“How much money does my father owe you?”
“More than you possess,” he said dismissively.
“You are an arrogant, overblown boor—” Elizabeth began. This engendered a look of surprise from Nathaniel, one of shock from Mr. Schuyler, and a sudden shuffling from behind the closed doors. “And as such, sir, you have not the slightest idea of what I possess.”
Looking decidedly uncomfortable, Mr. Schuyler raised a hand. “It was a reasonable question,” he agreed. “How much money are you owed, man?”
“Three thousand,” said Richard. “Pounds.” And he threw Elizabeth a defiant look.
Mr. Schuyler let out a gasp of surprise. Elizabeth, herself unable to grasp what Richard was claiming, took Nathaniel’s arm.
“Over ten thousand dollars?” Mr. Schuyler said. “How could this be?”
“Not that I need to explain myself,” said Todd. “But the judge invested in a questionable land deal down in Ohio country. Against my better advice.”
Mr. Schuyler was looking at him closely. “Of course,” he said dryly. “Your better advice.” He shook his head. “Ten thousand dollars. That is hard to imagine.”
“Well, it’s true,” Richard flared. “And all the judge’s property together is worth perhaps three and a half. Our agreement—and you will see that it was a generous one on my part—was to take the first patent as full payment. Upon my marriage to his daughter. It was perhaps not completely equitable as far as my interests are concerned—” He paused, as if to let this insult sink in. “But it was the only way the judge would agree.”
Elizabeth felt very cold suddenly, thinking of what might have happened, the situation she might have been in, had she married this man. A wave of nausea washed over her. She felt Nathaniel’s firm grip on her arm, steadying her.
“This ain’t about Elizabeth, it’s about Hidden Wolf,” Nathaniel said.
Richard swung around to look at him. “Yes,” he said. “It is.”
“Hidden Wolf is no longer my father’s, and you cannot have it,” said Elizabeth. “Even if you sue him for nonpayment.”
“The court may think otherwise,” Richard said. “I’m sure they would be willing to hold off the transfer of property until the matter is cleared up, at any rate. And it could take a long time.”
Nathaniel was looking at Mr. Schuyler. “We have the money he’s owed.”
There was a strangled laugh from Richard. “You have ten thousand dollars?” he asked, incredulous. “Have you been robbing banks in addition to stealing young women from their families in the dead of night?”
Nathaniel’s hand closed hard on Elizabeth’s arm to keep her still.
“You and I are going to have a discussion about that mouth of yours,” he said slowly. “Someday soon. And when we do I expect you’ll be eager to make an apology.”
“We do have the funds,” Elizabeth said, directing herself to Mr. Schuyler. “From my aunt Merriweather.” It occurred to her now that the money bestowed so generously, which had yesterday seemed like a fortune, was not enough.
“Your aunt has gifted you only two thousand pounds, as I understand it,” Richard pointed out. “That leaves three and a half thousand dollars.”
Elizabeth’s head snapped up, and she felt herself drain of color. “Well, gentleman that you are, Dr. Todd, I see you do not scruple to open post addressed to another.”
“That was your father’s doing,” he said, not discomfited in the least.
“You are a scoundrel,” she said. “And a common thief.”
He smiled, and before she knew what she was doing, Elizabeth felt herself moving toward him. Nathaniel’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“We’ve got the rest of the funds,” he said to Mr. Schuyler.
“Oh,” drawled Richard. “The mythical Tory Gold?”
Nathaniel did not turn his attention away from Mr. Schuyler. “The money can be paid out today, in Albany.”
“Well, Todd,” said Mr. Schuyler. “It seems that there is a happy end to this tale, after all. Today you will receive the monies owed you—providing you can produce the notes, that is. Judge Middleton will retain that property which he has not deeded to his daughter, and the lands he gifted to her remain her own property, and her husband’s. And our business is settled.”
“No.” Richard shook his head, his smile disappearing. “Hidden Wolf was promised to me as part of the marriage contract, and I intend to sue for it.”
There was a pause in the room, a gathering tension that jumped from Richard to Nathaniel and back again. Elizabeth knew that she stood outside this flow of energy. They had come to the heart of the matter now.
“Give it up, man,” Mr. Schuyler said roughly. “Your chances are next to none, and you’ll do nothing but injure your own good name in the courts. And hers.”
“Good name?” laughed Richard. “She has no good name left to protect.”
Nathaniel had been holding Elizabeth back, but suddenly he was gone from her, moving forward in two powerful leaps, so quickly that she barely understood what was happening before his fist met Richard’s jaw with a dull cracking sound. Richard staggered and then caught himself. Elizabeth’s stomach turned over neatly and rose into her throat.
Mr. Schuyler stepped forward and pushed against Nathaniel’s shoulder, hard. “You forget yourself!” he shouted. “Think where you are, man! By God, I will put you both out if you do not control your tempers!”
Nathaniel was breathing hard. He looked away, and then back at Mr. Schuyler, dropping his head in a brief nod of acknowledgment.
Richard’s eyes flashed with a narrow satisfaction. His jaw was turning color quickly, and a trickle of blood stained his lip, but he grinned.
“Nathaniel Bonner, called Wolf-Running-Fast,” he said, his voice tight with menace. “Listen to me. I am going to Albany to file a breach of contract against this”—he swallowed hard—“lady of yours. And to that end, I insist that she accompany me there to face that charge, and to be questioned in this matter.”
“Never,” Nathaniel said. His voice, so low and reasonable, made Elizabeth’s hair stand on end. He glanced out the window, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. When he looked back, his face was impassive. “You have no power over us,” he said. “And I will warn you once, and only once. You will stay away from me and mine, and we will stay away from you. But if you can’t do that, if you ever lay a hand on my wife again or on any member of my family, I will kill you.”
Richard did not blink. “She will come and face the charges against her,” he said. “Or I’ll see that a bench warrant is issued.”
“Dr. Todd, you go too far,” Mr. Schuyler said, disgusted. He turned to Nathaniel. “Let me deal with the man,” he said. “Please take your wife upstairs.”
“Mr. Schuyler, I am not going to Albany with him,” said Elizabeth.
“Of course you are not. Of course not. Please, go up to your room now and I will sort this out.”
Elizabeth hesitated. Nathaniel took her arm, and she glanced up at him.
“Go on, now,” he said, opening the door for her. “I’ll be up directly.”
Mrs. Schuyler and her sons were in the hall with Runs-from-Bears, who stood with his rifle cradled in his arms. He exchanged a glance with Nathaniel and then followed Elizabeth upstairs, where he stood outside her door with his back to the wall.
She paced. She paced the room, alternately reading aunt Merriweather’s letter and then stopping to make calculations on a scrap of paper. In addition to the gift of seven thousand, they needed another three and a half thousand dollars, and they needed it today. She herself had about half that much in the Albany bank, her entire annual income from her mother’s small bequest. She thought that Nathaniel probably had the rest, given the offer to purchase he had made to her father. But she worked the numbers again and again and came out always at the same place: not enough money to pay off Richard, and pay the outstanding taxes on her own property, and her father
’s. They were at least five hundred dollars short.
It was an hour before he came to her, closing the door quietly behind him. She walked up to Nathaniel and put her arms around him, her head on his shoulder, trembling in anger and frustration.
“I had no idea,” she said. “That it was so very bad. Ten thousand five hundred dollars.”
He stroked her hair and said nothing.
“Tell me I don’t have to go to Albany.”
“You don’t have to go to Albany,” said Nathaniel. “But I do.”
She pulled away. “Then I’m coming, too.”
“No.” He smiled grimly. “No, you ain’t. I’m going with Schuyler and Todd because things would look bad if I weren’t there to represent your interests. As it is I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“Can he get Hidden Wolf?” she asked, barely able to control the tremble in her voice.
“I don’t think so. Neither does Schuyler. But we don’t know what tricks he’s got left yet, and I can’t ask Philip to handle this on his own.”
“Yes you can,” Elizabeth said, knowing that he could not, but unable to bear the idea of this.
He smiled, and stroked her hair.
“I don’t want you to go,” she said, feeling her chin tremble and wishing that she could stop it.
“I know that,” he said. “I don’t want to go, either. But this is bad business, Boots, and we’ve got to get it settled. Now, listen.”
He leaned forward and kissed her, quickly.
“Schuyler got him to agree to let you stay behind. Which is the right thing, because we don’t know who’s waiting down there in Albany to speak against you. Could be your brother—” He put a finger on her mouth to quiet her. “We ain’t talking about the truth here, we’re talking about how he can make things look.”
Nathaniel took her by the hand and led her over to the chair by the hearth, and he pushed her into it, gently, leaning down over her.
“Listen to me now. This is what he wants. He wants you to stay here, under house arrest, while we’re in Albany.”
“House arrest?” she asked, incredulous.
“He says he don’t trust you to stay put. Says that when it comes time for you to testify, he wants to be sure you’ll come forward.”
She was watching Nathaniel’s face, the play of his features, the way his eyes moved.
“I think that the minute we’re downriver, somebody’ll show up here at the door—the judge, most likely—and force you to come back to Paradise. Take you by force, if need be.”
Elizabeth lifted her chin. “I know how to fire a musket,” she said.
He did her the favor of not grinning. “Aye, well. That’s a good thing to know, under the circumstances.” He picked up both her hands and held them tight.
“You’re strong, and you’re brave enough for ten. All right. When we’re gone, Bears is going to stay behind. And at the first opportunity, he’ll give you a signal. You remember the birdcall up above the waterfall? When you hear that, you go on out for a walk. He’ll meet you behind the field where the men are sowing flax, near the mill. You can see it, there. Bears will take you into the bush, Boots, and you’ll have to walk hard and fast to keep up with him. But he’ll keep you safe, as long as you listen to him and do what he says.”
Nathaniel’s hands were warm and full of energy in her own. Elizabeth held on to him tightly.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To Robbie,” he said. “Up near the lake the Kahnyen’kehàka call Little Lost.”
“Robbie?”
“Robbie MacLachlan,” Nathaniel said. “Listen, Boots. I ain’t got much time here. They’re waiting on me. There’s nobody in this world more disposed to look after you and keep you safe for me than Bears and Robbie MacLachlan.”
Elizabeth leaned forward and kissed him, hard, catching his face between her hands, feeling the bristle on his cheeks against her palms.
“Are you scairt?” he asked, his hands on her upper arms, holding tight.
“Yes.”
“Good,” said Nathaniel. “You need that, hold on to it.”
He started to pull away, but she grabbed his shirt and held him.
“When will you come?” she asked.
“I hope it won’t be more than a week,” he said. “But I can’t promise it won’t be more.”
Nathaniel pulled her up with him from the chair and kissed her soundly. “You know I’ll be there as soon as I can. We got that demonstration left unfinished, after all.”
She nodded, her mouth pressed into a hard line, her eyes glittering.
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her ring; then he smiled and was gone.
From the window, Elizabeth watched him walking down the lawn toward the river where the canoes waited. She could see the party gathered there, Mr. and Mrs. Schuyler, Anton Meerschaum, and Richard Todd. There was no sign of Bears, but she knew he would be outside her door.
Unable to watch anymore, she turned away and caught sight of the scrap of paper with her calculations. She grabbed it, along with aunt Merriweather’s letter, and flew down the stairs with Runs-from-Bears right behind her. Her skirt fluttered as she ran across the lawns, her heart beating in her throat so that she feared she would not be able to speak even if she could catch them.
But they were still there, standing in front of the canoes. Nathaniel looked up to her and his face first cleared of anger and then closed in worry.
Richard Todd turned to Mrs. Schuyler. “She’s to stay in the house.”
Even in her distraction, Elizabeth took note of Mrs. Schuyler’s expression, the combination of condescension and righteous indignation. “Mrs. Bonner is our guest,” she said. “Not a prisoner. And she has the freedom of Saratoga while she is with us.
Richard cleared his throat and looked away. “As long as she’s here when the court calls on her.”
“If such a thing should be necessary,” Mrs. Schuyler said tightly. “Which I doubt.”
“Mr. Schuyler, you are an officer of the bank in Albany?” asked Elizabeth, ignoring Richard. When he nodded, she continued. “I have funds there, and I release them to my husband for withdrawal as he sees fit. This will be in order?”
“It will.” His dark eyes were hooded again, but he smiled at her.
“Thank you.” She turned to Nathaniel and tugged on his arm, to pull him off to where they could not be heard. Then she put the papers in his hand, aunt Merriweather’s letter and her calculations. She pointed to one set of figures and then another, and looked up at him.
“There’s not enough!” she whispered.
“I’ll manage,” he said. “Don’t worry yourself, Boots.” He pulled her further aside. “There’s the furs, don’t forget.”
“Then there’ll be no money for supplies,” she countered.
Nathaniel looked over her shoulder to where Richard waited. Runs-from-Bears stood to one side, alert.
“There’s money enough,” he said. “Leave this to me, can you?”
She nodded then, and because he was so close and because she could not do otherwise, in spite of their audience, in spite of the danger, she kissed him. Put her hands on his shoulders and went up on her toes to kiss Nathaniel, to show him what she couldn’t say, didn’t know how to say: how much the idea of his going hurt, how proud she was of him, how much she loved him, that she would miss him. She was crying, because she didn’t know how not to. Her tears wet his cheeks.
She let him go and wiped his face with her fingers. Then Elizabeth looked up over his shoulder and saw how close Richard was, how his mouth twisted with disgust. And at his elbow, Runs-from-Bears with a hand on the shaft of his tomahawk.
“You’ll have enough of him sooner than you think,” Richard said when she met his gaze. “Sarah did, and so will you.”
Everything in Nathaniel stilled. Elizabeth felt this, the way all his focus came down, small and tight, on the sound of Richard’s voice behind him.
&
nbsp; “Think, man,” he said without turning. “Think what you’re doing.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Richard said, not taking his eyes from Elizabeth. “I’m telling your wife what she needs to know. Being so fond of children as she is.”
“What is he talking about?” Elizabeth asked, frightened.
“I’m talking about the fact that he can’t give you children. Has he told you that?”
Elizabeth glanced up at Nathaniel and saw that he had gone away inside himself, his face a mask.
“Nathaniel?”
“You see on his face that it’s true.”
“Hannah,” she said. “There’s Hannah.”
“Hannah’s mine,” said Richard.
“Nathaniel?” She touched his face, and he seemed to come back to life. He took her hand, and pulled her farther away from Richard.
“Go now,” he whispered. “Remember to wait for the sign from Bears.”
“I don’t understand—” she began.
“Elizabeth,” he said. “It would take too long now. Do you trust me?” She nodded.
“Then believe me. Hannah is my daughter. I will answer your questions when I come to you, anything you care to ask me. Will you wait for that? Can you?”
Once again, Elizabeth nodded, but slowly.
“I love you,” he said against her mouth. And he walked away from her down to the river.
Elizabeth turned back to the house and after a few yards Runs-from-Bears fell into step beside her. She heard the splash on the canoe as it entered the river, but she never looked back.
XXVII
The most remarkable thing about Runs-from-Bears, Elizabeth came to believe, was not the contrast between his ferocious appearance and his dry good humor, but his willingness to talk. She had been very quiet on the first day because it seemed appropriate to be silent in the infinity of these forests, unlike anything she had ever experienced or imagined. And she had thought that Bears would have little to say to her; she was shy of him, and worried that she wouldn’t be able to meet his expectations.
And when they had finally made camp, Elizabeth had not really wanted conversation, tired as she was. It was then, sitting before the little fire and turning the cleaned possum on its spit of green wood, that she had found out that Runs-from-Bears was almost as curious about her as she was about him, and that he had things to teach her.