by Ana Seymour
Ethan didn’t stand. He’d wanted to kill Trask when he’d seen him hurting her. Then he’d wanted to lay her down on the beach and make her forget that she’d ever been touched by any man but him. His body was only now easing the stridency of the desire their kisses had generated. He couldn’t remember when he had wanted a woman as much, but he tried to tell himself that it was because he knew deep down that she was unavailable.
“Very well,” he said, forcing his tone to a lightness he did not feel. “I’ll keep my distance.”
“Thank you.” She turned to leave, but he called her back.
“Hannah!” When she paused he said softly, “I promise to keep my distance, but only as long as you keep yours.”
By the next morning Hannah thoroughly regretted her actions of the previous evening. She had not only submitted to Ethan’s advances, she had participated, had indeed been quite swept off her feet. He was the one who had called a halt. Who knows what might have happened if he hadn’t. For the first time, Hannah had the sick feeling that her mother had been right when she had warned that Hannah had inherited her own “weak blood.”
“We’re just the kind men prey on, Hannah,” she would say. “Women who enjoy wickedness.”
Hannah had not felt the least bit wicked when she had been in Ethan’s arms in the moonlight, but in the harsh light of day, she wondered and she hurt.
Ethan had not spoken to her as they made preparations for their final day. She had seen him turn his head sharply once in her direction when she had called her employer “Randolph.” She had done it in a deliberately loud voice, she admitted to herself, as if making some kind of proclamation, but no one except Ethan seemed to pay attention to the change, not even Randolph himself.
The day was uneventful and seemed to drag on endlessly. Everyone kept waiting for the welcome sight of the fort to appear over the next rise. Ethan had told them that they would be able to see the fort from atop a bluff and at the same time would have their first glimpse of the great vee where the Monongahela and the Allegheny Rivers joined to form the mighty Ohio.
When the dramatic time finally came, there was a moment of silence before Ethan called, “We’ll dismount and rest here awhile. It’s still a good piece down to the fort—farther than it looks from here.”
Hannah wondered if the rest of the party shared her brief twinge of misgiving at the first sight of Fort Pitt. It was a stout, five-sided structure built on the point of land formed by the rivers. All around the current buildings, the ramparts of the old French fort lay in ruins. It was much smaller than she had imagined. The trading post beyond was a tiny village of ramshackle huts that had not the least resemblance to the fine paved avenues and streets of Philadelphia. They had left their homes, their families and friends and a city of nearly forty thousand people to come to this.
Hannah looked over at Randolph and the children. Like the rest of the group, their expressions were somber. They had all held on to the idea of Fort Pitt as some kind of haven of rest. A return to civilization. A wonderful milestone on their journey west. But it seemed to Hannah that in some ways it was the biggest disappointment they had experienced.
When Ethan called them to start up again, they mounted up and made their way down the trail with little talking. “I thought it would be bigger,” Jacob said, which fairly summed up the general feeling.
Once she got used to the sight of the meager buildings of the fort, Hannah began to concentrate on the surroundings, and these were everything she could have imagined. The fort was nestled in a beautiful valley surrounded by green hills and river bluffs on all sides. The broad, majestic Ohio flowed out to the southwest, promising rich lands beyond.
“There’s the Ohio,” she shouted to Peggy and Jacob.
Jacob had recovered his enthusiasm. “It’s bigger than the Delaware,” he said.
“Yes, indeed,” Hannah answered. “And much longer, too.”
“And we’re going to float right on down it, aren’t we, Papa?” He twisted in the saddle to look back at his father, almost toppling Peggy in the process.
“Watch out!” she cried. “Sit straight, Jacob.” Her voice sounded as if she were on the verge of tears.
“We’ll not be floating anywhere for a while,” Randolph answered in a reassuring tone. “We’ll stay to have some good food at the fort and meet some nice people. We’re going to have a great time.”
Hannah hoped he was correct. They all needed a little merriment before embarking on the second portion of their trip, though the journey by flatboat should not be as arduous as the riding had been.
It was twilight by the time they reached the gates of the fort. Now that they were on the same level, the structures looked more substantial than they had from above the valley. The brick blockhouse by the gate was comfortingly solid. The fort might not have Philadelphia’s elegance, but it gave a reassuring impression of permanence and protection.
The exhausted travelers were greeted by a snappylooking lieutenant who smiled and cast a quick, appreciative eye over Hannah before he walked over to Ethan and gave him a salute. “Glad to see you, Captain,” he said. “I reckon you folks could stand some victuals before we get you settled in.”
Ethan shook the soldier’s hand warmly and smiled his thanks. Hannah tried not to pay attention to the exchange, busying herself with untying her saddlebags. From the corner of her eyes, she could see a woman running toward them across the yard. Ethan turned just as she reached him and did not look surprised when she flung her arms around his neck.
“Ethan, ye brawny boy!” she shouted. “I’ve missed ye.”
Ethan lifted her off the ground with one arm and gave her a solid kiss on the mouth. “You can stop missing me, Polly. I’m back.”
Chapter Seven
Randolph had introduced Hannah to the fort commandant as his housekeeper. They were to dine at his house their first evening to celebrate their arrival, and as they made their way across the yard, Hannah’s spirits were high. For the first time she felt truly that her status had moved beyond servant. Eliza and Seth had treated her as equals from the beginning, and Nancy Trask was starting to rely on her the way Priscilla had when she had become ill. Hugh Trask was the only one of the group who had rolled his eyes when Randolph had revised her title.
They had seen nothing of Ethan since that afternoon. He had disappeared with his soldier friends and the demonstrative Polly. Hannah was relieved that he was not present at Colonel Bouquet’s house when they arrived. It was difficult enough adjusting to the fact that Randolph was offering his arm to escort her into the dining room as if he were a suitor paying court. Hannah hesitated for a moment before placing her hand on him shyly.
Always sensitive to others’ feelings, Eliza came up alongside the couple and took possession of his other arm. “You did want to escort two of the prettiest ladies at Fort Pitt into supper, didn’t you, Randolph?” she asked pertly. Then she leaned around the front of Randolph and whispered, as if in a conspiracy with Hannah, “We have to be two of the prettiest, my dear, since we are practically the only ones here.”
Hannah and Randolph laughed, the moment of tension relieved. Then Seth came forward to protest that he wasn’t about to be left without a lady for himself, which more or less obliged Hugh to give an arm to Nancy, who looked much revived by the mere fact of having reached a temporary stopping place in their journey.
They had left the children in the charge of the fort’s laundress, a plump, cheerful half-Indian woman who promised the youngsters that she would tell them a story about a real Indian princess before they went to bed.
Colonel Bouquet proved to be a congenial host. He introduced them to four of his officers, who joined them for the meal. The men were obviously happy to have visitors from the outside world. They asked about the rumors that Parliament was going to impose a tax on sugar to make up for the monies spent on the recent conflict with the French, and they inquired about which ships had recently arrived from home. Colonel Bouque
t told them that he had a wife and four children back in Bristol, and he hoped to be reassigned to England soon. In spite of their good humor, the men sounded lonely, and Hannah realized that the soldiers led even more isolated lives than the settlers, who at least had their immediate families around them.
They ate off wooden trenchers instead of plates and at a table that still smelled of fresh cut pine, but the food was abundant and delicious—roasted venison cooked with turnips and a sweet-tasting orange-colored root that the colonel called camote.
The evening would have been perfect for Hannah if it weren’t for the presence of Trask, who looked up at her slyly every now and then from his place at the end of the table, and if she hadn’t found herself glancing at the door every few minutes expecting Ethan to join them. As if reading her mind, Randolph finally asked the colonel, “Will our guide be dining with us to-night?”
Bouquet shook his head. “Ethan’s had one or two better offers, I’d wager. He’s a popular fellow around here.”
“A woman greeted him as we rode in,” Randolph observed.
“That would be Polly McCoy. Her husband was a trapper in these parts who went off with a band of Chippewa one day and never came back. Polly has just stayed on at the fort making her living as a trader. The Hudson’s Bay people don’t much like having her here, but she gives fair prices and the trappers like doing business with her.”
“I imagine they do,” Seth Baker said with a grin, then sobered when Eliza nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.
“So Captain Reed and Mrs. McCoy are friends?” Randolph asked, flicking a glance at Hannah’s face.
“I guess you could say that. They seem to keep company when Ethan’s around the fort.”
Hannah had resolved to put Ethan out of her mind, but she could not help the little jump in her stomach as his name was mentioned. Of course she could have predicted that he would have a woman to “keep company with” at the fort. It was just one more indication that she should stay as far away from him as possible.
In spite of the colonel’s warm hospitality, none of the new arrivals cared to linger over supper. They were still recovering from the rigors of the trail, and all said that they would be better guests on the morrow. To their surprise, Colonel Bouquet suggested holding a dance in their honor. “That is, if you approve, ladies,” he added.
The Quaker influence in Philadelphia was still strong, and in many circles the popular pastime was frowned upon, but Eliza assured him that this particular group would join in the diversion wholeheartedly.
“Wonderful!” the colonel exclaimed. “We have a lieutenant by the name of Higgins who can play a reel that’ll set your boots a-smoking.”
“We can make it a contest, then,” Eliza said smugly. “Because my husband has always claimed to be the best fiddler in the colonies.”
Seth denied her statement, but it was agreed that the following evening they would gather in the officers’ mess to celebrate the arrival of the Philadelphia party. In the meantime, living quarters had been arranged. Hannah had been given a small room with one cot to share with Peggy and Jacob. When Randolph escorted her there after dinner at the colonel’s, the children were already asleep, leaving only the very edge of the bed for Hannah.
“Is this going to be all right for the three of you?” Randolph asked, looking doubtful.
“I’m so exhausted I could sleep on a board full of nails,” she said with a tired laugh.
“Tomorrow I’ll ask the quartermaster to find another cot to put in here.”
“If one is available, fine. If not, we’ll make do with what we have.”
Randolph put one hand one the side of the doorframe just above her shoulder. “Do you ever complain about anything, Hannah?” he asked her with a shake of his head.
She was aware that he was standing very close to her and that he had a new, hungry look in his eyes that she had not seen before. She was also aware that his children slept not two yards away. She tried to answer lightly. “I’ll probably start complaining any minute now if I don’t get some sleep.”
Randolph let his hand drop briefly to her shoulder, then removed it. “I expect I’ll have to kiss you one of these days, Hannah Forrester,” he said.
Her face flamed. “Mr. Webster!” she exclaimed.
“It’s Randolph, remember,” he chided. “You remembered well enough this morning when you saw that Reed was watching you.”
She bent her head away from the gentle reproach in his brown eyes, but he lifted her chin up again. “It doesn’t matter, Hannah. I’m patient. I know that Reed’s not a man who would ever settle down with one woman, and you’re smart enough to know that, too.”
For the hundredth time, Hannah remembered the scene as Polly McCoy flung herself into Ethan’s willing arms. She set her jaw. “Yes. I’m smart enough to know that,” she agreed.
“So that’s enough about that,” Randolph said briskly. “Now, may I have the honor of escorting you to the dance tomorrow evening, my lady?” he asked with a little bow of his head.
Hannah could not quite get used to being pursued by the man who had virtually ignored her for so many months. “What about the children?” she asked.
“Oh, they’ll come with us, of course. After all, we’re a family, aren’t we?”
Hannah nodded, too tired to quibble with his assertion. “Family” would do for tonight. In fact, it had quite a lovely sound to it.
The bench in front of McCoy’s Trading was a favorite gathering place for the civilians who called Fort Pitt home. During the winter, the regulars moved inside to crowd around the potbellied stove. But on a warm spring evening, the front porch and steps were full. Ethan leaned back against the porch railing and smiled as Beartooth Carter finished off another of his tall tales. Nobody seemed to know where Beartooth had come from. He claimed he’d been across the entire continent to the Pacific Ocean and back again. And he had at least one story for each mile of the trip.
Polly had already retired to her tiny bedroom at the back of her store. Her pretty lips had puckered in a good-natured pout when Ethan had declined to accompany her there. Her pique was not because she was in love with him. Polly was a woman who loved men too much to make the mistake of falling for a particular one. But she was used to being the queen bee at the fort and hadn’t been pleased to see how Ethan’s eyes wandered time and again to one of the new settlers he’d brought in.
“You’re always watching her—the skinny one,” she’d accused. And Ethan had laughed because Polly’s famous curves were a handful and becoming more so each year. “Is she married to the tall one?” Polly had asked.
“No. She’s his servant,” Ethan had answered.
“Well now, that’s a new name for it.”
Then Ethan had said, “It’s not like that.” Polly had seen that he was growing annoyed, and she had wisely dropped the subject. But even with her best cajoling she had been unable to entice him into her bedroom.
One of the soldiers leaned over to Ethan and offered him some tobacco to chew, a habit they’d learned from the Indians. Ethan tore off a piece and stuffed it into his mouth. He didn’t know why he did it. The damn weed tasted like hell. He didn’t know why he had turned down Polly, either. He could be in her bed right now, worn-out and happy. Instead he sat listening to Beartooth’s increasingly unbelievable stories, half his attention on the commandant’s house across the yard where the lights were blazing and, no doubt, the guests were having a merry time. He’d seen Hannah walk there on Randolph’s arm, looking each minute more like the lady of the Webster house-hold—as he had predicted.
Hugh Trask had left the dinner party well before the others. Bouquet’s liquor must not have been to his liking. He evidently preferred the Scottish whiskey that Silas Warren was pouring down him as the two sat together on the far end of the porch. That was a combination that would bear watching. Trask and Warren. The one was an irresponsible drunk whose commitment to his family seemed to diminish with each passing day, a
nd the other was an unscrupulous trader whose specialty was making sure the Indians were not deprived of the chance to lose their health and dignity to the white man’s firewater.
Ethan stood and stretched. He was ready for bed. The commandant’s dinner party was still in progress, though the children had been asleep for a good while. Ethan himself had checked on them—the Trask girls and then the Websters. Peggy and Jacob were good children. They both obviously loved Hannah. And she would be a wonderful mother to them. Hell, he thought as he gave a wave to the men on the porch and started walking toward his room, she already was.
“There’s no money in farming, Trask.” Silas Warren leaned right up to the man next to him. “You sweat your guts out year after year and end up living like a miserable pauper begging for every crust of bread.”
The old Indian trader had lost an eye in one of his earlier adventures and didn’t bother to patch the fear-some-looking mess that was left behind. Trask winced and backed toward the edge of the porch. “I got two kids and one on the way and a sick, puking wife in the bargain. What am I supposed to do?”
“The best way to help out yer family is to come up with some real money.”
“Right. I pick it off the bloody trees, I suppose?”
Warren offered him the bottle of whiskey they’d been sharing. “You pick it off the bloody savages,” he said softly, looking over his shoulder at the group back by the steps.
Trask took the bottle. “What do you mean?”
Warren squinted his one good eye, turning his face into a demonic parody. “I’ll just tell you what I mean, my friend Trask.” He motioned to the whiskey. “Let’s drink to our new partnership.”
* * *
At the officers’ mess the next evening, even Nancy Trask, her condition now obvious, was deluged with offers to dance, though she blushingly refused all comers. There were not more than a handful of women at the fort, and three new arrivals caused a stir, even if one was pregnant and one was old enough to be a grandmother. Eliza danced with one young man after another until she was breathless and red with the exertion. She laughed with them and teased good-naturedly, putting the young soldiers in mind of their own absent mothers. Only Hannah and Seth, who knew her so well, could see the layer of sadness underneath her bright eyes as she thought of the hand-some young man who would never dance again—her Johnny who lay forever up on the hill back in Philadelphia.
