Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 03]

by Almost Eden

  “Pa!” Aee screeched. “Ain’t nothin’ been said . . . ’bout that.”

  “Then it’s time it was. It’s goin’ to be a long winter. I got more t’ do than be a watchin’ ya don’t go slitherin’ off in the dark with ’im an’ gettin’ . . . ah . . . with a babe.”

  “I resent that!” Eli was shocked and angry. “I would never dishonor Aee.”

  “Didn’t say ya would. But there’s times the juices run high in a young buck, especially in cold weather. I ort t’ know. Got six younguns now.” He chuckled. “Ever’one of ’em got planted in the wintertime.”

  Aee was so humiliated she could not look at her father. She wanted to melt and run down into the ground and never have to look at him or Eli again. The thought of running to the river, wading out into the current and drowning herself crossed her mind. Then her father did the unexpected thing. He turned to leave.

  “I said my piece, Eli. Ya’ve said yores. Ya can court her, if ya’ve got a mind to an’ she’s willin’. Ya ort to know one thin’ right up front. She ain’t goin’ to be easy to deal with. I spoilt her. Let her have her own way too much of the time. She can be stubborn as a mule an’ meaner’n a cornered she-wolf with two pups hangin’ on her tits. But I’ll say one thin’ in her favor—she’s a crack shot.”

  Relief flooded Eli when he saw the glimmer of amusement in MacMillan’s eyes.

  “That’s good to know, Mac. But I was counting on a woman who could cut and tote a load a firewood, kill and skin out a bear, and chew deerhide to make me soft moccasins. Can she do that?”

  “I ain’t knowin’ ’bout the bear—”

  “Hush-up! Both of ya. Ya make me so mad. I got some say in this—”

  “I got t’ go. Say it to Eli.” At the door, MacMillan turned for a parting remark. “I’ll be watchin’ for when ya come out.”

  On the way to the house MacMillan passed Paul, jerked his head toward the shed and winked.

  * * *

  Alone in the sickroom Light sat up on the side of the bunk. He had to be careful not to move his head too fast, or breathe too deeply. Maggie seldom left his side. She was bitter toward Eli for shooting him and stood guard in case he came near. Paul had explained that the shooting was an accident. Light had no doubt that it was exactly that. He had arrived at the cutting site just as the Delaware were springing their unexpected attack. There had been no time to make his presence known.

  What worried Light now was how he was going to pay MacMillan for his and Maggie’s keep until he was able to hunt again. Never in all his life had he been beholden to anyone. It was humiliating, almost as much as having to use the chamber pot.

  The first few times the need arose he had let Maggie help. His wonderful Maggie, a cherished part of himself. He knew every curve, dip and secret place in her body and she knew his as well. He had turned on his side on the edge of the bunk and she held the tin pot. But when he needed to sit on it, it was a different matter. He asked her to leave. She pleaded to stay. Finally she left in tears, but minutes later Paul opened the door and came in.

  If not for the dizziness in his head Light would have been able to manage, but as it was, he was grateful for Paul’s strong arm that helped him back upon the bunk.

  Later in the day Eli walked in.

  “Paul says you’re feeling better.”

  “I am.”

  Nothing else was said. Eli picked up the chamber pot and went out. When he returned, he moved it under the bunk and stood awkwardly looking down at Light.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” Light said.

  “I think I did.”

  The door flew open. Maggie bolted into the room and got between Eli and Light’s bunk.

  “Ya come to hurt him again? Get out. Go on. Shoo! Shoo!” She fluttered her hands in a shooing motion.

  “Chérie,” Light reached for Maggie’s hand. “Don’t fret yourself.”

  “He hurt ya, Light. I don’t want him here.”

  “I’ve told you that I didn’t mean to shoot him,” Eli said in an exasperated tone. “Why don’t you believe me?”

  “’Cause I ain’t wantin’ to. Stay ’way from him.”

  “Godamighty! You think I came in here to attack a man lying flat on his back?”

  “Ya do and ya’ll get my knife in ya. I can throw it. Not as good as Light, but I could hit ya, big as ya are.”

  Eli looked over Maggie’s head and spoke to Light.

  “I came to tell you that Paul and I were lucky enough to get two big bucks this morning. MacMillan’s smokehouse will be full. There’ll be no shortage of meat.”

  “I thank you for that too.”

  “Too,” Maggie echoed. “Ya ain’t thankin’ him for shootin’ ya, are ya?”

  “No, sweet pet.”

  Eli spun around and went out the door. Damn! He had missed his chance again. The burden of what he had to say to Baptiste Lightbody was bearing down hard on him. He wanted it over and out of the way so he would be free to plan his life with Aee.

  They had walked out last night with Mac’s approval. Eli had taken her to Light’s lodge and built a fire. They had talked for several hours—the longest uninterrupted time he had spent with her and the first time they had talked without sniping at each other. He had been surprised and pleased with her intelligence and her commonsense approach to life.

  It had been difficult, there in the cozy lodge with his sweet woman in his arms, but he had managed to keep their kisses from getting out of hand.

  Eli had not realized until now what it meant to love a woman and have her love him in return. The feeling was so warm and wonderful that when they left the lodge, he felt that he was walking several feet above the ground. In all his thirty years, he had not known such a love between a man and a woman existed. Since falling in love with Aee, he had a better understanding of how it was between Maggie and Light.

  * * *

  “Chérie, you are being unreasonable.”

  “I don’t like him anymore.” She had a sulky look on her face. “He hurt ya, Light.”

  “It wasn’t as if he shot me deliberately. He had no way of knowing I was not a Delaware—”

  “I don’t care,” she said stubbornly. “I don’t know why Aee likes him. She’s lettin’ him court her.”

  “You told me last night. Does it make you sad that he’s courting her?”

  “No. Aee’s happy. She smiles all the time. Bee teases her, her pa teases her. Mr. Bodkin isn’t happy. He wanted to court her too. I’m glad she chose Eli.”

  Maggie began to smile, then giggle. Her magnificent green eyes shone like polished stones.

  “I ain’t still mad at him, but I ain’t tellin’ him yet. I want him to feel bad ’bout hurtin’ ya. But I told Aee. She said it wasn’t nice of me t’ carry on like that. But she won’t tell him.”

  “Ah, ma chéri. What will I do with you?”

  She leaned over him. “Ya can kiss me. I’ve missed our lovin’.” They exchanged tender, sweet kisses. “When can we go to our lodge?”

  “Soon, pet. As soon as I can protect you should the need arise.”

  Maggie lay down beside him. He pillowed her head on his uninjured shoulder. His doubts that perhaps someday she would prefer a man like Eli, one who was completely white, had vanished. He pressed his lips to her forehead.

  “Tell me how it’ll be when we get to our mountain,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  When two days of exceptionally warm weather went by, Light began to chafe at being cooped up in the room. He now dressed with Maggie’s help and tended the fire. Mrs. MacMillan had removed the bandage from around his head and, according to her, the other wound was healing too. She thought it a miracle he hadn’t come down with a fever.

  The accident had made Light realize how easily his life could be taken. His worries about Maggie and what torments she would endure if she were left alone in the wilderness confirmed his resolve to speak to Caleb. The Negro had expressed an interest in
the new land. Other than Jefferson Merrick or Will Murdock, Light knew of no one more capable to entrust with Maggie’s safety than Caleb.

  The men at the homestead were taking advantage of the good weather to work on the potash. Eli had become interested in the byproduct gleaned from burning patches of forest to use for farmland. MacMillan had convinced him that potash sold well in the east.

  Eli and Aee had put their heads together and were trying to figure out a way to make soap that had a nice smell to it. Eli thought it would sell in St. Charles and St. Louis. They had even named it “Wilderness Flower.”

  Maggie related the news to Light. She described in detail, to his amusement, the dresses Mrs. Mac had cut from the fabric Eli had given them.

  Bodkin, she told him, had been moping around since Aee had begun walking out with Eli. Lately Bodkin had turned his attentions to Bee. This had not sat well with Dixon. Maggie thought it great fun to watch the two men vie for the attention of MacMillan’s shy daughter. Bee had taken to putting her hair up in a new way and making sure the clean side of her apron was turned out at mealtime.

  Light was bored and tired of inactivity. He had asked Caleb to bring a hide from his lodge so he could make Maggie an extra pair of moccasins. Mrs. Mac suggested that he not work his arm and shoulder for a few more days.

  This afternoon he had taken a small whetstone from his pack and sharpened his knives. He had just finished and was putting them back in his pack when Eli came in. Light half-expected to see Maggie dash in behind him. A smile flickered across his dark face.

  Eli read his thoughts.

  “Aee is going to keep Maggie busy so I can talk to you. All women like new dresses . . . or so I’m told. They’re making one for Maggie today.”

  “I hold no ill feelings about the shooting,” Light said abruptly, thinking that the only reason for Eli’s visit was to apologize.

  “I was hasty—”

  “There was no time to let you know I was there.”

  “I know that, but Maggie will never forgive me. It tore her to pieces.”

  Light said nothing. He wasn’t a man to speak unless a reply was required.

  “I know it’s bothering you that you’re not holding up your end here at MacMillan’s right now. I’d feel the same. Paul and I will furnish meat for the homestead until you’re on your feet.” Eli’s grin was somewhat boyish. “Neither of us is the hunter you are, but we’ll make out.”

  “I’m obliged.”

  Eli stood on first one foot and then the other. Now that he was here, he didn’t know how to start. What he had to say to Light couldn’t be blurted right out.

  Light sensed Eli’s unease, and he felt a bit of apprehension. What did this man have to say that was so hard for him to spit out?

  “Lightbody is a name I’ve not heard before,” Eli began. “Did your folks come from Canada?”

  Light looked at him squarely, his black eyes snaring blue ones and holding them. There must be something more important than curiosity about his name lying behind the question.

  “My father did.”

  “Was he French?”

  “He was. My mother was Osage, as you know.”

  “How did you get the name Lightbody? It’s not French.”

  “My mother named me Lightbody because I was small at birth. Indian children do not necessarily carry their father’s name.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Eli looked down at his feet, then at the wall, avoiding the questioning gaze of the man who sat on the bunk. “What was your father’s name?” Eli waited in a vacuum of uncertainty for the answer.

  “Pierre Baptiste.”

  Eli’s rigid shoulders slumped. He had not been aware that he was holding his breath until the air came from his mouth in a rush.

  “Yes,” he said. Then again, “Yes.”

  Light sensed that this was a very important moment for Eli and waited patiently, as was his way, to discover the connection with him. Eli seemed unable to speak.

  Finally Light broke the silence. “Why are you interested in my father’s name?”

  “Because . . . because my father’s name was also Pierre Baptiste.”

  The words were totally unexpected. The implication did not register at once with Light.

  “How can that be? You said you were Swedish. Baptiste is a French name, a common name. There are probably many other Frenchmen by that name.”

  “That may be true, but none of them with a son named Baptiste Lightbody. You’re my brother, Light. Like it or not.”

  Light was stunned. He looked at the tall man standing in front of him and suddenly it hit him why Eli had looked so familiar to him. Eli’s eyes and eyebrows were like Light’s father’s and he held his head slightly to the side as Pierre Baptiste had done. Light looked for other similarities, but found none. He remembered his father as being a big man, even bigger than Eli.

  “I understand that this is hard for you to take in all at once. I’ve had five years to think about it.” Eli pulled up his shirt and unwrapped a doeskin belt from around his waist. He unfolded it on the bunk and took out a letter. “Ten years ago my father sent this letter up the Ohio to Sloan Carroll at Carrolltown. He had known him many years ago. In it he inquires about me. He felt that he had been wrong to go and leave me behind. But, as the letter relates, his life with my mother was far from pleasant.

  “Five years back Sloan discovered my whereabouts and sent a message for me to come see him. Until that time I had thought I had no blood kin anywhere in the world.” Eli handed the letter to Light.

  Light took the paper but did not unfold it. He looked hard at Eli.

  “If what you say is true, your father is what is known as a squaw man. Whites look down on a white man who marries an Indian woman and begets half-breed children. How do you feel about that?”

  “At first I was angry that my father left me with a mother who despised me because I was his son; I was resentful that he had taken up with an Indian woman. But, now . . . well, time has a way of sorting things out. Read the letter.”

  Light folded back the single sheet of paper. The ink had faded until it was nearly impossible to make out all the words. He did see his mother’s name, Willow Wind, and a reference to “my son, Baptiste Lightbody.” The paper had torn apart at the fold, but his father’s bold signature, Pierre Baptiste, was unmistakable. Light folded the paper carefully and handed it back to Eli.

  “It’s in bad shape. Could you make out the words? I’ve been trying to save it until you could read it.”

  “I saw my mother’s name and mine. I’ve no doubt my father wrote it.”

  Eli returned the letter to the doeskin belt and wrapped it about his waist. He sank into the chair, relieved that the words were out at last but uncertain about how Light felt about what he had just been told.

  “The letter was in better condition when I got it, but I’ve folded and unfolded and read every word a hundred times. Obviously, Pierre Baptiste loved your mother and pitied mine. He wanted to know if I still lived and, if I did, where I was.” Eli paused. “My impression was that he was a good man who probably had to marry. He just was unable to live the kind of life my mother demanded.”

  Light nodded, then said: “He was a good father. He loved my mother and was not ashamed of his half-breed children.”

  “My mother was Swedish. When she was a young girl, she came with her parents to Louisville, a town up on the Ohio. She was their only child and they doted on her. My grandparents baked bread and cakes to sell. We all lived together in the back of their store. I don’t know what my father’s work was during this time, but I don’t believe it was in the bakery. He left when I was so young that I don’t remember him at all.”

  Eli was silent for a short while before he continued.

  “Mother had fits of yelling and hitting and crying. She would fly into a rage that lasted for days. I was five or six when my grandparents died. I remember them and how they did everything they could for my mother and me. The on
ly loving attention I received when I was a child was from my grandma.

  “The bake shop shut down after Granny and Grandpa died. We lived for a while on the money they left us. Mother constantly harped on the fact that my father had deserted me and what a rapscallion he was. She said I was a bastard, which I know now was not true. I was not to use his name or speak it. I was never to forget that I was a Nielson.

  “She insisted that I go to the docks every day and seek work. She was determined that I not be lazy like him. As I grew older I came to realize Pierre Baptiste may have had a good reason to leave us. Sloan Carroll told me that he left with the blessing of my grandparents and that they had assured him they would take care of Mother and me. They did until they died five years later.”

  Light sat quietly, but his mind was far from quiet. It was a struggle to accept this man as his father’s son. He knew of men who had sired offspring by several different women and then had gone away and left them. This was not something the father he knew would have done.

  “My mother died when I was eleven.” Eli told him. “I went to the shack we lived in and found her. She had hanged herself or one of her . . . friends had hanged her. I’ve wondered all these years if something happened before she met my father to make her not . . . quite right in the head or if she had been that way since birth. I don’t think ill of her. I want you to know that. She was my mother and gave me life. She couldn’t help being the way she was.”

  “What did you do after she died?”

  “I met Paul. He was footloose like me. He was about sixteen, I’d say, and had run away from a bad life in Canada. He didn’t speak a word of English. I didn’t speak a word of French, but we got along. He was like a father to me, although we are nearly the same age.”

  “Didn’t you think of looking for your father?”

  “Not once. I was scared to death he would find me. It had been drummed into my head ever since I could remember that he was the devil come to life.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “My mind wasn’t changed about finding him. Sloan’s message had reached Louisville and had lain around there for several years while I was freighting farther up the Ohio. I happened onto it by accident when I returned there to buy freight goods. On a trip downriver, Paul and I stopped at Carrolltown. Sloan gave me the letter. I was shocked to learn that my father had even thought of me. Since our first visit to Carrolltown, Paul and I have become friends with Sloan. We have visited in his home many times.”