Читать книгу Frontier Bride - Ana Seymour - Страница 11

Peggy Webster carried the basket of fritters into the public room, the proud tilt of her head showing that she felt grown-up serving as hostess along with her grandmother and Hannah. Janie and Bridgett Trask were watching her closely. They all attended the same school over on Mulberry Lane, but the Trask sisters rarely played with the other children, and Peggy had never gotten to know them well. The two sisters sat demurely on a low bench alongside their mother, Nancy, none of them saying a word. No one except Peggy seemed to even notice that they were there. Hugh Trask, as usual, was noticed by everyone. He’d already had several pints of Ian MacDougall’s corn ale. Peggy wished the Trask family was not going west with them.

“The beans are ready, Peggy,” her grandmother called from the kitchen doorway. “Just give them a final stir and bring them on out to the table. Mind your hands on the pot.”

Peggy smiled shyly at Janie Trask, the older sister, and turned to go back to the kitchen. Her brother, Jacob, tugged at her skirts as she passed. “Where are the Crawfords?” he asked. “Benjie and I were gonna build a fort out back. Now it’s almost dark.”

“I don’t know where they are, Jacob. Probably busy with last-minute packing.”

“Do you want to build one?” he asked without much hope.

“I’m serving the supper, helping grandmother.”

“Can I, too?”

Peggy was usually patient with her eight-year-old brother, but tonight there was too much anticipation, too much uncertainty in the air for patience. “You’re too little, Jacob, and, besides, you’re a boy,” she said shortly, stepping over him to make her way to the kitchen.

Jacob looked around forlornly. His father was busy in conver-sation with Mr. Trask, Mr. Baker and Captain Reed. That’s where he should be, Jacob thought—with the men.

He jumped to his feet and walked over to the group who stood around the fireplace smoking long pipes that sent trails of blue smoke drifting up into the rough beams of the public room ceiling. The four men were laughing at something Captain Reed had said. Captain Reed was just about the most fascinating person Jacob had ever met. He’d been everywhere. And fought the Indians and the French and even a bear.

“Will there be bears?”

The four men looked downward at the sound of Jacob’s puny voice. His father picked him up and balanced him on one arm, which Jacob felt was not at all a dignified posture for a boy who was about to become a frontiersman. He squirmed until his father put him back on the floor.

“There are lots of bears, Jacob,” Reed answered, giving him a serious man-to-man look that made Jacob feel good. “We’ll have to be on the lookout, because it will be up to us men to be sure that none of those bears come near our womenfolk.”

The other three men smiled down at Jacob, but Reed stayed serious, and Jacob directed his answer to him. “I’ll be a good lookout, Captain. I’ll be looking out all the time.”

Reed nodded his approval, then motioned with his pipe. “I don’t suppose you smoke quite yet, Jacob?”

Jacob shook his head, his eyes fixed on the pipe. Ethan nodded once again. “Probably just as well. It’s not such a great habit anyway.”

In the kitchen Eliza Baker and Jeanne MacDougall were taking the turkey out of the big roasting oven built alongside the huge kitchen hearth. Hannah lifted the bean pot off its hook with her apron. “I’ll carry these,” she told Peggy, “and you bring out the crock of turnips. It’s not quite so heavy.”

“The Crawfords aren’t here yet,” Peggy informed the women.

“Well, the food’s ready, so we’re just going to have to eat,” Jeanne MacDougall said. “I’ve never known Amos Crawford to be on time for anything in his entire life.”

Jeanne had been snapping all night, Hannah thought sadly. She was fighting their departure up to the very last minute. Hannah couldn’t blame her for her resentment. It must be terrible to lose your only grandchildren this way. But in some ways it was hard for Hannah to identify with the forceful Scotswoman. Except for her mother, who had sometimes lived in a dreamworld where Hannah could not reach her, Hannah herself had never had a family to cling to. She had tried over these past few days to be tolerant of Mrs. MacDougall’s bad humor, which had worsened when Hannah had turned down the MacDougalls’ offer to buy out her indenture. Hannah suspected that Mrs. MacDougall had secretly hoped that when Hannah refused to go west, Randolph would abandon the idea.

She left the kitchen and started toward the tables, holding the solid iron bean pot awkwardly with both hands. Ethan Reed’s eyes went to her instantly, and he stopped m midsentence to cross the room to her. “I’ll take that, mistress. It’s too heavy for a slender young lady like yourself. And, besides, you’ll ruin that lovely pinafore.”

His hands brushed hers as he took the pot from her. “It’s just an old apron,” Hannah murmured in embarrassment, noting that every head in the room was turned to watch them.

Randolph set his pipe deliberately m its holder on the mantel, then walked over to Hannah. “I didn’t realize that you needed help, Hannah. Just let me know what you would like me to do.”

“Goodness, Mr. Webster. We’ve more than enough hands in the kitchen as it is. Everything’s ready as soon as we bring out—”

The door opened and the tardy Crawford family came trooping in. Amos held one of the twins in his arms. Hannah didn’t know if it was Hope or Patience. It was impossible to tell them apart. Benjamin and Thomas followed him, their expressions glum, and Martha came last, holding the other girl. Jacob ran immediately over to Benjamin and thumped him on the back. “We’re going to be lookouts for the bears,” he blurted to his friend.

“Evening, Amos, Mrs. Crawford,” Randolph said with a nod. “Come on in. We’re just ready to eat.”

None of the Crawfords returned Randolph’s welcoming smile. Amos’s eyes darted nervously around the room. “I reckon there’s something I need to tell you all first,” he said.

“What’s the matter?” Randolph asked, immediately alert. He and Amos had been schoolboy friends together and knew each other like brothers.

“There’s no easy way to say it.” Amos set his daughter down, then straightened up slowly. “We’re not going to be able to go along with you.”

There was a moment of silence, then Hugh Trask said loudly, “You’d better be joking, Crawford. There’s no way you can pull out of this now.”

Amos kept his eyes on Randolph, who looked as if he shared Trask’s sentiment. “What’s the problem, Amos?” he asked quietly.

Martha Crawford had let down the other twin, and the two little girls went running over to Peggy, who was their particular favorite. “Mama was crying,” one of them said before Peggy motioned them to be silent.

“We just can’t do it,” Amos said, his own voice breaking. “I was fooling myself to think we could handle this. The girls are no more than babes, and the boys aren’t old enough yet to be of much help. Martha says she’s tired all the time as it is.”

Seth Baker was still leaning against the mantel with his pipe. “You signed on like the rest of us, Amos. We agreed to pay the captain, here, among the four families.”

“We’ll pay if we have to,” Martha Crawford said, coming forward to support her husband. “But we’ll not be going. I’m not taking my babies out to be slaughtered by wild Indians.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying,” Jeanne MacDougall hollered from the kitchen.

“Well, why didn’t you say that months ago when we started making all the plans?” Trask asked Martha, his face florid.

She took her husband’s arm. “We didn’t think it through. I’ll admit it. And if we have to pay the price, then so be it. But we’re not going west.”

Amos looked helplessly at Randolph, who tried to reason with her. “The Indian problem is mostly over now, Martha. The killing was back when the French were out there urging the Indians to kill the English, sometimes paying them to kill.”

“Well, the French are gone. Nobody’s paying them now,” she retorted. “But they say that Pontiac’s Ottawa warriors seized a British fort just last month.”

Ethan had been listening to the exchange in silence, but now he stepped forward. “The British wouldn’t be allowing settlers to stake out land if they didn’t think it was safe, Mrs. Crawford. Though I grant you, there’s always a risk. Pontiac’s the strongest leader the Indians have had in some time. And he’s unpredictable.”

“They can’t back out now, can they, Reed?” Hugh Trask asked him.

“I don’t see how you’re going to force someone to enter into an expedition like this one,” Ethan answered calmly. “You need to have people who are able and willing.“

Trask looked around the room. “My wife’s got a kid in the oven, but you don’t hear us bellyaching about how tough it’s going to be.”

Everyone except Hannah looked over at Nancy Trask in surprise. “You’re with child, Mrs. Trask?” Randolph asked.

Nancy turned beet red and looked down at the floor.

“Is this wise, Trask?” Randolph asked. “Are you sure you want to take your wife away from civilization at a time like this, away from all medical care?”

Trask shrugged. “I reckon the tyke’ll be born just as well there as here.”

Randolph shook his head and turned back to the Crawfords. “All the more reason we need you folks. Isn’t there anything we can say to change your minds?”

Hannah felt a pang of sympathy for Amos Crawford, who looked as though his life’s dream had just been ripped away from him. But she had had her misgivings about the Crawfords from the beginning, and the haggard circles under Martha Crawford’s eyes attested to a hard-fought decision made over many sleepless nights. She hoped Randolph would not press his friend too hard.

“We’ve decided,” Amos said firmly. “I’m sorry to leave you one family short on such little notice, but I’m afraid our decision is final.”

Ethan looked around at the solemn faces. “Do you want to postpone the trip until we recruit another family?” he asked. “It might mean waiting until next spring.”

Randolph was already shaking his head. “No. We’re all set to go. The Bakers and the Trasks have already sold their places. We’ll just have to make do with the ones who are left.”

“I’m sorry,” Amos said again. Martha gripped his arm more tightly, and he patted her hand. The two boys looked down at their shoes, and Tommy wiped his hand across his nose.

Ethan broke the silence. “If it’s all decided,” he said, giving Hannah a quick wink, “then I say it’s time to eat.”

It was more wrenching than any of them had anticipated to leave the rambling white clapboard house at the end of Stratford Lane with all its memories of Priscilla and happier times. Peggy had clung to her grandmother with heartbreaking sobs. Jacob, whose dreams of conquering the West with his friend Benjie by his side had been abruptly crushed, had been sullen and untalkative. Randolph had spent a few last minutes in the bedroom he had shared with his wife and had emerged with red eyes.

They’d ridden all day mostly in silence—a motley-looking train of horses and mules and one jackass that Randolph had purchased, claiming that he had heard of the animal’s reputation as a strong pack animal. It pulled a small two-wheeled cart that they had decided to bring along against Ethan Reed’s recommendations. Hannah thought the beast looked mean and did her best to stay out of its way.

Their midday rest had been brief, so Ethan had allowed them to stop and make camp early in deference to those who were not used to an entire day on the trail, which was all of them.

Hannah stood looking out at the small river they’d been following and pulled her cloak more securely around her. It was a wool cloak that had belonged to Priscilla. She’d been reluctant to take it, but Randolph had told her that if they were to be pioneers, they couldn’t indulge in foolish sentiment. The cloak was practical and warm and would serve her well on the trail.

The sun had already set on the other side of the river, and the night promised to be chilly. Randolph had explained that it was necessary to leave as soon as possible so that they would have plenty of time to build secure cabins before the next winter, but Hannah was wishing that they’d been able to wait at least until May.

She supposed if she got busy, she’d warm up. There was firewood to gather and food to prepare and tents to pitch. But for just a moment more she wanted to stand and watch the rushing waters—waters that were rushing west. To a wide open land where perhaps no white woman had ever trod. It raised bumps on her skin just to think about it.

“Hannah, are you all right? You’re not too weary from the ride?” Randolph came up beside her. His voice sounded tired.

She turned to smile at him. She was starting to get used to this new, more solicitous side of her employer. “I’ll admit that I’m a bit sore…er…where one might expect after all day on a mule, but other than that I’m fine. It’s all of you I’m worried about.”

Randolph rubbed two fingers along the bridge of his nose. “It’s been a wearying day, I vow. The bairns have held up bravely, but it’s hard…”

“I know,” Hannah said softly, putting her hand on his sleeve. “‘Tis hard to leave behind the memories. I had the same problem leaving England. But soon the children will be involved in their new life—and so will you.”

“And we’ll be so blamed busy we won’t have time for self-pity,” he said with a sad half smile. “It’s too bad about the Crawfords. Jacob was counting on being with Benjamin.”

“Aye. We didn’t need another disappointment.”

Their gazes went over to the camp fire. Ethan was showing Jacob how to tie up a turkey by the neck and hang it over the open fire. “Now take this piece of bark, Jacob,” he told the boy. who seemed to hang on his every word. “Try to catch the juices as they drip off and then pour them back over the bird.”

“What’s that for?” Jacob watched intently as the big man who knelt beside him demonstrated his basting technique.

“It makes the turkey tender and juicy. Your sister and Mistress Hannah are going to be downright pea green with envy when they taste what a bird you’ve cooked.”

Jacob grinned and took the curved piece of bark from Ethan.

Hannah turned back to her employer. “At least it looks like he’s happy for the moment.”

Randolph was watching his son and their guide with a frown. “He’ll burn his hand off if he doesn’t have a care.”

Hannah was surprised at his hostile tone. “Captain Reed appears to be watching him closely enough.”

“It’s not Captain Reed’s job to be watching my son,” he snapped.

Hannah’s jaw dropped. After all his kind remarks to her, she couldn’t believe that Randolph meant his comment as a reprimand from employer to servant. Yet it was her responsibility to be watching his children.

“Would you like me to tell him to move away from the fire?” she asked, her voice tightening.

Randolph looked down at her in surprise. “No! That is…I didn’t mean to imply that you aren’t doing your duty, Hannah. What a preposterous idea. I’ve told you before—the children and I would be lost without you.”

“I thought you sounded irritated, sir.”

Randolph looked over again at Jacob and the captain. “I’m just tired, Hannah. I’m sorry. It’s been a difficult day.”

“I’m sure we’ll all feel better as soon as we leave the goodbyes behind us and get farther down the trail.”

Randolph smiled at her. “Just talking to you makes me feel better, Hannah.”

By the third day out, Hannah started to wonder if her prediction would ever come true. Instead of leaving behind the memories, it seemed as if they were becoming stronger. Much of the talk around the camp fire that evening had been about warm home fires and soft beds and Jeanne MacDougall’s apple pies. Hannah had assured the children that they would be picking up such supplies as flour and lard at Fort Pitt before they started down the Ohio. She promised them that when they had their own homestead they would make pies of their own. She didn’t know about apples. How long did it take to grow an apple tree, she wondered?

The truth was that, with the possible exception of Ethan Reed and young Jacob, all of them were in varying degrees of physical misery.

Peggy and the two Trask girls giggled over their oddly placed pains in secret, and Hannah could see that a slow bond was beginning to form among them in the way that it does with young girls. The friend-ship was good for Peggy, who had been isolated for too long, but it left Jacob more alone than ever.

Seth and Eliza, by far the oldest members of the group, had ridden along without complaint, quietly protective of each other and unfailingly cheerful with everyone.

Nancy Trask had also made no protest at the long hours on the trail. The previous afternoon Hugh had loudly proclaimed to the entire party that his “arse” was as raw as a skinned chicken and he wasn’t going another mile. Ethan had calmly invited him to follow at whatever pace he liked and then had continued on up the trail with the rest of the group following docilely behind.

As for Randolph, Hannah wasn’t quite sure what to think about her employer’s condition. He had not complained, certainly, but neither had he been the buoyant adventurer who she had watched plan this journey. His enthusiasm for the trip seemed to have disappeared, and when he spoke to her at all, it was with a diffidence that she had never before noticed in him.

She didn’t know exactly when it was that she had begun to suspect that Randolph’s uncharacteristic churlishness toward Ethan came from a kind of jealousy of the frontiersman’s attention to Hannah her-self. It was hard to believe, because it implied that Randolph held some sort of regard for Hannah beyond that of an employer, which he had never before given her reason to suppose. And, of course, any thought of jealousy was absurd, because Hannah was sure that Ethan Reed’s compliments to her and smiles and winks meant nothing. He treated gray-haired Eliza Baker with the same mockingly flirtatious manner.

“A penny for your thoughts, mistress.”

Hannah jumped as Ethan’s voice came out of the darkness. Most of the group had retired for the night. Hannah had tried to go to sleep earlier in the little tent she shared with Peggy and Jacob, but had been unable to find a comfortable position for her jolted bones. Finally she had given up and come out to sit by the fire. She turned as Ethan approached carrying two logs, each one as big around as her waist.

“These will burn through the night,” he said, putting them on the fire. He dusted off his hands, then dropped down beside her. “Now, tell me. What has put that furrow into your lovely brow?” His hand neared her face but didn’t touch her.

Hannah tried to pull her thoughts away from her speculation about Randolph and Ethan. She hoped mind reading was not among the captain’s many talents. “I didn’t know anyone was awake,” she said, avoiding his question.

“So why are you still up?”

Hannah shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. Too sore, I think. I’ve never ridden before, at least not like this.”

“You’ve been a brave girl about it. All of you have done well, really. Before long you’ll all have calluses in the places you need them the most.”

“I never thought I’d find that idea attractive,” Hannah said with a little chuckle, “but I can’t wait.”

Ethan laughed. “I’ve a bottle of whiskey that could ease some of those aches, but I’m afraid if I bring it out there’ll be no handling Trask.”

“You seem to handle him well enough.”

“I’ve dealt with his type before along the trail. I can’t imagine how a woman as sweet as Nancy Trask ended up with a lout like him.”

Hannah felt a sudden unfamiliar twist. She’d just been thinking about jealousy, but that surely could not be what she was experiencing at this moment. Nancy Trask had a kind of fragile beauty that she imagined was appealing to men. Her glossy black hair and creamy white skin made her stand out among people whose coloring was not so extreme.

“Mrs. Trask is lovely, isn’t she?” she commented, looking back at the fire.

Ethan turned his head toward her sharply. “She’s fair enough. I just hope she’s a lot stronger than she looks, and that her babe holds off until we reach our destination.”

Hannah gave an exclamation of dismay. “Oh, but it must! She’d not have the baby out here on the trail.”

“Babies have a way of coming into the world on their own schedule.”

The very idea of Nancy Trask giving birth in the middle of the wilderness drove all thoughts of jealousy out of Hannah’s head. “What would we do?”

“How many babies have you helped birth?” he asked her.

Hannah’s eyes grew round. “None. I suppose Eliza may know more about it.”

“Well, we menfolk aren’t likely to be of much help, so it will be up to you two.”

For the first time it really hit Hannah what it meant to be leaving civilization. In London she and her mother had often had to forgo necessities for lack of money, but at least she had known that help was available if it came to an emergency. And in Philadelphia, caring for Priscilla, she had lacked for nothing, except the divine power to overcome an incurable disease. “We’ll just have to make do,” she said, trying to sound confident. “I’ll talk things over with Eliza tomorrow.”

“Good. As I’ve said before, Mistress Hannah. I like your attitude. It will serve you well in the West.”

Unlike the frivolous compliments the captain was wont to disperse, this one seemed sincere. “Thank you,” she said, her voice grown hushed.

He had leaned close to her. “I find that I like lots of things about you, Mistress Hannah.”

The fire grew brighter as the bark burned off the giant logs. She hoped the sudden blaze was the reason why her cheeks had grown so warm. But the height of the fire would not explain her cold hands. Hannah rubbed them together. “Now you are bantering with me again, Captain, and as I have explained before, it’s not seemly.”

An expression of annoyance flickered briefly in his eyes, then passed. He leaned even closer to her, until she could see the reflections of the flames in the dark centers of his eyes. “Do you like sweets, mistress?” he asked very softly.

“I beg your pardon?” Hannah was finding it hard to breathe normally with his face just inches from hers.

Abruptly he sat back and pulled a paper packet from inside his buckskin coat. “Horehound drops,” he said. He pulled something out of the paper and reached over to her. His fingers pushed the candy into her mouth, then lingered ever so briefly on her warm lips.

The slick, minty candy felt good against her tongue. After a moment of surprise, she smiled.

“The Creeks say that if you fall asleep with something sweet on your lips, you’ll have sweet dreams the whole night through,” Ethan said, popping one of the drops into his own mouth.

“I thought we were only supposed to bring essentials along on this trip, Captain Reed,” Hannah said with mock disapproval.

“Horehound’s an essential as far as I’m concerned. It’s the main reason I head back east every now and then. There’s not much else in so-called civilization that interests me.”

“You have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But surely there are some other things you miss from the city?” she asked, talking around the piece of candy still in her mouth.

As she waited for his answer, a log cracked, sending sparks up into the velvety blackness of the sky. Her gaze followed them upward, then scanned the clearing Ethan had chosen for their campsite. The woods seemed to enclose them in their own little world, smelling of smoke and moist, spring-scented earth.

“No, I can’t say that I miss much,” he was saying, his eyes on the fire. “Sometimes I miss reading. Books are hard to come by out West, and newspapers are already history by the time we get them.”

“Don’t you have family, friends that you miss?”

Ethan’s head came up. “I have friends at Fort Pitt. They’re all I need.”

His tone had grown colder, as if closing off discussion about anything personal. Hannah sat uncertainly for a moment, then said. “I should try to sleep now.”

Ethan stood with her and offered the paper of candy. “Would you like another one?”

Hannah took one of the drops. “Thank you. So now we’re guaranteed to have sweet dreams tonight. Is that the idea?”

Ethan’s dark eyes held hers. “I already have mine planned.”