Into the Wilderness (132 page)

He
should have been back hours ago; she could not pretend anymore that she was not
worried.

Elizabeth
picked up the likeness of his mother to study the high forehead and calm
expression in the dark eyes.

"Where
is your son so late on Christmas Eve?" she asked out loud, and then jumped
back, startled, at a pounding on the door.

* * *

They
came in with a great rush of cold air and loud noise that set the dogs to
barking: Jed McGarrity's fiddle arguing with the great variety of tin horns and
penny whistles with which Elizabeth's students were armed. There were shouted
greetings and a great deal of laughter: Axel and Anna, Martha and the
McGarritys, the Kaes girls trailing beaux, and most of the children of the
village, many of them masked.

Elizabeth
forced herself to smile, swallowing her disappointment. Hannah and Liam had
brought the revelry up the mountainside for her; she could do no less than be
cheerful for them. Hannah fairly capered around the room, her plaits flying in
an impromptu dance to the fiddle music.

"Is
that you, Ephraim?"
Elizabeth
's
laugh was genuine, now. It was not so much the mask that hid most of the pale
little—boy face that shocked, but the fact that he wore an empty ink pot on the
end of every finger of his left hand. These he waved and clattered in her face
ferociously.

A
volley of gunfire from the porch made her start up again and blanch, but Martha
was at her elbow before she could even turn in that direction. "Just the
Cameron boys," she said. "They like to waste their powder on Christmas
Eve."

"You
missed the fireworks!" Anna announced, pushing a bowl of doughnuts into
Elizabeth's arms. "But they thought you might like the noise anyway.

"Ah,"
Elizabeth said. "How thoughtful."

There
was a new round of shouting outside. She moved toward the door with her heart
high in her throat, hoping for the only Christmas surprise that seemed to
matter now.

The
door opened and the dogs took the opportunity to escape, howling into the
night.

In
the door frame was the large and familiar shape of Robbie MacLachlan,
white—haired and blue—eyed, blushing the color of spring primroses. Beside him
Treenie wagged her tail like a tattered flag.

The
party turned in sudden silence to the door.

"Robbie
MacLachlan," said
Elizabeth
,
stunned.

"Oh,
no, miss," breathed little Marie Dubonnet, her eyes wide with wonder. "That's
Saint Nicholas."

* * *

When
he had greeted everyone and convinced the younger children that he was not a
Dutch saint, but only an old Scots soldier tired of his own company, Elizabeth
drew Robbie into the workroom while the party carried on.

"What
have ye done wi' Nathaniel?" he asked, his broad face creased with good
humor. "Dinna tell me that ye've misplaced your guidman agin, and on the
Yule?"

Then
he looked closer at
Elizabeth
,
and his expression sobered. He stood back, and pulled his hat from his head.

"What
is it, lass?"

Determined
not to ruin Hannah's Christmas Eve,
Elizabeth
pulled him farther away and into the shadows. Treenie followed, snuffling
curiously at
Elizabeth
's
stomach and rocking her back on her heels in her enthusiasm.

"He
went out to get a turkey, very early this morning. I am worried, Robbie."

"Aye,
and ye didna need tae tell me, for it's written clear on yer face, as much as
ye wish tae hide it." He rubbed a hand over the white bristle on his
cheeks, and then heaved a great sigh. "A few mair hours in the bush will
no' harm me. I'll fetch him, aye?" He began to pull on his furs again, but
then he stopped with a thoughtful look. "There's no' a chance o' foul
play? Where is Richard Todd keepin' hisel’ these days?"

Elizabeth
shook her head. "There is so much to tell you, I don't know where to
begin. Whatever is keeping Nathaniel, Richard has nothing to do with it—he
followed Kitty to
Johnstown
this morning."

"Did
he? Luve—struck, is our Cat—Eater? Well. I'll have the whole o' the story
later, lass. Let me be on ma way, sac much the sooner I'll be back."

"But
you must be hungry."
Elizabeth
remembered her manners quite suddenly.

"It's
no' sae bad. Thirsty, though."

"Robbie!"
called Axel from the other room. "I've got the best of my schnapps here to
warm your bones!"

The
big man laughed out loud, with a half—apologetic glance toward
Elizabeth
.

"Aye,
and wha' Scotsman wad turn that doon, on sic a night as this?"

Then
with an encouraging wink to Elizabeth, he leaned over to talk into her ear. "Dinna
fash yer bonny heid, lass. I wilna be long." In three paces he had crossed
the room to take the cup offered to him.

"Axel
Metzler, ye're a rare mannie tae brew nectar such as this," he muttered,
inhaling deeply.

The
whole room seemed to shine with his energy, and
Elizabeth
was comforted although she could
not say exactly why. He held the cup up to the room, and winked at her.

"Here's
tae us," he bellowed. "Wha's like us? Gey few, and they're a
deid!" And he tipped back the cup with a neat movement of his wrist.

"Good
Yule!" he finished, wiping his mouth with his hand.

"Good
Yule!" echoed around the room.

Then
he whistled to Treenie and strode to the door.

"But
where are you going?" Hannah called.

"Dinna
fear, lassie. I'm the ill shillin' ye heard aboot—ye canna be shut o' me. I'll
soon be back."

"Robbie!"

He
turned toward
Elizabeth
,
one brow raised in question.

"Did
you bring any word—”

“o'
Hawkeye? Aye, lass. He's well. Do ye set doon and put up yer feet, and rest.
I'll be back sae soon as I may."

* * *

It
was another half hour before the Christmas mummers and revelers had been sent
on their way to serenade the rest of Paradise, and Elizabeth could collapse
into the rocker before the hearth. Hannah plopped down beside her, her face
flushed still with excitement and pleasure.

"I'll
make you some tea," Liam offered. It was a skill he had acquired after
long tutoring, and one he was proud of.
Elizabeth
simply nodded.

"You're
worried about Pa," observed Hannah. "He'll be back." She said
this with such assurance and calm that
Elizabeth
had to smile. She was suddenly very tired, and content just to sit before the
hearth and drink the tea that Liam pressed upon her. When they went off to
their beds—Hannah to the sleeping loft, and Liam to his cot in the workroom—
Elizabeth
could not quite
manage the energy to move. Although she did not mean to, she finally slept with
the warmth of the fire on her face, and her hands spread protectively over her
belly.

She did
not hear the door open, some time later, nor did the familiar step wake her.
Nathaniel stood looking down at her, wanting to touch the flushed curve of her
cheek but loath to put even a finger on her, as cold as he was. She slept with
her head bowed back. Her mouth was curved slightly in a near smile, so that he
could see the glint of her teeth in the dim light of the dying fire. Her eyes
moved rapidly behind lids as delicately colored as seashells. A good dream,
then. One he did not want to disturb.

Nathaniel
stoked the fire, and then he sat down in its warmth to watch his wife sleep.
His stomach threatened loudly and his hands and feet had already begun to
tingle painfully, but for the moment he could ignore all of that to study her
in his own time.

There
was a knock on the door and she started awake, her expression shifting from
confusion and worry to joy as soon as she saw him. It was all the Christmas
present he wanted or needed, to see how it pleased her to have him home. He
brushed his mouth against her temple as he got to his feet.

"Nathaniel!
What kept you so long?"

"I
got disoriented." He grinned, moving toward the door.

"Thank
God for Axel's fireworks. Now who could this be so late?"

"Robbie."

"You
were dreaming of Robbie?" Nathaniel asked, surprised.

"I
was not dreaming," she said, struggling up from the chair. "Robbie
was here! He went out to look for you."

There
was another muffled rattle at the door.

Nathaniel
pulled up, suddenly uneasy.

"Who
is it?" he called, reaching for his rifle.

From
the corner of his eye he saw Hannah's head pop up over the rail of the sleeping
loft. Liam had appeared in the shadows at the workroom door with a musket in
his hands.

"Christ
Almighty, man, will ye open the door afore I drop the bluidy great gomer el

Nathaniel
threw up the bar and the door crashed open instantly to reveal Robbie strained
forward, an unconscious man slung over his shoulder. He rushed into the room.

"Well,
Robbie," said Nathaniel, laughing. "Brought us a Christmas present,
have you?"

"Nathaniel,"
Elizabeth
scolded softly, coming forward. But the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Is
he dead?" called Hannah, already on her way down the ladder.

"Ach,
no' a bit o' it. He's fu' o' drink." Robbie grunted as he deposited the
limp form on the floor before the hearth.

The
stranger was of middle age, dark haired and very lean of face, softly jowled.
Nathaniel had never seen him before.

"—And
p'rhaps froze a bit, for bye conceded Robbie. "But he wilma die, lass. It
wad take mair than a cauld wind tae kill a Scotsman the likes o' this
one."

Nathaniel
and Elizabeth looked up at Robbie at the same moment.

"Do
you know him?"
Elizabeth
asked.

"Aye,
I do. It's no' sae proper as he wad have it, but I'll introduce him. This is
Angus Moncrieff, factor and secretary to his lordship, Earl of Carrick. Or so
he's tolt me."

He
laughed in response to the blank look on their faces. "We'll let him dry
oot, shall we, and he can tell ye his own story. In the morning, I'm guessin',
by the look o' him."

But
Angus Moncrieff, factor and secretary to his lordship, Earl of Carrick, was
producing a low moan, and he began to stir.

"Hannah,
he'll want water,"
Elizabeth
said, sending the little girl scuttling off to the drinking bucket. Liam went
to get blankets, and in a few minutes they had the stranger sitting up before
the hearth, blinking at them all groggily. Then his gaze fell on Robbie, and
his dark eyes narrowed slightly. He rubbed his head with one trembling hand.

"I
see ye beat me here, MacLachlan."

Elizabeth
's
head jerked up in surprise. Nathaniel could see the calculations going on
behind her eyes, and the questions quickly multiplying, at odds with her
impulse to be polite.

"Aye,"
said Robbie. "But no' by much. Yer scout will hae broucht ye down the
Canada
, and
here was I, hopin' tae give these people some preparation for yer news."

Moncrieff
had sat up, and he shook his head to clear it. "I must thank ye, man. The
scout is still back in the village tavern drinking that devil's brew—"

"Schnapps,
aye," Robbie agreed. "And ye decided tae come up here by yersel'.
Ye're no' the first tae misjudge Axel's schnapps, Moncrieff."

"I
fear I've come a long way to make a verra bad first impression," said the
man gruffly. He looked around him, and started visibly at the sight of
Nathaniel. "You'll be Daniel Bonner's son, Nathaniel?"

When
this was confirmed, Moncrieff held out a hand. "I hope ye'll pardon the
intrusion, so late and all. But I was anxious to make yer acquaintance."

"Maybe
we should set at the table," Nathaniel suggested. "Before we get to
the reason for your visit. I don't know about you, but I haven't eaten all
day."

* * *

Elizabeth
could not quite stop examining the stranger from Scotland, or wondering why a
man of some means and education would have spent a year looking for Hawkeye. He
had started in New—York and worked his way upriver, looking for clues but
finding none until he came into the Albany area just three months past.
Elizabeth
had a difficult time curbing her curiosity while
the men ate, filling themselves with huge amounts of bread, leftover stew,
Anna's Christmas doughnuts, and the apple pie
Elizabeth
had made as a small present for
Nathaniel. He winked at her over his spoon, and she rubbed her hand along the
long line of his back as she went by.