Sweetbriar

by Jude Deveraux

“Why, Devon! The birthdates are the same—January 10, 1758. He was your twin brother.”

  “Still is as far as I know. If I’d known there was so much told in that book, I’d a’ left it at home.”

  “All right.” She began to close the book, then another name caught her attention. “Cord Macalister. He’s the man whose name I keep hearing. He must be your first cousin.”

  “Yeah, Cord’s my cousin.” She was startled at the emotion in his voice.

  She closed the book, not wanting to pry any more into Devon’s family history, obviously somehow painful to him, and turned her thoughts to the unfamiliar task of teaching. “How about your name first?”

  He took the piece of charcoal from her and laboriously wrote “Devon” on a stone of the hearth, smiling triumphantly at his accomplishment. “I been practicin’.”

  “Devon, that’s wonderful! You’re going to be an easy pupil.”

  “It’s not so good,” he murmured.

  She looked at him sternly. “When someone gives you a compliment, you say, ‘Thank you.’ You do not deny the person’s words, even if you think them to be false.”

  “You really are goin’ to be a teacher, ain’t you?”

  She waited patiently.

  He finally smiled and said, “Thank you for the pretty words. Now teach me somethin’ else.”

  “Gladly.” She smiled back at him.

  Linnet threw another log on the fire. She’d been at Sweetbriar for two weeks and was beginning to feel as if she’d always been there. The people had become her friends, and she loved them for their faults as well as their virtues. And they had accepted her, too. She poked viciously at the fire. Except Corinne Stark. That girl used every opportunity to say some sly remark about Linnet, had even started the rumor that what she and Devon did each night alone in her cabin had nothing to do with reading.

  Linnet laughed in memory—she didn’t know whom the people of Sweetbriar were trying to protect, her from Devon, or their precious Mac from a grasping female. For four nights she and Devon had been constantly interrupted by callers with the weakest excuses imaginable for their intrusions. Devon had finally gotten angry and given his opinion of their thoughts, along with his opinion as to their rights in the matter even if what they thought was going on was going on (that had made Linnet blush). But everyone finally left them alone, and Devon was progressing with his reading very rapidly.

  Linnet smoothed the skirt of her new dress, one of two dresses, two aprons, a shawl, and a nightgown that she now owned. Devon laughed that he had more shirts than all the men of Sweetbriar combined, but she knew he was actually pleased.

  A knock on the door brought her from her thoughts. Wilma Tucker stood outside, her look nervous, her hands wringing and pulling on one another.

  “It’s Jessie,” she said. “Is he here?”

  “No, he’s not.” Linnet frowned. “Come in and sit down. You seem to be very upset.”

  Wilma buried her face in her hands. “Jessie’s gone. He’s run off or been takin’. I don’t know what. I thought he was in bed when I looked last night, but this mornin’ it was only a heap of quilts. He ain’t been home all night. Somebody’s takin’ my only boy,” she wailed and began to cry.

  Linnet tried to control her own fear. “All right, stay here and I’ll get Devon. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Mac ain’t here. He went huntin’ afore sunup. I went to him first ’fore I remembered, but then, you bein’ his woman an’ all, I come to you.”

  Linnet blinked a few times—Devon’s woman—the first time she’d heard it stated so blatantly. “We’ll look for him.” She wrapped her shawl about her shoulders. “Go to the Starks’, and then get Agnes. Agnes will know what to do. Do you understand, Wilma? Where’s Floyd?” It was her first thought of Jessie’s father.

  “He went huntin’ with Mac.”

  Linnet grabbed Wilma’s arm, her fear no longer easy to control. “Could Jessie have gone with his father?”

  “No. Jessie and Floyd had a terrible row. Floyd said Jessie was to stay and help Jonathan with the farm, but you know Jessie.”

  Linnet stared at the woman. Yes, she did know Jessie. He had wanted to go hunting with his father, and when he wasn’t allowed to go, he had decided to run away, fixing his bed so no one would know he’d gone. “Wilma, go to Agnes now, and we’ll start looking.” Linnet felt her fear growing, remembering the children who had been captured by Crazy Bear. Involuntarily, she remembered her mother lying by the fire, the growing red stain by her head. A feeling of panic began to seize her. Jessie, for all his bravado, was just a little boy and was in grave danger.

  She nearly pushed Wilma out the door. “Go to Agnes, and she’ll help to get the people to search,” she repeated.

  “Where you goin’?”

  “I’m going to look for Jessie. I think I know some places where he might be.” She stepped into the cold November air and walked toward the forest, her heart beating rapidly.

  Chapter Five

  IT WAS SUNSET WHEN DEVON RODE INTO THE clearing, and he smiled in the direction of Linnet’s cabin and wondered what she had for supper. Pausing for a moment, he thought about how much he enjoyed the evenings alone with her, how quick she was to laugh, how her pretty little mouth…He told himself to stop that line of thought, grinned, and went into the trading post.

  “You back, boy?” Gaylon asked.

  “Yeah, Floyd and me brought back a buck. I got half of him outside.”

  “You hear about the excitement today?” Gaylon asked him.

  “What excitement?”

  “Little Jessie Tucker got hisself lost.”

  Devon stared at the old man. “Lost? He been found yet?”

  “Oh yeah. He slept in the woodshed, and that’s just where his ma wanted him. I ’spect Floyd’ll have a few more words with him.”

  “He deserves them,” Devon commented, aware of the dangers that the woods held.

  “Shore does. He had everybody in Sweetbriar lookin’ for him. Lost a whole mornin’s work.”

  “Well, I’m glad he’s not hurt. Go out and get that buck and dress ’im, would you? I’m starved.”

  “Goin’ to your little gal’s agin’, huh?” Gaylon grinned. “When you gonna hitch up with her and spend all your time over there? She must be able to do somethin’ besides just read and cook.”

  “Linnet’s my own business, and I don’t need you or anybody else to tell me what to do.” He gave Gaylon a stern look before breaking into a wide grin. “I’m just takin’ my time, enjoyin’ the wrappin’ afore the sweet.”

  “That’s all well and good,” Gaylon said seriously, “but if I was you…”

  “Well, you ain’t me,” Devon snapped, “and ain’t likely to be. Now go get that deer like I said and leave me to my own courtin’.”

  “All I was goin’ ta say was she’s too pretty to leave unattached. Somethin’ might happen to her. I hear tell Worth Jamieson’s after her.”

  Devon glared at him.

  “No need to get riled,” Gaylon protested. “I’m just givin’ you some advice, but I know you young bucks. I was the same at your age, thought I knew ever’thin’.” He closed the door behind him.

  Devon went outside to the barrel of rain water behind the store and washed some of the grime off himself from the day’s hunt. As he dried his strong forearms, he thought how Gaylon was right. But just what did Linnet mean to him? He knew how much he liked being near her, how sometimes her shoulder brushed his and his immediate reaction startled and embarrassed him. Damn! he thought, even now he could feel his body’s reaction just to the memory of her nearness. He grinned, white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Worth Jamieson. He was a boy while he, Mac, was a full-grown man. He wasn’t worried about Jamieson.

  He looked up at the stars, saw it was getting late. Rubbing his palms on his thighs, he walked toward her cabin and was surprised when she didn’t answer right away; she was usually waiting for him. He pushed the unlatched door
open. “Linnet?” He instantly saw that she wasn’t there. Damn! he cursed and was startled by how awful he felt when he realized he wasn’t going to see her right away. As he walked back to the store, he saw no sign of her. He went to the back of the store.

  Gaylon knelt, knife in hand, over the deer carcass.

  “You seen Linnet?”

  “Not all day, but there’s lots of times I don’t see her. Try over ’t the Emersons’. Maybe she thought you wasn’t comin’ back tonight.”

  “But I told her—”

  “She could forget, boy. You ain’t the only one in her life.”

  Devon gave him a quelling look but Gaylon just laughed and returned to the deer. Devon slipped a bridle on his already tired horse and led it from the stall. Silently gliding onto the animal’s bare back, he rode toward the Emersons’ cabin.

  She wasn’t there and no one had seen her all day. He rode toward the Tuckers’.

  An hour later he left the Tuckers’ place cursing. Wilma had gone to Linnet for help in finding Jessie, but nobody’d thought to tell her Jessie’d been found. He’d talked to Jessie for a few minutes and had some ideas where Linnet might have looked for the boy. Devon was so mad at all of them that he didn’t trust what he might say or do and had to leave, but he figured they knew his thoughts.

  The moon was gone and it was very dark and very cold. He’d called her for so many hours, his voice was almost gone, but still no response. His stomach hurt with the fear that he might never find her, that Crazy Bear had gotten his revenge on Devon by taking the girl from him. Cocking his head to one side, listening, he heard a faint sound from far away. It was an unusual sound, not part of the forest, but he was already about fifteen miles from Sweetbriar. Surely she hadn’t come this far!

  He kicked his horse ahead and when she appeared as a dark shape huddled by a tree, he silently swung off the horse and knelt beside her. “Linnet?” he whispered, and his voice held all the worry, the agony he’d felt when he hadn’t been able to find her.

  She turned a pale, tear-ravaged face up to him. Her crying had been what he heard. Without a word, she fell against him and he held her in his arms, crushing her in his relief. “Jessie,” she cried. “Jessie’s lost.”

  “Linnet.” He lifted her face to his. “Jessie is safe. He was just mad at his pa and hid. He’s fine now, just fine.” But not so the girl he held, he thought, his anger at the Tuckers increasing.

  Her tears didn’t stop, but began afresh. “It was like…It was like…”

  “When Crazy Bear took you and the children?” he asked quietly.

  She choked on her words, but nodded her head against his chest.

  He leaned against the tree and drew her into his lap, realizing again how small she was, how delicate. Damn Wilma Tucker for putting her burden on the frail little shoulders he held! They’d all been doing that lately, knowing she would listen to their troubles, always be a friend, never thinking what they were doing to her. “Tell me, Linnet, talk to me about that time.”

  She shook her head, wanting to keep the memories buried.

  He touched her cheek. “I’ll share it with you. Tell me.”

  The words began to come out, slowly at first and then tumbling over one another in their hurry to be released. She told of her terror at the Indian attack, seeing her mother lying in her own blood, of not knowing of her father, the long march with the children. She told how afraid she was when the Indians beat her and she thought they’d leave her to starve alone. She felt Devon’s arms tighten about her, the wondrous safety of them. “I was so horribly, horribly frightened, Devon.”

  He stroked her arm. “You don’t have to be frightened any longer. I’m here and you’re safe now.”

  “I’m always safe when you’re near. You have always come to me, always been near when I needed you.” She moved back and looked up at him as he smoothed her tear-dampened hair away from her face. The sky was growing lighter in the early morning and her mouth was so near his, so soft, her breasts against his chest. He moved his head to kiss her.

  But Linnet pulled away. “I was afraid Jessie’d been taken, that he’d have to live away from his own family like the other children are. Devon, you should have seen little Ulysses. He was a pretty boy, so sweet. Jessie is like him.”

  Devon released her in disgust. “You can’t leave nothin’ alone, can you? You gonna drive me to my grave naggin’ me about those damn kids that don’t mean nothin’ to me.”

  “What’s this, a lovers’ quarrel?” came a voice above them.

  They both turned to see Cord Macalister looming above them. Only one word could describe Cord Macalister—dazzling. He was a powerfully built man, standing with legs apart, hands on hips, dressed in white buckskins with two-foot-long fringe from every seam. Across his broad chest was an intricate design of tiny glass beads that caught and reflected the early morning light. His thick, wavy hair was the color of sunlight, his eyes like the bluest of lakes. He watched Linnet’s face, sure of the reaction he would get, the way all women looked when they first saw him, or saw him for the hundredth time for that matter, and when he saw the same look on Linnet’s face, he rewarded her with his best smile, the smile that many women said rivaled the stars in beauty.

  Devon also saw the expression on Linnet’s face and looked at her in disgust. He set her from his lap and helped her to stand, and when she glanced at him in question, he looked away. “Cord,” he said flatly. “I didn’t expect to see you this early.”

  “Didn’t expect to see me this early this year or to see anybody this early in the mornin’?” He grinned at Linnet.

  Devon clenched his teeth together. How come Linnet isn’t sticking her hand out and introducin’ herself like all the other times? he thought. “This is Linnet Tyler. Linnet, this is Cord Macalister.”

  “Tyler, is it? From the looks of you two I expected her to be a Macalister. Glad to know she ain’t.” His eyes swept her body, her tangled hair full of leaves. “Real glad to know she ain’t took yet.”

  Devon felt the hostility that always surfaced when Cord was near, hostility based on years of being together, of seeing and knowing women’s reactions to him. “Come on.” He jerked on Linnet’s arm. “Let’s get back to Sweetbriar and get you to bed. You look awful.”

  “Now that’s a matter of opinion, little cousin. This little lady looks awful pretty to me. You have only the one horse?”

  “Yeah, I just found Linnet.” He briefly told of Jessie’s disappearance and Linnet’s search for him.

  “Then you’ve got one tired horse.” Cord watched Linnet, thinking that her relationship with Mac wasn’t at all what he had thought at first. She stared up at him now with those big eyes. “What color are your eyes?”

  “I…I don’t know.” Linnet found her voice nearly failed her.

  Cord chuckled and threw an arrogant look to Devon. “Mac, ol’ cousin o’ mine, why don’t I give the little lady a ride back to Sweetbriar on my horse? Wouldn’t want to wear your only horse out, would you?”

  “No,” Linnet said emphatically. “Devon…”

  “Devon?” Cord interrupted. “Now it does seem that I remember your other name was Devon. Ain’t heard nobody call you that, though.”

  Devon glared at his cousin. “Take her if you want, I ain’t got no claim on her.”

  Cord grinned. “Right glad to hear that, boy.” Before she could protest, he picked up Linnet, put her into the saddle of his white horse, mounted behind her and nudged the horse ahead. “Well, little girl, tell me how you come to be at Sweetbriar.”

  She briefly told him of Devon’s rescue of her.

  He laughed, the sound vibrating the air. “Now if that ain’t the way to impress a lady, I don’t know what is. Ol’ Mac killed Spotted Wolf. Crazy Bear ain’t goin’ ta forgive that too easy, what with Spotted Wolf bein’ Crazy Bear’s brother and all.”

  They arrived at Sweetbriar hours later, and the whole town awaited them in the clearing. They were somewhat start
led to see Linnet riding in front of Cord, but they were nonetheless relieved to see she was unharmed.

  Floyd Tucker lifted her from the horse. “Linnet, I’m real sorry about what happened.”

  “An’ me,” Wilma said, her eyes beginning to tear. “I was just so lost in my own problems, I didn’t think of nobody else.”

  “It’s all right, Wilma.” She patted the woman’s arm.

  “No, it ain’t all right.” Devon slid from his horse. He had not ridden back beside Cord, but had gone another way, alone. “Linnet could have been killed while she was out lookin’ for your boy!”

  Wilma sniffed.

  “Devon! It’s all right. There’s no harm done.” Linnet insisted.

  “No harm done! I ain’t had any food since yesterday noon, lost a night’s sleep, and you say there’s no harm!”

  She looked at him in anger, her mouth a firm line. “I am most sorry to inconvenience you to such an extent. I am sure I can find some food for you.”

  He matched her anger. “I wouldn’t want to tear you away from any other duties you have—or interests. If you’ll excuse me, I have my own business to attend to.” He turned to the store and slammed the door behind him.

  In the clearing, Gaylon poked Doll. “What you think brought that on?”

  Doll spat out a mouthful of tobacco juice and nodded his head toward Cord’s broad back. The trapper stood surrounded by women, from the seven-year-old Stark twins on up to Agnes Emerson. “I think that’s Mac’s problem, as it’s always been his problem.”

  Gaylon looked on in disgust. “Why a woman would fancy him I don’t know. He’s got no more to him than some fancy feathers I seen once atop a rich man’s horse.”

  “Well, whatever it is, the women sure seem to like it.”

  Linnet sat quietly in her cabin for a while, glad to be away from the noise. She washed her face and hands, started to remove her dress, but she’d unbuttoned no more than a few buttons when she fell onto the bed, asleep almost before she settled.

  A knock woke her. Hurriedly, she looked at the window, saw the light was fading. Devon had come for supper and reading, and she was still sleeping. Groggily, she waked herself. “Come in,” she called before she remembered how Devon didn’t like for her to do that.