Matthew laughed and shoved her lightly towards Elizabeth. “You take care of her, aye?”
“Not fair; she’s much worse than he is.” Still, she did as he bid her, adjusting her hat and clothes as she went.
As he’d expected, Peter wasn’t pleased, frowning for a long time at Matthew, who sat facing him in his office.
“But why? Jenny is a well brought up and handsome girl, is she not?”
“I already told you. Ian feels it would not be a happy match.”
“Hmph!” Peter downed his whisky and banged the tin cup back down on his desk. “What does he know? He’s not yet eighteen! Jenny would make him a dutiful and obedient wife.”
“Aye, I’m sure she would, but he isn’t of the same opinion.” Matthew sipped at his whisky. “I won’t force the lad.”
Peter pulled at his lip. “Jenny will take it badly.”
Matthew wasn’t quite as convinced. From what little Ian had told him, it seemed young Miss Leslie had developed a fancy for her father’s overseer, a German with very little English.
“Surely it can’t be difficult to find a husband for such a pleasant lass,” he said, receiving a black look in return.
“There aren’t that many eligible young men in the vicinity.”
Matthew pretended to think. “But what about Jochum?” he asked, working hard to look as if this was an inspired thought.
“Jochum?” Peter blinked. “He’s my overseer!”
“But unwed.” Matthew slapped his neighbour on the shoulder and exited the room. Some ideas were best left to germinate on their own.
“I understand you know Dominic Jones.” Peter caught up with Matthew halfway across the yard.
“Know him? I had the unfortunate experience of working for him ten years ago, but since then I haven’t seen him – until recently.” And if he had his wishes come true, he’d never see him again.
“He’s asking around about you.”
“He is?” Matthew came to a stop. “And what is it he wants to know?”
“Oh, you know, where you live, how long you’ve been here.” Peter threw him a perceptive look. “It doesn’t please you, this interest.”
“Nay, I can’t say it does.” It made him itch all over, his body hair rising in alarm.
“He’s rich; rich and powerful. You’d best tread carefully around him.”
“And he around me.” Matthew inflected his voice with menace. He mustered a smile, said something about having promised to dance with his wife, and walked off towards the sound of music coming from the barn.
*
“Was it a good party?” Magnus asked the next day.
“Party is not exactly the word I would use; more like a parade ground for the dutiful daughter-in-law.” Alex made a face. “Poor Celia seems totally terrified; of her husband, her new home and her mother-in-law, although not necessarily in that order. And Nathan spent most of the evening avoiding his happily pregnant wife.”
“Pregnant? Already?” Magnus said. “But they’ve only been married what? Two months?”
“Three actually, and as Fiona so helpfully informed us, it generally only takes once.”
Magnus frowned. “And it might come as a huge surprise to you that one can actually have unprotected sex and still avoid pregnancies.”
“Oh, you can? And you would know, having extensive experience of this?”
“Not as such,” he admitted grumpily.
“No, I didn’t think so. Speaking of which, where is our Fiona?”
“Out back.” Magnus waved his hand in the general direction of the privy. “She looked kind of nauseous if you ask me.” The implication of what he was saying struck him the moment he uttered the words. “Oh shit, she’s been looking ill for days.”
“Great. Wait until Matthew finds out.”
Matthew acted with such speed that Magnus realised he’d spent substantial time planning for this eventuality. In less than an hour, he had Fiona agreeing to do as he said, overseeing while Jonah and Fiona signed a marriage contract before assuring them he would make sure their union was registered when he was in Providence come next week.
Magnus stared as Fiona packed her few belongings and followed Jonah out to his room by the stables. Even worse, Fiona was pathetically grateful to Matthew for having sorted out her life, thanking him repeatedly for not throwing her out.
“Throw her out?” Magnus said. “Would he have done that?”
“No.” Alex smiled in the direction of her husband. “But she doesn’t know that.”
“And him? Why does he want to marry her?”
“Jonah? Oh, Jonah’s had his eye on Fiona for well over two years. And they’ve slept together, so the child could be his. Besides, unmarried women are quite the commodity here – and Jonah isn’t the most attractive of men.”
Rather the opposite in Magnus’ opinion – overlarge teeth in a small mouth, narrow shoulders, long arms and a mousy thatch of hair. But he had nice eyes and a beautiful voice, and according to Alex he was hardworking and diligent.
“And now what happens? They live happily ever after?”
Alex looked doubtful. “I’d say Fiona has very little capacity for happiness. But maybe she can learn to be content – at least once in a blue moon.” She stretched, bracing her back against her hands. “Matthew’s promised them a cabin of their own, and even a patch of land for a garden.”
Magnus didn’t reply. His eyes were glued to the unmistakable bulge of her belly. Without a word, he stormed out of the kitchen, making a beeline for Matthew, who was down by the half-finished barn.
“How many more children do you expect her to give you?” Magnus was so angry he had spittle flying in the air.
“I don’t think that’s your business.”
“She’s my daughter! And this is what, your seventh child?”
“She is first and foremost my wife, and it’s not as if I force myself upon her, is it? Not that that is your business either – what happens in the privacy of the bedchamber is between man and wife alone.”
“Privacy? The whole bloody house hears your goings-on.” Magnus was deeply satisfied by the dark flush that crept up Matthew’s cheeks.
“Oh, aye? Well then, we’d best move you to sleep elsewhere. I’ll have you installed in Fiona’s old room before nightfall.” With that Matthew stalked off.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Magnus called after him. To his surprise, Matthew lifted his hand in the air and gave him the finger.
“He’s right. It’s none of your business,” Alex told him once Magnus had cornered her in the kitchen garden. She looked the picture of health, her cheeks pink with exertion, her eyes clear and bright.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Alex, you can’t want another child!”
“I said it’s none of your business.” She went back to her digging.
“But you’ve just turned forty! You might be fertile for another ten years!”
“You think I don’t know that?” Alex sat back on her heels. She brushed at an escaped lock of hair, streaking her face with dirt. “There’s not much I can do about it, is there?”
“Safe sex, abstain, coitus interruptus, oral sex—”
“Oh, shut up!” Alex straightened up and threw her trowel to the ground. “For your information we do a lot of that, okay? But this child is a wanted child – all our children have been wanted children.” She left him where he was and strode over in the direction of where her husband was harnessing the mule.
Matthew saw her coming and turned in her direction.
“Kiss me,” she said once she was close enough.
“Here? Now?” Matthew wasn’t the most demonstrative of men in public.
“Now.”
He gave an embarrassed laugh and tilted his head in the direction of Magnus. “To show him?”
“No,” she said, making him smile at her lie. “Because I want you to.”
“Oh, do you?” He hooked one finger into her apron to pull her closer, brushed his lips across her brow, and placed a finger on her mouth. “I’ll kiss you later, but I won’t kiss you for the sake of an audience.”
“Stupid man,” she grumbled, leaning her head against his chest. “How many men your age have women coming on to them, and tell them no?”
He tenderly put his arms around her and rested his cheek against her uncovered hair. “Not many I imagine, but then I’m an uncommonly fortunate man.” Over her head, he met Magnus’ eyes and grinned.
*
Magnus was beginning to regret coming here. In his head, he’d pictured a happy reunion scene complete with a huge chocolate cake, champagne and a ‘Welcome Home Magnus’ banderol fluttering in the wind. He had dreamed of spending hours in deep discussions with Alex, recouping on all these lost years, and instead she was constantly rushing from one task to another, a harried expression appearing on her face when he suggested they sit and talk, take it easy for some hours.
And he hadn’t counted with the children...so many and a constant source of interruption whenever he managed to steal some moments alone with her. Their loud voices made his head ache, their lack of education made him long passionately for Isaac, and now there was another on its way, another source of distraction when he needed her to concentrate on him, goddamn it, because he was dying. He had brain cancer, for God’s sake!
He grimaced in disgust at the tender little scene by the stable door. Another aspect he hadn’t taken into consideration. Alex didn’t need him; all she needed was the tall man with dark hair who was presently holding her to his chest and challenging Magnus with his glinting eyes.
Magnus gouged a hole into the rich, dark earth with his cane. Yet another misconception – he’d imagined all this would be in Scotland, not in bloody humid Maryland, at a time when colonists were scrabbling for a foothold on a continent teeming with woods, dangerous creatures and Indians. He exhaled and limped in the general direction of the house, keeping his eyes on the ground to avoid his son-in-law’s gloating expression.
He came to an abrupt stop at the unfamiliar sight of several pairs of feet, all of them in soft leather moccasins. Bloody hell, real-life Indians!
Chapter 11
“I can’t do more,” Alex said to Qaachow, looking at the wounded man lying on her kitchen table. She’d stitched up the wound as well as she could and packed crushed yarrow and comfrey around it. “Now all we can do is hope it doesn’t become infected – again.”
She looked down at her hands. She’d never done anything like this before, and she’d fervently wished Mrs Parson had been here to help her as she’d heated the blade and sliced up the badly healed sword gash that ran all the way down the man’s right side. Fat chance of that; she hadn’t seen Mrs Parson for over ten years but assumed her to be hale and hearty down in Virginia. The man hadn’t uttered as much as a whimper while she used tweezers and knife to cut away dead tissue, releasing the putrid stench of rot and pus.
“I thank you,” Qaachow said. “Not many of your people would invite us into their homes – in particular, not under these circumstances.”
“You’re always welcome here,” Matthew replied with a stiff little bow. “You should consider spending the night,” he added, his offer of hospitality in stark contrast to his strained voice. Alex’s eyes drifted over to the Indians waiting outside. Too many of them sported gashes and wounds that indicated recent fighting, and for all they knew there might be a band of enraged Virginia Militia on their tails.
Qaachow smiled in acknowledgement of the offer but shook his head. “We have several days of walking before we reach our home and we have been gone a long time. Our wives will be waiting.” Qaachow said something to the man standing beside him, and together they helped their wounded comrade to stand.
“He shouldn’t walk,” Magnus cut in, jerking his head in the direction of the bandaged man. “The movement will open the wound.” He was still somewhat white around the mouth after watching Alex cut into the infected flesh.
“He can’t walk,” Alex said. “He’s burning with fever.”
“He must.” Qaachow bowed and stepped into the dusk.
“Oh Lord,” Alex said to Matthew once the Indians had dropped out of sight. “I hate feeling so useless.” She inspected her darning needle and decided it had to be boiled before she used it again. There were bloodstains on the floorboards and on the light wood of the new wall, and Magnus was already scrubbing the table. Alex poured boiled water into the basin and washed her hands, noting with dispassion that they were shaking – badly. She leaned her forehead against the thick glass of the small window and took a couple of steadying breaths.
“You did well.” Matthew beckoned for her to hold out her hands and poured more water over them, rinsing off the soap suds.
“Yes, you definitely looked as if you knew what you were doing.” Magnus transferred his cleaning efforts to the workbench.
“I should probably have been an actress. What do you think they’ve been up to?” Alex grabbed the basin, carried it the few feet to the open door and upended it to the side.
“I don’t know, but I suspect we’ll find out shortly.” Matthew beckoned the children over from where they had been standing in silence throughout the visit and hunched down before them, looking at their three youngest. “Not a word. You mustn’t tell anyone your mama helped the Indian.” Three heads nodded in acquiescence. “Good.” Matthew tweaked Sarah’s cheek and got back onto his feet. “The lads, Jonah and Fiona will be back shortly from the fields. I’ll tell the lads; Jonah and Fiona don’t need to know.”
*
“I don’t like it,” Matthew said to Ian, standing out of earshot from the rest of his family. He caught Mark’s eye and indicated he should join them, biting back a smile at the way Mark straightened up into his new status as a man of the household.
“You must both carry your muskets,” he instructed his sons. “And we must make sure your mama has loaded pistols in the house.”
“Why?” Mark sounded apprehensive.
“Well, you don’t get your flank sliced open like a ripe peach by chance, do you?” Matthew said with a certain edge.
“Mayhap we shouldn’t have helped them,” Ian said.
“He was hurting and they haven’t harmed us. We depend on their goodwill to live in peace.” No choice, he thought. Sometimes a man had to walk the tightrope and hope he made it safely to the other side without falling into the abyss.
*
The pursuers clattered into the yard the next day, six men on winded horses that studied the well-tended buildings with overt interest before turning their attention to Matthew, who was crossing the yard in their direction with Mark and Ian at his heels.
“Indians,” the oldest of the men said. “We are on the tail of a band of Indian braves.”
“Ah,” Matthew said.
“Have you seen them?” One of the men leaned forward across the neck of his horse, brushing at the dirty, black hair that fell over his brow.
“Well, I don’t know, do I? What Indians? How many?” Matthew stretched his mouth into a daft smile.
“About ten or so,” another man said. “We think at least two are badly wounded.” He patted at his sword with grim satisfaction.
“Nay, we haven’t seen a band of Indians with several wounded,” Matthew said.
“Hmm.” The black-haired young man looked at them through eerily light grey eyes.
“What have they done, these Indians?” Matthew asked.
The men shared several looks before coming to some sort of silent accord.
“We had a disagreement,” the eldest said, “over some women.”
“Indian women?” Ian asked.
“Not any more,” one of the men muttered. “They’re good Christian women now, nothing left of their savage ways. My wife, and his.” He used his thumb to indicate one of his fellow riders and shifted in the saddle, looking longingly in the direction of the house.
Matthew bowed to the inevitable. “Will you join us for dinner?”
“Much obliged.” The black-haired man swung off his horse with alacrity. He threw the reins at Mark. “Water him, boy.” He took a step closer to Mark; sank those strange eyes into the lad. “Are you sure? No Indians come by here recently?”
“No, sir.” Mark backed away.
“Really?” The man produced a decorated length of rawhide. “We found this up your lane. It even has blood on it.” He turned to face Matthew. “I don’t hold with Indian lovers.”
“I told you,” Matthew said. “We’ve seen no Indians. That doesn’t mean they haven’t passed by, does it?”
The younger man looked at him in silence. “No, I suppose you’re right,” he finally said, smiling at his host. But he didn’t believe him – Matthew saw that in his ice-cold eyes.
*
“I’m not sure what to make of all this.” Alex watched the riders disappear in the direction of Forest Spring.
“No.” Magnus came to stand beside her. “It was a strange story. I had no idea intermarriage was so common.”
“Nor me,” Matthew said.
“The question being if it’s voluntary or not,” Alex mumbled.
“The red-haired one seemed very much in love with his wife and their two children,” Magnus said.
“Aye, he did.” What a sad tale, Matthew thought. Two Indian women abducted years ago from their families resurfacing as baptised wives of white settlers in Virginia, mothers of several children.
“What was Qaachow attempting to do?” Alex asked. “Buy them back?”
“Aye,” Matthew nodded, “and that didn’t go down well, did it?“ Once the Indians had understood the white men were reluctant to part with their wives, what had begun as pure negotiation had deteriorated into savage fighting, leaving one white settler dead. He gnawed his lip and frowned. “That man, Burley, the one with the strange eyes. I didn’t like him.”
A Newfound Land (The Graham Saga) Page 10
