by Sara Donati
“But perhaps a wee snooze,” he continued as if there hadn’t been any interruption in his thoughts. “It’s no’ tae early tae make camp, dinna ye think, Nathaniel?”
Elizabeth cast him a sour glance. “Robbie. There are hours of light left, and this is not a long carry.”
“Och, weel, lass,” he said, stroking his mustache thoughtfully. “Auld bones, ye ken.”
“Oh, I ken, I certainly do.” She hefted her pack with an annoyed tug. “Do you think I haven’t noticed that we stop earlier every day? Nathaniel, you need not coddle me. I am perfectly fine.”
“Maybe it’s not you we’re stopping for,” Nathaniel answered easily. “I’m still healing, in case you forgot. And there’s no hurry now, is there?”
Elizabeth looked at her husband. He had stripped to the waist, and he stood before her in nothing more than his breech-clout, sun-browned and glistening with sweat, the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed as he lifted his half of the canoe. His wounds were still bright red patches on his chest and back, but she hadn’t heard him catch his breath or cough in days. In fact, he was looking very much like a healthy male of the species, with a grin on his face that told her he was feeling anything but tired.
She gave in after they had walked the mile of the carry. Above the sandy beach where they would push off again there was a low bluff covered with scrub grass, bracketed on one side by a great wall of wild roses in full bloom. Just beyond, a stand of young birch and maple cast a blanket of cool shadow. Seeing all this, Elizabeth acknowledged that a longer rest would be welcome, and the men set about making camp.
She went down to the lake, stripping off her moccasins to wiggle her toes in the warm sand. When she had walked out to the point where the water almost reached the hem of her overdress, she washed as best she could, glad to be rid of the pennyroyal ointment even if the blackfly had not yet settled for the evening. She thought briefly of Made-of-Bones and Splitting-Moon, and for a moment she wished herself back in the long-house. In the company of any knowledgeable woman who would be able to tell her that what she was experiencing was normal, because Elizabeth’s greatest fear was that she would fail somehow in this, the most basic of womanly functions.
Treenie came capering into the water, plowing right past until she was nothing but a slick of floating red fur and a buttonlike black nose. Elizabeth considered joining her, calculated the length of time it would take to dry out the doeskin dress and leggings, and turned back to the shore where she waded, gathering as many of the fresh-water mussels as she could carry in her tented skirt. They were huge, bigger than her hand and pockmarked with shimmering limpets.
It was cool and pleasant on the beach. The dog made a halfhearted charge at a group of gulls who squawked and lumbered off like cranky old men. Since she had been traveling with them the red dog had become less of a hunter, and she seemed only slightly mystified at her lack of success. With a philosophical woof! to the gulls, Treenie galloped off down the shoreline after Robbie, who was gathering driftwood for a cook fire.
“Oh, the summertime is comin’,” he sang softly as he went about his work. “And the trees are softly bloomin’.” His voice faded as he disappeared around the curve of the little cove. Out on the water, Nathaniel sat in the canoe with his gaze fixed below the surface and a fishing spear balanced lightly in one hand.
Treenie came back along the beach, her wet coat clogged with sand, and lay down. Elizabeth joined her, content to sit for a while looking out at the lake to watch Nathaniel fish. The setting was beautiful, but she was so sleepy. Sometimes it seemed that she would never again be fully awake. With a little sigh of irritation, she roused herself finally and climbed the bluff to camp, where she left the mussels by the cook pot for Robbie to deal with. Then she took her rolled blanket from her pack and joined Treenie in the flickering silver shadows of the birch and hickory trees, where she made a quick tent and collapsed into jagged half dreams.
It was a cool and clear evening that provided a sunset over the mountains in a thousand layers of color, the kind of sunset that never failed to lift her spirits. The evenings were Elizabeth’s best time, and the nap had done her much good, although her appetite was not quite restored. There was bass grilling over a latticework of black willow splints, and a stew of mussels, dried beans, and wild onions, which she ate with forced enthusiasm. She had a secret longing for Curiosity’s best Sunday biscuits of wheaten flour, even as she crumbled the good Kahnyen’kehàka corncake into her bowl.
They were sitting on an upcropping of rock. Nathaniel was next to her, his empty bowl balanced on the long, flat plane of his thigh. From the corner of his eye, he was watching her eat while he threw bits of fish to Treenie. Robbie was on his third bowl of stew, and showed no signs of slowing down.
“Splitting-Moon told me that it was natural, you not being hungry,” Nathaniel offered. “The child takes what it needs, one way or the other, so you might as well give in, gracious like. Ain’t like you got much choice, either way.”
“Despotic leanings already.” Elizabeth smiled. “An ominous beginning.”
There was something he wanted to say; she could see it on his face, along with the reluctance. She raised an eyebrow in encouragement.
“Sarah never was sick, with either of her times,” he said. “It worried my mother. She said that a child setting properly will make itself known. If that makes it any easier.”
Elizabeth glanced up at him. In her misery it had never occurred to her that the nausea might be a good sign. And she hadn’t thought about—hadn’t wanted to think about—the fact that Nathaniel had been through this before, and was better acquainted with the process than she was. He knew enough to be worried about her, and to comfort her, too. She felt selfish, suddenly, and very self-centered.
He almost laughed. “You should see your face,” he said. “Only you would manage to feel guilty because you don’t like being sick.” He hugged her one-armed, while he tossed more wood on the fire. “It’ll pass, Boots, and you’ll be able to get back to teaching. That’s something to look forward to, at least.”
“There is quite a lot to look forward to at Hidden Wolf,” Elizabeth agreed. There were things to worry about, too. How it would be to share a small cabin with four other adults was something that kept her awake at night, knowing that there was nothing to be done about it and also that the lack of privacy would be the biggest challenge she would face. As she didn’t know how to raise this question with Nathaniel without sounding demanding and dissatisfied, she quickly sent her thoughts in another direction.
“It would be nice to know that I’ll have any students to teach. And there is always the possibility that my father has reclaimed the schoolhouse to use as a pigsty.”
Robbie looked up from his stew, the white crescents of his brows knitted together in surprise. “But Nathaniel’s bought the lan’ and the schoolhoose, too, fra’ yer faither, so ye needna fash yersel’ …” His voice trailed off as he saw the exasperated look Nathaniel sent his way, and he threw up one shoulder as if to ward off a blow.
“Laddie, ye’ll hae tae forgi’ me. I disremembered that she didna ken.”
“Pardon me?” Elizabeth asked, looking between the two of them. “You bought the schoolhouse?”
“Yes, and the land,” Nathaniel said. “From your father’s agent while I was in Albany. I meant it for a surprise, on homecoming.”
“Yes, I see that,” she murmured.
Robbie looked warily between them and then suddenly stood. “I’ve a mind tae take a wee walk doon the shore. It’s time I had a wash, for I fear I stink sae bad as a new recruit’s shirttail after his first battle. Will ye join me, Treenie?”
The dog was immediately at his side, her tail generating a significant breeze.
Nathaniel began to rise, but Elizabeth put a hand on his forearm.
“Oh, no,” she said. “I think not. You and I have things to discuss. Treenie is good company, and she’s more Robbie’s dog than mine now, any
way.”
The old soldier glanced at her, his head cocked to one side. “Do ye mean it? She is verra fond o’ ye, lass.”
“I will miss her,” Elizabeth said. “But yes, I mean it.”
“Weel, then, come along wi’ ye,” Robbie said softly to the red dog. “If ye are tae bide wi’ me, it’s time I taucht ye some manners.”
“That was kind of you,” Nathaniel said when Robbie had disappeared toward the lake. “He seems lonely, these days.”
“Nathaniel Bonner,” Elizabeth said, turning to her husband and fixing him firmly with her most concentrated schoolmistress gaze. “If you think you can distract me from the topic at hand with a few weak compliments, you are sorely mistaken.”
“For a woman in misery you’re sounding mighty sure of yourself,” he said dryly, trying to produce a scowl but not quite succeeding.
“Oh, very clever,” Elizabeth noted, matching his tone. “But making light of my discomfort—for which you are responsible, I might point out—is a tactic which will not divert me, Nathaniel.”
A hand passed over her back; he smiled and bent toward her mouth. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”
“And if insulting my powers of observation does not serve,” she said, tilting her head so that his mouth caught the crest of her cheek instead of its real target, “then you will try seduction.”
He laughed out loud, his eyes flashing irritation and pleasure in equal parts. “It’s good to see you feeling better,” he said. “Even if you are set on sharpening that tongue of yours on my hide.”
“I am not easily diverted, that is true. Would you have me more malleable?” It was a challenge, edged with worry.
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t change you, Boots, if I could. Aggravating as you are at times.”
“More flattery,” she said. “Do stop, or I shall swoon.”
Nathaniel sighed, apparently resigned to his fate. “So ask if you’re set on it, and I’ll answer if I can.”
Elizabeth thought for a moment, and then she put it to him as carefully as she could: “How is it that you went off to Albany with not quite enough money to pay both Richard and the taxes, and managed not only to do that, but also to buy a plot of land with a new building on it? If there is a price on your head for robbery, I should like to know about it.”
There was an edge of irritation in the way he ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe I’m just good at dealing.”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth conceded, trying to keep her tone even. “But even so, money cannot be created out of thin air. How did you make aunt Merriweather’s note stretch so far?”
“It was easy,” he said. His face had gone very watchful and still. “I didn’t use your aunt’s money at all. That’s all safe in the bank.”
It was not often that Elizabeth found herself speechless, but she could not think of a thing to say to her husband, whose eyes never moved from her face. Nathaniel reached into the neck of her dress to pull out the long silver chain. Along with it came his mother’s pearl cluster, Joe’s bijou, the panther tooth, and finally the gold coin, warmed by her skin. This he tapped softly.
“The Tory Gold?” Elizabeth asked, numbly. “You have the Tory Gold?”
“Not all of it,” Nathaniel said, sitting back, suddenly tense and very wary.
She stood abruptly and pointed at him, her finger trembling slightly. “You didn’t have a dollar to wager at the turkey shoot!”
Nathaniel peered up at her, one eye narrowed. “Couldn’t exactly toss a five-quid gold piece at Billy Kirby and ask for change. Not without giving the game away.”
“The game?” Her voice wobbled. “The game? What game is it that you mean? The one when you convinced me that marriage was the only way to secure Hidden Wolf away from Richard? That game?”
Nathaniel stood, and put his hands on her shoulders. “I never said that,” he said softly. “If you’ll think back.”
She pulled away. “Did or did you not have a chest full of gold at your disposal at the very time you were telling me that you could not match Richard Todd’s bid on Hidden Wolf?”
“Chingachgook gave us leave to spend as much of the gold as we needed, back in December, but we couldn’t,” Nathaniel said. “Not without drawing the government of the state of New-York and the British army down on our heads. Not to mention—”
“Jack Lingo,” Elizabeth supplied.
Nathaniel grimaced. “Aye. Jack Lingo.”
“This whole journey was for naught,” she said dully.
“No!” He reached out toward her but she stepped away. “Elizabeth. Even if we could have handed the gold over for the land without half the world coming down on us, it wouldn’t have done any good. You know that. Your father was set against selling it to us from the start, because it was the only way he had of keeping Richard Todd in line—by marrying you off to him, for the mountain.”
“Yes,” she hissed. “But none of that would have come as a surprise. You might have told me the truth. You might have trusted me.”
“Elizabeth. I trust you with my life. I would have told you before we got back to Paradise.” Nathaniel paused, his face clouding. “I didn’t tell you back to start with, because—”
“Yes?” She waited in a kind of void, terrified of what he might say, but needing the truth anyway.
“Because I was afraid of losing you, if there was another way to get the mountain. I couldn’t see a way out, but I figured you might.”
The words hung there between them, over the shimmering heat of the fire. Elizabeth watched them floating for three beats of her heart. There was a ticking sound in her throat.
“It was the pretense of my aunt’s money that allowed you to use your own?” She wondered at how calm she sounded.
He nodded.
“But why did you not simply use my aunt’s funds?” she asked. “It was there for the specific purpose of buying me out of my father’s troubles. Why not leave your own resources for another time?”
The muscles in his throat were working, and the look in his eyes made her heart ache. He had not used aunt Merriweather’s money because the drive to own the mountain was stronger than anything else. He had got her, and the mountain and the schoolhouse, on his own terms.
Elizabeth looked away to try to sort out her thoughts, struggling desperately for some balance, but finding none.
“So in fact, you did buy Hidden Wolf without my help.” She heard the tone of her voice rising, but she could not stop it. “And so I deceived my father out of his land to offer it to you—of my own free will—but you preferred to take it away from me instead. To suit your pride and to spite Richard.”
They stood almost nose to nose, each of them breathing audibly.
“That’s unfair,” he said, the muscle in his cheek trembling dangerously. “We are legally married, Elizabeth, so it didn’t seem to matter where the money came from—”
“Oh, really,” she interrupted, her eyes flaring. “Completely insignificant, was it?”
His brow furrowed, he said: “I thought you’d be pleased to have the schoolhouse, and your own money, too.”
“No, Nathaniel. You have the schoolhouse. You bought it and the land it stands on with your money.”
“To give to you!” he roared.
“You are impossibly dense!” she shouted, pushing at him with the heel of one hand so that he stepped backward. His expression shifting from surprise to anger, he stumbled and righted himself awkwardly, but she advanced on him again.
“Had you thought, had it not occurred to you, that perhaps I wanted to own something of my own? That for once it would be welcome not to be given something, but to claim it for myself?”
He had that tic in his cheek, the one she had last seen when he held a bloodied and helpless Richard Todd in his sights.
“So you wouldn’t mind accepting the schoolhouse as a gift from your aunt, but you won’t have it from me?” He laughed hoarsely. “More wisdom from Mrs. Wollstonecraft?”
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Elizabeth raised her face to the darkening sky and let out a half scream of frustration. “You vain, self-centered, thoughtless, bloody man!”
“For Christ’s sake, woman, I was trying to give you something you said you wanted!”
“But you had to take it away from me first, did you not? You are no better than Richard Todd!”
Nathaniel’s head rocked back as if she had slapped him.
Horrified at her own words and still angry beyond her experience, Elizabeth looked around herself wildly, as if seeking help in the deepening shadows.
In two long strides Nathaniel reached the pyramid of supplies and weapons on the far side of the fire, and sweeping up his rifle in one hand, he jerked it up toward her, stock first. His jaw was set like granite. “Looking for this?” he asked sharply.
She drew in a shuddering breath.
“Go on,” he said, dead calm. “Finish the job you started, if that’s what you think of me.”
Elizabeth stood very still, her fury suddenly spent: she could feel it running down her body, dripping from her fingertips with each shallow beat of her heart.
Every muscle in Nathaniel’s arm stood out in relief, his fist strained white around the barrel of the gun. His mouth was set in a line just as unyielding. Sudden tears pricked behind her eyes and in her throat, a pain past bearing.
She turned away and walked into the woods.
Robbie was sitting near the fire whittling a new penny whistle when she returned, and he met her with a look of such compassion and sorrow that she nearly lost her resolve. She shook her head at him briefly. Nathaniel was stretched out on the far side of the fire, a long shape under his blanket turned away on one side. She knew he was not asleep; she could hear it in his breathing and see it in the tension in his shoulders.
Elizabeth stood at the edge of the small camp and hesitated. Robbie was watching her; Nathaniel had not moved. She approached him and stood looking down.
