The Renegade Wife

by Warfield, Caroline

  Meggy rolled her eyes.

  “Mama, I’m ever so much older than Lena. May I stay up a bit to work on my beaver?” Drew glanced at Rand who looked to Meggy for direction.

  “I have to bathe Lena. You may stay for another twenty minutes or so. If Mr. Wheatly, agrees, that is.”

  Drew scurried to the lower cupboard and pulled out the box Rand had given him. Rand helped him clamp the little figure down to the table. Drew grasped his penknife in the fingers of his right hand. He used his other hand, stiff from the splint, to steady the clamp. Rand smiled at the concentrated efforts.

  “Lena! Stop that.” The child had gone limp, making it difficult for her mother to pull her from the bench. Rand remembered that trick and tried to keep the grin from his face. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her effortlessly.

  “I have this. I’ll put this miscreant in her bed,” he said, hefting her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. The girl giggled shamelessly. Two nights of cards, and the jade thinks she can have her way with me!

  He tossed Lena on her bed in an explosion of giggles. “There you are. Don’t give your mother any trouble.”

  Her voice caught him on the way out the door. “Can I have a story?”

  “When did I start doing stories? That’s Drew’s job. I’ll send him up when he is finished. Now get ready for your bath.”

  His feet on the stairs had a spring in them. The snow had kept the four of them inside for forty-eight hours. A month ago I’d have gone into the face of the blizzard rather than face this. What has come over me?

  He stopped in the study and added wood to the fire. “That should keep them warm,” he said to no one in particular.

  He could hear Drew and Meggy in conversation when he reached the parlor. He heard one statement loud and clear. “Mama, I like it here. Can we stay?”

  Stay? Dear God, I don’t want them here . . . or do I?

  Meggy’s heart sank. How can I make him understand?

  “Drew, Mr. Wheatly has been kind and generous, but we can’t impose on him much longer. You know that. He wants his house back. We can’t stay much longer.”

  She gasped when she realized he stood in the doorway. Did he hear Drew’s comment? He didn’t let on that he had, nor did he greet Meggy. His eyes rested on Drew’s head bent over his work. He sank down next to the boy and put an arm around him.

  “Good work, lad. You still have a bit to finish. It’s a good thing you’ll be here a few more weeks while we figure out how to get you to your grandmother”—he watched her then—“or your mother comes up with a different plan.”

  Meggy’s throat felt like sand coated it. “I have to see to Lena. Don’t let him stay up long,” she said.

  A half hour later, she blew out the light on her sleeping daughter. When she entered the hallway, she saw Drew trudging up the steps carrying the rock she had heated for his bed wrapped in towels.

  “He reminded me to come up like you said, Mama.”

  “Why so sad? Did Mr. Wheatly say something unkind?”

  “No, Mama. He told me I’m going doing well. I just . . .”

  “Tell me.”

  “I wish we didn’t have to go.”

  “We’ll be fine, Drew.” Meggy hugged him close and then put him away from her, one hand on each shoulder. “Lena missed her story tonight, by the way. You owe her one.”

  “Yes, Mama. I’ll think up a good one tomorrow.”

  “You best put that warm stone into your bed before it cools. Can you get yourself to bed? I have some things to lay out for breakfast.”

  He nodded, trudged down the hall, and opened the door to the attic while clutching the rock with his good hand.

  Meggy found Rand still in the kitchen staring into the tea caddy as if he had forgotten how to make it. He lived simply, but she suspected he was somewhat wealthy. Does that man have any idea what a luxury a full tea caddy is?

  “Would you like me to make you a cup?” she asked.

  “Please.” He sat back down at the table.

  “You can go to your study. I’ll bring it.”

  “I’m fine here. The kitchen fire is still hot. We may as well enjoy it.”

  We? “As you wish. Thank you for sending Drew with a warming stone.”

  “You had it on the stove. I assumed it was for him. I put one on to heat for you and another for myself.”

  She busied herself with the tea. She thought of the porcelain teapot she found on one of the upper shelves but didn’t risk pulling it down. If he wanted to use it, he would have said so by now. She brewed the tea right in the kettle just as she always had in camp.

  She pulled the kettle off the stove and set it on a flat tile on the table with a towel wrapped around it. “It will be but a moment or two,” she said, putting his crockery mug next to it.

  When she started to turn away to be about her business, he grabbed her wrist. Electricity shot through her arm and made her heart race. His nearness left her breathless.

  “Do you need something?” Her voice caught on the words, embarrassing her even further.

  “Just sit. I have something to tell you.”

  She did. “What is it?” She clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking.

  “Don’t act like a frightened rabbit, Meggy. I just wanted to tell you that I’m going away tomorrow. The snow let up this morning, and the sunshine did its work. I checked the trail when I saw to the stock. I’d like to go before it thaws into mush and mud.”

  She wrung her hands. “What do you plan to do?”

  “I’m leaving for Perth. The nearest magistrate is there. I’m going to see what they know about current Ojibwa movements. If I can find someone reliable, I’ll send messengers to the villages above Lake St. Clair to confirm what you heard. If I can’t find a messenger there, I’ll stop at Grady’s on my way back and hire one. I’ll be gone one night, probably more.”

  “You won’t talk to the soldiers.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No, I won’t. I’ll be circumspect.”

  She forced her fisted hands to relax. “How long before we know?”

  “A week or two. Depends on the weather.”

  Two weeks. If I had yarn, I could knit mittens and socks before then. They will need them if we have to travel.

  “So sober. What are you thinking about?”

  She told him.

  “Wool? Grady should have it. They’ll need mittens no matter where you go.”

  Meggy thanked him and turned to her chores. Laying out what she needed for muffins didn’t take long, even with clumsy hands. She could feel his eyes on her back, watching her every move.

  “I’ll be going upstairs to join Lena now,” she said.

  The blue-gray eyes that followed her focused on her face. “If you must.” he said.

  Meggy felt the air around them crackle with an unseen force. She searched his eyes, trying to decode his cryptic words and intense expression. If I stay, he’ll take me to his bed. The thought both thrilled and distressed her. It will not do.

  “Good night then, Rand. I hope you sleep well tonight.”

  She thought she saw pain or perhaps disappointment flash in his expression and then disappear. “Good night, Meggy,” he whispered, his deep throaty voice an echo in her chest.

  Staying would come to no good. She closed the door behind her and ran before she could change her mind.

  Chapter 13

  Algernon picked his way through the snow, the great beast’s cautious steps adding to his rider’s impatience. Rand’s business in Perth had been both successful and frustrating. It took him four hours to track down someone with knowledge of the movement and locations of native peoples. The man, when he found him, proved to be the sort of bureaucrat who liked t
o make a meal of what could be managed with a quick glass of ale. In the end, he knew the location of the remaining villages in Upper Canada and even had a rudimentary map to them.

  The afternoon was far-gone, and he would have to spend a second night in town. Perth had so many new buildings the air smelled of fresh lumber. Sitting as it did at the juncture of two rivers, it rode the crest of the flood of immigrants into Upper Canada.

  He set out north just before dawn, but muddy roads and patches of snow made it slow going. He had been unable to find reliable messengers in Perth, and so, as badly as he wanted—as he needed—to go home, he pushed on to Gibb’s Mill and Grady’s Mercantile, his best hope of locating messengers.

  All that day one thought dominated his mind: I can’t let Meggy take those children on the road unless I am certain there’s a welcome on the other end.

  He stepped down from the saddle in front of Grady’s, bone weary and impatient to be finished. His eyes went to Grady himself who was standing behind the counter, but Rand, tired as he was, failed to notice a man lurking at the front of the store.

  The shopkeeper nodded in greeting. “Wheatly. What can I get you?”

  “Wool yarn. Whatever color you have.”

  “Color? I have some red out back.

  Rand hadn’t considered that. Bright colors would make them easier to spot in the woods. Is that good or bad?

  He opted for a safe choice. “Brown will do, if you have it—or gray if you don’t—and knitting needles to go with it.” He tapped an impatient foot while the shopkeeper retrieved the goods he had requested.

  “You taking up needlework, Wheatly?” Grady wrapped the purchase in brown paper. He glanced up into Rand’s frowning face and shook his head. “Just a joke. No concern of mine if you make your own socks.”

  “I have a guest,” Rand mumbled. “Temporary. That isn’t what I came here to talk about. I came about your sons. How old are your boys?”

  “Davey is eighteen. Johnnie a year younger.”

  “I need someone I can rely on to carry a message for me and make some inquiries. I’ll pay them well. Davey went to Kingston for me last year. This is more complicated.”

  Grady didn’t comment but listened intently as Rand outlined the information he needed.

  “They can ask for folks who know Meggy Campeau, or remember her from childhood. Family would be best,” Rand finished.

  Grady looked as if he wanted to ask questions but bit it back.

  “When can they be ready to leave?” Rand asked.

  “Tomorrow early. I can manage for a week without them. Best write out what you need though.” He dug under the counter and produced foolscap and a pencil.

  Rand quickly outlined his questions, spelling the grandmother’s Ojibwa name as they might pronounce it and adding his questions. He handed Grady the map he had gotten in Perth. “That should save them some time.”

  Grady took it with a nod. “They won’t fail you. Reliable is what my boys are.”

  “One more thing, Grady. What I’ve just told you is confidential. No one else needs to know.” He held the shopkeeper’s eyes until the man nodded. He knew Grady to be discreet. If nothing else, the man valued his trade.

  Rand took the bundle in brown paper, glad to have his business finished and anxious to be on the road. He stopped abruptly at the sight of Douglas Gibb blocking the doorway.

  “Out of my way, Gibb.”

  “Eager to get home, Wheatly? Sounds like you have a female ‘guest’ waiting for you. I’d be eager too.”

  “Not your damned business, Gibb. Out of my way.” How much did the bastard hear?

  “Not so fast. You still looking for work for that boy of yours?”

  “He isn’t my boy, and he isn’t working for you!”

  “Belongs to your ‘guest,’ maybe? Maybe she’d like t’earn some too. I could pay her well.”

  “Get out of my way now,” Rand demanded, shifting the package of wool under one arm.

  “Your lot may give orders in England,” Gibb growled, “but you don’t order me here.”

  “Move, before I knock you down.” Rand hoped Gibb would refuse. He needed the pleasure of smashing the leering grin off the muckworm’s face.

  “As if you could,” Gibb sneered.

  Rand put his package in one hand so he could toss it aside and took a step forward. The damned brute probably thinks himself invulnerable. A desire to teach the man a lesson heated his blood, only to cool to disappointment when Gibb moved out of the way.

  Exaggerating his bow, the mill owner mocked him, “As you wish, yer lordship.”

  Rand stuffed his purchases in his saddlebag. He had a foot in the stirrup when Gibb called behind him, “Don’t forget to tell the woman my offer. I have work for everyone.”

  The way he said work made Rand’s skin crawl. He pulled himself into the saddle, stared down at the pure hatred in Gibb’s eyes, and felt a murderous calm come over him.

  “Come near her, and I’ll kill you,” Rand said. He turned for home.

  Rand invited Meggy to join him in his study after the children went to bed. She accepted, eager to hear what he had discovered. She learned little she didn’t already know. “So we wait for the Grady boys?”

  “We wait,” he agreed.

  The reprieve burdened Meggy even as the comfort of his house soothed her. The longer they stayed, the more difficult it would be to leave. She had watched her children become attached to Rand and knew leaving would hurt. In close quarters, there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

  When he invited her to bring her knitting the following night, she declined. She declined again three nights later when he asked again. He didn’t press her, and he didn’t ask again. Meggy hoped he didn’t realize his respect and forbearance made him nigh irresistible to a woman used to being coerced.

  The four of them slipped into routine. They did chores after breakfast. Drew helped Rand with the chores outside while Lena helped Meggy inside as well as a little one could.

  After a week of it, Lena begged for an outdoor task. The midday meal tended to be rushed, and they often ate separately, but that day Rand had brought Drew in for a mug of hot soup.

  “Is she well enough?” he asked.

  “To go outside? Briefly perhaps.”

  He proposed that Lena be in charge of collecting eggs. Lena’s eyes glowed as if she had been given a glimpse of heaven, and Meggy could think of no reason to object.

  “From the hens? Can Cat help?”

  “May Cat help,” Rand corrected, “and that may not be wise. Hens and cats are not always good friends.”

  “But they could learn,” Lena said. She ran off to get her coat and mittens.

  Meggy followed Rand and Lena to the barn where he opened a door, and they entered a small room lined with nesting boxes. A door at floor level allowed the hens to enter a pen outside. Cat slipped around Meggy’s skirts and rubbed against Lena.

  “They didn’t like bouncing along in that wagon to get here, but they’ve settled down now and are laying pretty well.” He demonstrated by reaching in gently and pulling out a brown egg. “Fetch that basket off the hook, Lena.”

  Wide-eyed, she did as she was told and approached the next chicken. “May I try?” she asked.

  At his nod, she removed a mitten, stuffed it in her pocket, and slid her hand under a hen. The chicken jumped up and scrambled away.

  Meggy bit her lip to keep from laughing. The hen appeared downright offended.

  Lena peered into the next box. “Two!” she cackled triumphantly and moved to the next. Soon, she had nine eggs in her basket.

  “Eggs for breakfast,” Rand said. “Many more and you’ll have to bake a cake.”

  A disturbance in the yard called their attention. Ran
d strode to the door, but Meggy hung back in the shadow of the barn, one arm around Lena. Two young men in fleece-lined coats and woolen caps over shaggy blond curls shook hands with Rand.

  The messengers. They have to be. Did they find Grand-mère? she wondered. A pulse pounded in her throat. Time to face the truth.

  Chapter 14

  “But their report means little. We’ll just have to go farther north.”

  There had been no sign of the grandmother near Lake St. Clair, but that didn’t stop Meggy. Damned stubborn woman. She is so focused on her own way she doesn’t even realize she has taken over my good chair.

  Rand ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “North covers much of the globe. You can’t simply wander off toward a compass point with two children. Will you go to Fort Malden and ask for army transport to the villages above Lake Huron?”

  The ashen color of her face at the mention of Fort Malden tore at his heart. Terrifying her makes you no better than the husband.

  Her trembling smile tore at his heart. “We can’t stay here, Rand. You’ve done enough.”

  “Is it so bad here?”

  “Bad? Drew begs me to stay. Lena pretends we live here. Your kitchen alone is more luxury than I’ve ever had. But we aren’t your family, we’ve outstayed any polite guest, and we’re not your problem.”

  She didn’t belong in his house. Her presence broke every rule of propriety, and his sister would have conniptions over it. Though Meggy’s words were correct, he hated every one of them.

  What can I say to make her stay?

  “I want you to stay.” He groaned at his own ham-handedness. What must she think of me?

  Meggy’s bright red blush went down her neck and dropped below the bodice of her dress. She’s reading things into what I said. His conscience mocked him. She’s reading them correctly. You want her. Period.