by Sara Donati
“Has Kitty spoken to you about Richard?”
“Kitty ain’t been down here since the first snow,” said Anna. “The child’s got an appetite, and she can’t get far away.”
The perfectly round and bald head of Martha’s youngest popped up out of the feed box where she had settled him, as if he had been called. He smiled at Elizabeth, displaying two tiny teeth.
“It’s Daisy who comes by these days, most oft. On her way to the smithy, don’t you know.” This was accompanied by the grin and wink Anna reserved for matters of courtship. “Kitty herself don’t go out much, as I understand it. Except for the occasional sleigh ride.” The generous mouth twitched at the corner as Anna struggled with the urge to say more.
“The judge don’t care for those sleigh rides much,” said Martha. “If the sour look on his face is any indication.”
From nearer the hearth, Charlie LeBlanc spoke up. “I think you women are being unfair,” he said. “Richard ain’t doing nothing wrong. If she don’t want his sleigh rides, she’ll send him on his way.”
Anna dropped a bolt of cloth with a soft thud. “Some men don’t budge so easy as you, Charlie.”
Jed McGarrity coughed loudly into his fist. “Aw, Anna. The boy’s got a point. Maybe Kitty likes Richard coming around. Maybe she’s lonely.”
“It is high time we called on her, in that case,” said Elizabeth.
Dutch Ton was waiting for them in front of the trading post, swaddled in bearskin and his unmistakable smells. The shy, dark-toothed smile he gave her from under the brim of his old tricorn could not make him smell any better, but Elizabeth swallowed hard and tried to smile back.
“It were a bad fall,” he said, as if he were picking up a conversation which had been interrupted just a few minutes before. “You better now?”
“Much better, thank you.”
With fingers the color of charcoal he began to search through the sparse beard thoughtfully. Then he touched the patch over his eye.
“He’s better off dead. Old Lingo were mean.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed.
“I come to bring your pretties,” he said, shuffling one boot against the frozen ground. “Did you get ’em?”
“My wedding ring, yes.” Elizabeth held up her hand. “And the hair clasp. Thank you very much.”
“I come to tell you about a man, too,” he said. “But I forget his name. He’s looking for you all.”
Nathaniel seemed to come suddenly awake. “Was it my father? Did he have a message for me?”
“No.” Dutch Ton shook his head. “Funny-talking man from across the water, asking about Hawkeye. Met him when I come through Fish House. He hired a scout and went off to find Robbie, see if he knew where your pa might be.”
Elizabeth would have put her hand on Dutch Ton’s sleeve if she could have forced herself past the smell. As it was, she tried to smile kindly.
“What did this man say that he wanted with Hawkeye?”
The big trapper shrugged. A blank look stole over his face, to be replaced suddenly by a guileless smile. “The Earl of Carrick,” he announced.
“Who?” Elizabeth asked, dumbfounded.
“That were his name. The Earl of Carrick. And he were lookin’ for Dan’l Bonner, or for somebody called Jamie Scott.”
With a satisfied nod, his errand finally completed, the big man pulled his hat down firmly over his brow and muttered a farewell. He turned and shuffled off, without further discussion.
“He cannot have understood correctly,” Elizabeth said, mostly to herself. “What would a Scots earl be doing in the bush, looking for your father? And how does he come to know of the name you use in the Albany bank?”
Nathaniel rubbed a finger over the bridge of his nose. “God knows,” he said, looking distinctly uneasy. “Maybe this earl is looking for the gold, too.”
Elizabeth stared after Dutch Ton, and as if he felt the weight of her gaze, he turned from the edge of the wood and waved.
“I wonder if we’ll see him again.”
“Oh, I expect so,” Nathaniel said. Then he tugged lightly on her arm. “Are you still of a mind to call on Kitty today?”
“I am,” she said, shaking herself slightly. “Perhaps my father will know something of this earl.”
The path up through the woods toward the judge’s had been broken, but the snow was still wet and heavy. After minutes, Nathaniel stopped to peer down into her flushed face.
“We should have ridden. We’ll borrow a horse to get you home.”
“Don’t fuss, Nathaniel. The exercise does me good.”
He made a sound in his throat that was somewhere between reluctant acknowledgment and reservation.
“Richard may well be there,” she said. “It cannot be put off forever. I must thank him for his help.”
Under her hand, Nathaniel’s arm tensed. “I know what we owe him,” he said. “What I don’t know is how Kitty fits into his plans.”
“Falling-Day thinks he has changed,” Elizabeth said, watching his expression from the corner of her eye. “He spent time with his brother. Perhaps he has come to terms with some of what plagues him.”
He laughed without a bit of humor. “Here he comes now,” he said. “You can ask him.”
Richard had appeared from around the very turn where, not so very long ago, his team had bolted with Elizabeth in his sleigh. Now he pointed his gelding’s head toward them and approached at a walk.
Elizabeth felt Nathaniel go straight and silent, all of his energy flung forward. She knew if she looked at him she would find his expression wiped clear of all emotion, only his eyes flashing a warning. On Richard’s face there was the same wariness and reserve: they faced each other over Elizabeth’s head as tense and silent as wolves.
Richard slid down from his saddle and stood there, slapping one palm lightly with the reins.
“If you’re on your way to see the judge, he’s gone to call on Mr. Witherspoon,” he said. He pulled his hat from his head and ran a freckled hand through the mane of hair. “If it’s Kitty you’re interested in, I’m told it’s her rest time.” He focused on Elizabeth. “You’re better? The wound healed clean?”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, not quite sure how to respond to this neutral tone.
“I’ve been by your place twice,” said Nathaniel stiffly. “Didn’t find you in. Came to thank you for your help.”
“I am in your debt,” Elizabeth added.
Richard raised a brow. Snow was settling on his hair; a rivulet of water ran over its brightness and down his forehead, but he did not move to brush it away. “You made me a promise once.”
Until this moment, Elizabeth did not realize how much she had hoped Falling-Day had been right about Richard. Full of dread, she said: “I did as I promised. I appeared before the court, and answered the inquiries put to me. The court did not decide in your favor.”
“I am aware of that,” Richard said, one corner of the thin mouth turned downward.
“But you are determined still to try to take what is not yours,” Elizabeth said.
Richard’s head came up slowly. The frenzied anger that had been so much a part of him in the bush and at Good Pasture seemed to be gone. “The mountain is yours.”
Nathaniel stilled beside her. “After all these years, it comes down to that? Why should we believe you?”
Richard only blinked, a decidedly Kahnyen’kehàka blink, the kind of blink she got from Runs-from-Bears.
“You said you’d bury me on the mountain, when my time comes.”
Nathaniel’s eyes were fever-bright. “I remember.”
“That’s all I’m asking. I won’t go back to court on the mountain if you’ll give me that much.”
The column of muscles in Nathaniel’s throat moved visibly. “Hannah is my daughter,” he said. “I want to hear you say so.”
Richard thrust out his chin, his head jerking back. His whole frame went still, and Elizabeth was overcome by a dread so palpa
ble that she suddenly found it hard to stand. Nathaniel’s hand steadied her, but his gaze never wavered from the man in front of him.
“Hannah is Sarah’s daughter,” Richard said. And then: “Hannah is your daughter.”
Elizabeth leaned into Nathaniel and felt a tremor pass through him. On his face was the same disbelief and relief that must be on her own.
“In that case, if all you’re asking is burial rights on the Wolf, then I’ll give you that. And gladly.” He was clenching and unclenching his right fist; Elizabeth wanted to grab it and thrust it toward Richard, to see their hands sealed around these words that had passed between them.
“That’s all I’m asking of you,” Richard said. “But I’ll ask Elizabeth a favor in payment for the good turn I did her.”
“Settle the business between you,” Elizabeth said. “And then you and I can talk.”
When Nathaniel put out his hand, Richard met it without hesitation. Elizabeth could not look away from the sight of two strong hands clasped. Whether he was to be trusted, that was still a question that could not be answered with any certainty. She was consumed with curiosity about what had transpired in Montreal between this man and his brother, but she thought she might never know. On an audible sigh, Elizabeth said: “This business you have with me. Is it about Kitty?”
Richard’s gaze shifted away from Nathaniel. “Yes. I’d ask you to let her make up her own mind.”
“Kitty is a mother and a widow,” said Elizabeth. “Her view of the world has changed, I think, even without any help of mine.”
“I noticed,” said Richard. “But you managed to put the idea of going to England in her head, you and your aunt Merriweather.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of herself. She wanted to hold on to the excitement and relief of the past few minutes, but Richard could still agitate and irritate. She was tempted to give him what he promised without discussion, but then she feared also that to start off with less than honesty was to doom this uneasy truce.
“Pardon my confusion, but I cannot quite be sure who it is you are courting. Is it the Kitty you left alone and without word for the entire summer, or is it my brother’s widow and the mother of my father’s heir? Perhaps you have given up on the mountain to go after a bigger prize.”
Richard’s head snapped back and the color rose on his cheeks.
“Kitty has changed,” he said. “But you haven’t. If you were a man, I’d call you out for that.”
Elizabeth grabbed Nathaniel’s arm to keep him where he was.
“Do you mean to point out that I cannot be diverted from the issue at hand? Let me promise you this much: I will not exert undue influence on Kitty, or lie to her, if you will promise likewise. If in the end she decides to go to England, you will not hinder her. If she decides to stay, I will not try to change her mind. If your intentions are honorable, then I cannot see how this agreement could displease you.”
Richard hesitated, the thoughts sparking vaguely behind his eyes. His gaze rested briefly on Nathaniel, and then shifted away.
“Done,” he said hoarsely.
“We’ll hold you to it,” Nathaniel said.
Richard hefted himself back into the saddle. “It’s not my half of the bargain that worries me,” he said. “It’s your wife’s.” And he wheeled his horse away, and was gone.
“He plans to marry Kitty before the year’s out,” Nathaniel said.
Elizabeth was not sure of that, but she thought it would not be wise to say so at this moment; Nathaniel’s irritation was too close to the surface. “You may be right,” she said. “But I think Kitty has a surprise or two in store for him.”
Nathaniel grunted softly. “Let’s hope she leads him on a chase out of Paradise.”
Elizabeth picked up her skirts and took his arm once again. “That is one wish that you may actually see fulfilled.”
They found Kitty not at rest, but in the kitchen with Curiosity and her daughters. The baby was in a cradle near the hearth burbling softly to himself, completely at ease with the great deal of noise and laughter that filled the room. Kitty stood at the long table, her arms elbow-deep in bread dough.
Curiosity put down her spoon with a thump and came toward them like a small storm. “You ain’t got no more common sense than a home-struck cow, walkin’ here in that snow. Sit down by the fire and I’ll bring you some tea. Your head ache, don’t it? Nathaniel, what was you thinking?”
“Short of trussing her like a calf, she couldn’t be stopped, Curiosity.”
“She is single-minded,” Kitty supplied, wiping her hands on a piece of sackcloth.
“I hope that is sufficient discussion of my character deficiencies,” said Elizabeth, taking the seat that was pressed upon her.
There was a great deal of rushing around and talk as the walkers were stripped of their wet shoes and garments. Curiosity presented them with toweling to dry themselves, tea and plates of cake, and bits of the day’s news: Ethan had slept through the night for the second time in a row, which explained Kitty’s clear eyes and high spirits at least in part. Manny had cut his hand at the mill, and would not be able to work for a week or more. Joshua Hench and Daisy would be married on New Year’s Day, and the judge had offered them the parlor for the ceremony. There was a letter from aunt Merriweather which must be read aloud, as it was addressed to Elizabeth as well as Kitty. It included the story of her meeting with Abigail Adams, a woman Aunt found to be both overworked and over-praised.
The baby began to fuss, and Daisy swooped down to snatch him up and deliver him to his mother’s lap. Kitty settled in a rocker on the far side of the hearth with the boy at her breast, carrying on an animated conversation with Polly about his recent growth of dark hair.
“Did you see, Elizabeth?” she called. “His eyes are such a bright blue now, and Curiosity says they will stay that way.”
On her way out the door with a pile of laundry, Curiosity paused. “He got your mama’s eyes, Elizabeth. Clear as the heavens.”
The baby let out a belch many sizes too large for such a small person, and Kitty laughed out loud. “I hope he will have some of her delicacy of manner, too.”
Elizabeth said, “I think motherhood agrees with you, Kitty.”
“Yas’m, that it does.” Curiosity winked at them, and then disappeared down the hall.
Flushing with pleasure at this praise, Kitty bent her blond head over her son’s dark curls and looked up again only when Polly and Daisy sat down to their spinning nearby. Nathaniel leaned over to whisper in Elizabeth’s ear.
“Richard has a battle before him,” he said softly. “And he has none of the right weapons.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked, truly amazed.
He gestured with his chin to the three young women, deep in a conversation that wove in and out of the rhythmic clatter and whirr of the spinning wheels.
“She’s never had a home like this, with women around her. Do you think she’ll give up Curiosity and this kitchen for Richard and feathered bonnets? Even your aunt might not be able to get her away, in the end.”
“It is true I have never seen her so much at ease. Is it not strange, Nathaniel? A year ago I could not imagine ever leaving Paradise while Kitty could not wait to get out, and now—” She hesitated.
Nathaniel ran a thumb over her cheekbone. “Are we going, then?” His eyes with all their complexity of light and dark, and the greens and golds and browns of the great north woods. His gaze held her firmly bound to him, as firmly he had held her in his arms and would hold her again, in common purpose, in sorrow and joy.
“I don’t know,” she murmured, catching his hand against her face. “I truly do not know.”
Whether they stayed in Paradise or went, it did not matter, not really. Not if she could look up and find him there. Mine, she thought simply. Mine.
LXII
Christmas, 1793
He was lost.
Not more than five miles north of Hidden Wolf on lands
he had roamed and trapped and hunted all his life, Nathaniel couldn’t deny that he had lost his way, and on Christmas Eve. At his feet there was a spattering of blood in the snow, and the glassy stare of the buck that had brought him so far afield. He had won the battle of wits and persistence, and he had lost: to pack the deer out he would need to butcher it first, and there was no time.
In the trees above and behind him he was vaguely aware of a restlessness. Drawn by the smell of blood, the wolves that often followed at a distance when he hunted without the dogs—as he did today—edged closer, eager enough that they might soon risk the rifle. Nathaniel neither feared the pack nor begrudged them the meal that he would have to leave behind; game was plentiful this season. His irritation was only with himself, for letting the chase get the better of him when he had come out with nothing more than a Christmas turkey in mind.
Out of habit and training, he reloaded his rifle and then he straddled the buck. With quick and economical movements of his knife he took the saddle to roast for tomorrow’s dinner, his nostrils flaring at the coppery rush. The mist of his breath mixed with the steam from the open cavity.
The cloud cover that had swallowed the sun was moving down the mountain slope, quietly devouring the snow-choked pine and white cedar so that even the constant chirp and fuss of the redpolls was dampened. Nathaniel swung his pack and rifle into place and began to climb upward anyway, the icy snow crackling underfoot. To walk hard was the only way to keep warm without building a fire, and to walk uphill toward the ridge was the only hope he had of getting his bearings. If the cloud cover broke. If the storm held off.
Elizabeth had taught school this afternoon, but she would be at home by now. Waiting for him. From up ahead Nathaniel heard a white owl call. Twilight on Christmas Eve, and time to be home.
Given the losses that both the Middleton and Bonner families had suffered in the past few months, it was only seemly that they keep a quiet Christmas. This was how her father had announced to Elizabeth that he and Kitty were accepting an invitation to spend the holidays with Mr. Bennett and his wife in Johnstown. Curiosity and Galileo were to go with them, because Kitty wished it so. Mr. Witherspoon would go too and would not be missed, he assured Elizabeth: it seemed that Christmas was the very worst time to try to preach Christ in Paradise.
