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LOVE REBORNA
LOVE REBORN
I knew his day would come. The day my neighbors would turn against me and blame me for their misfortunes. I was tried, convicted and sentenced to hang. The year was 1692, and twas not a good time to be different in Salem, Massachusetts. My name was Morgan Richardson and I was called a Witch, and as one I would not be allowed to live, for as I was reminded consistently throughout my short imprisonment "Thou shall not suffer a witch to live."
Of course, the truth of the matter was that I did indeed practice the Craft of the Wise, as my mother did before me. Of course I tried to be discreet, and it was during one of my secret forays into the woods that I met the man I knew I was destined to be with. "Savage" some called his kind. Kind and loving was what he was. He watched as I cast my circle and began the ritual of the full moon. I sensed him there, and sought him out. He emerged from the cover of the trees and stopped just outside of my circle. His name was Red Eagle, he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. His dark hair hung to his shoulders and his brown eyes were the warmest I had seen since arriving in this small town with my father five years before, he wore a breechcloth and buckskin leggings and shirt. I closed my circle and approached him. We spoke for several hours, he told me he had learned the white man's tongue from a man who chose to live among his people, he said he had been watching me for a long time.
We met there every night, well every night until the night Mrs. Hawthorn accused me of casting a spell on her, causing her to lose her child. You must understand that Mr. Hawthorn did not really try to hide his amorous intentions towards me. Then again, according to him, I had cast a spell on him as well - a love spell. So the virtuous Mrs. Hawthorn's accusation stuck to me like molasses, it didn't matter that the reasoning behind the accusation was jealousy.
Three days later I found myself here being led to the gallows. Former friends and neighbors spat at me and called me names, God fearing they called themselves, but they were nothing but murderers to me. I was glad my father had died two years prior and didn't have to see the hangman tighten the noose around my neck. As the reverend prayed for my eternal soul, I prepared myself to feel the hatchway drop and with it my body. I was grateful I had been given a quick death, some of the others were not so lucky. Some were drowned and others burned at the stake. The good reverend finished his prayer and the crowd once again took up the now all too familiar chant of "Kill the Witch! Kill the Witch!" I prayed to the Goddess for help, and just before the hangman pulled the lever that would have ended my life, a war cry carried to my ear.
As the crowd ran for their lives, Red Eagle stealthily ran through the trees and up to the gallows, upon which he freed me. Together we ran into the woods towards the area where his tribe had made camp. I stood there in his protection for many months and was treated with respect, for I was a Shaman in their eyes. I studied under their Medicine Man and was considered one of their own. I should not have to tell you, I fell in love with Red Eagle and we were married a short while later.
Several months later, I felt it safe to travel into the wood. For now word had reached us that the barbaric punishments being given to innocent women and men in Salem had come to an end. I was out gathering berries to make our meal special that night for we were celebrating the fact that I was carrying Red Eagle's child, and herbs for medicines for the tribe. Humming to myself, I was unaware of another presence. I was grabbed from behind, gagged and blindfolded. I never knew who my attacker was. The next thing I knew I felt the weight of the noose around my neck. Then the tears started. For I now knew two things for certain, first that I'd never live to see my husband again in this lifetime and second that he'd never know the child I was carrying.
As the hatchway dropped, I took solace in the knowledge that I would be reborn again, as would he, and I could only pray that I would find my love again, for ours twas special. How could I know it would take 170 years before I would see my beloved again on the street in a town called Rock Creek. His name was not Red Eagle, as my name was no longer Morgan Richardson. For in those 170 years we were reborn to different parents in different circumstances. But just as I knew I could remember what my past life had been like, I also knew that the man walking out of the Marshal's office had no idea of what he was to me then. For all he knew he was and has always been Buck Cross. But to me he would always be my love… my savior… my husband.
Prologue ~ Chapter
1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3
~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter
6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8
~ Chapter 9
~ Chapter 10 ~ Chapter 11 ~
Chapter 12
