Love and Cherish

by Dorothy Garlock

  “Please—you don’t understand.” The big brown eyes were actually pleading. “It will make it much easier if you just let me call you ma’am.”

  Cherish hesitated for a moment. “Well,” she said reluctantly, “if it means so much to you. But what shall I call you?”

  The girl looked relieved. “My name is Katherine.” Her eyes were down as if she were studying something on the floor.

  “That’s a beautiful name, and it suits you.” Cherish glanced over at the woman in the bunk. “Mistress Carroll has been sleeping for a long time.”

  “She didn’t sleep much at all last night. She walked up and down on the boat and worked herself into a tantrum and . . . and she’s tired.” Katherine’s face went blank and she turned away. Cherish didn’t have the heart to ask her anything more.

  With two pairs of hands working, the dinner was ready faster than Cherish expected. She went to the cellar and brought up berry jam, pickled duck eggs, and pickled fish. Katherine cut the pies and sliced the bread.

  The feast was being set on the table when the men came in. They went immediately to the bunk to inquire about Pierre and then to the wash bench. After washing they slicked their hair down with the comb and stood waiting for Cherish to call them to the table. The boy eyed the heavily laden table with disbelief.

  “Farrway, you and your grandfather sit on this side. True and Juicy will sit on the other. Katherine, sit beside Juicy.”

  Katherine moved away from the table to take Sloan’s place beside Pierre. Cherish gently took her arm and steered her to a place at the table.

  “He’s sleeping. You have time to eat,” she said kindly but firmly.

  “No, ma’am. I’ll eat later.” Katherine was equally insistent; her eyes had that pleading look again.

  “Sit, gal.” Juicy’s rough voice boomed in her ear and made her jump. “When the lit’l ’un makes up her mind, thar ain’t no sense buckin’ ’er.”

  Katherine unwillingly sat down. After Cherish was seated the men took their places.

  Sloan went to the bedroom for Orah Delle. He put her into the chair with the high legs, and Cherish tied her there with a rectangle of cloth and sat down again beside her. The child leaned as close to Cherish as she could get and tried to hide her face with her small hands, peeking between her fingers at the strangers at the table.

  “Mama—”

  “Don’t be shy, lovey. Mama’s right here beside you.”

  True brought the turkey to the table and placed it in front of Sloan to carve.

  “Sloan, will you say the prayer, or would you rather I did?” Cherish asked.

  Across the table of food she had prepared for his guests, their eyes caught. Sloan had a faint smile on his lips and pride in his eyes.

  “You do it, sweetheart. This is your first Thanksgiving in your new home.”

  A joyous warmth spread through Cherish. He had announced to all that she was his sweetheart and this was her home. First Thanksgiving. He meant for her to stay here forever. With Orah Delle’s hand clasped tightly in hers, she bowed her head.

  “Dear God, we thank Thee for Thy goodness and for this bounty spread before us. We thank Thee for good health and loyal friends. We thank Thee for this warm cabin and for Thy protection against our enemies. We pray that Thou will extend Thy mercy to our friend, Pierre. Ease his pain and make him whole again. We ask this in Thy name. Amen.”

  Cherish looked up and met Sloan’s eyes again and found something new. She took a trembling breath for she was sure that what she saw there was abiding love. Her lips curved in a smile, giving her heart away. Love welled up and she had to look away to keep from making a complete fool of herself.

  “I never know which end of this thing to start on,” Sloan said, with the knife poised over the golden-brown bird. “You’re much better at this than I am, True. Why don’t you do it?”

  “Ya’ll do real good. Jist tie inta it,” True said. “Hit smells purty. Let’s see iffn it tastes purty too.”

  All eyes were turned expectantly toward Sloan when a sweet, lilting voice called out:

  “My baby! Where’s my baby? Where’s my darlin’, darlin’ little girl? Bring her to me, Sloan! I’ve waited so long to hold her.”

  Ada Carroll was sitting on the edge of the bunk, holding her hands out beseechingly.

  CHAPTER

  * 17 *

  A silence fell over the room—a particularly tense silence. Someone took a deep breath, but no one at the table moved or spoke. Cherish’s eyes sought Sloan’s. He held her gaze for several seconds, then carefully placed the carving knife and serving fork back on the platter beside the turkey. Slowly and tiredly, he got to his feet.

  Ada stood beside the bunk. She had thrown off the cloak. Her dress was wrinkled, her blond hair mussed, her face tear-stained; yet she was the most beautiful woman Cherish had ever seen. Her wide blue eyes clung to Sloan as if he were the only one in the room.

  “Sloan, darlin’, I’m home! I’ve come back to you and my baby.”

  There was another silence as she moved toward him. With an odd little cry, she stretched out her hands and stroked his arms up and down.

  “I’m sorry,” she said meekly. “I tried to get back when I heard about . . . Slater. I shouldn’t have married him, Sloan, when it was . . . you. It’s always been you. But that’s all behind me now. I’m back. And I do so want to hold my darlin’ little girl.”

  She stepped quickly around Sloan and before he could move to stop her, her face radiant with a beaming smile, she swooped down on Orah Delle, who was sitting perfectly still for once, her spoon clutched in her chubby little hand. When the strange face appeared before her, blocking her view of Cherish, the child stiffened and then screamed in terror. Ada, disregarding the frantic movements of the tiny arms trying to push her away, continued to hug and kiss her.

  Sloan was beside Ada in two strides. His big brown hands grasped her shoulders and yanked her away from the child. Cherish quickly untied the cloth holding Orah Delle to the chair and took her in her arms, snuggling the small body to her, crooning comforting words.

  “The child doesn’t know you, Ada. And she’s frightened,” Sloan said harshly. “She isn’t used to seeing so many strangers all at once.” He added in a more restrained tone, “Let’s have dinner. We can talk about it later.”

  “She doesn’t know me? Oh, Sloan! What have I done? My own precious little darlin’ doesn’t know her own mama!” Ada hid her face in her hands, the picture of utter dejection.

  Over Orah Delle’s head, Cherish watched the scene. What had started out to be a joyous occasion had turned into a nightmare. The men at the table had not moved a muscle since the woman had uttered her first word. Now one of them let out a breath and Cherish thought she heard him mutter, “Jesus!” She suspected it had come from Mister Swanson.

  Cherish had forgotten about Katherine sitting beside Juicy, until Ada looked at her. The beautiful face hardened and the blue eyes went round with horror as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  “Kat!” The voice was no longer soft and appealing. “What are you doing sitting at the table with Mister Carroll and his guests. You know better than that. Why didn’t you inform him of your status? How dare you fail to tell him that you are my bound girl!”

  Cherish’s mouth dropped. She was overwhelmed with pity for Katherine, as was everyone at the table. In all her life she had never seen anything so blatantly cruel.

  “I was aware of exactly who she was, Ada,” Sloan said icily. “She is still welcome at my table.”

  Ada’s hard eyes stayed on Katherine’s face though she spoke to Sloan.

  “You don’t mean that. You don’t know anything about this girl.” Her eyes swung to him, lingered momentarily, then back to Katherine. “Leave the table, Kat.”

  Cherish’s pity for Katherine gave way to hot, blinding anger. She got to her feet in a rush, Orah Delle still in her arms, and faced the woman over the heads of the men seated at the ta
ble in stunned silence. But before she could open her mouth to tell Ada what she thought of her, Sloan spoke quickly.

  “I repeat, Ada, we were well aware that the girl was your servant.” He moved a chair out from the table. “Come, let’s have our dinner.”

  “I do not eat with thieves!”

  “Oh, no!” Katherine’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was heard around the table.

  “Ada, for God’s sake, let it go and sit down!” Sloan’s temper was rising and he gritted out the words.

  Ada ignored him and turned accusing eyes to Katherine, who sat looking down at her plate, her hands clutched tightly in her lap.

  “Six years ago Kat was tried and convicted of stealing. Uncle Robert bought her services for seven years. Deny it, Kat! Deny that you are a convicted thief!”

  Katherine looked up as all the heads at the table turned in her direction. Her chin quivered, but she raised it bravely.

  “What Mistress Carroll says is true. I was accused by my stepfather of stealing money from his tavern. I . . . we . . . needed the money to buy a warm coat for my mother. We had only been in the country a short while, and she wasn’t . . . wasn’t well.”

  Ada smiled cruelly. “A thief is a thief. Leave the table. Now!”

  “No! Katherine does not leave this table.” Cherish could contain herself no longer. “She is our guest—as you are.”

  Ada looked directly at Cherish for the first time. Her mouth twitched slightly and her perfectly arched brows lifted as her eyes ran up and down Cherish’s body.

  “Tut, tut, Sloan. You should know better than to let servants become too familiar. Your nursemaid takes much upon herself.” There was a twinge of contempt in her voice.

  Cherish’s anger blazed anew. Her cheeks were red and her eyes sparkled with inner rage. She had never felt more like attacking someone in all her life. Her fingers itched to scratch this woman’s eyes out.

  “This is my home! I have cooked this dinner and the people at this table are my guests as well as Sloan’s. I will not stand for your outrageous behavior a minute longer.” She was breathless when she finished, and too angry to see the fleeting smiles of approval that appeared and disappeared on the faces of the men at the table.

  Ada’s expression never changed. She gave Cherish a contemptuous glance and turned to Sloan.

  “As I said, your nursemaid takes much upon herself. I’m surprised at you, Sloan. Her home. Her guest. Oh, dear, I fear I’ve been away far too long. But it’s not too late to change things. It will all get straightened out later, but back to Kat. We’ll let her decide if it’s proper for her to sit at the table and eat with decent folk, shall we? You know you shouldn’t be there, don’t you, Kat?”

  The girl’s face was drained of color, her eyes vacant pools. She looked down at her hands. “Yes.”

  “Look at me when you speak to me. Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Mistress Carroll.”

  “All right, get up. You know your place—or you should by now. I don’t know what’s come over you, Kat. Really I don’t. You’ve let that Frenchman go to your head.”

  Katherine got up from the table, her hands trembling so that she almost knocked her plate to the floor. Head bowed, she went to the far end of the room.

  Giving Cherish a triumphant look, Ada went to the chair Sloan had pulled out for her and sat down.

  Dumbfounded, her heart aching for Katherine, Cherish stood holding Orah Delle. The girl’s humiliation was the saddest thing she had ever had to witness.

  True unfolded his long lanky frame and stood. “Scuse me, little purty,” he said to Cherish, his long face set in disapproving lines. “I’d ruther wait.”

  “An’ me.” Juicy’s voice boomed out. The table jiggled as he pushed away from it.

  “Me and Farrway would be pleased to wait and get the meal with the other gentlemen and the little lady.” Mister Swanson and the boy got up and left the table.

  Cherish stood silent. When she dared to look at Sloan, she saw that his jaws were clenched and a muscle jerked in his cheek. When his hands reached for the carving knife, she sat down, holding Orah Delle on her lap. She would not have been surprised if Ada had asked her to leave the table and made up her mind that if she did, she would hit her in the face with a pickled fish.

  Ada didn’t seem to be at all abashed at what she had done. She pushed her blond hair back from her face and smiled at Sloan.

  “Now this is the way it should be. You and I . . . and our darlin’ baby.” She completely ignored Cherish’s presence and didn’t seem to notice that Sloan paused in his carving. “I do so love the white meat, Sloan. Remember the turkey shoots we had back home?”

  Sloan didn’t answer and Ada chatted on. “I’m going to rest and get acquainted with my baby. She’s going to love her mama. I know now I was too anxious and scared her, but I have been through so much. You’ll never know how much I’ve had to endure and how I regretted having to go back to see Uncle Robert before he died. But he didn’t die, Sloan. That’s the sad part. I got stuck there. He wouldn’t let me come back. Oh, how I grieved when I heard my darlin’ Slater was gone.”

  Watching Sloan’s hands, Cherish saw him grip the carving knife until his knuckles were white. He made a vicious jab at the meat with the fork and continued to carve.

  Heartsick, her stomach in such an uproar she was sure it would reject any food she tried to put into it, she prepared Orah Delle’s plate and handed the child her spoon.

  “I’m going to call my baby Lillian. Orah Delle sounds like the name of some backwoods child. Don’t you think it would be fitting to call her Lillian, Sloan? Lillian, after my mother. She so wanted me to marry you instead of Slater. But she would be pleased to know she had a grandchild sired by a Carroll.” Ada beamed at the child, ignoring the fact that she was sitting on Cherish’s lap. “Lillian looks more like you than like Slater. She could be . . . yours, Sloan.”

  Cherish didn’t miss the little hesitation and glanced quickly at Sloan. He slammed the knife to the table so hard the plates bounced, and Orah Delle whimpered in alarm.

  “Her name is Orah Delle, Ada. Orah Delle. Slater named her after our grandmother. Her name will remain Orah Delle.” His eyes were cold, his face tight with fury. He was struggling to control himself, and the quiet that came over him made him more dangerous than if he were shouting.

  Ada’s eyes opened wide. She looked surprised.

  “Orah Delle? Well, I never gave it a thought that you would want to name her that, but if that’s what you want, Sloan, I guess I’ll just have to—”

  “Slater, Ada. Slater!” Sloan’s voice was deadly quiet. “It’s what Slater wanted. He named his child Orah Delle.”

  “Yes, of course. And you wish to abide by Slater’s wishes.” Ada spoke soothingly as if to a child.

  For Cherish, the meal was a nightmare. She never knew how she managed to get through it. She gave all her attention to Orah Delle, and the child ate happily with someone feeding her.

  Ada ate daintily, eating only the slice of turkey breast and the bread. She sniffed disdainfully at the pickled fish, the duck eggs and the Indian pudding. Katherine stood behind her chair and fetched tea when she raised her hand.

  Occasionally, Cherish would hear the men talking at the end of the room. True’s tangy voice reached her suddenly. He was trying to calm Pierre, who had awakened.

  “Yo’re gonna be all right, Pierre, iffn ya don’t git too rambunctious an’ break open the hole them varmints put in ya. Ya already bled like a stuck hog.”

  Sloan left the table without excusing himself. He went to the bunk where his friend lay.

  “The shot went into your side and out your back, Pierre. I don’t think it did any real damage, but you’ve lost a lot of blood and will have to lie still. You can’t afford to lose any more.”

  Pierre’s voice was weak when it came and he spoke in French. Sloan answered in the same language. He came to where Katherine stood behind Ada’s chair, took her hand
and pulled her to the bunk. Pierre lifted his hand up toward her, then it fell limply to the bed. He closed his eyes wearily and spoke to Sloan again in French.

  “It will be done, mon ami. Sleep now and don’t worry.”

  As soon as Sloan turned Katherine loose she rushed back to stand behind Ada. Sloan took Orah Delle from Cherish.

  Ada’s eyes glittered and her lips twitched in that odd way again.

  “Your friend is wasting his time,” she said softly, her voice purring, sensuous. “Uncle Robert gave Kat to me. I hold her bond for another year. If she doesn’t serve me well, I can have it renewed for another seven.”

  Holding the babe in his arms, Sloan looked down at her. When he spoke his voice was quiet, sad.

  “I don’t think I realized until now just how evil you are, Ada. I doubt that you’ve got a decent unselfish bone in your body.”

  Ada got up from the table, totally composed and smiling. She went to Sloan and brushed her fingertips lightly along his cheek and over his lips. It was a possessive, tender gesture that filled Cherish with dismay and rage.

  “Not evil, darlin’. Just practical. A woman alone must be practical.”

  * * *

  Ada sat in the fur-lined chair and gazed thoughtfully into the fire. Her expression was soft and wistful, and at that moment she was incredibly lovely. So lovely, it was hard to believe that this was the same woman who had mouthed such insults only a short while ago.

  Cherish took away the soiled plates and rearranged the table to make it as festive as possible. The men ate, but not as heartily as she had expected. Katherine ate hardly anything at all. Only the boy, Farrway, ate with relish, as if his young, growing body demanded it.

  When the meal was over, True and Juicy, the old man and the boy stayed only long enough to be polite, then prepared to go to the new cabin. While they lingered beside Pierre’s bunk, Cherish wrapped several loaves of bread, the pies, the Indian pudding and the remainder of the turkey in the tablecloth and loaded it into Juicy’s hands.

  “This will get you by tomorrow. I’ll make more bread in the morning.” She smiled. “It’ll take several days before True’s stew is fit to eat.”