Into the Wilderness (89 page)

It
was cool and pleasant on the beach. The dog made a halfhearted charge at a
group of gulls who squawked and lumbered off like cranky old men. Since she had
been traveling with them the red dog had become less of a hunter, and she
seemed only slightly mystified at her lack of success. With a philosophical
woof to the gulls, Treenie galloped off down the shoreline after Robbie, who
was gathering driftwood for a cook fire.

"Oh,
the summertime is comin'," he sang softly as he went about his work. "And
the trees are softly bloomin'." His voice faded as he disappeared around
the curve of the little cove. Out on the water, Nathaniel sat in the canoe with
his gaze fixed below the surface and a fishing spear balanced lightly in one
hand.

Treenie
came back along the beach, her wet coat clogged with sand, and lay down.
Elizabeth
joined her,
content to sit for a while looking out at the lake to watch Nathaniel fish. The
setting was beautiful, but she was so sleepy. Sometimes it seemed that she
would never again be fully awake. With a little sigh of irritation, she roused
herself finally and climbed the bluff to camp, where she left the mussels by
the cook pot for Robbie to deal with. Then she took her rolled blanket from her
pack and joined Treenie in the flickering silver shadows of the birch and
hickory trees, where she made a quick tent and collapsed into jagged half
dreams.

* * *

It
was a cool and clear evening that provided a sunset over the mountains in a
thousand layers of color, the kind of sunset that never failed to lift her
spirits. The evenings were
Elizabeth
's
best time, and the nap had done her much good, although her appetite was not
quite restored. There was bass grilling over a latticework of black willow
splints, and a stew of mussels, dried beans, and wild onions, which she ate
with forced enthusiasm. She had a secret longing for Curiosity's best Sunday
biscuits of wheaten flour, even as she crumbled the good Kahnyen’keháka
corncake into her bowl.

They
were sitting on an up cropping of rock. Nathaniel was next to her, his empty
bowl balanced on the long, flat plane of his thigh. From the corner of his eye,
he was watching her eat while he threw bits of fish to Treenie. Robbie was on
his third bowl of stew, and showed no signs of slowing down.

"Splitting—Moon
told me that it was natural, you not being hungry," Nathaniel offered. "The
child takes what it needs, one way or the other, so you might as well give in,
gracious like. Ain't like you got much choice, either way."

"Despotic
leanings already."
Elizabeth
smiled. "An ominous beginning."

There
was something he wanted to say; she could see it on his face, along with the
reluctance. She raised an eyebrow in encouragement.

"Sarah
never was sick, with either of her times," he said. "It worried my
mother. She said that a child setting properly will make itself known. If that
makes it any easier."

Elizabeth
glanced up at him. In her misery it had never occurred to her that the nausea
might be a good sign. And she hadn't thought about—hadn't wanted to think
about—the fact that Nathaniel had been through this before, and was better
acquainted with the process than she was. He knew enough to be worried about
her, and to comfort her, too. She felt selfish, suddenly, and very
self—centered.

He
almost laughed. "You should see your face," he said. "Only you
would manage to feel guilty because you don't like being sick." He hugged
her one—armed, while he tossed more wood on the fire. "It'll pass, Boots,
and you'll be able to get back to teaching. That's something to look forward
to, at least."

"There
is quite a lot to look forward to at Hidden Wolf,"
Elizabeth
agreed. There were things to worry
about, too. How it would be to share a small cabin with four other adults was
something that kept her awake at night, knowing that there was nothing to be
done about it and also that the lack of privacy would be the biggest challenge
she would face. As she didn't know how to raise this question with Nathaniel
without sounding demanding and dissatisfied, she quickly sent her thoughts in
another direction.

"It
would be nice to know that I'll have any students to teach. And there is always
the possibility that my father has reclaimed the schoolhouse to use as a
pigsty."

Robbie
looked up from his stew, the white crescents of his brows knitted together in
surprise. "But Nathaniel's bought the ian' and the schoolhoose, too, fra'
yer fait her so ye ne edna fash yersel'. His voice trailed off as he saw the
exasperated look Nathaniel sent his way, and he threw up one shoulder as if to
ward off a blow.

"Laddie,
ye'll hae tae for gi me. I disremembered that she didna ken."

"Pardon
me?"
Elizabeth
asked, looking between the two of them. "You bought the schoolhouse?"

"Yes,
and the land," Nathaniel said. "From your father's agent while I was
in
Albany
. I
meant it for a surprise, on homecoming."

"Yes,
I see that," she murmured.

Robbie
looked warily between them and then suddenly stood. "I've mind tae take a
wee walk doon the shore. It's time I had a wash, for I fear I stink sac bad as
a new recruit's shirttail after his first battle. Will ye join me, Treenie?"

The
dog was immediately at his side, her tail generating a significant breeze.

Nathaniel
began to rise, but
Elizabeth
put a hand on his forearm.

"Oh,
no," she said. "I think not. You and I have things to discuss.
Treenie is good company, and she's more Robbie's dog than mine now,
anyway."

The
old soldier glanced at her, his head cocked to one side. "Do ye mean it?
She is verra fond o' ye, lass."

"I
will miss her,"
Elizabeth
said. "But yes, I mean it."

"Weel,
then, come along wi' ye," Robbie said softly to the red dog. "If ye
are tae bide wi' me, it's time I taucht ye some manners."

"That
was kind of you," Nathaniel said when Robbie had disappeared toward the
lake. "He seems lonely, these days."

"Nathaniel
Bonner,"
Elizabeth
said, turning to her husband and fixing him firmly with her most concentrated
schoolmistress gaze. "If you think you can distract me from the topic at
hand with a few weak compliments, you are sorely mistaken."

"For
a woman in misery you're sounding mighty sure of yourself." he said dryly,
trying to produce a scowl but not quite succeeding.

"Oh,
very clever,"
Elizabeth
noted, matching his tone. "But making light of my discomfort—for which you
are responsible, I might point out—is a tactic which will not divert me,
Nathaniel."

A
hand passed over her back; he smiled and bent toward her mouth. "I was
hoping you wouldn't notice."

"And
if insulting my powers of observation does not serve," she said, tilting
her head so that his mouth caught the crest of her cheek instead of its real
target, "then you will try seduction."

He
laughed out loud, his eyes flashing irritation and pleasure in equal parts. "It's
good to see you feeling better," he said. "Even if you are set on
sharpening that tongue of yours on my hide."

"I
am not easily diverted, that is true. Would you have me more malleable?"
It was a challenge, edged with worry.

He
shook his head. "I wouldn't change you, Boots, if I could. Aggravating as
you are at times."

"More
flattery," she said. "Do stop, or I shall swoon."

Nathaniel
sighed, apparently resigned to his fate. "So ask if you're set on it, and
I'll answer if I can."

Elizabeth
thought for a moment, and then she put it to him as carefully as she could:
"How is it that you went off to
Albany
with not quite enough money to pay both Richard and the taxes, and managed not
only to do that, but also to buy a plot of land with a new building on it? If
there is a price on your head for robbery, I should like to know about
it."

There
was an edge of irritation in the way he ran his hand through his hair. "Maybe
I'm just good at dealing."

"Perhaps,"
Elizabeth
conceded, trying to keep her tone even. "But even so, money cannot be
created out of thin air. How did you make aunt Merriweather's note stretch so
far?"

"It
was easy," he said. His face had gone very watchful and still. "I
didn't use your aunt's money at all. That's all safe in the bank."

It
was not often that
Elizabeth
found herself speechless, but she could not think of a thing to say to her
husband, whose eyes never moved from her face. Nathaniel reached into the neck
of her dress to pull out the long silver chain. Along with it came his mother's
pearl cluster, Joe's bijou, the panther tooth, and finally the gold coin,
warmed by her skin. This he tapped softly.

"The
Tory Gold?"
Elizabeth
asked, numbly. "You have the Tory Gold?"

"Not
all of it," Nathaniel said, sitting back, suddenly tense and very wary.

She
stood abruptly and pointed at him, her finger trembling slightly. "
You
didn't have a dollar to wager at the
turkey shoot!"

Nathaniel
peered up at her, one eye narrowed. "Couldn't exactly toss a five—quid
gold piece at Billy Kirby and ask for change. Not without giving the game
away."

"The
game
?" Her voice wobbled. "The
game? What game is it that you mean? The one when you convinced me that marriage
was the only way to secure Hidden Wolf away from Richard? That game?"

Nathaniel
stood, and put his hands on her shoulders. "I never said that," he
said softly. "If you'll think back."

She
pulled away. "Did or did you not have a chest full of gold at your
disposal at the very time you were telling me that you could not match Richard
Todd's bid on Hidden Wolf?"

"Chingachgook
gave us leave to spend as much of the gold as we needed, back in December, but
we couldn't," Nathaniel said.

"Not
without drawing the government of the state of New—York and the British army
down on our heads. Not to mention—”

“Jack
Lingo,"
Elizabeth
supplied.

Nathaniel
grimaced. "Aye. Jack Lingo."

"This
whole journey was for naught," she said dully.

"No!"
He reached out toward her but she stepped away. "
Elizabeth
. Even if we could have handed the
gold over for the land without half the world coming down on us, it wouldn't
have done any good. You know that. Your father was set against selling it to us
from the start, because it was the only way he had of keeping Richard Todd in
line—by marrying you off to him, for the mountain.

"Yes,"
she hissed. "But none of that would have come as a surprise. You might
have told me the truth. You might have trusted me."

"
Elizabeth
. I trust you
with my life. I would have told you before we got back to
Paradise
."
Nathaniel paused, his face clouding. "I didn't tell you back to start
with, because—”

“Yes?"
She waited in a kind of void, terrified of what he might say, but needing the
truth anyway.

"Because
I was afraid of losing you, if there was another way to get the mountain. I
couldn't see a way out, but I figured you might."

The
words hung there between them, over the shimmering heat of the fire.
Elizabeth
watched them
floating for three beats of her heart. There was a ticking sound in her throat.

"It
was the pretense of my aunt's money that allowed you to use your own?" She
wondered at how calm she sounded.

He
nodded.

"But
why did you not simply use my aunt's funds?" she asked. "It was there
for the specific purpose of buying me out of my father's troubles. Why not
leave your own resources for another time?"

The
muscles in his throat were working, and the look in his eyes made her heart
ache. He had not used aunt Merriweather's money because the drive to own the
mountain was stronger than anything else. He had got her, and the mountain and
the schoolhouse, on his own terms.

Elizabeth
looked away to try to sort out her thoughts, struggling desperately for some
balance, but finding none.

"So
in fact, you did buy Hidden Wolf without my help." She heard the tone of
her voice rising, but she could not stop it. "And so I deceived my father
out of his land to offer it to you—of my own free will—but you preferred to
take it away from me instead. To suit your pride and to spite Richard."

They
stood almost nose to nose, each of them breathing audibly.