My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers)

by Christine Dorsey

  “I am happy. You are getting stronger and talk of a treaty with the Cherokee is everywhere—”

  “Yes, yes. And you adore being cooped in this cabin with an irritable old woman and a sickly child whose mother is barely able to care for herself. Tell me how you enjoy doing more than your share of the chores even though you awaken each morning to divest your stomach of its nourishment.”

  She stopped suddenly, and Caroline couldn’t help but laugh. It was so unlike the optimistic Mary to talk so. “Goodness,” Caroline said with a shake of her head. “I didn’t realize my morning bouts of nausea awakened you. Perhaps I should learn to gag a bit more quietly.”

  “Don’t make light of it.”

  “Believe me, Mary, I don’t consider my morning ritual of leaning over the slop jar amusing. Still, I don’t quite understand your outburst.”

  “Are we friends, Caroline?” Mary turned over her hand and grasped Caroline’s, holding it tight.

  “Of course we are.”

  “Yet you won’t let me help you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. ’Tis obvious Colleen takes much of your time, and that is as it should be, but—”

  “I’m not referring to physical labor, and I think you know it.” Mary took her sleeping daughter from her breast and handed her to Caroline. With a quick kiss to her smooth forehead, she placed the child in her basket. When she would have stood, Mary again clasped her hands. “You listened to me, when I told you of my love for Logan... my fear that he didn’t feel the same.” Mary took a deep breath that shook her thin breast. “It helped me to speak of it... with a friend.”

  “And that’s what you wish me to do?” Caroline felt annoyance building in her and tried to suppress it. “Bare my soul. All right, Mary. Where shall I begin? I didn’t love my husband. Nay, let me be honest. I loathed my husband. Does that honesty on my part make you feel better?”

  “Robert wasn’t a very likable man.”

  “No he wasn’t.” Caroline felt a layer of anxiety melt away. “But I wed him and owe him some measure of loyalty.” She didn’t like to think about the way she deceived him.

  “At the sake of your own happiness?”

  “There are more important things to consider.”

  “Your child is Raff’s, isn’t it? Oh, please don’t look so stricken.” Mary leaned forward and threw her arms around her friend. “Mistress Quinn is out for her constitutional, and you know I would never breathe a word of this to anyone.”

  “How did you know?” There was no sense in denying it, Caroline could see that by the expression on Mary’s sweet face. She was convinced and lying about it wouldn’t help.

  “I’d like to say ’twas my intuition.” She hung her head and a few soft curls escaped from her cap. “But I fear in part, I know because I heard you and Raff talking last week.”

  “Mary, I’m shocked.” Caroline tilted her head. “You were eavesdropping?”

  “Perhaps a bit. But you and Raff weren’t exactly keeping your voices down. Oh Caroline, why didn’t you tell him the truth?”

  “What if I don’t know the truth?”

  “Stop that right now!” Mary stood, pulling Caroline up with her. “We both know Robert never touched you. Do you think I wasn’t aware of what went on in that house? He threatened often enough; and if he could have, you’d have been bedded often. But the truth is, he spent his days drinking and his nights alone.”

  “Goodness.” Caroline found the heated flush that crept up her face embarrassing. “I never knew you to be so forthright.”

  “I just want what’s best for you.” Mary threw her arms about Caroline’s waist. “You are my dearest friend.”

  “Then trust me to do what I must.”

  “You mean you aren’t going to tell him?” Mary leaned back to study Caroline’s face.

  “Mary.” Caroline let the word drag out.

  “All right. I shall leave it up to you.”

  “And you won’t tell Raff?”

  “Nay, I shan’t say a word.”

  Caroline decided later that week that she should have demanded another promise—that she and Mary would discuss the matter no more. Mary apparently decided that if she couldn’t inform Wolf of his impending fatherhood, she must convince Caroline to do it.

  “He really can be very civilized, you know. Logan told me once he was an excellent student while at Oxford. And he was considered quite the thing in society.”

  Caroline paused, the spoon she used to stir the Indian corn bread poised in mid-stroke. She swiped at an errant strand of curly hair with her free hand. “Dare I guess that the ‘he’ you refer to is Rafferty MacQuaid?”

  Mary had the decency to look contrite. “He is a remarkable man,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to overlook that fact because he has Cherokee blood.”

  This time she dropped the spoon into the cornmeal mix and turned to face her friend. “Is that what you think, that I’m rejecting him because of his race?” Caroline didn’t wait for an answer. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “But you love him, I know you do.”

  “Perhaps I do.” Caroline’s voice was as impassioned as her friend’s. “But the problem is, he doesn’t love me.”

  There was nothing Mary could say to counter that. Certainly Raff hadn’t disproved Caroline’s words by returning to the cabin after the night he found out about her pregnancy. His absence had even been noted by the unobservant Mistress Quinn. She commented the night before that there was a lack of fresh meat in their stew. Since Wolf was the one who had brought a rabbit or squirrel whenever he stopped by and since she’d accompanied her remarks with a pointed look at Caroline, it seemed obvious she connected the two.

  “I believe Mr. MacQuaid is absent from the fort,” Caroline said, using her best Your Ladyship voice. She should have known better than to put on airs with Mistress Quinn.

  “ ‘Mr. MacQuaid’ is it?” the old woman said with a throaty laugh that sent her into a coughing spasm. “Thought you two were beyond such formalities,” she continued when she’d caught her breath.

  Beyond such formalities indeed. The woman was incorrigible. But even though there were many times Caroline would have preferred to be alone, away from Mistress Quinn’s raucous comments and even Mary’s bittersweet romanticism, Caroline stayed near the cabin.

  Smallpox was more a threat than ever. Its presence hung in the air, a constant reminder to Caroline that she needed to take Mary and the baby and return to Seven Pines.

  With the treaty negotiations progressing as they were, leaving the fort seemed more and more a possibility. Governor Lyttelton, at the Little Carpenter’s insistence, had released more of his hostages. It was a sign of good faith, and it precipitated the drawing up of a new treaty between the English and Cherokee.

  Mistress Quinn returned from her daily walk to inform Caroline and Mary that there was nothing more to fear from the Indians. “They done put their mark to the agreement,” she called out as she entered the cabin. “No more worrying about being scalped in our sleep,” she said with a whoop of joy.

  “What has you so excited?” Mary leaned back in the rocker and laughed as the older lady grabbed Caroline’s hands and danced her about the room.

  “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

  “We heard,” Caroline said, pressing her hand to her heart when Mistress Quinn let her go. “Tell us about the treaty. What did they agree upon?”

  “There’s to be a ceremony tomorrow, but they already signed it.” Mistress Quinn sank heavily into her chair by the fireplace and spent a few moments catching her breath. “Lyttelton’s agreed to release the Headmen when the guilty Indians are brought to the fort.”

  Caroline couldn’t see anything new there, but she said nothing.

  “There’s to be friendship between the two nations,” Mistress Quinn was saying. “And they’re to set up the licensed traders again.”

  It all sounded well and good, and a treaty was certainly what C
aroline had hoped for. She toasted the peace with a mug of apple cider, sharing in the good spirits that prevailed in the cabin. But secretly she wondered what Raff thought of this agreement. Was she missing something, or did the treaty change very little?

  Peace and friendship were noble words, but the governor still held innocent Cherokee Headmen against their will. And he still demanded the surrender of twenty-four Indians who killed white settlers in Virginia... who, according to Wolf, were only avenging the deaths of their slaughtered brethren.

  Caroline lay on her bed that night, her hands folded over her slightly mounded stomach and watched the fire make shadows and light dance across the ceiling. It was so hard to understand the relationship between the Cherokee and the British... her people. It ’twas no wonder she and Wolf couldn’t seem to be of a like mind about anything. But she still couldn’t stop thinking of him. He wasn’t in the fort. Mistress Quinn had mentioned that—again staring pointedly at Caroline.

  So he was gone. Presumably somewhere among the Cherokee. Caroline couldn’t help the sadness that settled over her spirit. But it was probably for the best. Her fingers splayed over her womb. Now there would be no one to stop her from leaving Fort Prince George and returning to Seven Pines.

  The English planned to start up trade again with the Cherokee, and she was determined to be one of the traders. And unlike her late husband, Caroline would be fair and aboveboard with the Cherokee.

  The next day was full of pomp and elaborate costumes. The Cherokee, among them Little Carpenter, Attakullaculla, Round O, and Killianca, wore their finery. The December sun shone on their silver armbands and breastplates. Their shirts were of English-made material, colorful and covered by long capes that fluttered in the wind. Like Wolf, their bodies were tattooed, but where he wore his hair long and sleek, the Headmen’s scalps were shaved except for the topknot they decorated with wampum and feathers.

  Not to be outdone, Governor Lyttelton and his officers appeared in full military dress. Their scarlet tunics and white powdered wigs offered a colorful counterpoint to their Indian allies.

  Speeches were given and presents were displayed... though not exchanged. In a move that Caroline considered less than friendly, the governor decided to withhold the gifts of peace—muskets, powder, and such—until all the Cherokee guilty of raiding the Virginia colonists were turned over to him.

  But as Caroline watched the ceremonies, the Headmen gave no indication that they were offended. To the contrary, all seemed pleased with the agreement.

  Certainly Governor Lyttleton did. Within days he made plans to quit the fort. Of course, he really hadn’t much choice. Nearly half his men were gone, having left for Charles Town when he hinted that those who wished could decamp. The fear of smallpox was a strong motivator.

  Not that Caroline begrudged any of the soldiers that fled the dreaded disease. She was preparing to do the same. As weak as Mary and the baby were, she could only thank God they hadn’t succumbed yet. And she was taking no more chances. The treaty was signed. The soldiers, except for a token force, were gone, and the Cherokee from all she could tell would be ready for a new trader. It was time to leave Fort Prince George.

  “Are you certain you won’t come with us?” Caroline glanced over her shoulder toward Mistress Quinn, who sat in her chair puffing on her clay pipe. Caroline resumed rolling her petticoats and stuffing them into the saddlebag when the woman shook her grizzled head.

  “I’m planning to go to Charles Town as soon as I’ve the chance.” She blinked through the smoke curling up from her mouth. “But I ain’t sure you should be going further out on the frontier yet.”

  “I explained to you about the smallpox,” Caroline said, lowering her voice so she wouldn’t disturb Mary. She’d gone to bed early in anticipation of the morrow’s journey, and Caroline knew Mary would need all the rest she could get.

  “I done had smallpox back in ’35. Almost died, I did.” She puffed again. “But I pulled through.” She twisted her head toward the door. “Now who do you suppose that is at this time of night?”

  Caroline hadn’t heard anything before Mistress Quinn spoke, but sure enough there came a pounding on the door. With a nod, the older woman indicated Caroline should answer it.

  It was dark outside, but she recognized Wolf’s large frame instantly. He stood in the doorway, his face in shadows, his musket cradled in his arms, and Caroline felt a bittersweet longing that all but carried her forward. If not for the memory of their last encounter and his stance, so tall and rigid, she might have thrown herself into his arms.

  How long they stood there staring at each other, Caroline didn’t know. It was Mistress Quinn who broke the silence, with a bellowed shout. “Who in the hell is at the door? It’s cold enough to freeze a witch’s tit.”

  “It’s Raff, Mistress Quinn,” he called in. “I have someone here who wants to see Caroline.”

  “Well bring ’em in for goodness sakes.”

  Stepping back Caroline let Wolf in, only then noticing that there was someone else with him. She smiled tentatively at the young man who was wrapped from head to toe in a greatcoat and muffler. He reached up and unwrapped a layer, laughing at Caroline’s shocked expression.

  “So, Caro, is this all the welcome I receive after traveling so far to see you?”

  “Ned?” Caroline flew toward the stranger. “Ned, it is you.”

  Seventeen

  “And that is where Mr. MacQuaid found me.” Edward Simmons, Eighth Earl of Shewbridge finished his story with a flourish. With his elbows planted on the hand-hewn table, he glanced first across the room toward Wolf and then back to his sister. She sat beside him, her hand on his arm. For a moment the only sound was a shifting log in the hearth that took most of one wall in the log cabin.

  Then Caroline shook her head. “But I don’t understand. ’Tis not that I don’t love seeing you.” Her fingers tightened on his sleeve. “But what possessed you to come?” She may have thought about sending for him... at first, when she thought she and Raff... that wasn’t even worth remembering. She even considered that someday he might choose to come to the New World. But not now—certainly not now.

  “I just thought it would be an adventure,” he said, unaware that Caroline caught the nervous blink of his right eye.

  He may have grown a foot since she last saw him, now standing taller than she, but Caroline could still tell when he was lying. And he was doing it now.

  “An adventure, you say,” she said, cocking her head to one side. He only nodded before digging into the bread pudding he’d pushed aside moments ago, pleading he would burst if he ate another bite.

  “What of school?”

  “I quit,” he said around another mouthful of the cinnamon-laced sweet.

  “Quit? Ned...” Caroline pushed away from the table and stood. “’Tis impossible to believe you would do such a thing. Especially when I—” Caroline caught herself before mentioning all she’d gone through to provide for him. Folding her arms, she turned her back, trying to regain her calm. And missing the furtive look her brother shot toward Wolf, and the supportive nod he received in return.

  “I was asked to leave.”

  “What?” Caroline’s skirts swished on the packed-earth floor as she whirled around.

  “It wasn’t as bad as that,” Edward said with a forced grin. “They were very nice about it really, considering...”

  Caroline was almost afraid to ask. “Considering what?”

  “That they’d received no coin for over a year.” Blood drained from Caroline’s face and she had the uncomfortable feeling she might swoon. She clutched the chair back and closed her mouth. “There must be a mistake. Paying your school was part of the—” Her eyes darted to Wolf lounging in the corner, leaning on his long rifle. “There must be a mistake,” she repeated.

  “I thought as much also, being as you told me it was a condition of your marrying that colonial. But then Mr. Chipford came around and assured me ’twas true.”


  “There was no money transferred?” Caroline didn’t like discussing private affairs in front of Wolf, but he didn’t seem inclined to take his leave, and he’d already heard enough to guess the rest.

  “Not a farthing,” Edward said and stood, moving over beside his sister. The arm he put around her was tentative at first. He was used to her comforting him, her taking care of him. “I thought it best I come find you,” he said when she rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry if things didn’t work out as you’d planned.”

  Caroline reached up to touch his cheek, surprised that the hint of whiskers deprived it of being baby-soft. But he’d grown more than physically. “I’m glad you came,” she said. “As it was, I’d thought to send for you.”

  “Really?”

  There was a glimpse of the same old Ned as his blue eyes opened wide.

  “Yes, really. Now off to bed with you. I’m sure you’re tired after your adventure.”

  “I am a bit buggered out. But where do I sleep?” He glanced around the room as if he half expected there to be a secret hallway that led to a separate wing of bedrooms. Caroline almost laughed at the thought and for the adjustment he would have to make.

  “’Tis up yon ladder,” she said with a sweeping motion of her hand. You’ll find a reasonably comfortable mattress and a modicum of privacy.”

  To Edward’s credit, he simply nodded and swung onto the bottom rung. But halfway up the ladder he paused and looked down at his sister. “I’m glad I came, Caro. It never did please me having an entire ocean separating us.”

  “I didn’t like it, either, Ned.”

  Caroline stared at the crude ladder as long as she could before turning toward the only other person in the room. She would have thought he’d see her brother’s departure as the perfect opportunity to take his own leave. But he seemed rooted to the spot, watching her from beneath hooded eyelids, his expression unreadable.

  Caroline swallowed and began clearing the dishes from in front of Ned’s place. Her brother had eaten two bowls of stew, cornbread and dessert so quickly, Caroline had to wonder when he had his last meal. Raff on the other hand had accepted only hot mulled cider. Caroline decided she wasn’t going to go close to him to retrieve the pewter mug.