Sweetbriar

  Almost instantly a woman appeared—at least it seemed so to Linnet as she stirred from her drowsy state. The woman was tall, pink-cheeked, with a man’s coat thrown over her nightgown. Her cleanness made Linnet feel even dirtier.

  “Mac, what is Gaylon trying to tell me?”

  Linnet rose. “I’m afraid I’m the cause of all the problems. Devon rescued me from some Indians, and now I fear I’m to be a burden on all of you.”

  Agnes smiled fondly at the dirty girl while Devon and Gaylon exchanged looks.

  “She hasn’t had much sleep or food in the last few days and she’s been through a pretty rough time,” Devon explained.

  “From the looks of her, I’d say you was makin’ light of what’s happened to her. I’ll just take her home with me. What’s your name?”

  “It’s Linnet Blanche Tyler,” Devon said and grinned. “Watch her or she’ll be runnin’ your whole house before too long.”

  Linnet looked down at her feet in confusion.

  “Come along, Linnet, and pay no mind to these men. Would you rather sleep first or eat?”

  “I’d like to bathe.”

  “I can understand why.” Agnes laughed.

  Hours later Linnet slipped beneath the bed covers, her hair and body finally clean, scoured until Agnes had made her stop. She’d eaten four fried eggs and two huge pieces of toasted bread, coated with sweet, creamy butter. Now she lay in a clean nightgown, miles too long for her, and slept.

  When Linnet woke, the house was still, but she knew it was late in the morning. Stretching, she touched her hair to reassure herself it was still clean and left the bed to crawl to the edge of the loft and look down. The door opened and Agnes came in.

  “So, you’re awake. All of Sweetbriar’s dying to see what Mac brought home. I been to the Tuckers’, and their Caroline lent me a clean dress for you. Come down and we’ll see how it fits.”

  Linnet backed down the ladder, holding the long gown up.

  Agnes held the dress up to her. “Just as I thought, I’ll have to let it out in the bosom. You sit there and eat while I take a few stitches. Won’t take me but a minute.”

  Linnet ate cornmeal cakes, bacon and honey while Agnes sewed on the calico dress.

  “There now. All done. Let’s see what we have.” After she’d helped Linnet dress, she smiled at her. “I think Mac’s gonna be real surprised when he sees what he brought home.”

  “Do I really look so different?”

  “Honey, a doll made out of tar—a tar baby—wasn’t any uglier or blacker than what Mac showed me last night. Let me brush your hair.”

  “Agnes, you don’t have to do all this. Please, let me help you in some way.”

  “You done said your thanks too many times last night. I’ve never had a daughter, and so it pleasures me to be able to do this.” She stepped back, admiring her handiwork. Linnet’s hair cascaded in heavy locks down her back, a deep gold color with streaks of lighter hair, even a hint of red. Thick, dark lashes over big, odd-colored eyes made a person want to stare and stare just to try and find out what color they were.

  Agnes looked at Linnet’s trim, shapely figure in the snug dress. “You’re sure gonna give Corinne a run for her money.”

  “Corinne?”

  “She’s the Starks’ oldest daughter, been after Mac since she was twelve, and now that she’s about to get him, somethin’ like you comes along.”

  “Mac? Oh, Devon. Didn’t he tell you that he brought me here to teach him to read?”

  “Devon, is it? Well, I could have taught him…Never mind. Let’s get goin’. I can’t wait to see Mac’s face.”

  Agnes Emerson’s house was about a mile from the clearing that contained Devon’s trading post and the other buildings, and there were people, mostly children, every few yards, all anxious to look at the girl Mac had brought with him. They’d heard his stories all morning, greatly colored by Gaylon’s exaggerations.

  “She don’t look like what Mac said,” a voice came from behind Linnet.

  She turned to see a boy, about seven, with a dirty face and a long piece of string trailing from his pocket. “And what did he say?” she asked.

  “Said you was the bravest woman he’d ever seen.”

  Linnet smiled. “He doesn’t know me very well. I was just too scared to make any noise. I imagine you’d like to hear about his fight with Spotted Wolf.”

  “Mac fought an Indian?”

  “He certainly did.”

  “How come you talk so funny?”

  “I’m from England.”

  “Oh, well, I gotta go. See ya.”

  Agnes put her arm around Linnet. “Let’s go, and you all stop starin’ at her like she was some kind of freak,” she said to the children who still watched. “Let’s go show you to Mac.”

  The log house was large, L-shaped, and Linnet wondered that she hadn’t realized that it was some sort of store when she had seen it before. Devon was standing with his back to her, talking to a pretty, dark-haired girl with an incredibly voluptuous figure.

  The girl stopped in mid-sentence and stared at Agnes and Linnet in the doorway. Devon turned and looked at her, his eyes widening.

  “Well, ain’t you gonna say somethin’? Some difference from that smelly heap of rags you gave me last night.” Agnes’ eyes sparkled.

  Devon couldn’t speak. Linnet was pretty, very, very pretty with a delicate little face that held enormous eyes, a tiny nose and soft lips that curved now into a slight smile. He didn’t know why he felt betrayed, but he did. Why didn’t she tell him she was so damned good-looking? he thought in an unjust burst of anger. Maybe not tell, but at least warn him.

  “I think you’ve knocked his voice out. This here’s Corinne Stark and she’s often here at Mac’s store.” Agnes’ voice told everyone what she thought of Corinne’s forwardness.

  Devon looked away from the women to a big table piled high with furs. “Agnes, why don’t you take her over to Old Luke’s cabin? I figure she can stay there after it’s cleaned.”

  Linnet looked in question to Agnes, wondering what she had done to cause Devon to shun her as he was doing, but Agnes kept her eyes on Devon’s back.

  “I got too much work to do at my own place. You take her and show her Old Luke’s place.”

  Corinne smiled, turning to look at Devon. “I’ll go with you, Mac.”

  Agnes gave a cool smile to Corinne. “To tell the truth, Corinne, honey, I been needin’ help with a new quilt pattern your ma lent me, and she said you’d be the very one to help me.”

  “I can do that anytime.” The girl’s eyes were cold.

  Agnes gave her a piercing look. “Well, I ain’t as free as you with my time, and I need you this mornin’.”

  Corinne gave a pouty look of defeat, cast one more glance at Devon and followed Agnes out of the store, avoiding Linnet altogether.

  They were alone together, silent, Devon still with his back to her. She walked closer to him. “Devon?”

  He turned and glared at a spot somewhere above her head. “If we’re gonna see the cabin we’d best go now. I got work to do.” He left the store, walking quickly, ignoring Linnet as she tried hard to keep pace with his long strides.

  Chapter Three

  THE CABIN WAS A MESS. IT STOOD A FEW YARDS from Devon’s store, sunlight pouring through a hole in the roof, chickens roosting on the stones of the fireplace, flying squirrels scurrying out the open windows. Devon shooed the chickens out, their wings raising the dust. “Here it is. It ain’t much, but it could be livable with a little hard work. You ain’t afraid of a little hard work, are you, English lady that you are?”

  She smiled up at him and he thought of their two nights alone on the trail. It’s a good thing she didn’t look like she does now, he thought. He looked away.

  “Devon, are you angry with me?”

  “Why should I be ‘angry’ with you? What reason could you give me for being mad at you? I hear even Jessie Tucker likes you, and that kid don?
??t like any women. No, there couldn’t be any reason for being mad at you.” He sat on a bench, dust flying.

  She blinked at him several times. “How’s your arm?”

  “My arm’s just perfect.”

  “Would you like me to look at it?”

  “I don’t need any motherin’, especially from…”

  She looked away from him, unable to see any reason for his anger and not a little hurt by it.

  Devon studied the toe of one boot, mad at himself for acting the way he was, which made him even madder at her for making him mad. “Damn!” he said aloud.

  “Pardon?”

  He looked around the filthy cabin. “What you plannin’ to eat here? Did you think of that?”

  “No, I haven’t. I really haven’t had time to think of anything. It seems everyone has taken care of me for so long. First you and then Agnes. Of course, you told Agnes—”

  He interrupted her. “Well, as I recall, our deal was that if I took you away from Crazy Bear’s men, you’d teach me to read, and now I’ve thrown in this cabin, but I ain’t gonna feed and clothe you, too.”

  “I don’t expect you to. You’ve done far too much already.”

  He watched the sunlight coming through the open window, dust-filled, circling around her, those big eyes gazing at him, accepting that he just might let her starve, never asking for more from him or anyone else than they were prepared to give.

  She smiled, eyes sparkling through the sunlit halo. “Who cooks for you, Devon?”

  He was startled back to the present reality. “Gaylon, if you can call it that. Sometimes the women around here take pity on me and invite me to supper.”

  “I’ll make a bargain with you.”

  “What do you have to bargain with? Even the dress you’re wearing is borrowed.” Involuntarily, his eyes went downward and he knew that dress had never looked like that on anyone else.

  “I can cook. If you furnish the food, I’ll cook for you, and if you supply cloth and thread, I’ll make you new shirts and myself two dresses. Does that seem fair?”

  More than fair, he thought. “Who’s gonna take care of your firewood?”

  “I can. I’m strong.”

  She looked anything but strong. Shaking his head, he grinned at her. “I’ll bet you could walk through a pile of manure and come out smelling like roses.”

  She returned his smile. “From what everyone said of how I looked the last few days, I think I’ve done just that.” She put both hands to her head. “It feels wonderful to be clean again, with clean clothes.” She smoothed the faded cotton skirt. “You didn’t say, Devon. Do I look all right? Were you surprised that I didn’t look like a tar baby anymore? That’s what Agnes said I was.”

  She was standing a few feet from him, and as she pulled a fat strand of hair away from her head, little flyaway pieces glittered in the sun. “It’s so nice to touch my hair and not get my hands dirty.”

  He couldn’t help himself as he extended a brown hand and touched her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “I never would have thought it was yellow. It was so black before.” He dropped the silken stuff immediately, but looking at her face, he saw she smiled at him and he wasn’t angry anymore. “Linnet, I never would of guessed you were the same girl as that smelly, black lump I found in that grass shack. Now that that’s all done, let’s get this place clean.”

  “Oh no!” she said quickly. “Now that we have all the business settled we can go after the children.”

  Mac wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. “Children?”

  “The children Crazy Bear took, of course. We can’t just leave them there.”

  “Now wait a minute! You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. We’ve learned here that we let the Indians alone and they leave us in peace.”

  “Peace!” she gasped. “They killed my parents and now they have the children. I can’t possibly leave them there. They have to be returned to their people.”

  “You! You can’t leave them there? Have you forgotten what they were plannin’ to do to you?”

  “No,” she said softly, swallowing. “But I also remember seeing my parents’ blood. The children can’t be raised like that!”

  He stepped closer to her. “Listen to me, woman! Those children will be given good homes and there’s nothing wrong with bein’ raised an Indian. As for you, our bargain was for you to teach me how to read. I’ve risked my life for one stranger and I won’t risk it again for a bunch of strangers’ kids.” He turned to leave.

  “If you’ll lend me a rifle and a horse, I’ll go. I’m an excellent shot. I’ve hunted game in Scotland and—”

  He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind and left the cabin.

  Linnet stood still for a moment, not sure what to do, but with a sigh she started cleaning. This was an argument she meant to win, but perhaps it would take a while. She didn’t believe the Indians would harm the children, but she knew the children must go back to their own people.

  “I see the dress fits,” a young girl said from the doorway. She was about fourteen, small like Linnet, freckle-faced and plain.

  Linnet smiled at her. “Thank you for the loan, but I’m afraid it’s going to get dirty today. I’m Linnet Tyler.” She held out her hand to the girl, who blinked in surprise for a moment, then grinned and shook the offered hand.

  “I’m Caroline Tucker.”

  “Tucker? I think I met your brother this morning.”

  “You must mean Jessie. He’s been talkin’ about you. Can I help?”

  “Oh no. I’m just going to clean this place a bit. This is my home,” she added proudly.

  Caroline looked past to her to the ramshackle cabin and doubted if it could ever be made livable. “Well, I ain’t got nothin’ else to do,” she said as she grabbed one end of the bench Linnet was trying to push outside.

  The next people to appear were the eight-year-old Stark twins, Eubrown and Lissie, their identical brown braids flying, their pug noses twitching in curiosity to meet Mac’s girl. Mac’s girl she was if Mrs. Emerson was to be believed. Corinne was fit to be tied!

  Word spread about Sweetbriar that Linnet was pretty, and soon most of the young men found excuses to drop by the workers at Old Luke’s place. Linnet left them to fetch another bucket of water from the spring about a hundred yards from the cabins. She halted in her crouched position when she saw two feet near her and hadn’t heard anyone approach. Swift memories of the Indians, the last sight of her mother that she had buried so deep, made her heart race. She looked up but could see little of the man’s face, the sun behind his shoulder blocking her view.

  She stood. “Hello, I’m Linnet Tyler.” She put out her hand as he gaped at her, speechless, his mouth open a bit. He was hardly more than a boy, thick, well-muscled, coarse brown hair that stood out around his head, a mouth too wide to make his face handsome, but, still, a pleasant looking young man.

  “You’re the girl Mac brought back,” he stated flatly, a nice voice.

  “Yes, I am and you are?” She still had her hand extended.

  “Worth, ma’am, Worth Jamieson. I live on a farm about five miles out. I just came to the store today.”

  She took his right hand from where it lay at his side and shook it. “I am happy to meet you, Mr. Jamieson.”

  “Just Worth, ma’am.”

  Linnet had a difficult time adjusting to the way all Americans insisted upon using Christian names immediately.

  “You living in Old Luke’s cabin?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Here, let me take that. You’re too little to carry anything so heavy.” He took the full bucket of water from her.

  She smiled at him. “Thank you. I don’t know why everyone seems to think I’m so helpless but I have to admit I find it a pleasure.”

  “Miss Linnet, you are the prettiest thing I have ever seen.”

  She laughed. “I thank you not only for your kind help but your flattery also. Now, let me take that. I have a fl
oor that needs scouring.”

  Worth wouldn’t relinquish the bucket but took it inside with him and set it on the floor, looked about for a minute, then went outside. Moments later, Linnet looked in astonishment to see him on the roof repairing the hole. Smiling, she waved at him before returning to the filthy floor.

  “Hey, Mac. You seen what’s goin’ on over at that little girl’s cabin? She’s got the whole town over there helpin’ her,” Doll Stark called from his favorite seat in front of the now-empty fireplace.

  “Yeah, I seen it,” Devon’s reluctant answer came from across the store.

  Gaylon stopped his knife from the stick he was slowly reducing to nothing. “She’s even got Worth Jamieson up on the roof.”

  “Worth?” Doll asked. “Why, that boy’s skittish as a three-day-old colt. How’d she get him to even look at her, much less get him to work?”

  Gaylon resumed whittling. “She’s got a way with her all right. Even ol’ Mac here fought one of Crazy Bear’s renegades to save her from the Indians, and I can tell you what he saw then weren’t no sweet-smelling thing like she is this mornin’.”

  “Can’t you two find nothin’ else to talk about ’cept Linnet?” Mac asked from behind the counter, an open ledger before him.

  Gaylon and Doll exchanged looks, eyebrows raised, mouths pulled down.

  “We could always talk about the weather, but ain’t half so interestin’ as that little gal you brung home,” Gaylon continued.

  “Hey, Mac, you better put your brand on her afore Cord comes back.”

  “Cord?” Devon asked, stupidly.

  “Yeah, Cord,” Gaylon said. “You heard of him, ain’t you? That boy that took the little Trulock gal from you last winter.”

  “That ain’t the way I remember it, and just because I brought Linnet back here, don’t mean she belongs to me.”

  Doll’s mouth twitched at the corners. “Sure don’t. Not the way she’s got every man from seven to seventy sniffing around her.”

  Devon slammed the book shut. “Since you two don’t seem to have anythin’ else to do, why don’t you join them?”