“You look like a hag. Big ugly circles under your eyes. Hell, what are you doin’, sleeping on one side of your head all the time? Looks like one side’s swollen.”
She backed away from the bed, shocked by his mean temper. “I think the fever fried your brains a bit.”
“No, I just don’t want you killin’ yourself to take care of me. You don’t owe me that. There’s no bond that strong between us.”
“Oh, I see. After all that you’ve done for me, I’m not supposed to return the favor.”
“Have I ever asked you to hang over me like I was your dearly beloved?”
After a startled second, hurt and anger welled up inside her. “No.”
“Then don’t.”
“Fine. I’ll ask Amarintha to feed you dinner, and I’ll go back to the hotel for a while.”
She heard him sputtering as she went out the door.
Katherine waited until nearly dark before she left the hotel and hurried back to the Parnells’ house. She encountered a flushed, disheveled Amarintha at the entrance.
“What did you do to him?” Amarintha demanded angrily. “He tried to kiss me! When I bent over to wipe chicken broth off his cheek he grabbed my hair and pulled my mouth nearly to his! If I hadn’t knocked the bowl of broth onto his—his person, he would have had me!”
She whirled without waiting for an answer and fled to the judge’s library at the back of the house. The judge, thankfully, was out drinking for the evening. Katherine marched upstairs, frowning while anxiety settled heavily in her chest.
Justis sat upright in bed, his face flushed with exertion as he wearily tried to wipe broth off his chest with the corner of a quilt. When he saw her he attempted to look nonchalant. “Didn’t expect you back so soon.”
She grabbed a small towel and wet it at the washstand. Her mouth grim, she went to him, pushed his fumbling hands away, and began to wipe up the broth. Under the thick reddish-brown hair his skin was ruddy from being burned.
“I guess Amarintha told you what happened.”
“She said you tried to kiss her.” Katherine went back to the washstand, rinsed the cloth carefully, and returned to him. She continued her cleaning without another word.
“You don’t care?” he muttered.
“I care that you’re being a first-rate jackass for some reason I don’t understand.”
“I’m just a lot less needy than you think. I don’t have to have one woman in particular.”
“Well, grand. Now you’ve got no woman, no dinner, and a scalded chest.” She threw the towel on the night-stand and began checking the covers. “And you’ve got broth all over your sheets. Well, I’d meant to change them anyway. If you’re strong enough to pester Amarintha, you’re strong enough to get out of bed for a few minutes.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
She whipped the covers back and haughtily surveyed his nakedness. “Phew. U-ne-gi-li-di. Ugly. I’ll get a quilt to hide the sight of all that hairy skin.”
The language that came from his mouth was more scalding than hot broth ever could be. Trembling with weak rage, he shoved his feet off the bed. When she came back with the blanket he snatched it out of her hands and drew it around his waist. He was panting for breath.
“Go ahead, make yourself sick again,” she said bitterly.
“You cold-hearted hellion!”
He braced his feet and used one hand to give himself a violent push upward. He stood, swayed dizzily, and immediately careened backward against the tall bedstead. As he slid to the floor, Katherine cried out in dismay and caught him by the shoulders. His teeth began to chatter.
“Oh, Justis, damn you for making me be a jackass too.” She dragged a quilt from the bed and put it over his shoulders. He gave her a disgruntled look, but she knelt and slipped her arms around him anyway. “Be still. Rest a minute,” she whispered hoarsely. Defeated by his illness, he muttered an oath, then laid his head on her shoulder.
They didn’t speak anymore. She got up finally and changed the bed, then helped him back into it. When he was warmly covered she sat down beside him and wiped a last bit of drying broth from his chest. All the while she was aware of him watching her with hooded, unhappy eyes.
“I’ll bring you some more dinner,” she told him.
“That silliness with Amarintha. Didn’t mean nothing.”
She looked at him firmly. “What are you trying to prove to me? Why are you angry?”
“I’m tired of gibbering with you over what’s best to do. I’ve got no more sweet talk, Katherine. Let’s get down to brass tacks.”
“This is very serious,” she said pensively. “You called me Katherine.”
He nodded. “You’ve got something I want—culture and education—plus some basic attractions that I reckon I don’t have to describe in detail. I’ve got something you want—Blue Song gold—plus some basic attractions that you’re pretty familiar with after the past couple of days.”
“All right. We’ve discussed this before.”
“No. We’ve talked about marriage. I don’t want to marry you anymore. I offered in the first place only ’cause it’s what your folks would have liked. It’s pretty clear that you aren’t ever gonna want to marry me, or love me, so I don’t feel guilty for takin’ the offer back. White and Indian together brings too much grief. Are we agreed on that point?”
“Yes.” She looked away, dying in slow degrees while she managed a neutral expression by biting her tongue until it bled. “And so?”
“So you go to New York with me. You teach me what I need to know about fancy manners, help me impress the business nabobs up there, and you’ll walk away in a year or two a rich woman. Owned by nobody but yourself.”
“You’re asking me to be your mistress?”
“That’s right.”
“And what if we have a child from this arrangement?”
“We won’t, if I can help it. I don’t like the idea of raisin’ a half-breed any more than you probably do.” He looked at her grimly. “There’s a way of being careful. All I have to do is keep myself under control until—”
“I understand.” She managed a semblance of a smile. “I’m a doctor, you know.”
“Then you’re agreed?”
“What if I say no?”
A deadly stillness settled in his eyes. “Then you’ll never get your share of gold. You’ll always be my charity case—and I’ll get you into my bed sooner or later, to boot.”
“I suppose I accept, then.”
She laughed. She bent over and touched her head to the covers and laughed until it became a soft wail. She began to choke, and tears slid down her face. He made a sound of distress and moved over enough to pull her onto the bed alongside him. His arm over her, he held her as tightly as his returning strength would allow. As she quieted, he kissed the top of her head, and his words were muffled in her hair.
“I was raised havin’ to fight for everything I wanted. To fight dirty, to steal, to hurt other people without thinkin’ about it too much. I know some of that’s still in me. I don’t care if you don’t love me—I’m gonna have you anyway. This deal isn’t what you want, but I swear to God that I wouldn’t force you into it if I didn’t think it’d serve you best in the long run.”
She wiped her face. “I owe you so much. You’ve been kind in so many ways. I suppose you really do think this is kind too.”
“You’ll be happy.” He exhaled in relief. “I’m glad you don’t hate me.”
They lay there quietly and she felt his chest move slower against her back. His breath cascaded onto her neck, warm and regular. He was exhausted, and she suspected he’d sleep soundly for hours now that the fever was gone.
She got up and very carefully slipped the leather necklace and its gold nugget from around his neck. She put the necklace around her own neck and hid it under her shirt. Then she kissed him gently on the mouth, taking care her tears didn’t fall on his face.
“You’re a scoundrel, but I lov
e you dearly,” she whispered. “Good-bye.”
AMARINTHA KEPT GAZING about furtively, and Katherine knew she was afraid the judge would ride up at any minute. From the front porch of the Parnell house, she and Amarintha watched the doors of the square’s brightly lit taverns and gambling halls.
“Oh, botheration,” Amarintha said nervously. “Let’s go ahead and get it over with.”
They left the porch and walked a short distance from the house, to where the road narrowed and the forest began to close in on civilization. They turned off the road, their shoes crunching on dried leaves.
Katherine halted after a dozen paces. “I’ll be hidden well enough here. Tell Captain Taylor to stop his buggy near the big walnut tree with the bent trunk.” She set her valise and doctor’s satchel down, then pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. “I’ll be waiting.”
Amarintha gasped when an owl screeched nearby. “I’ll tell him.” She peered at Katherine in the darkness. “You’d better be pleasant to him. This is a great favor he’s doing.”
Katherine laughed bitterly. “Dear girl, I’m doing him the favor. Since I’m leaving town, Justis will never find out that the captain struck me. I’m sure Captain Taylor is happy to escape the worst beating of his life.”
Amarintha had known Taylor would be in town playing poker. She’d sent for him, and when he’d learned what she wanted, he had definitely looked pleased. No, he didn’t want anyone telling Justis Gallatin about the scene at the stockade.
Katherine studied the nervous woman beside her. “I appreciate your help.”
“ ’Tis my pleasure.”
“I’m sure. I knew that no one else would be so eager to get me out of town.”
“You’re very right.”
Desperation made strange companions, indeed, Katherine mused. Amarintha had gone to the hotel and stuffed a valise with some of Katherine’s clothes and personal items, plus a small pouch of gold coins. She’d explained to Sam and Rebecca that Katherine would be staying at the Parnells’ for several days, while Justis recuperated.
“Remember what we discussed,” Katherine warned. “In the morning you’re to tell everyone that I was in Justis’s room reading a book when you went to bed. You don’t know where I disappeared to after that.”
“Don’t lecture me, you arrogant savage! Of course I’ll remember!”
Katherine fought for patience. Through the trees she glimpsed a lamp burning in a window of the Parnell house. She was torn apart by the knowledge that Justis lay sleeping in that house and that she would never see him again.
She spoke to Amarintha as pleasantly as she could. “I just want you to realize that Mr. Gallatin will track me down if he has any idea where I’ve gone. Not because he cares for me but simply because he considers me his property and his responsibility. If you let slip where I’ve gone, and he finds me, it won’t do a bit of good for your romantic designs, will it?”
“You regard your charms too highly. I’m sure he’ll be relieved to be free of you.”
“Don’t risk it.”
Amarintha thought for a moment, then said peevishly, “Well, go farther, then. Don’t stop in Tennessee.”
“I have to find what few relatives I have left. They’ll probably be at one of the stockades there. Don’t fear, Amarintha, I’m not coming back. I’ll head west with the rest of my people.”
Suddenly Amarintha’s curiosity exploded. “I don’t understand why! Why are you giving up? If it’s a trick, I’ll—”
“It’s no trick,” Katherine retorted. “And my reasons are none of your business. You want me to go, and I’m going. Let that be enough for you.”
“Be sure you never come back!” Amarintha whirled toward the road. When she reached the edge of the woods she turned and stood braced as if for battle. “I’m going to marry Justis Gallatin! You needn’t doubt it! I’ll be his wife and no one will ever cause me misery again!” Then she fled toward home as if the forest had been listening.
Katherine slumped to her knees, trembling inside her cloak. Justis would marry someone, but it wouldn’t be strange little Amarintha Parnell, who could barely stomach a man’s touch.
She looked again toward the light of the Parnell house, and her hands clenched in hopeless sorrow. Her family was gone, her home was gone. Though the land remained—and she believed it once more would be hers someday—that was no consolation now. All she could take with her were memories of an outrageous and unique man who’d captured part of her soul.
No-wu, ge-ga, one said politely, when it was time to leave. Now I am going.
Hwi-lo-hi, the host should answer just as politely. Go, then.
She gazed at the lamplight desperately. When it faded away, she was surrounded by darkness.
AH, KATIE WAS moving about the room. Justis could hear her. His eyes still shut, he took a deep breath of warm morning air full of sunshine, and it made him feel good. Today he’d get more of his strength back. Today he’d try to soften the blunt words he’d spoken last night.
He and Katie would be grand together—her infernal pride just wouldn’t let her admit it. Eventually she’d cuddle up to the idea of marriage and half-breed babes and everything else. Maybe she’d even love him someday. He just had to coax her. By force, it seemed.
“Com’ere,” he ordered, and lolled one arm out of bed. He curled his forefinger in a beckoning gesture. “See? I’m keepin’ my eyes shut because I trust you won’t take your scalpel to me after what I said last night. You want to, I know.”
She had stopped moving. The ornery cat was standing across the room, he figured, trying to test his patience, as usual. “Dammit, you she-fiend, if you don’t come over here I’ll come get you. Do you want to see me bounce my nekkid ass on the floor again?”
Katie Blue Song would never have uttered the frantic gasp that answered his threat. Justis frowned and opened his eyes quickly. Amarintha tottered toward him, her eyes wide with distrust, her hands pressed to her mouth.
“Where’s Katie?” he asked.
She stopped a safe distance from the bed and began to cry. “It’s the most dreadful thing,” she said in a choked whisper. “She’s run away. Back to Philadelphia.”
CHAPTER 10
AUTUMN was magnificent in the misty blue Tennessee mountains, the Tsacona-ge, Place of the Blue Smoke. Katherine remembered them from her childhood, when her father had brought the family to great council meetings. The summer’s drought hadn’t weakened the mountain forests enough to dim their brilliant fall displays of red and gold, and the first autumn rains had swept the dust from them.
Now they looked like beautiful patchwork quilts draped over the mountains’ rounded summits. Above them the sky was a crisp, clean blue dotted with puffy white clouds. Gazing up at them from the valley of the Hiwassee River, Katherine shivered with emotion. Their serene grandeur was a tragic contrast to the chaos around her.
The road was lined with wagons and ox carts as far as Katherine could see in both directions, and this was only one contingent of marchers—one of thirteen that had been organized within the tribe, each numbering about a thousand people. The rough lean-tos and huts of the now-empty prison camp had been set on fire. Embers and flames rose high in the air, eyed nervously by livestock that threatened to bolt at any moment.
Katherine wanted to cover her ears against the noise. Dogs barked; naked children ran squealing among the horses, then dodged their hooves; people shouted at one another, and a few swung fists. Those who had bartered their food rations for cheap whiskey were the worst offenders. One man stumbled drunkenly through a crowd, bellowing orders at a child he pulled behind him by the child’s long braid.
People yelled at the small company of cavalry soldiers who would accompany them on the march. The soldiers, who understood little Cherokee, answered with rough shoves and vigorous oaths. The tribe had finally been allowed to take over supervision of the march, so the road was also clogged with mounted Cherokee police. Their long hair streamed from und
er their turbans as they galloped back and forth, trying to bring order so that the trek could begin.
The first contingent had left for the west at the beginning of the month. Several more had gone since, each following a few days after the last. People were gloomy but stoic. Most were just glad that the torturous days of imprisonment were over. Rumor had it that hundreds of Cherokees had died in the camps during the summer.
Today, for a few hours at least, people were too busy to think about death. They milled around the wagons, trying to decide who should ride and who must walk, since the army had been able to provide only one wagon for every twenty people. Katherine looked down at her dirty brogans. She’d bartered an ivory hair comb for them a month before, when her shoes wore out. She hoped the brogans would survive a thousand-mile walk.
Gone was the pretty calico dress she’d worn the night she left Gold Ridge; gone was the other dress Amarintha had packed in her valise; gone were her delicate white stockings and ruffled petticoats and drawers made of batiste. She’d kept two things—her doctor’s satchel and the gold nugget she never took from around her neck. Everything else she’d traded for necessities—cooking utensils, blankets, and a skirt and tunic of coarse butternut-colored material that could withstand any hardship.
She smiled thinly. The tunic was cinched at her waist with a wide woven belt, a present from someone she’d doctored. Tucked in the belt was her most prized possession—a deadly sharp hunting knife. More than one enemy had backed away from its wicked steel blade.
In her first weeks at the huge Tennessee encampment she’d been alone among thousands of strangers, but, like before, word had soon spread about her doctoring skills. In September the Gold Ridge stockade had been emptied and its prisoners brought to Tennessee to await the big march with everyone else. The Gold Ridge Cherokees had greeted Katherine with great warmth, and soon she was known as Beloved Woman to others besides them.
Fame had its advantages. No one dared harm the Beloved Woman. Even the shamans, her professional competition, gave her respect. These days she rarely needed the knife for protection. But an honorary title hadn’t won her a lighter backpack, she thought wryly, shifting the heavy bundle tied to her shoulders. She was often tired and hungry, but at least her sense of humor remained.
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