Authors: Norah Hess
Mountain Rose (31 page)
She turned from the window and went into the parlor where the baby's cradle was placed each evening. It was quiet in there, and close enough to Raegan and Chase's bedroom so that they could hear him should he cry in the night. She bent over the fist-waving infant and lifted him from his warm coccoon of blankets. She carried him into the kitchen and laid him down on one side of the table. As she had prophesied, Boy was wet through. By the time she had changed him, his lusty cries had rung throughout the cabin. "If chiefs are chosen by the strength of their voices, it's a sure thing that you'll be one when you grow up," she muttered, wrapping the baby brave in a clean, dry blanket. "Star, would you ..." She was talking to an empty room. No one stayed around if they didn't have to when Boy let it be known he was hungry. Even Granny took to her room.
Sitting down in the rocker that had been brought into the kitchen for the sole purpose of feeding the baby, Raegan picked up the bottle Star had prepared and left sitting on the table. Boy's little mouth opened eagerly to receive the doeskin nipple. With a tender smile curving her lips, Raegan watched the little cheeks go in and out, the tiny mouth working to draw the milk in. "Wouldn't your father be proud if he knew about you?" She stroked a fat little cheek.
Raegan suddenly stopped rocking. Why hadn't she thought of it before? Right here in her lap might lie the solution to all their troubles. If she took Boy across the river, to his father, and told the man how Roscoe was responsible for the stealing of his wife and how she had died giving birth to his son in Raegan Donlin's cabin, wouldn't that man be grateful? That at least he had a son, and that she had brought that son to him? Wouldn't that prove to the chief that the people of Big Pine were peaceful people, wishing no harm to the red man. Surely they had a Roscoe among them too and would understand.
"It will work, I know it will," she whispered confidently.
But how was she to get away from Jamie? She chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. He would never allow her to leave the cabin alone, and he was seldom out of the cabin and only for a few minutes at that. Star would loudly object to her plan, too, but she could handle her. Besides, someone should know where she was going in case her plan didn't work. "But it will," she told herself, then set to wondering if she could convince Jamie that she needed something badly from the village store.
Her mind ran down a list of items that might send Jamie to Big Pine. Everything she thought of she had to reject. It seemed there wasn't a thing that they couldn't do without. The bottle grew light in her hand, and looking down, she found the baby fast asleep, the bottle empty. It struck her then that the one thing that would send Jamie to the village was canned milk for Boy's bottle.
She leaned her head back and laid her plans. She must go to the cellar and hide all but one can of the four sitting on a shelf there. She would need to fill a bottle to take with her. Next she would gather up Boy's clothes and stuff them into a pillowcase and hide it under the bed until she was ready to leave.
Having thought it all through, Raegan forced herself to calm down, to hide her excitement. She must carry on with her usual routine, and that began with her making the beds while Star cleaned the kitchen. She stopped the rocker with a drag of her foot, rose, and carried the sleeping infant into the bedroom. Before she made up the bed, she gathered up his clothes and put them in a pillowcase, telling herself it was lucky she had washed all his things the day before. She wanted the baby's father to see that she had been taking very good care of his son.
Raegan had finished with the three bedrooms and was dusting the last piece of furniture in the parlor, a chair-side table, when she heard Jamie enter the kitchen. The palms of her hands grew damp with nervous sweat. Could she convincingly tell him her lie? She must. The lives of the people in Big Pine might hinge on what she planned to do today.
Jamie and Star paid no attention to her as she entered the kitchen and walked across the floor to open the trap door. She went down the steps and made her way through the dimness to where the cans of milk sat beside a pail of gourds. For a moment she wondered where to hide the tins, then decided that a good place would be behind the big flat rock where she kept her butter and eggs.
After making sure they were well out of sight, she picked up a ham hock. Balancing it on her arm, with the can of milk she intended to take with her in her hand, she climbed the cellar steps. Lowering the trap door, she forced herself to say calmly, "I'm afraid you'll have to make a trip to the village, Jamie. We're out of Boy's milk."
"Are you sure, Raegan?" Star looked up at her. "I'd have sworn there were at least four cans left when I brought up one yesterday."
"Well, I guess you were mistaken." Raegan set the can on the table and added, "This is it," then waited with held breath for Jamie's response.
Finally, after several tense moments, he expelled his breath on a frustrated sigh, and with a note of misgiving in his voice, said, "I guess there's nothin' to do but go get the little scutter some milk. I'll be glad when he can chew on a piece of meat."
As Raegan let her pent-up breath escape softly through her lips, he ordered, "Keep the cabin locked and don't open it to anybody until I get back. And keep the rifles loaded and next to the door. I won't waste any time goin' to the village and should be back in an hour or so."
As Star locked the door behind Jamie, Raegan hurried to the bedroom. She didn't have much time. She must be well away from here before Jamie returned, or he might catch up with her and bring her back. She worked swiftly, slipping the sleeping baby into the heavy sweater and leggings she had finished knitting only last week. She swung her shawl around her shoulders, tied it under her chin, and with the pillowcase in one hand and Boy in her arms, she walked into the kitchen.
Star stood at the table, preparing the baby's next bottle. She looked up at Raegan's entrance and gaped. "You're dressed to go outside, Raegan, and takin' Boy with you. You shouldn't do that. You heard what Jamie said."
"Shhh, keep your voice down before you wake Granny. And yes, I heard what Jamie said. He said keep the door locked and the rifles loaded. He said nothing about us going outside." She took the sling Jamie had made for Boy off the wall. She would carry the infant on her back, Indian style, leaving her hands free to grip Beauty's reins.
"Raegan." Star frowned at her. "You know as well as I do that Jamie doesn't want you leavin' the cabin even if he didn't say so."
Raegan sighed. "I know that, Star, but I'm going to try something that I hope will bring an end to this worrisome upheaval we've been living in. I'm taking Boy to his father."
Star's mouth dropped open. "Raegan, you're crazy. Chase is gonna have a ragin' fit, you know that. And what if you never make it to the baby's father? What if a Tillamook kills you before you get to the Indian village?"
"Boy will be my safe passage," Raegan answered, praying that it was so. There was the possibility that she wouldn't get the chance to explain why she was on Tillamook land, carrying an Indian child. But she had to take that chance, she told herself. She eased the sleeping baby into the sling and lowered him over her back. She fastened the ties under her breasts, then picked up his bottle and slid it into the pocket of her dress.
She walked to the door, and picking up her rifle leaning on the wall there, she smiled at Star. "Come give me a hand saddling Beauty."
"Oh, Raegan, I wish you wouldn't." Star wrung her hands. "I have bad feelins' about this."
"Don't, honey. It's going to be all right. I'll be back before you know it, and all will be well."
Ten minutes later, Raegan was waving goodbye to a pale-faced, Star. "Be sure to lock the door," she called back as the mare entered the forest, traveling in the opposite direction from the way Jamie had taken.
The autumn morning was clear and cold, the sun shining frostily on the trees, as Raegan kept the mare at a lope. Boy's little body was limp with sleep, cuddled against her back.
She was going to miss him dreadfully, Raegan thought, then laid a gentle hand on her belly. Her own baby would fill the gap left by the little Indian prince.
She had been riding for two hours when she spotted Sid and Ruthie Johnson's fur post in the distance. She steered Beauty off the trail and pushed farther into the pine forest. Sid had gone with Chase and the others to find Roscoe, but Ruthie was no Star. If she thought it necessary, the Indian woman was capable of physically detaining Raegan from her errand.
When she felt she was safely past the post, she guided the mare back onto the trail. If she remembered correctly, another half mile would bring her to the Platte.
It grew so quiet that even the mare's hooves made no noise on the needle-strewn ground. Raegan shivered. It felt as though the trees were pressing in on her, smothering her. She wished suddenly that Lobo was with her. He hadn't been around the cabin when she left.
She forgot the wolf as all at once the Platte lay before her, murmuring, slapping at its banks. Her nerves twisted into knots as she gazed across the river to where the foothills trooped down to the stream. Somewhere in that seemingly impenetrable forest lay the Tillamook village.
Doubts began to assail her. Would it be that simple? Would she be able to just hand Boy over, explain about him and his mother, and then leave? For the first time, she wondered at the wisdom of her big plan. Jamie had said once that nothing was ever that simple, that cut-and-dried with the Indian. Every event that happened in his life had to be weighed, thought out, debated.
Perhaps it would be different this time, she hoped. After all, wasn't she bringing the chief a son? She nudged Beauty with a heel, steering her into the river. It was shallow at this point, and Beauty had no trouble picking her way across. When she stepped onto the gravelly bank, Raegan reined her in.
Now, which way should she go? Somehow she had expected to find a trail leading off through the forest, one that would lead her to the Tillamook village. But the narrow width of land that lay between the forest and the river was smooth and untrampled.
Where
did
I get the idea that the village lay within sight of the river? she asked herself, wondering whether to turn Beauty left or right. It could be miles into the forest and she might not ever find it. What if she became lost, and she and the baby starved to death—or worse, were eaten by wild animals? The woods were full of wolves, panthers, and bears.
Her courage began to fail her. It had been a foolish notion she'd had. As much as she hated to abandon her plan, for she still thought her idea was a good one, the sensible thing to do was return home.
With a resigned expression, she started to turn Beauty around, back into the river. Then something made her pause. There were eyes watching her. She knew it—she could feel them boring into her, hostile and vengeful. It had to be an Indian. No white man would be on this side of the river.
Tension tied her stomach in knots. Should she make a run for it? No, she shouldn't. What if Boy got an arrow in his little back? After all, the Tillamooks wouldn't know that it was one of their own slung over a white woman's back. It's too late to do anything now, she thought, hearing the thud of unshod hooves approaching her.
When a wiry little mustang moved out from among the trees, the blood drained from Raegan's face. On the pony's back sat a fierce-eyed Indian. She yelped in alarm when he rode up beside her and grabbed Beauty's bit.
"Why has white woman traveled into Tillamook land?" His guttural voice made the hairs stand up on Raegan's arms, but at least he spoke English.
For a moment her terrified mind went blank. She could only stare at the dark, scowling visage only a few feet from her own. Then Boy whimpered, and though she was trembling inside, she forced herself to face the brave unflinchingly. She had heard that Indians respected courage.
"I have come to speak to your chief about something very important—to both the red man and the white."
"Are the pale-face men so cowardly they send a woman to fight for them?"
Raegan frowned and her chin came up. "They're not aware that I am here. Most of the men are away, tracking down a man who has brought great trouble to our people."
The Indian studied her pale face, his expression giving no hint of what was in his mind. "This man they seek, what is his crime that makes your people hunt him?"
Raegan licked her dry lips. "I would rather tell the chief. There are other things I would tell him . . . and show him."
She was subjected to another penetrating stare, then the Indian spoke. "I am the chief of our people. Speak."
Raegan's eyes widened a fraction. He didn't look like what she imagined a chief would. In the first place, he seemed too young—probably only in his mid-thirties. And where was the long, feathered headdress and colorful robe she'd seen
in pictures? This man wore simple buckskins.
"How do I know you speak the truth?" she demanded.
"I have said so." His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Giving it a cruel twist, he repeated, "Speak."
"All right!" Raegan's eyes shot anger at him as she wondered if the bones in her wrist were crushed. When he released her, she continued, "Last March, a fat man, known only as Roscoe, stole one of your women—your wife, I learned later. The people of Big Pine were very angry at what he'd done and chased him out of the area, hoping to avoid trouble with your people."
She sighed. "As you know, it didn't work."
The chief ignored her almost accusing remark. "How did you learn that Shy One is my wife?"
Raegan looked down at her white knuckles gripping the reins. What would this stern-faced man do to her when he learned that his wife was dead? Would he immediately cut her throat with that wicked-looking knife tucked in the top of his fringed trousers?
She swallowed, then lifted her head and explained as gently as she could how on that August night she had found his wife in her barn, how she had later delivered her of a son. She didn't think it would be wise to let this proud man know that a man had brought his flesh into the world.
His big body jerked when she told how his wife had died after giving birth, but his face remained stolid. And only a flicker of relief shone in his black eyes when she related how she and a friend had entombed Shy One's body in two canoes, pointing their prows west. "I will take you to the place if you like."
As though he hadn't heard her offer, he asked, "This son Shy One birthed, is he a half-breed?"
Raegan's lips tilted softly as she untied the strings that held Boy's sling. She carefully pulled the infant around to lie in her lap. Folding back the blanket that protected his face from the cold air, she looked up at his father.
