Usual disclaimers. pfft!
Made my Christmas cake today... and it turned out nicely! {pats self on back}
EDIT: Slight change (three words amended) to cover a glitch spotted by Gale Storm... geez 122,000 words and I get picked on for losing track for two seconds! Mulberry - you're fired as my proof reader! ;)
***
After what seemed an age they reached the Chickasaw village. The warriors raced through the village at a gallop, whooping delightedly at their return. Catherine held her horse on a tight rein, preventing him from following, entering at a more sedate pace.
As she reined to a halt, Jack gratefully slid off, wincing. "Next time I walk!" he declared.
She laughed, handing her reins to Little Feather. "Thank you," she smiled. "Now Jack, I know you don't mean that..."
For the first time, in the light of the fires, Jack got a proper look at his wife. Her face was dirty, smudged with mud and coal dust - her dress was little better, one sleeve torn off and a dark-coloured bandage covered her tattoo. He knew he looked just as bad, but did not care. He wrapped his arms around her, making her dress even dirtier. "I've missed you, luv!" He shut his eyes, for a moment just holding her, before tilting her face and kissing her deeply. His finger traced the outline of her cheek. "I knew you'd come!"
"You don't get rid of me that easily Jack Sparrow," she teased, before kissing him back as eagerly as he had kissed her. "What's a couple of thousand miles of sea and hostile French territory to a Sparrow!"
"A true Sparrow," he whispered, just standing there, hugging her, oblivious to the starring Indians until Little Feather coughed.
"Crazy Bird, Little Fox, come! My mother has prepared a quiet corner in the cabin for you..." Smiling he let the suggestion linger. "The tribe will party well into the night - you will not be disturbed."
The grin on Jack's face spread from ear to ear. "Lead on then," he smiled. Taking Catherine's hand in his, he followed Little Feather to a cabin that was set a short distance from the others.
"Little Fox?" Catherine frowned when they were alone.
"Kinda suits yer luv," he smiled as he pulled her down onto a pile of furs, for a moment unsure if her hands or his moved the fastest. In the dim light he saw a new scar, a knife scar low on her side. "Wha..."
"Later!" she murmured, kissing him urgently, arching towards him. "Please..."
He smiled at her, needing no second bidding.
***
Jack sighed contentedly as Catherine plaited the last bead into his hair. It felt blissful to be clean, even is his clothes were still damp. Unfortunately Catherine's pretty gold dress was ruined beyond any hope of repair especially since it was missing a sleeve. Little Feather handed her a blue pioneer-style dress made from cotton such as the Chickasaw women wore. Jack winced, sensing the explosion before it happened.
"No!" She threw the dress back at him. "I am not wearing a dress! Don't you have any spare trousers - a shirt.. anything but a dress?"
"But all the women dress like this?" Little Feather frowned not understanding her objections.
"Maybe, but I cannot fight in that!" She looked at Jack. "Please Jack - tell him!"
"I'd give in t' her mate... it's easier in the long run, trust me!" He sighed. "Look, I made a promise an' I'll not break it - I'll never break it. So if you cannot find her something then she'll have t' have my clothes. I don't mind runnin' around naked, but it might scare the women..." He peeled off his shirt, handing it to Catherine, before reaching for his trousers.
"No!" Little Feather gasped fearing that Jack would actually do what he said. "I will see my mother... I'm sure she can find something..." He returned a few minutes later. "She has some things for you Little Fox... but make sure you keep the dress in case it is needed!" He nodded towards the cabin. When Catherine had gone inside he turned quietly to Jack. "You wouldn't have... would you?"
"Never been more serious mate! I'll never break m' word to Kitty!" He shrugged. "If she wants t' fight, then she fights. If she decides t' sit out a fight then that is okay too! She's big enough t' make her own..." He stopped mid sentence, staring slack jawed as Catherine walked towards him. Although barefoot, she wore tan leather trousers and an unbleached cotton shirt. "Own... own... own... what was I sayin'?" He leered, looking her up and down. "Much better m' dear!"
***
Oran and Running Elk rode quietly into the camp. He was surprised to see Catherine sitting by one of the fires staring at him in shock. "Oran! Oran!" She scrambled to her feet, running towards him.
Clambering down he rushed across to her. "Kitty!" He grabbed her, holding her tightly and kissing her on the lips. "How did..."
A sarcastic voice floated through the darkness. "I trust that was purely platonic Booth... I'd hate t' have t' kill yer!"
Oran looked around wildly into the darkness. "Jack?"
Jack stepped out of the darkness, where he had been sitting nursing a jug of the potent native brew. "You're still holdin' my wife..."
Oran released Catherine guiltily. "Sorry Captain... force of habit..."
Jack raised one sarcastic eyebrow. "I suggest it's a habit you break..."
"Aye Captain! Sorry Captain!"
Jack started to chuckle at his helmsman's discomfort. Catherine had told him the full story, including how she had got the new scar. He knew he owed Oran more than he would ever admit, but he was damned if that gratitude extended to allowing him to kiss her.
"Damn, it's good to see you!" Oran slapped Jack warmly on the back.
"No kisses mate!" Jack warned as he thrust the jug into Oran's hands. "Me or Kitty, savvy?"
"Aye Captain!"
Catherine pushed between them. "But what... how.. who... dammit tell me!"
Oran took a mouthful of drink, gasping at the strength. "Philipe shot me in the back - guess somebody didn't want me in the way." He glanced at Jack, taking a longer swig. "Damn this stuff is good!" he coughed.
Catherine nodded. "It was Besoe - but don't' worry, he's dead."
"Wha..."
"I shot him... consider it a favour like!" she winked. "And..." she prompted. "Go on!"
"And, um, I fell down a steep bank and landed at Running Elk's feet - quite literally she tells me." He looked at her in amazement. "You shot him?"
"Oran?" Jack and Catherine looked up at the women that had ridden in with him. Her long black hair fell in a plait to her waist, dark eyes watching their reunion.
"Running Elk, this is Catherine who I thought was back at Lact's house and Jack who I thought was down the mine..."
"I was down th' mine mate, although the mine was empty when we left it!" He grinned.
"You must forgive me - I must seek out my father and warn Lofty Eagle about the Kickapoo with the French. Perhaps he will know what they were looking for..."
Jack looked worriedly at Catherine. "I think I know what the French are looking for," he sighed. "We'd better come with you."
Oran turned to Catherine as they walked to Lofty Eagle's cabin. "You shot him? Why did you shoot him? Not that I'm complaining - it couldn't have happened to a nicer man..."
She smiled. "He saw my tattoo when I fell off a horse..."
"Ahh..." Oran smiled.
The four of them climbed the steps and knocked quietly on the door. Little Feather answered. "We need to see Lofty Eagle," Running Elk frowned. "There is a problem..."
Little Feather ushered them in and went to find his father. Soon all were seated quietly on the floor, the glow of a small fire casting flickering shadows about the room.
"Are you sure he was Kickapoo?"
"Yes," Running Elk replied. "He was too ugly to be anything else."
Little Feather frowned. "The French still search for Little Fox... they will pick up our tracks from the mine!"
"We will prepare a warm welcome for them," Lofty Eagle smiled darkly. "But we must lead them away from the village." He looked closely at Catherine. "How well can you scream?"
She smiled coquettishly. "Well enough!"
Made my Christmas cake today... and it turned out nicely! {pats self on back}
EDIT: Slight change (three words amended) to cover a glitch spotted by Gale Storm... geez 122,000 words and I get picked on for losing track for two seconds! Mulberry - you're fired as my proof reader! ;)
***
After what seemed an age they reached the Chickasaw village. The warriors raced through the village at a gallop, whooping delightedly at their return. Catherine held her horse on a tight rein, preventing him from following, entering at a more sedate pace.
As she reined to a halt, Jack gratefully slid off, wincing. "Next time I walk!" he declared.
She laughed, handing her reins to Little Feather. "Thank you," she smiled. "Now Jack, I know you don't mean that..."
For the first time, in the light of the fires, Jack got a proper look at his wife. Her face was dirty, smudged with mud and coal dust - her dress was little better, one sleeve torn off and a dark-coloured bandage covered her tattoo. He knew he looked just as bad, but did not care. He wrapped his arms around her, making her dress even dirtier. "I've missed you, luv!" He shut his eyes, for a moment just holding her, before tilting her face and kissing her deeply. His finger traced the outline of her cheek. "I knew you'd come!"
"You don't get rid of me that easily Jack Sparrow," she teased, before kissing him back as eagerly as he had kissed her. "What's a couple of thousand miles of sea and hostile French territory to a Sparrow!"
"A true Sparrow," he whispered, just standing there, hugging her, oblivious to the starring Indians until Little Feather coughed.
"Crazy Bird, Little Fox, come! My mother has prepared a quiet corner in the cabin for you..." Smiling he let the suggestion linger. "The tribe will party well into the night - you will not be disturbed."
The grin on Jack's face spread from ear to ear. "Lead on then," he smiled. Taking Catherine's hand in his, he followed Little Feather to a cabin that was set a short distance from the others.
"Little Fox?" Catherine frowned when they were alone.
"Kinda suits yer luv," he smiled as he pulled her down onto a pile of furs, for a moment unsure if her hands or his moved the fastest. In the dim light he saw a new scar, a knife scar low on her side. "Wha..."
"Later!" she murmured, kissing him urgently, arching towards him. "Please..."
He smiled at her, needing no second bidding.
***
Jack sighed contentedly as Catherine plaited the last bead into his hair. It felt blissful to be clean, even is his clothes were still damp. Unfortunately Catherine's pretty gold dress was ruined beyond any hope of repair especially since it was missing a sleeve. Little Feather handed her a blue pioneer-style dress made from cotton such as the Chickasaw women wore. Jack winced, sensing the explosion before it happened.
"No!" She threw the dress back at him. "I am not wearing a dress! Don't you have any spare trousers - a shirt.. anything but a dress?"
"But all the women dress like this?" Little Feather frowned not understanding her objections.
"Maybe, but I cannot fight in that!" She looked at Jack. "Please Jack - tell him!"
"I'd give in t' her mate... it's easier in the long run, trust me!" He sighed. "Look, I made a promise an' I'll not break it - I'll never break it. So if you cannot find her something then she'll have t' have my clothes. I don't mind runnin' around naked, but it might scare the women..." He peeled off his shirt, handing it to Catherine, before reaching for his trousers.
"No!" Little Feather gasped fearing that Jack would actually do what he said. "I will see my mother... I'm sure she can find something..." He returned a few minutes later. "She has some things for you Little Fox... but make sure you keep the dress in case it is needed!" He nodded towards the cabin. When Catherine had gone inside he turned quietly to Jack. "You wouldn't have... would you?"
"Never been more serious mate! I'll never break m' word to Kitty!" He shrugged. "If she wants t' fight, then she fights. If she decides t' sit out a fight then that is okay too! She's big enough t' make her own..." He stopped mid sentence, staring slack jawed as Catherine walked towards him. Although barefoot, she wore tan leather trousers and an unbleached cotton shirt. "Own... own... own... what was I sayin'?" He leered, looking her up and down. "Much better m' dear!"
***
Oran and Running Elk rode quietly into the camp. He was surprised to see Catherine sitting by one of the fires staring at him in shock. "Oran! Oran!" She scrambled to her feet, running towards him.
Clambering down he rushed across to her. "Kitty!" He grabbed her, holding her tightly and kissing her on the lips. "How did..."
A sarcastic voice floated through the darkness. "I trust that was purely platonic Booth... I'd hate t' have t' kill yer!"
Oran looked around wildly into the darkness. "Jack?"
Jack stepped out of the darkness, where he had been sitting nursing a jug of the potent native brew. "You're still holdin' my wife..."
Oran released Catherine guiltily. "Sorry Captain... force of habit..."
Jack raised one sarcastic eyebrow. "I suggest it's a habit you break..."
"Aye Captain! Sorry Captain!"
Jack started to chuckle at his helmsman's discomfort. Catherine had told him the full story, including how she had got the new scar. He knew he owed Oran more than he would ever admit, but he was damned if that gratitude extended to allowing him to kiss her.
"Damn, it's good to see you!" Oran slapped Jack warmly on the back.
"No kisses mate!" Jack warned as he thrust the jug into Oran's hands. "Me or Kitty, savvy?"
"Aye Captain!"
Catherine pushed between them. "But what... how.. who... dammit tell me!"
Oran took a mouthful of drink, gasping at the strength. "Philipe shot me in the back - guess somebody didn't want me in the way." He glanced at Jack, taking a longer swig. "Damn this stuff is good!" he coughed.
Catherine nodded. "It was Besoe - but don't' worry, he's dead."
"Wha..."
"I shot him... consider it a favour like!" she winked. "And..." she prompted. "Go on!"
"And, um, I fell down a steep bank and landed at Running Elk's feet - quite literally she tells me." He looked at her in amazement. "You shot him?"
"Oran?" Jack and Catherine looked up at the women that had ridden in with him. Her long black hair fell in a plait to her waist, dark eyes watching their reunion.
"Running Elk, this is Catherine who I thought was back at Lact's house and Jack who I thought was down the mine..."
"I was down th' mine mate, although the mine was empty when we left it!" He grinned.
"You must forgive me - I must seek out my father and warn Lofty Eagle about the Kickapoo with the French. Perhaps he will know what they were looking for..."
Jack looked worriedly at Catherine. "I think I know what the French are looking for," he sighed. "We'd better come with you."
Oran turned to Catherine as they walked to Lofty Eagle's cabin. "You shot him? Why did you shoot him? Not that I'm complaining - it couldn't have happened to a nicer man..."
She smiled. "He saw my tattoo when I fell off a horse..."
"Ahh..." Oran smiled.
The four of them climbed the steps and knocked quietly on the door. Little Feather answered. "We need to see Lofty Eagle," Running Elk frowned. "There is a problem..."
Little Feather ushered them in and went to find his father. Soon all were seated quietly on the floor, the glow of a small fire casting flickering shadows about the room.
"Are you sure he was Kickapoo?"
"Yes," Running Elk replied. "He was too ugly to be anything else."
Little Feather frowned. "The French still search for Little Fox... they will pick up our tracks from the mine!"
"We will prepare a warm welcome for them," Lofty Eagle smiled darkly. "But we must lead them away from the village." He looked closely at Catherine. "How well can you scream?"
She smiled coquettishly. "Well enough!"