Far From Home

by Val Wood

  ‘That’s right,’ Lake replied. ‘This is for the women. We sleep outside.’

  ‘But we’ll get soaked if it rains!’ he spluttered and Georgiana and Kitty both turned away to hide their amusement at his red-faced annoyance.

  ‘Isn’t there a cabin nearby?’ Charlesworth asked angrily. ‘I cannot stay outside all night. What about wolves?’

  ‘We’ll stay by the fire. Wolves won’t come near. And I’ve got a gun. Water your horse,’ Lake said abruptly, ‘and tether her safely. They don’t like thunder.’

  The fire was no sooner lit and sending up spirals of smoke than the rain started and they dashed for shelter. ‘Please. Do come into the tent!’ Georgiana called. The two men had crawled into the hollow beneath the cleft and were sheltering under another piece of canvas. ‘At least until it stops raining.’

  ‘It won’t stop raining, lady,’ Lake answered. ‘Not until morning.’

  ‘I shall certainly come in, if you will allow me,’ Charlesworth said, rushing towards the tent. ‘He’s not much of a scout, if you ask me,’ he grumbled as he crawled in under the canvas. ‘I’m sure there’ll be another cabin along the route.’

  ‘But we’d get wet going to it,’ Georgiana said, moving up to make room for him. ‘I’m quite sure that Lake knows what he’s doing.’

  ‘This is another reason why I’m glad to be out of this mining business,’ Charlesworth said irritably. ‘I’m out of my depth here. There’s got to be another trail through to the valley! This fellow told me that this is the only one, but I’m not sure that I believe him. I know that Dreumel goes in from Philadelphia, but I can’t work out which route he takes.’

  Georgiana was silent. When she had asked Lake if there was another trail he had raised his eyebrows in a non-committal manner, but he hadn’t said that there wasn’t. And she had the feeling that this return journey was over more formidable terrain than when they had come. Certainly she hadn’t remembered this particular clearing. Was Lake making it more difficult for them?

  ‘I’d like to ask you a question, Mr Charlesworth,’ she ventured, and had to raise her voice as the noise of the rain increased.

  ‘Yes, my dear Miss Gregory.’ He shuffled around to make himself comfortable, which meant that Georgiana and Kitty had to move up even more to accommodate him. ‘I will answer it if I can.’

  ‘I only wondered. How much are you asking for your stake in the mine?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Charlesworth laughed and patted her knee in a patronizing and overfamiliar manner, then let his hand linger. She smiled as if she didn’t mind, then slowly placed her hand over his and removed it.

  ‘I like a little gamble now and again,’ she said in a girlish voice. ‘I’m sure Mrs Charlesworth does too.’

  He cleared his throat at the reminder that he had a wife. ‘Occasionally,’ he admitted. ‘On the horses. But never in business matters.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said sweetly. ‘We women couldn’t be expected to know of such things.’ She heard Kitty give a snort and turn over in her blanket. ‘But in fact, Mr Charlesworth, I would like to buy into a gold mine, just to say I have done it, you know! But I would have no idea how to find another such as Mr Dreumel’s, unless I went to California of course.’

  ‘Preposterous!’ he exclaimed. ‘A young woman such as you? Why, the place is swarming with thieves and roughnecks, you’d lose all you had within days of arriving.’

  ‘I couldn’t afford a great deal, you understand,’ she continued, as if she hadn’t been listening to him. ‘But I have some ready money. Sovereigns and American eagles. I believe they are better than paper money?’ She put on an innocent expression and was pleased to see a glimmer of interest. ‘Perhaps we could speak of it in the morning?’

  He didn’t make any attempt to move out of the tent when Georgiana wrapped her blanket around her and lay down to sleep, and she reconsidered her imprudence in suggesting that he and Lake should shelter with them. Though I can hardly blame Charlesworth, she thought. The rain was coming down in torrents and the forked lightning lit up the tent. As the thunder cracked over them, Kitty drew deeper into her blanket and made little whimpering sounds.

  ‘It’s all right, Kitty,’ Georgiana murmured. ‘It’s only noise. It can’t hurt.’

  ‘But suppose the mountain falls down, or some of the trees get hit by lightning?’ Kitty peered out of the blanket, her face red and her eyes frightened. ‘We might get killed.’

  ‘I’m sure this is why Lake chose this place,’ Georgiana said. ‘We’re well sheltered here.’

  She slept fitfully, aware always of Mr Charlesworth’s presence. He snored and shuffled and turned so constantly that eventually she gave up trying to sleep and lay with her eyes wide open, thinking still of Wilhelm Dreumel and his shattered dreams.

  Presently the rain eased and the only sounds were the drip drip of raindrops and the gush of the stream. Then she heard the solitary call of a bird, and slipping out of her blanket she stepped over Charlesworth and crawled out of the tent. Lake was standing at the edge of the clearing, looking down the mountainside, and she saw that at some stage of the night he had brought the four horses into the hollow under the shelter of the cleft.

  He saw her looking at them and signalled her to come. ‘They were frightened of the thunder,’ he said softly, ‘so I brought them in with me.’

  She smiled. So he wasn’t such a hard man as he had appeared to be.

  ‘Not sentiment, lady,’ he said curtly. ‘Without the horses we travel on foot.’

  Her smile faded. How foolish of her. A man like him must be aware of all possibilities at all times. But his abrupt manner disappeared as he again beckoned her near.

  ‘Watch,’ he said softly, pointing towards the east. A slim finger of gold was rising in the sky behind a mountain range. It touched the rain-spattered needles of pine and fir trees which covered the slopes, making them sparkle and shimmer. As the finger grew wider and broader and the gold transformed to flame-red and orange, it flushed and illuminated the green valley, turning the fast-running babbling streams into liquid gold.

  ‘Beautiful,’ she breathed, hardly daring to speak lest she break the moment.

  ‘This is the best place in the world to see the sunrise,’ he murmured. ‘And I have seen many.’

  ‘And you never tire of them?’ she asked.

  ‘Never.’ He shook his head. ‘You’re cold?’ he said as she shivered.

  ‘I left my shawl in the tent. But no matter, I wouldn’t miss this.’ She let her gaze follow the changing kaleidoscope of colour.

  He unbuttoned his leather coat. ‘Come.’ He put out his hand and drew her towards him. He opened the garment and wrapped it around her, enclosing her within his arms. She stood perfectly still, hardly daring to move or breathe, a flush suffusing her cheeks. She had never been so close to a man before. Never been so close to anyone, not even her parents when she was a child. She was facing away from him and felt the heat of his body warming her back and shoulders, and his arms encircling her waist.

  ‘I have never shared this view before,’ he said softly. ‘Always I have watched it alone.’

  She swallowed. ‘Sometimes – it is good to share,’ she murmured huskily. ‘Sometimes words cannot convey such a scene.’

  ‘No,’ he breathed, close to her ear. ‘Some things are impossible to describe.’

  And it is not possible to describe how I am feeling now, she thought, with him so close and intimate. She closed her eyes for a second. She could feel his steady breathing through her body, feel his heart beat, smell the sweat on him, and the pungent odour of leather and horses, and she felt her own heart hammering.

  Slowly she turned within his coat so that she was facing and looking up at him. They neither of them spoke, then he bent his head and kissed her on the mouth. ‘Gianna! You are a good woman,’ he whispered. ‘A strong woman. You are right for this country.’

  Her lips parted. ‘Why do you give me that n
ame?’

  ‘The old man – Isaac.’ He touched her cheek with his rough fingers. ‘That’s what he called you.’

  She smiled and was about to reply, when a sudden stamping and snorting of the horses alerted her. She glanced over his shoulder and froze.

  ‘What is it?’ He was instantly alert.

  ‘Wolf,’ she breathed, her legs turning to jelly as she saw the pacing animal.

  Slowly, his movements measured and unhurried, Lake turned, releasing her and pushing her behind him. His hand slid to his belt and as the wolf sprang, its jaws wide, exposing sharp yellow fangs, the knife flashed in his hand, aiming at the unprotected belly of the animal as it leapt. Lake’s sharp cry and the anguished howl of the wolf as its blood gushed forth, spattering them both, echoed around the mountains.

  Georgiana fell to her knees, her body shaking. How suddenly death could come in this wilderness. They could have perished if it hadn’t been for Lake’s swift action.

  Kitty’s head and that of Charlesworth’s appeared at the tent opening. ‘What’s happened? Oh, Miss Georgiana, are you all right?’ Kitty asked. Then she saw the body of the wolf as Lake dragged it to the edge of the clearing and threw it over the side, where it crashed down into the trees. She gave a muted cry. ‘Oh, God save us! Did it attack you?’

  ‘No! No! It’s all right, Kitty. We’re not hurt. Lake has killed it.’ Georgiana went back to Lake, who was staring down into the valley. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I was so frightened.’

  His eyes continued to stare into the distance. ‘It shouldn’t have happened,’ he said harshly. ‘I was unprepared.’ He turned to look at her. ‘I was distracted.’ His mouth pressed into a thin line. ‘This is not a place for women.’

  But you said—!’

  ‘I was wrong.’ He was abrupt and turned away. ‘We must move on. Lead the horses to the stream,’ he commanded. ‘Eat and then we’ll be on our way.’

  When they stopped for a rest at midday, she went over to speak to him. ‘That wolf—’ she began.

  ‘Timber wolf. Was out of place,’ he said gruffly. ‘Usually they travel in packs but don’t often attack people, except in winter when they are hungry and looking for food. He must have become separated from the others. He only attacked us because he was nervous and thought he was under threat. I wouldn’t normally have killed him.’

  ‘You killed the other one,’ she commented. ‘On our journey here.’

  He nodded. ‘Sometimes I have to. He was rabid so he had to die. I’m a trapper. I trap beaver. Mink. Raccoon.’ His eyes glanced over her. ‘I sell the pelts so you ladies can cover your shoulders with fur. I kill for a living. Not for the fun of it.’

  As they started out on the final part of the journey she felt jittery and unnerved at the result of the incident and his change of attitude towards her. Why had he kissed her? Was it simply because of an emotional moment? She wouldn’t have guessed that he was an emotional man, yet obviously he was if he could take pleasure in a sunrise. And why then did he become brusque after he had killed the wolf? Was it because he had been caught off guard?

  The trail began to drop lower into the valley, leaving the steep mountainside behind. She was able to recognize familiar landmarks and isolated settlements, and her tension eased as she realized they were almost at the Indian settlement of No-Name.

  ‘How much longer?’ Charlesworth bellowed from the position he had taken at the rear. ‘Surely we must be almost there?’

  Lake turned in his saddle. ‘An hour,’ he called. ‘If we keep up this pace. Don’t lag behind.’ Georgiana saw him glance at Kitty and his face crinkle as if he had winked or smiled at her. ‘Watch out for wolves,’ he hollered. ‘They may be following us.’

  Charlesworth urged his horse on and came closer to Georgiana. ‘I shan’t come out here again,’ he muttered. ‘And if you’ve any sense, Miss Gregory, you won’t either.’

  ‘Will you sell me your interest in the mine?’ Lake shouted back to Charlesworth and Georgiana looked up in some surprise and not a little irritation. ‘I’ll give you the value in pelt.’

  ‘Ah!’ Charlesworth considered. ‘Perhaps might. Yes, perhaps I might! We’ll talk when we get to the place that has no name.’

  ‘It has a name,’ Georgiana told him curtly. ‘It’s called No-Name! And I asked you first if you’d sell the share to me!’

  ‘I wouldn’t sell to you, Miss Gregory.’ He drew as near as he could without the horses clashing. ‘This is not women’s work. Besides, it’s played out,’ he said in an undertone. ‘But I want what I gave for it. And if this fellow wants it, I’ll trade for skins and my wife will get a fur wrap to keep her happy.’

  Dekan and Horse rode out from the settlement to greet them and escort them in. Charlesworth cantered on ahead whilst Lake and Georgiana slowed their pace now they were at their destination.

  ‘Any trouble, brother?’ Dekan asked Lake, who hesitated for a moment, glancing at Georgiana before saying that there wasn’t.

  ‘Lake killed a wolf,’ Kitty piped up from behind Lake’s back. ‘It was about to attack. He saved Miss Gregory’s life.’

  ‘Then you are in his debt,’ Dekan said to Georgiana in such a solemn tone that she couldn’t be certain if he was serious or not.

  ‘I’m sure that I am,’ she replied, tight-lipped. ‘But I doubt he would allow me to repay him.’

  As they dismounted and the horses were taken away to be fed and watered, Kitty went into the cabin with Little Bear, and Charlesworth went to the men’s cabin, where he declared he would lie down and rest. Georgiana approached Lake. ‘I was going to buy Charlesworth’s interest in the mine,’ she said crisply. ‘Now he’s going to sell to you! Even though he told me it’s played out,’ she added.

  He gave a half-grin. ‘What would he know about it? Anyway, you can buy it from me if you really want it.’

  ‘What’s the point in that?’ She could feel her irritation rising. ‘Why would you buy it in the first place? You wouldn’t work it, you’re a trapper!’

  ‘And you’re a woman,’ he said slowly. ‘So why would you?’ His eyes didn’t leave her face. ‘I heard you asking him to sell it—’ he continued.

  ‘You heard—?’ He must have been right outside the tent to hear any conversation!

  He nodded. ‘Got kinda wet.’ Still his eyes remained on hers. ‘Don’t trust him,’ he said. ‘Not with Dreumel’s mine or sharing a woman’s tent.’

  She was silenced for a moment. He must have stayed outside the tent until he heard Charlesworth’s snores and knew that she and Kitty were safe. ‘So why did you ask him to sell the share to you when you knew I wanted it?’ she persisted.

  ‘I knew he wouldn’t sell it to you. Not to a woman. And not to Dreumel, in case it’s worth something after all. But he’d trade for pelts because he thinks he’ll make money on them.’ He gave another lopsided grin. ‘And he knows nothing about fur either.’

  ‘You haven’t answered my question,’ she said. ‘Why do you want it?’

  ‘I don’t,’ he said softly. ‘But Dreumel does.’

  She was silenced once more by him. What a strange man he was. He had already repaid Wilhelm Dreumel for a favour, and now he was bestowing something more. She stared back at him for a moment, then turned away to go into the cabin. He caught hold of her arm. ‘I said you can have it if you want it.’

  ‘Instead of Dreumel?’ she asked. ‘Maybe I would sell it to the highest bidder!’

  He pursed his lips and shrugged. ‘Maybe you would but whoever bought it would never find their way up there.’ His hand was still on her arm. He stroked her skin with his thumb. ‘Perhaps it’s best if I keep it,’ he said softly. ‘Dreumel will be up there until the fall and I’ll see him when I get back.’

  ‘Get back? From where?’ She felt mesmerized by the pressure of his hand on her flesh.

  He pointed north. ‘Lake Huron. For beaver. I’m late, I should have been there already.’

  ‘Late? For what?’<
br />
  ‘For trading. The trappers meet up at an old fort trading centre. They sell their furs, buy knives, food, coffee, whisky. Some of them drink away the whole season’s skins.’

  The hard Adam’s apple in his throat moved as he swallowed. ‘Some of them will even trade their squaws for whisky.’

  ‘There are Indians there too?’

  He shook his head. ‘Some trappers have Indian women as their squaws.’

  ‘Do you?’ she whispered.

  He clasped both her hands, cradling them between his. ‘No.’ His dark eyes locked into hers in such a penetrating gaze that she couldn’t look away. ‘I travel alone. Just my horses and pack mules.’

  Fear suddenly struck her. ‘Are you not afraid of being attacked?’

  He shrugged. ‘If it happens, it happens. I have my gun and my knife.’ His eyes flickered momentarily and a small grin played around his mouth. ‘If I am not distracted, I shall be safe.’

  ‘I hope so,’ she breathed. ‘I do hope so.’

  ‘Miss Georgiana!’ Kitty called from the cabin. ‘There’s supper here for us.’

  ‘Yes. I’m coming.’ Her voice cracked hoarsely as she called back. Her mind seemed to be blank and she couldn’t think or concentrate. Reality was non-existent. Only her physical senses were working, the stuff of flesh and blood, pounding so vigorously that she had no control over them. The cause, she knew, was Lake standing so close to her, and the effect so consuming that no matter what the future held, she felt she would never be the same again.

  ‘I leave before dawn,’ he said quietly. ‘I may not see you again.’

  She licked her lips. ‘Perhaps not.’ She gazed up at him. ‘Unless you come to New York?’

  He smiled and shook his head, dropping her hands. ‘No likelihood of that. The Iroquois no longer live there.’

  It was not yet light when she rose from her bed the next morning and went outside. Lake was fixing his high pommel saddle to his mount. He had one other horse and two mules, all three of which were laden with fur packs hanging from either side of the saddle with a further pack on top. Dekan was with him but with a murmur to Lake as he saw her coming towards them, and a brief touch on his shoulder, he melted away into the darkness.