“Speaking of Indians,” Simon said. “Are you still on good terms with the Osage?”
“So far. They seem to be fascinated by the two black men who live up on the place. They’ve taken them into the tribe, shared their women. Besides, the Osage and the Delawares are on the warpath and too busy to pay much attention to settlers.”
“How’s your apprentice a-doin’?” Will asked in the slurry tones of a Virginian.
Fain laughed and glanced at Simon. “Well . . . if he lives to be a hundred he might learn a thin’ or two about gunsmithin’. He’s a good lad, just ain’t handy with borin’ tools and the like.”
“Did he ever say exactly where he come from?” Jeff asked.
“Back east,” Simon said. “I guess he went to Harvard College for a year and to the university at Paris. That’s about all we know about him except he was about to be thrown into debtors’ prison for family debts and skipped out. He drifted down the Trace and ended up in Saint Louis. He came into the warehouse one day and I told him about Fain being a gunsmith. It was something he wanted to do, he said, so he wandered on up here and made a bargain with Fain.”
“He’s a better cook than gunsmith, that’s certain,” Fain added with a chuckle.
“Is he staying around awhile?”
Fain looked at Jeff sharply. It wasn’t like the man to ask so many questions. “Dunno. Ain’t bothered to ask.” He knocked the ashes out of his pipe. “Ya got a notion about Fish?”
“The name Edmund Aston rang a bell when I first heard it, but nothing’s cleared in my mind since.”
“I’d almost forgot his name.” Simon ran his fingers through his still-damp hair. “We’ve called him Fish since Eben pulled him out of the river. The name stuck. He didn’t seem to mind.”
Jeff stood. “We’ve got to be a-pushing on. I’d like to stay and eat some of Biedy’s pie, but can’t spare the time.” The men walked toward the river and the fast skiff they had beached there.
“We’re a-headin’ for Natchez to see the sights.” Will carefully placed his rifle in the boat. “Whoeeeeee . . . I’m gonna find me a sweet, soft woman ’n’ stay abed a week!” His blue eyes twinkled and he jumped in the air and clicked his feet together.
“You’d not last a week,” Jeff teased, then said to Simon and Fain, “If Light comes back this way, ask him to check on the homestead. Henry and Jute would be glad for his company.”
“We’ll do that. Thanks for bringing Biedy.” Simon shook hands with the two men.
“It’s a shame you can’t wait to meet the two purtiest womenfolk to come down the pike,” Fain said when the men stepped into the boat. “Second thought, seein’ your ugly faces mighta scared the wits outta ’em.”
“From what Lardy told us, they don’t scare easy. They sound like gutsy women, my kind of womenfolk.” Will smiled his cool, dry smile, but his eyes teased. “You’re lucky I ain’t a-stayin’ ’round. I’m a-goin’ to let ya get a little head start before I come a-courtin’.”
“Are ya gonna have to listen to that braggin’ all the way to Natchez, Jeff?” Fain called as the boat pulled away.
“He’ll get tired o’ talking to himself,” Jeff said cheerfully. Then: “Are the women going back east?”
“We’re not sure what they’re going to do,” Simon called as the boat pulled away.
They stood on the bank and watched the current catch the canoe. In a few minutes it was around the bend and out of sight. They walked back up the slope toward the house. A burst of feminine laughter came from the open door of the cabin.
“It sounds good a-hearin’ womenfolk in the house,” Fain said, and then seemed embarrassed that he’d voiced his thought.
Simon didn’t answer, but silently he agreed.
Chapter Nine
Simon had been gone for four days, and the thought of him was ever in Berry’s mind. She thought about his homestead a great deal, too, visualizing a tight, neat cabin and outbuildings, seeing herself there as mistress of it all, loved, cherished beyond all Simon’s other possessions. Sometimes in the evenings she would walk out toward the river and give herself up to the recollection of his hands gripping her arms, his mouth against hers, and the lean tautness of his body when he lifted her off her feet to kiss her. At other times she was disgusted with herself for lusting after the tall trader with the quiet, dark face and blue-black eyes.
Berry worked from sunup to sunset each day, enjoying Biedy’s cheerful companionship, Rachel’s bright, happy face, and the wonder of the baby who slept peacefully most of the time. The double cabin had been scrubbed from top to bottom, the clothes washed and put away, candles made, corn ground for bread and cakes. Fain supplied an abundance of fresh-killed foul for hearty meals, and Berry and Biedy scoured the woods to find salad greens, poke, and fresh green shoots from the wild grapevines to cook with the meat.
Israel had learned to catch the huge catfish that frolicked in the river, and Biedy had taught Berry how to bake them covered with red clay and buried beneath the coals of the outdoor fire.
“I ’spect Silas ’n’ the boys will be here tomorry or the next day to fetch me home,” Biedy said one evening. She sat in Fain’s big chair, her feet barely reaching the floor, and cuddled Faith in her arms. “It’s goin’ to be plumb miserable leavin’ this little lovey. Are ya sure you won’t come along home with me, Rachel? You’re welcome. You’re just as welcome as plum blossoms in the spring. You ’n’ Berry both. Why, my land! Two unhitched women in this wild place is rare as a green rooster! There’s men all over this territory what’ll be flockin’ about ya like bears after honey when they hear. Now, if’n my boys was a mite older, I’d steal ya away for ’em.”
Rachel moved on swift, merry feet to set the pewter mugs on the shelf. “Thank you, Biedy. It’ll be a lucky girl that gets you for a mother-in-law.” Rachel had bloomed since the baby was born. Her blue eyes were luminous, her red lips always faintly, lovingly smiling. Overnight she had turned into a beautiful, confident woman who took pride in her appearance. Her hair was shiny clean, pulled up in a pompadour with soft tendrils curling about her face. Her work apron was always turned so the clean side was out when the men came in at mealtime.
From her place beside the door where she was crushing corn into meal on the grinding stone, Berry watched her. Although not a word had been said, she was sure that Rachel had fallen in love with Fain. Berry watched, anxious for a sign that he had a romantic interest in her. Last night the two of them had walked to the edge of the house yard and stood quietly talking. Even Biedy noticed that Fain spent an uncommon amount of time near Rachel and Faith. One time when Fain bent over the baby and chucked her beneath the chin, Biedy winked at Berry, her eyes bright with mischievous delight.
Berry was so deep in thought that when the object of those thoughts came through the dogtrot and stopped at the door, she was startled. Fain stood with an arm along the door frame, his lips pursed, his eyes squinted in thought.
“It’s plumb queer how womenfolk can take a perfectly good cabin and smell it all up with soap and flowers and honeycakes.” His voice boomed in the thick quiet of the room.
Rachel was suddenly busy straightening the candle holders, her back turned so the blush in her cheeks didn’t show.
“Go on wid ya, Fain. Ya ain’t never ate such good vittles in all your born days.” Biedy was never at a loss for words. Rachel blessed her, then wanted to choke her for what she said next. “If’n you had any gumption at all, you’d not let Rachel ’n’ Berry get one step off this here place. You ’n’ Simon been floatin’ ’round free long enough. It’s time ya took a wife, got ya some younguns while ya still can. Ya know what Silas says? He says them what don’t, sooner cain’t than them what does.”
Even Fain was at a loss for words. “Now . . . Biedy. Ah . . . I made somethin’ for Faith.” He stepped back, reached behind him, and came through the door holding his handy work in front of him.
“Oh . . .” The gasp came from Rachel. “Oh, Fain! A
cradle!”
“It ain’t very fancy, but the wood is smooth.” He set the cradle on the table and stood back, a shy grin on his face. “It’s the best white pine I could find on the place.”
“It’s beautiful!” Rachel’s eyes were shining.
“Well, I do declare! It’s sightly, Fain. Plumb sightly! But then I oughtta’ve knowed ya could do it, ’n’ easylike, too. Silas said ya was a great hand with tools.” Biedy shoved Faith into his arms. “Here, hold the youngun while we fix up some paddin’.”
“There’s a feather pillow in the wagon, Rachel. I’ll get it.” Berry quickly dusted the powdery cornmeal from her hands.
“You’ll need a wax cloth to cover,” Biedy called. “That youngun’s a fierce eater, sleeper, ’n’ wetter.”
Rachel’s eyes drank in the picture of Fain with her child in his arms. Their eyes met and she almost cried at the look on his face. It was a kind of desperate longing! Could it be for her? Her heart told her it was, but her mind said it couldn’t be. This man wasn’t like any man she had ever met before. And this was a new, wild, wonderful feeling she had for him—and scary, too.
The women made a big to-do about getting the cradle ready. Finally the padding was settled to Biedy’s satisfaction and a soft blanket was put in place. Fain had the honor of laying Faith in her new bed for the first time.
“It’s perfect!” The smile on Rachel’s lips matched the shine in her eyes. “It’s just the right height to keep off drafts, and so balanced I only need to give it a little nudge once in a while and it’ll keep rocking.”
“Wal, I’ll swan to goodness!” Biedy exclaimed. “It just keeps on a-rockin’. It’s big enough so she can sleep in it till she’s scrouged out by another youngun.”
Rachel’s cheeks flamed and Berry hurried to smooth things for her as she always did.
“If you can make something as fine as this, Fain, how come you’ve not made a settle chair or a gate-leg table?”
“What for?” His eyes twinkled, knowing she was filling the embarrassing silence that followed Biedy’s remark. “All I need is a stout chair ’n’ a table to eat ’n’ work on.”
“Humpt!” Biedy snorted. “I always thought ya was brainier ’n’ that! Womenfolk like a thin’ to brag on. Somethin’ not ever’body’s got.”
A rumble of laughter broke from Fain. “Do you think you ’n’ Berry can take care of things for a while so me ’n’ Rachel can walk off down by the river?”
“Well, I reckon! I thought ya wasn’t goin’ to ask. Get a-goin’ ’n’ do your courtin’. Silas will be a-comin’ fer me. He’s a marryin’ preacher, ya know. Married up a couple jist last week what come up from Saint Charles ’cause the magistrate was a-lolly-gaggin’ around down to Saint Louie.”
Rachel looked neither left nor right as she made for the door. Her heart was pounding, her knees were suddenly weak, and she had never felt so warm before in her life. Biedy’s words were like blisters on her face. Why, the very idea, for her to think that Fain . . . He must be as embarrassed as she was. She’d never be able to look at him now, no matter how wonderful her heart told her he was.
The evening breeze was pleasant against Rachel’s hot face, but she was not of a mind to notice. Extremely conscious of the man who walked beside her, she went down the path beneath the towering walnut, cottonwood, and sycamore trees to the sandbar and its miniature forest of willow and poplar seedlings that had sprung up with the coming of spring. Fleets of goslings and ducklings cruised in the backwater and Rachel paused to look and to smile. A whippoorwill swooped overhead, trailing his melodious repeated cry. Evening sounds echoed the peace and contentment of the end of the day with a chorus from the crickets and bullfrogs along the riverbank.
“You’re goin’ to have to look at me sometime, ya know.” Fain put his hand on her arm and pulled her to a halt beneath the overhang of a clay bank. “Are ya lettin’ what Biedy said get your goat?” He chuckled. “Biedy’s got a runnin’ off at the mouth, but she means well.”
“I know she does, but sometimes . . . she comes out with such personal . . . things. . . .” She couldn’t help but smile when she saw his grin.
“I didn’t need no nudgin’ from Biedy. All day I’ve been thinkin’ of ways to get ya off to myself.”
“I’m afeared we’ve been a great bother,” she said, disbelieving she had heard him correctly. She was stumbling for words, so surprised to find herself alone with him.
“Ya ain’t been no bother, lass. You’ve made me see how much pleasure it is to see a pretty woman ever’day.” There was something in the tone of his voice that drew her eyes to his face. She almost forgot to breathe, lost in the beauty and depth of his eyes, which seemed to be reaching out to her. “Do ya like it here, lass?”
“Here?”
“Here. On my land, in my house?”
Rachel took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves so she could answer. He moved closer to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “It’s a lovely place,” she whispered.
“It can be your home. Yours and Faith’s . . . if’n ya c’n take me with it.”
“Oh, Fain! You don’t have to feel responsible for us. You’ve already helped . . .”
“Responsible! Hell, lass, do ya think that’s why I’m a-askin’ ya to stay?” His arms drew her to him and hers went around his waist. She hid her face in the clean cloth of his shirt. “I don’t mind tellin’ ya I’ve been a-fightin’ it,” he whispered in her hair. “Then it hit me square that you and the babe could be movin’ on to Biedy’s or someplace else and the love I’ve got for you and the little button would be a-tearin’ me apart.”
Rachel felt a thrill catch hold of her and almost wrench her heart out of her breast. “Are you . . . sure?”
His hand tilted her face toward him. “I’ve never been so sure ’bout anythin’. I’ve got to kiss ya, lass. I’ve been a-wantin’ to for so long. . . .”
As she saw his face lowering to hers, she was instantly conscious of how badly she wanted his kiss. He set his lips on hers gently and she kissed him back. Desire spread out across her groin and down her thighs. She pressed her lips fiercely to his. His warmth suffused her and she pressed closer to the wonderful masculine strength of his body and inhaled his pleasing scent. The kiss deepened and was long; she could not bear to have it end. In it was the essence of love between them, the rich, warm, earthy mating of male and female.
He drew his lips from hers at last, and raised his head to look at her, and she smiled at him, then laughed joyously. The laughter rose within her and bubbled up in her throat in sheer delight. He had been struck with the same jolt that had struck her. “Is this really happening?”
“If not, it’s the best dream I’ve ever had!”
He caught her hand and drew her toward a grassy spot. He sank down, his arms encircling her skirts. For an instant he buried his face in the bodice of her dress. “Mmm, you smell so good.”
Then she was on his lap, swung back in his arms, looking up into his face.
“You’ll be mine, darlin’ girl,” he said in hushed tones. “My woman, in my house. I can come in and look at ya anytime I want.” He hugged her to him, and they began to laugh. They laughed like two children sharing a secret.
“Fain,” she whispered through his kisses. “Fain!” She clung to him, eyes closed, forgetting—not caring—that he had not yet said he loved her, only that he had a love for her and Faith, conscious only of his warm strong nearness and the darkness that enclosed them. With her arms about his neck, they kissed, soft, loving kisses, while they laughed and whispered.
“Do you love me, lass?”
“Yes, I do, Fain. Yes, I do.”
“I love you, too.”
“Oh, Fain, I might swoon, I’m so happy.”
“Don’t do that, lass. I want to kiss you some more.”
“I can’t believe that you love me. Say it again.”
“I love you, love you. I never thought I’d love again, but I do.”
“I’m so glad it’s me.”
“I do love you, lass. Oh, so much. I’ll be good to ya, keep ya safe as I know how.”
Sometime later, Rachel pulled herself back from his arms to whisper, “Fain, you know Asa never married me. I never was with him . . . willingly. You know that Faith . . .”
“Faith’ll have a pa to love her.” His fingers worked at the nape of her neck. “I was there to help put life in her. She’s mine.”
Rachel’s heart turned over. She wanted to cry, she wanted to sing. All the years spent without security or love in her life made his words the most beautiful she had ever heard. Yet, more had to be said.
“Berry’s almost like my own. I can’t leave her till . . .” she choked off the words.
“Ya didn’t think I’d turn her out, did ya, lass?” He kissed her hard on the lips. “Her home’s with us for as long as she wants.” He chuckled and Rachel could feel it against her full breasts. “It won’t be for long, I’m a-thinkin’. When Simon comes back and sees the calf eyes Fish makes at her, and after Biedy spreads the word upriver, she’ll have suitors aplenty.”
Rachel rested in the security of his arms. She had never felt so safe in her life as she felt here in the wilderness in this man’s arms. His fingers flicked gently over her body, touching her lightly through the thin cloth of her dress and tracing over the firm mounds of her breast. His caresses were gentle and loving, strangely devoid of passion. It was a delightful feeling for Rachel, who had known only the rough, cruel touch of a man’s hands.
Fain’s nose nuzzled her hair and she lifted her mouth and shaped it to his. Her lips clung, soft and sweet and hotly exciting. A husky growl came from his throat and he pulled away from her.
“It won’t always be like this, sweet lass,” he whispered shakily. “I’m a lusty man, but I’ll not hurt ya, or force ya. . . .”
“You’ll have to teach me loving,” she murmured, and melted once more into his arms.
“I’ll not have ya till you’re healed and a-wantin’ me. I can wait, if’n I can touch ya, hold ya . . . know you’re mine.” His voice was deep with feeling and she almost cried with the wonder of being loved and wanted.
Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01] Page 14