A frightened look came over Andrew’s face. “Well, what’ll I do?”
“Slap those lines on his rear and say, ‘Get up, Easy!’ That’s his name. Easy.”
“But what if he runs away?”
Hawk laughed. “Then you say, ‘Whoa, Easy!’ and haul back on those lines. He’s a pretty smart horse, though. He knows what we’re doin’.” He had borrowed this particular animal from William. It was a heavy iron-colored horse, very large and strong with powerful legs and bulky shoulders.
Tentatively Andrew slapped the reins and said in a rather feeble voice, “Get up, Easy!”
Instantly the animal moved forward, and Andrew said in a panic, “What do I do now?”
“If you want him to go left, pull that left rein. If you want him to go right, pull the right line. That’s all there is to it.” Elizabeth and Hawk followed along. Hawk stayed in close reach so he could leap forward and grab the lines if necessary.
“I’ve never seen him so happy,” Elizabeth said.
“The boy likes to learn to do things. He’ll be a good man.”
Hawk’s words pleased Elizabeth, and she wanted to say how much she appreciated his sacrifice in working for them, but she had already learned that he did not like her to thank him.
When they got to the site of the cabin, Andrew hauled back on the lines and said, “Whoa, Easy!” Instantly the big horse halted, and Andrew looked around with triumph brightening his eyes. “I did it! I did it!”
“You sure did. I don’t know any man who could’ve done it better,” Hawk said, smiling at the boy.
The simple praise brought a flush to Andrew’s eyes, and he dropped his head for a moment. Looking at his mother, he saw her smiling at him, then he turned and said, “Can we go get another one, Hawk?”
“I reckon so, but first, let’s eat. Why don’t you fix up that bait of food, Elizabeth? After we get these logs hauled, I’ll be ready to eat like a bear!”
As Elizabeth and Sarah cooked the supper over an open fire, Sarah said jealously, “Andy gets to have all the fun, Mama! He gets to drive the horses and everything!”
“We’ll have fun, too. As we build the cabin, you’ll have to help me decide where to put the furniture and where to put the beds. It’ll be fun.” She reached over and squeezed the girl and said, “Oh, we’re going to have a wonderful home here!”
“I wish—” Sarah started to speak, then broke off suddenly.
Elizabeth looked down and read the child’s mind. “I know,” she said. “I wish your daddy were here, too. But we promised him we wouldn’t worry and grieve.”
“I know, but sometimes I can’t help it. I miss him so much.”
Elizabeth hugged her, and Sarah grabbed her mother and held on with all of her might. “We’ll be all right, Sarah.”
“I’m glad Hawk is here to help us. I don’t know what we’d do without him.”
Elizabeth nodded and whispered, “I don’t know either. I think God gave him to us to get us through this time.”
****
Rhoda Harper was staying with the family of John Russell. She liked John and his wife, Leah, very much, but with four children, the small cabin was already overcrowded. Actually she would have preferred to sleep outdoors, but that would have seemed ungrateful.
She had watched Hawk and Elizabeth ride out along with the children early in the morning, and she was glad for Elizabeth. She knew of the promise Hawk had made to Patrick MacNeal and was aware of how dependent the family had already become on the tall frontiersman.
Needing to escape from the crowded cabin for a while, Rhoda strolled along the outskirts of the settlement. She heard the sound of axes and cheerful voices ringing everywhere over the cool October air. She took a deep breath, thinking how much better it was here in the clean freshness of the open country than in the stale dark interior of The Brown Stag. For a time she had grieved over the deaths of the Simmons family and of Patrick MacNeal. She had known Patrick the best, of course, and even the thought of him now ran like a sharp knife into her heart as she considered how she might have prevented it. The attack had come early, but no matter how many times she told herself that, she knew she should’ve gone to Hawk at once and warned him.
Her mood grew somber, and she wondered when Jacques Cartier would appear again. Somehow she knew she had not seen the last of the man, and she muttered, “I wish he had gotten killed in that attack! He deserves it!”
Walking along the bank of a creek where most of the settlers drew their water, she heard her name being called. She turned to see Paul Anderson dismounting from his horse and waving.
“Rhoda!” he cried. “Let me tie my horse.”
Rhoda stood there and waited, and he came up to her, a smile on his face. He wore better clothing than most of the settlers—a white shirt with a string tie and a pair of black wool trousers topped off by a light green coat.
“Hello, Paul,” Rhoda greeted him. “Where have you been?”
“I’ve been talking with Sequatchie. We’ll be leaving in a few days to go to his village.”
Rhoda was disappointed, for his kindness to her was part of what made her feel secure. “I know you’re anxious to go,” she said quietly, “but I’ll miss you.”
Anderson blinked with surprise. “Will you?”
“Why, of course I will! What did you think?”
Anderson had pulled his hat off, and now he twirled it around in his hands. It was a low-crown brown felt hat, and he studied it before looking at her. “I don’t know what I thought.”
She laughed at him. “I thought preachers always knew everything.”
“You don’t know much about preachers. Where you going?” he asked.
“Just out walking.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“No, let’s walk along the creek here.” They turned and moved slowly along the bank. The creek was no more than ten feet wide, but there were deep holes in it that contained panfish, and soon they passed a group of youngsters who were fishing. Rhoda said, “You know, I’ve never caught a fish in my whole life.”
“You haven’t?” Paul looked at her with astonishment. “Well, that’s easily fixed. I hate to boast, but I’m rated as one of the best fishermen in my part of the world. Of course, there’re different kinds of fish here, I guess. But”—he smiled and looked very young as the October sunlight framed his face in its yellow beams—“a fish is a fish.”
They walked a little farther, noticing a large turtle that was sleeping on a log. When they got close, it plunged off and Paul said, “He’d make a good soup.”
“You can eat turtles? Those ugly things?”
“I don’t know about that one, but I’ve had some good turtle soup.” As they continued to stroll along the bank, Paul said, “Rhoda, what are you going to do? Are you going to continue staying with the Russells?”
“I don’t have much choice, Paul.”
“You said something about preachers knowing everything. Well, they don’t. Half the time I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I think God is telling me to do something . . . and then it turns out it was just my own head making up the thing. But sometimes, Rhoda, I get an idea or a thought, and it comes over and over and over again. And when that happens, I always have to at least consider that God is trying to get something through my thick head.”
“You mean God actually talks to you?”
“Oh, not with a literal voice. Not like your voice that I’m hearing now. It’s in the spirit. Someday you’ll understand.” She did not respond, and he said quickly, “I think you ought to have your own little cabin, Rhoda.”
“Why, I couldn’t build a cabin!”
“Well, I can. Well . . . I guess that’s a little boastful. I’ve been watching them cut down trees and make log cabins.” He laughed ruefully and said, “That’s not the same thing. Like watching a chicken lay an egg—I don’t think I could accomplish that!”
“Oh, that’s foolish!” she laughed. The smile left her fac
e, and she stopped and turned to face him. “Why would you want to do a thing like that for me?”
Paul looked embarrassed. He kicked a stone with his boot and watched it sail into the creek, then shrugged. “It’s not so much that I want to—although, I would like to learn to do things like that. I won’t need a cabin, because I’ll be on the move. But I think God is telling me to help you.” He saw the unbelief on her face and said, “I know you don’t believe in God, but I do. Would you let me help you with this?”
“You need your own cabin, Paul.”
“No, I’ll be going to Sequatchie’s Cherokee village after the cabins are all built.”
“I wouldn’t want to be a burden. I couldn’t let you do it.”
“You know, Rhoda,” Paul said, raising one eyebrow. “There’s one thing you don’t know about me.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m a very stubborn fellow, and right now I’ve got my mind made up that God wants me to help you build a little cabin. Not a big one, and I’m not foolish enough to think that I could do it all myself. But haven’t you noticed how everyone chips in around here? How they help each other?”
“They wouldn’t want to help me.”
“Sure they would—at least some of them. Some of them wouldn’t help anybody, but the others are good people, Rhoda.”
“They know what I—what I was back in Williamsburg. Some of the men still come, trying to get me to go with them.”
“You haven’t, though.”
Rhoda instantly looked up. “How do you know that?”
“I don’t know it, but I don’t think so.”
She studied his face carefully. Men had been in her life since she was only a young girl. Most of them had been hard and had used her for their own pleasure. But now as she looked up into Paul Anderson’s face, she knew he was a good man whom she could trust. She liked his green eyes and his straight nose. He was not a handsome man, nor large and powerful like Hawk, but there was an honesty about him and a spirit of fun that she was drawn to.
Finally she whispered, “I just don’t know what to say.”
He reached out suddenly and took her hand and said, “Let’s shake hands. That’s what people do when they make an agreement.” He took her hand firmly in his own and smiled. “You’ll just agree that I’m a stubborn preacher with a crazy idea. Maybe we’ll get the cabin half built, and I’ll leave you and go off on another wild-goose chase. No telling what I might do. But maybe we’ll get it built, and maybe you’ll have a home of your own, and then we can get someone to plant some corn for you. I want you to have a good life, Rhoda,” he said simply.
Rhoda Harper felt a sudden wrenching in her heart, and for some ridiculous reason she wanted to burst out crying. She struggled against this, turning away from him to look out at the trees that were swaying in the brisk wind. Finally she turned again, and her eyes were slightly misty, but her full lips turned upward in a smile. “All right, Paul. If you want to be a stubborn preacher, I guess I’ll have to let you do it!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Settlers of Appalachia
The house raising was an exciting time for Elizabeth, unlike anything she had ever experienced. She watched with delight as the men worked smoothly in crews. Some notched the logs, others split cedar shakes expertly, and another crew worked on the fireplace. Nothing had ever thrilled her so much as the sight of her new home as it rose from the earth, log by log—and her eyes shone so that Hawk smiled at the sight of her pleasure. She seemed to be reaching out and becoming part of the cabin in some mysterious way, and it puzzled him how a cabin could mean so much. But then he was a man—a man of the open country who could not read a woman’s heart.
“We still have to do the roof poles, and the rafters have to be set in place,” Hawk said. “Then after that, the roof can be put on, and the chinking can go between the logs. Got to lay the floor, and finally build the fireplace and chimney. That’s a pretty big job in itself.”
“I don’t care,” Elizabeth said, walking around inside the cabin, her eyes filled with wonder. She ran her hands over the logs and then turned to face him. “Just think. These were trees just a few days ago, and now they’re a home for us.”
Hawk looked up to the open sky above. It was November, and the heavens were gray. There was even a hint of snow in the air. “Be a little bit drafty,” he said wryly, “living in here without a roof.”
“We’ll get a roof,” Elizabeth said. “Won’t we, Hawk?”
For that moment the two of them felt completely united. They had both worked so hard, throwing themselves into the building of the cabin, and now as they stood there alone, listening as the voices of the children outside came faintly from the creek, there was a strong bond of friendship between them.
Suddenly Hawk shook himself and dropped his head. “We’ll get the roof on. It won’t take long. If you’ve got the money to hire a few hands, it’ll go quicker.”
“Oh yes. I still have the money.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her purse and handed it to him. “Take what you need.”
Hawk stared at the fine leather purse with the solid brass snap. It was a fine reticule that only a woman from a rich family would carry.
“You’re mighty trusting with your money, Elizabeth.”
“Not with everyone.” Elizabeth smiled at him. Then she whirled around the cabin, saying, “If we had music, we could have a dance in here!”
“I haven’t done that in a long time,” Hawk mused.
“Come on!” Elizabeth said. “Let’s celebrate. Just one dance. I’ll sing, and it’ll be the celebration for my new home.”
Hawk put his arm around her waist, took her hand, and the two of them spun around the floor as she sang. She was light and easy to lead, and her hair had a good smell of perfumed soap. Suddenly vaguely familiar feelings stirred in Hawk. He had never thought he could feel so alive again, and somehow Elizabeth brought that out in him. Smiling broadly, he looked deep into Elizabeth’s eyes.
Elizabeth read a change in his eyes and stopped abruptly. She laughed self-consciously and smoothed her hair down. “Well, there,” she said. “We’ve had the celebration for the new house.”
“We’ll get the roof on as soon as I can get some men together,” Hawk said. He turned and left so quickly that Elizabeth was surprised.
“Well, for one moment there I thought he was going to be human!” It was the first time a man had touched her since Patrick had died, and somehow it made her feel guilty. That was a foolish thing to do! she thought. I’ll have to be more careful. . . .
****
Elizabeth came every day to watch the roof go on. Hawk hired three men, and the roof almost built itself, it seemed, with the ridgepoles going up quickly. It went so fast that Hawk said, “We’ll put a loft in while we’re here. Then when you have company, you’ll have a place for them to sleep.”
The sky had been dark with winter clouds. Hawk feared its impending delivery and hired two more men to help with the chimney. They hauled stones from the creek and mortared them together with mud, grass, and sticks. It was a large chimney, spanning an enormous length of wall, and when it was finished Hawk looked pleased. He was hot and sweaty from putting the last rocks on the top, and he said, “Well, here’s your house, Elizabeth.”
“It’s beautiful, Hawk!” She looked around and smiled at him. She remembered the dance that they had had together, and somehow it embarrassed her.
“Not much furniture, but we can put a few things together if you’re ready to move in.”
“Oh yes! As quick as we can! I brought blankets and plenty of cookware.”
“You’ll need a bed and a mattress and a lot of other things.”
“I’ll make out.” Elizabeth hesitated and said, “Are you going to be leaving now?”
“I thought I might. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place.”
Andrew and Sarah had come in and heard him say this, and they stared at each other. Sar
ah came over and took his hand. Looking up at him, she said, “Please don’t leave, Hawk!”
Andrew said nothing, but there was a worried look on his face.
Elizabeth said quickly, “Now, don’t you pester Hawk! He’s done more for us than anyone had a right to expect!”
Hawk said slowly, “Tell you what. Let’s make the first fire in the fireplace. I’ll go out and shoot something, and we’ll cook it right here. Your first meal.”
“Oh, could we really?” Elizabeth wondered, pleased at the thought.
“Won’t be very fancy, but we can do it. Come along, Andy. Let’s see what we can put on the table—even though we don’t have a table.”
While Hawk and Andrew went to the woods in search of game, Elizabeth walked around the corner, hugging herself and smiling from time to time at Sarah. She had strong feelings of pleasure and pride at having her own place. She had never felt this way about the mansion she had grown up in. Now every log, every shake, every piece of this cabin somehow was hers in a way that the mansion in Boston never had been.
She and Sarah gathered firewood and started a fire, and soon Hawk and Andrew came back with two rabbits.
“Look, Ma! He shot ’em right through the head, and they were runnin’, too!”
“Good thing rabbits don’t shoot back.” Hawk grinned. “Come on. I’ll skin one, and then you can skin the other.”
Forty-five minutes later, the four of them were seated on the dirt floor, eating the rabbit they had roasted on wooden spits over a hickory fire.
Elizabeth thought of the white tablecloth, the fine heavy silver, and the crystal goblets of her home back in Boston, and a smile trembled on her lips.
“Sequatchie’s going back to his people day after tomorrow,” Hawk said suddenly.
“Yes, there’s been talk of a service before he goes. Everybody’s planning to attend. Will you be there?”
“I guess I will.” He looked up and said, “It’s getting cold. You’re going to need a lot of firewood to get through the winter, Elizabeth. And in the spring you’ll have to have someone plow your land.”
Over the Misty Mountains Page 30
