He kicked his chair with one moccasined foot. It fell over backward slamming into the sanded plank floor. "What did you say?" he asked the trapper.
The trapper stood. "Said I don't need nothin' from you, redskin. What do you think you're doing with that white woman? She your whore or something'?"
Leah flinched as without warning, Harrison threw himself across the table and struck the trapper in the side of his head with his fist.
Damn, she thought leaping up out of her chair. The second trapper already had Harrison by a handful of hair. One day out, and he's going to get us both killed.
Chapter Eight
As the pig-tailed trapper dragged Harrison down by a hank of black hair, the other trapper sank his fist into the pit of Harrison's stomach. Harrison gave a grunt, doubling over, but as he rose, he brought the back of his head up beneath his attacker's chin.
Leah winced as Pigtail's head snapped back with a sickening crunch. He fell backward onto a trestle table sending a pewter plate full of stew spinning through the air.
"Stop it, Harrison!" Leah shouted. "We don't have time for this nonsense! You're going to get yourself killed!"
But of course he wasn't listening. He probably never heard her. Before the Pigtail could get up off the table, Harrison hurled himself on top of him, screaming like some wild banshee—like a savage.
The other trapper immediately came to his companion's aid. Leaping through the air, he landed on Harrison's back and began to choke him.
Leah lifted her skirts and ran for the kitchen. She had to find Joshua and stop this madness. Adult men scrapping like school children! They ought to be ashamed of themselves! But of course they wouldn't be. Fighting was one of those male quirks she had come to accept as part of their nature. Still, she didn't want Harrison hurt. The jackass was supposed to be rescuing her son, not starting tavern brawls.
By the time Leah reached the kitchen door, most of the tavern patrons had risen out of their seats to see the disturbance. The sailors near the door were throwing coins on the table as they placed bets as to the outcome of the fight. One table of men were cheering for the trappers, while another table in the far corner were hollering for the redskin.
Leah almost collided with Joshua at the kitchen door.
"What's going on here?" he demanded, wiping his wet hands on his apron. "I go out to dump a bucket of slops and by the time I get back I've got a war under my own roof?"
"It's Harrison." She grasped Joshua's sleeve. "You've got to do something. He's had too much to drink. It's unfair! It's two against one."
Joshua squinted with one eye. "You're a damn sight right. It is unfair. Ain't no way those two boys can beat my boy Harrison in a fist fight."
Leah scowled. "So are you going to stop them or aren't you?" The sound of splitting wood drew both his and her attention. Harrison and Pigtail had landed on a table so hard that it had collapsed on the floor, taking them with it.
"Christ, Harrison, not the furniture!" Joshua yelled swinging his fist. "Take it outside and spare my property!"
But Harrison either didn't hear his friend or chose to ignore him. One second he was pummeling one of the trappers with his fists, the next minute both had him down on the floor, kicking him in the side.
Leah dropped her hands to her hips in agitation. "So are you going to put a stop to this or not?"
Joshua threw up a hand. "Give him another minute or two. An occasional fight's good for a man's blood."
Leah looked back at Harrison. Somehow all three men had landed on the hearth of one of the twin fireplaces. Pigtail's companion was lying to one side, holding his knee and looking dazed. Harrison and Pigtail were locked arm in arm as they rolled across the floor. The trapper grabbed Harrison's head and slammed it hard against the brick hearth.
"That does it!" Leah muttered beneath her breath. If Joshua wasn't going to stop this idiocy, she would. The only question was, how? She had her pistol in her boot, but she didn't want to use it if she didn't have to. Besides, if she actually had to pull the trigger, there were two trappers and only one shot. She glanced wildly about the public for a weapon. Then she spotted the drover's whip leaning against the wall. She ran to the wall and snatched it up.
Physical punishment was not doled out on Tanner's Gift without great consideration, but when it was deemed necessary, it was Leah who did the whipping. Edmund had never had the stomach for it, and Leah had never felt it was an overseer's job. Just a few months ago she had been forced to lash one of her bondservants for repeatedly becoming drunk and beating his wife and children. Leah had hated to tie him to the whipping post, but he'd remained sober since.
She clasped her fingers around the fine leather handle of the whip with confidence. The weight felt good in her hand. "Pardon me," she told the drover as she walked away. "I need to borrow this for a minute."
Just as she reached the hearth, Pigtail's companion began to raise himself off the floor.
"That will be enough, gentlemen," Leah called above the din of shouting tavern patrons.
Pigtail's friend made a fast movement, but she snapped the whip with her hand, making it crack above his head. The whip's tail came so close to his face that he flinched when it popped and the back of his head struck the floor.
"Move again and you'll feel the bite," she warned.
Still dazed, the trapper went limp on the floor. Leah walked around him, still keeping sight of him out of the corner of her eye as she approached Harrison and Pigtail. "I said, that will be enough," Leah called to Pigtail.
Harrison had just managed to throw Pigtail off his chest and was staggering to his feet when he spotted Leah.
"Get the hell back," Harrison shouted, wiping his bloody nose with the sleeve of his tunic. "This isn't your concern, Leah!"
"Damned if it isn't! I hired you to get my son back, not pick fights with marsh rats," Leah shouted furiously.
"Look out!" Harrison cried, diving for her.
Leah spun around to see Pigtail walking straight for her. "I said that will be enough fighting," she intoned, drawing back her whip.
Pigtail came to a halt. "You talking to me, woman?" he bellowed.
She planted both feet firmly on the floor. "That I am."
Pigtail threw his head back in mirth. "Your woman coming to your rescue, Injun?" he taunted. "Come to save your red hide?"
When Pigtail made his move, Leah was ready. She snapped the whip as hard as she could. The braided rat tail of black leather caught his arm. The leather wrapped round and round his bare flesh.
"Ouch! Damn you, bitch!" He jerked on the whip tail, but before he could grab it, Leah drew it back again. This time she struck him in the cheek, drawing blood.
Pigtail touched his hand to his cheek, smearing the blood. "Don't maim me, woman. We were just funnin' with the redskin." He rubbed his cheek again. "Blast it, but you got an arm!"
At this point Leah came to the conclusion that the trappers were no real threat now. Pigtail had backed down too easily. He and his companion had probably started the fight out of restlessness. "Take your friend and get out." She jerked her chin in the direction of the door.
By this time Harrison had made his way to Leah's side. "What in God's good name do you think you're doing?" he snapped viciously.
She watched Pigtail help his friend to his feet and the two start for the door. The tavern patrons were clapping and stomping their feet.
"You lose, Freddy. Ye didn't bet on the woman," someone cried with laughter.
"Blast if she don't strike a mean whip," quipped another.
Their voices faded into the background noise as Leah turned to Harrison. "What was I doing? What were you doing?" She let the whip slide through her fingers until the handle hit the floor. "Picking fights that's what you were doing."
He pushed his finger into her face. "You shouldn't have done that. I was holding my own."
"Perhaps, but you've have been so battered you'd have been no good to me for a week!"
; He still held up his finger. She could smell the ale and anger on his breath. "You made a fool of me, Leah."
"You made a fool of yourself," she hissed.
He took a deep breath, and then looked back at her. "I'm warning you, don't you ever do that again. I don't need your help, you understand? I don't need anyone's help so don't be coming to my rescue again."
Harrison's voice was so low and even that he frightened her. There was so much hate in his voice, so much bitterness. Leah couldn't help wondering if this was her fault. Had she made him into this hard, caustic man? Had what she had done as a sixteen-year-old really ruined his life? She lowered her gaze. "We still have to see to the horses and the supplies."
"I'll see to it. What of the money?"
"Use what you need of what I gave you back on the trail. I've more sewn into my bag."
"I'll see to it. You just get upstairs to your room."
"I'll go." She toyed with the braided tail of the whip still in her hand. "I'll go, but because I want to, not because you tell me. You understand me, Harrison?"
He grabbed the whip from her hand and stalked off. She watched him return the whip to the drover and then disappear out the front door. With a sigh, she went to look for Joshua. It had been a long day and she was ready to turn in.
The tavern owner showed her to a small, neat, bedchamber above the kitchen. It was furnished with nothing more than a rope bedstead and a single table with a candle stand on it, but it was clean and the bedding lacked vermin. The room was warm and cozy, heated by the bare kitchen chimney that covered one entire wall. Closing the door behind Joshua and throwing the bolt, Leah walked to the small octagonal window cut out of the far wall. She gazed out at the moon. In a few nights it would be full.
She thought of William. She traced a pattern on the frosty glass. "I'm coming, son. Hang on," she whispered.
Catching a glimmer of light down below, Leah leaned closer to the window. Her breath frosted the window and she had to wipe it with her sleeve. There was a fire burning below in front of the tavern's barn and several men gathered around it. She spotted Harrison by his silhouette.
He stood out in his Indian garb among the other men. Wherever they went he would cause attention, a white woman traveling with a savage. The logical answer, of course, was for him to dress like a Colonial, better yet, an Englishman. There were enough men of mixed blood these days that he would probably draw few stares wearing the right dress. The question was, would he agree to play along?
Leah knew it would be smarter to wait until morning to address the problem, but she also knew she'd not sleep if she didn't discuss it with him now.
She went to the peg rack on the wall near the door and grabbed her cloak. Better to get these details decided on now, she thought. Then they could concentrate on William.
Leah went downstairs, through the public room which was now nearly empty, and out into the cold night air. She went around the back of the tavern and when Harrison spotted her, he left the warmth of the fire and the company of the men to meet her.
"I thought I told you to stay upstairs. You don't belong wandering around in the dark. Those trappers might still be hanging around and here you are without your drover's whip."
She pushed her hood off her head to get a deep breath of the brisk autumn night air. She despised his sarcasm. "Seems to me I'm not the one starting the fights," she said tartly. "I wonder if you'd be the one better off upstairs and let me sleep with the men."
Harrison surprised her by chuckling. "Touché, Mistress Beale."
She couldn't resist a smile. Had another truce been struck? "I need to talk to you about the traveling arrangements."
"You want to go back inside? It's cold out here."
She shook her head. "Harrison, I've been running a plantation for more than eight years. I've cut tobacco in freak snowstorms, I've hoed in the broiling sun, I've packed dried tobacco into hogsheads in the pouring rain. I'm not the child you once knew. I'm not a garden flower to shrivel under the weather."
"No, I don't suppose you are, are you, Leah?"
She pushed her thick red braid off her shoulder. "I was thinking." She paused searching her mind for the right words. "I was thinking that in light of what happened tonight you'd be better to conform to . . . " She exhaled. She didn't want him to think she was embarrassed to be seen with an Indian. She didn't want him to take it personally. "Harrison, I think you need to shed the buckskins and the feathers in your hair and put on a pair of breeches and a coat."
"I'm not ashamed of who I am." He struck his broad chest with his bruised fist. "I'm proud to be called Shawnee."
"I know you are, but it would just make things easier if you would pretend to be a planter, just until we reach the American camps and find out what happened. We'll cause far less suspicion traveling that way."
"A planter?"
"I figure we've got two choices. We go overland through Delaware to New Jersey, or up the bay by boat. Overland is safer, but slower. We go up through the bay we'll be to Jersey in three to four days. But we'll have to come in at Head of Elk."
"Aren't there British troops in northern Delaware?"
"Could be."
"And you don't see a problem here, you Mistress Beale, wife of Captain Beale of Washington's army?"
"How will they know who I am or what side I choose? I've no American flag tattooed across my forehead. I'll pretend to be someone else."
"And me? Who will I pretend to be?"
"My husband."
"Your husband?"
"I've got it all figured out."
"Why does that not surprise me?"
Leah went on, ignoring his caustic remark. "You see, I'll be Lady Monroe, Commander Howe's third cousin."
"Commander Howe? Leah, I've been gone a long time."
"Commander Howe—as in commander of the English ground forces."
"That Commander Howe."
"And you're my new husband just come from England," she went on. "It will be easy enough to get away with because I know Lucy Monroe. She's from south of Dover, down in Sussex. We were friends before the war divided our families. She really did just remarry."
He laughed, but without any humor in his voice. "It will never work. You'll have us strung up before we reach New Jersey."
She touched his sleeve. "No, it will work. We just say I'm traveling to New York to see Auntie So-And-So to introduce my new husband. We'll slip right through the English lines and up into Jersey."
"Leah, I've not had a pair of breeches on in years." He touched the fringed outer tunic he wore. "This is who I am now."
"Look," Leah sounded tired, on the verge of exhaustion. She could hear it in her own voice. "I don't care who you are, I just want my son back."
He took her arm and led her back toward the tavern door. "It's time you got some sleep. I'll wake you in the morning."
"I know going by boat will delay us a few hours. We'll have to find someone willing to take us up the bay. But the few hours lost will be worth it. I have to get to New Jersey as quickly as possible, Harrison. I have to find my son."
Harrison opened the tavern door and a rush of warm air escaped. "Get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning."
Leah looked up at him, wondering how she could be so furious with him one moment and then so appreciative of him the next. Her emotions were in such a jumble. But she knew it must be because of William and all the stress she was under.
Harrison reached out and brushed a lock of red hair off her cheek. After the way he had carried on with her earlier, she was surprised by his gesture.
"Good night," she whispered, remembering his kiss.
"Good night," he answered and then he was gone.
When Harrison knocked on Leah's bedchamber door the following morning she was already awake. She had washed her face with the cold water left in a basin and brushed her teeth. She was dressed in the same somber traveling gown she'd been wearing since she left Tanner's Gift. As she smoothed the wrin
kles of the overskirt she wished she'd brought another gown, something a little more feminine. Then she had to laugh at herself. How long had it been since she'd been concerned with anything but the utility of her clothing?
"Harrison?" Leah pulled back her freshly brushed hair and tied it with a black grosgrain ribbon. "That you?"
"Commander Howe, here," he called in his best English accent. "Come to receive my dear third cousin, Sally."
"Lucy," Leah corrected. She lifted the bedchamber door latch and pulled open the door. She touched her palms to her cheeks, bursting into laughter.
Harrison struck a courtly pose, one foot in front of the other to show-off his pale blue clocked stockings. She couldn't stop laughing. The costume would have been acceptable in any drawing room on this continent or the next. It might well have been found in her own husband's linen press, but for some reason Harrison looked ridiculous. It was so unlike the man he had become.
He was wearing a white shirt with a linen ruffle and a coat, waistcoat, and breeches of matching blue and green floral and lozenge silk suiting trimmed with silver gimp and buttons. His hair was rolled at each side and tied in a long queue down his back with a large pale blue silk ribbon. In his hand he carried a black wool cocked hat with a pale blue rosette on one side.
"You don't care for my dress?" he asked maintaining the accent. He swept his hand effeminately. "I'm deeply injured."
She watched him walk into her room, still amazed by the transformation. Where had her savage gone? "The blue ribbon in the hair is a nice touch," she teased.
He brushed his fingertips across the silk bow. "I thought so. Joshua thought it a skosh much."
"Harrison where did you get such a contraption?"
"Bought it from a gentleman walking down the street."
"You didn't! A stranger off the street?"
He shrugged, still playing the fop. "Gads, woman. Do you know how long I had to wait this early in the day to find someone my size?"
"You used my money to buy that?"
"Look, you want me to play the part or don't you? Besides, you told me money was not a problem." He stroked his freshly shaven chin. "Now we've got to do something about your apparel."
Whispered Promise Page 9