The Woodsman's Rose

by Gifford MacShane

  That goddamned bastard. He struggled for breath. Has she been living with this hell, too? How long has she known? And what else is there about that bastard I have to know? My God, don’t let there be any more!

  He looked at his wife and knew the depths of his selfishness. She’s so strong in that frail shell. She puts us all to shame.

  “My sweet love,” he murmured into her hair.

  “I’m sorry.” She was clinging to him then, seeking support for her fragile strength. Her voice wavered as she continued, “The last time he came home... before the time I shot him... he caught me in the yard... I slapped and kicked at him... he threw me down on the ground... and he said...”

  She closed her eyes, swayed against him. He whispered, “Tell me, love. Tell me.”

  Yes. Tell him all.

  “He said, ‘Don’t fight me, girl... or you’ll die, too’. Could... the baby... be like...?”

  “Never, my love, never.” Her little hands clutched at him again. “Oh, Jesse, I swear. On your mother’s grave, I swear.”

  Annie felt the certitude flowing from him as he repeated it over and over again. And finally, she felt the acceptance flowing into his woman.

  “I... I was going to tell the... next day. But Alec was my friend... I knew he’d kill him... in cold blood. And then... be hanged. I... couldn’t...

  “And then... he was dead... you told me... he was dead... and I didn’t... have to tell...” Her voice cracked, her small reserve of strength used up.

  “Hush, love. You couldn’t have told—who would you tell? There was no proof. Even Daniel said there was no proof. It’s all right, my love. If you want Alec to know, I’ll tell him. But, Jesse, are you sure you want to?”

  “I... I...”

  “What else, Jesse?” His tone was like velvet over steel. He supported her with one arm, stroked her cheek with his other hand. “What else?”

  She reached for him blindly, sobbing so terribly the words came out in a jumble.

  “I... didn’t want... his baby... murderer... shame... your name.”

  Annie pulled back, but it was too late—too late. The knowledge was like a brand, burning into her soul. The first baby—that poor stillborn baby—not Adam’s but her brother’s!

  “No, no...” Annie rocked and held her head with both hands, trying to expunge the knowledge she’d gained. The old voice spoke again.

  Forgive me, macushla. Believe that it was necessary. Believe that we have helped her. She will be well now.

  Forgiveness came at once, but it didn’t ease the pain. She rocked and moaned. She tried to stand but flopped down again, whimpering.

  Call him. Call him and he will come.

  She opened her mouth, but no words would come. Daniel. She reached for him. I need you. Daniel. But there was no answer and her tears began to flow.

  Within seconds he was at her side. She reached for him again and this time felt the strong warmth of his arms, the deep rough voice of comfort in her ear. Real he was, and close and loving. She held him tight and trembled violently.

  “Aroon, what is it?”

  But she couldn’t speak.

  “Annie,” he whispered. Precious Annie. “Come with me, sweetheart.”

  He picked her up and carried her to his room. He laid her on the bed and turned to close the door. When he came back to her, her arms were reaching for him again. Tears were streaming down her face. He sat next to her and gathered her in, held her as if she were an infant, and made soft noises of comfort against her hair.

  She began to sob and he turned her head against his chest to stifle the sounds, for he realized that he’d compromised her. He should have taken her to the guest room, gone for his mother or sister. Almost in a panic, he tried to soothe her.

  “Hush, aroon,” he begged. He slipped off the bed, knelt beside it, her arms still around his neck, his still holding her tight. “Sweetheart, don’t cry. Oh, Annie, please.”

  His words finally penetrated and she drew a deep shaky breath, held it until she’d brought herself under control. But she did not, could not let him go.

  “Aroon...” He stroked her hair, kissed her forehead. “My precious girl, tell me what’s wrong.”

  Her tears started again, but she managed to speak. “Jesse...” Her voice juddered and broke as her body trembled. “How... could he hurt her? How could he... hurt her so much?”

  He groaned in denial, in helplessness. “I don’t know, aroon. I don’t know.” But his heart demanded, How could this happen? When I’ve tried so hard to keep it from her?

  The old lady’s voice answered him. It was necessary. Believe that it was. I am sorry, acushlah. We have done what we must.

  But as he bent again over the girl he loved, he found it hard to accept. How many more people will he hurt? When will this ever end?

  Chapter 27

  When Annie slept, Daniel covered her with a quilt. He looked down at her as she rested on his pillow, then cursed himself for a fool. If anyone should find her here...

  Softly he closed the door behind him, quietly he descended the stairs. Silently he slipped into the parlor where the guests were gathered. His heart stopped when he saw Jane Barber. He’d forgotten about her—one of the worst gossip-mongers in the village. His need to protect Annie escalated to desperation, but he looked in vain for Evelyn.

  Luckily, Jane sat with her back to him. He made a small urgent motion to Jake, hoping Alec had taught him some of the hand-signals they’d used while gentling ponies. Come quickly, it said, come quietly. The youth was sitting on the floor beside the hearth but got up and joined his brother at the door. He’d attracted no attention, and Daniel felt his panic dissolve.

  “Where’s Evelyn?” he asked in a low voice.

  “In the kitchen. They’re making coffee.”

  “Go get her for me? Tell her to meet me in the hall. Do it as quietly as you can, okay?”

  The lad disappeared through the kitchen door as Daniel slipped out into the entryway again. He found himself pacing, stopped and ordered his thoughts under control. When Evelyn came out, he was leaning against the newel post.

  “Jake said you wanted me?”

  “Need you is more like it. I did something stupid and I need your help.”

  “What is it?”

  “Annie was in Gra... in Frank and Patricia’s room. I don’t know why, but she was crying when I went up.” He lied blatantly but felt no guilt. “Evelyn, I put her in my room. She’s asleep.”

  “Daniel...” His sister gaped at him.

  “I said it was stupid. But she was so upset, I didn’t think.”

  “We can’t let anyone find out. Owen wouldn’t mind—he trusts you. But there are so many other people here. And Jane... it would be terrible.”

  “Help me, please. I can’t let her suffer just because I’m stupid.”

  “All right. You get back in there—no, go outside then back in by the kitchen door. Make yourself conspicuous. I’ll go upstairs. I’ll think of something.”

  “Thank you, mavourneen. I knew we could count on you.”

  As Evelyn flew up the stairs, Daniel sauntered around to the kitchen to help his mother and Carolyn with heavy trays of cups. No one, it seemed, had noticed his absence from the gathering. As he passed coffee around, he heard everyone planning the Fourth of July festival. The town would be fifty years old, and they all wanted a special celebration.

  They were talking about the horse races as Evelyn approached Owen and put a hand on his arm. “Papa, Annie’s upstairs and she’s not feeling well.”

  “It’s not headache, is it?”

  “Oh, no, just a bit of indigestion.”

  The tension left Owen’s face. “Indigestion” was the word his Annie used to describe any discomfort that wasn’t headache. “I’m going to bring her some peppermint tea. But it might be better if she were to sleep afterwards. She could stay here tonight.”

  “Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

  “None at all, Ow
en,” Molly answered. “You must know that by now.”

  “The guest room’s already made up,” Evelyn added. Daniel had some trouble hiding his laugh. Again the statement was true, and Owen need not know it was he and not Annie who’d spend the night there.

  “Should I go up and see her?” Owen asked.

  Evelyn patted his arm again. “Maybe later.” She was gratified when he sank back into his chair. She made a wicked face at Daniel as she left the room, was rewarded by a grateful smile.

  Molly saw it, though, and stared hard at him. He got up to follow as she motioned him into the kitchen. “What goes on?”

  Evelyn explained the situation while her brother stood silent. Molly looked him up and down. “Haven’t you the slightest bit of intelligence at all?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “It wouldn’t be so bad were Jane not here. And yet it seems that she has changed somewhat—she seems not so bitter as before. Still, we cannot allow anyone discover this. Oh, Daniel, I once did think you had a brain.”

  “Once he did,” Evelyn put in, “but that was before he fell in love.”

  “Aye.” Molly eyed him once more. “And that was quite some time ago, I fear. Now get yourself back in there, and for pity’s sake, do no more thinking tonight!”

  He kissed her cheek and obeyed. He joined in the plans for the festival, offering half a dozen wooden toys for the craft table competition. Jane Barber volunteered to help the ladies make rag dolls for prizes, and the surprised silence was broken by Carolyn who, as always, offered to host the lemonade stand.

  DANIEL ESCORTED EVELYN, Owen, and Carolyn out as the party broke up; Evelyn had convinced them Annie was sleeping soundly. Lowell had their buggy ready and, as good-nights were exchanged, Evelyn gave her brother a broad wink. He sent her a salute of thanks as they drove away.

  He walked down the lane and leaned against the corral fence, his chin supported by his arms. The sky was glittering with stars, and he tried to drink in the serenity of the night. Then, directly behind him, he heard the soft footsteps of his Navajo friend.

  First Jesse, then Annie. Now Alec. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve this day.

  “Daniel.” The voice that was so rich and deep, that soothed nervous mustangs and comforted frightened children, just now made the woodsman’s hackles rise. “Who killed my mother?”

  “I can’t tell you. I have no proof.”

  “You told my father.”

  “I’ve told no one.”

  “My father knows.”

  The woodsman shrugged.

  “You told him,” Alec averred.

  “No.”

  “Then how does he know?”

  Something within him snapped, and Daniel’s voice was no more than a growl. “I don’t know, Alec. Maybe he figured it out for himself. Maybe if you weren’t so damn stupid, you could figure it out, too!”

  Horrified by the insult he’d thrown, Daniel reached out and grabbed at the air, as if he could snatch the words back. Then he realized that Alec had paid no attention to the slur but was deep in thought, staring hard at the ground before stalking away. Daniel sank to his knees beside the fence post, rested his head against it and groaned aloud. What have I done?

  Chapter 28

  The morning sun streamed through the window and touched Annie’s face. She was warm under a soft quilted cover, but it wasn’t hers. The pillow beneath her head had a familiar scent but it, too, belonged to someone else. Her awakening mind thought, The Navajo build their hogans to face the east. The rising sun must waken them each day.

  But it wasn’t a hogan in which she’d slept, though a bearskin rug lay on the floor and the walls were hung with pelts. The room was clad in wood and the ceiling had rough-hewn beams. A peaceful, calming place.

  There was that which she didn't want to remember, so she concentrated on the scent of the room. Leather. Tobacco. The dying embers of the fire. And one thing more. She turned into the pillow and breathed into it, felt the warmth, the security it promised. Her heart responded. He will take care of me.

  A soft knock on the door. He came in with an armful of wood, leaving the door open behind him. She watched him stir the fire into flame and place the logs upon it. Daniel.

  He padded over to her, touched her hair, bent to kiss her cheek. Then he was gone again, the door closing behind his silent steps. He will take care of me.

  When she woke again, Annie knew she’d been changed. The first thing she realized was that there was a block before a certain part of her mind. She didn’t question it. Sitting up, she realized she was still in her clothes, though her shoes had been removed. She hunted around, found them under the edge of the bed and put them on, then turned her attention to the room.

  It’s neater than my room. Every single thing has its place. Wandering around, she touched the deer pelts that hung on the wall. Softer than she’d imagined. Some had been decorated with beads and silver medallions—Alec’s work. More were rolled lengthwise and stood together in a corner, each tied with a single rawhide thong. He always has a dozen of these laces in his pockets.

  She studied the map above the fireplace. The Territory. He claims it as his home. She moved to the desk, brushed her fingers over its polished mahogany surface, found the design for the canyon gates, the plans for indoor plumbing, the sketch for the framework of her cake. He saves everything. Her attention was caught by the shelves above the desk—dozens of books, wooden trains and toys, tools and metal parts of every description. And in the corner, sitting alone, a fat, bedraggled teddy bear with a single eye.

  She picked it up, stroked its worn body, carried it to the bed and held it closely against her. Poor little one. Has he been ignoring you? After you have brought him such comfort in the past? Oh, Daniel, I remember the children we were. Life was so very simple then. Why has it changed?

  As if she’d conjured him out of thin air, he was again at the door. He left it open but came to sit beside her on the bed. His gentle smile was half-hidden in his mustache as he reached out and touched the head of the bear in her arms. She leaned toward him and he moved closer, drawing her into his arms. She rested her head against his beating heart.

  The old voice, cracked and melodious, fluttered into her mind. I am here.

  Yes.

  He will protect you.

  Yes.

  Our work is done. She will be well. Do you understand?

  Yes.

  The pain is over. The guilt is gone. The sorrow will remain for some time. None shall harm her. And none shall harm you, ever. He will protect you. He will be with you for as long as you live. There is nothing to fear. Do you believe?

  Yes.

  And slowly, the curtain rose. She cringed with the first touch of horror, and trembled there in his arms, but the old voice came again.

  It is over. None shall harm her. He will be with you always. Have no fear.

  She felt the sorrow well up from her heart and overflow, as the horror that had been so real faded like an early morning fog. As he rocked her in his arms, she became calm once again. But the sadness remained.

  He whispered into her hair, “My precious girl. I love you.”

  WHEN HER FATHER ARRIVED, Annie was sitting with Molly and John Patrick in the back parlor. The fire was burning cheerfully, for the day was gray, windy, and unseasonably cold. Irene had let him in and offered tea, which he gladly accepted.

  “Feeling better today?” Owen asked his daughter, although the answer was obvious. Her eyes were shining, her smile bright. She reached for his hand as he sat next to her. There was a peacefulness about her that had been missing for some weeks, and it seemed to Owen she’d regained her usual serenity. He hadn’t realized how much he depended on her composure until it was missing.

  At Molly’s invitation, they stayed to lunch. Daniel, Jake and Irene joined them at the table, along with the younger twins and their wives. When they were ready to leave, Daniel walked out with them to the buggy. He had two burlap bags: o
ne held a heated brick he placed at Annie’s feet. The other he laid in her lap. He said not a word, but took her hand and kissed it before tucking the carriage robe in around her, then stood watching as they drove away.

  Owen looked over at his daughter, saw the movement of her hands under the robe, struggling with the bag. “Got a present? Is it alive? If it is, I hope it doesn’t eat too much. I’m a poor man, you know.”

  She sighed in mock sympathy. “Poor Papa.”

  “Nobody gives me presents.”

  “You don’t need them. You have me!”

  He laughed at that, then still feeling the urge to tease, Owen began to hum. But again she surprised him, as she joined in the song.

  I’ve no sheep on the mountains nor boat on the lake,

  Nor coin in my coffer to keep me awake;

  Nor corn on my garner, nor fruit on my tree,

  Yet the Maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

  They sang until the cold wind took her breath away. Then he wrapped the robe more closely about her and pulled her in against him. She snuggled up as if she were a child and whispered, “I love you, Papa.”

  He put his hand on her hood and turned her face away from the wind. “R’wy’n dy garu di, caraid.”

  When he stopped the buggy at their cottage, Owen jumped down and trotted around to help his daughter out. She was tangled in the robe, though, and they had some trouble extricating her. They were laughing at their clumsiness when, behind them, the town erupted.

  Chapter 29

  Owen and Annie turned to see Tommy Twelve Trees striding down the middle of the wide street, marching his son before him. Alec’s hair was flying about his face like a wet black mop. His velveteen shirt was wet down to his breast, his arm twisted up behind his back as his father held on grimly. Though the silversmith was tall, slender, with the strength of a whip-cord, his struggles were ineffectual. Tommy had the advantage of three inches in height and forty pounds of muscle and, were it not for his fierce expression and the painful grimacing of his son, the scene would have been comical.