Love and Cherish

by Dorothy Garlock

  “Ada didn’t strike Cherish . . . or Katherine?” Sloan asked, sudden anxiety making his voice sharp.

  “No, no!” Juicy’s booming voice was reassuring. “They be a’right. Ya see ta the little gal and git some sleep. Swanson an’ me’ll make a box for this ’un. An’ don’t go worryin’ none ’bout the babe. Ol’ True’s been watchin’ o’er ’er like a mama hen.”

  Katherine, dry-eyed and composed, draped a shawl about her shoulders.

  “Sir,” she said hesitantly, “the Indian girl didn’t do anything to cause Mistress Carroll to turn on her.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I left you alone with Ada. I didn’t realize she was so violent.”

  “Her uncle made her leave Virginia because of her temper, sir. She . . . beat one of his horses something awful. She hit the poor beast in the face and put out its eyes. Mister Robert had to shoot it. He was very angry and . . . just packed her off.”

  “What about you, Katherine? Why did he send you away with her when he knew what she was like?”

  “She wouldn’t go without me. And . . . she never whipped me until after we left. I had less than a year to serve her and I would be free. Do you understand why I had to . . . had to let her do what she did?”

  “You’re free of her now,” Sloan said wearily. “Free to go to Pierre. We’ll take care of your bond papers. Don’t worry about them.”

  Suffering the weariness of both mind and body, Sloan walked slowly past his brother’s dead wife lying wrapped in the sheet and ready for the grave. He went into the bedroom and closed the door.

  He wanted to be with Cherish. He needed to be with her.

  Suddenly he was desperate to know if it could ever be as it had been between them before Ada came. No, not just the same. This time he would hold nothing back. This time he would tell her, his beautiful Cherish, that she was his love, his life. That he had only begun to live the day he met her on the banks of the Kentucky River, that his heart was bound and tied . . . that his future, his happiness, depended on her. Only her.

  He would insist that she marry him when the first preacher reached the settlement in the spring.

  “Cherish?”

  At the sound of his voice she opened her eyes—wide, smoke-fringed, sky-blue eyes set in a pale face surrounded by flame-colored hair.

  “Sloan?” she whispered. “Minnie Dove? She was so . . . brave—”

  “She did what she had to do.”

  “I’m . . . sorry. She was . . . the babe’s mother.”

  “Ada gave birth to her. You, my love, are her mother.” He was kneeling beside her. His tired, anxious face was close to hers.

  “Is she with True?”

  “Yes, he’s taking care of her. Are you all right?”

  “I’m all right. But you look so tired.” Her fingers touched his cheek, rough with several days’ growth of whiskers. He captured them and held them to his mouth.

  “I am tired, but more than that . . . much more than that . . . I need you! I need you!”

  The unexpected words filled her heart with joy. Encouraged to go on by the tender look in her eyes, the sweet smile on her lips that were tantalizingly close to his own, he continued.

  “I have never been so frightened in all my life. When I discovered you were gone, I was so afraid I had lost you. I prayed that I’d get another chance to tell you how important you are to me . . . how much I need you. I need you for . . . me.”

  He buried his face against her shoulder and was very still.

  “I knew you would come for me.” Her hand moved to the back of his neck, and her fingers caressed the thick dark hair. “I was so scared, but I kept telling myself over and over, ‘Sloan will come. Sloan will come.’ And . . . when I needed you the most, you were there.”

  With his face against her, breathing in the warm scent of her, Sloan knew the first peaceful moments since the day Ada arrived. He could feel the quiet measured beat of her heart, and he knew that if that beating should stop, his world would end.

  The minutes slipped away. After a while he raised his head and studied her face. He stroked her hair and draped a strand behind her ear. He traced her straight brows with his fingertip and touched the dark circles beneath her eyes. His thumb caressed the hollows in her cheeks.

  His hand trembled.

  Feeling it, Cherish was convinced of the truth of his words: he needed her as much as she needed him.

  “Everything will be all right, Sloan.” Her voice was tranquil and infinitely tender.

  He searched his mind for the right words to say.

  “There’s so much to explain. So much.”

  “It can wait.”

  “No. Not all of it.” He shook his head, his eyes caressing her. “I need to tell you how much I love you. My heart is bound and tied and held in these small hands.” He brought her fingers to his lips. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before now. I don’t think I knew how to say the words.”

  Cherish stared into his eyes. Was she dreaming? Could it be that her longing to hear just these words had made fantasy stronger than reality? This was a side of him, a vulnerable side, she had not seen before. He was always so strong, so positive, so sure of himself. She never expected to ever see him so humble.

  “Oh, my dear!” She lifted her arms to encircle him and draw him down to her. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say it.”

  He lowered his head to reach her mouth, his lips moving sensuously against hers, their tenderness releasing a response in her that she had always before held in check, fearing her love was not returned. But now . . . now there was nothing to hide, to fear, and she ached with the need to show him her love.

  Her response brought a deep moan from his throat, and he gathered her close.

  “I love you so much, so much.” He was trembling as he put her from him so he could look into her face. “Sweeting, after what you’ve been through, I must be careful. It would kill me if I hurt you.”

  Her mouth curved in involuntary delight at his remark. Gently she touched his face, her eyes full of love for him. Her smile was radiant and her face held nothing but tenderness.

  “Don’t be afraid to hold me. I’m much stronger than I look.”

  He smiled a little and touched her lips again ever so gently with his. It was the sweetest kiss Cherish had yet received. They were silent for a while, gazing at each other. Then she whispered:

  “There’s room for you.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” His tired face creased in a smile, the dimples showing in his cheeks. He kissed her again, not so gently this time. “I’ve missed our nights together.”

  “I couldn’t . . . with Ada here.”

  “I hated her for keeping us apart.”

  “Don’t think about her. She was . . . sick.”

  “I hope Slater knows . . . the reason she acted as she did. She broke his heart.”

  “He knows, my love. We have his child. We’ll tell her about him when she’s old enough to understand.”

  “Ah, love. I want to hold you, sleep with you in my arms. I thought that I might never lie beside you again. When I saw that scum with their hands on you, I wanted to kill them. John made me wait until the time was right. I hope never to have to go through such a night again!”

  “Don’t think about it,” she urged. “It’s over.”

  “I want to tell you so many things about me and Slater and . . . Ada. But not now. I’ll wait until you’ve rested. Now I want to lie beside you and hold you. Are you sure you’re all right?” He smoothed the tumbled, shimmering hair back from her face.

  “I feel wonderful!” She laughed. “Glorious! If I felt any better, I would . . . would swoon.”

  She lifted the covers. He stood and quickly removed his clothes.

  “Get some sleep,” she said as he slipped into the bed and gathered her close. “Tomorrow we can talk and you can tell me everything. Then, in a week or two,” she added shyly, “you can plant another seed.”

  EPI
LOGUE

  In the spring, Cherish, Sloan, Orah Delle and the other residents of the settlement waved good-bye to John Spotted Elk and Minnie Dove as they departed for the Shawnee summer camp. The violence at the beginning of the winter had drawn the group into a close family-like unit.

  Cherish and Minnie Dove had become friends—more than friends. The fondness they felt for each other was more like the affection between sisters. Minnie Dove gradually became reconciled to her way of life and no longer wished to live in the “white man’s lodge.” She confessed to Cherish that she was looking forward to another meeting with Black Fox, the brave her brother had picked to be her husband months ago. She had rejected him at the time, viewing him with the eyes of her white blood.

  John Spotted Elk visited the cabin often. His gaze would often linger on the girl he called Morning Sun. Seeing this, Sloan felt a sadness for his blood-brother, whose white blood “called out” to Cherish and whose anxiety had been as great as his own the night she had been taken by river renegades.

  Brown went into convulsions on the night Cherish was taken and was mercifully put out of his misery by True, who couldn’t bear to see the animal suffer. He was buried beside Sloan’s cabin. Sloan and Cherish wept unashamedly when they stood for the first time beside the grave of the faithful dog who had led them through the blizzard to safety.

  Ada was buried on the hill beside her husband. True carved a marker for her grave as he had done for Slater’s:

  ADA ELIZABETH CARROLL

  1754–1779

  25 YEARS OLD

  Slater’s cabin was now Katherine’s and Pierre’s. The English girl had bloomed like a winter rose. Pierre idolized her. Like Cherish and Sloan, they were waiting for a preacher to come along and marry them, but as they were expecting a baby before the end of summer, Pierre laughed uproariously whenever they spoke of it.

  “Mon Dieu, Sloan,” he said, patting Katherine’s protruding abdomen. “We will tell heem my little chérie swallow a pumpkin seed.”

  “Stop teasing me, Pierre,” Katherine retorted. “You’ll say no such thing!” Then, wistfully, “If that preacher doesn’t come soon, I’ll have to stand behind the door during the ceremony.”

  Pierre’s laughter rang out and he hugged her to him.

  “No, no, my little one. You stay by Pierre, even if you hold two babes in your arms.”

  Mister Swanson and his grandson decided to stay in the settlement and ferry supplies for Sloan; and so another room had to be added to the new cabin. Both True and Juicy had taken a liking to Farrway, much to the relief of the old man. He had been worried that he might die before the lad was able to fend for himself.

  When the last Shawnee canoe was around the bend and out of sight, the group by the shore straggled back up the path toward the cabins.

  “I’ll miss Minnie Dove,” Cherish said wistfully.

  “They’ll be back in a few months, sweetheart. Besides, you still have me,” Sloan teased.

  She tilted her head back, her eyes sparkling.

  “Yes! Yes, I have you. Oh, how I do love you, Sloan.”

  With his arm about her waist, they moved on up the slope toward the cabin. He stopped and kissed her and kissed her until Orah Delle tugged at his hand.

  “Impatient child,” he scolded gently, his eyes warm with happiness. “Let me kiss your beautiful mama.”

  Cherish took the child’s other hand and they walked on swinging her between them. Sloan stopped once again and brushed Cherish’s hair with his lips.

  “No regrets that you didn’t let Pierre take you back to Virginia?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “None,” she assured him firmly, turning her head to meet his lips. Her heart soared as it did each time he declared his love.

  He held her to him with his free arm. “I couldn’t bear life without you. Fate was kind when she let me meet you on the banks of the Kentucky. I pray each day she will be generous and let me keep you by my side . . . always.” His voice was husky with emotion.

  Cherish loosened her hand from the child’s grip and wound her arms about his neck. Raising her lips to meet his, she whispered:

  “Not only in this life, my love, but . . . beyond.”

  INDIAN PUDDING

  (1828 recipe)

  1 cup (not quite full) molasses, 1 cup (not quite full) corn meal, 1 egg, 1 heaping spoonful of butter or fat, salt, ginger or cinnamon to taste, all beaten together. Full quart sweet milk put on to boil and these ingredients stirred in. Take from fire and add not quite a full cup of cold milk. Pour into pan onto lumps of butter. Bake one hour. Extra good.

  (Modern recipe)

  4 cups plus 2/3 cup milk

  2/3 cup yellow cornmeal

  3/4 cup molasses

  2 eggs, beaten

  1 tablespoon butter

  1/2 teaspoon salt

  1 teaspoon ginger or cinnamon

  Preheat the oven to 275° F.

  Heat 3 cups of the milk in the top part of a double boiler over boiling water. Mix 1 cup of milk and the cornmeal. Stir into the hot milk. Combine the molasses, beaten eggs, butter, salt, and ginger and add to the cornmeal and milk mixture. Cook over low heat until the mixture thickens slightly. Remove from heat and add the remaining 2/3 cup milk. Pour into a buttered 2-quart casserole and bake for 2 hours. Serve warm or cool with whipped cream. Makes 8 servings.

  ALMOST EDEN

  Dear Reader Friend,

  Many of you have asked me to write the story of Maggie Gentry and Babtiste Lightbody, the fey woods sprite and the French/Indian scout. Light was introduced in WILD SWEET WILDERNESS, Light and Maggie in ANNIE LASH. ALMOST EDEN, is their story.

  Maggie was Light’s world. He loved her more dearly than life. Together they journeyed from the Mississippi River to the Rocky Mountains at a time when few white men had made the journey. Light built a home for his love on a mountain top in Colorado. They later became the great-grandparents of Lorna who lived on Light’s Mountain in WAYWARD WIND.

  Light and Maggie’s love story became a legend in the Rocky Mountains and was passed down from generation to generation among both the Indian and the Wascium.

  I am always grateful for your comments about my stories. Through your letters I have improved my craft and made lasting friendships. My address: Dorothy Garlock, c/o Warner Books, 1271 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  Dorothy Garlock