Into the Wilderness

  Nearby, Archie Cunningham was trimming his fingernails with a hunting knife, flicking the parings alternately into the fire and at young Liam Kirby’s ears. Curled almost double over the draughts board, Liam took no notice. His brother Billy sat opposite with his back to Elizabeth, talking to a trapper Elizabeth did not recognize while he waited for Liam to make his move.

  Liam stuck out a grubby finger to move his game piece, looked up, and jumped at the sight of her. His left hand flew up toward his cap, catching the corner of the board and upending it with a smack. Red and black game pieces went skittering over the floor.

  “You goddamn puppy,” said Billy in a conversational tone. At that moment he caught sight of Elizabeth, and his mouth snapped shut.

  Moses Southern hawked, a long, dragging sound, and then without looking away from her, sent a stream of tobacco into the bucket that served as a spittoon.

  “I’ll warn you once more, Southern,” Anna said, bringing her head out of the cubbyhole. “A drop of that mess on my clean floor and you’ll mop it up yourself.”

  “Hello, Anna,” Elizabeth said.

  “Well, Elizabeth! About time you showed your face.” Anna leaned over the counter to give Charlie LeBlanc a good-natured slap on the crown of his head.

  “Take your eyes off my candy jar and say how-do, Charlie. That’s Mrs. Bonner come in, the one you made moon eyes at all winter. If you ever thought to come to church you would have had the chance to welcome her home last Sunday.”

  The young man flushed a deep red and flashed a reluctant grin in Elizabeth’s direction, so that the newest gap in his teeth became evident. “Miz Elizabeth.” He bobbed his head.

  “It’s good to see you, Charlie.”

  As if they had been woken from a trance, many of the other men tipped their caps in Elizabeth’s direction and mumbled greetings.

  “You come down the mountain all alone?” called Moses Southern, his raspy voice carrying through the room.

  “And why would I not?” Elizabeth asked him with a small smile.

  Moses shrugged. “Just last week Asa Pierce got killed by a bear up on Hidden Wolf. Lots of trouble out there in the bush for folks who don’t pay attention.”

  “Lots of trouble,” echoed Claude Dubonnet, rubbing a finger alongside his nose.

  If you only knew how much trouble, Elizabeth thought, touching a finger to the chain that disappeared into her bodice.

  “Oh, be quiet, you old gasbag.” Axel appeared at the rear door, scratching at his beard. “Asa Pierce didn’t have the common sense God gave a goat, although he was a good enough blacksmith. Hello there, Miz Elizabeth.”

  “Are you well, Mr. Metzler?”

  “Ja, sure. Fine, fine. My joints are holler in’ loud enough to be waking the dead on rainy days like this one, but you know what they say. Live long and drink deep, and sooner or later you’ll get your share of the dregs. Anna, you got time to be helping this woman, or you want me to come behind your counter and see to it?” Axel settled with a deep sigh of satisfaction into the chair nearest the hearth, a position which put him just between Moses Southern and Billy Kirby, both of whom glowered at Axel openly.

  “I’ll manage fine, I always have,” Anna said. “Now, what can I help you with, Elizabeth? I expect you’ve got a long list. Takes more than four legs in a bed to start a marriage out right, after all.”

  The purpose of this trip had not been shopping, but as Elizabeth had no idea how long it would be before Hawkeye and Nathaniel would appear with their charges in tow, she set her mind to the many things large and small missing from the new cabin. In short order a small hill of dry goods had been piled on the counter, with a new kettle and a large sack of goose feathers at the center. By the time the women had begun to discuss fabric for aprons and sheets, they had long lost the attention of the room. Slowly the noise level returned to normal, and Elizabeth began to enjoy the process of purchasing things for her new home, although she was always aware of Moses Southern behind her.

  Anna had just pulled out a tin washtub for Elizabeth’s inspection when the door opened. With a rush of cool air the skin rose on the nape of her neck, and she raised her eyes slowly.

  The judge was there, with Julian hovering at his right elbow.

  Elizabeth had never before spent much time away from her brother, and to her surprise she found that she had missed him, even as he stood before her with his derisive half grin. Hawkeye had obviously dragged him out of his bed, for his eyes were reddened and he was unshaven; neither had he taken the time to comb his hair, and his hair fell over his right eye. Elizabeth was reminded of him at thirteen, when he had not yet learned to hide his anger or his intelligence behind a mask of equal parts lethargy and mockery.

  “Hello, Father, Julian.” She pulled her cloak closer around herself, glad of its protection.

  “Lizzie,” said her brother.

  Before her, she saw her father’s expectant face, and close behind him, Hawkeye watchful and waiting. Her father hung back as he always did, hoping that someone else would fix this problem he had created. Hawkeye was silent because he knew the trick of waiting until he was needed. But it was Julian who concerned her now, Julian who thought that he could somehow talk her out of her marriage, her new home, her freedoms, to come back to them. She wondered if he missed her, too, or if the lost mountain was all that interested him.

  He said, “To have lowered yourself to such tricks, are you not ashamed?”

  Elizabeth pulled the rumpled newspaper from inside her cloak, and held it out to him.

  “This is a strange coincidence,” she said. “I was about to ask you the very same question, little brother.”

  Nathaniel had never thought much of the Reverend Mr. Witherspoon, but he found reason this morning to revise his opinion. Kitty had flatly refused to accompany him to the trading post; only her father’s intercession had worked to change her mind. Word of Richard’s whereabouts and health—which she demanded immediately, but which Nathaniel would not supply—were only to be had if she came along with him. Mr. Witherspoon helped her wrap herself in a light cloak that could not conceal a six-or seven-month pregnancy, and the three of them made their way to the village in the rain.

  Kitty was silent, after she found that Nathaniel would not answer questions. This left Mr. Witherspoon to inquire after Elizabeth in a manner which managed to be both polite and severe.

  “She has broken her father’s heart.”

  “She has settled all of her father’s considerable debts,” amended Nathaniel.

  “I hope she does not already regret her hasty actions.”

  “You can ask her yourself,” Nathaniel pointed out. “She’s waiting for us.” From the corner of his eye he saw Kitty start. Her face took on a set look, as if this news were unexpected, but quite welcome.

  “If she would only apologize for the injury she has inflicted, I am sure the judge would forgive her and take her back into his home. The man is all kindness, when he is well treated.”

  Nathaniel almost laughed out loud. He looked at the clergyman at some length, the smudged spectacles sitting crooked on the long, reddened nose, the hollow cheeks and pale mouth. Watery blue eyes met his own, and in them he saw that it was hopeless: the man wore blinders and would never even know it.

  “My wife has a home,” he said simply. “She don’t need the judge’s charity.”

  “Father,” said Kitty sharply. “Can’t you see that your arguments are wasted on him? Sue a beggar and you will profit nothing but fleas, after all.”

  Now Nathaniel did laugh, as he was sorely tempted to ask her what kind of fleas she had profited from Julian Middleton. His laughter hit her hard; he saw her color up, her eyes flashing anger and tears.

  He had grown up with Kitty Witherspoon and it was not the first time he had made her cry, in the normal rough way older boys had with little girls. But Kitty in tears made Nathaniel feel thirteen again, which in turn made him think of his mother.

  Cora had
taken Kitty on when Mrs. Witherspoon died. Her father had not known what to do with a little girl, and so it was Cora who had taught Kitty how to sew and cook, and who had listened patiently to her stories, answered her questions. Nathaniel could hardly remember a time in those years when she had not spent all or part of every day on Hidden Wolf.

  Then Richard had come back to Paradise. It was Kitty who had brought him up to Lake in the Clouds the first time, understanding that Cora would make room for him. Stray cats find their way to the kindest heart in the village, his father had commented on coming home from a long hunt to find three children at his table instead of one. But he hadn’t minded, not if it pleased Cora to have them around her. My mother could have taught you something about charity, Nathaniel thought, as Witherspoon carried on about the duties of children.

  Nathaniel should have been angry with Kitty; she had caused trouble and was willing to cause more. But he had his mother at his elbow now, and he saw Kitty as she would have: still a girl at heart and mind, her slender back bent with the weight of a child who brought her no joy, fathered by a man who would never claim it, or her. Suddenly Kitty was once again the almost-sister she had been, and Nathaniel was overwhelmed with anger at Julian Middleton, and at Richard Todd as well, who had offered her a home and his name as he would make any business deal. She deserved better and he was tempted to tell her so. But he also knew that her own anger was as deep and unfathomable as her sorrow, and that words—his words—would not help right now. Having learned not only charity but the value of a well-timed silence from his mother, Nathaniel kept his thoughts to himself.

  Alfred Middleton, onetime trapper and hunter, adventurer, land speculators and property holder, presently judge in the township of Paradise in the state of New-York, understood above all things how to play to an audience. This particular audience was well disposed toward his plight and would come completely over to his side with very little work at all, if only his son would hold his tongue. If only it weren’t for Hawkeye, who stood watching with that infernal smirk; always knowing too much and guessing the rest. Standing there like an angel of God, ready to do battle for Elizabeth.

  He hadn’t seen his daughter for three good months, and hadn’t expected to see her, either. Julian’s plan, again. She would be easier to persuade that way, or so his reasoning went. But Elizabeth stood before him now with her eyes flashing and her cheeks flushed with color, and he realized with some surprise that she was pretty, if you could overlook the impudent way she had of meeting a man’s eye. There were other men in the room who appreciated what they saw, too: the younger ones showed it plainly, the older ones with swift, guarded glances. The judge wondered for the first time if Bonner might have married her for something other than the mountain. The fact that Nathaniel wasn’t here hadn’t escaped the judge. All at once he didn’t feel quite so comfortable with the door at his back, and he moved slightly forward.

  The truth was, if it weren’t for the land, he would almost be glad to see her wed to Nathaniel Bonner. She was as strong willed as her mother, but smarter: a bad combination in any woman, but impossible in a daughter. Maybe Nathaniel could handle her. God knew Todd hadn’t been up to the job.

  She was looking at him now, holding the newspaper out toward him. He would have blushed, if he had been capable of it. The newspaper had been Julian’s idea. Together they had gone to Albany, and set it all in motion. Although he didn’t like it, not at all. If the Bonners had the Tory Gold, then that fortune was in the family, in a manner of speaking—and he had no intention of handing it over to the state. In that case, Elizabeth had made a decent match: a man with some money who would look after the land. Not that he could say so out loud: the men in this room had a fear of the Mohawk that would outweigh any loyalty they felt toward him. And there was Julian, who resented everything Elizabeth had, but the mountain most of all.

  His children’s voices moved back and forth: the delicate, deadly thrusts of foils rather than the more blunt no-nonsense of the war club. The judge had been too long in this country to remember the rules of engagement, but his children had learned them well in his sister’s household. Oh, yes. The men in the room, most of whom had fought more than one bloody war, watched in horror and amazement at what damage could be done without knives or firearms. He listened to the cloaked parry and thrust, and his head ached. The judge wished to be home again where Curiosity would fix him a hot toddy and he could contemplate his folly in privacy. He had been foolish, in his anger and hurt pride. He had let Julian set this plan in motion, even though Curiosity had given him that look, the one that said that he was moving too fast and would regret it. You set on stirrin’ up a wasps’ nest, best know you got some safe place to run, first. The judge looked at the faces in the room and he knew he should have listened to her. Generally, life would be much simpler if he would just let Curiosity make his decisions. It was Curiosity who told him to keep out of Todd’s investment schemes to start with. She had said straight-out that Richard Todd would be more trouble than he was worth.

  The door opened and Kitty Witherspoon came in with Nathaniel right behind, proving Curiosity right once again.

  There was a transformation in Kitty; Nathaniel watched it happen as she stepped over the threshold. Her narrow back straightened and her head held high, she walked right up to Elizabeth.

  “I want to know what you’ve done to Richard.”

  The room was close and full of people, and the mood generated more heat. Both women’s faces were pearled with sweat.

  “Who told you we’ve done anything at all to Richard Todd?” Elizabeth asked calmly. Nathaniel sought out her eye, but she was focused on Kitty.

  “Richard went into the bush to serve you with a bench warrant more than three months ago,” she said. “He expected to be back in a month. He promised me that he would be.”

  Elizabeth put her hand on the younger girl’s arm. “Because he could not keep one promise does not mean he will not keep others.”

  Kitty’s faced drained of the little color she had had, and she shook off Elizabeth’s hand with a small strangled gasp. Stepping back, she came up against the counter.

  “What is keeping him, then?”

  For the first time, Elizabeth looked toward Nathaniel. He raised his head, and immediately the attention of the room was on him. He had few friends here, but his father was at his back, and Axel stood on the other side of the room with his rifle within reach. He flexed his hands at his sides, felt the rush of fear and anger thrumming softly in his fingertips.

  “There’s lots of distractions in the bush,” Nathaniel said.

  Julian said, “Was your rifle one of them?”

  Elizabeth turned to her brother. “Julian. How good of you to come to the point, as usual. Since this issue interests everyone here, let me say this clearly. The last we saw of Richard was in Canada—”

  There was a shifting in the room, a sudden increase of sound.

  “He was injured, but he was recovering.”

  “Where?” Kitty’s voice was hoarse.

  Nathaniel spoke up for the first time. “Kahen’tiyo.”

  Kitty shook her head sharply. “Richard would never go to Kahen’tiyo of his own accord. He must have been taken by force.”

  “He was carried, but not by force,” Nathaniel said. “The Kahnyen’kehàka saved his life.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Her voice wavered and threatened to break. “He ran away from the Mohawk and said he would never go back.”

  “He didn’t have much choice about it, with his injuries.”

  The judge stepped forward, clearing his throat in an ominous way. “How did he get these injuries?” he asked, glancing between Elizabeth and Nathaniel.

  “I didn’t shoot him, if that’s what you want to know,” said Nathaniel. “Didn’t knife him either, or chuck a rock at him, or push him off a cliff. I would have, you understand, because he came bearing arms against us. But he met with an accident before we could get down to bus
iness.”

  “Do you have any proof of this?” Julian asked.

  Elizabeth said, “Robbie could have told you, but he has left for home. The people at Kahen’tiyo could tell you what we have told you.”

  Moses Southern called out, “Who’s going to take the word of those Mohawk? Do you have any white people to speak up for you on this?”

  “Robbie told me the story,” said Axel. “Just like they’re telling it here.”

  Moses waved Axel’s evidence away with one thick hand. “But you didn’t see him yourself, Metzler. MacLachlan could’ve been wrong.”

  “Richard will find his way home soon enough,” Nathaniel said. “I guess you’ll have to settle for his word on it, if he’s white enough for you, Moses.”

  “By God,” called a male voice from the back of the room. “You’d better be right.”

  Kitty held up her hand. “Wait!” she cried. “Wait! I want to know where Richard is now. I want to know why he didn’t come back with you.”

  Elizabeth answered her. “Katherine. All we can tell you is that Richard was healing slowly from his wounds when we last saw him, and that he left the village just before we did, heading north. He did not tell us why he was going, or where.”

  “If he was injured, he couldn’t have traveled on his own,” Kitty pointed out.

  Elizabeth flashed a look in Nathaniel’s direction. He shook his head slightly, suddenly fearing what detail she might give Kitty. But it was too late; he saw that immediately. Elizabeth had taken pity on the young woman, and she would do what she could to calm her fears.

  “He left the village with his brother.”