Mara: A Georgian Romance

by Barbara T. Cerny

  He next drew a stick figure standing sideways with breasts and a big belly near the tree with the apples. Then he drew a stick figure of a baby with diapers and a rattle, and made a rocking motion with his arms. Indy nodded in understanding. Pete pointed to the baby and said “Pete”; then, he pointed to himself. He then marked a tick mark on the paper as he went around the circle to indicate years of life. After five rotations, he just made sixteen more tick marks.

  Indy understood that Pete had seen twenty-one summers.

  She picked up the pencil and drew a stick figure of a baby near the fall tree. Then she made seventeen tick marks.

  Pete gave her a hug, and Indy enjoyed the feel of his embrace. She realized that there were good white people and bad white people, just as there were good Cherokees and bad Cherokees. Pete and his friends were good white people, she decided.

  On Thursday, Pete prepared to go back to town. He had a business to run, and probably had Maynard and Josh to deal with as well. He saddled Crookshanks, trying to explain to Indy that he had to leave, but that she would see him again in a few days.

  Indy was frantic. She didn’t want Pete to leave her. The others were nice, but it was Pete who kept her safe and the nightmares away.

  He sat down with paper at the table again. He drew a circle and wrote Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday spaced around the circle. He put a sun on top of each word and a crescent moon under each word.

  Indy nodded, indicating she understood what Pete had drawn. Each word represented a day of the week.

  He touched the word Thursday and pointed to the floor and said, “Thursday, today.” He pointed outside and then to Thursday’s sun.

  She nodded. That was this morning, that sun.

  Pete then drew the cabin in the woods at one end of the paper. She smiled. He drew several buildings on the other end of the paper. Then he put a stick horse in the middle. “Pete goes to town today, Thursday. Indy goes to town Saturday night.” He motioned while he talked.

  Indy understood. She would see him again in two days. She threw her arms around him and hugged him.

  Mara thought Pete was a brilliant communicator. Luke just thought Pete was smitten.

  *****

  Pete was right about Maynard and Josh. Sheriff Wiley practically met him at the smithy door when he returned.

  “Good morning to you, sheriff. Come on in.” He unlocked the door and led the sheriff into the shop.

  Once inside, Pete leaned up against the counter and crossed his arms, staring Wiley down.

  Wiley looked a little uncomfortable. Pete was a good man, and an expert blacksmith. He liked the entire Abbot clan. But he couldn’t allow Pete to get away with stealing another man’s property, especially in front of a couple dozen witnesses.

  “I’m assuming she is at the farm.”

  “Yup.”

  “You aren’t in trouble for the fist fight, as I understand he swung first. You have the right to defend yourself.”

  “Twasn’t no fight.”

  “Pete, you aren’t making this any easier.”

  “And you think it is easy for me? I find two men abusing a young girl, ropes tied around her neck, and I am the one who done wrong here?”

  “Now, Pete,” Wiley started.

  “Dinna you now, Pete me! Slavery ain’t right, and neither is treatin’ another human being like that right!”

  “Pete, damn it, you stole another man’s property!”

  “Wiley, blimey hell, I rescued a girl from a fate worse than death! you canna own another person!”

  “Yes, Pete, in America you can own another person. Slavery is legal in most states. You are in the wrong here!”

  Pete looked at the ground. Slavery legal! He’d run out of arguments. “I ain’t giving her back. I canna. I canna let Maynard and Josh abuse Indy again. I won’t.”

  Sheriff Wiley looked at the ceiling. He had every right to arrest Pete right then and there and go straight out to the farm to reclaim the Indian. But he wasn’t dealing with a common thief or a common theft. The Englishman standing in front of him truly believed he had rescued the girl, not stolen her. Unfortunately, the law was not on his side.

  Pete lowered his gaze again and started talking in a low tone. “You see, sheriff, I am an orphan. From the time I was two until I turned fourteen, I grew up in an orphanage under the care of a cruel and horrible man. I was regularly beat and starved—just for existing, not for any crimes. I had to steal food on the streets of London in order to live to see another day. If it weren’t for Mara, I’d not be here now.”

  Pete paused, remembering those godforsaken years. “You dinna see her, Wiley. you dinna see what those bastards had done to her. I have been there, and I will not let another be there if I can help it. I canna give her back.”

  Wiley took in a deep breath and sighed heavily. “Pete, I am supposed to be arresting you right now, not having a philosophical discussion on human rights. The law is on their side, not yours.” He watched Pete’s whole demeanor crumble. “But, I will go talk to them and tell them you are willing to buy her from them. She would then be your legal property. That is the only way I can let her stay on the farm”

  Pete opened his mouth in protest. Wiley put up his hand. “Do you want to rescue her or not?”

  Pete shut his mouth and nodded.

  “Then you best be buying her. Period.”

  Pete was beside himself. “I just have one thing to ask then, sheriff. Please dinna ever let another soul know I bought her. It just goes again’ everything I believe in.”

  The sheriff put out his hand. “Deal.” The two shook hands, the sheriff agreeing to keep Pete’s secret. “I’ll be back to collect the money and write the deed.”

  Two hours later, Pete owned a slave named Indy. And it broke his heart. He hid the deed behind the old shelving unit left by the previous shop owners. He hoped Indy never found out.

  Just as Pete had promised, Indy saw him again after two days had passed. The Abbot clan had taken to coming into town on Saturday nights. They slept on their bedrolls in Pete’s apartment, and then went to church the next morning. They would eat at Bess’s place, spend a few hours together, and then return to the farm Sunday evening. They also picked up supplies for the week. They would leave their order with Pete who would have it ready for pickup when they arrived the following weekend.

  Luke would arrive on Friday night two or three times a month for business, to take measurements, and deliver goods on Saturdays.

  Indy would sometimes come to town with Luke on a Friday to watch Pete work at the smithy. She was a very good cobbler, and tanned most of Luke’s leather. She made Cherokee-style moccasins, which the townspeople loved, as they were so soft and comfortable.

  Pete couldn’t wait to see her each week. To him, it seemed she blossomed and became more beautiful under the care of Mara, Deirdre, and Cecilia.

  Luke was right—Pete was besotted. When Indy arrived on Saturday night, his face shone with pure joy. And when she left again Sunday evening, the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable.

  The residents of Columbia had a great time gossiping about the Indian girl Pete rescued who now lived on the Abbot Horse Breeding Farm. They strained to see her in church, in the cobbler shop, in the Commonwealth Tavern over lunch, and walking around town with their young blacksmith. And she didn’t seem like a savage at all. In fact, since she couldn’t utter a sound, she seemed quite docile and polite. Not what most expected from an Injun.

  At the farm, Indy learned the ways of the white man, and the clan learned the ways of the Cherokee. She rapidly learned English, and could understand most everything they said to her now. They had created a language of facial, hand, and arm signals with a few body moves thrown in, and it was very effective.

  Mara, ever the tutor, taught Indy to read and write. Language was still a barrier, but Indy could write the alphabet and recognize small words written on a slate. Indy loved to look at the white man’s
writing. It could do so much! The Cherokee had their own written language, developed by a Cherokee silversmith named Sequoyah, but Indy thought the white man’s writing was much more versatile. And once she learned it, she could use her slate and chalk as well as her hands to communicate.

  *****

  In July, six months after her rescue, Indy decided it was time to let Pete know how she felt about him. If she waited for her shy Pete to make the first move, she’d be old and gray before she caught her man!

  She had long realized she could never go back to her own tribe. They would not accept her back into their fold and even if they did, no brave would marry her since she had been touched by white men. Her best bet for happiness was with the gentle giant who had rescued her from her hellish former life.

  She had come to town on Friday with Luke. As usual, they ate dinner at the tavern and she and Pete took a walk about town, just enjoying each other’s company. When it grew dark, they returned to the smithy.

  Mara had painted signs to advertise Luke and Pete’s businesses. They were hanging in front of the building. Indy looked up at them and pointed. Pete smiled at his new signs. “I like them a lot. That one is mine and it says ‘Smithers’ Blacksmith Shoppe.’ Pretty funny that a man named Smithers became a smithy. Kinda like Jake’s dad becoming a vicar. The other one says ‘Holloway’s Cobbler Shoppe.’ Mara did a great job on them.”

  Indy squeezed his hand as they entered the shops.

  As usual, they each got ready for bed. Pete’s apartment was very similar to the apartment the group had shared in New York City. It had three bedrooms, a living room, a dining room, and a kitchen. Right now, all Pete had was a bed and a table with four chairs he had bought from Worthington’s Emporium down the street. The rest brought their bedrolls and mats with them on their weekend visits. Mara and Jake slept in one room, and Luke and Deirdre in another. Alvin was in with Pete, and Cecilia and Indy slept in the living room.

  Indy lay on her sleeping mat, and waited for Luke and Pete to fall asleep. If she didn’t make her move tonight, Alvin would be there the following night, and she’d have to wait another whole week.

  Indy finally mustered all her courage, stood up, and stealthily entered Pete’s room. She watched him sleeping for a moment. He was lying on his side, facing the door. Indy walked over to the bed, lifted the covers ever so slightly, and climbed in. She lay with her back toward Pete, so they fit like spoons. She carefully picked up his arm, wrapped it around her, and then placed the covers back over them. Then she happily went to sleep, figuring he’d notice her eventually.

  And he did.

  In the middle of the night, Pete tried to roll over, but found there was something in his way. “What…?”

  A warm body was pressed up against him. He lifted himself up on one arm, and peered over it in the dark. “Indy?”

  He lay back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. He’d thought about this moment for weeks. He looked at her again, her shoulder peeking out from under the sheet. He was lost.

  Pete kissed that shoulder, kissed the neck attached to it, then the ear, then the shoulder again. Indy awoke and turned around to meet him. Pete gathered her in his arms and covered her mouth with his.

  Pete kissed that shoulder, then kissed the neck attached to it, then the ear, then the shoulder again. Indy awoke and turned around to meet him. Pete gathered her in his arms, and covered her mouth with his.

  Indy’s heart burned, her lips caught fire. She lifted her arms around him and returned his kiss drinking him in. Her emotions awoke fully. She had never felt anything like this before.

  Pete’s whole body shuddered in reaction to this kiss. He had kissed many a woman in his life but none had made his heart tingle. They each lost themselves in their first kiss, a desperately needed healing kiss for Indy.

  Pete broke off the kiss, bringing his hand up to trace her face. “I love you Indy. I think I have loved you since the day I took you from your captors. And I will love you for the rest of our time.”

  Indy held her man and knew it to be true. She had finally found a home again.

  *****

  The next morning, Luke sat in the kitchen, leaning back in a chair, his arms crossed, eyes glued to Pete’s bedroom door.

  It wasn’t too hard to figure out where the missing Indy was, since her blanket lay in front of that very door.

  Luke smiled. Now they only had Alvin to worry about.

  Chapter 56

  In late spring, the first foals were born on the farm. Just after they had arrived in Kentucky, Jake had bred Beaumont with Parisian and two of the draft mares. He also bred Geoffrey with two of the other four draft mares. He had bred the last two mares a few weeks ago, one with each stud, and would wait one more year for Empress to mature before breeding her. Five foals were born within three weeks of each other, keeping Jake and Alvin up many nights as they aided in the birthing process.

  Luke drew the line at sticking his hand up a brood mare to pull out a foal. Deirdre called him “chicken.” He said his hands were made for other things, and showed her exactly what. She called him “chicken” every day so he’d keep showing her.

  Mara referred to the foals as her “babies,” and was in love with all of them. Jake was relieved to have successfully bred horses. He kept meticulous notes on the sire and mare, how each pregnancy progressed, the size of each foal, the characteristics, and the birthing process. He planned to watch them in the first year to mark quality of breeding and pairings. He also advertised the new foals in town, and several men came out to look them over.

  The Abbot Horse Breeding Farm was finally in real business.

  *****

  Maher’s people showed up in mid-June, one year after the Abbot clan arrived in Adair County. The men had several wagons full of tools and supplies, and were very happy to be done with that god-awful wagon train and on the building site. They, too, never again wanted to be on another DeGinder wagon train longer than two weeks! They hoped the trip back would be better.

  The two dozen men were led by Scott Lonergan, the head builder, and his right-hand man, Ted Wallace.

  Mara and Jake were ecstatic. The cabin was fine, but they couldn’t wait for a real house on their beloved farm. They had also decided that once the house was built, they would dismantle the cabin and move it to Luke’s land along the Green River, so he and Deirdre could have their own house.

  While the Maher crew began building the house, the Abbot folks continued to construct the barn and improve the paddock. They also started to fence in a five-acre meadow that stretched along the White Oak Creek for the horses to run. The summer turned out to be another busy, back-breaking time in their lives.

  The summer also turned out to be the season of love for Cecilia.

  Scott Lonergan was a forty-five-year-old wiry first-generation American, born to Irish immigrants. He had worked for Maher for eighteen years, content to be a man’s man, building homes all over the east coast and traveling throughout New York, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, and sometimes to Vermont and beyond. He called no place home, comfortable living in tents and taverns all over the northeast. Before meeting Maher, he had worked on construction projects in Boston, which was growing at a rapid rate. As a young adult, he had fought in the new country’s war of independence from England. Scott Lonergan had great stories to tell.

  Lonergan and his men started immediately on the house, measuring and marking where it would stand and leveling the ground. He was happy to see an immense pile of bricks ready for them to use, and congratulated Deirdre on her ability to tell when the mixture was just right. These were fine Kentucky bricks. Deirdre beamed.

  She had taken several of the bricks into town to display them at the Commonwealth Tavern and the smithy. She had started her own little brick-making company, and this was a good way to advertise. They would move the kiln closer to the river and build a small shop for it. Deirdre hoped to eventually hire some people to work Holloway’s Brickw
orks. She was an entrepreneur at heart, and had found her niche in bricks.

  Cecilia took pity on the poor Maher workers, who were existing on trail food. She made them bread. She slathered butter and the ladies’ homemade preserves on it and serve it at lunch time. She also make sure the men had plenty of fruit and vegetables to keep them strong and healthy. But most of all, she loved to sit and listen to Lonergan tell stories, spellbound by all his adventures.

  It wasn’t long before they were taking little walks around the property, talking about their lives and their dreams and sharing more stories. Lonergan’s men raised their eyebrows at this behavior, so foreign to their boss.

  Scott was impressed that Cecilia was a landowner in her own right. He also liked her lady-like English demeanor, soft voice, and charming accent.

  He had never had much use for women, except for the occasional romp in the hay to satisfy the physical itch, but Cecilia made him step back and think about his future as he swung his hammer, spending his days building someone else’s house.

  At forty-five, he knew he couldn’t keep up this pace forever. There weren’t many good years left in him. The more he swung his hammer, the more he thought about Cecilia. The more he thought about Cecilia, the more he thought about his future. The more he thought about his future, the more he thought now might be the right time to settle down with a good woman. And Cecilia was a good woman. He had no illusions about children. They were both over forty so that wouldn’t happen, but it would be nice to have someone to grow old with. So he approached Jake, the head of the Abbot household, one fine late-July afternoon.