by Ana Seymour
Nancy opened her eyes and gave Randolph a tired, grateful smile. “Bless you,” she said. “Bless you all.” She fell back and her head lolled to one side. For a horrible moment Hannah thought that they had saved the child only to lose the mother, but Eliza did not appear concerned.
“She’s fainted,” the older woman said. “Probably the best thing for her now. I’ll tend to her while you get the baby cleaned up and ready to meet his sisters.”
Randolph reverently handed the child to Hannah. “I’ll go tell the others,” he said. “It’s a miraculous thing, isn’t it?” His voice was full of awe.
Hannah met his eyes over the squirming infant in her arms. Their smiles reflected shared wonder.
“Well, get on with it, Randolph,” Eliza said. “I can’t get Nancy fixed up with you hovering here.”
Randolph grinned and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
And suddenly all three were grinning at each other and laughing. In some ways this had been their first real test of life in the wilderness, and they had passed.
* * *
The new baby was so small that they had made a bed for it in a cartridge box no bigger than Hannah’s boot. But after those first anxious moments, it appeared to be thriving. The ominous blue color was almost gone and the pitiful mewling sounds were changing to tiny, hungry cries.
Nancy had still not awakened, but Eliza assured Hannah that her color was good and her breathing peaceful. She and Randolph were trying to convince Hannah to go for some sleep herself. Randolph had been back and forth to the little shelter all evening, picking up the baby, rocking it, crooning a little wordless tune.
It was almost midnight. Everyone in the party had been duly paraded in and out to see the new arrival. Trask had been the last to arrive. He had refused to hold the child when Hannah had offered it, but had said with a possessive gleam in his eye, “Finally she sees fit to give me a son. It’ll be another Hugh after his pa.” Then, without inquiring about his wife’s health, he’d left.
Randolph shook his head as he watched Trask leave. “I don’t understand the man,” he said in disgust. “How can he not be affected by such an event? The birth of his own son.”
In her position as a servant, Hannah had never felt it her place to voice her opinion about Trask, but as Ethan had once predicted, the farther they got into the wilderness, the less she felt like a servant. “He’s not worthy of such a wonderful family.”
Eliza had laid her head on some of the furs along-side Nancy and appeared to be dozing off. Randolph spoke softly. “Did Priscilla ever talk to you about the child we lost, Hannah?”
“No. It was one subject that we never shared.”
“When we found out that we were going to have another child, we were so pleased, though I worried because even then the sickness was tightening its grip on her.”
Hannah watched as the painful memories flickered across his face. He looked over at the baby in the little box. It was quiet now, sleeping. “It wasn’t meant to be,” he said after a moment.
“She never spoke of it.”
“No. But I think it nearly broke her heart.”
“I’m so sorry.” Hannah wished she had more comforting words, but she had gone too many hours without sleep to think clearly.
Randolph gave a little shiver. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think these things are best left to nature, or God, or whatever it is that controls our fates. Perhaps if the babe had been born, we wouldn’t have had those final two years with Priscilla.”
“They were precious years.”
“Aye. They gave Jacob the chance to be able to remember his mother. And they gave the children time to learn to love you, so that you would be able to soften their loss.”
Hannah felt her heart swelling as she listened to Randolph tell her again of her importance in their family. Could a person ask for greater happiness than to be able to make life better for three such wonderful people as Randolph and his children? “I’m glad I was there,” she said.
He reached to take her hand. “I’m glad you’re here,“ he corrected gently. “It means more than I can say to have you with us.”
Hannah felt the uncomfortable closeness of the walls of the little shelter. Her head was really not working well, she decided. She needed sleep, as they had said. “Well,” she said, pulling her hands away. “It certainly meant a lot to have you here tonight. I believe you saved that baby’s life.”
“You and Eliza were the ones who did all the nursing hour after hour.”
Hannah gave a little laugh. “And I suppose we should give Nancy herself a little credit for the results.”
Randolph looked over at the sleeping woman. “She’s a brave lady. And she doesn’t deserve the lot she’s been given in this life.”
“But at least she has a wonderful new son, thanks to you.”
Randolph picked up the baby, which had begun to move about again in its tiny cradle. A measure of pride slipped into his voice as he said, “He’s a bonny lad, isn’t he?”
“Aye, he’s bonny,” Hannah said, gently teasing. All the Websters had touches of the MacDougalls’ Scottish speech. Hannah was glad that they seemed to be able to retain this bit of heritage from Priscilla without painful memories.
Randolph put the infant on his knees and moved them back and forth. The baby’s whimpers stopped and for the first time his gluey eyelids opened a crack to peer up at the big man bending over him. “He’s opening his eyes,” Randolph exclaimed.
His voice awakened Eliza, who pulled herself groggily upright. “What are you still doing here, Hannah?” she scolded. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
When Randolph added his urging to Eliza’s, Hannah finally got to her feet and started to leave the shelter where she had kept watch for a day and a half. She was, she decided, grateful for the excuse to retire. Her conver-sation with Randolph had again drifted into serious subjects. And sitting with him sharing the excitement of the new baby, she found herself projecting a picture of the future, a family of her own. It was an enticing thought, one that should make her happy instead of melancholy. The problem, she admitted as she ducked into her little tent, was that in her visions of the future, her baby, absurdly and impossibly, had the dark, compelling eyes of Ethan Reed.
They stayed on the pretty little island three more days to give Nancy and the baby a chance to grow stronger. The child had been named Hugh Wallace Trask, using Nancy’s maiden name for its middle name. Eliza, Hannah and Randolph had taken to calling it “Wally,” using the excuse that “Hugh” was too adult sounding for such a little mite. No one voiced the thought that the father seemed each day less worthy of such a miraculous namesake. Unlike Randolph, who spent hours sitting inside the little shelter and had even changed the infant’s wet linens, Hugh came rarely and stayed for a few brief moments. He had not yet held his son in his arms.
The children had all taken turns rocking little Wally. Bridgett and Janie were fascinated with their new brother and would have been underfoot all day if Eliza had not told them that their mother needed to rest.
Ethan put in brief appearances. He also declined an invitation to hold the child, saying that he did not want to get the little thing dirty. The second afternoon, he came when Nancy was sleeping and Hannah was alone by her side.
“Mother and babe are doing well?” he asked, his voice sounding formal and restrained.
“Everything seems to be fine,” Hannah answered, the words sticking in her throat. It was the first time they had been alone since their night on the trail.
“And you have rested?”
She nodded, her eyes on Nancy, not on him.
“We’ve not talked…” he started, but she held up her hand to interrupt him.
“There’s no need,” she said simply.
“What happened out there that night…”
“I said there’s no need to discuss it.”
Ethan sighed. “So you’re having the regrets I warned you about, after all.”
He walked over to stand close enough to touch her but made no move to do so. “You think not mentioning it will make you forget it?”
Her answer was brittle. “I have to forget it.”
“Because you’ve had a better offer?” Ethan’s voice, too, was unusually hard.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Webster’s finally come to his senses and discovered he wants you in his bed himself.”
Hannah felt as if he had slapped her. “Of all the vulgar…”
Ethan took a step back. “I’m sorry. That was unfair. Webster’s in love with you. Any fool can see it every time he looks at you.”
Hannah’s swift surge of anger died immediately, replaced by the vague sadness she had been feeling since the baby’s birth. She’d tried to attribute it to the loss of sleep over those two long days.
“Are you going to marry him?”
Hannah wished she could get out of the stuffy lean-to, but she didn’t want Ethan continuing his conver-sation where everyone could see them. “He hasn’t asked me,” she snapped.
“I thought that’s what he was doing—the other night by the river.”
“No.”
A little of the tightness left his voice. “He will, though. Webster’s an honorable man.”
“Unlike some men I know,” Hannah couldn’t resist saying.
Ethan shook his head in exasperation. “I gave you fair warning. The life I lead doesn’t allow room for a wife and family. Did you suppose that night would change that?”
For the first time, she looked straight into his dark eyes, the ones she had been imagining in her own child. “I didn’t suppose anything, Captain. I was… how do they put it in the love sonnets?…swept away by your ardor.”
“And now you blame me for it,” he said grimly.
She held his gaze for several moments, then said calmly. “No. I mean it when I say I have no regrets. But I also mean it when I say we are not going to talk of this again. It’s time I started thinking of what kind of life I’m going to create for myself.”
Ethan’s expression was admiring. “Ah, Hannah. You’re a woman in a thousand.”
A devilish impulse made her retort, “Or in your case, Captain Reed, one of thousands.”
A reluctant smile twisted Ethan’s lips. “You’re wrong, but perhaps it’s best after all if that’s how you think of me.”
“Once we’re all settled on Destiny River, Captain, I don’t intend to think of you at all.”
The river was somber under a dark sky when they finally loaded up the boats and pushed out into the current. There was little talking and the settlers’ moods seemed to match the weather. Ethan had taken his customary place on the front boat with Hugh Trask and his children, but they had switched Nancy and the baby to the little cabin on the Websters’ boat so that she could be near Hannah and Eliza.
By the second day, the sun came out to light the river with sparkles and the travelers had regained some of their spark, as well. The terrain was changing, showing the promise of the rich land they had come so far to find. Although there were still miles of forbidding dark forests, more and more often they floated along past plains waving with bluegrass and wild rye. Meadows dotted with clover and wildflowers tapered off into rolling green hills. Then farther south still, they encountered marshy canebrakes lined with great willows bending toward them in graceful obeisance.
On the ninth day out of Fort Pitt they rounded a bend to discover an Indian village stretched out on the eastern bank. The Indians crowded curiously at the edge of the river as they passed, the mostly naked children making signals to get their attention. Jacob and Peggy laughed and waved from the side of the boat.
“Reed didn’t say anything about an Indian village,” Randolph said with a frown. He was manning the big oar at the back of the boat.
Seth looked up from a fishing net he was mending. “They look friendly enough. I’m sure the captain would have shouted to us if there were a problem.”
Hannah had felt little flutters in her stomach at the sight of the Indian braves, some of whom had horizontal lines painted across their chceks the way Skabewis had. But the people on shore just seemed to be politely interested in the settlers. If she was going to live in this land, Hannah told herself, she would have to learn to live with the Indians. She remembered the good humor of the old chief. They were people, just like the English. There’s room in this great land for all of us, she said firmly. Then she moved to the side of the boat to join Jacob and Peggy in waving to the friendly faces along the river.
Chapter Fourteen
It was their last night. It seemed almost unbelievable after all the days of hard travel—the aching muscles of those first days on horseback, the endless winding paths through the wooded hills of central Pennsylvania, the long days of vigilance keeping their boats floating smoothly along the bends and eddies of the great river. Tomorrow, Ethan had told them, they would arrive at Destiny River.
They had made good time. In spite of little Wally’s birth and Nancy’s weakness, they would be reaching their new home early in the summer, early enough to plant the bags of seed corn weighing down the back of the Trask boat. Early enough to build sturdy log cabins to provide shelter and warmth for their first long winter on the frontier.
There was an air of anticipation that night around the camp fire. Seth had taken out his fiddle to play some celebratory music in honor of the occasion. Trask had tapped yet another of the kegs of rum that occupied an inordinate amount of the space allotted to his family.
Randolph was elated. He had regained something of the original fervor that had made him plan this expedition in the first place.
“How far up the Destiny do we have to go?” he asked Ethan.
Their guide shrugged his broad shoulders. “The territory’s open here. You could stake your claim at the mouth, right on the Ohio if you want. But if you go upriver just a piece, you’ll be out of the way of any of the river activity you don’t want to mess with.”
“That makes good sense to me,” Seth said, and the others nodded agreement.
Ethan continued, “We’ll pull up and make a little camp at the mouth of the Destiny. Then you can go up and down both sides of the river and pick out the best spot for building cabins and clearing fields.”
Hannah felt a little chill of excitement as she realized that as of tomorrow, their dream would turn into a reality. She only wished that her excitement was not mixed with the uncertainties that had plagued her over the past few days. Exactly what would her new little home on the Destiny River be like? Since they had left the island where Wally had been born, Randolph had not spoken to her again in the serious vein he had begun as they had sat with Nancy after the birth. She did not particularly expect him to. There was little chance for them to be alone with each other, and everyone had a lot on their minds. But she couldn’t help wondering what kind of cabin they would build. Would she sleep in a traditional servant’s room, attached on the back of the structure? Or would there be a loft for the children that she would also use?
And then there was Ethan. He would be leaving them soon. Would she be able to forget him and the lovemaking they had shared, as she had told him she would? Or would she be moving into Randolph Webster’s cabin and perhaps his bed with images of Ethan’s naked body bending over her in the moonlight, his lips at her breast?
“A penny for your thoughts, mistress,” Ethan’s low voice said into her ear.
Heat rose to her cheeks. She looked quickly across the camp fire to see that Randolph and Seth were engrossed in conver-sation. Ethan had come up behind her quietly. No one else was paying any attention to them. “I’m just thinking about tomorrow,” she told him. “I can’t believe
we’re here at last.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” Ethan said. As usual, when he was describing his beloved wilderness, his voice took on a warm, rich tone. “I’ve picked out my favorite spot on the whole river for you folks. The Destiny flows out of one of the prettiest little valleys you’d ever want to see, but the hills flatten out into rich bottomlands that will grow you up crops faster than you can plant the seeds.”
“None of us have much experience….” Her voice trailed off doubtfully.
“You’ll do just fine,” he said, leaning back on his hands and studying her. “You, especially, Hannah. You’ve the spirit it takes to open up a new land—the persistence and the strength.”
Hannah was thankful that the darkness hid the quick flush of pleasure that came at his compliment. “You overestimate me, I think. Remember how frightened I was that day with the Indians?”
“I remember that you were trying to find your way back to save me, without weapons or reinforcements,” he said with a fond smile. “And I remember that you pulled Mrs. Trask through when she might have given up on us all and died.”
“Eliza was the one who knew more about the birthing,” she protested. “And Randolph was the one who breathed life into the baby.”
“But you were the one who breathed willpower into Nancy. You wouldn’t allow her to die. I heard you telling her so.”
His strong shoulder was almost touching hers. Hannah had a perverse wish to lean against it. “We’ve already been through a lot,” she said pensively. “I wonder how much more we’ll have to go through before we can consider this venture a success?”
“However much it is, you’ll be up to it.”
Whatever they’d have to face now, they would do it without Ethan. He’d be leaving soon, and Hannah felt bereft at the thought. “Thank you for your confidence,” she said, trying to keep her voice normal. “I…I don’t suppose we’ll see much of you once you get us established.”