Wild legacy

by Conn, Phoebe

  would have to survive, or Etienne would have no hope of love. Then thinking such reasoning too selfish, he concentrated upon Falcon alone. Falcon was a good man and a fine friend, and Etienne's prayers flowed easily from his heart.

  When Dominique entered Falcon's room, she found her mother pacing nervously. Alanna was seated in the rocking chair she had brought over from her room, while Belle sat at the brave's bedside. "Why don't you get into bed with him, Belle?" Dominique suggested. "Your closeness will be a comfort to Falcon, won't it, Mother?"

  Arielle was surprised by her daughter's idea, as she had always felt people preferred to be alone when they were gravely ill. She studied Dominique's expression and was pleased by a newfound maturity. Like Falcon, Belle was a creature of the river and forest, and more at home outside than in, but Dominique was very different. She had always had great charm, and a gift for touching people. Arielle saw it now for the rare talent it might become.

  "You are right," she agreed softly. "Belle, you can snuggle up closely without touching Falcon's leg, and I do believe your presence will be a comfort to him."

  Falcon had been sleeping soundly, perhaps too soundly, since Arielle had reopened his wound, and she did not want his spirit to slip away in his dreams. The comfrey poultice would draw out the poisons making him so sick, but the herb required more time than he might have. "You do not mind, do you, Alanna?"

  "No. Not at all." Alanna continued to rock slowly in the chair where she had once rocked her babies. Her hands were folded tightly in her lap. She looked up as Johanna joined them, but her smile was faint. "Are the soldiers comfortable?"

  "They'll not wake before morning. What can I do here?"

  "Will you bring us a kettle of water and we'll set it on the fire to make some tea for ourselves," Arielle said.

  "Then we'll need five cups." Johanna left to see to the errand, and Belle, having been given permission to join Falcon on the bed, went around to the other side to climb up. She had never expected her mother and aunt to allow her to sleep with him, but being closer to him was a comfort to her as well. She plumped the pillow and curled up on her side next to him.

  She closed her eyes and sent him a loving prayer, but as she took his hand, he seemed to be even more feverish than he had been after his bath. She sat up again. "Mother, come touch him. He's awfully warm."

  Arielle crossed to the bed in an instant and placed her palm on Falcon's forehead. "Yes. His fever has worsened." She peeled back the sheet covering him. "Bring the pitcher and we will take turns bathing his skin with cool water. That will help to break the fever."

  "We ought to try and wake him," Dominique added. "He needs to drink more comfrey, or white willow tea."

  Belle called Falcon's name in an urgent plea, but the brave failed to respond. She slapped his face lightly, but he gave no sign he felt her touch. "Mother?" she asked fearfully.

  Alanna had come to the bed, and along with Arielle, Belle, and Dominique, gazed lovingly at her son. "If we can keep him cool until Hunter and Christian return, then perhaps—"

  She did not need to finish the sentence. The women joined hands for a moment and prayed that if Arielle's medicine failed to save Falcon, the Seneca's magic could.

  sadly. "I hope the False Face Society does not sound foolish to you."

  Hunter was not glancing his way, but Christian knew his answer was important to him. "Nothing about the Seneca has ever sounded foolish to me, Father, except, of course, for their stubborn loyalty to King George III. That was a grave error. I will take very good care of this mask, and some day teach my children about it. They are all too young now, but—"

  "No. They're not," Hunter cautioned. "When the False Face Society visits a longhouse to cure someone, the whole family is present. When we get home, we'll gather everyone who wants to watch. They all love Falcon, and want him well. We needn't give lessons on how to make the masks, but we can show everyone how they are used."

  Christian heard the pride in his father's voice and nodded. "I'm glad you already had a turtle shell rattle as I'd not have wanted to make one of those, too."

  Hunter sighed softly. "I have not taught you nearly enough."

  Christian could not agree. "You have taught me far more than most men teach their sons, and all of it valuable. I hope that I can teach my boys half as much. As for Liberty, she already knows more than a little girl should."

  "Just like her mother."

  "Yes. She favors Liana in all ways." Christian held his mask up and peered through it. It had taken a long while to bore out the holes for the eyes, but he could see well through them. "Are you ready to cut the horses' tails?" he asked.

  "Almost." Hunter rubbed stain down into the deep creases at the corners of the mouth, and then was ready. His stallion's white tail would make good hair, and after carefully laying the mask aside, he rose and drew his knife. "It will grow back, so hack off as much as you want," he advised his son.

  Christian's mount was a spirited black stallion that did not take kindly to his master's need for part of his tail. He danced sideways and kicked, and it wasn't until Hunter spoke to the horse sternly that he finally stood still for such an indignity. Hunter had no problems with his sorrel mount, and with a good-sized hank of white hair, he sat down to gouge tiny holes around the top half of his mask with the tip of his knife.

  "Let's hurry," he urged. "Arielle asked us to be home by sundown, but I'm anxious to get back before then. We'll need to cut two slender limbs for staves—then we'll be ready to go."

  Christian felt equally uneasy about being away too long and worked with renewed zeal to attach the hair quickly. "The war is coming back to Virginia, and it won't be confined to Portsmouth this time. I'll fight again, and willingly, but if I'm wounded, I want you and Falcon to wear these masks for me."

  "I'll help Falcon make his own," Hunter promised, "but I hope it will never be used." He threaded several strands of horsehair through the first hole, knotted it, and went on to the next. He refused to reflect upon the possibility that Falcon might not live to perform the curing ritual for another man. "I will fight again, too," he swore. "Virginia has given me too much for me to stay in the fields."

  "Good," Christian said, for he did not know a finer man to be by his side in battle. "The British will have no chance against us. They'll be cut to pieces as they were at King's Mountain."

  "And fed to the crows," Hunter added.

  Christian chuckled at that grisly image and began to thread the gleaming black horsehair onto his mask. He was pleased with it, despite the hasty carving. From what his father had said, they had strayed from two important traditions. They had not been inspired by dreams, nor taken three days to burn an offering of tobacco to ask the trees' for-

  giveness before taking a piece of its wood. He hoped those omissions did not doom their effort, and got up to toss a pinch of tobacco on the fire to appease the spirits of the trees as best he could. Then, as Alanna had taught him, he also asked for God's blessing.

  After midnight, Liana had joined the others tending Falcon, allowing Johanna to lie down in Dominique's room for a brief nap, but despite the women's exhaustive efforts, the injured brave's condition continued to deteriorate. Sweat poured off his body and soaked the bedclothes, and no amount of cool water eased his torment. Unconscious, he gave an occasional moan, but never opened his eyes.

  Jean came to the door at midmorning. "Hunter and Christian are back. They said anyone who wishes to observe may. I thought I should ask you first."

  Arielle came to the door to speak to her son. She dared not tell him that she feared all anyone could do now was bid Falcon a loving good-bye, and instead opened the door wide. "It is a large room. Everyone is welcome."

  Belle and Dominique were on the far side of the bed as the rest of the family began to file in. David brought his sons and they ran to Johanna. Liberty tame in, holding her three-year-old brother's hand, and Jean carried Christian's year-old baby boy. Byron entered and leaned against the
wall, followed by Etienne, who caught Dominique's eye and then moved aside. Many of the servants lined up in the hallway, but respectful of the situation, they remained outside.

  Dominique reached for Belle's hand and held on tight. They heard male voices intoning a rhythmic chant, accompanied by a rattling sound, pebbles bouncing inside Hunter's turtle-shell rattle, but they could not identify it until he came into view. Even after being warned the Seneca ritual required masks, none of them had expected such ghastly faces and when Hunter and Christian entered, there was a collec-

  tive gasp; frightened, Christian's youngest son began a high-pitched wail. Liana quickly plucked him from Jean's arms and carried him to the window to distract him.

  The braves tapped their staves on the floor in a brisk, thumping cadence and made straight for the fireplace. The fire had gone out before dawn and the ashes were cold. Each scooped up a handful, and with Hunter leading, they circled the room, sang, and sprinkled ashes on the heads of everyone gathered there. To continue the ritual, Christian returned to the fireplace and built a new fire. When it was burning brightly, he and his father moved to the bed.

  Their deep voices filled the room with the sacred chant of the Seneca, punctuated by the turtle-shell rattle. Hunter shook ashes along the length of Falcon's leg, then, taking care not to inflict more pain, rubbed them into his skin very gently. He sprinkled more ashes on the poultice, and this time blew them away. He again shook his rattle over his son and never breaking the rhythm of the ancient chant, led Christian from the room.

  Dominique was so tired she wasn't sure what she had just witnessed, but she did not consider the ritual nearly as strange as the masks Hunter and Christian had worn to perform it. She had actually found the sonorous chant comforting and hoped Falcon had heard it, too. He appeared to be breathing easier, which was an enormous relief, even if there was no other visible sign of improvement. She smiled at her family lining the room. From their weary and confused expressions, she doubted they had understood any more than she.

  "I think we can go now," she suggested softly, and with nods of agreement, everyone except Belle began to shuffle out slowly. When Dominique sent her sister a questioning glance, Belle shook her head. "I just need a moment's rest, then I'll be back," Dominique promised, but as she went out the door, Etienne took her hand.

  "You have not slept at all, have you?" he asked.

  "There was no time."

  "There is time now," he urged, and with a slight tug, encouraged her to come with him up the stairs. "You are very good with others, Dominique, but who takes care of you?"

  "I don't need anyone," she insisted, but she did not object when he followed her through her door. Her bed looked so wonderfully inviting, she did not even take the time to undress before she lay down and curled up on her side.

  Etienne came to the bed to remove her slippers and sat down to rub her feet. "Your feet are as pretty as the rest of you."

  "Hmm." As usual, Etienne had a magical touch, and after a few minutes of his gentle attentions her feet were no longer sore. Dominique knew it was improper for him to be in her room, and that she should send him away, but she could not seem to find the energy to do so.

  Etienne waited for a word of encouragement or appreciation, then realized from Dominique's easy breathing that she had fallen asleep. He ran his fingertips up her calf, and remembered how good the rest of her had felt. He leaned against the post at his back and tried to decide what to do. Someone had to drive the injured men home, and he was the logical choice, but he had not gotten much sleep last night either.

  He kicked off his shoes, removed his borrowed vest, and still clad in his shirt, gray pants, and stockings, curled up behind Dominique. He dropped his right arm over her waist to catch her hand, and snuggled close. He longed to make her love him with a passion that would bind them together for all time, but thus far, he had had scant success with that. He closed his eyes and wished they were again down by the river so he might have another chance to convince her to accept still more of his affection. For the moment, just holding her close was nice. She might not care all that

  much for him, but he felt certain she must like how he made her feel.

  It was a beginning.

  After leaving Falcon's room, Arielle and Byron sat down in the parlor for a few minutes, where each hoped Hunter's ceremony had given Falcon's body the time it needed to heal. They were both so tired, the fact they were now relying on a primitive ritual did not even strike them as odd. "I need to change my clothes, and then I must return to Falcon's room," Arielle said to her husband.

  "Let's just go to bed," Byron encouraged. "You said yourself you've done all you could."

  "Yes, that is true, but—"

  Byron helped her to her feet. "Come on. I insist. Belle and Dominique will know where to find you should you be needed."

  Her sense of responsibility clashing with her fatigue, Arielle did not give in until she realized that she must. "Let us pray that I am not called." She covered a wide yawn, but as they reached the landing, she veered toward Falcon's room. "I just want to check on him," she whispered, and Byron went on into their room.

  Arielle looked in on Falcon and found Belle asleep beside him. She tiptoed over to them, then, pleased that Falcon was resting so peacefully, saw no reason to disturb her daughter. She went on up to Dominique's room and rapped lightly at the door. When she did not respond, Arielle thought she might be elsewhere, but peeked in.

  A single glance made it apparent Dominique had fallen asleep the instant her head had touched her pillow, but Arielle could not believe her daughter would have invited Etienne LeBlanc to join her. She approached the bed, meaning to send him out of the room at once, but asleep, with

  his dark curls spilled over his forehead, he resembled his father so closely that she was taken aback.

  Dominique had been up here in her room when Arielle had told Belle and Falcon that she might have known Etienne's father, so Dominique had no reason to fear the young Frenchman. Were it not for harsh memories of Gaetan LeBlanc, Arielle would have thought them a handsome pair. After the awful way Sean O'Keefe had behaved, she hated to reveal Gaetan's history and perhaps prejudice her daughter against a young man who had already proven himself to be responsible.

  Because the day had been extraordinary, and fatigue made any serious contemplation impossible, rather than awaken Etienne and send him to his own room, Arielle turned and left the pair to enjoy what she assumed would be an entirely innocent nap. She could not manage anything else herself, and was grateful that Byron was sound asleep when she joined him in their bed.

  Etienne had felt Arielle's presence, and without having to open his eyes, had recognized her by her perfume. He had hoped she would be too tired to be provoked with him, and was relieved that had proved to be the case. He had to laugh to himself then because with such a lovely daughter, Arielle ought not to be so trusting.

  Hunter, Alanna, Christian, Liana, Johanna, David, and the children were gathered on the front steps. Hunter and Christian had left their masks upstairs, but the roles they had played were not as easily laid aside, Neither man spoke as the others expressed their hopes for Falcon's recovery. The eldest at five years, Liberty was the only child who really understood just how dire her uncle's situation was. While her brothers and cousins played on the steps, she stared at Hunter with a level gaze he could not ignore.

  "What is it, Liberty?" he finally had to ask. "Did our masks frighten you, too?"

  "I'm not one of the babies," the little red-haired girl replied proudly.

  Hunter caught her mother's eye. "Was she ever a baby?" he asked.

  Liana shook her head. "She was small, but never a baby. Liberty was born wise."

  "She has a good name then," Hunter said. He reached out his hand and Liberty came to him and leaned against his knee. She was an affectionate child and was frequently in her grandfather's arms.

  "Well, Miss Liberty," Hunter encouraged, "tell me what you think."
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  Liberty cocked her head, but her gaze was steady "I think Falcon is going to be angry he missed seeing you dance."

  Hunter laughed, but the rest of his family was still too frightened to appreciate the humor in Liberty's comment. "I hope he is furious," Hunter told her. "Then I'll know he's well."

  Liberty played with the fringe on his sleeve, then glanced over at her father. "Falcon's going to be mad at you, too."

  "I certainly hope so," Christian swore. "In fact, I'll be real disappointed if he isn't."

  "Do you want to go home, too?" David asked Johanna.

  "I don't know. Do we dare?" She searched her parents' faces for a hopeful sign but they both looked very tired, Johanna waited until she could not be overheard. "I'm still terrified we're going to lose Falcon."

  Alanna reached out to take her daughter's hand. Alanna had lost her whole family in an Indian raid when she was small, but once she had recovered from the horror of that day, they had continued to live on in her heart and mind. "No one is ever really lost, sweetheart, as long as someone who loved them remains alive. Happy memories last forever."

  Johanna was close to tears, but refused to give in to them. She rose and shook out her skirt. "I'm going up to stay with Belle and Falcon. Why don't you get some rest?"

  "Perhaps later." Alanna took her husband's hand as soon as they were alone. "Thank you," she whispered.

  "Do not thank me yet," Hunter warned.

  Alanna rested her head on his shoulder. "No. I want to thank you now for trying as best you could to save our son."

  Hunter could have done no less, but choked on tears, he could not refuse her gratitude.

  The sun had set before Dominique awakened from her nap; horrified to have slept so long, she left her bed and hurriedly lit a lamp. She went to the washstand and splashed water on her face, then, needing a change of clothes, stripped and washed her whole body clean. Praying that Falcon's condition had improved, she donned fresh lingerie, a rose silk gown, and restyled her hair atop her head.