Into the Wilderness (119 page)

"Of
course. I will not go anywhere alone. Not until—" She thought of Billy
Kirby, and saw by the new flash of anger in his eyes that Nathaniel's thoughts
had taken him in the same direction. "Not until you tell me it is safe to
do so."

Another
hesitation, and he looked off to the horizon where the dawn was showing in its
first pale streaks. "I can't stay, Boots."

"Go
on ahead home, then," she said. "Be there when Hannah wakes."

"You
don't understand."

"I
understand," she corrected him. "You'd rather face an army than woman
in childbirth."

He
glanced up in surprise. "Did Falling—Day say something to you?"

"No."
Elizabeth smoothed a hand over his cheek. "She said nothing at all. But I
know that you've been through this before, and that the outcome has never been
easy or completely joyful. So I am not surprised that you don't want to be
here."

"You're
too smart by half," he said, wearily. "Maybe there's some flaw in
your logic, Boots, but I'm too tired to see it."

"I
must stay, if she wants me. Will you go now, and let me do what I must do?"

He
pulled her face to his and kissed her, briefly. "All right, then. But I
don't like it much."

Neither do I
, Elizabeth
whispered to herself as she went back into the cabin alone.
Neither do I
.

A
cold rain began at dawn, beating down on Paradise without pause. While Kitty
labored, the wind trembled and whispered in the eaves with a voice so human
that gooseflesh rose on Elizabeth's nape; at times only the greatest feat of
self—discipline kept her hands from shaking as she wiped Kitty's brow. She said
very little through the long hours, content to let Curiosity's easy good humor
carry the burden. When her thoughts drifted toward her brother, she reined them
in sharply. There would be time for such things later, she told herself firmly,
trying very hard not to let his face take Kitty's place on the pillow.

Through
the morning people came and went with covered dishes, special teas, offers of
help. Bleary—eyed and unshaven, Mr. Witherspoon showed up at the door to be
comforted by Curiosity and sent home to his bed. At midday when it seemed that
it would be a good while before the child could be coaxed into the world,
Curiosity sent Elizabeth to rest. She obeyed without protest. Curling into
Jemima's narrow bed next to the hearth in the other room, she fell into a sleep
so bottomless that when she did wake she had no sense of where she might be, or
why, or even what woke her.

Gradually
her mind presented her with simple facts which were, at first, impossible to
fit into a rational whole. Her brother was dead; her school was gone. There was
a heaviness to these truths that was almost tangible, the weight of sorrow
still to be explored. Just as
Elizabeth
realized that what she was hearing was not a storm, but the cry of a newborn,
Daisy came through the room, buttoning her cloak.

"Going
to fetch the judge and Mr. Witherspoon," she said, pulling up her hood.

Elizabeth
held
out both palms in a gesture which pleaded for good news.

"Kitty
held up fine."

"The
child?"

"Alive,
right now, breathing better than Mama thought he would."

"Thank
God,"
Elizabeth
murmured.

"Amen,"
said Daisy, and she closed the door softly behind her.

Elizabeth
went into the other room to be introduced to her nephew. Cradled in the crook
of Kitty's arm, he looked like an undersized and ill—proportioned doll.

"Meet
young Master Middleton," Curiosity said, wiping her neck with linen
square. Cocky as a banty rooster, but a sight smaller."

Kitty
looked up wearily. With some obvious effort, she focused on
Elizabeth
.

"I
did it," she said. "I didn't think I could, but I did."

"Yes,"
Elizabeth agreed, not trusting herself to say much more. From Martha she
accepted a cup of tea, but she could not take her eyes away from the child. Her
brother's son.

Kitty
touched the baby's cheek with one tentative finger. "Will he live?"

Curiosity
drew in a deep breath.
 
"If he's
kept warm—there's precious little fat on him—and fed regular, and if God is
kind, why then, yes, I'd say he's got a chance," she said slowly. "But
it'll be a struggle, and not all of it is in your hands."

The
child mewled, his tiny fists working into his cheeks.

A
knock at the door, and both Curiosity and Elizabeth turned to see
Runs-from-Bears come in and close the door behind him against the storm. He was
drenched with rain and mud—streaked; over his arm was Elizabeth's cloak of
boiled wool, and he carried her walking boots. With some surprise she looked
down and realized that she was barefoot, and had been since she left
Lake
in the Clouds the night before.

He
greeted Curiosity with a nod, and then turned his attention to
Elizabeth
.

"Nathaniel
sends word." He spoke Kahnyen’keháka. "You must come, now."

The
smile on her face faded. "More trouble?"

"All
of our people are whole," he said. "But come, there is no time to
waste."

Elizabeth
knew
that no amount of questioning would get information from Bears that he was not
ready to give, and so she did not try to talk to him on the way up the
mountain. He had come on horseback, which made it clear how urgent this errand
was; Runs-from-Bears disliked horses and would walk almost anywhere. He helped
her up behind him and took off, and
Elizabeth
was immediately glad of his solid form in front of her, for he took the brunt
of the cold, wet wind. As they crossed the strawberry fields the cloud cover
broke up to reveal a quarter moon, a smudge of light in brooding dark sky.

Nathaniel
was waiting for them on the porch of his father's cabin, and she walked into
his arms. He held her for a moment, but he could not hide his distraction and
tension.

"Kitty?
The child?"

"Both
alive, but the boy is very small," she said. "Curiosity seems to
think he may live. Have you got somebody in there?"
Elizabeth
asked, peering around him.

He
rubbed his eyes. "Aye," he said. "Liam, in a sorry state."

Nathaniel
caught her by the shoulders, shaking his head.

"No,
Boots. He ain't dying."

"Did
he—was he—" She could barely collect her thoughts.

"He
says he'll only talk to you." Nathaniel's fingers pressed into her
shoulders. "Elizabeth. Listen now, because we don't have much time. Bears
found the boy beat up and unconscious on the north face of the mountain. He had
McGarrity and O'Brien with him at the time."

The
north face of the mountain. Wild and steep and dangerous;
Elizabeth
had only seen it from above. The
north face of Hidden Wolf, where the entrance to the silver mine was.

"Half
the village is up there now, looking for Billy."

She
squared her shoulders. "I'll talk to him," she said. "And see
what he knows. Is Hannah in there, too?"

"She
was, but Falling—Day sent her off to bed. Though I doubt she's asleep."

"Just
as well," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "I may have need of her
help."

The
first thing she noticed was Hannah, peering down from the sleeping loft. And
then Liam, on the cot where Chingachgook had died. Many-Doves looked up at her
and blinked a greeting.

She
had wondered, through the first long hours of Kitty's labor, why she was not
angrier. Her brother had died needlessly; her stepdaughter had barely escaped
with her life. The schoolhouse and all the books and materials collected over
such a long time, the children's work, all of it gone. But she had not been
able to find any anger in herself. When the thought of Billy Kirby had come to
her, it was as though he were a stranger, someone she had seen once long ago.
She could not even remember the sound of his voice, or his face.

Looking
at Liam, so like his brother,
Elizabeth
felt a small flame of anger flicker and begin to burn in the hollow place
beneath her ribs.

Falling—Day
had splinted Liam's left leg below the knee, and bound his wrist. Between
crisscrossed bandages his chest was bruised into a dark rainbow. But his face
was the worst: a lumpy mass of spongy flesh, his lower lip mangled.
Elizabeth
touched his
shoulder, and he jerked.

"Liam,"
she said softly. "Who did this to you?"

He
tried to turn his face toward her, but caught himself with a strangled cry.

"Don't,
please. I'm right here. Who did this to you?"

To
see him weep was almost more than she could bear, but
Elizabeth
steeled herself. Taking her
handkerchief she touched it gently to his tender face. Nathaniel was watching
from the other side of the room, his arms crossed on his chest and his chin
down low.

Liam's
sobbing ebbed, slowly.

"Did
men from the village beat you?"

He
shook his head slightly.

"Was
it your brother?"

A
nod, barely perceptible. When she repeated her question, he nodded again, more
firmly.

"Liam,
we have to find him."

The
boy let out a small cry, and
Elizabeth
touched his shoulder.

"I
promise you to do everything in my power to make sure he has a fair trial. But
Liam, we have to find him before the villagers do, or there's no telling what
might happen."

She
wondered for a moment if he had fallen asleep. Then his voice came, stronger
than she had expected.

"You
won't hang him?"

Elizabeth
glanced at Nathaniel. He nodded.

"None
of us here would hang him. We will do what we can to see that he comes to
trial."

"He's
my only kin in the world," Liam said. "I got no place to go."

"You
can stay with us," Hannah said from the shadows. She had come up in her
bare feet, and Elizabeth had not heard her. "Can't he? He can stay with
us."

Liam's
right hand rose to wave uncertainly in the air.
Elizabeth
caught it.

"I
tried to stop him," he whispered. His lower lip had begun to bleed again,
and she touched her handkerchief to it, but he shook his head in irritation.

"Miz
Elizabeth, I didn't know Hannah was in there."

"Of
course you didn't,"
Elizabeth
said firmly.

"But
Billy didn't know, either. I'm sure he didn't know. He didn't know." And
the tears began again in earnest.

Hannah
was staring at her father, her chin thrust out belligerently. "Can't he
stay with us?"

"Yes,"
Nathaniel said. "We'll make room for him. But right now we need Billy, and
fast."

At
the sound of Nathaniel's voice, Liam had stopped weeping. He took some long,
shaky breaths and then he let
Elizabeth
's
hand go.

"He's
hiding in a cave on the north face," he said. "Above the deadfall. You
know where I mean?"

"I
do," Nathaniel said, reaching for his rifle. He glanced at
Runs-from-Bears, who was lacing up dry moccasins.

"We'll
be back as soon as we can, Boots."

From
the doorway to the workroom, Falling—Day said in Kahnyen’keháka: "Bring
him back here and I will gut him myself." There was an edge in her voice
that
Elizabeth
had never heard before. Her eyes were on Hannah.

"We'll
take him someplace safe until tempers ease up a little," Nathaniel said to
Elizabeth
.

"There
ain't no place safe left in the world," Liam said. In the candlelight his
eyes were glazed, a watery blue. "Not for Billy, not anymore."

* * *

Nathaniel
and Runs-from-Bears were just crossing into the forest when Elizabeth called
out behind them. She was running, her shawl flapping in the wind. Nathaniel
caught her up and smoothed the loose curls from around her face while she
fought for her voice. "Nathaniel," she gasped.

"It's
Sunday. I just realized. You were supposed to leave for
Albany
this morning."

He
had been fixed on the idea of Billy, all his energy and anger of the past day
pushing him forward, and he could not make sense of what she was trying to tell
him. Nathaniel saw
Elizabeth
's
frustration, and he forced himself to breathe in and out, and think it through.