Bonds, Parris Afton (5 page)

The noon wind whipped her cloak about her long legs,
biting through its velvet material, through her organza dress, to numb her
bones. But Anne's body was no more numbed than her thoughts were as she stood
looking across the San Bernard River as the few scattered huts perched on the
chalk bluff.

Sweet Jesus, was that Adelsolms? Was that the
glorious town Otto had promised her he would build? Why, those miserable huts
were covered with straw, with moss roofs. And where were the windows?

A small hand slipped in hers. "Is that vhere
ve'll live,
Tante
?" Elise asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Anne stooped and put her arm around the girl's
waist. "The men will build better homes later, dear, I'm sure. These huts
are just to shelter us until crops can be put in. The crops must be put in
first, or we'll have nothing to eat this fall."

A figure appeared on the cliff, waving both arms,
then began to run down a narrow trail that led to a crudely constructed dock.
The sun gleamed on his mustard-colored hair. Several men scrambled down the
trail behind him. As they reached the flat, grassy bank, Anne recognized the
one in the lead as Otto.

She watched the men as they fell to untying the
flat-bottomed barge moored at the dock. And while they grappled with long
wooden poles, slowly pushing the ferry closer, Anne felt as if a net were
closing over her, ensnaring her, stifling her. "Run! Run!" her mind
screamed out. And she knew she would not. She would not run home like a little
girl. She was a grown woman now―with the responsibility of a six-year-old
girl and an old black woman ...and a husband.

But it was more than that which held her rooted
there on the banks of the San Bernard. There was the image of Colin. Those
emerald eyes that danced with merriment at some shared secret. Some day she
would see him again. And that would be enough. That would keep her going.

"Your husband should be most happy to see you,
Frau Maren."

Anne turned her head to meet Johanna's sapphire blue
eyes, gleaming from narrowed slits. She was undoubtedly attractive with the
braids coiled at each side of her head, emphasizing the slightly tilted eyes
below thick, fair brows. Anne found it difficult to like the girl. She knew the
girl returned the feeling and that Peter's friendship for herself had nothing
to do with their mutual dislike.

"I'm sure he will," Anne replied coolly
and turned back to watch the approaching ferry.

"It'z very thankful he vill probably be to
learn that Brant Powers haz brought hiz bride to him."

"Brant Powers?" Anne whirled to face the
girl. Others from the wagon train were gathering at the bank, joyful to finally
reach their destination, and Anne lowered her voice. "What do you know of Brant
Powers? What does he have to do with ..."

"Then again, your husband might not like it
that hiz vife vas traveling alone with such a man."

"I was not traveling alone with the man."

Ignoring the dangerous flash in the gray eyes, Johanna
continued. " 'A blackguard,' Zelda Jurgens told me. 'A pirate! And Frau
Maren sleeping alone at nights vith that man! Vhat vill Herr Maren
think?'"

"That iz utter nonsense, Johanna," Matilda
said, breaking in on the girl's mimicking of Zelda Jurgens. The old woman
thumped her cane on the ground. "Frau Maren vaz properly chaperoned. And
your Vater reprimanded you about Herr Powers because you vere flirting with him
like some
Dirne
. Now get back to your family. Your
Mutter
needs
your help."

"That chile's name is trouble,"  Delila
muttered after Johanna departed, casting one last spiteful glance at Anne.

Trouble, Anne thought, was already here. Her husband
moved through the crowd pressed around him with the two brothers, both
jewelers, who had helped organize the Adelsolm immigration. Otto shook
different hands in the crowd, but his lanky strides brought him ever closer to
her. An expectant hush spread over the settlers as the two came face to face
for the first time since their vows almost half a year before.

"I'm relieved you made it safely," Otto
said. His face was suffused with excitement. "I've been worried with these
heavy rains."

The settlers went back to the business of getting
their wagons across the shallow river, and Matilda and Delila disappeared in
the confusion with Elise. Anne was left alone with Otto. She looked at the face
of her husband, splotched now with freckles by the harsh prairie sun. But it was
not the freckled face of a boy, but a man―a man bent on a purpose, filled
with dedication.

Was this then what Delila had foreseen, her lasting
oak? Was this what she herself had overlooked as she had sat and listened those
many nights in  Bridgetown to Otto as he told of his plans, showed her the way
the town would be surveyed and laid out, described the large church that would
one day enfold his congregation?

"And you," he had finally said, "will
be the fitting mate God has chosen for me. There is a strength and
determination in your face. I have prayed about this and believe the Lord has
led me to you, has picked you among other women to go with me into that primitive
land, that Canaan, and save the souls of His children."

At that moment, there in the plantation's garden, where
the jasmine and the orange flowers permeated the very breath of the planter's
daughter and the

Evangelical minister, Anne found herself swayed by
Otto's eloquence, moved by the zeal of his vision, eager to brave a new land as
her parents had.

But now, facing the fervor in Otto's pale blue eyes,
she felt unaccountably shy―as shy as Peter had been with her. "It's
good to be home, finally, Otto."

There. She had said it. Had committed herself emotionally
more than the vow she took could ever have done. She laid her hand upon his
forearm and felt the involuntary tightening of the muscle. "Show me what
you've done, Otto."

"We've got so much more to do," he began,
"but it is a start. The barge will eventually be used to haul cotton and
corn down to Velasco. Hans and Rudi, they're the brothers who've been working
with me, have put in a field of corn and cotton―though I fear these
continuous rains will destroy our feeble efforts. Last week, we started work on
the Vereins-Kirche―"

"Wait, Otto. Not so fast. What is a Vereins―"
Anne struggled with the last word.

"A meeting place, dear. But we will use it for
a fort, our church, a school. Look, there it is―off to your left, near
the grove of acacia. Of course, it will look better, once we are
finished."

To Anne, the uncompleted structure of stone and wood
looked like an eight-sided coffee mill, but she could sense Otto's pride.
"I can see it will be a grand building, Otto―a fine place for your
first church."

And so the hesitant conversation continued as the
couple walked side by side back to the wagons waiting to ford the river. Only
as Anne explained the problems she had faced in traveling to Texas―the
gale in the Gulf of Mexico, the missed connections at Velasco, and finally the
hunger and exhaustion she had encountered upon meeting up with the wagon train―did
she recall Elise.

"So you see, Otto, since I didn't have a wagon
of my own and Elise's parents were dead, moving into the Von Roemer wagon
seemed the only thing to do."  She stopped to face him. "Otto, you
won't mind, will you, having Elise stay with us? She had nowhere else to go―and
there are more children like herself ―orphans. You'll hear all about the
wretched journey from the others. Something must be done to help these
children."

"Don't fret, Anne. Something will be done. An
orphanage will be started. We could put Delila in charge of it. It would be the
perfect solution for our problem with Delila. For you must realize she cannot
continue as your servant woman here. It is most unacceptable. And by all means
Elise Von Roemer may continue to live with us until an orphanage is completed.
It is the least we can do for the less fortunate than we. But in the meantime
there are more important things to do ..."

The expression had flickered quickly across the
thin, scholarly face, but still, in the full light of the February sun, Anne
caught the look ...and knew it as one of relief. Relief that Elise would be
staying with them. And Anne was thankful, for she had worried so that Otto
would resent the presence of a child interrupting the time to be spent with his
bride.

The fire burned low in the stick and mud chimney
that night, and Anne expected any moment the flimsy hut of moss-and-straw would
catch fire. The fire's warm light did nothing to relieve the harshness of the
place―a one-room cabin, without a ceiling or windows, though there were
small gunholes at eye level. And the floor was of hardpacked dirt.

But at least there was to cheer her, the familiar
objects of her home that Otto had brought with him ...her mother's rocking
chair, the wedding gifts of fine china, a lacy tablecloth, and the sheets she
had so laboriously embroidered with the initial "M" in the long
months she had waited for Otto to send word to her. Soft, luxurious sheets for
a mattress of cornhusk.

Over the quietness of the room came Otto's somber
voice asking the Lord's blessing on the food and thanking Him for safely
delivering his wife to him.

The meal was eaten in a leaden silence which was
broken only once when Otto addressed Elise, who, with a testy Delila, sat on
packing boxes in one comer awaiting their turn to eat. "You must be
thankful,
Fräulein
, that we have been gracious enough to accept you into
our home. But you must do your share of the work here. And there is much to do.
Do you understand?"

Elise's head nodded, swinging her long pigtails
jerkily. Anne's heart went out to the child, who cried nightly in her sleep for
her mother and father.

As if regretting his severity, Otto added, "I
know you are saddened by your parent's deaths, but it will not be so bad here.
In doing God's will, we will find great joy ourselves."

Her appetite depressed, Anne pushed away the
buttermilk cornbread and stringy venison stew―the last of the meat Peter
had shot two days before. From across the table Otto looked at her with sparse
brows raised questioningly. "I suppose I'm tired," she told him.

Her gaze slid across to Delila, who took the last of
the cornbread from the Dutch oven and gave it to Elise. Reluctantly Anne
admitted to herself she was grateful for the presence of the two. For the
fearless tomboy who had climbed the high palm trees and swum nude in the
secluded coves of Barbados knew apprehension there in the lost wilderness of
Texas. There where Indians attacked settlers and people died from cold and
exposure. And to think that in  Barbados Otto had deemed Delila primitive for
her voodoo.

Anne rose. "I'll clear the table so they can eat,"
she said.

Delila marched to the table, throwing Otto a huffy
look. "Ah'll take care of those dishes, Miz Anne. You go to bed. You' done
plumb worn out a fight'n with them oxen."

"A curtain will need to be hung across the room
for your privacy," Otto said. His voice was taut. His hands pushed the
thin strands of hair back from his high forehead as he hastily stood up and moved
to the packing boxes.

Delila shoved Anne toward the hearth, saying,
"Elise, chile, come fill that skinny body of yo's."

Elise looked first to Otto, who rummaged busily
through the boxes, then to Anne for permission. Anne smiled affirmatively, and
the child moved to the table.

While Otto tacked a bolt of sail cloth over the center
crossbeam, Anne found her brush and began removing the pins from her bound
hair. At first she enjoyed the relaxing sensation of pulling the boar bristles
through her waist-length hair, but she grew uneasy as she sensed Otto's devouring
gaze on her. However, when she looked up, his face reddened and he turned back
to his work.

After Elise and Delila had finished dinner and
retired behind the curtain, there could be no further delay. Anne rose from her
place at the hearth and extinguished the guttering candle. Otto turned his
back, ostensibly to bank the fire, and she slipped into the satin and lace gown
Delila had laid out for her wedding night. There was a lace nightcap that went
with it, but Anne never had liked wearing them and put the nightcap aside.

From the groping and sudden flash of white, she knew
Otto had donned his nightshirt. The dim form of white moved toward the bed. For
a moment the two of them lay stretched on the uncomfortable mattress, their
bodies not touching. The wind whistled mournfully through the chinks in the mud
walls. Then she felt the freckled hands fumbling at her satin covered buttons―the
cold fingers that slid hesitantly up her thighs.

Anne stiffened. Distaste filled her mouth like stale
coffee.

"Please," his voice came as softly as a
child's moan. "Be good to me, Anne."

The March days had taken on the slightest hint of
the warm summer to come, the slightest promise of longed-for spring. From the
forests that rimmed three sides of Adelsolms came the ringing sound of the axe
against wood, as the men felled trees to complete the Vereins-Kirche.

"The Vereins-Kirche must be finished
first," Otto had explained to Anne. "So, like a fort, it can protect
us against the Indians."

But countless times in the last three weeks Anne had
wished the men would start on the homes so there would be better protection
against the weather. Lots had already been drawn for the land sections, and
Anne was pleased to learn that Matilda and Professor Bern and Lina drew the
sections to either side of the league of land she and Otto had. And fortunately
Gustav and Zelda Jurgens had drawn a section of land far on the other side of
the plaza, which was dominated by the steadily rising fortress.

Adelsolms was beginning to take on the appearance of
a small town, Anne thought―if one could ignore the stumps in the middle
of the street where trees had been quickly cleared. And ignore the fact that
there was no mill, no smithy, no clothing shops, no market for food ...food,
Anne thought, feeling the sudden increase of saliva in her mouth.

But Otto had promised her things would get better.
Adelsolms was less than thirty-five miles off the Camino Real, the old Spanish
"royal highway" between San Antonio and Nacogdoches. When the weather
improved, Otto said there would be travelers on this Old San Antonio Road, as
it was now called; travelers who would come through Adelsolms sometimes,
bringing their business with them. And with their business the commercial
interests of Adelsolms would improve.

Yet, if they had to wait on the weather for
everything else to improve ...dear God, but she was hungry.

Anne bent to pick up a shirt on the line from the
laundry basket, but when she rose to hang the shirt on the line stretched between
the two hackberry trees, vertigo seized her. She caught hold of the line,
steadying herself. When had she last eaten? It was―yesterday at noon.
They had finished off the last of the wild game―tough squirrel meat―that
Peter had provided before returning to Velasco.

With great encouragement on Johanna's part, Peter
had at last requested permission to court the attractive German girl and had
promised to return within the month. Could the settlers hold out another two
weeks? Already the provisions the settlers had brought with them―flour,
coffee, salt, and lard―were running dangerously low.

Anne's dizzy spell passed, and the willows and
cottonwoods along the San Bernard's banks came back into focus. She blinked her
eyes. But it was indeed Brant Powers moving out of the treeline toward her.
Dazed, she watched the lithe, graceful way he moved. Power restrained. Like the
great buck she had seen drinking from the river's edge that morning. If only
one of the settlers had been a good enough marksman to get off a shot, there
would have been venison for dinner that night. And with the thought of food
again, Anne realized Brant had the carcass of a wild turkey slung over his
shoulder.

When he was close enough, she could see the scowl
that etched the sun-browned face. He halted before her, towering over her,
dominating her with his masculine presence. Colin she might be able to control
through feminine guile. Otto she could ignore―at least emotionally, if
not physically. But there was no controlling Brant, no ignoring him. Anne's
hand clung to the clothesline, supporting her, as she looked up into Brant's
face.

"Why are you out here alone?" he demanded.

She glanced back up toward the rear of the cabin.
Delila, she knew, would be outside in front, boiling the remainder of the
soiled clothing in the harsh tallow soap―stirring the clothes in the big
iron cauldron and looking like a witch in a fairy tale. And Elise would be
playing at Delila's feet with the corncob doll the black woman had fashioned
for her.

Anne turned back to Brant. "I'm safe enough,"
she replied with more calmness than she felt.

Brant grimaced. "Lady, you don't know just how
unsafe you are. Are all the men in the forest splitting rails?"

Then he had already scouted the area. She nodded.
What good was it to tell him that Otto could not protect her if he
were
there? He did not own a firearm, did not believe in killing. And so they went
hungry.

Her eyes looked greedily to the limp bird Brant
held. If she could snatch it from him, she would eat the bird raw, she was
sure. All of it. And guilt sweep over her as she remembered the others―as
hungry as herself. Delila and Elise―and Otto. If an accident were to
befall Otto, then there would only be two to share ...Oh, God! what kind of monster
lurked inside her?

As if reading the hunger in her eyes, Brant dropped
the turkey at her feet. She did not snatch at the carcass after all but stared
stonily at Brant. "Is the bird a gift," she asked scathingly,
"or is it to be charged against my account also?"

He ignored her. Pulling the pistol from its holder
at his hip, he handed it to her, horn grip first. "The Kickapoos are on
the war trail. Keep this with you at all times."

Anne held the pistol as though it was a loathsome
garden snake. "But―I don't know how to use this."

Disgust flashed in the long eyes, and Anne could not
help but wonder if he was comparing her to Dorothy, who she was sure would be
as capable of firing the pistol accurately as she would be of handling all
other problems unique to a frontier settlement.

Brant moved to Anne's side, so close that she could
once more smell the male scent about him―the elusive odors of tobacco and
leather. Odors that brought back the memory of that day in the forest when he
had almost crushed her with his weight, when he had thrust her from him in
contempt.

"You poke the powder in here," he
instructed. "Tightly." He removed a lead ball from the leather bag at
his neck. "Next goes the minié," he said, loading the ball into the
pistol's barrel. ''Then you take aim." One arm came around her, raising
her right arm up at eye level. "Like this."

Anne jerked, scalded by his touch. Brant's eyes
narrowed, his gaze probing deep within her as if looking for the answer to
something that puzzled him.

"I―I didn't expect the pistol to be so
heavy," she said lamely.

Brant's voice turned brusque. "You'll have to
learn how to use it, Mrs. Maren. Yesterday San Felipe was raided by the
Kickapoos. Two young girls on their way to school were scalped and had their
breasts cut off."

Anne shivered―whether from fear or from
hearing such an intimate word on the lips of the man, she did not know. ''This
makes more than once you've tried to frighten me," she said in a whisper.
"Why?"

There was the slightest smile to the lips that was
not a smile at all. "Maybe I'm still irritated with you. Your selfish
demand that we take time out to escort you cost the town of Bastrop the lives
of several of its citizens."

Anne's fingertips flew to her lips. "Oh, I'm
sorry! I didn't think about―"

"Your kind never do. So you see―it's hard
for me to treat you properly―as a lady should be treated." He pulled
the hat over his eyes. "Goodbye, Mrs. Maren."

Anne knew then, as she watched the dark figure move
silently as a wild animal back toward the river's forested bank, that the scout
held her in the lowest contempt. As much as she disliked the man ...as much as
he disliked her ...she felt drawn to him, more at ease with him in the seclusion
of the river's tree-lined banks than in her own cabin with ...and the thought
of what awaited her filled her with repugnance.

Perhaps that was the answer, she thought. With
Brant, who despised her, she knew she was at least safe from the unbearable
defilement of her body.