Emma reddened still more. “I guess I should say thank you, Peter. I’m glad to meet you. River has told me so much about you.” She took his offered hand and he squeezed hers lightly.
“River? This is what you call him?”
“Yes.”
Peter laughed and released her hand. “It is nice. It makes him special to you. That is good. Names are very important. We all call him Joe. To you he is River.”
Emma looked at River Joe, who was grinning proudly. “The village is where I left it,” he said to Emma. “We are near it now. Peter was out hunting and scouting for raiders.” He looked at Peter. “There are no raiders nearby, Peter. We have come all the way from the Hiwassee, and no one has followed. There was a very bad flood down there—wiped out a lot of villages. For a while people will be too busy to think about hunting the Cherokee. They have enough on their hands just surviving.”
Peter nodded. “I would not wish such misfortune on anyone, but I cannot say I am not glad for the flood. Let us go to the village then. Mary and Grace will be so happy to see you! You have brought many supplies? We are very much in need of sugar.”
“I brought what I could—plenty of sugar, I think. But I got cheated this year. The one called Hank Toole would not give me a fair price for the skins I brought him. So I could not buy as much.” He sobered. “And I am afraid I am in some trouble, Peter. I will tell you about it later. If it brings trouble to the village, Emma and I will leave.”
Peter scowled. “What have the white settlers done, Joe?”
River Joe looked at Emma and sighed deeply, moving his eyes back to Peter. “Let’s go into the village first and get settled. My new wife is very tired. And she is nervous about meeting all of you. She has never been around the Cherokee before. She knows only the lies and half-truths she has been told by others.”
Peter took the reins of Emma’s horse. “Then she will soon learn the truth,” he said to his white brother. He looked back at Emma. “You will find we are not the monsters the white man says we are,” he said.
He walked off, leading her horse, and River Joe rode beside her. He reached out and squeezed her hand, then both of them ducked to avoid some low-hanging branches. River Joe let go of her hand when they broke through into a clearing where several small log houses sat in a row, with a few more scattered here and there. Men and women all seemed busy, either hoeing gardens, cleaning hides, chopping wood, or tending fires.
Emma’s heart pounded with excitement, as dogs ran up to them, barking at the hooves of the horses. Nearly everyone stopped what they were doing and walked or ran toward them, some shouting to River Joe in English, some in Cherokee. Most of them stared at Emma, and many seemed to be asking River Joe questions. Peter made some kind of announcement, and there were gasps and “ooohs” and stares, and some pounded River Joe’s horse or his leg as though congratulating him.
Emma was surprised at the neatness of the village. It was laid out much like the villages she knew, and everything was tidy. The people who surrounded her were clean and handsome, many of them dressed the way any white man would dress except that most of the men wore turbans. Most of them offered bright, welcoming smiles, and when she recognized that there was no animosity on their part, her fears vanished. She seemed to be a sudden celebrity, and it felt so good compared to her obscure, brutal life on the farm.
“Joe, you are back!”
A young girl ran toward him then, a shapely, beautiful girl who could be no older than Emma herself. Her long, dark hair hung neatly to her waist, and River dismounted when she came close. He swept her up in his arms and hugged her, and Emma felt a fierce jealousy at the thought of Yellow Sky, the Cherokee girl he had loved and who must have been as beautiful as the young girl she was watching now.
She reminded herself that River Joe would hate it if she showed jealousy. She had to be mature enough now to avoid such silly feelings. After all, she was River Joe’s wife, his chosen one. What was there to be jealous of? And her desire to be friends with these people whom River Joe loved overwhelmed any jealous feelings she might have.
Now River Joe was reaching up for her. She let him lift her down, and people gathered in a circle while River Joe kept one arm around the young Cherokee girl and the other around Emma.
“Emma, this is Mary, my sister. She is the same age as you are.” He looked at Mary and spoke to her in Cherokee. Emma watched as Mary’s brilliant smile faded slightly in curiosity, then returned.
“Wife! You are Joe’s wife!” Her eyes moved over Emma appreciatively. “It is no wonder Joe picked you. You must be the most beautiful white girl in the valley. Emma? That is your name?”
Emma nodded. “Yes.” She squeezed Mary’s hands. “I am so happy to meet you, Mary. River has told me so much about all of you, and he kept telling me I would be welcome here. But I was afraid, until now.”
“River?” Mary looked up at her brother, then back to Emma. “That is what you call him?”
Emma nodded. Mary breathed deeply and seemed to blinking back an urge to cry. “That is nice. You call him something different. That makes him special.” She swallowed. “And he is… very special.” She tossed her head. “Come!” She yanked at Emma then, running off with her. “We will be such good friends, Emma!”
Emma looked back at River Joe, who only smiled and shook his head. He took hold of both horses and followed, answering a barrage of questions from the others as Emma followed Mary breathlessly toward a tidy log cabin that had flowers growing all around it.
“The whole village will gather together to build a cabin just for you and Joe,” Mary said. “For now you must live with Grace and Red Wolf, as I do. Peter, he stays here only part of the time. Mostly he sleeps outside, and our father, Gray Bear, he shares a cabin with another old widow man.”
The girl charged though the door without knocking, and a pretty young woman looked up from kneading bread. “Grace, Joe is back!” Mary exclaimed. “And look what he has brought! A wife! And she is white!”
Grace just stared and blinked at first, then a look of surprise came over her face, followed by joy. “A wife!” Quickly, she wiped her hands on a towel and came around the table, a streak of flour showing at the temple against her black hair. “A wife!” she repeated. She looked Emma over. “Mary, look at her! Her hair is golden, and her skin…” The young woman put a dark finger to Emma’s face. “So fair!” She clasped her hands. “You are very beautiful, wife of River Joe. What are you called?”
“I am Emma.”
Grace smiled, and Emma was impressed by her warmth and beauty.
“My husband, Red Wolf, he is off hunting,” Grace said. “He will be back by nightfall.” She put her hands to her face and looked around the cabin. “Oh, I wish I had known you were coming! I am not prepared!”
“It’s all right, Grace. It’s so good just being here. I’ll help all I can. Please don’t fuss or anything. River and I… we can sleep outside. In fact, we’ve been doing it for a couple of weeks now. I don’t mind, really.”
Grace looked at Mary. “Did you hear? A white girl who is willing to sleep under the stars!” She looked back at Emma. “You must be very brave and strong, besides being so beautiful. Joe would not have chosen a white girl if he did not see many strengths in her. What a lucky man, to find one who is also so beautiful!”
Emma blushed, feeling almost uncomfortable under the constant compliments. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am!” Grace looked at Mary again and they both laughed lightly. “A white girl who calls me, a Cherokee, ma’am!” They both laughed again.
Emma felt her cheeks going crimson. “Did I… did I say something wrong?”
“Oh, no! But we are not used to hearing respectful words from a white person, except for Joe; but he is like a Cherokee, so he does not count,” Mary answered.
River Joe came inside then and Grace ran to him, throwing her arms around him. An older Indian man followed him inside, sta
nding straight and somber near the doorway and carefully scrutinizing Emma.
“Joe, I am with child! I am finally with child,” Grace was telling River Joe. “Red Wolf is so happy.”
“I am glad for you, Grace.” They exchanged more words in Cherokee then, and Emma gathered he was telling her about the poor trading this trip. She felt awkward, aware of the old man at the door who continued to stare at her without smiling. He was tall and very wrinkled, but carried a lingering handsomeness and a hardness about his body that hinted he had been very strong in his youth. Finally River Joe turned to the old man and took his arm, bringing him forward and saying something to him in Cherokee and nodding to Emma. Then he said Emma’s name.
“This is my Cherokee father, Gray Bear,” he said to Emma. “He speaks very little English.”
Suddenly the old man broke into a grin that soothed Emma’s pounding heart. He put his hands on her shoulders and spoke to her in Cherokee, then leaned forward and touched each cheek with his own.
“Gray Bear welcomes you,” River Joe said. “He says you are beloved because you are my chosen.” Joe sensed her acute nervousness and moved to her side, putting a supportive arm around her. Proudly he made an announcement in Cherokee, to which they all responded with apparent admiration in their voices, and Gray Bear stuck out his chest and patted her shoulder.
“I told them that you killed a wild boar with one shot from my musket,” River Joe said to Emma then.
Emma smiled, feeling better by the minute. River Joe asked that they all gather around one table for supper, so that he could tell them the whole story of how the Maker of Breath led him to Emma Simms and why he chose her for his wife. The little cabin seemed filled with excitement, and Mary grabbed Emma’s hand and dragged her back outside to introduce her to others and to tell each person about Emma’s killing a wild boar.
Never in her life had Emma Simms Rivers felt so welcome; nor had she ever felt so much love and attention. It was as though she had walked into a brand-new world, far from the ugliness she had known at the foot of the mountains. She had left a different Emma back there, an Emma full of fear and hopelessness, an Emma with no future. Here she had a whole new family, people who treated her as people should treat one another, and she had found gentleness in a man.
As Mary dragged her around, introducing her, all she could think about was the cabin Mary had said would be built for her and River, one she could fix up herself and keep tidy with no drunken Luke Simms to rant and rave and break things. A little cabin where she and River could be alone and make love whenever they felt like it, every morning and every night and maybe even in the middle of the day.
“Soon you will have a baby, yes?” Mary asked excitedly. “A child for Joe! He wants a child so much.” She stopped and looked Emma over as though she were trying to determine what it must be like to be River Joe’s woman. “You love him very, very much?”
Emma’s eyes teared. “I love him more than my own life, Mary. I had a real unhappy life. River is the first person who has ever truly loved me and been kind to me. I just hope… I hope nothing bad comes of it for him.”
Mary frowned. “Why should that be?”
“Just… I can’t say. I have to let River tell you. But I do love him so; I would die without him now, just die!”
Mary smiled more. “I am happy to see your eyes when you speak of him.”
“Mary! What are you doing?” Peter asked then, finding them together. “More people want to meet Emma! Come on!”
Mary pulled Emma away, and they were off again. Emma ignored the distant fear that always crept into her bones at the thought of becoming pregnant. River had mentioned it, and now Mary. Surely after all the times she and River had already mated, a baby would start growing in her belly. Would she die as her mother had?
Again she was surrounded by what seemed the entire village. She guessed the crowd to be perhaps a hundred or so people, and she wondered if there were more villages nearby. River had said they were scattered all over the Smokies. She was meeting people whose names she was sure she would never remember right away, when suddenly a strong arm came around her and pulled her away.
“Come on,” River Joe said in his soft, commanding voice. He led her to another cabin and they went inside. “This is my father’s cabin. He shares it with another old man. They are both outside. We can be alone for a minute.” He turned her, gripping her arms and looking down at her. “You are okay?”
She drew a deep breath. “I think so. They’re so… so full of questions and curiosity. I feel like a strange animal they’ve never seen before.”
River Joe grinned and pulled her close. “I know. But they already like you, Emma. I just figured you needed a minute to catch your breath, and I know you are tired. Grace is fixing up Mary’s bed in the loft and I want you to go up there and take a nap before we have supper. At supper you will really get to know the others, and I will tell them the rest—about Hank.”
He felt her seem to collapse against his chest then. “Oh, River, they might hate me for bringing you trouble.”
He petted her hair. “No, they won’t. You did not bring the trouble, Emma, Hank did. They will understand.”
“Hold me a minute, River. While we were alone, everything was so peaceful for us. All of a sudden we’re surrounded by people.”
“Things will quiet down once they have all met you and know the whole story. Soon they will have a cabin built for us and we can be alone again whenever we want to be.”
She looked up at him, reaching around his neck. “I hope it doesn’t take too long.”
He met her mouth in a lingering, sweet kiss, pulling her off her feet and holding her tight against him. “In the meantime we can camp in the woods at night like we have been doing,” he said in a near whisper, kissing her eyes. He kissed her once more, then released her so that her feet touched the floor again. “But for tonight I want you to sleep in a real bed in the loft. It has been a long, trying journey. I do not want my new wife getting sick.” His dark eyes saddened, and he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “I intend to keep this wife for many years. I will not let death take you from me, Emma Rivers, nor anything else.”
She smiled, turning her face to kiss the palm of his big hand. “I’m fine, River, really. I never felt so much love.” She met his eyes. “I think they really like me.”
“Of course they do. I knew they would. Just be patient with all their questions for the next couple of days. They did not expect River Joe to come back with a wife, a white woman, no less.”
He gave her a squeeze, then walked back outside with her amid teasing remarks from his Cherokee friends. Emma was amazed at their friendliness and at how most of them seemed to live very much like whites. River Joe led her back to Grace’s cabin and inside where Grace and Mary were busily discussing what they should have for supper.
“Joe, the bed is all ready for her,” Grace said.
“Oh, River, I should stay down here and help. I don’t need to rest, really.”
“You are my wife, and you will rest when I tell you to rest,” he answered. “Now you climb straight up that ladder and lie down for a while.”
“River, I’m too excited.”
“Go.” He led her to the loft ladder, and Grace and Mary grinned at each other as he ordered her up to the bed. Emma climbed up the ladder, and suddenly the bed looked very welcome. She pulled off her moccasins and lay down on it, her exhaustion and the strain of the past couple of weeks and all that had happened to her before that tumbling in upon her as she herself tumbled into a thick feather mattress.
Her last memory before sleep overcame her was hearing River Joe’s fading words about her suffering a bad head injury from which he feared she might not yet be fully recovered.
Head injury… Yes, she still got an occasional headache. It was Luke’s fault… maybe Hank’s. Both of them had hit her. For a moment she remembered the ugliness at their hands, but th
en River Joe was holding her. Nothing could happen to her now. Nothing. Nothing…
Emma blinked open her eyes to what she was sure was morning sun coming through a tiny window in the loft. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and she turned to see River sleeping beside her. She frowned, rubbing at her eyes, sure she remembered going to sleep before supper. Surely she hadn’t been sleeping ever since!
She pushed at River, whispering, “River, wake up.”
He stirred, then turned toward her. She realized he was naked, but she still had on her dress.
“River, what time do you think it is? Have they had supper yet?”
He just lay there a moment, slowly opening his eyes, then grinning sleepily and moving closer to put an arm around her and move a leg over her own legs. “It is probably time for breakfast,” he said softly.
“Breakfast!” She sat up. “River, you didn’t let me sleep straight through!”
“Of course I did. Every time I came up here to check on you, you were sleeping so soundly I did not have the heart to wake you.” He pulled her back down.
“Oh, but they’ll think I’m weak—”
He laughed lightly, moving then to kiss her. “They know better,” he said. “We all had a good talk over supper. They know what you have been through. You deserve a good rest.”
She met his eyes, putting a hand to his chest. “They know about Hank, then?”
The joy left his eyes. “They have to know, so they can keep watch.” He pushed some of her hair back from her face. “It is possible someone will come looking for us.” He saw the panic in her eyes. “I just want you to realize it, Emma, that’s all. It is just like I said before. It is possible no one is left who would even connect me to Hank’s death, or who knew you would be on that boat. But if they do happen to figure it out, the first place they would look is among the Cherokee. My people keep scouts moving around all the time. If anyone is coming, they will know it, and they will hide us and swear we never came here. We will be all right. We have some time to think about whether we want to stay here or try to go away.”
Tennessee Bride Page 20
