Frontier Engagement

by Regina Scott

  He was curled up as well as he might along the branch, fingers gripping the bark. Long bronzed lashes lay against his golden skin, his face soft with sleep. He’d removed her lace hood, and a day’s worth of beard wreathed his mouth and speckled his chin.

  Somewhere, a branch must have moved, for suddenly sunlight bathed his face. His eyes popped open, and his gaze met hers. He grinned, and something brightened inside her.

  “Now, that’s a fine sight to wake up to,” he said, and she wasn’t sure he meant the sun.

  He helped her to the ground in the sling, then tossed the clothes down to her. She was certain the Fosgraves would never have dreamed the use to which she and James had put the fine garments. Then again, maybe they would.

  She’d very nearly told him about her parents last night, but she hadn’t been able to convince herself that he’d understand. For everyone but her, royalty was something told in stories or read about in the newspaper or books. And she truly wasn’t royalty, unless there really had been a king and queen wandering about America and forgetting their two-year-old princess in the process. Raised in such a family as the Wallins, how could James possibly understand her upbringing? He’d think her mad or as crooked as the Fosgraves.

  So she avoided the topic of family that morning as they prepared to set off once more. She managed to comb out her hair with her fingers and repin it behind her head. Her cloak was heavy with dew, and she didn’t relish wrapping it about her, but James took it from her before she could put it on. He’d laid out several leaves on the ground, their edges curling up toward the sun so they resembled little cups. Now he gripped the wool of her cloak and twisted, strong fingers wringing the material. Water pattered down on the leaves, filling them.

  “You looked like you could use a stiff drink,” he said as he shook out the cloak.

  Smiling at his teasing and his ingenuity, Rina lifted a leaf and drank. The cool water cleared her throat and her head. When he’d finished drinking as well, she used the last drops to wash her hands and face.

  “Now that’s just gilding the lily,” James accused her.

  “We may not be able to find civilization,” she countered, “but we can still be civilized.”

  He swept her a bow, one hand pointing toward a long fallen log, which must be the start of their path for the day. “Of course, my lady. This way, if you please.”

  With him smiling so broadly, it wasn’t hard to feel encouraged. The sun was shining, brightening the green of the forest. Birds called from the woods and flittered through the trees ahead of them as if leading the way.

  “Ah, perfect,” James said, stopping by a broad, leafy plant and plucking off some of the reddish berries. “Try these.”

  Rina accepted his gift, lifted them to her nose and sniffed.

  James raised a brow. “Do you think I’d poison you?”

  She blushed. “No, of course not.” She put some of the berries in her mouth and chewed. They had a sweet and sour taste, reminding her a bit of ripe oranges.

  James was watching her. “Like them?”

  She nodded, swallowing. “Yes, thank you.”

  He cocked his head. “No muscle spasms, stomach cramps?”

  Rina nearly choked. “No. Should there be?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. But if you didn’t die, I figure I can eat them.” He popped the remaining berries in his mouth.

  “James Wallin...” she started, then she saw that telltale sparkle in his eyes. “Oh, you tease! You behave, or you’ll be wearing those berries.”

  He flipped at the hood he had stuck back on his head. “Don’t be silly. They wouldn’t go well with lace.”

  Rina gave it up and laughed.

  The downed tree led to an open, marshy area, which James was careful to skirt, pointing out the thick mud along the edges. A swarm of tiny flies chased them into the forest, where the bushes grew so dense that at times he had to shove his way through to wedge an opening for her. Brambles scratched her face and hands; branches tugged at her hair and skirts. Her half boots, which had never been all that sturdy to begin with, were starting to protest the hard work. She refused to complain. James had enough to concern him.

  Though, as usual, he didn’t appear in the least concerned. He strolled along, ducking under branches, detouring around bushes, keeping up a steady stream of nonsense she was certain was meant to distract her from their predicament. It nearly worked.

  “You know,” he said as the sun climbed higher, “I’m not too sure, but I think today is Sunday.”

  Rina thought back as she followed him around a massive fir that blocked their way. “I believe it is.” Which meant Mr. Buckhorn had left the Crossing empty-handed. She couldn’t help her sigh.

  James must have heard it, for he straightened. “Now, then. No need for that. Weren’t you the one who told me people didn’t need a church building to worship?”

  He had mistaken the reason for her sigh, but she decided not to correct him. “The Lord will forgive us for not worshiping in style, given our situation.”

  James stopped in his tracks. “I do nothing, madam, unless it is with style.” Before she could comment, he glanced around so fast the lace fluttered about his face. He seized her hand. “Come on.”

  He had the maddest starts! Rina stumbled behind him as he led her into the forest. Suddenly he stopped again, grabbing her shoulders to turn her to the right. Twelve mighty cedars grew in a ring, the space in the center covered in needles so thick they resembled a scarlet carpet. Sunlight set the resinous air to sparkling. The forest fell silent around them, as if waiting.

  “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” James began, voice a warm tenor as he pulled off the hood and lifted his gaze heavenward. “That saved a wretch like me.”

  “I once was lost, but now I’m found,” Rina sang, joining her soprano to the melody. “Was blind, but now I see.”

  And suddenly, she felt as if she could see. The light was so clear, the song so pure. The world might change around her, but she could choose to be who she was through it all. She didn’t have to let anyone take that from her.

  James’s hand reached for hers, and she clasped it tightly. They finished the song together and stood for a moment, sunlight bathing their faces.

  James lowered his head. “Now that,” he said with a smile, “is worshiping in style.”

  She could not argue with him there. With a tug on her hand, he led her forth once more. The birds began to sing around them. Her fears fell away with each step. They were going to be all right. She could feel it.

  Thank You, Lord!

  “Keep an eye out, now,” he said after they’d paused to graze on a patch of mushrooms. “Look for a column of smoke, any sign of a trail. McKenzie’s can’t be the only homestead out this way. If we find one, we ought to be able to beg food and a ride.”

  “Beg?” She couldn’t like that word. Her adopted parents had never begged, even for mercy. Of course, they’d just lied their way out of any scrape, which she thought no more heroic.

  “In a matter of speaking,” he assured her, dusting his hands off on his trousers. “We haven’t much to pay with. We’ll have to rely on the goodness of their hearts.”

  Just like the Fosgraves. “We shall offer them the clothes,” Rina insisted. “I refuse to do anything to incur a debt.”

  He pulled up the last remaining fungi and stuffed them in a pocket. “You mentioned debts yesterday. You don’t look like the sort to run up bills.” He eyed her. “Wait, don’t tell me. They were all to your milliner.”

  Rina shook her head. “The milliner was the least of my problems. My family had a tendency to live beyond their means. It is a philosophy I do not share.”

  “Me either,” he replied, holding out his hand to help her up. “Right now, I just want to live.”

 
So did she.

  They kept walking, wandering a circuitous route through the woods to avoid marshes and cliffs, taking time to rest now and then, and to drink from swiftly flowing streams. The day warmed, until the layers of clothing felt considerably less comfortable. Once in a while she thought she could hear something in the bushes, but it always scuttled away without showing itself, for which she was thankful. But no smoke, no path and no sign of civilization greeted them.

  James did not complain. She was fairly sure he slowed his pace to allow her to keep up. He’d have been much farther along if not for her. Talk about debt!

  The sun was once more dipping to the west when she spotted an outline through the trees. She grabbed James’s arm with one hand and pointed with the other.

  “Is that a house?”

  James squinted. He hadn’t replaced the hood, but the exertion of the day had plastered his hair to his head. “I think you’re right. Come on!”

  He towed her through the brush to where it opened onto a small clearing. The log cabin huddled in the center had clearly seen better days. The porch sagged to the muddy ground. Moss all but obscured the roof. But the windows were shuttered against the night, and the solid door was closed against the wind, iron latch slowly turning red with rust.

  “Anyone home?” James called as they approached.

  Rina wasn’t surprised when no one answered.

  Still, as if to make sure, James went from side to side, examining the cabin from every angle. Did he expect to see a friendly hand waving through a hole in the wall?

  “Someone must have abandoned the claim,” he said as he returned to her. “We should be able to stay here safely tonight.” He cast about. “They must have had a water source.”

  “Let me look,” Rina offered. “See if you can find a way in.”

  “That’s easy.” He backed off a little and took a run at the door, crashing into it with a jar that shook the house so hard Rina thought it might keel over. The door stayed shut. James stepped back, rubbing his shoulder.

  “Perhaps use the latch?” she suggested.

  With a rueful grin, he tried, and the door creaked open.

  Rina was almost afraid to see what lay inside. James left the door open, so light filtered past them as they peered in. The floor seemed solid, the planks dusty but without obvious holes. One wall boasted a stone hearth, but it didn’t look as if the previous occupants had left anything else behind.

  James glanced her way. “Well?”

  “It will do,” she answered.

  Outside, they located a rusting pump with a pipe leading down into the ground. The first few yanks on the handle yielded nothing but dust. James gave the pump a good kick before backing away. “Useless.”

  “Perhaps it takes patience,” Rina said, bending. She kept cranking the handle, up and down, up and down, until her arms ached. The spigot spat out something black and oily. That was enough to make her stop, but James brightened.

  “Keep it up,” he urged. He ran around to the closest corner of the house, where muddy water had pooled from the recent rain. Scooping up a handful, he ran back to the pump and dribbled the water into a valve on the top as Rina worked the handle. With a gurgle, water spilled out onto the ground.

  “Hallelujah!” James declared. He seized Rina’s hands and swung her around in a circle, boots splashing in the puddle left from the pump. “We have water!”

  Strange how such a small success could make her giddy. She didn’t want to let go, could barely tear her gaze from his. Still, Rina pulled away, forcing him to halt.

  “We have water,” she agreed, trying to catch her breath. “But we need more than that to make it through the night.”

  He backed away, holding up one finger. “You’re right. I’ll find food. You start the fire.” He tossed her his flint kit and dashed off into the brush.

  The fire. She fingered the cool metal of the little box, remembering what had happened last night. How could he believe in her after that performance?

  Still, she was certain she must have learned something from his demonstration. After taking a long drink from the pump, she lay the kit on the edge of the porch. Then she moved in a half circle around the door, keeping it in sight as she gathered fallen branches, twigs and dried fir cones. She brought it all into the house and piled it near the cold hearth.

  Sitting with her skirts puddled around her, she built a mound of tinder in the center of the hearth, then overlapped the twigs in a square around it. She took a deep breath and held it as she scraped the flint from James’s kit over the stone inside it. Tiny sparks like falling stars tumbled down, and spots of red warmed the pile. She bent closer and blew softly, hoping, praying. The spots widened, flared.

  Rina sat back with a smile. “Just like tending your first love.”

  She kept the fire burning, adding larger branches around the sides as needed. She used one that still had needles on it to sweep out the worst of the dust on the floor. Then she laid out her now hopelessly rumpled clothes in two lines opposite the fire for beds.

  As she stepped back to admire her handiwork, something crunched under her foot. Bending, she found an ivory thimble, cracked from the impact. Not much to show for a life. But then, could she say any better?

  Her pleasure at her accomplishments rushed away like water in a sieve, and her concerns filled the void.

  Lord, what am I to do? All I wanted was to teach. Even that will be denied me now if other school districts are anything like the White River one. Where will I go? How will I pay my way?

  Despite her best efforts, tears were gathering once more. She sniffed them back. She had to find the convictions she’d felt earlier. Surely there was something she could do.

  “Just like home,” James proclaimed, coming through the door and closing it behind him. Through the cracks on the shutters the setting sun lit the room with a red glow. In James’s grip, she could make out a long stick with something wiggling on the end of it. She turned her back and wiped at her tears before he could see them.

  She needn’t have bothered. She heard him pause, his voice sad. “Are you crying again?”

  Rina refused to look at him. “Certainly not.”

  The stick thunked as he must have set it down. Then he moved to her side.

  “I’m sorry, Rina,” he said, peering up under her fingers. “You have every right to be concerned. I know I haven’t found a way out of this yet, but I won’t stop trying. I promise.”

  This time it wasn’t hard to believe him. He liked to joke and tease, make light of most situations. But when it came to important matters, like his family’s school and her safety, he took things seriously indeed.

  “I know you will,” she told him. “These last two days have merely made me wonder about my future.”

  He smiled. “Well, then. Rethinking the need to relocate to the White River?”

  He was so pleased with himself she might have thought he’d planned all this. “I fear there may not be a need to go anywhere. There will be some who claim I’m ruined. I spent the night alone with a man who is not of my family.”

  He snorted. “Pretty shortsighted of them. How else were you to survive?”

  He didn’t understand. “That is immaterial. My reputation will have been compromised. I’ll be deemed unfit to teach.”

  “Because surviving would have affected your teaching skills,” he said with a nod. “Oh, yes, I see the sense in that. You probably forgot how to add and subtract, much less speak properly.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you started using double negatives.”

  “Be serious!” Rina scolded. “The notion may seem far-fetched to you, but I assure you my employers will take a different view.”

  “A demented one,” he replied, straightening. “You were worth your wei
ght in gold before, Rina. Nothing’s changed.”

  She threw up her hands. “Everything’s changed! If I lose my profession, I forfeit any chance of supporting myself.”

  He grinned at her. “Nothing to worry about there. If no one else will have you, you can always marry me.”

  “That isn’t funny!” she insisted.

  “No? Maybe I should try harder.” He went down on one knee and raised his hands beseechingly. “Please, Miss Fosgrave, I know I’ll never be worthy of you, but since it seems you have nothing better to do, won’t you marry me?”

  * * *

  He’d thought he’d been silly enough to win a smile from her. Anything would be better than the bleak look she’d worn when he’d brought back dinner. Instead, she blanched.

  “No,” she said, taking a step back. “Now, please, get up. If you cannot take your own life seriously, leave mine out of it.” She turned and hurried to the piles of cloth, leaving him looking at her back.

  James climbed to his feet. “I didn’t mean to offend you. But I refuse to see tragedy and destruction everywhere I look. There’s too much of that in this world, and I can’t change most of it.”

  “Ignoring it won’t make it go away,” she told the wall.

  “Groveling in it won’t make it better,” he countered. “At least a laugh and a joke make people smile. Usually.”

  She sniffed. “You must think I have no sense of humor. I do see you’re trying to make light of a bad situation. I simply cannot think what to do. I never intended this to be my life. At times I feel as if I’m wearing someone else’s skin.”

  James shuddered. “Well, that sounds hideous. So, what did you intend to do if not teach? Marry some wealthy society fellow?”

  She sighed. When she spoke, her voice was subdued. “No. I thought I’d rule a nation.”