“I’m willing to give you that,” Nathaniel said. “But then there’s Squirrel’s role in all this. I won’t have her risking her own safety, no matter how good the cause.”
Hawkeye stopped. There was an expression on his face that Nathaniel knew very well: a kind of sympathy mixed with disquiet that meant he had hard words to share.
“I ain’t so sure she’s as involved as you seem to think. And even if she is, why she’ll be eighteen this summer, but you’re still calling her by her girl-name. You’re lucky she hasn’t gone off already, son. She’s more than old enough to start making her own decisions.”
“Not if those decisions put the rest of the family at risk.”
“You know better than that,” Hawkeye said, frowning. “That’s not in her nature.”
“I’m not saying she’d do it on purpose.” Nathaniel rubbed a hand over his face. “But she’s headstrong and she’s young.”
“She’s older than you were when you went off on your own,” said Hawkeye. “It scared the hell out of your mother and me, knowing what trouble you could get yourself into. But we let you go, and it’s time you start thinking about the day you won’t be able to hold her back. She won’t disappoint you, son. Don’t you disappoint her. Show some faith.”
Nathaniel started a little at that, but any argument he might have raised left him at the sight of Jemima Southern coming around a bend a quarter mile down the trail.
They stood their ground and waited, watching her come on. She was flushed with walking, and the color suited her. Not a beautiful girl, but comely and solid. No doubt she would be married by now, if it weren’t for her cantankerous disposition. Looking at her, Nathaniel had to admit that if Jemima Southern could make a place for herself alone in the world, the same was true of his own daughter.
“Hail there, Mima,” Hawkeye said when she was close enough. “Coming to pay our Hannah a visit, are you?”
She drew up short, and pulled her cloak closer around herself. “The widow sent me to pay her respects at the burial.” She looked off into the trees instead of at the people she was talking to, a habit that reminded Nathaniel of her father, a man who had been suspicious to the bone and with a temper as quick as fire.
Hawkeye was looking at her with more sympathy than Nathaniel could ever muster. He said, “Thoughtful of you, but we buried that little girl not an hour ago. Elizabeth read a bible passage over her, in case that’s what the widow was worried about.”
Jemima’s chin tightened by way of a smile. She said, “I’ll just head back to the mill then.” But she stood there on the path without moving, chewing on her lip and looking off into the trees.
“Something you wanted to say?” Nathaniel asked.
She looked up, her eyes flashing. “Did you hear about Liam Kirby?”
That name took Nathaniel by surprise, but Hawkeye didn’t fluster.
“Cain’t say that we have. Is there news of the boy?”
Jemima sent him a sidelong glance. “Saw him this morning, right in the village. Thought he might have come up to pay his respects. Old friend that he is and all.”
Nathaniel said, “If that’s the case, I’m sure he’ll be by. We’d be glad to see him. Hannah especially.”
The girl flushed, and Nathaniel regretted letting his irritation push him to say something so mean-spirited. It was clear enough that Jemima had never stopped thinking about Liam, she wore that on her sleeve. And of course she’d heard the rumors about the stolen gold. Most probably she had come up here hoping to see some kind of confrontation between Kirby and the Bonners, eager to take that news to Lucy Kuick. The thing was, they didn’t need any strangers up at Lake in the Clouds until Selah Voyager had moved on.
Hawkeye was thinking in just the same direction. He said, “Maybe you’ll come by another time, then. When Elizabeth and Hannah have caught up on their sleep.”
But Jemima wasn’t done. She stood there on the trail as if it belonged to her.
“Dr. Todd rode in from Johnstown just as I was setting off.” She smiled pleasantly. “You’ll want to stay clear of him, he’s drunk as a lord.”
Whether or not they wanted to stay clear of Richard Todd, they were obliged to seek him out, as it was his home they were headed for. They found him in his study with a bottle of brandy three-quarters gone. He was a big man going a little soft around the jowls, his hair thinning fast and the first threads of silver in his reddish-gold beard. Richard listened as Hawkeye told him what little they had been able to do for his child.
“We put her right between your mother and mine,” Nathaniel added. Hoping that it would provide some comfort, to know his daughter rested between two women Todd had loved and respected. The man deserved some sympathy, but it didn’t come easy: there was a lot of history between them and most of it was hard.
“How’s Kitty?” Hawkeye asked.
“Poorly, but she’ll pull through. She always does.” Not sounding as if he regretted that fact—he was not that far gone—but weary and angry and sick at heart. Just when Nathaniel was starting to soften toward him, Richard cocked his head and looked him in the eye, as plain bad tempered as ever.
“Remember that day I told Elizabeth you couldn’t sire a child? The look on her face. But you proved me wrong, so it looks like the joke’s on me.”
Hawkeye said, “Strange talk for a day like today, Todd.”
He shook his head. “I’m confessing something here, Hawkeye. Doesn’t happen too often, so you should listen. Nathaniel’s got how many to his name now, four? And three in their graves that he can claim as his own. We’re even on that score, at any rate. One contest I didn’t plan to win.”
Nathaniel jolted at that, but his father put a restraining hand on his shoulder. Hawkeye said, “If you’re looking for a fight you won’t get it from us. We’ll just have a word with Curiosity and then we’ll be on our way home. We’ll take Ethan up to Lake in the Clouds for a few days, if you can spare him.”
Richard grunted. “Suit yourselves.” He flashed Nathaniel a sidelong glance. “If you’re done with this little condolence visit, you can leave me in peace.”
Curiosity was waiting for them in the hall. Standing with her arms wrapped around herself and her head turned to rest her cheek on her shoulder, lost in her thoughts. When she was as tired as she was now she somehow reminded Nathaniel of his own mother, another woman who had worn down to leather, each year scraping a little closer to the bone.
When she looked up, Nathaniel knew that she had heard at least some of the conversation with Richard by the expression on her face.
“I already sent Ethan up the mountain,” she said. “It don’t do the boy good, listening to his ma wail.”
Hawkeye said, “Blue-Jay and Daniel will take care of him. We’re hoping you’ll come along too, Curiosity. If you can leave Kitty for a while and can spare the time.”
She pulled back her head to look at them hard. Nathaniel had known this woman all his life, but sometimes it still took him by surprise, the way she read things off people’s faces.
“Trouble?”
Hawkeye raised a shoulder. “Maybe. We ain’t sure, quite yet.”
She took her cloak down from its peg and settled it around her shoulders. “I hope it can wait a few hours. Look like Mariah Greber about to bring her sixth child into the world.”
“Then we’ll walk you out to the stable,” said Nathaniel.
“I was hoping you would.”
When they were clear of the house Curiosity said, “I surely would like to take a switch to Richard. Don’t know why it is some men got to plead angry when they hurt.”
“That’s the brandy working,” said Hawkeye.
“‘Course it is, and more’s the shame on him.”
Richard Todd was her employer, but he had also been the first child Curiosity ever delivered; she wasn’t intimidated by his money, his place in society, or his bad tempers. Not so long ago Nathaniel wouldn’t have believed that Curiosity would ever get
along well enough with Richard to look after his household, but then the old judge died and for once Kitty had put her foot down: she would not stay on in Paradise without Curiosity and Galileo. For Kitty’s sake and his own peace of mind and home, Richard had made an uneasy truce with Curiosity, but they hovered forever on the brink of warfare.
Nathaniel wondered himself at Richard, a man who was always so busy calculating what he didn’t have that he lost sight of what was in front of him: Kitty was a good wife, mostly grown out of her flightiness and eager to do right by him. She had brought him a fine son by her first marriage to Elizabeth’s brother Julian, and that son had inherited more than half of the judge’s holdings. It seemed like Richard had almost everything he set out to get for himself.
Galileo looked up from saddling Curiosity’s horse when they came through the door. He squinted hard in their direction, and then a smile broke over his face.
“Now ain’t it good to see you,” he said. “Cain’t recall the last time I seen you together at that door.”
Nathaniel always took pleasure in coming into this barn. It was as tidy as Curiosity’s kitchen, with a sense of contentment and order that came when a man with an understanding of animals was in charge. A stable as quiet and calm as a Quaker meetinghouse, not a bucket or harness out of place.
Galileo was a little younger than Hawkeye, but time sat hard on him. There was a curve to his back that grew worse every year; now when Curiosity stood beside him they were exactly the same height, although Nathaniel could remember very well when that wasn’t the case. For a few minutes they talked business: ice-out and crops, pelts and foals and spring lambs. Galileo’s gaze fixed on Nathaniel, and he saw how very bad his eyes had grown over the winter, the deepening milky film closing over dark pupils. Squirrel was worried about him, and just recently she had made it known that she was going to approach Richard Todd about the problem.
“I expect you heard the news about Liam Kirby.” Galileo addressed this to the men, but Curiosity’s head came up with a snap like bone breaking.
“Liam Kirby?”
“He’s in the village,” said Nathaniel. “We heard from Jemima Southern, but we haven’t laid eyes on him yet.”
She advanced a step on her husband. “Why didn’t you say nothing to me about this?”
“Because you ain’t give me a chance,” Galileo answered. “Joshua came by with the news, not a half hour ago.”
Curiosity drew up in agitation. “If Mariah weren’t set on bringing that child into the world today, I’d go find Liam and ask him a few questions. What can he mean by it, just showing up after so long? Leaving folks to worry.”
Galileo sent her a sidelong glance. “The way Joshua sees it, young Liam has found hisself work as a bounty hunter.”
They all stilled in surprise, even Hawkeye. Nathaniel thought of Selah Voyager up at Lake in the Clouds and the knot of anxiety that had begun to relax in his gut pulled tight again.
“I don’t believe it,” Curiosity said shortly. “Liam was always a sweet-natured boy. What would make Joshua think such a thing?”
Galileo shrugged. “Heard Liam talking to Jed McGarrity, wanting to know has he seen any strange Africans hereabouts.”
Curiosity closed her eyes and opened them again. “I still don’t believe it. That’s not the boy I knew.”
“But it’s been eight years,” Nathaniel said. “No telling what eight years can do to a young man, if he’s in the wrong company. And maybe it ain’t a coincidence that he showed up today, looking for runaways. Squirrel and Elizabeth came across a young woman on their way home this morning. Walked here all the way up the big river.”
As he spoke Curiosity’s expression went blank and watchful, and Galileo stilled.
“She give you a name?” Galileo asked.
“She goes by the name of Selah, and she’s asking for you. She’s carrying a bijou.”
Nathaniel had expected worry and agitation, but all he could see on Curiosity’s face was pure relief.
She said, “Thank the Lord for delivering her to safety.”
Galileo grunted. “She ain’t safe yet. At least we know now what brought Liam back to Paradise.” And to Nathaniel and Hawkeye: “Never meant to get you folks mixed up in this.”
Curiosity frowned. “They ain’t mixed up in it. Joshua will see the girl on her way tonight, and that’ll be all the Hidden Wolf folks ever saw or heard of her.”
Hawkeye cleared his throat. “That’s just about what I figured you’d say. But you ain’t heard all of it. Hannah says Miss Selah’s got a fever in her lungs.”
Curiosity and Galileo exchanged looks, and then Curiosity straightened her shoulders and mounted her horse as nimbly as a twenty-year-old.
“It will set folks to talking if I go straight up the mountain, and that’s the last thing we need right now. Let’s hope young Liam don’t follow her trail to Lake in the Clouds. As soon as Mariah has delivered her child and I’ve checked on Kitty, I’ll be by.”
Galileo handed her the reins and patted her knee thoughtfully. “You ain’t had a full night’s sleep in two days, wife.”
She smiled down at him, a fierce kind of smile. “I’ll get there as soon as I may. In the meantime you all keep an eye on Liam Kirby until I have a chance to talk to the boy and set him straight.”
Hannah Bonner’s Day Book
APRIL 12, 1802. EVENING.
Warm and clear. First bees among the nimble weed. Black phoebes are come early this year.
Yesterday evening Elizabeth and I were called to Kitty Todd in travail and this morning at 4 of the clock she was delivered of a stillborn daughter. The afterbirth came cleanly. Curiosity’s good ointment and a bath of tansy, mugwort, chamomile, and hyssop gave the poor mother some relief.
Last night my aunt Many-Doves dreamed of bears in the strawberry fields.
Miss Selah Voyager has come to stay and brought a fever with her. A quickened pulse and rattling low in both lungs. She coughs but brings forth nothing. Her urine cloudy. Gave her an infusion of willow bark and meadowsweet for fever and an onion-and-camphor poultice to loosen the corruption in her chest. Dressed a wound on her leg with slippery elm. Her child moves cleverly but shows no signs of being ready to come into the world. I believe she will recover, if I can keep her quiet long enough and if the bounty hunters she fears can be kept at bay.
Chapter 3
Lily Bonner’s father and grandfather went down to the village without her and so she devised a plan: this afternoon while all the women were wound up in the new troubles and the boys were busy trying to distract cousin Ethan from his sorrow, she would slip away to the lake and reappear in the evening with enough smelt to feed everybody. A supper of smelt fried in cornmeal would please her mother, impress her father, and best of all, irritate her brother.
It did not take long to find a piece of fishing net the right size, but Lily had to climb up on a barrel to get the canvas bucket down from its hook on the barn wall. She was finely built and small for her age—shorter even than her cousin Kateri who was a year younger. But she was quick and she managed on her own.
If it weren’t for the fact that Hannah was sitting on the porch with her daybook in her lap, Lily would have slipped away right then.
But her sister had that look that came over her when somebody was sicker than she thought they ought to be, as if it were an insult to her personally. It was a look she had a lot, even when she meant to smile, as she did now.
“Little sister, are you going to tote that bucket all by yourself once it’s full?”
Hannah’s voice carried like the breeze off the waterfalls, and sent a shiver right up Lily’s back. It made her jump to have her mind read so easily. Sometimes it felt as if her forehead were made of window glass and every thought there was as plain as the words on a page.
She dragged the bucket over to the porch, and sat down on the step. “I’m strong as any boy.”
“Stronger,” said Hannah.
Lily
sniffed. “The smelt are running, and everybody but me’s too busy to notice.”
“Where are the boys?”
“They went with Ethan to the fort.”
“Hmmm.” Hannah fanned herself with the blotter. “Maybe Grandfather will go with you to the lake when he comes back from the village.” Her sister was reading her mind again, but this time Lily did not mind so much.
She shifted so she could see into the daybook resting across her sister’s knees. Hannah often drew pictures to go along with her notes, but this page was filled only with her neat handwriting. Lily studied the page for a moment.
“Is that her name, Selah Voyager?”
Hannah nodded. “It’s the name she has claimed for herself.”
“Never heard that name before, Selah. Is it African?”
“I don’t know. You can ask her when she’s feeling better.”
“Is she going to die?”
“Someday,” said Hannah. “But not today, or tomorrow either. Why don’t you go over to Many-Doves and see if she’s got any soup left over for me? I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
Lily was already at her aunt’s door before she realized how gently her sister had weaned her away from her plans. She might have marched right back to tell her so, but Kateri was calling out to her and Lily could not resist being drawn into the half-circle of women around the hearth. Here was something more tempting than fishing: her mother sitting down and her lap empty, her knitting put aside for the moment. Lily stepped over Kateri to get to her, pausing to examine the face of Many-Doves’ youngest son, asleep in the cradleboard on her back. Pines-Rustling was there too, piecing new leggings for Runs-from-Bears while she kept an eye on Kateri, who hadn’t yet finished her part of grinding the day’s corn. Pines-Rustling was a cousin to Many-Doves; she had come to visit three years ago, and just recently Lily realized that she never intended to go away. This suited her very well;
Pines-Rustling was generous with her many stories of the Kahnyen’kehàka at Good Pasture, and she had made Lily a pair of moccasins with the most beautiful quillwork. She admired them now as she climbed up into her mother’s lap.