by Becky Lower
Yet, even if he survived, he'd be weak for months and would probably never fully regain his strength. The burden of responsibility would still be on her shoulders. All she could do right now was to follow Sully's directive and swallow her bitterness. She'd keep William alive, if she could. Her children needed their father, even if he would never again be the robust man he once had been.
Shortly before dawn, Hannah climbed down from the loft where the children slept. She crawled into her mother's lap and Susannah pressed a kiss on Hannah's temple and fingered her light brown braid. They sat quietly for a few minutes. Susannah tried to recall the last time Hannah had come to her and sat in her lap. She couldn't recollect it. Her eldest daughter had grown up fast, and had taken on more responsibility than any now ten-year-old should ever have. She wrapped her arms around Hannah and squeezed her tight, thanking William for giving them this opportunity for a quiet moment together.
Hannah stared at her father as he lay quietly for the first time all night. "Will Daddy die, Mama? Did the army send him home to die?"
"I can't predict what will happen, honey. His fever quieted down somewhat overnight, and right now, he’s resting peacefully. Only the Good Lord can answer your question. We'll have to do what we can to take care of him, and give him a fighting chance. You’ll have to pray every night that he gets better. But even if he does make it, he'll not regain his strength for some time, so we can't expect too much."
"Maybe Lone Wolf will come back next spring. Then, he could help Daddy until he gets his strength back."
Susannah's eyes misted over. If only life could be as simple as a child made it sound.
"No, Lone Wolf is gone for good. Between your father and you children, we'll make do. Our first battle is to get your father well."
Hannah climbed off Susannah's lap and headed toward the door. "As soon as I milk Bossy, I'll stay by Daddy’s side so you can get some sleep."
Susannah jumped up from the bedside. "No, wait, Hannah. Let me go and do the milking. I need a change of scenery. You can start on the breakfast."
Hannah placed her shawl back on its peg. "All right, if you're sure."
Once inside the safety of the barn, Susannah succumbed to the tears that had been threatening ever since Sully pulled up. Her body bent over as she sat on a hay bale and wept with joy that her husband had returned, and wept with sadness that things would never be the same again. She also cried for a lone Indian, who had somehow captured her heart…and who she would never see again.
Bossy's lament brought Susannah out of her self-indulgence. Enough wasted time. She needed to get the cow milked, clean the barn a bit, and get back into the house where her husband waited. If he did survive, would he accept Missouria, even with her strange name and looks? Or would he harbor the notion, as Sully had implied, that she had slept with another man within weeks of her husband's departure and that Missouria had Indian blood coursing through her veins? The next weeks would be challenging, to say the least.
♥•♥•♥
Raoul wandered alone through the woods near his father’s sprawling ranch. He had not hunted for any game since his return months ago. Their larders were well-stocked, but Raoul wished to become Lone Wolf again, and keep his bow and arrow skills sharp. Because one never could be certain of the future. As much as he enjoyed being around family, he did not fit into life here in St. Louis any better than he had fit in the Ojibwa village after Pale Moon's death. He shrugged his shoulders as he tried to make sense of his future, almost as if he was wearing a shirt that had grown too small for his frame.
He spied a big buck up ahead, in a clearing. Raoul slowed his breathing, brushed his hair back from his face and pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back. The buck had not smelled him yet, and Raoul mentally applauded himself. His tracking skills were still intact. Now, if his aim were true, the family would have some good fresh meat tonight.
A single arrow was all that was needed. It pierced the big buck's heart and he went down hard. Raoul waited in the shadows until the buck's thrashing stopped. Then, he took his knife and gutted the animal, chanting a prayer of thanks to the deer for giving his life so his family could eat.
He grabbed the animal by the horns and began to drag it through the forest. His mind was unsettled as he made his way back to the house. He wondered if all the deer he had slain in Ohio had been enough to get Susannah and her children through the winter. His heart ached for them–Hannah, Missouria, quiet little Lydia, the boys. But most of all, his heart ached for Susannah. They had forged a deep bond in the months he had been at her farm. And even though leaving was the only thing he could do, every day gone was torment. They were his family, every bit as much as the ones he was with now. The intervening months had done little to quiet his longing.
With a sigh, he lifted the buck over a log in his path. The sigh was not for the labor involved with getting this deer home. It was for the family he would never see again.
Etienne came out of the homestead as Raoul approached. Raoul stopped in the yard, dropping his burden and gazed at his youngest brother, who had grown into a tall, sturdy man while Raoul had been gone. He had his dark hair tied into a queue at the back of his head, which brought his cheekbones into high relief. There was no mistaking his Indian blood, yet he seemed quite comfortable in his skin. He, too, had married a white woman not long ago. Prudence and he had grown into adulthood together. They both loved horses and her large family had blended with his. Prudence’s sister had married one of Ginger’s brothers, and, as was the way in this country, brothers and sisters often married members of the same family.
"Ah, big brother, you have brought us dinner." He grabbed one of the horns and began to help Raoul hoist the deer onto the hooks on the porch.
"I needed to test my touch with the bow. It took me long enough to learn how to make my aim true. Arrows are much more fair to the animal than blasting him with a gun."
"Well, I am glad you won this time. I will look forward to some of the back meat fried in butter."
Raoul smiled for the first time that day. "You are making me hungry."
"Then you will hurry with the butchering." Etienne picked up a knife and waited for Raoul to begin.
Their brotherly banter stilled Raoul's mind a bit. He could stay here, try to mold himself into the daily lives of his father and brothers, could make certain the baby of the family and the only daughter, Elise, made a good match for a husband.
She was now fifteen, and Raoul had noticed a few boys from town found their way to the ranch in hopes of seeing her. And why not? Elise had her father's features rather than the Indian ones of her mother. Green eyes, her skin only slightly darker than her father's, and dark hair. She had definitely gotten the best of both parents and the result was a very pretty girl just coming into her own. She would be a stunning companion for some man, and many would be tempted by her.
It was up to Raoul and his brothers to make certain she chose wisely. Because even though most of the citizens of St. Louis acknowledged and appreciated their presence in the community, there were still more people than not in this area who thought the only good Indian man was a dead one. And the only occupation for an Indian woman was that of a courtesan, if she were beautiful, a whore if she was of average appearance. Raoul would have to see to it Elise’s husband did not carry the beliefs of the majority.
Once he and Etienne finished with the deer, the best, most tender morsels were taken inside for dinner and the rest put into the smokehouse to be cured. Raoul took his time cleaning his knife, his arrow and himself. His mind once again returned to the woods, but not the woods of St. Louis. Rather, he was back in the woods of Ohio, pondering a girl not that much younger than Elise. A girl who had stolen his heart.
Hannah was wise beyond her years, but she still would need some guidance when it came to picking a mate in a few years. He wondered if her father would return home in time to assist her. He wondered if Susannah had fond memories of him as he did of her. Their t
orrid kiss in the barn stayed with him, tormented him at night, as his mind wandered, adding a conclusion to the evening that was different from what truly happened. He pictured them in bed together, with Susannah’s legs wrapped around his body as he took her and claimed her as his own. His body ached for her gentle touch and his mouth craved her skin again. Time had only intensified his longing for her. Would he ever be able to put her memory into the back of his mind, as he had Pale Moon? Would he ever take a chance on love again?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
February's icy grip finally faded, and Raoul relished the warmth of a rare mild March day as he led the horses from the barn into the pasture on his father's ranch. He turned his face up toward the sun, letting the breeze caress his face and tied a bandanna around his forehead to hold his long hair in place. He had not cut his hair since leaving the Ojibwa camp a year ago, and it came almost to his waist, now. Spring was not far away. The anniversary of when he left the Indian camp and wandered onto the mountaintop in Ohio. He wondered who would do the planting at Susannah's farm? Who was taking care of the family? The pass should be open by now, so help would be forthcoming, if the family had indeed survived the rest of winter. His thoughts, and his mood, darkened, despite the sunshine. His future was empty and directionless.
Joseph joined him and propped one foot up on the lower rung of the pasture fence.
"Ginger tells me you will be leaving soon."
Raoul raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Oh? Does Ginger now have visions? She told me she did not, but I tend to think otherwise.”
"She has adopted many Indian ways over the years, but she has not yet had a vision quest. However, even a white woman can have a hunch."
"Did she tell you where I might be going? Because I have no plans to leave."
"You are heading back to your family."
Raoul rolled his shoulders. "My only family is here."
Joseph placed a hand on Raoul's shoulder. "No, my brother. Your family is in Ohio. You have not joined us at meals or rounding up horses. You prefer to be alone in the woods. You are not at peace with us still, any more than you were when you left here the first time and went to live with Grandfather. You need to return to Ohio. Only then will you be happy."
Raoul punched the air with his hands. "I cannot go back. She has a husband. Those are not my children. I have no place in that family, either." Despite his best efforts to keep his emotions under control, his voice broke. Joseph clamped onto his shoulder.
"The gods declare otherwise. At least in Ginger’s mind. Who are we to say the gods are wrong? That she is wrong? Maybe right now is not the time to return. Only you will be able to tell when to do so. But you will return to that mountaintop."
“I do plan to go back, when this War Between the States ends. I will return and see for myself that the head of the household has come home from the battlefields. Then, I will leave for good, hopefully without the family ever knowing I was there.”
Raoul's gaze left Joseph, and he stared at the horses running through the pasture. He took deep breaths, and the promise of spring scented the air. The lump in his throat grew. Ginger sensed what he had been denying for three long months.
Joseph continued. "I have never seen you so confused about a woman before. Even when you first met Pale Moon and came here to talk to me about her, you were not so unsure of yourself. Susannah and her children are your destiny, and when the time is right, you will go to them, be it one week from now or three years.”
Raoul rubbed his chest, hoping to dispel the ache. He had not been sent a vision, or had a hunch, as Ginger seemed to have been. As difficult as it may be to stay away from the Ohio farm, he must. The other direction would be of no benefit to either him or Susannah. He had no wish to bed another man’s wife. Yet, he was certain if he returned to the lonely mountaintop, and Susannah’s man was still away, that is exactly what would happen. And they would regret their impulsive actions the minute lust faded. One or both of them would end up getting hurt. And one more hurt would be his undoing. His heart already had a huge scab on it, from when he had lost Pale Moon.
Yet even with the scab, his heart had cracked open as little Hannah befriended him without question, as he came across Lydia singing to her dead sister. As he came to respect, admire and love Susannah. He had to turn away from them, if he was ever going to survive. He could not afford to feel such enormous pain again. Since leaving Ohio, he had been putting one foot in front of the other each day, merely getting along. He now needed to figure out how to live the rest of his life to the fullest.
But to live without someone by his side was also unfathomable. He wished for what Joseph and Etienne had–a strong, good beautiful woman, some children, and a way to keep them safe from harm. But he could not have that, as long as Susannah and her children were a loose end in his life. Yes, after the Civil War ended, he would return to the woods around the farm and see if Susannah's husband had returned. Joseph and Ginger were right about that. Raoul had to go back at some point and check on the family, to close that chapter of his life. If he could be assured Susannah’s husband had returned and the children would be safe from future harm, he would then try to find his own happiness.
Yet, he had no idea where his happiness would be found.
♥•♥•♥
Susannah wrapped a quilt around William's frail shoulders. At least he was out of bed and sitting outside in the warm spring air. He'd gained some of his weight back as he recovered, but he was still far from healthy, and coughing spasms rocked his body at regular intervals. He had aged years in the months he’d been away. His face was no longer the boyish one she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. The one she’d been drawn to at the barn raising, who she’d served lemonade to first, and declared her interest in him by doing so. His mop of sandy brown hair was now flecked with gray. Yet, even with his altered appearance, her heart opened to him as it always had.
She kissed his cheek before she placed Missouria in his arms and set about building a fire in the open pit. The washing needed to be done, regardless of the weather, and she'd rather do it outside. She was grateful for the warm weather, for having her husband by her side again, for surviving one more winter.
Once she got the fire going strong, crackling as it devoured wood faster than a colony of termites, and had a large cauldron of water warming on it, she brushed her hand across her eyes to remove the sting of the smoke, and moved a stray lock of hair back from her face.
“Talk to me, Susannah. Tell me about how your life was when I was gone. The children have grown so much, and I’ve missed them so. Did they help you as I asked them to? Has Lydia talked yet? I missed Christmas this past year. Did you cut down a tree and bring it into the house? Are you still angry at my leaving you alone with the children?”
Susannah sighed softly. William was right. She had to put her anger away.
“I’m not angry—at least, not anymore. You’re home, and with us again. I’m proud of you for volunteering when you were asked, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t often wondered why you would have signed on to serve for three years. Ninety days is one thing, three years quite another. You had to have been aware of what a hardship that would cause for us. Your children would have grown to adulthood without you. Three years is a long time in a child’s life. In my life.”
“Our regiment was asked to supply a given number of men. All those who were single signed on first, but we were still short on numbers. I took stock of the married men who were left and thought about their wives and children, who were left behind. Of all of them, there was no one stronger than you.”
“So, if I had been a weak, mewling woman who couldn’t tell which end was up, you would have returned?”
“You’ve proven my point by taking care of yourself and our children all this time. The little ones have grown taller in my absence and seem to be well-fed and cared for. And you are as radiant as always, despite the hard work and long days. We have a new addition to the famil
y, who I found out about only days before taking sick in the camp.”
She turned to observe her husband with their baby. He touched her dark hair and examined her features with care, his finger tracing a path down her face. Susannah took the seat next to them while the water heated.
"This baby has a different look to her than the other children."
Susannah reached out and brushed her finger over the baby's cheek. "I’m reminded of my grandmother when I see Missouria. She, too, had black hair that hung to her knees and a darker complexion. That must be where this little one got her coloring."
“How did you come up with such an odd name for her? Is that a throwback to your grandmother, as well?”
Susannah sighed. She had been waiting for this conversation to take place. It had been bubbling up for the past few weeks, similar to the water about to boil in the cauldron. It would not go away, so she’d better address it the first time William brought the subject to light. She had nothing to hide. Thank God.
“No, not my grandmother. I might as well tell you what Sully already has pieced together. I had help here while you were away. A half-breed Indian appeared on the mountain a month or so after you left. He was French-Canadian and Ojibwa, and a very nice man. He met Hannah first, up in the pasture, and then began finding wood for us and leaving it alongside the path for us to discover. Then, when you re-enlisted for three years, he asked Hannah to introduce him to the rest of us, and helped out for several months. He stocked our woodpile and our smoke house in exchange for room and board in the barn.”
“Hannah wasn’t fearful of him?”
Susannah touched her long braid, reminiscing about how Raoul had undone it and run his fingers through her hair. Hannah might not have been fearful of Raoul, but Susannah was. Fearful of how he made her ache with longing. Talking about Raoul to her husband caused a pain in her belly. He was never far from her thoughts, but bringing his memory to the surface and forcing her to talk about him caused her torment.