Wild Innocence (4 page)

“What are you doing breaking into the house of the blacksmith?” he said gruffly.

“I wasn't trying to break in!” she gasped.

“Silence!” He waved the knife; she could see the blade gleaming in the darkness.

She stiffened and jerked back. “Be careful,” she exclaimed, “or you'll hurt someone!”

He grunted. “Who are you?”

“I don't have to tell you.” She hesitated, then boldly asked, “Who are you?”

He tugged her out of the shadow of the building, into a shaft of moonlight, then released her. “I am Black-Hawk-Who-Hunts-at-Dawn, war chief of the
Anishinaabe.”

Rachel gasped as she saw his long dark hair, his clothing. “You're an Indian!”

He narrowed his gaze. “And you are a white woman.”

“I am Rachel Dempsey, and this is my sister's house!”

“Then why are you not inside?”

“Amelia's not here,” she said. “She doesn't know I've come.”

“You are sister to Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend?” He put away the knife, slipping it into the sheath in his legging strap.

“I don't know what you are talking about!”

He shifted, so that the moonlight outlined his face clearly. Rachel drew a sharp breath. “No,” she whispered. “It can't be you.” But it was him—the Indian in her dream.

“Why are you following me?” she asked.

He frowned. “I do not understand. I did not follow you in the forest. I have been at my village. I have come with my friend, Daniel.”

She felt a jolt. “You know Daniel?”

The brave nodded. He was really quite an interesting man to look at, Rachel thought.

“Daniel Trahern,” he said. “We have been friends for many winters.”

“Daniel is away. Why are you here?”

“Daniel is here. I came with him.”

“My sister is home?” she cried.

“She is home and asleep ... if you do not wake her with your loud whispers. She is with child and needs her rest.”

“Child?” she echoed, shocked by the news. “No ... she can't be.”

“She is with child. I have heard it from my friend.” His gaze narrowed. “If you are her sister, why do you not know this?”

“I told you, she doesn't know I'm here!”
Amelia is with child!

“How do I know that you are sister to Daniel's wife?”

“Ask me about her ... about anything but the baby. I'll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“What is the hair color of Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend?”

Rachel scowled. “What is a tree that will not bend?”

“It is the Ojibwa name for your sister.”

“Then you believe that she is my sister.” She was startled. Her sister had an Ojibwa name?

He stared at her hard. “I do not know this. What is her hair color?”

“She has brown hair. Not the color of mine, but softer. Her eyes are gray.”

He caught her chin, held her face up to the moonlight. “You have eyes like the grass of summer.” His touch burned her skin.

“I have green eyes, yes,” she said, shaken by his hands on her.

“Why not you have the same eyes as Amelia?”

“We don't have to have the same hair and eyes to be siblings.”

He released her. “What is ‘siblings?' ”

“Sisters.” She was relieved when he stepped away. “Brothers. People who have the same mother and father.”

An owl hooted in the near distance, startling her. “This conversation is ridiculous and pointless,” she said with exasperation. “It doesn't matter whether or not you believe me. It's late, and I'm tired. I'm going across to my hotel room to get some sleep.”

She started to walk away. He grabbed her.

“You are sister to Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend,” he said softly.

Rachel's heart pumped hard as she looked down at his hand on her arm. She lifted her head to gaze up at him. “What convinced you?”

He withdrew his hand, but her arm retained the heated imprint of his fingers. “You are sturdy like Daniel's wife. You have hard head and courage like Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend.”

She stiffened and narrowed her gaze. “Are you saying that I'm stubborn?”

He grinned in the darkness. His smile dazzled her, unnerved her. Rachel felt the hairs tingle at the back of her neck, as sensation traveled down her spine. She stared at his mouth. The memory of her dream made her blush and avert her gaze.

“You do not like to have courage?” he asked.

“Is that what I have?” she asked, glancing back, pleased by the thought.

He nodded. “I will see you in the house of your sister?”

“I suppose so.” Was this Indian really Amelia's friend?
My sister has really changed,
she thought.

The brave tilted his head as he studied her. “Why have you come?” he asked.

She felt a knot form in her stomach. She wouldn't tell him about Jordan. She wasn't sure she'd tell Amelia about him. “To see my family.”

“Why have you not come sooner?”

Rachel averted her gaze. “It wasn't a good time before now.”

“You have come for a visit?”

“I've—ah—come to stay.”

He was silent for such a long moment that Rachel shifted uncomfortably. “You are running away,” he said.

“I am not!” He was too close to the truth. How could a savage even guess what she was doing here?

Black-Hawk-Who-Hunts-at-Dawn nodded his head. “Something has driven you from your home.”

“Yes,” she said, annoyed, “my desire to see my family.”

He shrugged, calling attention to his wide, bronzed shoulders and his muscular forearms. “You go to sleep now. It is late. The morning sun will rise soon, and you will be tired.”

“I'll go to bed when I'm good and ready!”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“Fortunately, I'm good and ready now,” she muttered as she turned away.

She had not gone but a few feet when his voice came back to her in the darkness. “May the Great Spirit protect you while you sleep.”

Startled by his words, she gazed at him. “Good night,” she said softly. Then, she turned away, conscious of his continued gaze as she crossed the street and slipped inside the hotel.

“Rachel! Rachel!” A voice accompanied the heavy hammering on the bedchamber door. “Wake up! Rachel!”

Rachel sat up, feeling groggy. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, then glanced warily at the door.

“Rachel!”

“Miranda?” She finally recognized that the voice was her friend's.

“Yes! Hurry and open up!”

“Just a minute!” she called as she swung her legs to the floor. It took her a moment to get her balance. Why did she feel so tired? She had gone to bed early enough; in fact, she had missed supper. Then, she'd had this wild dream, she thought as she moved toward the door. She'd dreamed about an Indian. First, she'd dreamed she'd seen him again in the forest, then outside by the house across the road.

“Rachel, hurry! I have to tell you something,” Miranda exclaimed.

“What's so important that it can't wait a few seconds!” Rachel said as she threw open the door. She stepped back to allow her friend entry.

Miranda studied her from head to toe. “You're not dressed yet! What's wrong with you, Rach? You should have had enough rest. Are you ill?”

“No, I'm not sick. I didn't sleep that well, is all.”

“Well, you look peaked.”

“I'm fine,” Rachel said. “Really.”

“Good.” Miranda suddenly wore a funny grin. “I just found out something I think you'll find interesting.”

“My sister is home,” Rachel guessed, not really believing it. She'd dreamt it, but it couldn't be true. She turned in time to see Miranda's face fall.

“How did you know that?”

“What?”

“That Amelia came home yesterday afternoon.”

Rachel stiffened. “Amelia came home yesterday afternoon?” She felt shaken. It had been a dream, hadn't it?

Miranda looked at her strangely. “You didn't know.”

Rachel shook her head. “I was joking.”

“Well, it's no joke that yesterday Amelia and her husband came home from wherever they were.”

“I see.” She turned away so Miranda couldn't see that she was upset by news of her sister's return. Why? Because Amelia was married?

“Aren't you excited?” Miranda asked. “We've come all this way for you to be reunited with your family, and now that the time is near for you to see them, you act as if you have no desire to.”

Rachel spun to face her. “Of course I want to see them!” She hugged herself with her arms. “Do you think it will be easy for me to tell them that I'm a failure? Do you think it won't be hard to explain about Jordan?”

“Oh, Rachel ...” Miranda hurried forward to hug her friend. “I'm sorry,” she said softly. “I didn't think.”

Rachel managed to give her a smile. “It'll be like reliving the whole incident again.”

“Then don't tell them.”

“Don't tell them?” Rachel echoed.

“Do they really have to know?” Miranda moved to sit on Rachel's bed. “You can tell them later, when it doesn't hurt so much.”

Would it ever stop hurting?
Rachel wondered. “I suppose I don't have to tell them.”

“Right.” Miranda patted the bed, testing the mattress. “You decide when you want to tell them, if you want to tell them. No sense pouring salt into the wounds.”

The idea of keeping silent on the matter appealed to Rachel. She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

She went to the dresser and stared in the mirror. She looked bright-eyed and pale. Why did she have to tell them anything?
Because I need an excuse for why I'm here.

“What am I going to tell them?” she asked. “They'll think it strange that I've come.” She picked up a hairbrush and began to pull it through her hair. “When they left, I was enjoying the round of social engagements.”

Miranda tilted her head, as if thoughtful. Her expression brightened. “I know!” She grinned. “Tell them that you had a suitor that wouldn't stop bothering you. Because of him, you felt in peril staying in Baltimore.”

Rachel widened her eyes. “That might work.” Surely, they'd understand that she'd wanted to escape such an ardent beau. She frowned. She didn't like lying to her family. Then, something else occurred to her. “What if Aunt Bess writes and mentions Jordan?”

Miranda gave her a funny look. “How long did you wait for a response after writing your father and sister about the wedding? I doubt they even received that letter. And if they do happen to receive one from Aunt Bess, it will be a long time from now. By then, you would have felt comfortable enough to have told them the truth.”

The mention of the letter she'd sent her father and sister brought a nervous flutter to Rachel's stomach. “What shall I do if I find out that they received the letter I sent them? The one inviting them to the wedding?”

Her friend smiled. “All you have to say is that you found out that your intended wasn't the man you'd thought him to be. He turned out to be a jealous madman, who wouldn't allow you to even talk with another man.” She got up from the bed. “Including George! That should convince them you were wise to leave Baltimore.”

Rachel grinned. “I think it will work.” She went to the window to stare down at her sister's house. Studying the log cabin, she searched for the courage to cross the road and knock on Amelia's door. “I hate it that I have to lie.”

Miranda joined her at the window. “You don't have to,” she said softly. “I'll do the talking.”

“You will?” Rachel turned with a hopeful look toward her friend.

“Of course I will. You've always tried to help me. Now I have a chance to do something for you.”

Rachel's gaze held surprise. “I was able to come because of you! You and your uncle made this trip possible for me.”

“That's what friends are for ... to help one another.” A film of tears filled Miranda's eyes. “What am I going to do without you?” she whispered.

Rachel felt the sting of tears. “I'll miss you so much.” She gave the other young woman a hug. “You will stay for a little while, won't you?”

Miranda nodded. “If I can convince Uncle Rupert. I'm not in any hurry to make that trip back.”

“Not anxious to sleep in the woods again?”

Her friend chuckled as she glanced toward the window. Turning to gaze outside, Rachel stiffened as she saw the door to the cabin across the road open and a young woman step outside. It was Amelia.

“Why, there's your sister now,” Miranda commented. “She looks well.”

Rachel stared at Amelia and felt an overwhelming rush of love. “She looks wonderful,” she said huskily.
But she doesn't look like she's with child.

She experienced a jolt. Amelia wasn't going to have a baby. She had dreamed that the Indian had told her her sister was expecting. Their conversation hadn't been real.

“Don't you think you had better go down there and greet her?” Miranda reached to open the window. “Unless you want to call her from here—”

“No, don't!”

Miranda straightened. “Then you'd best get dressed and see your sister.”

Rachel nodded.

“Are you going to wear that?” Miranda was studying a gown that was draped over the back of the chair.

Glancing toward the garment, Rachel felt the blood drain from her face. It was the garment she'd chosen to wear in her dream, when she'd confronted the Indian in the dark, near her sister's cabin.

She transferred her gaze to her clothes trunk, which looked as if it had been closed in a hurry, as the lid wasn't shut tight. A blue sleeve from one of the gowns hung over the side of the chest.

She looked around the room for the gown she'd worn yesterday. She spied it on a hook next to the bed, where she remembered hanging it when she'd undressed for her bath. A trembling invaded her body. Dear God, had it all really happened? Her meeting with the Indian? Had she really awakened in the night, gone outside, and spoken with a savage?

“Rachel, what's wrong? You look ill all of a sudden.”

She managed to summon up a weak smile for her friend. “I'm all right. I guess I'm just feeling the effects of missing supper.”

Miranda made an exclamation of sympathy. “You'd best get dressed and get something to eat then. You can see your sister later.”

“Yes,” Rachel replied gratefully. “That's a wonderful idea. Have you eaten?”

Miranda nodded. “Best biscuits I'd ever tasted. Mrs. Treehorn is a great cook.”

Perhaps she'd be better able to face the day if she had something substantial to eat. “Would you tell her I'll be down in a few minutes for breakfast?”

“Breakfast! It's time for the midday meal!”

Rachel gasped. She had slept the entire morning away. What on earth was the matter with her?

 

 

“Amelia.”

The young woman, who had opened her door a few seconds ago, looked stunned. “Rachel! My goodness, is that you?” She shook her head as if to clear it. “It can't be you.” She peered at her sister more closely.
“It is you!”

Rachel grinned, then leaned forward to hug her sister.

“I don't believe it!” Amelia gasped. “When did you come? How did you get here? Who did you come with?”

Rachel moved aside, and Miranda stepped into view.

“Miranda?” Amelia blinked.

“Hello, Amelia. You're looking well.”

“I can't believe this!” Amelia cried.

“Can't believe what?” a deep male voice said from inside the cabin.

Rachel tensed as a man joined Amelia at the open door. “What's this?” he asked pleasantly.

“Oh, Daniel,” Amelia gushed. “You're never going to believe this, but my sister is here! My sister Rachel and her friend.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Your sister?” He studied first Miranda, then Rachel, before his gaze went to Miranda. “You must be Rachel,” he said to Rachel's friend.

Miranda blushed under the man's smile. “I'm afraid not. I'm her friend, and I'm pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand. “Miranda Clark. You must be Daniel Trahern.”

Amelia's husband took it and gallantly bent down to kiss her knuckles. “I'm pleased to meet you.” He was an attractive man with blond hair and a great deal of brawn. His shoulders were broad and powerful. His chest filled out and stretched the linen of his blue shirt. The arms below his rolled-up shirtsleeves were muscular and bronzed with fine blond hairs grazing the skin. He wasn't the man Rachel had imagined. He was too good-looking, too well-mannered, to fit the picture of a wilderness blacksmith.

Daniel turned then to greet his wife's sister. “Rachel?” he asked. He narrowed his gaze.

Rachel felt the sudden frost in the air between them. “That's right,” she said. She didn't offer her hand, and he didn't offer her a smile. “So you're Daniel.” She was about to say more when her sister's voice drew her attention.

“I can't believe it,” Amelia repeated.

Turning her gaze away from the husband, Rachel smiled at her sister. “I'm real,” she said. “Can we come in so we can catch up?”

Amelia appeared flustered as she stepped aside. “Of course! Come in, come in!” With her husband looking on with indulgence, she waved the two young women in.

The interior of the cabin was a little dark, but it was cozy and comfortable, and Rachel could see her sister's attempts to brighten the inside. A large vase of wildflowers sat on the dining table on top of a crocheted table runner that Rachel recognized as Aunt Bess's work.

On the fireplace mantel was a piece of blown glass; it had belonged to Rachel and Amelia's mother, one of several pieces that had been divided equally and given to the two girls. To the right, there was a door to another room. Toward the rear of the great room, three doors led to what Rachel assumed were bedchambers. It was a big house for the married couple. Perhaps they'd built it to raise a large family?

“You have a lovely home,” Rachel said.

“Surprised?” Daniel asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Amelia didn't seem to notice the mockery in her husband's tone. “We love it here,” she said. “There's plenty of room for a growing family.” She turned to smile at her husband.

The obvious affection between the two was painful to Rachel. “It's good to see you,” Rachel said. Amelia gestured toward the sofa. The three women sat down.

“It's so wonderful to see you, too!” Amelia exclaimed. “And you, Miranda.”

Miranda smiled. “Rachel has been anxious to get here. I'm afraid we didn't leave under best circumstances, I'm afraid—”

“Is Aunt Bess all right?” Amelia asked with concern.

“She's fine,” Rachel assured her.

“Did you get Rachel's letter?” Miranda said, and Rachel flashed her a grateful glance.

“No, I didn't.” Amelia frowned as her gaze went to her sister. “You sent a letter?”

“Some months ago,” Rachel admitted.

“Then you don't know about the wedding,” Miranda said.

Amelia blinked. “Did Aunt Bess finally decide to marry?”

“No, she hasn't,” Miranda said. “Rachel wrote to inform you that she was betrothed.”

“You did!” Amelia exclaimed. “Why, that's wonderful!” She reached across the table to grab her sister's hands. “You must be married then. Where is he? Where is your husband?”