Love and Cherish

by Dorothy Garlock

  Katherine stood behind her chair again while Ada daintily picked at her food. She complained about the tea being too strong, and the mush being too thin. The bread was doughy and the butter old, although it had been churned the day before. Cherish bristled at the criticism, then was secretly glad Ada could find fault with the food and secretly prayed that she would detest it so much she would leave.

  It was mid-morning when Sloan and Juicy returned, dragging a fresh-killed deer. They dressed the animal and brought a choice cut of venison to Cherish. She cut the meat into small cubes, put it into the heavy iron pot, added salt and several dippers of water, and swung it over the flames to simmer slowly.

  True came to check on Pierre and found him sleeping. He warned Cherish to be sure to keep him warm, then left again, ignoring Ada.

  The men did not come in for a noon meal. The leftovers from the Thanksgiving feast would be enough for the day. Cherish knew that was not the reason they were staying away, but she said nothing and sent more bread, butter and a crock of honey over to the cabin with Sloan.

  By early afternoon the broth was ready. Cherish set a mug of it out in the snow to cool, then sat beside Pierre and spooned it into his mouth. Katherine hadn’t come near him all morning, although Cherish had seen her glance his way when Ada’s attention was occupied. As Cherish fed Pierre, his eyes searched the room, and they lingered on Katherine’s thin figure when she came into view.

  He whispered her name.

  Cherish bent low and murmured in his ear. “She’s all right. Sloan is watching.”

  Pierre’s dark eyes held Cherish’s and he nodded, then closed his eyes. Her heart went out to him. She was sure now that he was deeply in love with the bound girl. He must feel so helpless lying there unable to shield the woman he loved from Ada’s viciousness.

  * * *

  Ada was being pleasant. She spoke kindly to Katherine, hummed softly to herself and even moved out of Cherish’s way when Cherish put bread in the side oven.

  Casually she set about winning Orah Delle. She never tried to touch her, but with bribes and song and verse she finally coaxed the child to toddle over to where she sat in the fur-lined chair and lean against her knee. Then, with the cameo as an inducement, Orah Delle allowed Ada to pick her up and set her on her lap. Ada crooned and jostled her, even let her muss her hair.

  Her actions seemed so completely out of character that Cherish was baffled. Judging from the look on Katherine’s face, Cherish was sure this was something out of the ordinary for Ada to do.

  The sight of the child and Ada together was almost more than Cherish could endure. She went so far as to admit to herself that she was jealous and scolded herself for being so petty. And then something happened to make her heart soar.

  Ada was talking to the child. “Do you like to play with your mama, darlin’? Your mama will find you some pretty ribbons for your hair.”

  “Mama!” Orah Delle shrieked and wiggled out of Ada’s embrace and off her lap. “Mama! Mama!” She came across the room as fast as her chubby little legs could carry her, seized Cherish’s skirt and tried to pull herself up in her arms.

  Cherish picked her up and hugged her. “I’m here, lovey.”

  “Mama girl,” Orah Delle said and wrapped her arms around Cherish’s neck and looked back at Ada.

  “Yes, you’re my sweet girl.” Cherish kissed her rosy cheek.

  “Mama rock,” Orah Delle demanded, her arms tight around Cherish’s neck and her little legs about her waist.

  “Mama has things to do, but we’ll rock for a little while.”

  She started toward the rocking chair and stopped. Glancing over Orah Delle’s head, she saw a look of pure hatred on Ada’s no-longer-beautiful face. In a matter of seconds her face had twisted into an ugly mask. The venom that shot from her eyes froze Cherish on the spot.

  CHAPTER

  * 19 *

  A cold chill crept up Cherish’s back and her knees began to tremble, yet she looked straight into the hate-filled eyes. When Ada got to her feet and walked toward her, Cherish did not move. A fierce desire not to allow the woman to intimidate her burned in her. Although she was frightened by so much hate, she refused to allow her fear to show.

  “Slut!” Ada stopped not a foot from Cherish and spat the word in her face. “The brat may prefer you now. So may Sloan, but not for long. I know him. I’ve known him all my life. I know what he needs in bed and out. He’ll stay with you for a while. You’re something new to him. He’s not had a backwoods slut before. But in the end, he’ll choose me and . . . our daughter.”

  The heat of anger melted Cherish’s fear.

  “Call me that name again and I’ll scratch your eyes out!” she blurted angrily.

  Ada tossed her head contemptuously. “You’ve just proved what I said. You would never fit with the Carrolls. You have no breeding.”

  “Breeding! If you are an example of breeding, I’m glad I don’t have any.”

  Orah Delle began to whimper, and Cherish tried to soothe her by swaying back and forth.

  “You poor silly little fool. Where did you come from? Certainly not from a respectable family. You look more like the riffraff that lives on the river. Did Sloan pick you up somewhere and feel sorry enough for you to bring you here? So that’s it! I can see it in your face. You’re as easy to read as you will be to get rid of.”

  “You may think you know Sloan, Ada,” Cherish’s voice shook with fury. “But in the end you will be the one to go.”

  “Don’t count on it, nursemaid, whore, river slut—”

  Cherish was so angry her eyes burned. If not for having Orah Delle in her arms she would have smashed the woman’s hateful face.

  “You couldn’t be the mother of this sweet child,” she shouted. “You’re a mean, vicious woman. And if you—”

  The door opened.

  Sloan stood there looking from one woman to the other. Behind him stood a tall Indian brave with a somber, handsome face.

  “What’s going on here?” Sloan’s eyes slid over Ada, then back to Cherish, who met his glance in silence. He stepped inside, the Indian after him. After closing the door, he repeated, “What’s going on?”

  “She told me to go,” Ada said pitiously, looking meek and innocent. “She told me to go and leave my baby.”

  “She did?” Sloan looked at Cherish.

  Ada pointed an accusing finger. “She . . . she said you would choose her over me and . . . and our baby.”

  “Cherish wouldn’t say a thing like that.”

  “Ask her, Sloan! Ask her. If you don’t believe me, ask Kat. Kat! Come tell Sloan what this . . . nursemaid said.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” Sloan said firmly. “Go to the bedroom, Ada. I want to talk to Cherish.”

  “Of course, Sloan, honey,” Ada purred. “Come, Kat. I need you to rub my back.”

  Cherish could have cried, but deliberately she raised her eyes to Sloan’s. He looked steadily at her a moment, then turned away to remove his coat. Cherish sat Orah Delle down in a chair and gave her a piece of bread.

  The Indian who had come in with Sloan had remained standing beside the door. Now Cherish was suddenly conscious of his eyes on her. Blushing, she turned to look at him.

  He was tall and handsome, the color of bronze, with midnight-black hair in braids on either side of his strong-boned face. He wore deerskin leggings and fur-lined moccasins. A white fur robe was draped over his broad shoulders. His eyes were dark and fathomless. When they met hers, he did not look away.

  “Cherish, this is my brother and friend, John Spotted Elk,” Sloan said, coming up behind her. “John, Mistress Cherish Riley.”

  “I’m honored, Mistress Riley.” The Indian’s voice was deep and smooth. He spoke English tinged with a faint French accent. He didn’t offer his hand to her, but to Sloan, who took it and shook it vigorously. “Your woman is like the morning sun, Light Eyes. Her beauty climbs across the sky to warm your heart.” The dark eyes, alight with pleasu
re, swung back to Cherish. “My brother has chosen well.”

  Cherish blushed. She could not look at Sloan.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Mister John Spotted Elk. I’ve heard about a few adventures you and Sloan have had.” Her eyes lit up with mischief and she laughed. “I don’t know what to call you!”

  He looked down at her solemnly for a moment, and then his face brightened with a smile. It was plain that he was fascinated by her.

  “Call me John. My mother was French and refused to call me anything but John.”

  “That’s a relief!” Cherish laughed again. “And you must call me Cherish.”

  “Cherishe.” He gave the name a French pronunciation.

  “That’s near enough.” Sloan was amused. “Leave your robe there on a peg and come look at Pierre.”

  Cherish stepped aside to let John pass. He was so tall, she felt like a child beside him. The confrontation with Ada had left her shaken, but it was almost forgotten in the pleasure of meeting Sloan’s Indian friend.

  John went to squat down beside Pierre’s bunk. The Frenchman was awake, and it was clear the two men had a strong liking for each other. They conversed in French, in low tones, then John removed Pierre’s bandages so he could examine the wound.

  Sloan carried the blood-soaked bandages to a bucket of water beside the washstand while John looked closely at the wound, then leaned over to smell it. Finally he nodded approval.

  Cherish handed clean bandages to Sloan, then moved back out of the way so they could wrap Pierre’s midsection with the linen. When they had finished, John knelt beside the bunk and continued to talk to Pierre. Sloan joined her at the worktable.

  “We’re taking Pierre to the other cabin so True can look after him,” Sloan told her.

  She was surprised at that. “Do you think it’s safe to move him?”

  “I think so. It isn’t that you haven’t done a good job caring for him. It’s other things. He has to be washed and he has to . . . relieve himself. And, well, he wants to go. He thinks it would make things easier for Katherine.”

  “It might at that,” Cherish agreed. Then, wishing to ease the tension between them over what had passed between her and Ada, she said: “Sloan, about . . . Ada . . . what I said was—”

  He cut her off. “We’ll not talk about it now. I can imagine what Ada said to you. But try not to irritate her . . . please.” To her utter amazement, he walked away.

  Cherish sat quietly, her heart heavy, while they prepared to move Pierre. John Spotted Elk went out and returned with a litter. He put this on the floor alongside the bunk. After wrapping Pierre in a heavy fur robe, and being careful not to break open his wound, they gently lifted him to the litter. He lay with his eyes closed, weary from the exertion.

  Cherish felt John Spotted Elk’s eyes on her again. She was used to being looked at, but there was something about the intensity of the Indian’s dark gaze that made her immediately aware each time his eyes found her. Not looking at him, she went to where Pierre lay and knelt down.

  “I’ll look after Katherine,” she whispered. “Don’t worry.”

  His eyes opened. He whispered weakly: “Tell her . . . I love her, chérie.”

  Her eyes brightened with tears. She kissed his whiskered cheek. “I’ll tell her.”

  When she stood, Sloan and John were looking at her curiously. She smiled at them.

  “Good-bye, John.” She held out her hand.

  He scarcely touched her fingers before releasing them.

  “Not good-bye, Morning Sun.” His eyes held hers for a long moment before he bent to pick up the litter.

  As she held the cabin door open for them, Cherish noticed smoke coming from the Shawnee lodge and horses tied under the trees. Indian women were moving supplies into the lodge. She looked at the broad back of John Spotted Elk. These must be his people. Before closing the door, she looked at the women again and wondered if one of them was Minnie Dove, John Spotted Elk’s sister.

  Cherish hated being alone in the cabin with Ada and Katherine and decided busy hands were the best solution. She tied Orah Delle in the high chair and moved her close to the table so she could play with the small animal figures True had carved and polished for her. For the next couple of hours, Cherish worked, keeping her mind as blank as possible.

  She made another batch of bread and set it aside to rise. She scrubbed the workbench and the trestle table, put cabbage and bacon in the pot to boil. She changed the bed linen on the bunk where Pierre had lain and rolled his clothes and personal things into his heavy coat, leaving the bundle by the door for Sloan to take to the other cabin.

  In all this time, she hadn’t heard a sound from the bedroom. When Ada came up behind her and spoke, Cherish was so startled her heart jumped.

  “Well,” Ada said. “I trust you’ve learned your lesson and know your place.”

  Don’t irritate her. Sloan’s words popped into Cherish’s mind and she didn’t answer. Instead she went to the contraption True had made for her to set beside her chair. It was a three-legged tripod supporting a deerskin bag. She took her knitting from it and, ignoring Ada completely, began to knit.

  Ada went on talking. “So John Spotted Elk and his sister are moving into the lodge. That will make it handy for Sloan. And you, nursemaid? Have you ever fornicated with an Indian? That John Spotted Elk is an attractive stud. He’s half-French, you know. I bet he’d be a demon in bed. I’d like to try him. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no. But then Sloan could never say no, either.”

  Cherish’s silence did not bother Ada. She wandered about the room and talked about the things she and Slater and Sloan had done when they were young . . . how the two brothers had vied for her favors.

  “Slater was always jealous of Sloan. And Sloan was randy as a billy goat.” Ada laughed as if remembering. “He wasn’t at all discreet in his affairs. I caught him with one of my friends and just for spite I married Slater.”

  Ada went to the window. “Minnie Dove has had her eye on Sloan since the day he came here. She’s the chief’s daughter, you know. I’ve caught them together more than once . . . swimming naked in the river, lying under the willows—”

  Cherish tried to close her ears to the words, knowing that the woman was deliberately trying to provoke her. What she said about Sloan and the Indian girl cut into Cherish like a knife. Oddly enough, it also bothered her to think of Ada with John Spotted Elk.

  The day passed with dreadful slowness. Cherish wanted to put on her shawl and go out into the fresh air, but she was afraid to leave Orah Delle and Katherine alone with Ada. Ada made sure that Cherish and Katherine didn’t get a chance to speak to each other. She knew that Katherine was anxious to hear about Pierre, and Cherish suspected that Ada was enjoying prolonging Katherine’s anxiety as long as possible.

  The evening was disastrous as far as Cherish was concerned. She felt uncomfortable sitting at the table with Sloan and Ada while Katherine stood behind Ada’s chair. She would have preferred to wait and eat with the bound girl, but she wouldn’t give Ada satisfaction by demoting herself to the status of a servant.

  Cherish ate sparingly, tending to Orah Delle’s needs and listening to the trivial chatter between Sloan and the woman who wanted him. She was baffled by Sloan’s attitude . . . and disappointed. He talked with Ada about people and places they both knew, making no attempt to draw Cherish into the conversation. Although she laughingly coaxed Orah Delle to eat, Cherish’s spirits sank lower and lower. As soon as the child finished the last bite, she took her from the table without as much as a word to Sloan and went to the bedroom.

  After washing the child, she dressed her for bed, then sat with her in the rocking chair before the fire. Ada had taken over this room she had enjoyed. Her robe was draped over the end of Cherish’s bed, her boxes lined the wall, her brushes, combs and mirror sat on the table beside the wardrobe along with a selection of perfumes and powders.

  Cherish tried not to allow her thoughts to dwell on Sloan and
Ada, only on this small bundle she held in her arms. This baby needed her to stand between her and the mother who did not love her, but only wanted to use her to get the man she lusted for. When Orah Delle was asleep, Cherish tucked her into her crib, gently kissed her rosy cheeks and reluctantly returned to the other room.

  Sloan and Ada sat in the chairs before the fire. Katherine was sitting at the workbench with a plate of food. When Cherish began to clear the table, Sloan brought the heavy copper kettle from the fireplace and poured hot water into the basin for her. She murmured “thanks” without looking at him. He replaced the kettle and sat down again, picking up the conversation with Ada. At that moment, Cherish would have enjoyed tipping the water over both of them.

  Katherine finished her meal and moved to help Cherish, but Ada’s voice stopped the girl.

  “Kat, I need you to mend the shawl you tore on the boat coming down. I will want it tomorrow, so you must work on it tonight.” Her tone was sweet, as if she were talking to a friend. The hypocrisy of it turned Cherish’s stomach. Her gaze flew to Sloan to see if he had noticed, but he was staring into the fire.

  Cherish took unnecessarily long with the cleanup. The two before the fire disturbed her almost more than she could endure. When she finished, she lit a candle and, knowing it would irritate Ada, carried it into the bedroom, where Katherine was trying to mend the shawl by the light of the fire.

  “It’s foolish for you to have to sit in here doing that by the light of the fire. You’ll strain your eyes.” She spoke loudly enough to be sure her voice carried to Ada. After she put the candle down, she leaned over to whisper:

  “Pierre asked me to tell you that he loves you. He thought it would make things easier for you if he went to the other cabin. He’ll find a way to get you away from her. Don’t worry. I’m happy for you, Katherine. Pierre’s a good man.”

  “Thank you,” Katherine murmured, tears glittering in her eyes.

  Cherish squeezed her hand, then returned to the other room and picked up her knitting.