She stayed close to him until the rain stopped, then walked quietly and proudly by his side as he gritted his teeth against the pain and made his way back to camp.
Chapter Nine
Daniel figured that if he hadn’t lost a day somewhere, today was his birthday, but he sure couldn’t think of a damn thing to celebrate. He felt more like sixty than thirty-five. The cold November wind crept under the bearskin and chilled him to the marrow. He had slept on his bad side and the moment he awoke, the dull ache spread from his chest down to his legs and made him sick to his stomach. He thought about just lying in his bedroll till it got warmer. If he did get up there wouldn’t be a thing to do, except watch Mooney skin game, or maybe ride out and see how Stewart was coming.
Cursing himself soundly, he kicked the covers aside, stretched, and stood up. It was a full hour past dawn, but the earth and sky were the same shade of grey. The trees were nearly bare, etched black against the horizon. Blue Duck was heating venison and corncake over the fire. The smell of food made his mouth water, but he walked past her without stopping. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he took long strides over the ground to stretch his muscles. He walked down to the hollow and circled the thicket around camp.
Daniel didn’t like being slowed down. Though he could understand and tolerate weakness in others, he couldn’t allow it in himself. That wasn’t his way, and by damn he wouldn’t have it!
His fight with the Shawnees had drained him more than he cared to admit. The wound was healing, but traveling with it had stiffened him up badly. Trotting through two days of rain had only made it worse. He had been determined to shake the Indian and hadn’t stopped more than an hour all the way back to camp. Finally, when he rode in with Blue Duck clinging behind him, he had fallen right out of the saddle.
While the fever had him down, Stewart and Findley did all they could to help him get well. Blue Duck wouldn’t let them do much, but they would sit and talk and joke with him. Once he was on his feet, however, Daniel noticed a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the season. It was clear that neither of the two men approved of the girl. Findley, though he knew Indians well, didn’t much like them. Stewart was another matter. Daniel’s brother-in-law often spun a yarn or two about big-busted women in New Orleans, but that was all so much tongue waggin’. Daniel’s sister had her husband trained, and Stewart mirrored his wife’s disapproval. Daniel wasn’t bedding Blue Duck, and Stewart damn well knew it. Still, she was there—a desirable, sensual young woman.
Daniel figured there was more to Stewart’s problem than prudish disapproval. Maybe Stewart was too stiff-necked to admit it, but Boone had seen the way he looked at the young Indian girl. That was probably why he had stayed out so long—two days now—on this latest hunting trek.
The camp-keepers wouldn’t come near the girl. They remembered too keenly the Cherokee Wars, and what had happened on the Yadkin. It amused Daniel that Mooney and the others were so dead certain that Blue Duck would sneak up and scalp them in their sleep.
Stewart didn’t come in that day, or the one after. When four more days went by, Daniel grew concerned. None of them kept any regular hours, but staying away so long wasn’t like John. Boone was relieved when he finally saw his friend’s mare trot up the hollow with a loaded pack horse behind. He helped unload the hides, then sat by the fire while Stewart thawed out.
“It’s a good load,” said Daniel, “’specially for this time of year.”
Stewart nodded and blew on his hands. “Yeah, but you see how they’re getting, Dan’l. They’re not prime, not all of ’em. Looks like an early winter, an’ likely a hard one.”
“’Bout time to start beaver. In a month or so, anyway. We got some traps, and Squire’ll bring more.”
Stewart looked up at him. “We haven’t talked about that, Dan’l. Maybe we ought to. Squire said fall, and the season’s ’bout over.”
“Squire’ll be here,” Daniel replied sharply, “don’t you worry none about that.” He saw Stewart stiffen and shake his head. “All right,” admitted Daniel, “he’s late. Hell, I’m worried too.”
“I know you are. But it don’t mean somethin’s wrong, does it? Maybe the crop was late, or he had some fixin’ to do.”
Daniel didn’t answer. Squire knew they couldn’t start winter trapping until he got there with supplies. They were short on lead and powder. They could do without new traps, but they were risking their lives if they ran out of ammunition.
Stewart guessed his thoughts. “One of us could backtrack, if you want. Go on east a ways and take a look.…” He looked candidly at Boone. “Wouldn’t do a damn bit of good, would it?”
“No. Not much.”
“He’ll turn up,” Stewart said. “Hell, you know Squire.” Stewart smiled at the thought of his other brother-in-law marching into camp next week, late as usual.
Daniel turned and stared at the man with sudden, unreasoning anger.
“God A’mighty, Dan’l. What’d I do?”
Daniel looked away. “John, let’s just forget it.”
“No, goddamn it, let’s not. Sit down, Dan’l.”
Boone hesitated, then squatted on the log and looked squarely at Stewart. “All right. You want to hear it, I guess you will. You smiled at me, John. That’s all. An’ I damn near hit you for it. You want to know why?”
“I reckon I better.”
“Cause you haven’t turned a kindly face my way in ’bout three weeks, that’s why. You been treatin’ me like I come in collectin’ taxes, John. You want to end this fine—but don’t act like nothin’ ever happened.” Stewart let out a breath and looked at his feet. “Hell, Dan’l, I guess you got a right to get your dander up.”
“I sure feel like I do, John. You’re one o’ the best friends I got, but you’re steppin’ on me some.”
Stewart nodded. “You’re due an apology, an’ you got it.”
“I’m not beddin’ the girl. You oughta know that. An’ if I was, there’s nothin’ another man has to say about it. I’m full-growed, and you ain’t old enough to be my daddy.”
Stewart laughed. “Ain’t anyone old as you, Boone. ’Less it’s Findley.”
“You’re right as you can be. Today’s my goddamn birthday.”
Stewart brightened and let out a whoop. “Son of a bitch. Let’s see if we got a drop of that corn-squeeze somewhere!”
“Wait a minute.” Daniel held him back. “Suppose it was you that found the girl tied up naked by the Shawnees? Would you have left her there?”
“Huh-unh.” John shook his head firmly. “That’s guessin’ games. One man ain’t another, Dan’l. You want the truth, I don’t know if I’d’ve had the guts for it. I’ve thought about it some, but I’ve got no answer.”
“All right.” Daniel nodded. “That’s honest enough. An’ while we’re on the subject of apologies, you got mine for puttin’ the Shawnees on our ass.”
“Hell,” Stewart spat on the fire, “you already apologized for that ’bout two hundred times. I’m plain sick o’ hearin’ it.” He offered his hand and Daniel took it. “One thing, though,” Stewart added soberly. “If one of those bastards comes in an’ scalps me in my sleep, I ain’t ever goin’ to speak to you again, Dan’l, and that’s the truth!”
Blue Duck could not understand their words, but she knew by Wide Mouth’s anger with his friend that they were talking about her. She covered her ears against the sound of their voices and squeezed her arms tight against her breasts. Wide Mouth’s friend frightened her. Maybe he would make Boone send her away. She knew the friend didn’t like her, even though he craved her with his eyes.
Boone’s eyes were not like his friend’s, nor those of the other men in camp. Boone tried to hide-his hunger for her. He had done this even when he had first seen her naked by the stream. That he now fought so hard to keep her out of his blanket brought joy and sadness to her heart. Joy that he wanted her so badly, sorrow that he was waiting so long to take her.
Sometimes
, the ache in her body became more than she could bear. She longed to touch him. She often remembered when they had fled the Shawnee, and she had wrapped her arms tightly about him. Then there had been nothing he could do to stop her.
It would happen soon, she told herself. It was not right for a man to keep a woman about and not take pleasure from her. She had never known a man, but her mother and sisters had told her these things. Waiting too long could make a man like Wide Mouth hurt as much as she was now hurting.
She set her lips firmly together. If he did not decide soon, she would have to help him. Sometimes, she knew, it was up to a woman to do that. Two days later, Wide Mouth’s friend left to hunt for game. Blue Duck was overjoyed. Perhaps now was the proper time. White men were so peculiar, it was difficult to tell. Perhaps Wide Mouth would feel more comfortable now that his friend was gone again.
But on the day after the first friend left, the other one, the gray-beard, returned from his hunt. And on the day after that, Boone left with him. Blue Duck ran into the woods and buried her sobs against the frozen ground. At first she thought about tearing holes in her face with little sticks, but Boone clearly thought she was much too ugly to bed already. There was no sense making things worse.
Chapter Ten
At first, Rebecca dutifully carved a notch in her cutting board for every day Daniel was gone. It was a practice she always started after he left her, and one she always quickly abandoned. The days dragged slowly by whether you marked them or not, and she had better things to do. With six children under foot and another on the way, plus a whole farm to look after, there was plenty to keep her busy.
It hadn’t been that way in the beginning. Daniel hadn’t been gone a day when neighbors and friends started flocking in to help. Rebecca wasn’t to worry, they had all said, her husband was doing something important for every family on the Yadkin. They couldn’t all take off for Kentucky, but they could each and every one lend a hand back here.
And lend a hand they had, till they nearly drove Becky crazy with six men and a dozen women trying to do every job and people fighting over chores like milking, planting and cutting wood. They had nearly worn out the plowing horse and had tromped all over her garden trying to fence it in. There were more pies, cakes and sweetmeats on her table than Becky had seen in a month of Christmases. Of course the children found them all, stuffed themselves and got sick.
Rebecca had waited. After the first week, more than half her helpers had dropped off. A few staunch supporters had hung on through the second week, but by the third she had been left gratefully on her own again.
Poor dear Squire kept coming, doing the best he could to help her. Besides Daniel’s farm, he had his own to look after, and John Stewart’s. All that work kept him going in circles like a mouse in a barrel, till Becky was sure he was going to drop. Besides, it was plain as day that Squire was itching to have done with farming and follow after Daniel.
James tried hard to be a man, and Israel, two years younger, did his best to help James. Neither did as well as they wanted, but she was proud of them both.
But Rebecca was worried about James. Sometimes she would catch his eye and see in it the very image of his father—and always the worst qualities, never the best. When the boy lapsed into a dark, brooding silence, he was so like her husband that it frightened her.
Finally, as the months wore on, she realized James was doing his own brooding, not Daniel’s. Something had a hold of him, and wouldn’t let go. When she sat the boy down and asked him, he clammed up tight. Rebecca grew angry, and demanded an answer. He silently defied her, something he had never done before. Finally, she gave up and let him go. Whatever was bothering him would come out on its own—an untreated sore will always fester, she thought.
Summer passed more slowly than any she could remember. She kept as busy as she could, but nothing took her mind off Daniel. Was he alive or had he been taken and slaughtered by Indians? That was both the harshness and the kindness of long waiting. Your man could be long dead while you thought him still alive. By the end of October she was swollen with child. She turned over more and more of her chores to James, Israel and Susannah. On November second they celebrated both Daniel’s and Susannah’s birthdays. How was Daniel spending the day, she wondered? More than likely, he didn’t even remember the date. Counting time or the money in his pocket wasn’t Daniel’s favorite pastime.
‘Course, there was one time when he counted well enough, she recalled. When he came back from the Cherokee War he had found little Jemima in the crib and had known for certain she couldn’t be his. He had just stood there looking at the child for a long, long time.
“Who’s the father, Rebecca?” he asked her finally.
“Ed Boone,” she told him. “Your brother, Daniel.”
“I see,” he nodded, still not looking at her.
“I thought you were dead, Daniel. The other Yadkin men came home, but you didn’t. I’m not goin’ to put it on Ed, and neither are you. It’s my doin’ as much as his.”
Daniel bit his lip thoughtfully, then looked straight in her eyes. “Might put some of that blame on me, Becky. You’re a growed woman with needs, and I left you here alone.”
Then he picked up the child and held her. “She’s a fine-lookin’ girl, Rebecca. An’ she’s a Boone. I’ll settle for that.”
Daniel had never since reproached her, and he plainly loved Jemima as much as the others. He didn’t ask if there’d been other men before Ed or after. There had been. One. And only once with him. Not that she wasn’t tempted. Her urges didn’t stop when Daniel went wandering. If anything, they grew stronger as the months dragged by.
She wondered if Daniel had ever found a woman when he was gone. Likely he did, she had decided long ago. But not too many. Somehow, she was certain of that.
Rebecca had noticed something unusual down by the woods for a good month or so, but she had said nothing to James or the others. It was never much, just a shadow that shouldn’t be there, but it set her heart to racing. The business with Henry Flint had frightened her more than she would ever let on to Daniel or to anyone else. And this wasn’t the first time she had spotted someone lurking about the farm. It had happened once before, early in the summer, a month after Daniel had gone.
Squire was supposed to come by, but he didn’t. Becky decided he was down with the fever again. It had to be a real bad spell, or he would have left with the fresh supplies for Daniel long before now.
Well, Mrs. Boone, she told herself firmly, if something’s down there, you had better waddle your pretty self on out and see what it is. She thought about sending James, but a mother didn’t send her young out to look after her.
When darkness settled over the cabin, she slipped quietly out the back door and made her way past the barn into the hollow. Cradling the long rifle in her arms, she leaned against a tree and waited in the blackness.
At first there was nothing unusual—only the sounds and shadows of birds and small animals. Then suddenly, she saw it. Her heart leapt up and nearly choked her. A shadow seemed to peel off one tree and slide silently into the darkness of another.
Rebecca fought back her fear and the numbing cold. Holding her hands steady, she slowly raised the rifle. Then, barely breathing, she let the bead down to just where the tree met the dark.
“Missus Becky,” the voice said softly, “I sure do hope you don’t shoot me with that thing. I know you’re good enough to do it, and I ain’t comin’ ’way from this tree till you say so.”
Rebecca’s mouth dropped open. “Nat? Nat Gist, is that you out there?”
“Yes’m, it is.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, come on out here!”
“You sure?”
Becky laughed. “’Course I’m sure!”
Nathaniel Gist stepped out of the shadows and walked toward her. Rebecca set down her rifle and drew the shawl snug about her shoulders.
“You shouldn’t be out here in this cold, Becky.”
&nb
sp; “You are, Nat. You mind tellin’ me why?”
“I, ah—come out here sometimes and take a look around. Me and a couple of others.”
Rebecca tried to make out his features. “What for, Nat? Is there somethin’ I ought to know? Lord God, you’re not out here every night, are you?”
“No, Becky, we ain’t. Just times when we figure we ought to be.” He hesitated, set down his rifle and blew on his hands to warm them. “And there’s nothin’ special for you to worry ’bout, neither. If there was, I’d say so.”
“Nat,” Becky said firmly, “if there’s nothin’ special, you wouldn’t be standin’ out here in the cold. I’m a growed woman. Is it Flint? Or Billy Girt?”
Nat looked at her. “To be honest, I got no idea. Sometimes we hear ’bout things that maybe don’t mean nothin’. Like this summer, one of the boys thought Girt showed his face up north, only as it turned out, it wasn’t him.”
“And now?”
Nat looked down and studied his feet. “There was some Shawnee sign west of here, over by Sycamore Shoals. Probably nothin’. If there’s any around, they’re likely to be botherin’ the Cherokees, not us.”
Rebecca laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Nat,” she said softly. “It’s a great kindness, and I appreciate it. Won’t you come in for somethin’ hot to drink?”
“I’d better not,” her told her, “but I’m obliged. I’ll just wander ’round here some, then head back home. You ought to get in out of the cold, Becky.”
Rebecca made her way back to the cabin and huddled before the fire. The warmth came slowly back to her limbs. Finally, when she had sipped a cup of broth and quieted down her shakes, she went to her bed, lay down and buried her face in her hands. When the tears came, it was impossible to hold them back. They burst from her in a great wave that racked her body and left her helpless and limp all over.
Why, she hadn’t even known! Lord God A’mighty, they all loved Daniel as much as she did! In a different way, but it was love all the same, near as strong and fierce as her own.
Daniel Boone: Westward Trail Page 8
