This Side of Heaven

by Karen Robards

  “Matt has said nothing of marriage.”

  “My dear, if he has come to blows with his brother—they’re very close, the five of them—then he can mean nothing less. If he is hesitating at the moment, it is probably because he is feeling confused. Men are not nearly as clear-sighted about these things as we women are.”

  That notion was comforting, and Caroline allowed herself to be cheered up. After Mary had pried every bit of information she could from her guest—though Caroline kept Matt’s lovemaking to herself—she at last was willing to let Caroline leave for long enough to get her shopping done. Though only on the condition that Caroline stop back by for another comfortable chat on her way out of town. She had to anyway, to get the musket that she left in a corner of the kitchen as there was no need for such protection in town, so Caroline readily agreed, though by this time she had little time to spare.

  “I just knew we would be sisters, even if I was picturing you with the wrong brother,” Mary said in parting, and she bestowed a quick hug on Caroline. Smiling, Caroline hugged her back, and though she thought Mary was assuming rather a lot about Matt’s intentions, she was still smiling as she waved good-bye and stepped into the street.

  On market day the usually peaceful common was transformed. Enveloped in a shimmering haze of heat, merchants bargained with farmers over produce and livestock displayed in carts and makeshift pens, peddlers hawked scissors and steel-bladed knives and the like, enterprising townspeople stood behind stands they had set up offering cold meat pies and mugs of cider, and even a couple of buckskin-clad Indians wandered through, offering to trade a string of pelts for various goods. A group of boys in leather aprons—apprentices, Caroline thought—sat in the shade of a spreading elm and made jocular comments as she passed. She ignored them and ignored too the dominie and his deacons, who were very much in evidence as they moved about, trying by their sobering presence to bring order to the sweating multitudes. Mr. Miller gave her a hard look as she passed him, but when Caroline boldly looked back he pretended not to see. Blue-coated bond servants mingled with the townspeople, doing the marketing for their masters. It occurred to Caroline that she could have been one of their number had it not been for Matt, but the notion so disgruntled her that she refused to entertain it further.

  At that time of day the market, which had emptied for the midday meal, was filling up again with shoppers who had waited to take advantage of late-day prices. Caroline waved to Hannah Forrester and Patience Smith as she saw them at a distance, and waved again to Lissie Peters’s father Simon. The town exciseman, he was paunchy and balding with no more than a memory of Lissie’s red hair. To her surprise, he turned his shoulder to her and went on about his business without responding by so much as a twitch to her wave.

  Apparently word had not gotten around that Daniel had offered and been rejected. If it had, Mr. Peters, with Lissie’s hopes in mind, would likely have fallen at her feet.

  Caroline was smiling sourly as she bargained for fresh cod to join the brace of ducks that she planned to save for later in the week. She added the fish to her purchases and decided to leave the rest of her marketing for the following week. It was so unseasonably warm that heat was rising from the ground in waves. Fanning herself with her apron in a vain attempt to feel cooler, she left the common, retracing her path down High Street.

  On her way back to James’s she passed the school-house, a squat white building with all its windows open to combat the heat. From inside came the chant of children at their lessons. Caroline smiled faintly as she recognized the patter that Davey had practiced at home a few nights previously.

  “Young Obadias, David, Josias—all were pious.”

  “Zaccheus, he—did climb the tree—our Lord to see.”

  Such joyless lessons, she thought as she had when she had first heard them, but then, most things in this Puritan land were joyless. While there were a few residents who did not follow the Roundhead ways, most did, and the ones who did not were frowned upon. The mere mention of King Charles was enough to provoke a hiss or a cascade of spittle from the most upstanding citizens. Caroline found it hard to understand how such fervently God-fearing folks could so openly thumb their noses at the divine right of their king, but they could and did. She had come to realize that they considered themselves God’s chosen people, and any who did not either fall into line with what they believed or get out of the way could expect to be trampled upon.

  Shouts from behind her caused her to turn her head. Exuberant scholars bounded down the schoolhouse steps for, she guessed, an afternoon recess granted because of the heat. The schoolmaster followed and stood on the steps squinting in the direction of the town square. He was not only in his shirt-sleeves but had them pushed up almost to the elbow. Bony and stooped, he appeared both hot and harassed as his attention shifted to his charges. Small boys looked much alike at such a distance, but Caroline thought she could distinguish Davey’s and John’s ink-black heads among the mob galloping around the schoolyard. Had she been sure of her reception, she would have turned back to speak to them.

  She had gone no more than six strides farther along the road when she was stopped in her tracks by a quavering scream.

  “Mad dog! Mad dog!” The cry sounded even as she whirled about to find children and adults alike scattering like leaves in a high wind in the face of a threat she could not see.

  “Mad dog!” The warning came again. Grown men and women with children snatched up under their arms bolted in the face of the threat. Schoolchildren tore down the road toward Caroline. John the fleet-footed was at the head of the pack, she saw, and near the rear pounded little Davey with his schoolmates. Stark terror was on the faces of the littlest ones, and copybooks and primers were being thrown to the winds.

  “John! Davey!” Instinctively Caroline shrieked their names. Dropping her basket, she started to run toward them. But already John and his followers were veering sharply to the left, out of the path of what chased them. Only Davey, hearing her cry, came on, heading straight toward her, his legs and arms pumping, his face reddened, his eyes wide with terror.

  “Aunt Caroline!” he screamed, and then Caroline saw what was behind him.

  It was a dog, surely not as much as half Raleigh’s size—although its condition made it seem as huge as Jacob—a stocky, sleek-haired black mongrel with wild eyes and slavering jaws. Foam flecked its muzzle and dribbled in strings from its open mouth. It was some five yards behind Davey, closing fast.

  Caroline reacted from purest instinct. She raced toward Davey, whose small legs were no match for the creature behind him, caught him up against her, and with his arms tight around her neck and his legs wrapping her waist fled with him to the nearest place to offer safety, a small beech tree left to grow in the corner of a yard. Boosting the child high into the branches, Caroline realized that she had no time to climb up herself, even if the tree could have held her, and she could have climbed it in her cumbersome skirts. She could hear the beast’s labored panting almost on her heels.

  Whirling, she flattened herself against the slender base of the tree as there was no time to seek other shelter. Terror awoke and raced along her spine as she beheld, at a distance of no more than a yard, the wide-open jaws studded with savage-looking teeth and pouring death-bringing saliva. Too frightened even to scream, Caroline held out both hands in a vain attempt to ward the dog off—and then, to her shocked relief, the animal raced right past her.

  Her knees gave out, and she sank, boneless, to sit trembling beneath the tree.

  “Aunt Caroline! Aunt Caroline!”

  Davey scrambled down from the tree, John pounded up from the stoop where he had huddled, and both boys dropped to their knees beside her, their faces white as they ascertained that she was unhurt. As naturally as she breathed, Caroline wrapped her arms around them, held them close, one on each side. They suffered themselves to be hugged, and even—she thought—hugged her in return. For a long moment the three of them clung together as the
aftermath of terror shook them. In the distance she heard the sound of a shot and a bellow that announced that the dog had been killed. Over the boys’ black heads she looked up to meet the cold stare of the dominie as he hurried with a rush of others to view the carcass. He said nothing to her but walked swiftly on, his robe raising a trail of dust behind it as he passed.

  “You saved Davey’s life.” John straightened first, his eyes awed as he looked at her.

  “I was so scared!” Davey still nestled close, and Caroline, greatly faring, stroked his silky hair. He did not pull away, nor did John frown at her for the familiarity, and Caroline realized that the last barrier that had held them from her had finally been breeched.

  “I had no notion I could run so fast,” Caroline confessed, and suddenly the three of them were grinning at each other like boozy fools.

  “You threw me up in the tree like I was a feather!” said Davey.

  “And that dog came at you like he was going to tear you limb from limb!” said John.

  “I thought you was done for, Aunt Caroline,” said Davey again.

  “I did too, I must admit,” Caroline responded. She hugged Davey, patted John’s shoulder, and permitted them to help her to her feet as if she were a doddering little old lady, which was exactly how she felt. They were tenderly solicitous of her as they escorted her back to where she had dropped her basket. The cod had spilled into the street and was ruined, from dust and trampling, but no harm had come to anything else. Then they were summoned by their schoolmaster. Caroline waved them off, assuring them that she would be fine, and tottered to Mary’s house where she all but collapsed on the kitchen floor. It was some time, many exclamations, and two mugs of strong tea later before Caroline felt restored enough to set out again.

  The sun was low in the western sky, a hazy, reddish ball that bathed the landscape in an orange glow. The merest suspicion of a breeze blew in from the bay, which was flecked with small whitecaps and the color of tarnished silver. Even the water looked hot. For the first time, Caroline turned down the footpath that led to the forest with something akin to pleasure. ’Twould be cool in the depths of the trees.

  Still jumpy from her fright with the dog, Caroline held the musket close beneath her right arm. The basket, heavy with the weight of her purchases, hung from her other hand. Dust motes danced through the air in front of her as she moved. Overhead, the leafy canopy was transformed by deep stains of scarlet and gold. Underfoot, leaves already fallen rustled.

  Strange markings carved into the trunk of a tree near the path caught Caroline’s eye. She paused, stepped closer, and looked at the meaningless symbols that had obviously been fashioned with such care. They almost appeared to be writing—but if they were, she could not decipher so much as a letter.

  Frowning, she stepped back onto the path—and almost immediately someone or something leaped on her back. She screeched, staggered, dropped musket and basket—and went down as more creatures joined the first. After that first scream, a horrible-tasting rag was thrust into her mouth, and she ascertained that her attackers were at least human. Her hands were pulled behind her back and bound, and then she was yanked to her feet.

  To her horror, Caroline discovered that her captors were a band of savages. Naked and painted, with naught but breechcloths and moccasins covering bodies that, from the look and smell of them, had been liberally smeared with bear grease, they were six strong.

  Even as Caroline recognized, or thought she recognized, the particular hawklike features of the savage who had appeared to her both times before, she was being hustled through the forest, leaving the path behind.

  35

  “Pa! Pa! You should’ve seen what happened today in town!”

  His boys greeted him with excited yells as they burst through the front door. Matt, who had been prowling the house and surrounding area looking for Caroline to apologize to as he had meant to do the previous morning before Daniel forestalled him, listened to their prattle with half an ear at first. ’Twas not until they had nearly finished that Matt took in the ramifications of their tale, and recognized that his direst fear might have been realized after all: Caroline might have left home. Last night, when he heard her going through her trunks through the thin walls, he feared that she was planning to leave. When he opened the door to find that thrice-damned brooch in her hand, and her in that tantalizing nightdress that drove him almost out of his mind, his fear had crystallized into something hard and hurting. ’Twould be a long time before he forgave himself for crushing an object so precious to her, although he had already set the wheels in motion to make what amends he could. It would be even longer still, he feared, before she forgave him.

  As his sons told of their encounter with the rabid dog, and recounted with enthusiasm how Caroline saved Davey’s life, one fact at least became abundantly clear: she had gone to town, and she had not come back.

  He had been home himself for some quarter of an hour, stopping work earlier than usual because of a completely irresistible impulse to make amends with Caroline. He had behaved inexcusably over the brooch, and he knew it. He had also not handled the aftermath of their lovemaking as well as he might have. He had hurt her while feeling the most exquisite pleasure himself, and the knowledge had made him feel like the lowest worm alive.

  Would he never be able to rise above the demon of lust that had plagued him all of his adult life? In his right mind, he would sooner cut off a hand than cause hurt to Caroline.

  But his lust had been all the greater because he cared for her. Even as he had taken her, tenderness had combined with desire to ignite him to a pitch far hotter than he’d ever been.

  Then Daniel had thrust his oar in to muddy the waters even more. He did not like to admit to feeling such raging jealousy for a brother he dearly loved.

  The worst of it was, he knew full well that Caroline would be better off with Daniel. He would come to her unscarred in both body and spirit, able to accept her love and return it with no shadows of the past to fall over their life together.

  While he—he was no more, and no less, than life had made him.

  But he meant to have Caroline, if he had to crawl on his hands and knees over sharp rocks to get to her—or knock his brother down again.

  The boys were hungry, and he hurriedly got out bread, cheese, jam, and milk for them before heading out the door. If she had left those two to fend for themselves, then she must be very angry with him indeed.

  Perhaps she did not intend to come back. The thought brought with it gut-wrenching pain. To hell with that, he told himself savagely, and fair knocked Rob and Thom down as they came in the rear door.

  “Where are you going?” Astonished, they fell back before him.

  “To fetch Caroline home,” he snarled. “Stay with the boys.”

  They gaped at him, but before they could question or comment, he was gone.

  With quick, angry strides he headed for the path through the woods. She would be at James’s house, of course.

  It required some doing for him to rap at James’s door and inquire of Mary whether Caroline was within, because it occurred to him that someone, either Caroline herself or Daniel or James, had almost certainly told Mary at least a part of what had happened, and he hated her knowing so intimate a thing of him. But if her smile held a trace of teasing, and her eyes a touch of humor as she assured him that no, indeed, Caroline wasn’t within, the sense of her message quickly banished his embarrassment and her enjoyment of it.

  Since Caroline was not with Mary, and was not at home, then where was she?

  Mary, almost as worried now as he, assured him that Caroline had left for home—yes, Mary was sure that was where she was heading—some hours before. And no, she couldn’t have run off with Daniel (Matt had hated to broach the possibility, but he hadn’t been able to keep it from taking possession of his mind) because Daniel had gone with James to New London the day before.

  As that last rage-provoking notion was removed, stark terror s
truck at Matt’s soul. He knew, better than most, the dangers that lurked in the woods. His first thought was of witches, but the coven met only in the darkest hours of the night and at certain phases of the moon. Caroline had disappeared in daylight, it seemed, so she couldn’t have fallen into the hands of those who had tried to claim her sister for their own.

  Begging a lantern from Mary, Matt headed back to search the road from town and the path through the forest. As he went, holding the lantern high, forced to move with maddening slowness so that he wouldn’t miss what might be the smallest sign, he bethought himself of all the other things that could have happened to her.

  She could have fallen and be lying unconscious somewhere. Perhaps he had passed right by her in his rush to get to town. She could have encountered a trapper, and the half-civilized brute could have borne her away to the Lord knew where. A mountain lion could have stalked her, a wolf could have made her its prey.…

  But in the end, when he discovered the abandoned basket and musket, left where they had fallen by the side of the path not far into the woods, unmistakable signs pointed to a fate that had not even occurred to him.

  Caroline had been stolen away by a band of Indians! Cold fear settled like a stone in his heart, and Matt set off at a dead run for home, praying for her safety as he went.

  36

  All night and all the next day Caroline found herself pushed, prodded, and dragged as she was forced to keep pace with her captors’ seemingly tireless trot. They paused only briefly to eat, and not at all to sleep, conversing from time to time in what, to Caroline, were unintelligible sounds. When she stumbled for what must have been the dozenth time and they apparently realized that it was her long skirts that were making her so clumsy, they slashed her gown off at the knee. Sheer terror gripped Caroline as the blade hacked through the gray cotton skirt and white petticoat beneath. Visions of rape and murder danced hideously through her brain. But the knife never touched her flesh, and, savages though they were, they seemed to have little interest in her as a woman. With her legs bared from the knee down save for her white cotton stockings, they pulled the gag from her mouth, shoved a peculiar-tasting bread in her face, and held it, impatiently, while she ate. Then they gave her water from an oily-looking deerskin pouch, regagged her, and prodded her off again, following the course of the Connecticut River as it rolled away from the sea.