Into the Wilderness (91 page)

Elizabeth
lay
awake, the sound of her breathing slightly labored, as if she had run a long
distance. He moved closer, and she tensed slightly without moving away.
Nathaniel breathed softly on her ear; she let out a small sigh.

"Thank
God for wolves," he whispered. Her skin rose in response to the movement
of his lips, but she did not turn to him. He pulled her back against him, and
felt her resistance growing. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't,
please."

She
struggled, then, openly, and in one violent motion,
Elizabeth
turned to him to take his face
between her palms. In the dark her eyes seemed overlarge, glistening, the
fringe of dark lashes damp.

"I
cannot ask you not to be angry at me for what I did to you," she
whispered. He tried to speak, but she hushed him with a sound.

"Do
not deny it, even to yourself. But I want you to promise me that you will never
hold it up to me again like that."

In
his arms she was all tension and terrible hurt; he could feel it writhing
inside of her. Nathaniel flushed with remorse for what he had said so
thoughtlessly in his anger.

"We've
got tempers, the both of us."

"Do
you not understand, Nathaniel? It's much more than that." Her eyes moved
over his face. "You and I, we have a power over each other, it is like no
other force in this world. Between us, words can do worse injury than—”

“Any
rifle," he finished for her. "Yes." There was a churning in his
chest that closed his throat and made each word painful.

"I'll
try," he said hoarsely.

She
let out a sigh. Her smells struck him forcibly, her anger and her arousal
enveloping him, winding around him as he wound himself around her. Vaguely, he
was aware of Robbie leaving his bed and disappearing once again into the night.

She
reached for him with strong hands, demanding her due. Her roughness was new to
him, her greed as arousing as her heat. At some point Nathaniel remembered the
child and tried to pull away, to temper himself. But she would not have it,
could not have it, and clung to him still riding the wave of her fury. He gave
in, caring for her the best way he knew how. In the end she rewarded him with a
shudder and a smile and deep, healing sleep.

There
was a two—day portage waiting for them when they finally reached the end of the
long water the Kahnyen’keháka called Tail—of—the—Lake, known to the whites as
Lake George
. The walk westward to the
Hudson
drained
Elizabeth
of the last of her energy and her patience. She wanted to be home. She wanted a
hot bath and Curiosity's special soap to rid herself of the accumulated vermin
of the journey. She wanted to sleep in a bed; the last time she had had the
pleasure of one was on her wedding night, so many weeks ago. She wanted to see
Hannah, and get on with the business of being a mother to her.
Elizabeth
was struggling very hard to be
rational and patient and reasonable, and her inconsistent success at these
basic requirements of herself did not suit in the least.

Once
they had come to the juncture of the Hudson and the Sacandaga, Nathaniel
insisted on a full day's rest.
Elizabeth
thought
she would die of wanting to get on with it: they were only days out of
Paradise
, after all. But Nathaniel was firm, and met her
objections with calm reasoning she could not counter. To his credit, he bore
her ill humor with equanimity which was neither condescending nor overbearing,
and in the end she had to admit that the rest did her much good. She slept for
the most part, dreaming strange, brightly colored dreams of Hawkeye and
Falling—Day, Runs-from-Bears and Many-Doves and Hannah, Curiosity and Anna
Hauptmann.

On
the last day, drenched in sweat from paddling hard upstream, they stopped a few
hours out of
Paradise
. By this time,
Elizabeth
's joyful
anticipation had given way to a light but persistent anxiety, buzzing quietly
beneath the surface like a sore tooth as she framed the things she might say to
her father, to Julian and Kitty, to Moses Southern and to her schoolchildren.
These imagined conversations left her on edge, wanting both to rush ahead and
run away. She saw herself standing before them, their minds and hearts closed
to her reasoning, their indignation and disapproval weapons she could not best.
It doesn't matter, it won't matter
,
she told herself again and again. She remembered Nathaniel's face when she had
found him finally, the strength of his arms and of his resolve
. The world will be right again
, he had
said to her.
Together we will make it
right.

Resting
before the final push so that she could recover from her daily bout of nausea,
Elizabeth
had taken the
opportunity to comb out her hair and plait it again. She had washed the grime
from her face and neck and arms, steadfastly refusing to look at her reflection
in the water, knowing that gallons of buttermilk could do nothing to repair her
skin to its former state of ladylike pallor. For the first time in many weeks
she found herself thinking of the loss of her own clothes, for as comfortable
as she had become in Kahnyen’keháka dress, she did not relish the idea of
meeting her father and brother as she was.

By
the time the first homesteads came into view set back from the shores of the
river, Elizabeth could not remember why she had been in such a hurry to get
here, and if they should not have waited until full dark. As if he had read her
thoughts, Nathaniel glanced at her over his shoulder, his teeth flashing white
in his face. "You sorry you took me on, Boots?"

Her
anxiety left her in a great rush. Instantly ashamed of her petty worries,
Elizabeth
drew a deep
breath and tossed her plait over her shoulder.

"Never,"
she said.

Rain
began to fall as they pulled to shore. Treenie bounded into the shadows and
waited there while the men dragged the canoe into the bushes. Elizabeth pulled
on her pack, looking over the familiar setting of the lake, the far shore lost
in a twilight fog. Not a person in sight, no curious boys to gawk, ask
questions, and carry news. Tomorrow would be soon enough for a reckoning.

* * *

On
the way up the mountain, a path as familiar to him as the landscape of his own
face, Nathaniel had to remind himself to limit his stride. He was eager to be
at home and anxious about what news waited for them, but he was worried about
Elizabeth and the child, too. If he turned now and looked at her she would lift
up her chin, and urge him on. She would push herself past reason, if he let
her. She wore her determination like war paint.

The
rain stopped and the cloud cover broke so that the forest was plunged in and
out of the last light of day, now near dark, now reflecting raindrops on every
leaf. The sun dropped below the horizon with the suddenness of finger snap, and
in response the breeze rose and the great pines all around them rustled and
sighed.

They
passed the old schoolhouse and he saw with some relief that it had not been
vandalized.

"I
came tae ca' on yer fait her here, muny years sync," Robbie was saying to
Elizabeth
. "Afore he
wed yer mither, that was. The judge was e'er glad o' company. A mannie wha kent
the worth o' a wee sup o' whisky on a cauld winter's eve.

"Rab
MacLachlan," she answered, her tone gently teasing. "For a man who
professes to love nothing so well as his solitude it seems to me that you are
happiest in the company of others."

"You've
got him there, Boots," Nathaniel laughed.

"That
she doesna," Robbie protested with a grin. "I deny that wi' baith
hands and wi' a' my teeth."

The
path grew steeper and the bantering slowed and then stopped. In single file
they made their way through the darkened strawberry fields, the heavy smell of
overripe fruit following them back into the forest. He heard Elizabeth draw in
a small hiccup, the sound she made when she was struggling not to be sick.
Strong smells roused her stomach, these days, and the sickly sweet stink of an
acre of fermenting strawberries was enough to set his own stomach on edge. He
increased his pace to put the place behind them, and when he paused to look
back he could see that the crisis had passed.

At
the place where the path left the woods and came out near the cliff face,
Nathaniel stopped to listen. Cupping a hand at his mouth, he sent out the
poor—will's rolling call:
purple rib!
purple rib!
He waited, and then repeated it.

The
call came back, and he relaxed. Behind him, he heard Robbie let out his breath,
too.

Elizabeth
was
at his elbow.

"Look."
She made a sweep with her arm as if to lay out the whole world for him. When he
could make himself look away from her face he saw what she did: the moon was
rising, rolling up the long spine of the mountain just opposite them, the one
the Kahnyen’keháka called Wolf Walking.

"He
carries the moon on his back," Nathaniel told her. "Trying to take it
home to his young."

"How
many times have you come home to
Lake
in the
Clouds?" she asked, her gaze still fixed dreamily on the mottled silver
disk of the moon.

"A
thousand, and a thousand more," Nathaniel answered, tracing the line of
her cheek with one finger. "But never so willingly."

She
rewarded him with a smile. "Do you think Hannah will be surprised to see
us?"

"You
can ask her yourself," Nathaniel said. "I hear her coming now."

Treenie
was standing to attention, and she let out a soft woof. "Aye, loupin' like
a deer wi’ the hunter fast behind," Robbie noted.

There
was a rustling and then the forest broke, and she was there. Nathaniel opened
his arms and gathered up his daughter to him, her smile as bright and broad as
the rising moon.

* * *

Julian
Middleton sat down on the bench just inside the door to Axel Metzler's tavern
as if his energy had extended just so far and not step further.

The
place was almost empty. Axel sat on a stool dipping each of his small
collection of dented pewter tankards in a barrel of rainwater and handing them
to Ephraim, who dried them on a ragged piece of toweling.

"Come
set you by the hearth," Axel called.

"Cooler
here," Julian protested.

Axel
shrugged his shoulders. "Ja, sure. But it's a long walk to the cider
jug."

"A
man needs a little exercise now and then," Julian replied, stifling a
yawn. In the end Axel wiped his hands on his apron and poured a cup of ale,
sending it over with the boy, who peered at Julian hopefully from behind a
curtain of sleek brown hair.

"Such
industry deserves a reward." He reached with two fingers into his vest
pocket. Ephraim snatched the ha' penny out of the air with a grin and a nod.

Julian
had just settled in comfortably with his legs extended and his ankles crossed
when Liam Kirby came flying through the door, tripped on the highly polished
toe of Julian's right boot, and went sprawling headfirst toward the hearth. He
came to a stop with his chin on the brickwork, but he was up in a snap.

"Good
God," Julian said, examining his footgear for scratches. "So much
energy after so hot a day really is in very bad form, Kirby."

Normally
an excellent foil, Liam seemed not even to hear Julian's comment. Even his
freckles stood out in alarm. "They're back," he said, gasping for
air. "The teacher's back. I saw 'em headed up Hidden Wolf."

Axel
took his pipe from his mouth and thrust it in Julian's direction. "Do you
hear that, Middleton? Your sister and her husband are back."

"Yes,
I heard." Julian took the last swallow of his ale and held out the cup to
Ephraim again, who came forward to take it quite eagerly.

"And
Robbie MacLachlan with them," Liam yelped. "In a new canoe."

"Old
Rab!" Axel slapped his leg in appreciation. "Now there'll be some
fun, you'll see. Rab hasn't been down this way in a long time."

"Any
sign of Todd?" Julian asked the boy.

Liam
accepted a cup of ale from Axel and drank thirstily, the pale liquid dribbling
down his chin to stain his shirt. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand,
he shook his head. "Didn't see any.

"Ja,
well," said Axel, stumping to the door to look out into the night. "He
won't be far behind, the doctor. Or let's hope so, or Miz Kitty will make life
miserable for all of us."

Julian
buried his face in his cup, relieving himself of the necessary reply. He
wouldn't particularly care whether he ever saw Richard Todd again, if it
weren't for Kitty Witherspoon. If Todd didn't marry her, and soon, it was clear
to him where she would turn to resolve the problem that was growing underneath
her skirt. And not without cause; Julian had not been an eager student, but he
could count backward from nine on his fingers as well as any old crone. If
pressed, he couldn't deny that he was the responsible party; but then, no one
was pressing. And there was no need to step in, not if Todd was willing to take
over.