Into the Wilderness

by Sara Donati

  “Never mind, man.” Nathaniel clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s not ruin the party for the others.”

  The reasoning was sound, but Elizabeth could hardly put the idea of her father and brother on their way to Albany out of her head. Most certainly her cousin had mentioned their meeting at Judge van der Poole’s; Julian had reasoned out the rest for himself. She sighed, and turning, walked straight into Curiosity’s arms.

  “I knew you’d be here,” Curiosity said with a smile. “Come say hello.”

  The night air was distinctly cold and much of the party was gathered around the hearth: Polly and Benjamin, looking dazed but happy, Daisy with some sewing in her lap, and a tall, sturdy man introduced to Elizabeth as Joshua.

  “We met a friend of yours in the bush,” Nathaniel said by way of greeting.

  Joshua seemed to be perhaps thirty, although the hair on his closely shorn skull was tinged with gray. He had mellow brown eyes and a steady gaze. “Yes, sir, so I’ve been told. I would appreciate the opportunity to talk to you about that, after the party.”

  Elizabeth followed his glance toward the young people by the hearth. Polly and Benjamin were talking to Hannah, but Daisy’s attention was fixed solidly on her sewing. This struck Elizabeth as strange; then Daisy glanced up and Elizabeth saw the brightness of her eye, and the look in it when she turned her gaze to Joshua.

  “Yes, this is not the time,” Elizabeth agreed.

  Joshua sat down again across from Daisy, who dropped her head over her work. Elizabeth elbowed Nathaniel neatly to cut off any comment that might be forthcoming, and she sought out Curiosity, who winked at her meaningfully.

  “He ain’t going anyplace,” Galileo announced. “The judge’s going to set him up. We been without a smith since Asa Pierce came out on the wrong side of a disagreement with that bear, and Joshua is looking for work.”

  “What very good news!” Elizabeth caught her cousin’s eye and smiled broadly.

  “Good things come to them who wait, ain’t that so, Elizabeth?” Curiosity called. She was putting a bowl of butter beans on the table and she straightened up to survey the collection of platters and servers. “Hannah child, you must be hungry. George, Manny, put down them dominoes now, and come eat. Even happy stomachs need food,” she said in the direction of the hearth. “Mr. Hench, will you do us the honor of starting?”

  They learned that the wedding party was set for the next Saturday afternoon, to which Hannah promptly called out: “Oh, no!”

  “Saturday next doesn’t suit you, Missy Hannah?” Galileo asked solemnly. “Why is that?”

  Hannah ducked her head and apologized for her outburst.

  “We have the school recitation planned for Saturday evening,” Elizabeth explained. “But of course we shall find another time for that.”

  “No need,” Polly said, tugging on Hannah’s plait. “A wedding don’t take very long, after all. Don’t you like the idea of two parties in one day?”

  “Our Hannah likes her parties spread out, generous like,” Nathaniel said. “She doesn’t like to tire herself out with her admirers.”

  “I don’t see any problem with both things on the Saturday, if you don’t, Miz Elizabeth.” Benjamin raised his voice to be heard over the good-natured laughter.

  “It is entirely up to you,” Elizabeth said. “If you don’t mind—”

  Hannah clapped her hands with pleasure, and turned to Samuel Hench. “I’ve never been to a wedding so I don’t know what will happen there, but will you come to the school party? Jed will play his fiddle, and there’s doughnuts, and singing, and poems.”

  “I would very much like to hear thee sing,” he replied solemnly. “But I’m afraid my business will take me away tomorrow.”

  “Why, that’s not any visit at all,” Hannah said. “You haven’t even come to Lake in the Clouds.”

  Elizabeth squeezed Hannah’s hand under the table and leaned in closer. “I’m sure that Cousin Samuel would stay longer if he could.”

  “I would, indeed,” Samuel agreed.

  “Cousin,” she said quietly. “I hope you haven’t taken offense at my father’s sudden departure.”

  But his answer was interrupted by a knock at the door; the kind of knock that did not mean friends come to call. The laughter in the room fell away into an awkward silence and Galileo rose with a puzzled expression and went into the hall. Beside Elizabeth, Nathaniel tensed.

  The man who appeared in the doorway was not especially large, but he had a great expanse of gray beard, a halo of bright white hair, and a forcefulness of purpose in his stance.

  “The name’s O’Brien,” he announced. “Treasury agent. Here on business. The Indians on the mountain said I might find Nathaniel Bonner at Judge Middleton’s.” His eyes, ice-blue, hesitated at Samuel Hench and then moved on to Nathaniel. “I guess that’s you. I’ll have a word, now.”

  Elizabeth was on her feet, her hands clenched at her sides. “You are unwelcome here, Mr. O’Brien. This is a family party. If you care to call again in the morning—”

  “A family party?” He smiled, exposing a scattering of sharp teeth in raw gums. “Strange family, I’d say. Where is the judge, anyhow?” This last question was shot at Galileo, who provided a brief explanation.

  “If you would be so kind, Mr. O’Brien—” Elizabeth tried again.

  “It’s not my business to be kind when I’m on a job. Who’re you?”

  Nathaniel’s hand on Elizabeth’s wrist pulled her up short. In a long and easy movement, he stood. “She’s my wife. She happens to be the judge’s daughter, as well, but you can call her Mrs. Bonner. I’ll come out and talk to you, if you’ll leave these people in peace.”

  He leaned over to talk quietly into her ear. “The treasury was bound to show up sooner or later. Sit tight, Boots.” Then he winked at Hannah, spoke a quiet word to Galileo, and disappeared into the hall.

  The crackling of the fire in the hearth was all the sound in the room for a long moment, and then Curiosity let out a great sigh. “Come on, now, there’s food here too good for the pigs. Manny, hand your plate down here, sugar, and let me give you some of this beef. You won’t get this good once you start working down to the mill, let me promise you that.”

  Slowly, the conversation turned back to the wedding and the upcoming school recital. Elizabeth gave her cousin a grim smile.

  “I see that thy life in Paradise is not dull,” he said. “Perhaps I should not be surprised that thy brother does not wish to leave.”

  Once again Elizabeth put down her fork. “Julian? Leave? Why should he?”

  Samuel shrugged. “I thought that perhaps I could convince thy brother to come home with me, for I could use an assistant. But I’m afraid the life of a merchant does not entice Julian.”

  “I am surprised to hear of your offer,” she said. “But more, I am disappointed that he did not consent to join you. I think it would have done him much good to get away from here.”

  Samuel nodded thoughtfully, and then gestured toward Joshua and Daisy, who were picking at their plates while they talked. “Dost thou know the proverb about the two things that cannot be hid?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Love, and a cough. I see the first here in evidence, but what has that to do with my brother?”

  “The proverb was once longer, I believe: ‘Foure things cannot be kept close, love, the cough, fyre and sorrow.’ I would say that thy brother burns not with love, but with jealousy. Perhaps given hard work, and a purpose, he could be saved.”

  “You are a missionary at heart,” Elizabeth said ruefully. “I only wish there were some hope of success in this case.”

  “There is always hope,” Cousin Samuel said.

  When she finally went in search of Nathaniel, Elizabeth found him leaning against the wall of the house staring at the night sky. She followed the line of his gaze, leaning against his hard shoulder.

  His arm came up around her and she moved in closer, for it was truly cold.

&
nbsp; “The maples are turning,” Nathaniel said.

  She let out a small laugh of surprise. “Can you see that, in the dark? Or do you hear it?”

  In response he took her hand and pulled her down to the trees that stood on the far side of the barn. In the dark, he reached up and pulled a leaf, which he stroked across her cheek and then pressed into her hand. “Go have a look,” he said. “If you don’t believe me.”

  “Oh, I believe you,” she said, pulling her shawl more tightly around her. Even in the moonlight, she could see the set of his jaw, and the lines around his mouth.

  “Are you worried about the winter?”

  He sighed, chafing her arms with his hands. “There’s enough sign that it will be a hard one, but no, I ain’t especially worried about the winter.”

  Elizabeth rubbed her cheek on his shoulder, drawing in his smell.

  “Are you going to tell me about our visitor?”

  “O’Brien? He’s after the Tory Gold.”

  “That much I surmised,” Elizabeth said. “I gather you satisfied his curiosity. I heard him ride off.”

  Nathaniel produced a small snort of laughter. “I doubt that man has ever been satisfied with anything. But I’ve quieted him down for the moment.”

  “Do you think my father sent him this way?”

  “No. The judge and your brother won’t be in Albany until sometime tomorrow, Boots. Unless they ran into O’Brien on the road, which ain’t likely.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “No, it was the gold we spread around in Albany. The state wants it, but thus far they don’t have any clear claim to it.”

  “So then we don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Nathaniel said grimly. He took her hand and they started back toward the house. “I think O’Brien will stick around for a while, at any rate. He took a room at the Pierces’, and he’s likely to try to question you, so be prepared.”

  “I am not afraid of him,” Elizabeth said.

  Nathaniel pulled up short, and leaning down, kissed her briefly. “I know you’re not, Boots, and that’s what scares me. A little healthy fear is a good thing sometimes, in a man or a woman.” His hand swept down over the curve of her belly, and up her back to pull her in closer. “There’s been enough leave-takings for a while.”

  Pressed against him, Elizabeth felt a tremble in his arms. “I am not going anywhere, Nathaniel,” she said firmly, determined to keep surprise out of her voice.

  “That’s good,” he said. “Because I wouldn’t know how to go on anymore, without you.”

  The sound of the front door closing separated them. In the shadows, she made out Joshua’s solid form. He had his hat in his hands, and his expression was guarded.

  “Don’t care to interrupt,” he said. “I’ll come find you another time.”

  “Oh, no,” Elizabeth said, stepping toward the porch. “Please don’t go. We wanted to talk to you about Joe.”

  In the faint light, Joshua’s expression was unreadable. “Can you tell me how he died?”

  “You know he’s dead?”

  Joshua reached into the pocket of his coat with two fingers and drew out the bijou Elizabeth had worn on a chain around her neck for so many weeks. The pale stone in the center flashed like an eye in the moonlight. “If he sent me this, he’s dead. It was all he had to leave behind.” There was a long pause, in which Joshua looked thoughtfully at the small ornament in his palm.

  “Do you know, did he take a family name?”

  Nathaniel glanced at Elizabeth. “He introduced himself to me as Joe, no last name. Did he tell you, Boots?”

  When Elizabeth confirmed that he had not, Joshua shrugged. “I was hoping he might have left me that, too, now that I need one. He was my father, but I guess you figured that out.”

  Elizabeth walked up the porch steps and stood in front of Joshua. “It seems to me a very great responsibility, to find a name for yourself. Perhaps your father meant you to take on that task when the day came.”

  “I’ll have to think on it some,” Joshua said.

  Nathaniel said, “Maybe we could go set in the kitchen and have a talk. You’ll want to hear what we have to tell you in privacy.”

  “If you don’t mind bein’ kept away from the party—”

  There was a loud burst of laughter from the parlor, punctuated by Curiosity’s voice in a rambling scold.

  “I think they’re managing without us well enough,” Elizabeth said dryly.

  “Would you mind if I asked Mr. Hench to join us? I would like him to hear this story, too.”

  “That’s your decision,” Nathaniel said.

  Joshua looked down to the cap he held in his hands. “Maybe you don’t understand this,” he said, searching carefully for words. “Don’t know why you might, after all. But it’s a strange thing, having decisions to make all of a sudden. God knows I’m thankful, but it’ll take some getting used to.”

  Settled around the hearth in the kitchen, Elizabeth and Nathaniel told the story they had to tell of Joe, how they had come across him and how he had met his death. Elizabeth cradled a cup of warm cider in her hands, and watched the firelight flicker in the deep amber fluid as she listened to Nathaniel tell the last of it.

  “I didn’t know him very well, you understand,” Joshua said quietly, when Nathaniel had finished. “Me and Mama was sold away when I was little. But I saw him now and then in the town, and twice a year on Sunday he had a free afternoon. He walked a long way to come talk to me then, wasn’t ever more than an hour, ’Cause he had to be back before sunset. Strange, how much you can miss a body you never did see very much to start with. But I do miss him. The idea of him.”

  Cousin Samuel had been quiet through much of the story, but now he leaned forward, his hands spread out in front of himself. While they were well acquainted to honest work, they had little resemblance to Joshua’s hands, heavily muscled, blunt, and the dark skin seamed with scars.

  “There is an old saying that might serve well,” he said. “ ‘Grief will not recall thy father to thee, but by thy conduct thou canst revive him to the world.’ ”

  Elizabeth felt Nathaniel’s sorrow, usually held so tightly in hand, blossom suddenly up. He flushed, perhaps with embarrassment, perhaps with new purpose. For a moment Elizabeth was overcome, too, but with feelings of guilt: she had not understood, not really, what it had cost him to have said goodbye to his grandfather and father on the same day. To know one of them gone forever; and not to know if the other would ever return. Under her folded hands, a sudden faint kicking, as if to scold. She wondered if this child would read her thoughts as easily as its father did.

  “Sometimes, truth be told, I am angry at my father,” Joshua said in a voice so soft that Elizabeth barely heard him.

  “That he ran away?”

  He turned his head toward her slowly, and blinked.

  “No,” he said. “That he didn’t go long ago, and take me with him.”

  They were quiet then. There were no other sounds in the kitchen but that of the wood hissing in the hearth, and the creak of the wind in the rafters, but it was not an awkward silence. After a while it gave way to talk, the sort of easy talk between men after a long day of hard work and a shared meal. They were that comfortable together, talking of matters of the world, far away: plague in Philadelphia, and civil unrest in France; of things closer to home: the weather, and the harvest, and signs of a hard winter to come soon after.

  She might have had a share in the conversation. She knew that they would listen to her; they would answer her questions and ask her opinion. And because she knew this to be true, Elizabeth was content to sit and to watch their faces, and listen.

  LV

  An impatient fall nipped hard on those September nights, and the village pushed toward an early harvest. Deprived unexpectedly of her students, Elizabeth tucked up her skirts to help pick apples and pears from the trees between the barn and the corn. Finding a great deal
of satisfaction in the filled baskets, she took it upon herself to join Many-Doves and Hannah as they waded in the shallow waters of the marsh, where they harvested wild rice and cranberries as red as rubies. On a clear fall afternoon while Falling-Day tied standing corn together with strips of rawhide to bring about the first drying of the cobs, Elizabeth picked the beans that wound up the cornstalks, pausing now and then to look over the golds and oranges and reds scattered in the forest canopy like candles against the coming night. With Hannah she went deep into the woods to gather beechnuts while squirrels chirred and barked overhead, leaping from branch to branch in shivering outrage. As she had been in the spring, Hannah became her teacher once again, pointing out the flocks of robins and chickadees gorging in preparation for their flight south, half-built muskrat shelters woven with cattails and bulrushes, a red-bellied snake working its way into an abandoned anthill where it would sleep through the cold.

  She saw little of Nathaniel during the day: the season had begun, and the men went out very early with the dogs. One of them was never far from Lake in the Clouds; both of them were uneasy about leaving the women alone. Elizabeth began to understand what a great hardship it was to have Otter and Hawkeye away. For the first time she heard Falling-Day wonder out loud when her son would come home, a question which much occupied Elizabeth, along with thoughts of Richard Todd. The judge and Julian had returned from Albany with nothing to say about their trip, its purpose or success; nor had there been any sign or word of aunt Merriweather. O’Brien, who turned out to have the improbable first name of Baldwin—promptly shortened to Baldy by Axel and his regular patrons—demonstrated more interest in schnapps than he did in finding the Tory Gold, and showed no inclination to leave Paradise. And the date of the final hearing on the breach-of-promise suit approached. In an attempt to curb her anxiety, Elizabeth spent her evenings preparing for the school recital, visiting her students in their homes where she often joined in shelling beans while she listened to recitations.