Cinderella's Secret Witch Diaries Box Set: Lost, Stolen, Found

Chapter 6-1

Chapter 6

I opened my eyes and tried to steady myself from the bumps in the road. My hands were tied tight behind me and I tried to reposition myself in the wagon for more comfort, worrying about Bebe and the other girls. Our capture and being separated from our children had been difficult as Mrs. Radley and I did not know the fate of the men. We were tied to the wagon and had limited movement. Twice so far today, the scarred Indian had come to attend us. The wagon would stop, he offered us a pot and gave us little privacy, and then some food. My right arm had healed but still felt sore from the knife wound.

“Are you awake?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Radley coughed to clear her throat. “Yes, I am.”

She rolled over to me and I tried not to grimace but her right eye had swollen shut and the bruise had darkened all around her eye. “How do you feel?”

“We are still headed west.” She stared up at the canvas covering the wagon. “I wish I could move my hands more.”

“Last night I thought I heard one of your daughters singing.” I stretched and tried to shift myself into a more comfortable position. “I believe our children have not been harmed.”

“Yes, it was Mary singing. I pray that they are all all right.”

The wagon suddenly stopped and we quieted quickly. We had learned not to speak or cause trouble. I heard someone climb into the back of the wagon and the scarred Indian sat down next to us and waited. “Need I have to speak to you.” His accent was thick and voice gruff. “Your children and men are well and will remain so if you trouble us not.”

He pulled forth a small bowl and came toward me. I could smell herbs but could not place what kind. He dipped his fingers into the bowl and his fingers came out covered in a thick yellow paste. He drew a thick yellow line down my arm and the paste stung and yet I dared not flinch. “No magic.” He dipped his hands into the bowl again and continued to smear the paste all up and down my arm. “You will use no magic.”

I watched him and could feel the paste seep into my pores and I knew not what he had done to me, but I felt changed. “I understand. Can we see our children?”

He ignored me until he had finished coating my entire left arm and hand in the thick paste. “How you act is important.” He searched for the words as he spoke. He turned toward Mrs. Radley and pointed at her eye. “No use fighting is or you become hurt more. Both will see children if you agree. Yes?”

“We will do as you ask and will not fight.” Satisfied that my arm was covered thoroughly in the thick paste, he untied me and backed quickly away. After hours of being tied, my arms were numb and my legs weak. I needed some time to sit up. While I massaged my aching legs, he untied Mrs. Radley. She whimpered as he took the ropes off of her, trying her best to stay strong, but she nursed several bruises.

“Come.” He jumped out of the wagon and pulled down the stairs so that we could follow him.

I walked down the stairs slowly and with purpose, nearly falling from not using my legs much. The sky began to glow with the orange light of morning and I marveled at its beauty. He offered his arm to me, to steady me as I came down the stairs, and I accepted. Other Indians stood guard around the wagons. I could see four of them and noticed that two had rifles. The time to fight or run would not be now.

Mrs. Radley climbed down the stairs and I turned to help her but our jailor pushed me along and walked me toward the next wagon. “Quiet like the morning sun rising must you be.” He pushed her forward and up the stairs of the wagon behind.

Without arguing, I did as was told and inside I saw the children sleeping. Bebe had curled up next to the Radley’s youngest child, Ruth, and she protectively had her arm around her. I climbed inside the wagon and acted without thinking. I scooped Bebe into my arms and she woke up with a smile on her face.

“Mother!” She kept her voice low but she hugged me with great force.

The other children stirred and they saw their mother climbing into the wagon. All five of her children came to her and she kissed and hugged them all. They tried to remain quiet as best they could, but after several minutes there was crying and sobs of joy.

I held Bebe in my arms and ran my fingers through her blonde hair, trying my best to untangle her locks. “Were you harmed by them?”

“No, they did not touch us and we were fed well and given plenty to drink. Mary and I did our best to keep everyone calm.” She kissed me on the cheek and held me tight. “Do you think they will let us go now?”

“I doubt that.” I pulled up the sleeve of my dress and showed her my arm caked in the yellow paste that had now dried. “They know of my powers. I do not yet know what they want from us, but, please, do not challenge them. Listen to what they ask.”

“Yes, Mamma.” She looked out the wagon and quickly asked, “Have you seen Mr. Radley and Jeremiah?”

I shook my head and saw the scarred Indian, poking his face into the back of the wagon. “It is time to go now. Your children will not be harmed.”

Mrs. Radley sobbed but she kissed each of her children and was the first to leave. I followed her, kissing Bebe on the forehead and squeezing her tight before I left.

He waited for us outside as did many others of his kind. They had their weapons at the ready, unsure of my power. But the yellow paint on my arm numbed me and I could feel it blocking my magic. The scarred Indian stood before us. “I take you both now to see the men.” He pointed around him. “If you fly, then your children will be clipped.”

He did not wait for us to acknowledge him or agree, but walked on to the first wagon. Many Indians guarded the wagon and we stood by its back. Two Indians came out, dragging and pulling Jeremiah and Mr. Radley. Both appeared to be unharmed except for being tied up. No one else came out of the wagon and there was no sign of Henry. I feared he had not made the trip.

“I now take you to see the great Tenskwatawa. He will share words with you.” The scarred Indian walked away and Jeremiah and Mr. Radley followed, still having their arms tied behind their back.

Jeremiah caught my eye and he looked me over, checking to see if I were hurt. He favored his left leg and I noticed a small limp.

Mr. Radley remained quiet staring at his wife’s bruised eye. Yet he chose his words with care and mouthed, “The children?”

His wife smiled and nodded at him and that was enough to ease his concern.

We were led off the trail and into the woods. All around us the Indians made their presence known. Bruised and tired as we were, we had no hope of escape. Jeremiah and Mr. Radley were guided through the woods and Virginia and I followed them with the scarred Indian walking behind me. To remind me that he was there, he would jab me with the end of a stick from time to time. To my left and right, I saw other men in the forest. I had to follow.

When we arrived at the settlement, I looked at all the tepees and was amazed at the depth of culture around me. Women worked on their daily chores and children ran and played. Many stopped to look as we passed by but soon we were brought to a large tepee and there waited an Indian in his prime. He stood smoking and waved to have us brought closer to him and have the men’s hands untied. The scarred Indian spoke in his ear and we waited.

Putting down his pipe, the Indian said, “I am Tenskwatawa. I have searched long for you.”

He stood before me and touched the crusted clay on my arm.

“Mighty warrior, I am an emissary from the Queen of England and I have been charged to take this woman back to London.” Jeremiah tried to come closer to Tenskwatawa but he was held back.

“I know of you. You are like me. A witch hunter.” Confident that my arm was properly covered, Tenskwatawa came closer. “I hear your concerns, but first I must speak with the witch herself.”

I kept quiet, not sure what to say. I thought it best to remain silent.

“Witch, tell me your name.”

“My name is Cinderella.”

He laughed and asked, “Tell me your real name. The name of power that you were born with.”

“Sophia.” I quavered when I spoke and then found my strength and said it again. “My name is Sophia.”

“A good name. A name of wisdom.” He picked up his pipe, took a long, slow pull and then exhaled. The white smoke hung low around him and then drifted away. “My brother and I have searched for you and now you are found.”

“What would you have of me?” I shifted my weight to my right leg to help deal with the stiffness I felt in my tired and bruised body.

He pointed at Jeremiah and me and then spoke in his native language and several Indians followed his orders and took the Radleys away. They did not resist and the scarred Indian pushed us closer. Tenskwatawa held open the entry to his tepee and said, “We will talk and I will show you what I have need of.”

I glanced over at Jeremiah and he nodded. We knew that we had no choice but to obey.

***

Renée stood beside Jeremiah who knelt on the ground. He had his hands pressed in the dirt, tracing out the footprints. “You are right. They were taken here. From the tracks in this area, I can see a least a dozen natives who rushed and attacked them.”

He stood back up and surveyed the surrounding area. For many long minutes he was silent, searching and investigating.

Renée looked as well, but used her magic to find what she sought most. “Come here. I found her mark.”

Jeremiah ran over to her and stopped. Dried blood covered the surrounding plants and he could see how they had been crushed flat by a body being dragged away. Yet Renée had dropped to the ground and smoothed the area. “She fell here and someone helped her up.” She closed her eyes and put both of her palms on the ground. “She was not injured but she and her companions were captured.”

She brushed the dirt off her clothes and pointed west. “The wagon tracks lead in that direction.”

“Are you ready to go after them? These tracks are fresh. We might meet up with them before nightfall if we flew.”

Renée closed her eyes and listened. “We are not alone.” She called forth her magic and prepared a spell of defense.

Jeremiah drew forth a pistol and moved closer to her. He could hear rustling in the surrounding woods and thought it best to lower his gun, putting it away.

Silent and determined, three natives came forward out of the surrounding woods. The leader raised his hand and more natives hung in a semi-circle around them. At least six other men surrounded them. Renée looked at the leader and asked, “Do you wish us harm?”

“Harm will come to you only if you bring anger in your heart on our land.” He stood before Renée and bowed his head slightly. “Yet your anger is not like the hawk that flies high, searching for its prey. You search for the White Hand Witch.”

Jeremiah came closer and asked, “Do you know where she is?”

“The Shawnee have taken her and we have not the strength to follow.” He lowered his hand and the surrounding natives eased back into the forest like fog melting away in the morning sun. “We tried to help the White Hand Witch but the Shawnee attacked and the blood that was shed here caused us great sadness.”

“Do you know where the Shawnee have taken the witch?” Careful not to step on the dried blood on the ground, Jeremiah walked over to the wagon tracks and crouched down, touching the tracks and crumbled the dirt from the trail in his hands.

“They have taken her and those with her to the Shawnee lands.” He raised his fist and shook it at the sun. “We contest the land with our once brothers but have not the strength to take back what is ours.”

Renée watched Jeremiah clean the dirt off his hands. He stood looking west watching the sun hanging low in the sky. In a few hours, the sun would set and they would need to rest. Turning to the Indian, she asked, “If I asked you your name and for shelter, would you help us?”