Love and Cherish

by Dorothy Garlock

  “Do you remember when your father caught you and me and Slater swimming naked in the creek, Sloan?” Ada’s voice was light, and there was such a spiteful gleam in her eyes as she looked at Cherish. Cherish was amazed that Sloan didn’t see it. She almost hated him when he laughed.

  “Yes, and I remember the feel of the willow switch on my bare backside.”

  Cherish’s stomach churned. Ada was working to re-establish the relationship she and Sloan had had as children. Chaining him to the past would make it more difficult for him to cast her off in the future.

  Ada’s trilling laughter filled the room. “Just the other day I was thinking about the first time Mama let me wear a lace chemise. It was so pretty and didn’t hide much. The first chance I got, I put on my wrapper and ran to find you and Slater so I could show you. You made me think you didn’t want to look, but you and Slater each got an eyeful. Was it you who wanted to touch my breasts or was it Slater?”

  Sitting by the table, knitting furiously, Cherish wished fervently the evening would end.

  Finally, Ada stood, stretching her arms up over her head, moving her body seductively. Going to Sloan, she trailed her fingers lightly along the side of his face.

  “This has been nice, Sloan, darlin’. It reminds me of the times you and I and Slater used to sit and talk. I’m looking forward to more evenings like this.” She twirled around as if she were dancing. “Goodnight.”

  The silence was deep when she left the room. Soon she was talking loudly, but kindly, to Katherine, making sure the two people in the other room would remain aware that they were not alone. Every now and then she would come to the doorway and call out something inconsequential to Sloan.

  Cherish put away her knitting, blew out the candle, and went to the bunk at the end of the room, the one she had occupied the night before. With her back to Sloan, she undressed and slipped into her nightclothes. Taking down her hair, she left it hanging in a cloud about her shoulders and got into the bed. She pulled the covers up to her chin and lay stiff with misery.

  Only the candle on the mantel was left burning. Sloan got up and pinched out the flame. Cherish held her breath, although she knew he wouldn’t come to her until all activity in the adjoining room ceased, if he came at all. He sat back down, stretched out his long legs and leaned his head against the back of the chair.

  Anger at Ada for her scheming beat through Cherish. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. She lay dry-eyed, staring into the orange flame of the fire across the room.

  Later, as she lay in the void between sleep and wakefulness, he came to her. She felt his hand on her breast.

  “No, Sloan,” she said firmly. His hand went rigid and dropped away from her. He eased himself off the bunk, and she heard his bare feet padding across the floor and the squeak of the ropes as he lowered his weight onto the other bunk.

  Only then did she realize what she had done. She had allowed Ada to drive a wedge of suspicion into her mind, so that she had failed to use the only weapons she had: her love for him and the comfort he received from her body. She had not only hurt him, but herself. She moaned softly in despair, longing to call him back to her, but she dared not, afraid he would reject her.

  She wept at last.

  CHAPTER

  * 20 *

  Sloan behaved as usual the next morning. As Cherish prepared breakfast, he talked easily about John Spotted Elk and the Shawnee who had moved into the lodge.

  “They may be here a month and they may stay until spring,” he said in answer to Cherish’s question. “I’m glad they’re here. There’s a lot of unrest among the tribes this winter, and the river renegades seem to be getting bolder.”

  “I was surprised to hear John speak such good English.”

  Sloan smiled. “His French is just as good as his English, and a lot better than mine, although my mother was French also. John’s mother was well educated and she persuaded the chief to send John to school in Pennsylvania, besides teaching him herself.”

  “How did she happen to marry John’s father?” Cherish asked.

  “I don’t know how old Chief Running Elk came to marry her. I’m guessing that she was a captive and he bought her from another chief, but I’m not sure. They were probably married according to Indian custom. From what John tells me she was content with her lot.”

  “I think it would be hard to adjust to a whole new set of rules and customs.”

  “Maybe she adjusted out of necessity. Sometimes whites are not kind to a woman after she has been captured and lived for a while with the Indians.”

  “I’ve heard that,” Cherish murmured, then asked: “How did you and John become such good friends?”

  Sloan grinned. “It took a while. He was on the council that made the decision to let me have this land. In fact, he helped persuade them to agree to it. He believed that I could be trusted not to open up the land to a rush of settlers who would force his people farther west, away from their hunting grounds.” He carried the heavy teakettle from the fireplace to the table and poured the hot water in the crockery pitcher to make the tea. “That was four years ago. We’ve hunted together, fought together, and one time almost died together when we were captured by the Hurons. We learned to like and respect each other.”

  “Well, I’d think so . . . after all that.”

  Ada came in. Katherine scurried along behind her. Ada was wearing a light, revealing wrapper over a nightdress that showed the upper part of her breasts. Her blond hair hung loose about her neck and shoulders. She looked seductive, which was her intention.

  “Mornin’, Sloan.”

  “Mornin’.”

  She smiled prettily. “How’s my darlin’ baby this mornin’?” She held her arms out to Orah Delle, and when the child cringed, she sighed dramatically. “It just breaks my heart . . . that my baby doesn’t know me.” She sat down at the table. “Get my tea, Katherine. Oh, my, what I wouldn’t give for some grits like Mammy Vinnie used to make. I heard that she died. That . . . Frenchman told me. Poor Vinnie, she hated it here anyway.”

  Sloan ate his meal without speaking. Cherish fed Orah Delle. Katherine served Ada and then stood behind her chair. When Sloan finished, he put on his coat.

  “Sloan—” Ada rose quickly from the table and went to him. She circled his arm with her two hands. “It’s so crowded here. Why don’t you open up the other cabin and let the nursemaid take care of the baby over there. It’s going to be a long winter—”

  Cherish felt her heart thump painfully while she waited for Sloan’s answer.

  He looked down at Ada for a long time, then loosened his arm from her grasp.

  “Cherish and Orah Delle stay right here in this cabin, Ada. If you want quiet you go over there, but Orah Delle stays here. Do I make myself clear?”

  Ada sighed prettily. “Darlin’, you always were so stubborn. I was afraid you’d say that. Well, where are you going now?”

  “I’m going to see about Pierre.”

  “Hurry back . . . will you?”

  As soon as Sloan was out the door, all pretense was over. Ada turned on Katherine.

  “Come fix my hair, you lazy slut. That is, if you can get your mind off that damned Frenchman. I wish to hell they’d killed the interfering bastard.”

  Cherish turned her head and closed her eyes until the two women left the room. Ada’s behavior continued to shock her, yet she marveled at the woman’s ability to switch from one personality to the other so quickly. The gall of that woman to suggest that she and Orah Delle move to the other cabin!

  Ada was determined to have Sloan. Would he be able to hold out against her? And if he tried to send her away, would she take Orah Delle?

  To keep occupied, Cherish got out the butter churn, made a quick trip to the cellar, poured the accumulated cream into the churn, and began to work the dasher. She kept Orah Delle entertained by singing little tunes to the rhythm of the up-and-down motion.

  Sloan came in with a fresh bucket of milk t
o be strained. He set it on the bench and left again with the two water buckets. He returned with the water, went out again and came back with an armload of wood. Each time he lingered a few minutes, as if he wanted to say something to her. Ada was in and out of the room on the pretext of picking up something or returning something, and he remained silent.

  Later, with Orah Delle playing happily on the floor and Ada and Katherine in the bedroom, Cherish stood before the window and brushed her hair. Looking out toward the Shawnee lodge, she saw a girl come out and stand waiting at the corner of the building. She was young and dressed entirely in buckskin. Her hair was raven-black and parted in the middle. Two long braids entwined with brightly colored ribbon hung down over her breasts. Cherish knew instinctively that the girl was Minnie Dove, John Spotted Elk’s sister.

  Cherish was about to move away from the window when she saw Sloan coming from the other side of the lodge. The girl moved around so that he had to pass within a few feet of where she stood and waited. She must have called out to him, for he stopped and waited for her to catch up. They talked, and Cherish saw her tug pleadingly at his sleeve. Finally Sloan allowed her to lead him to the back of the building, but still where Cherish could see them. Once there, the girl threw her arms around Sloan in what looked like a passionate embrace.

  Shaken, her heart aching, Cherish could not make herself turn away.

  Sloan tried to free himself from the girl’s embrace. When he finally succeeded and held her away from him, she appeared to be pleading with him. She broke away, angry now, and tried to hit him. He pushed her aside, and she ran to the front of the lodge and disappeared.

  Cherish didn’t know what to think about the scene she had just witnessed. Had Sloan encouraged the Indian girl, played with her affection, then cast her aside? It didn’t seem likely a girl would declare her love so openly without some sign that her affection was returned.

  Later, with Orah Delle tied in her chair and playing happily with her wooden toys, Cherish put on Sloan’s old coat and stepped outside to get an armload of kindling. She came face to face with John Spotted Elk. Startled, unsure what to say, she smiled.

  He was a tall, handsome man. She felt dwarfed beside him. He wore a buckskin shirt with the tail outside and belted at the waist. Fringed leather pants and knee-high moccasins encased his legs. Two thick braids hung over his shoulders to his chest. His deep-set, licorice-black eyes looked intently into hers. He stood silently, seemingly unaware of the cold.

  “Had I found you first, you would be my woman.” He reached out a hand and lightly touched her hair. “Morning Sun. Morning Sun.” He repeated her name softly. “You are very beautiful.”

  Cherish stood still, her eyes locked with his. She was not in the least afraid.

  “You, too, are beautiful, John Spotted Elk.”

  “We would have made beautiful children.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “I’ve not seen a red-headed Indian.”

  He smiled. “It would be a sight to see, would it not?” His smile faded. “You are Light Eyes’ woman. If ever he is not there to protect you, I will be.”

  “I am most grateful that you take responsibility for your friend’s woman.”

  “Walk with care, Morning Sun. The woman within your lodge is a serpent.” He turned and walked away.

  She watched him until he entered the lodge, then went back into the cabin, wondering at his words.

  * * *

  The noon meal was on the table and the tea poured when Sloan came in. Like magic, Ada appeared and, as usual, monopolized the conversation. Cherish had so much to think about that it was a relief not to have to converse with them. The scene was a repeat of last evening’s meal, and she longed for it to be over.

  Sloan tried to catch her eyes as he put his coat on to leave again, but she avoided him. She heard him tell Ada that he’d not be back until suppertime. Cherish knew that would be well after dark.

  Ada and Katherine returned to the bedroom, leaving Cherish with the washing up and other tasks. When they were finished she sat in the rocking chair with Orah Delle. She was determined to get out of the house this afternoon, if only for an hour. While rocking she planned. She would put the child to sleep in her own bunk in the main room with a chair to guard the side to keep her from falling. She would ask Katherine to watch her. Not even Ada could object to that.

  She rocked the baby until she was sleeping soundly, then settled her in the bunk. Gently she brushed the dark curls from the chubby cheeks and tucked the covers around her. Feeling better now that she had a chance to get out for a while, she slipped her feet into her moccasins and tied them securely about her ankles. Wrapping her shawl over her head and about her shoulders, she took the blanket she had worn on the trail from the foot of her bunk and draped it over her head, then walked with determination to the bedroom door.

  Ada was lying on her bunk. Katherine was sewing by the fire.

  “I’m going out for a while, Katherine. The baby is asleep. Will you keep an eye on her, please?” Not waiting for an answer, or for Ada to object, she walked quickly to the door and let herself out into the crisp, cold air.

  One of the places she wanted to go was to the barn. It was a joy to see the milch cow. She was so big, gentle and warm. But first she wanted to visit Pierre. She hoped that Sloan would not be there. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to respond when they met at last out from under Ada’s watchful eyes.

  It was wonderful to be out in the fresh air. There was a little wind and it stirred the snow restlessly. She looked around for Brown. Usually the dog came running when he saw her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  At the door of the new cabin, she rapped, and she heard True yell:

  “Come on in. Figured hit was ya a knockin’,” he said as soon as she opened the door.

  “How is Pierre?”

  “Must be doin’ a’right. He been complainin’ ’bout thin’s. Sleepin’ now.”

  “This is the first chance I’ve had to come see him—” Cherish’s voice trailed. She stood just inside the door. “I just thought I’d run over.”

  “Ya holdin’ up a’right?” True’s long face took on a worried look.

  “I’m doing my best,” Cherish laughed nervously.

  “Hit’s a pity she come is what it is. Her ain’t worth one hair on yore purty head, to my way of thinkin’.”

  “Well, thank you, True. Guess I’d better go. I’ve missed you and Juicy.” Feeling her eyes begin to tear, she opened the door and hurried out. She stood for a moment and then slowly walked toward the barn.

  The snow was soft, easy to walk in, and didn’t come up to the top of her moccasins. She was glad the barn was to the rear of the cabin, for she wouldn’t be so likely to be seen. A meeting with Sloan was the last thing in the world she wanted at the moment.

  She reached the barn and opened the heavy door just a crack and slipped inside. It was larger than it appeared from the outside and was divided in sections. One part was for the cow, which eyed her dreamily while chewing its cud, and there were three stalls for the horses Sloan hoped to bring out from Virginia someday. Loose hay was piled around the sides of the barn for warmth.

  Cherish went into the corner to lean against the animal’s side and pat her bony back. She heard a rustling in the hay and thought perhaps there might be a barn cat. But as she walked out of the cow’s stall to investigate, she gasped in surprise.

  Standing between her and the door were two men. She thought immediately of the trappers, Mote and Seth, who had hounded her along the Kentucky River. She could tell at a glance that these men were the same type, and that they were here to do her harm. Before she could make a sound, a rough hand was clapped over her mouth. She struggled with all her might, but, hampered by the blanket she wore, she offered little resistance.

  “This ain’t the gal,” one of the men said.

  “This’n purtier.”

  “What we gonna do?”

  “We come to get a gal, and this�
�n’ll do jist fine.”

  Cherish was more frightened than she had ever been in her life. How could this be happening so quickly and so close to the cabin?

  Sloan! Sloan! Please come!

  Almost out of her mind with fear, she struggled. The man holding her swung her roughly about. His hand left her mouth, but the instant it did, the other man filled it with a dirty rag. Cherish gagged as the rag was tied tightly in place.

  Now that she was silenced, the men looked her over closely. One lifted the blanket and ran his hand down over her breast. She struck out at him and he grinned. It was an evil thing to see. Both men were fairly young, their faces scarred from many fights and their eyes bloodshot and watery from either drink or lack of sleep. They wore the clothing of river men: heavy woolen coats with knit caps on their heads. Cherish suddenly realized that they must be the renegades who had followed Mister Swanson’s boat; the men Ada had teased, the men who had shot Pierre.

  “We got what we come fer. Let’s go. I took to the river to git outta barns, and here I be stayin’ in one most of two days and a night jist to get a gal.” The man who spoke had two front teeth missing. He spit through the gap. “Iffn them Injin bastards found ol’ Finger and the boat, we’re gonna be sittin’ in shit up to our necks.”

  “’Aven’t you got no con-fee-dence, ’Arry?” The other man had a Cockney accent that betrayed the fact that he was British. “The bloody boat ’n’ Finger’ll be there.”

  “If he ain’t, I’m a makin’ ’im a new asshole.”

  “And if he is, ’Arry, I be gettin’ the wench first.”

  “Open up the winder back thar. I’ll tie up the gal’s hands.”

  Cherish’s heart quaked with fear. She hadn’t realized there was a way to get out of the back of the barn. Her fear gave her strength and she began to struggle anew. Finally the man with the missing teeth put his hands over her nostrils and cut off her air. She slumped long enough for him to bind her hands under the blanket.

  “She’s a fine-bodied wench,” the Cockney said. “Spirited too . . . I likes ’em fightin’. I’ll go up and over. You boost ’er through.”