“See,” she stretched her hand out to make her point. He nodded, not able to speak. It was the first time he’d been lost for words around a woman. Obadiah walked to where she stood, stooped down, and ran a hand up the rope, tugging to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere. Solid. The tent didn’t budge. Not many women in his tribe could get it this tight.
“Good job.”
Esther offered a big smile to him and he couldn’t help but to smile back. He made a note not to underestimate her again. For the second time today, he wondered where she had become so tough, knowing how to do things that most women didn’t. He hoped soon she’d tell him more about her past.
The sun started to lower in the sky. He needed to finish their prep work and not be distracted by his wife. The other men already had a fire going.
Turning he picked up sticks, some small and some bigger. As bad as the storm that came through two days ago was it helped him to be able to get the limbs needed. Crunching came from his right and he didn’t need to turn to know she’d come over to him. They worked side by side gathering firewood. He reached for a stick as she did. Her hand covered his, brushing against him.
Sparks simmered on the surface. He heard the sharp breath she took, pulling away from him. She turned her head toward him, her big eyes looking at him. Esther bit her bottom lip and he watched. What would her lips taste like? Where had that question come from?
“I-I’m sorry.” She muttered low, slowly taking a breath. He watched as she tried to hide her suddenly dry throat. The way she lowered her gaze, then looked at him through her lashes had him wanting to kiss her senseless.
“Don’t be.” He touched her chin, rubbing his thumb over the silky skin.
Esther blinked at him a few times before she pulled away. He wanted to draw her back to him but decided not to push her. Her presence was everywhere. Her scent lingered with the smell of lilacs mixed with jasmine. He needed to breathe air without her scent in it or he might lose his mind. Obadiah stood, walked over to where he’d build the fire and began putting kindling down in a pile before setting the larger sticks down.
She placed hers stack next to his and watched as he took a wooden tool from his bag. It was a small block that he’d spent days carving out. Three holes were dug out from it so a stick could be placed for creating friction. His Pa taught him how to make this tool, just as his Ma’s Pa had shown him. It was alot easier than rubbing sticks together. The way his Pa had wanted to learn more about the tribe and to live among them warmed his heart. He still lived there today.
Obadiah picked up a stick, placed it in the hole, and rubbed it back and forth. Smoke began to come out. His wife said nothing but stood watching him for what felt like hours.
“How did you learn that?”
“What?” He didn’t look up as he gathered the black ashes, placing them on top of the block.
“To make that?” Esther pointed to the block. She handed him the grass mixed with corn stalks. He nodded as he took them.
“My Pa.” He put the hot ashes into the grass mixture, careful not to smother the smoke. Folding the one side over the other, he blew into it. He waved the grass mixture back and forth in the air. Her gaze followed his motions. Her brows rose high into her hairline. He continued waving, stopping for a second to blow and then waving it again. Flames came through finally. Patience was needed to do this. It couldn’t be rushed, and once it was going well and hot, it would stay lit all night. Most white men didn’t understand. Placing the starter on the ground, he placed sticks on top. They slowly grew into light and heat enough for them to cook with.
The other men looked his way, wanting to know his secret. You don’t know everything. Soon. Satisfaction flowed through Obadiah like the river behind them.
“Must be mighty nice to have a Pa around.” The longing in her voice had him wanting to take her in his arms, holding her close to let her know she wasn’t alone now even if they didn’t know one another. The sadness in her eyes tore at his chest.
“I don’t know anything else. Where was yours?” He didn’t mean to pry but he had to know. To know her past and why she wanted to prove herself so much.
Esther stirred the stew in the cast iron pot hanging over the fire. She’d looked through what he’d brought and came up with this for their meal. It smelled good and she wasn’t sure what it would taste like. Obadiah didn’t care how hungry he was. He was more curious about her answer to his question. As she looked over the fire at him, she spoke with more sadness and heartache in her words than he had ever heard.
“He raped my Ma. Never knew either of them.”
Obadiah cursed. Not what he expected her to share. Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. He saw her fighting hard not to let them fall. This tough woman had a softness to her and he didn’t know how often she showed this side. The thought took him back. Part of him wanted to treasure her and the other wanted to push her away.
“Sorry.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
