Into the Wilderness (37 page)

"Daughter,"
Mr. Witherspoon admonished softly, but Kitty turned her face away from him.

"Todd
had the right idea, didn't he?" said Julian. "There must be something
worth doing in Johnstown. Should have gone with him," he said. "I
don't wonder that they've thought up a party of some kind."

Given
the crushed look on Kitty's face, Elizabeth wished that her brother would stop,
but he went on, oblivious, wondering what could be keeping Richard in
Johnstown, and how he, Julian, should have had his share in the fun.

"You'll
have your wish soon enough," the judge said. "We start for Johnstown
next week. Things to look after, you know." He was looking at Elizabeth
thoughtfully.

Elizabeth
did her very best to remain impassive, glad for once that her brother's manners
did not give her the opportunity to speak.

"Next
week? In this weather? Whatever for? Not that I should complain, it will be
good to get out—won't it, Lizzie? Oh," he went on, not giving Elizabeth a
chance to agree or decline. "Lizzie won't want to come away, will she,
there's her school. Responsibilities to see to, and all that. She's not free to
go off at a whim anymore, are you, Lizzie?"

"I
think Elizabeth will come along this time," the judge said with knowing
lift of one brow. "There are business matters to attend to, after all.
Taxes, and so forth."

Elizabeth's
first thought was one of relief it was already nearing the end of the first
week of April, and her father had not mentioned the deed of gift or the
property transfer for months. She had begun to fear he had changed his mind
about this arrangement. Many nights she had lain awake wondering what she would
do if this were the case, how she could get word to Nathaniel, what he would
say. Now it seemed as though he was about to make an announcement, without
Richard present. It was confusing, and it was worrying, and she knew these
things showed on her face. She could feel Kitty Witherspoon watching her
closely, her own mouth folded into a tight line of disapproval and hardly
concealed envy.

"What's
all this about, Father?" asked Julian, relieving Elizabeth of the
necessity of an answer.

There
was a forceful knock at the door, and the judge got up, smiling.

"That
will be Richard," he said. "Let's ask him, why don't we?"

Elizabeth
folded her hands in her lap and forced her face into calm lines. This was what
she had been waiting for, preparing for. She would make it seem as though she
were finally accepting Richard. Suddenly she was glad of Kitty's presence,
which would explain her unwillingness to come directly to a clear answer, or to
show any joy or even enthusiasm. Even the men would understand that. They would
agree on a day to go to Johnstown to sign the deed before Mr. Bennett, as
magistrate. Somehow she would have to get word to Hidden Wolf.

She
was so wound up in these thoughts that she barely took in the way the room had
fallen silent.

Elizabeth
looked up expecting Richard and saw Nathaniel instead. He stood filling the
doorway, his face tight with barely controlled anger. From one hand hung the
carcass of a beaver, its great tail dripping water and blood; with the other
hand he held a silent and terrified Liam Kirby firmly by the neck.

* * *

"Are
we at home for such a purpose on a Saturday?" Julian interrupted while
Nathaniel was laying out the story of finding Liam taking the beaver from his
traps. "I should think this could wait until a more opportune
moment."

The
judge didn't even glance in his son's direction. "It cannot," he said
shortly. "If a resident of Paradise seeks me out in my official capacity,
then I am always at home. Now," he said in his deepest voice. "Carry
on, Nathaniel. And please, Julian, let the man talk."

"There
ain't much more to tell you can't see for yourself." Nathaniel said.
"The boy has been stealing from my traps, pretty much the whole winter.
But this is the first I caught him. I don't usually walk the trap line this
time of day, you see."

Liam
stood in the center of the room, his vision focused on his own boots and the
puddle he was creating on the carpet. Where his ears peeked out from his hair
they were a peculiar bright shade of red. He had not yet spoken, but he twisted
his cap in his hands convulsively.

"What
do you have to say for yourself Liam?" asked the judge.

"I
ain't done nothing," he said in a hoarse whisper.

Elizabeth
stood immobile, looking between them. She saw the bruise rising on Liam's
cheekbone, dark against his pallor, and the fear and anger in his eyes.

"Liam
has always been a good boy," Mr. Witherspoon said in a conciliatory tone.
"Isn't that so, judge?"

Nathaniel
had been angry, but controlled. Now he swung to face the judge, and his
restraint was clearly at its breaking point. "He's been stealing from my
traps, I caught him red—handed. There's laws against stealing, still on the
books, I'm assuming. Either you'll do your duty or you won't. Which is
it?"

The
judge held up a hand in a placating gesture. "This is a first—time
offense, after all—”

“I
tell you, this ain't the first time my traps have been tampered with. And
that's not the least of it." He paused, his stare as harsh as his tone was
quiet. "You know it ain't."

"Are
you talking about the theft you alleged—"

Elizabeth
flinched as she saw Nathaniel's color rise.

"Father,"
she said, cutting them both off. She stood, immobile, knowing that every eye in
the room was focused on her. Liam was looking at her as his salvation; the
judge and Mr. Witherspoon were mystified at her interruption; Julian and Kitty
wore their suspicions openly. Even Nathaniel, whose face she knew as well as
her own, was looking at her with doubt and impatience and something like anger.

"What
is it?" the judge asked. "Did you want to speak for the boy?"

"No,"
said Elizabeth, and then, faltering, "I mean to say, I can't speak for him
or against him." She took in Liam's hurt stare, and decided that she dared
not look at Nathaniel. "However, it would be appropriate to give him the chance
to tell his version of what happened. Liam, will you talk to me about
this?"

The
boy's mouth worked in a terrible grimace; Elizabeth thought he was close to
tears.

"If
you won't defend yourself and the evidence is against you, then there's nothing
I can do for you," she said gently. "If you have been stealing, then
you must face the consequences."

"You're
awful eager to have one of your students punished, Lizzie," added Julian.
"I'm not convinced he's done anything."

"Pardon
me!" interjected the judge with considerable irritation. "But that is
for me to decide!"

"I'm
not eager to have him punished," Elizabeth corrected Julian sharply,
ignoring her father. "But the law must be served, must it not?"

"How
do we know the charges are true?" asked Julian, casting a glance toward
Nathaniel, who stood silently watching the exchange. "He comes here with
fantastic stories."

"Are
you calling me a liar?" asked Nathaniel in a tone as reasonable and
measured as if he were asking for a cup of tea.

"I'm
asking for proof." Julian said, just as calmly.

"There's
proof to be had," Nathaniel said, tossing the beaver onto the rug at
Julian's feet. "If you're interested in what's been took from me and from
mine. If you want to hear about traps fooled with and stores broken into and
folks being shot—come up to Hidden Wolf with me now and ask Otter how he got a
bullet in his leg. If you're interested in the truth."

Elizabeth
was so shocked at the news of Otter that she spoke before she could stop
herself. "Are you accusing Liam of this?" she asked and then
realized, too late, that she sounded as if she were doubting Nathaniel's word.

Nathaniel
blinked slowly. "Not all of it," he answered without turning toward
her. "Not of the shooting."

"Exactly
who are you accusing, then?" asked Julian.

"Right
at this moment I am accusing this boy of stealing a beaver from a line I set up
on the stream we call Little Muddy. I come upon him not an hour ago. Look,
you'll see his hands are still bloody."

"What
exactly do you want me to do with him?" asked the judge when he had
examined Liam's hands. "Sentence him to gaol?"

"That
would be a start," said Nathaniel, leaning now on his rifle with an air
that was half amusement and half irritation.

"No!"
The boy's head snapped up. "Won't you speak for me, Miz Elizabeth! Tell
them I been coming to school every day and working hard. Ain't that so?"

"Surely
not gaol—" Elizabeth began.

"Enough,"
said the judge over the boy's renewed protests. "I find Liam Kirby guilty
of poaching trap lines and fine him five dollars sterling and a week in
custody—"

"Fi'
dollars sterling!" howled Liam. "That pelt ain't worth five
dollars!"

"—but
due to his age and the first—time nature of the crime, I suspend the sentence
and stipulate that the fine can be worked off or paid in trade directly to
Nathaniel Bonner. I hope that will satisfy all parties."

The
judge was immediately drawn into a loud discussion of the law with Liam and
Julian, but Elizabeth's attention was still focused on Nathaniel.
Otter
, Elizabeth thought.
He's worried about Otter. He never would
have let himself go that way otherwise.
She knew she must look away, or let
everyone in this room see those things on her face that they must not yet know
about her. She dropped her gaze.

"There's
just one more thing," Nathaniel said, directing himself to the judge.

Liam
was suddenly quiet, as if he thought Nathaniel might demand something even more
horrendous than a five—dollar fine.

"I
was coming down to tell Miss Middleton that her schoolhouse is finished,"
said Nathaniel, turning to look at her directly for the first time.

"Oh,"
said Elizabeth, and then as an afterthought: "What good news."

"I'm
going into the bush, hunting," he interrupted her. "But you can move
in now without my help. I expect the doctor can lend a hand."

"Yes,
I expect so," replied Elizabeth faintly. "Thank you kindly,
Nathaniel."

"You're
welcome," he said, touching his cap. Retrieving the beaver, he slung it
over his shoulder with a flick of his wrist and left the room without another
word. They heard the door slam behind him.

"Insolent
savage," muttered Julian. "Come on now, Liam old man. Stop sniveling
and tell us what really happened."

* * *

Nathaniel
was angry. He was angry with himself for saying more than he'd meant to, back
there in the judge's parlor. Walking up Hidden Wolf at a pace which would have
left many younger men gasping, he made himself stop, to clear his head and to
listen. His frustration and rage turned him inward, set him apart from the
world around him, just when he needed to have his senses sharp. It wouldn't do
to get shot now, not now, when things were starting to happen. He couldn't
afford his anger right now; he couldn't afford to be thinking of the judge, or
of Julian Middleton with his knowing half smile, or of Liam Kirby, bloody
handed.

With
his head cocked to one side, Nathaniel listened to the sounds of the spring
thaw. He heard other things, too: three or four different birds, a squirrel,
rodents in the soggy mass of winter debris on the forest floor. Far off, the
thud of axe on wood. He touched his weapons: the knife at his side, the hatchet
tucked into his belt along his spine. He checked the powder pan on his rifle
and set out once again, cutting up the worst inclines, through thickets that
seemed impenetrable, walking in the middle of swollen, ice—cold streams.
Whoever it was following him, they were very good. But he was better. He knew
this as a fact.

Once
he had circled the strawberry fields, Nathaniel let himself think again. Now,
this close to Lake in the Clouds, it was safer. He called forth Elizabeth, her
face, the way her hair curled at the nape of her neck, the sound of her voice.
He thought of Elizabeth with Richard, and he pushed himself faster toward home.

Curiosity
had been spending an increasing amount of time with Elizabeth. At first it had
seemed a natural thing that she would find work to do in the sitting room while
Daisy, Polly, and Almanzo had their lessons; they were her children, after all,
regardless of their ages. And Manny's mind was seldom on the work at hand
unless his mother was carding wool in the corner.

Over
time, Elizabeth imagined that Curiosity's interest would wane, but instead it
seemed to become more focused. While Polly read aloud in her low and pleasing
voice, Curiosity's hands would fall to her lap and she would incline her head
in concentration. Perhaps, Elizabeth thought, it was that Curiosity wanted to
be part of the lessons herself. One day she asked her outright, and found to
her surprise that she had amused Curiosity with this invitation: in response,
the older woman picked up the first tract to hand—it happened to be a treatise
on taxation written by Alexander Hamilton—and read a paragraph out loud without
stopping to breathe. Her manner was most unusual: she leaned forward at the
waist and read in a loud voice directly into the page, as if she were arguing
with it. Elizabeth was enchanted. It turned out that Curiosity had read every
book in the judge's library, and had something to say about each of them.