by Becky Lower
"I miss him already, as much as I miss Daddy."
Susannah reached out and touched Hannah's braided hair. "You must recall the good times you had with him, then. What's your favorite memory?"
"When I first spotted him in the woods by the pasture. He had gotten some milk from Bossy and drank it before I got up there. Right away, I could tell someone had been there, since the pail still had some milk in it. I searched the woods closest to the lean-to and there he was, as still as a statue, staring at me."
"Were you frightened?"
"No. Not once. Well, maybe just a little, at first. But each day, when he'd come back to the pasture and stare at me, I figured he wasn't about to hurt me. All he wanted was another taste of the milk."
Susannah moved to the stove, to get breakfast started. "Well, you have a wonderful memory of him, then. Keep him in your prayers at night, as you do with your father, and hope we'll someday see him again."
Hannah wiped her tears and took the milk to the root cellar. Susannah's own tears last night had stained her heart and she couldn't wipe them away as easily. With a small sigh, she fried up some bacon and then cracked eggs into the grease. Maybe Raoul had only moved back to the cave where he'd begun his journey. Put a little distance between them, for both their sakes. As the idea began to take hold, Susannah made plans. She would head over there this afternoon, when Missouria went down for her nap. She'd leave Hannah in charge and hike through the woods for one final time with him. One session of lovemaking with the man she’d admired for months. One time to put into her memory, to pull out on those cold nights yet to come. She'd leave her children to fend for themselves for the afternoon, put on her snowshoes and hike miles through the icy forest in the hopes he hadn't ventured far. She could still taste him on her tongue, and his scent invaded her dreams, driving her wild with desire. Reckless or not, she needed more. She needed Raoul.
In the late afternoon, Susannah finally got to the cave. Cold and tired, she stared at the opening, high up on an icy ledge. There was no sign of Ziigwan, no sign of Raoul. He had truly gone. Susannah cried out her disappointment and longing into the middle of the woods, pounding her gloved fists against a tree, bending over and holding onto her roiling stomach. Both men she'd allowed to enter her life had left her. Both had told her she was strong enough to carry her load without a man.
Maybe it was time she listened to them. Maybe she didn't need any man to be fulfilled. She had a house full of children to raise, children who were currently fending for themselves and possibly putting themselves in danger while she was off on a fool’s mission. If neither man wished to help shepherd her children to adulthood, then, by God, she'd do it herself. Instead of leaving them alone so she could share a sweet forbidden lovemaking session with a forbidden man, she needed to be with her children. With a final glance at the cave and a hard shake of her head, she turned to make her way back home before the woods became dark. Her spine was straight, her head high, yet tears glistened her eyelashes. She may be alone, but she was far from helpless. If she kept telling herself that, she might get to the point where she actually bought the idea.
♥•♥•♥
Raoul had left his new cave the next day, and began his long trek back to his family home in St. Louis. The sooner he removed himself from the temptation that was Susannah, the better. He did not push Ziigwan, but they made good time, nonetheless. Every day on the road put more miles between him and the disaster that could have happened, had he given in to weakness.
Slightly more than two weeks later, he pulled Ziigwan to a stop in front of the expansive ranch his father had carved out of the wilderness many years ago. Of course, it had not started off as a large compound but had morphed over the years, as his father's business of rounding up wild horses and selling them grew more successful. Raoul's eyes roamed over the familiar buildings, the white fence around the pens, the horses. He was home at last. His breathing came easier, and his aching heart pulsated. Perhaps this is where he belonged after all.
A man on horseback came riding up to where Raoul had stopped. Joseph, his older brother, had come out to greet him. He could tell who it was by a simple observation of the man on the horse. Tall, dark hair flowing in the wind, man and beast moving as one. It could be no other. Raoul's lips curved up in a smile for the first time since he had left the Ohio mountaintop.
Joseph's large hand reached out and clamped Raoul's shoulder.
"It is good to see you again, my brother. I had pretty much given up hope that you would come back. I have missed you. You must tell us about your travels."
"Will you feed me first? I am powerfully hungry."
Joseph's laugh boomed out into the crisp January air. "As always. Of course, we will feed you. Come along. Ginger will be so happy to see you. And I have some children for you to meet."
Raoul fought against the rip of white-hot jealousy that coursed through his body. Joseph had what Raoul wished for. A white woman for a wife, several children with that woman to love and nurture. They rode together back to Joseph’s home, and Raoul's torment grew. He could never have what Joseph had, and seeing his brother so happy and surrounded by loved ones might be more than he could abide on a daily basis. He would move in with his parents, in the big main house instead. For now, it would have to do. He would corral his cravings, put a brave face on things, and carry on. Until destiny once again told him where to go and what his mission in life should be.
Over dinner, Raoul met his nephews, six-year old Samuel and the baby Emil, both of whom resembled Joseph, and his niece Elizabeth, who had just turned four and was fortunate to have inherited her mother’s beauty. Samuel hung on him as if he were a burr in the forest, reminding him of little George. He had to blink hard more than once during the meal to keep his feelings at bay. Visions of Susannah and her children filled his head as the conversation buzzed around him.
"So, Raoul, are you ever going to tell us where you've been, or are you going to remain the stoic Indian?" Ginger glanced at him as she passed the meat platter. "You do pull off stoic Indian well, don’t get me wrong. But we’re all dying to find out where you’ve traveled since you left Canada. Etienne visited your grandfather this past summer, and all he could say was that you had gone in search of your destiny."
Raoul's stomach rumbled from hunger as he stared at the food on his plate. Even though the sumptuous feast would appease his appetite, he had an urge to rise from the table and walk out on his brother and sister-in-law. His family, he reminded himself. Still, they had no right to discover where his travels had taken him. To tell them where he had been would be to open an already gaping wound. He had been trying since he left Ohio to come up with a plausible explanation for his long absence, and nothing had materialized. He decided to be as vague as possible and to keep his memories to himself.
"I went east when I left the camp. South and east."
From the look on Ginger's face, Raoul faced the fact mere directions would not be enough. He grunted.
“Go on, Raoul. South and east covers a large part of the country. Where did you spend the summer?”
"I ended up in Ohio. Southern Ohio, up in the hills. I did some work for a family whose head of the household was off fighting in the Civil War."
"Really? Tell us about the family you helped." Ginger busied herself cutting up the meat for her daughter, but her eyes were on him.
Raoul shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing much to tell. There were four children and the wife. They had a workhorse. And a cow. I chopped wood and killed some deer for them."
"Four children? What were their names?" Ginger pressed for information.
"It is of no consequence."
He refused to share their names, or the name of the last child to be born. Having them so close to the surface in his mind constantly was nearly destroying him. If he were to open the window to that part of his soul, and reveal their names, their quirks, their hair color to Ginger, all would be lost. He rubbed his chest to ease his heartache.
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Ginger finally let the matter drop. At least,, for the moment. But Raoul was well aware his sister-in-law would bring the subject up again. Maybe next time, he would be better prepared for her questions.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
January became February with no let up in the snow falling over their mountaintop. The temperature was still freezing, and ice formed on everything left outside, making any work all that much harder. The wood Raoul had stacked so neatly up against the house was one solid block, encased in ice, and needed to be chipped at with the axe in order to release a few lengths of wood. Even though they were doing only what was necessary, Susannah and her children fell into bed exhausted each night. The rope line came in handy more than once as Hannah and Jacob cared for the animals in the barn. Animals Raoul used to manage. Susannah’s actions in the barn that night in late December meant her children had extra burdens placed on them. Her cheeks burned in shame. And in longing.
They struggled to keep the animals fed and their stalls mucked out, to keep the cow milked, and the fire going in the wood stove. They were surviving, thanks to Raoul's relentless planning. There was enough firewood to finish out winter, and they still had meat. But surviving was all they were doing. When was the last time any of them had laughed?
Each night, after the children were in bed, Susannah would bank the fire and climb into her nightclothes. She would brush her hair and rebraid it for sleeping. The whole time, she was reliving Raoul's touch as he undid her braid and his fingers had glided through her hair. A soft whimper accompanied her thoughts as she climbed between the covers each night. Her body ached, both from her daily exertion to keep the family together, and from the lack of a human's touch. She wondered again where he had gone to, if he were still alive, where he was now living—and with whom he was now sharing his life.
She also wondered about her husband. Where was William right now? Was he safe, was he still alive? Had he received her letter, telling him about their new baby? She pictured him hunkered down in some military camp waiting for winter to break and for the fighting to resume. Why could he not come home for even a few weeks? Would he ever return to her side?
Her dreams were vivid. Indian tepees shifted into Army tents, shielding both her men. Both her men, who thought she could exist and raise a family without them. They both had left her side. Left her on her own, with the lives of five children hanging in the balance. She struggled to make sense of her feelings.
Hannah came to her side the next morning, as she was nursing Missouria, and ran a finger over the baby's cheek.
"This baby is so lucky."
"Why do you say that, Hannah? Why is she lucky, and you not?"
"Because Lone Wolf had her blessed by his gods. She will do great things."
Hannah glanced at her mother, tears filling her eyes. Susannah wrapped her hand around the back of Hannah’s head and drew her in for a kiss.
“You will do great things, too, Hannah. You’re a strong, resilient young lady, destined for a charmed life. You’re the one who brought Lone Wolf to us. His hard work has helped us all get by this winter.”
“I miss him, Mama. I thought he would be back by now from wherever he'd gone." Hannah took a seat beside Susannah and Missouria.
Susannah laid her head on top of Hannah’s and drew her in for a hug. "Honey, Lone Wolf has gone for good. He's left us well-supplied, and winter will break soon so we can all get out into some sunshine. You'll feel better once the sky isn't so gray."
Hannah shook herself out of her mother's grasp. "As long as Lone Wolf is gone, I will never feel good."
Susannah sighed. She could relate. "Your father will be home soon, hopefully. Maybe that will make you feel better. Although he may not recognize you, since you've grown so much."
"And I may not recognize him, since he's been gone so long. Even longer than Lone Wolf has been gone."
Susannah noticed the tinge of bitterness with which her daughter spoke. She fought daily against that same feeling. Now, she must do what she could to quell her daughter’s distaste.
"Your father is fighting to keep our country safe. We must always keep in mind how much he's sacrificing for us and how much he misses us every day. We must do our part here at home and keep ourselves healthy and safe as we wait for his return."
"It was so much easier when Lone Wolf was here to help."
"And it will be easier once the weather changes."
The baby was nodding off to sleep, so Susannah placed her back into the cradle and rose to begin breakfast.
"Get the little ones dressed, will you, Hannah? And cheer up. Spring will come soon enough."
Yet, she wondered if spring would ever come. If they'd ever be happy again. If William would ever return home. If she'd ever again feel Raoul's touch. She put on her moccasins and went to the stove. She had no answers, but she did have hungry children. It was time to stop daydreaming and get to work.
♥•♥•♥
Raoul elected to stay behind while his father led his brothers away from St. Louis and into the hills to the west, where they could find more wild horses to break and sell. The Army needed a fresh supply of mounts for the Cavalry as the war continued to drag on longer than expected, and there were not enough horses left on the ranch to fill the order. Raoul's job, while everyone else was gone, was to take care of the horses they did have, and to clean the barn.
He appreciated the solitude, just him and the horses. Since arriving back into the family homestead he had been surrounded by relatives every time he moved. After spending so much time alone over the past year, he was finding having a constant family underfoot a bit hard to deal with. Ginger and Joseph's children clung to him, their fresh childish scents reminding him of another set of children. His heart ached for the Myers children as he played with these little ones. He longed to see Hannah again and to hear her childish chatter about her day. He wondered if Missouria had begun to crawl yet. And the ache in his groin reinforced the fact he missed Susannah most of all. As much as he enjoyed the company of his family, he also missed being alone with his thoughts.
Today, he could crawl into his own mind for as long as he wanted, hauling out each memory of his time spent on the Ohio mountaintop, with the children he’d come to love as his own. And his memories of Susannah, the woman he’d come to cherish. The woman he had almost made love to. It had taken every ounce of his strength and resolve to back away from her that final night in the barn. It would have been so easy to give in to their lust, since feelings were evident on both sides. But it would have been so wrong. At least he had nothing to be ashamed of. Almost, but not quite.
He got to work, first moving each horse out to the paddock while he cleaned the stall and laid down fresh hay in each cubicle, then grooming each horse when it returned to the barn. Tiny shards of hay dust filled the air, catching the sunlight as they floated around the stalls and filling the air with a clean scent. He sang Indian songs to calm the horses. It also had the effect of calming him.
When the door opened and he caught sight of Ginger, he banged his head against the boards of the stall. How had she tracked him down? The confounded woman would not leave without answers. Answers he had no wish to divulge. Ginger had been waiting for an opportunity to get him alone so she could delve deeper into the mystery of where he had spent his time. He should have gone hunting instead of offering to clean the barn. The damned woman had learned far too many of the Indian ways since she had married his brother.
"Hello, Raoul. I had hoped to find you here."
"Ginger." He hoped his lack of response would send her away. Instead, she came closer, as if the answers she sought were floating in the air around him and, if she got close enough, she could find what she was searching for. He begrudgingly admired her spunk. It reminded him of another woman. Another white woman. He turned from her and went back to his work. She did not take the hint. Instead, she took a seat on a hay bale and stared at him.
"Your burden would be lighter if you
tell someone your troubles. There’s no need to carry it alone. That’s what family is for. So, here I am—and I’m not leaving, despite your indifference to me. Tell me about the family you befriended while you were gone."
He shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the horse. "There is nothing to tell. Their man was off fighting, so I restocked their supplies and left."
"Was it a white family?"
Raoul nodded. Ginger was skirting closer to the truth than was comfortable. She tamed her auburn hair before she smoothed out her tan riding skirt and settled in. With a soft sigh, Raoul sat as well, on the opposite side of the big center aisle of the barn. He might as well get this conversation over with, since Ginger was not about to leave without some answers.
"Did the woman have light hair?"
Raoul's gaze leapt up and pierced into Ginger. Her eyes sparkled as she returned his gaze.
"Well, did she?"
Again, Raoul nodded. "How did you piece it together? Has living with my brother made you Indian? Are you now having vision quests of your own?"
Ginger laughed at his words. "I haven’t absorbed that much yet. When Etienne went north to spend last summer with his grandfather, he was hoping to be with you, as well. So Grandfather told him how you were fulfilling a vision, one that had something to do with a fair-haired lady. It was the first time we were made aware of Pale Moon’s passing. I'm so sorry about her death. I had hoped to meet her someday. The woman who tamed you, who replaced your anger at the world with love. She must have been someone special."
Raoul placed a piece of hay into his mouth and sucked on it, as if it were a pipe. His other hand stroked his chest, to ease the ache that was a constant. He avoided Ginger’s gaze. There was a long minute of silence, with only the sounds of the horses pawing and nickering to each other. Raoul hoped his silence would be enough to send her on her way. He risked a glance at the stubborn woman. Ginger had crossed her arms in front of her and was now drumming her fingers on them as she waited. She wasn't going anywhere. And the sooner Raoul gave her the information she craved, the quicker he would be alone again.
