Charles saw the frame around the door start to come loose. Knew that Annabelle was too close. There was no time left.
Smoke burned his lungs and stole his breath. He gasped. Coughed. Made one final heroic effort to reach her in time.
* * *
When Annabelle saw the loft fall on the man inside the burning barn, her heart had split asunder. She’d lost the only person who loved her. She feared that all hope had died with him.
Numbed by her apparent loss, she simply stood there, staring, unable to move and not conscious of the terrible heat from the flames.
If her dress had not been wet she would have already joined Charles in death, she thought, wondering why she had been spared when God had just called him home.
No longer able to breathe, let alone scream his name one more time, she simply froze in place with her hands pressed over her face, closed her eyes and waited for the end. Hers was not a conscious wish for death. It was simply a yielding to the fate she thought was inevitable.
* * *
Charles tackled her as he passed, not stopping but simply sweeping her off her feet and letting his momentum carry them away.
Behind him, the walls of the barn finished their downward plunge, landing in the already burning straw and refuse with a whoosh that shot more clouds of glowing embers into the yard.
Charles did not stop running until he knew they were safe. Then he set Annabelle on her feet and embraced her as if she were the most important person in his life.
At that moment, he realized she was. Gone were his worries about her motives, or his tribe, or their tenuous future. All that mattered was Annabelle. Safe. In his arms.
Gasping and weeping she clung to him for long moments before she tried to speak. And then all she did was whisper his name.
“Charles...”
“I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Raising her gaze to his she stared as if unsure he was real. “I saw... I thought... In the barn. That wasn’t you?”
He drew her even closer and threaded his fingers through her damp hair as she laid her head on his chest. “No. That was someone who had hoped to kill me when I came out to fight the fire.”
“Oh, Charles. Are you sure?”
“Positive. If the barn door was not gone I could find the ball and prove it to you. The bullet barely missed me.”
“Then that man died in the fire. I saw...”
“I know.” Fighting to control the quaver in his voice he asked, “Why didn’t you run when you saw the place collapsing?”
He felt her shoulders trembling. Her arms around his waist tightened. Then she said words he had only dreamed of hearing.
“Because I was afraid I had lost the only man I had ever loved.”
No longer hesitant, Charles slipped a finger under her chin, lifted her face and gently kissed away her tears.
* * *
A small group of bystanders, including Harriet Boudinot, had gathered their wagons aside and were ministering to the smoky, sweaty, exhausted men who had already worked so hard.
Annabelle would have stayed in her husband’s embrace for hours if he had not led her over to the other women and insisted she be looked after properly.
She snatched his hand to stop him from leaving her. “Wait. There’s nothing more to be done. Stay with me?”
“I need to see to Johnny and the livestock,” he explained tenderly. “I won’t go far. I promise.”
When Harriet’s arm slipped around her shoulders, Annabelle reluctantly released him. It occurred to her as they parted that although one nemesis was dead, there could still be others lurking about.
She scanned the crowd. Everyone there was a stranger to her except for the Boudinots and their servants.
“Charles thinks the fire was set to ambush him,” Annabelle breathlessly explained to Harriet. “We must be very vigilant in case there are more assailants about.”
“I did pass two strange riders leaving in a hurry as I arrived. Let’s hope they’re long gone.”
“I pray so,” Annabelle replied. Her eyes were stinging and watering and she gladly accepted the wet wash rag that was offered and wiped her face before turning to assess the cabin.
“It looks like they’ll be able to save the house,” Harriet said. “That’s a relief. Johnny will have a home. For a while, at least.”
Annabelle’s brows knit. She continued to blot her face. “What do you mean? Isn’t he the only family member left?”
“Yes, but he’s male. Inheritance passes only through the mother’s lineage. It will be up to his distant female relatives whether or not he’s allowed to live there.”
Noting Annabelle’s surprise, Harriet added, “I know. It takes a lot of getting used to.”
“I’ll say. Tell me more. How about Charles’s mother? What’s her situation?”
“She owns and runs what Northerners call a plantation. They grow cotton and tobacco. The cotton is a fairly recent crop since England kept it from us for so long, but it’s doing amazingly well here.”
“So, they’re wealthy?”
“Oh, yes.” Harriet rolled her eyes. “You should see the gowns from Paris that Sali wears, even for day dresses.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
Harriet patted her hand. “Don’t let her intimidate you, dear. She may have money and fancy things, but you have Charles’s heart.”
That comment made Annabelle blush. “It does seem so, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, and I think the same goes for you. You love him.”
“Very much.”
“And you have told him?”
Annabelle had to chuckle, which brought on a spate of coughing. As soon as she could speak clearly she said, “I think so. Truth to tell, I am not certain. Everything happened so fast and was so confusing, I may not have made my feelings clear.”
“Judging by the way I saw him kissing you I would say you managed to get your point across,” Harriet teased. “Later today, when we’re back home and have had a chance to recover, I will begin to tell you what you need to know to prepare for the Cherokee wedding ceremony.”
“Assuming the tribe thinks I qualify. That’s what scares me,” Annabelle admitted aside. “I want to do what’s right for Charles. Suppose I am Cherokee and from the wrong clan or something. What can I do about that?”
“We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” her companion said. “In the meantime, it won’t hurt for you to learn a bit about being a Cherokee wife. It took Elias’s people a while to accept me, but the same goes for him and my family back in Connecticut.” She huffed.
“All right. I will write to John Eaton, as you suggested,” Annabelle vowed. “All he can do is refuse to answer me.”
“We can send your letter via steamboat. That way it will be harder for him or anyone else to trace you.”
Sobering, Annabelle gazed at the smoldering ruins of the barn. “I suspect that doesn’t matter. Unless the bounty hunters who were chasing us give up after this, I’m afraid we can expect more of the same.”
“Is there a reward offered for you?”
“I’m not sure about myself but we know there is one on Charles. We learned of it when we were still in Washington, which is why we left in such a hurry. A posse followed us partway here.”
“Because he was with Major Ridge’s party, they came here to look for you?”
“Apparently. It did not take a genius to figure out where we were probably bound.”
Harriet seemed deep in thought before she finally began to smile. “Then perhaps it is time to not only change your names but to emigrate.”
“How would that help?”
“It would give you both a new start in a new land. Some of our people have alrea
dy moved west and settled there. They say the country in Arkansas holds great promise and the tribe is also free to govern itself there.”
“But Charles’s family and his work are here.”
“For now they are.” She sobered, shaking her head. “However, if the federal government keeps siding with the Georgia legislature, there may soon be no secure home for the eastern band of the Cherokee here.”
Pondering Harriet’s words, Annabelle began to think of a new life in a new place. Was it possible to begin again?
She had no ties to anyone else, but her husband did. Would it be fair to ask him to pull up stakes and make a move? Or would he resent her for suggesting it?
There was only one way to find out. She would have to ask for his opinion. Later. When the fire was out and their life settled down. If it ever did.
In the meantime, she would heed Harriet and learn the ways of the Cherokee enough to participate in a native ceremony, if that was what Charles wished.
Their Christian wedding had been rushed, yet she remembered it fondly. Perhaps the tribal wedding would bring the peace she craved and strengthen the bond she and her Cherokee groom already shared.
First, however, she would consult with Samuel Worcester, the reverend she had recently met, to make sure it was not contradictory to the teachings of Christianity. Then, if he approved, she would gladly take part in whatever ceremony was needed to bring her closer to the man she loved with all her heart and soul.
The thought of spending the rest of her days with Charles McDonald was so amazing, so exhilarating, it lifted her mood and made her number him as first among the most incredible blessings of her entire life.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Charles finished finding temporary homes for the displaced livestock from the farm, he hurried to rejoin his wife in New Echota. They had had so little time together during and after the crisis that he had begun to question whether Annabelle’s reactions had been overly influenced by the trauma or if she did, truly, love him.
Would he have to ask? he wondered. Hopefully not. He was already wearing his heart on his sleeve. If she had rethought her response to him saving her life during the fire, he didn’t know how he was going to cope.
What he wanted to do was race back to the Boudinots’, leap from his horse and sweep her off her feet and into his arms the same way he had when she’d strayed too close to the flames.
Instead, he paced himself so the boy and mule could keep up, alert in case of another ambush.
None came, and Charles returned to thinking of Annabelle. Picturing her lovely face. Seeing the delight in her sky-blue eyes. The softness of her lips.
The memory of their earnest embrace left his heart pounding and stole his breath. Oh, how he loved that woman. Any lingering doubts had vanished in the moments when he’d feared she would be killed. Why her dress did not burst into flames from the searing heat was a wonderment in itself.
He stopped at the stables behind the printer’s house and spoke to Johnny. “You stay here with the horses. I have some business to take care of that needs to be private. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. Can we go back to Lisi’s tonight?”
“Probably in a few days,” Charles replied. “Some of the neighbors have offered to rebuild the barn. We’ll definitely go back then, if not before.”
The boy pouted but didn’t argue.
Pausing to rinse his sooty face and hands at the pump in the courtyard, Charles raked his fingers through his hair and pronounced himself ready. There were many other niceties he could have employed but time was wasting. He had to see Annabelle again. He simply had to.
He stomped and scraped mud off his boots at the kitchen door, then entered. As he had hoped, the women were gathered there, soaking up warmth from the cookstove.
Everyone looked up. One person jumped to her feet and flew into his arms. Holding tight. Reminding him of their meeting by the fiery barn.
“Annabelle.” Her name was all he could manage right then. His entire being was filled to overflowing with love and thankfulness. Clearly, she did not regret her earlier expression of affection. As a matter of fact, considering she was willing to express those same feelings in front of everyone in the room, she must have had a serious change of heart since their time on the trail.
Eyes bright with unshed tears, cheeks rosy, lips lifted by a smile, she met his gaze. “I have missed you, husband.”
Charles didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Or both. Instead, he lifted her feet off the ground and swung her around in a circle before giving her the second kiss of their married life.
* * *
“I have something to talk to you about,” Annabelle told him after they strolled out onto the porch to be alone. She kept hold of his hand, imparting her love while also drawing on his strength.
“Whatever you say will suit me,” Charles replied.
“Perhaps.” She indicated a wooden swing and seated herself so there would be plenty of room for him to join her. When he did, she pushed her feet against the porch floor to set the swing in motion and took a few moments to gather her thoughts. “I wish to discuss my background.”
“None of that matters to me,” he assured her. “I don’t care where you came from. All I care about is the future we will have together.”
“That is the problem,” she said slowly as she watched his expression for any sign of disapproval. “Harriet thinks I may have Indian ancestors.”
“So?” A grin lit his handsome face. “I have those, too. I told you I had already suspected as much.”
“But you know who yours are. I don’t.”
“I still don’t understand. What bothers you about it?”
“I came to the Eatons in Tennessee. I know there were some other tribes around there as well as yours, but what if I am part Cherokee?”
“All the better.”
“Only if I am not Wolf clan.”
She saw the slightest shift of his shoulders, the tiniest flash of worry in his eyes.
“There are seven clans, Annabelle. Why would you think you were part of mine?”
“I don’t. I simply have no idea and Harriet says that can keep us from taking part in the Cherokee ceremony.”
“Then we won’t do it.” Charles slipped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her in beside him. “We’re already married in the sight of our Christian God. We don’t need anything else.”
“What about your mother? Your other kin? And what will that do to your place in the tribe? Major Ridge and Elias and many others were married twice.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. How will I be able to face your mother if I’m the reason you can’t take part in customary rites?”
“Sali will come around. Eventually. And even if she doesn’t, you’ll still have me.”
Cuddling closer, she rested her head against his chest, listening to his strong heart beat and hearing it echo her own. “And Johnny? Will we be able to make him part of our family if it isn’t traditional?”
Charles’s concerned expression countered his words as he said, “Of course we will.”
When Annabelle had earlier posed that same question to Harriet, however, the answer had been negative. As kin to Chief John Ross, the boy was special. It would be up to the council of chiefs, including Ross, to decide his ultimate fate, just as they had when they had sent him to Washington to be a human peace offering.
She chose to sit quietly beside her husband on the swing and let him puzzle it out for himself. Yes, she was happy. And, yes, she knew they shared a mutual love. But what would happen to their feelings for each other if her background kept them from having a full life?
According to Harriet, Charles had promised to make the boy his son. If he had to break that promise
he would never forgive her, nor would she be able to forgive herself.
Therefore, the first thing she must do is write to John H. Eaton and beg him to tell her all he knew about her past, her lineage. Even if he claimed to know nothing, that would be better than making a terrible mistake and finding out too late.
As she pondered her childhood, two other faces appeared in her thoughts. Adams had been with Eaton for as long as Annabelle could remember, but without being able to see his face and decide on his allegiance as she pled her case, it might be foolish to write to him. That left Lucy. Was there some way she could get a letter past Margaret and Adams and into the hands of the faithful cook? There must be, but how?
Suddenly, she sat up and swiveled to face Charles. “When will the next Cherokee delegation be going to Washington? Soon?”
“Probably. Since our mission was cut short, I suspect the chiefs will send others before long. Why?”
“Because I will need someone to act as my messenger and take a letter to one of the Eaton servants.”
“Why? I thought you had talked to them.”
“No. I never had time. Adams, Father’s valet, may be able to tell me about my lineage but I’m not sure I can fully trust him. Lucy is sympathetic to our plight. The trouble is, I don’t know if she can read.”
“Adams can read the letter to her.”
“No. He might tell Father.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Charles assured her. “Adams was the one who helped me escape from the Eaton estate the day we left Washington.”
“Adams? Are you sure?”
“Positive. He disarmed a man with a knife so I could get to a horse and told me to go and take care of you.” Charles’s smile grew and he pulled her close once again. “I think you have more friends in Washington than you know.”
“Do I?”
Recalling instances when Adams had looked after her best interests, Annabelle began to realize Charles was right. She sighed, relieved and gladdened. So, there was hope, after all. Hope of learning who she was and from whence she had come.
Her Cherokee Groom Page 20