Wanting something of more value than spirits, Alicia remembered the carving Travis had been working on before he left. She sent one of the men after it and presented it to Bear Mountain along with the pale green shawl.
“For Homasinee and for the child. May he grow up to be as free and independent as the eagle that soars overhead.”
The wide span of the eagle’s wings gleamed golden in the sunlight and Bear Mountain stroked them approvingly, gazing up to where the matching pair sat guarding the gates to this house. He accepted the offering with solemnity.
“Your son and mine will be brothers. The ill wind that comes will not touch them. They will grow together as the hawk and the lion and stand against their enemies.” Then incongruously meshing the Christian religion of his Moravian teachers with the beliefs of his ancestry, he added, “Blessings be to God.”
That night, staring at the canopy of her bed, Alicia contemplated his words and wished desperately for Travis’s insight. Damn the man to a hell of no return, but she missed him. If he did not return soon, his son would in all likelihood grow up as wild as the weeds in the field. His son! Listen to her. Even she began to think like these impossible men around her. She had no doubt she carried a son. Travis’s firstborn would be no other. And she had no doubt he would grow up as Bear Mountain predicted, hand in hand with his Indian cousin, at one with the beasts and river. She would have no control over him, as she had no control over Travis.
That thought brought tears to her eyes. What had Bear Mountain meant by an ill wind? She had heard murmurings of Indian uprisings ever since she had come here, but other than stories of what had happened elsewhere, she had experienced none of it. Perhaps he referred to the unusual weather. Maybe winter would come early this year. Could Indians predict that?
Damn, but why wasn’t Travis here to explain these things?
As his child kicked below her heart, tears streamed down Alicia’s cheeks, and she prayed desperately, that he was somewhere safe and well.
With the heaviness of gold weighting his pocket and a mug of cold beer slaking his thirst, Travis stretched his long legs out in the Mexican bar and admired the scenery. The lovely senorita with the castanets made no secret of her admiration, and Travis returned her regard, lifting his mug in acknowledgment. Hell, he had money in his pocket, time on his hands, and the rest of his life to live. This Mexican beauty would be as good a place as any to start. He could while away the night in her arms without difficulty. And maybe the next night and the next. Scornful blue eyes faded in a haze of alcohol, so he could almost imagine replacing them with ebony fires.
Travis’s body relaxed in anticipation of the relief to come as the dancer swayed into his lap. Her lips were warm and willing, her body, lithe and strong. Travis’s hand curled around her small breast and he tried to imagine it as full as Alicia’s. His mouth traveled over thick lips and longed for the taste of Alicia’s finely chiseled ones. The stench of perspiration, however, could in no stretch of the imagination replace gardenias.
With a groan Travis tucked a coin in the dancer’s décolletage and departed. It was going to be another long night. He might as well spend it in the saddle.
The advent of the Indians marked the end of a lifeless summer. Hearing of the visit, Chester Stanford arrived several days later, demanding his daughter return to St. Louis with him. Alicia’s refusal resulted in a prolonged and noisy argument from which there was no Letitia to rescue them. Chester left in a fury and Alicia spent the next several days working off her anger in the kitchen, preserving the foods needed to carry them through the winter.
Rumors that Tecumseh had succeeded in gathering a large force of Indians to the south were verified by the keelboat crews returning upriver and stopping at the farm to exchange news and goods. Other crews having made the detour from the Ohio upriver to St. Louis brought news of bloody massacres to the north, instigated by the bounties offered by the British in their few occupied forts near the Canadian border. Civilization as they knew it seemed on the brink of upheaval, and nature played its role in confirming their fears.
Alicia overheard Millie and Becky whispering one day and demanded to know the topic. Millie looked uneasy, but Becky lifted her chin defiantly.
“Them Indians ain’t no fools. They been sayin’ that Prophet told them all nature gonna rise up in protest—the earth’s gonna open up and swallow us all, and fire goin’ to rain from the sky if they don’t drive us back into the sea. And you seen what’s already happened. We ain’t had no summer to speak of, the crops ain’t growin’, and now look at them fool squirrels runnin’ to drown themselves in the river. Appears mighty strange to me.
The behavior of squirrels flocking in droves to meet their deaths had been unsettling, but this was a foreign land to Alicia. The first time she had heard an owl hoot had sent her flying into Travis’s arms. The cry of the occasional bobcat sent shivers down her spine still. Nature might be frightening, but despite her words earlier that summer, she was no believer in portents or omens.
“Tecumseh’s brother made those predictions just to scare silly fools like you. When you start blaming that child on the moon, I’ll have Auguste teach you the facts of life.”
Laughing, Alicia left the two women whispering and headed toward the stables. She could no longer ride, but she loved to admire the new foals. Travis had been excited by the little filly, and now that it had better control of its long legs, Alicia could see its promise. The child within her stirred in approval, too, and she smiled for the first time in weeks.
If Alicia had been a believer in portents, the one that next frosty September night should have left her shaken. As it was, Becky’s screams alerted her as usual.
Pulling on her velvet robe, Alicia ran to the window expecting to see the farm surrounded or the barn in flames. The screams died away, but the whole sky seemed lit in a mysterious haze. Mystified, Alicia searched for the source of the illumination. A fog rose off the river, covering the lower-lying land, carrying with it moonbeams when there was no moon.
Men ran out of the bunkhouse, staring up into the sky. And then it was there, crossing the sky in a streak of flame, throwing the foggy landscape into shadow and light. Alicia gasped at the beauty of it, then shivered in fear as Becky’s scream rang out again.
The comet ignited a cloud, disappearing behind the thunderheads, but the men continued gaping in wonder at the sky. One of them glanced up to Alicia’s window and seeing her, loped toward the house. She hurried downstairs to meet him.
“What was that? Why is Becky screaming still?” Holding her side as she leaned against the door frame, Alicia cursed her unwieldy size. Never would she ever dance again.
“Don’t know what it was, ma’am, but Millie says the baby’s coming. I’ll send one of the boys over in the morning to light the fires for you. Reckon the womenfolk will be busy.”
The man’s down-to-earth practicality took some of the magic from the night. Alicia gestured for him to wait. “Let me find you some linens and blankets. I’ll dress and follow you shortly.”
Millie’s husband did as instructed and soon Alicia was following him across the yard to Auguste’s cabin. The men did not seem eager to return to their beds. They stood about discussing the odd sight in the sky and ribbing Auguste, who paced the lawn, accepting swigs of whatever was handed him.
He seemed relieved to see Alicia, and she spoke a few reassuring words before hurrying to Becky’s side. She was as nervous as Auguste, but she strived not to show it. She had never assisted in the birth of a child. The prospect terrified her, but she could not desert Becky at a time like this. Her own was due in less than three months. It would be best to gain what knowledge she could.
The babe was born before dawn, a tiny, squalling girl that had the towering keelboat man wrapped around her finger at first sight. Exhausted by the night’s emotions, Alicia nearly cried as she watched the proud father lift his child into his arms. Would Travis ever look at his child like that? Would he ever
learn he had even fathered a child?
Wiping away the tears, Alicia dragged herself from the cabin back to the lonely house. It was a good thing she didn’t believe in portents because her mood was such that the night’s happenings would be translated into evil tidings. She could imagine herself alone forever, living in this empty house with only the carvings on the bed to remind her of a time when she had been fool enough to believe in love.
October brought a killing cold from the north, and Alicia worked from dawn to dusk to store and preserve the last of the summer’s harvest. With more than a dozen people dependent upon her for food and housing, the prospect of a long, cold winter loomed frighteningly. She could not retreat to the comforts of St. Louis now. Someone had to oversee their livelihood.
Becky was worse than useless now, confined to her bed for weeks and burdened by the demands of the child. Millie had two sons who were in perennial scrapes, and she bore all the signs of growing big with a third.
As Millie complained of nausea and ran for the privy, Alicia slammed her dough against the board and practiced her ever growing vocabulary of curses. Surrounded by men as they were, it seemed inevitable that every woman in sight would be continually pregnant. There ought to be laws.
Her own back ached from the heavy weight she carried. She carried her burden low, confirming everyone’s opinion that it would be a boy. Whenever Dr. Farrar repeated this homily, Alicia threw it back at him in rage.
“That’s just what the world needs! Another male to go to war, to subject the innocent to his violence, to create more babies and leave them to raise themselves. If I’ve suffered through all this for a miniature Travis, I’ll put him in a boat and float him downriver to find his father.”
The young doctor caught her shoulder before she could leave. “If you do not get more rest, you will lose the child and not need to worry about its sex. Follow your father’s advice, Alicia. Come back to town and let his house full of servants wait on you until the babe is born. Winter is coming. There is nothing more you can do out here. You deserve some pampering. If Travis were here, he would insist on it, I am certain.”
He spoke as if Travis were dead, and Alicia shook her head furiously. “Then let Travis come and tell me himself. He’s not dead, Benjamin. I’d know it if he were dead. He’s alive and I will be here when he returns. I will go nowhere until he does.”
She knew the physician believed her half mad, but she would lose her mind entirely if she thought Travis gone forever. Everyone thought he had to be dead, but Alicia knew him better. He had left just as he said he would, escaping to a new life, leaving her to lead her own, just as he had promised. He just didn’t know that she had changed her mind. Maybe she couldn’t live with him, but she knew she could not live without him. He had to come home just so she could tell him so.
Chapter 36
Azure eyes burned in welcome as soft arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tight as he bent to taste pliant lips. Travis’s need stole away reason, and he grasped her harder, finding her bodice and stripping it away, pushing her beneath him so he could feel all of her supple softness. His loins ached for the sweet release she offered, and he groped for the hem of her billowing skirt.
A noise jerked him awake, and Travis grabbed for his gun before he realized the sound was only his horse whickering. Cursing the horse, cursing the dream that left him overheated and unsatiated, he stared into the starlit heavens, trying to will his unruly body to peace.
The enormous comet shooting overhead fascinated him. If he followed its trail, would he see Alicia gazing up in wonder? What was she doing now? Consoling herself with another lover?
Somehow Travis doubted that. He had taught her the pleasures of her body, but he had also taught her the pain. He did not think she would rush to put herself in another man’s power too soon, not his sensible Alicia. He took comfort in that thought, selfishly ignoring the loneliness it condemned her to.
What would she be doing now? Setting Natchez or New Orleans on their ears? Would she return to Philadelphia? Or had she just returned to her father’s house and the safety of teaching wealthy little girls?
The desire to know ate at Travis almost as much as his desire to have her in his bed again. He had promised to get out of her life if he did not make her happy, leave her to a life of her own, but it was the hardest promise he had ever had to keep in his life. She was his, a part of him, and he could not bear the thought of another man touching her.
If he could just know she was safe and happy . . . Travis’s thoughts drifted back to those times when they had been together before their marriage, the laughter in sapphire eyes, the eager willingness of Alicia’s body when he took her m his arms. That was the way she was meant to be, not cold and hard as he had left her. He had been so certain he had won that night of Auguste’s wedding. What had happened to change her mind?
That seemed two eternities ago, but it had only been June. They had three good months together before that bastard had arrived from Philadelphia, three months in which the world had been his and he had been fool enough to believe in happiness. He could still remember the shock on Alicia’s face when she walked in that tavern that day—the shock, and something else. He had always been able to read her eyes, but he had never been able to interpret that brief expression when he rose with blood on his hands to meet her gaze that day. It was as if something that had been brilliant and new had suddenly died.
He played and replayed that scene in his mind. By all rights, she should never have been near that tavern. Alicia never did anything so publicly improper in her life. Why had he been cursed with the ill luck of losing his temper at the same time Alicia chose to step out of character? It had to have been something mighty important to bring her there all decked out in her bright spring colors and looking as if she had just been given the world on a string . . .
The sudden realization of her purpose hit Travis with a physical pain equivalent to a blow to the stomach. Could he have been such a fool as not to have seen it? Rapidly he tried to make mental calculations, but his mind would not function. It was possible. He knew it was possible. He just could not believe he had been so blind.
Why else would Alicia have shed all sign of mourning and traveled uptown to the tavern that day? What else would have brought such an expression of joy to her face, such excitement that she could not wait for him to come to her but she must seek him out? He knew of only one thing that Alicia wanted so badly that she had actually consented to breaking all the rules to get. A child.
Travis was on his feet in an instant, scuffing out the fire, buckling up the saddle. No matter that he might have dreamed this up out of simple desire to return. He had to know. He had to see Alicia one more time. It was excuse enough to retrace his steps over the thousand miles between here and there.
Alicia slid on the patch of ice at the water pump, caught herself on the bare branch of a nearby dogwood, and slumped wearily against its smooth bark. It was time she gave up her wishful thinking and returned to the real world. Travis wasn’t coming, and she couldn’t continue any longer as she was. The babe was due in less than a month. All her energy had drained away, and she could not even face the thought of teaching her few remaining students any longer.
Millie’s boys had developed a fever a week ago, and she had taken them into town, where Dr. Farrar could watch over them. With the baby to take care of, Becky had lost interest in her studies. Without either of the women there, the men felt too uncomfortable to hang around. She would have to give up the school until spring.
Which gave her no further excuse to linger. Lifting the heavy pail of water, Alicia once again attempted the icy path back to the house. Her back ached from bending over the stove all morning, trying to put together a decent meal for the men to warm their stomachs after the morning’s work. Not that there was much to be done this time of year, but they needed to be fed. Becky had promised to help, but Alicia hadn’t seen a sign of her since breakfast.
; It was just as she approached the porch that the shriek rang out. So sudden and unexpected did the sound echo across the valley that Alicia dropped the pail to swing around in horror.
Men ran from the barn, but there was naught to be seen. The heavy frost of earlier had melted with the noonday sun, and the landscape shimmered serene in the icy air. Treacherous patches of ice lingered in the shadows, remnants of yesterday’s storm, but the sun lit all else in stark relief. The shriek did not repeat itself, but a low wail soon gave direction.
Alicia hurried after the men in the direction of the cry. Becky. It had to be Becky. Nobody else could harness the squawk of chalk on slate and couple it with the wail of a banshee to produce cries that could be heard from here to St. Louis. Whatever the occasion, it meant trouble, and Alicia’s heart pounded as she rounded the corner of the cabin to the chicken yard.
Becky lay sprawled in a crumpled heap of woolen skirts and pails of feed in the frozen mud. Her wails reduced to whimpers as the men reached her, but she screamed in agony as one attempted to help her up. Even from this distance Alicia could see the awkward angle of Becky’s arm, and she shouted for the men to wait.
Some people were accident prone, but Becky lent new meaning to the words, Alicia muttered to herself as she waddled to where the circle of men waited for her. Auguste had taken Millie and her sick boys in the keelboat to St. Louis, so she could not rely on his strength and sensibility this time. Becky would be inconsolable without him.
Crooning soft words to the sobbing girl, Alicia knelt on the ground and examined the bent arm. There was no doubt that it was broken, probably in the same place as last time. Trying to keep calm, she ordered one of the men to part with his large handkerchief and struggled to support Becky’s arm with it.
Lord Rogue Page 30
