Amon (Prairie Grooms, Book Seven)

by Kit Morgan

  “Rooms?” he asked with a smile. “Or bedrooms?”

  She brought them to an abrupt stop. “Kitchen, parlor, dining room?”

  “Of course.”

  She pressed her lips together and tried not to smile. “How many then?”

  He let go of her hand, turned, took a long step and counted out seven paces. He turned again and did the same.

  “Whatever are you doing?” she asked.

  “You’re in the parlor,” he said with a grin. He turned and counted out another seven paces.

  “It’s rather large isn’t it?”

  He stopped. “Not with all the children we’re going to have.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh dear, I’d quite forgotten about that. I’m not having twelve!”

  Cutty went and stood beside her. “Where’s the kitchen at?”

  “I’m not sure, I’m afraid. You really should ask the architect.” She pointed to Amon.

  “Hey, Cotter! Where ya gonna eat?”

  Amon pointed behind them. “Over there.” He trotted to where they stood. “The dining room will be on the other side of the hall, opposite the parlor, with the kitchen beyond that. I’ve got it all fixed in my head. I even drew it out,” he added as he took Nettie’s hand again. “I can show it to you if you’d like.”

  She nodded, unable to speak. She could see the pride he had in his idea and didn't want to discourage him. She would’ve liked to tell him she’d lived in an eight-bedroom home. Unfortunately, her room was in the attic. Best to leave that for another time, she thought, if at all.

  She was startled out of her musings when, to everyone’s surprise, Amon plopped onto the ground and brought Nettie down with him. He laid back on the grass, careful not to squish too many flowers. “We can come out of the house and lie out here just like this and stare at the clouds.”

  Nettie was sitting next to him, her eyes searching for her brother, but he was nowhere to be found. “Where has Newton gotten off to?” she asked nervously.

  Amon pulled her down the rest of the way. “He’s fine - he probably went off into the trees.” He raised his head enough to see Cutty. “Care to join us?”

  Cutty looked at them a moment, seemingly unsure of what to do, then shrugged and laid down on the other side of Amon. “Cotter, you’re an odd sort,” he stated. “What’s the point of this?”

  “Look at the clouds. What do you see?”

  “Clouds!” Cutty barked. “What else am I supposed to see?”

  Nettie giggled. “I do believe he wants us to see what shapes can be found in them.”

  “Exactly,” Amon confirmed. He squeezed her hand. “So tell me, Nettie. What do you see?”

  She looked at him and an odd warmth encompassed her. Her hand was growing hot in his and she wondered why Cutty didn’t say something about the contact. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr. Cutty. I see only clouds.”

  Amon’s gaze slowly left hers and returned to the sky. “I see so much more. I see a place beyond our understanding, a vast world none of us can even imagine.”

  Nettie swallowed hard at his words, but more so at the faraway look in his eye. Was Amon Cotter some sort of mystic? “What do you think is up there?”

  “I haven’t a clue. But I feel there’s so much more than … well, than just us.”

  Cutty sat up and gawked at him. “Let me get my gun and I’ll shoot ‘em down! Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll actually hit somethin’ and we can have it for supper!”

  Amon propped himself up on his elbows. “You sure do know how to ruin the moment.”

  Cutty chuckled. “Ain’t that what chaperones are for?”

  Amon fell back on the ground. “Why do I try?” he lamented. “Why?”

  Nettie laughed. “He’s just doing his job. And I must say, he’s quite good at it!”

  “Too good,” Amon grumbled.

  Nettie felt a thrill run through her at his words. Was he trying to flirt? Another delicious shiver ran up her spine at the thought.

  “Yeah, well, all this hard work’s got me hungry,” Cutty announced. “Let’s open up that basket Mrs. Upton prepared. I could do with some vittles.”

  Amon sat up and looked at Nettie. “How about you? Are you hungry? It’s hardly lunchtime.”

  “Even so, I could do with a bite.”

  “Very well then,” he said as he got to his knees and pulled her up to a sitting position. Suddenly their eyes met again, and locked. “Nettie,” he whispered.

  “Yes?”

  He shook himself and closed his eyes. “Nothing.” He opened them, got up and brought her to her feet. “Let’s go get the basket.”

  “Hey!” Cutty called after them. “Ain’t ya gonna help me up too?”

  “No!” Amon said as they walked away.

  “Figgers,” Cutty grumbled and got to his feet. He took a moment to watch the couple head back to the wagon, then smiled. “Well, whaddaya know,” he whispered to himself. “They really do like each other. Ha!” He slapped his knee, patted his stomach and followed.

  Thirteen

  Newton traveled deeper into the trees. His sister and Amon would be fine with Cutty, so he could take the opportunity to explore, something he hadn’t been able to do since leaving England. After all, how far could one explore on a ship that one didn’t own or pilot?

  A small sigh escaped him at the thought. As a boy he’d often dreamed of being the captain of his own ship, setting sail for adventure. He’d set sail all right, but it wasn’t quite the adventure he imagined. Instead of an island paradise in the Caribbean or the South Pacific, he found himself in the middle of a vast prairie in the American West. And instead of trading trinkets with the local natives, he was marrying off his sister to a man he barely knew.

  He stopped, turned and gazed at the prairie through the trees. Would Amon Cotter be kind to her? Take care of her? Protect and provide? Yes, he believed the man would.

  But as he looked up at the branches of the trees, his thoughts were still unsettled. If he was so sure in his heart Amon would do all these things for Nettie, why was he so ill at ease? It was as if something else were happening around them, something neither of them could control no matter how they tried. Like a storm in the distance, but drawing inexorably closer …

  He’d had this feeling before, the first time the Baron had made plans to marry Nettie off. His sense that something was out of place had kept him up at night and driven him to find out what was wrong. And he certainly hadn’t liked what he’d found.

  Newton brushed the thought aside and continued his trek into the woods. This wasn’t like the tree line that bordered the hills beyond Clear Creek – at least not the way Seth and Ryder Jones had described it. The ground here was even and flat with a hint of a trail cutting through a large thicket, and he wondered at the strange variety of trees. “Most curious,” he said to himself.

  Of course, he wasn’t from these lands, and, like the flowers in Amon’s field, didn’t know one tree from the next. He supposed the difference in climate had a lot to do with it. The part of England he and Nettie were from was so much wetter, the rain often falling year-round. He was also farther inland than one could get in the British Isles, keeping the air drier and warmer.

  He stopped, took a deep breath and noticed how sweet the air smelled. He couldn’t fault Amon for wanting to build a house here. With the openness and beauty of the meadow and the lush patch of forest behind, he would want to build here too. But it was enough to know that Nettie would be happy in a place like this, surrounded by nature’s splendor. He smiled at the thought.

  A twig snapped.

  Newton froze. “Who’s there?” He spun around.

  No one. He glanced around himself. The sound had come from somewhere off to his left, or at least he thought it had. He peered through the trees, then glanced around again. It could’ve been an animal, but what animal would be big enough to snap a twig loud enough for him to hear at a distance? He stilled at the thought he might not be the l
argest thing walking amongst the trees.

  He turned to head back, and another snap of a twig accompanied him. He stood stock-still for a moment, listening, and noticed the birds had stopped singing. It was too quiet. “Who’s there?” Newton turned as he waited for an answer. After a moment, he rolled his eyes. If he were sneaking up on someone, would he announce himself? Of course not. “And I’d bloody well not step on any more twigs either,” he muttered, turned and ran –

  – right into a man. And what a man – a huge African, black as a moonless night! His clothes were tattered and worn, as if he’d been in a long battle. And maybe he had, but Newton had no doubt who’d won it. The African was a head taller than him and about a foot wider, and none of it fat. “Who are you?” he asked, stumbling back two steps.

  The stranger chuckled low in his throat, a deep rolling sound that was oddly comforting. “Good day to you, little bro-dar,” he said. “Are you looking for someding?”

  The man had a strange accent Newton could not identify – but then, he’d never been to Africa, so why would he? He took another step back. “Just out for a stroll. And you?” He glanced around to see if the man was accompanied, but spotted no one else. Not that he looked like he needed help.

  “Hmm,” the stranger mused. “Do you like what you see?”

  “See?” Newton said, too rapidly. “What do you mean? See what?”

  The man chuckled again and held his hands out to indicate their surroundings. “All of dis. What else? Have you not learned anyding from Amon?”

  “You … know Amon Cotter?”

  The big African threw back his head and laughed, then quieted, put his hands on his hips and stared down at Newton. “You will get to know him well, I suspect.”

  “He’s to marry my sister, so … so yes, of course I will.” He hated how frightened he sounded. It didn’t do to show weakness, even when he was obviously outmatched.

  But the big African didn’t seem to notice. “And what of you, little bro-dar?” He leaned down to put his face inches from Newton’s. “Who will you marry?”

  Newton took one more step back – right into a tree trunk. No escape. “Well, I … er … I don’t see how that’s any concern of yours! Who are you?”

  The man straightened, a frown on his face. “You are much like your fa-dar. But dat will be no problem.”

  Newton felt himself pale. “What did you say?”

  “Your fa-dar. You are much like him, yes?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” he said, now stepping forward. “Perhaps you should tell me. Did you know him?”

  The big man smiled and chuckled again. “We are acquainted.”

  “Then I wish to have nothing more to do with you, sir, whoever you are,” Newton said with false bravado. He made to shove past him. “Good day.”

  The shove didn’t move the other man an inch. He reached out and grabbed Newton’s arm. “Your sister and Amon must wed. You will see this done, yes?”

  Newton wrenched his arm free. “W-w-w-what is my sister to you?” he tried to snap. It came out more as a sputter.

  The big man raised his brows in amusement. “She will dink him strange, but for her sake and his, dey must wed.”

  “Newton?” Nettie called through the trees. “Where are you?”

  Newton turned. “Over here,” he shouted back, then suddenly wondered if it was safe for Nettie to approach. He turned back to the man –

  The African was gone.

  Newton spun in a complete circle, but the man was nowhere to be seen. There was no sign he’d even been there, not so much as a footprint. “I don’t believe it. Where did he go?” he muttered.

  Nettie came through the trees. “Newton, we’re eating. Come along while there’s still some food left. Cutty’s wolfing it down as if it were the last on earth.”

  Newton turned to her, his face stricken. He quickly collected himself and rubbed a hand over his eyes a few times.

  “Is something the matter?”

  “Why did Mr. Cotter let you enter these woods alone? It could be dangerous,” he snapped.

  Her brow furrowed at his tone before she looked around. “He’s over there looking at a tree. You don’t see him?”

  Newton gazed over her shoulder to the trees behind her and caught a small glimpse of Amon’s shirt. He must have removed his coat. Come to think of it, Newton was feeling pretty warm himself, but it wasn’t from the heat of the day. It was from his meeting with the African. Who was he – and more importantly, how did he know Thackary Holmes?

  Newton swallowed hard, took Nettie by the arm and without another word headed for Amon Cotter. If there were any answers, Amon was the man most likely to have them.

  * * *

  Nettie and her brother made their way through the trees to Amon, who was carving a symbol into the bark of a tree he’d been admiring. At his suggestion he and Nettie had left Cutty with the picnic basket (perhaps a mistake, but alas) and set off to find Newton. But once they’d entered the forest, Amon proceeded to tell her the names of the species he knew and his theory as to why there were so many different kinds in one spot. His guess was a group of settlers had decided to plant the trees to see how they’d grow – probably immigrants traveling west in search of adventure and fortune. If they’d passed through in the ‘40s, the trees would’ve had ample time to grow to the heights they’d reached. But why plant so many different trees only to leave and never return?

  “If we hurry we’ll get back before Cutty eats all the pie,” Amon stated as he quickened his stride.

  Nettie almost had to trot to keep up. “For Heaven’s sake, does the man only eat when he’s with us?”

  “You’ll have to excuse Cutty. He’s lived up in the hills for years, and food can be scarce up there in the winter.”

  “This is hardly the dead of winter, now is it?” Nettie said and almost tripped. “Oh!”

  Amon took her by the arm and held her close as they walked. “Watch out for the tree roots,” he advised.

  “Now you tell me,” she said, waving her free hand in the air. She looked over her shoulder at Newton. “Watch out for the roots.”

  He smiled. “I’ll see that I do.” His voice was flatter than normal.

  She glanced over her shoulder again. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, it’s nothing.”

  Now Amon looked at him. “Hungry?”

  “Ravenous.”

  “Good. I’ll race you back to the basket.” He let go of Nettie’s arm and took off at a run.

  Nettie stopped, wide-eyed and stared after him. She looked at her brother and shrugged. “I must say, that didn’t seem a very gentlemanly thing to do.”

  Newton shrugged as he watched Amon race across the field. His eyes slowly drifted back to his sister. “He has a free spirit – I believe that’s what one calls it.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I suppose there’s more we need to learn about these Americans than we first thought.”

  “I’m afraid I must agree,” she said. She brushed nervously at her skirt. “I keep forgetting that this is not London society.”

  Newton smiled at her. “We were never in London society.”

  “I know. But if we had been, this would cause quite the scandal, would it not?” she asked playfully.

  Newton leaned toward her. “That, or people would say he was addle-brained.”

  Nettie glanced across the field just as Amon dropped down beside Cutty. “Indeed they would.”

  He offered her his arm. “Shall we show them how it’s done then?”

  She looked at him and could sense something wasn’t right, but decided to ask him about it later. “We shall,” she said and put her arm through his.

  When they reached Amon and Cutty, several pieces of pie had already been consumed.

  “If you eat anymore, Cutty, you’re going to make yourself ill,” Nettie scolded.

  “I didn’t eat all that,” Cutty said in a huff. “Amon did.”

  “What?” Ne
ttie asked in shock.

  Cutty burst into hysterics. Amon chuckled along with him as he chewed the last of his pie. “You have to understand that around here, pie is very important!”

  “Especially while courting,” Cutty added. “Sit and have some.”

  Nettie and Newton settled themselves and each took a slice. “You mean we’re to eat it with our fingers?” she asked.

  “It’s more fun that way,” Amon said. He leaned toward her. “If you eat enough, it keeps you from doing foolish things.”

  She studied his eyes. They seemed darker than before. “What kinds of things?”

  His eyes darted to her mouth. “Oh … things.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, probably because she knew full well he wanted to kiss her. She quickly took a bite of pie and looked away. Amon moved with her as if pulled by her movements, so much so his arm shot out to keep him from falling over. Nettie laughed.

  “What’s so amusing?” he asked.

  “You are,” she said when she was done chewing and swallowing. She studied him again and felt a warmth creep into her bones. “You really do love it out here, don’t you?”

  Amon lay on his side, leaning on one elbow, and picked at the grass. “Yes, I do. It’s why I want to build here.”

  She nodded and took another bite as Newton, quiet all this time, finally sat and took a slice of piece for himself. “I can understand why,” she said. “As can my brother.”

  Newton almost choked.

  “Good heavens, Newton, what has gotten into you?” she asked. “You seem so … nervous all of the sudden.”

  “I’m quite all right,” he croaked. Cutty slapped him on the back a few times for good measure, but Newton was quick to wave him away.

  “Here,” Amon said, offering him a canteen. “Have a drink and wash that down before you choke again.”

  Newton nodded, took the canteen and gulped down a few mouthfuls. “Thank you,” he gasped and handed it back to him.

  Nettie looked her brother up and down but couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Perhaps the realization that she was getting married had finally caught up to him. She glanced at Amon, who was staring intently at a blade of grass between his fingers as if it were some exotic plant never before discovered. She swallowed hard as a fleeting thought whizzed through her brain: what if Amon Cotter was a bit addled? She had to admit, his behavior was odd – but what did that mean in the context of Clear Creek?