Black Eagle (17 page)

“No, ma'am. Mr. Wilton was my grandpappy. My name's Stiler. Matt Stiler.”

“Well, hello, Mr. Stiler. I am Marisa Jameson, and this is my companion and friend, Sarah Strong. We are en route to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, to visit the Appletons, who own property there and who are good friends of my family.”

“The Appletons, eh?” Mr. Stiler rubbed his stubbled chin. “Don't think I know of 'em, Miss Jameson, but don't make no difference. You and your maid are welcome to stay here for the night. No charge. Tain't often we have a lady such as yourself stay with us.” Stiler paced toward Sarah's mount, whereupon he helped Sarah down from her seating.

“I wouldn't hear of imposing on your hospitality without paying sufficient coin,” Marisa said, opening her purse and offering the man two gold coins. “Both Sarah and I understand the inconvenience of guests, though I can assure you that we appreciate your offer.”

“Thank you, miss.” Stiler pocketed the coins. “Now if you'll both come this way, I'll introduce you to my missus.”

Marisa nodded, and taking hold of Sarah's arm, they followed the innkeeper, leaving Black Eagle to await Thompson.

 

 

Thompson was drunk. No doubt, that was his slurred voice, along with a few others, that was raised in singing a ditty or two, with one song following right after the other. But the good Lord be praised, Thompson was at least keeping himself holed up inside the tavern and hadn't ventured out into the back, where both Marisa and Sarah were seated.

At present, both the young women were surrounded by log stools and carved tables, which were scattered out back of the tavern. About ten feet away ran a shallow, quick-rushing stream, its splashing against the rocks and the shoreline a welcome backdrop to the rustling of the wind through the trees. Crickets and other nightly creatures were beginning their serenade, while within her line of vision Marisa could discern the figure of Black Eagle, who stood sentry off in the distance.

He was leaning on his musket, and though Marisa was still feeling less than kindly toward him, there was one aspect about the man that she could not deny: He cut a handsome figure. Though she could barely make out the blue of his tunic, the remembrance of how the style of his leggings allowed for a clear view of masculine thigh and buttocks remained etched upon her mind.

Evening was falling over the land, the last rays of the sun coloring the golds, reds and oranges of the leaves with the pinks and corals of sunset. Even the brown bark of the trees, and the dry grass mirrored the sky, allowing a pinkish glow to settle over the landscape. It was an extraordinary sight.

Above her, the clouds were set afire with the same fiery color, while closer to hand, their crude-cut tables and stools mirrored the evening sky. There were trees everywhere, pine, oak, elm, maple and white birch; they surrounded this place, and they sheltered and hid the two women. The scent of smoke, of barbecued venison and of stewing meat permeated the air, and combined with the fragrance of the last vestiges of fall, it induced a feeling of well-being within Marisa.

Odd that such a feeling should come over her in this rough and untamed place. Yet she couldn't deny that something here moved her; it was as though she were awakening from a slumber of mind and soul, as though something within her were being coaxed to life.

She inhaled deeply, recognizing the scent of pine mixed within the other fragrances pervading the air.

“Are you tired? ” asked Sarah.

“No,” answered Marisa, as she gave Sarah a critical look. Sarah's color was good, however, Marisa feared that only time would heal the cut to her lip, as well as the gash that extended from her eye to her nose. “Are you? ”

“Yes. I'm afraid I am very tired,” said Sarah. “Indeed, I am looking forward to that bed in the inn. In fact, I think I might enjoy it all the more since it may be the last true bed that we'll be seeing for many a night.”

“I believe you are right. Are you thinking of retiring, then? ”

Sarah yawned. “The thought has crossed my mind.” She smiled. “What of you? Are you ready to go to bed? ”

“Not yet I think. But please, don't stand on ceremony. I beg you to seek your bed and rest. It has been an unusual as well as a long day.”

“But are you not tired? You have had little to no sleep.”

“No, perhaps I should be tired, but I am not. For the moment, my mind is racing and I fear that I would find little sleep if I sought my bed so soon.”

Sarah nodded, although she could barely stifle another yawn. She said, “Perhaps it is the food that makes me so sleepy. It was delicious.”

“Yes, it was.” Marisa's glance at Sarah was again studious. “Should I take you to the inn and tuck you in? ”

Sarah grinned. “No, but the idea has some merit. Still, I'm not accustomed to going to bed before you do.”

“That very well may be, yet I see no harm, and a great deal of good, in your retiring now. Sarah, I think you need the rest.”

“No, I'll be fine.”

“Are you afraid I'll be assaulted if you leave? ”

“The thought has occurred to me. We are, after all, surrounded by men, many of whom appear to be intoxicated.”

“True, but if the men in the tavern get too rowdy, I can appeal to Sir Eagle, who seems to be standing guard over there.” Marisa nodded toward him.

“Mayhap that is the reason I should stay.” There was a twinkle in Sarah's eye.

“I wouldn't hear of it, Sarah. I'll be fine.”

Sarah leaned forward to place her arms on the table. “Marisa, tell me. Do you think you are in love with him? ”

“Who? ”

“Sir Eagle.”

Marisa could feel a muscle twitch briefly in her cheek; she also took her time in answering. But at last, she said, “Were there no one else to worry about—no one to scold me or reprimand me, I might be inclined to consider that question more deeply, since I do find the man fascinating. But as it is impossible to live in a world where there are no other people, I would have to say that I am wise enough not to fall in love with him.”

“And if people's attitudes were different? ”

“But that is an impossible question: Their attitude is not different. 'Tis bad enough that the one time I decide to rebel, I am unable to hide the occurrence from one and all. 'Twas my fault, I admit, but . . .”

“Ah, I see. When taken as a whole, it would be easier had no one known? ”

“Indeed. But I had little time to consider such matters at the time. As you might recall, it all happened quickly. Looking back on it now, I can hardly credit what came over me. There I was at the dance, glancing over to see my guardian's disapproval of me, and the look on his face, and all simply because I was talking to someone he believed was beneath me.”

“ 'Tis too bad that one man feels superior to another simply because of differences in culture.”

“It angered me, because it was done despite the fact that the young man has done nothing but flatter me and make me smile.”

Sarah shook her head.

“But there was more. For whatever reason, while there at the ball, I had recalled that time long ago, when my step-uncle had called me to his study and had made his plans for my future well known to me. I had forgotten.”

“So had I,” said Sarah.

“And then there was James. I swear that man has no leave to think badly of me, yet he, too, scowled at me for simply associating with someone that he considered beneath me, and he made a move toward me, as if to stop me. Had I not done what I did . . .”

“You would have been made over into a slave to your step-uncle's whims,” said Sarah. “I see it now. If you were to be true to yourself, you literally had no choice but to rebel against your step-uncle.”

Marisa frowned, but said nothing.

“And so here you are,” continued Sarah, “on a journey with a man upon whom you conferred your favor, thinking to never have the pleasure of his company again.”

“Yes. And I fear that each time I see him, I am not only reminded of my folly, but I fear I recall again the satisfaction of his embrace. And Sarah, I cannot do it again. Not ever. You do understand that, don't you? ”

Sarah frowned.

“ 'Tis one thing to do it once in an act of rebellion.” Marisa continued, “To then try to put your fall from grace behind you, and to settle down and endeavor to become respectable. It is quite another to continually commit the act that should be confined to only those who are married, or to those who make their living by it.”

“And of course you can never marry him, thus to continue the affair would put you in the class of the latter.”

“Exactly.” Marisa paused. Then wistfully, she murmured, “He most definitely should have told me who he was.”

Sarah sat silently for some time, then clearing her throat, she said, “Did you and he talk of what might happen if there were to be a child? ”

“No,” Marisa answered at once. “But I should have thought of it. It was sheer madness on my part. A pleasant madness, I confess. But madness, nonetheless.”

Sarah looked hesitant, but after a time, she said, “Well, since this is to be your only induction into a real romance, I should hope that he showered you with love.”

Marisa smiled. “He did.”

“And did you return it? ”

“At the time, I think I did.”

“You could simply refuse to return to Albany,” suggested Sarah. “Once we are in New Hampshire, you could find a new life for yourself there.”

“You know that is not an option for me. Whatever else my step-uncle might be, he also ensured my upbringing, and for that I owe him at least my loyalty.”

Sarah sighed. “Was Sir Eagle's loving enough, do you think, for the memory to last you a lifetime? I ask because you do realize that if you return to Albany, your step-uncle will marry you off to someone else, and certainly to someone of fortune, be the man old and decrepit or young and ugly.”

“Yes, I understand,” Marisa said, “but have you considered that the man he chooses might be young and handsome? ”

“Do you really think so? With your step-uncle doing the selecting? ”

Marisa stirred uneasily. “How right you are. And yet I cannot do anything other than give my step-uncle my loyalty. I do owe him that.”

“Do you? ”

“You know that I do.”

“Yes, I suppose I can understand why you would think so. And yet, I can hardly keep from observing that if a man does not have your best interest at heart, do you truly owe him your allegiance? If a man raised you, yet wished to kill you, would you let him do so? ”

“I hardly think he wishes to kill me.”

“No,” said Sarah, “of course he doesn't. However, the point still remains.”

“And it is a point I cannot consider. John Rathburn may be all kinds of vile things. But he took me in and raised me. And I would hardly be worthy of being human if I didn't wish to contribute back to him, would I? ”

Sarah touched Marisa's hand. “You are one of the sweetest people I have ever known. Perhaps too good for the likes of John Rathburn.”

“If I am so, then it is your making,” observed Marisa. She sighed and, extracting her hand from beneath Sarah's, she placed her hands in her lap.

Sarah said, “ 'Tis too bad that cultures are what they are. Your Sir Eagle is a fine figure of a man, and very devoted to you, I think.”

“Yes, and I will take the memory of our night to the grave. But I am who I am.”

Sarah nodded. “Do you think he will understand? ”

“He will have to.”

“Perhaps,” said Sarah, “he has a different idea about that than you do.”

“Yes,” agreed Marisa, “I think he might. Sarah”—Marisa reached out to take Sarah's hand in her own—“you will do your best to shelter me from him, won't you? ”

“Of course I will, but I understand now why you did what you did. After all, a little bit of John Rathburn goes a long way. He has kept a stern and unemotional eye on you, ensuring that you have had little contact with anyone else, except of course for me. And this is especially so with regards to the opposite sex. I believe he has overprotected you, and it seems to me that he has done his best to mold you into the image of what he believes you should be, little knowing that sooner or later, you would become your own person.”

“Yes.”

“He also withheld love from you. And this, when love is so very important.”

Marisa nodded, not understanding why there was a knot in her throat.

“I fear that the Iroquois Indians are right in one regard.”

“Oh? ” said Marisa. “And what is that? ”

“A person should be sovereign,” said Sarah. “Perhaps because God in Heaven created human beings in his own image, a person, then, was made to rule his own life.”

Marisa frowned. “Is that what the Indians believe? ”

“Yes, I do believe they do,” said Sarah. “Though I know little of them, of course. But as a governess, I have studied them a little, and I am aware that they have a form of government that owes its allegiance not to itself, but to the people.”

“Truly? ”

“Yes. 'Tis a far cry from England, I must say, where the people are expected to support and give allegiance to the king regardless of what he does, right or wrong.”

“Are the Indians a little like the Greeks, then?” asked Marisa. “Have they managed to carve out a republic here in the wilderness? ”

Sarah shook her head. “I truly don't know. All I am aware of is that, in their view of it, no one can own another person. And I should say that the more I hear of it, the more I agree. Men and women were meant to run their own lives, not allow a monarch or anyone else, who little knows them personally, to make decisions for them.”