Lake in the Clouds (86 page)

“You come with news, Jed, or you just out for a walk?”

“I got some news,” McGarrity said, blinking up at Nathaniel. “But mostly it’s another matter. It might be best if we sat down with Hawkeye and Runs-from-Bears to have us this talk. So I don’t have to tell the story more than once.”

“A messenger come late yesterday evening from Johnstown,” Jed began when they had gathered around the table. “With word from the circuit judge.”

Of all the things Jed might have come to say, this was the last thing Nathaniel had imagined. The men looked at each other, and then Hawkeye spoke up.

“It ain’t time for O’Brien to come through yet, is it? What does he want, Jed?”

McGarrity was a man with a long face that always looked worried, even when he was smiling. Dour, Nathaniel’s mother would have called him. A true Scot. She would have said it with a wink, good Scotswoman that she was.

“You’re not going to like it much. Seems like the Kuick widows have sworn a complaint against your Hannah, serious enough to bring him here out of rotation. He’ll be arriving today sometime, and he’s looking to hold an inquiry before he goes ahead and charges her.”

Elizabeth gasped softly. She was listening from the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself.

“Charges her with what?” Hawkeye said, calm as ever but with a flash of fire in his eye that nobody at this table could overlook.

“Didn’t say exactly.” Jed studied his hands where he had spread them out on the table. “But I expect it’s got something to do with the robbery at the mill.”

“Being it was Indians that did it,” Runs-from-Bears said to nobody in particular. “I suppose that means we’ll all be hauled up in front of O’Brien. Don’t matter that every one of us was in that trading post while the whole thing happened.”

“Right now it’s just Hannah,” Jed said. “Now don’t take this the wrong way, Bears, but I’ve been meaning to ask—”

“The men who broke into the mill house weren’t Mohawk,” Runs-from-Bears said. “And I can’t tell you what tribe they are from their tracks. It’s a reasonable question, Jed. I ain’t about to take offense.”

McGarrity looked confused, as if he liked the answer Runs-from-Bears had given him, but wasn’t sure it matched the question he asked.

Nathaniel said, “Did O’Brien tell you to take Hannah into custody?”

Jed met his eye, and nodded.

“What’re you planning to do?”

“Why, nothing,” said Jed, leaning back in his chair so far that it creaked. “I figure the messenger got that part of it wrong, is how I’ll tell it. Given we’re all caught up in the canker rash and all, and Hannah’s running from sickbed to sickbed. And if O’Brien don’t like it, why then he can find
hisself another constable. I never wanted the damn job in the first place.”

There was a longer silence, and then Runs-from-Bears said, “What do you think is behind all this, Jed?”

McGarrity pushed his hands through his hair in a rough gesture. “I been asking myself that question all night. To tell the truth, looks to me like this is all Jemima in a temper. The widow let herself be dragged in gladly enough—Lord knows the woman would pick a fight with a polecat—but this is Jemima’s work. I never have understood what she’s got against your Hannah but whatever it is, it finally came to a boil.”

In the sleeping loft the children began to argue in a whisper that could be heard in every corner of the cabin.

Elizabeth called up to them. “Lily. Daniel. Ethan. You must keep silent if you will listen, or I’ll send you to Many-Doves.”

Daniel’s head appeared over the banister, his cheeks bright with color. “Sorry, Ma, but we can’t keep quiet anymore. There’s something we got to tell you about Jemima Southern.”

“Jemima Kuick,” Lily said, standing up next to her brother.

The men looked at each other, and then Nathaniel said, “Come on down here, then, and say what you got to say.”

Ethan hung back with Elizabeth while the twins told the story, standing at attention in front of the gathered men. More than once a sigh escaped Elizabeth. When she met Nathaniel’s gaze he saw the question there he was asking himself: their two youngest had been carrying this burden for weeks, how was it that they hadn’t known something was wrong?

“Now let me get this straight,” Hawkeye said when they had finished, and the twins went very still. “Jemima threatened to go after your sister if you told what you saw at Eagle Rock that day.”

They nodded.

“And did you tell anybody?”

“No,” Lily said, biting her lip. “We never did. I know we should have told about the trespassing—”

Hawkeye held up a hand to stop her. “I’m not worried about that right now. What I’m wondering is, what set Jemima off if it wasn’t the two of you talking. Just a robbery
don’t seem like enough, unless it was Hannah who did it and we know that ain’t the case.”

From the doorway Elizabeth said, “It’s the loss of the money. The loss of the money and her husband all at—” She faltered, and Nathaniel saw some understanding come into her face. “No,” she corrected herself. “It is the money, it will always be that for Jemima. But this doesn’t have to do with Isaiah Kuick.”

“Then what?” said McGarrity.

Elizabeth lifted a shoulder. “I couldn’t say how, but I wonder if this doesn’t have something to do with Liam Kirby.”

Jed threw an uneasy look in the twins’ direction. “Jemima got what she wanted from Liam Kirby, it seems to me.” His voice trailed away to a rough cough. “I suppose he could be hanging around these parts, keeping himself out of sight. Hannah hasn’t said anything about seeing him, has she?”

Elizabeth sent Nathaniel a questioning look, but he had turned his attention to a callus on the heel of his hand, his mouth set in a deep frown. In fact, none of the men seemed eager to comment on Liam Kirby.

“No,” Elizabeth said. “I can tell you for a certainty that Hannah has not seen or heard from Liam since your wedding party back in the spring. I must be mistaken about Liam. We will find out soon enough what moved Jemima to file that complaint, I suppose.”

Jed McGarrity stood up slowly. “I don’t like this,” he said. “Not any of it, but O’Brien’s on his way, and your Hannah will have to answer his questions. Don’t see any way around that. And before I forget, there’s one more thing I come to say. Mrs. Bonner, if I could have a word with you alone, I’d appreciate it.”

Nathaniel went looking for Elizabeth expecting an argument, or at the very least, some hard questions about Liam Kirby. She was already on the verge of figuring out for herself what Nathaniel and his father had agreed not to tell her, quite yet: Liam Kirby was in hiding on the mountain again, but he wasn’t looking for runaways; just the opposite. Somehow or another he and Manny had hooked up and decided to take the matter of Ambrose Dye into their own hands.

The question she would ask first was the hardest one: Why
would Manny be working together with the man who was responsible—at least in part—for his wife’s death? The answer was, of course, that Liam hadn’t been responsible and, in fact, the opposite might just be true. He hadn’t been able to save Selah but he had saved the rest of the runaways by simply keeping his mouth shut when Cobb was examining their papers.

If Nathaniel laid all this out for Elizabeth, she was likely to take a musket and go off in search of Liam to get the answers she’d want. He could only hope she didn’t figure things out for herself before he could find a way to open up the subject with her.

The sight of Ethan standing white-faced by the window put all thought of Liam Kirby out of Nathaniel’s head.

“It is your choice,” Elizabeth was saying. “You may go if you need to be with her, Ethan, but for your own well-being I hope you will stay here with us.”

“What’s this about?”

Elizabeth jumped at the sound of his voice and sent him a flustered and embarrassed look.

“Kitty is come down with the scarlet fever,” she said. “Richard sent word with Mr. McGarrity.” On her face he could see what she did not want to say in front of Ethan: that Richard feared for her life, and thought her son should be with her.

“I’ll take you home.”

“But—” Elizabeth began.

“Get your things together and go wait for me on the porch,” Nathaniel said to Ethan in as gentle a voice as he could manage.

When Ethan had left them Nathaniel said, “You go too far, Elizabeth. You can’t keep the boy away from his mother when she asked for him.”

She stood suddenly, bright anger flashing across her face. “It is for his own good that I tried,” she said. “And I might have succeeded, if you hadn’t interfered.”

Nathaniel forced himself to take a deep breath, and then another. Elizabeth was trembling as if she feared he might raise a hand to her, and in some part of his mind Nathaniel knew that the anger on his face had given her that idea.

She said, “Let me go in his place. He is my brother’s son, Nathaniel. I can’t let him expose himself to such danger.”

“It ain’t your choice, Boots,” Nathaniel said, and walked away before he said anything else.

She came running to the door just as he was about to close it behind himself, her face streaked with tears, and watched from the porch as he walked away with Ethan at his side.

Hannah had gone with so little sleep for so long that she was not surprised to find that she had lost the habit. Richard might order her to get a few hours’ rest, and she might even lie down on the workroom cot and feel the room reel around her from exhaustion, but sleep still evaded her.

Upstairs Ethan was sitting by Kitty’s bedside. He stayed through fever convulsions and delirium that would have scared most children away. He stayed because every now and then Kitty was clearheaded enough to recognize him and to say a few words before she fell away again into her fever dreams.

Hannah wanted to go home to Lake in the Clouds. It was a simple thing, really. She would go out to the stable where Strikes-the-Sky kept watch and waited for her, and she would ask him to take her home. The urge was so strong that Hannah found herself standing by the door before she remembered that she was alone in this house with a dead infant, a dying woman, and a little boy.

Richard was at the LeBlancs’ or the Hindles’, or maybe, if things had taken a turn for the worse, at some new bedside. Bump would be with him, keeping a watch on the doctor while the doctor watched the sick. Dolly Smythe, pressed into service by Richard, was gone to whatever family needed nursing.

Hannah stood with a hand on the door frame, looking at the cot where she was meant to be sleeping, and then at the kitchen table. A mouse sat right in its middle working diligently at a scrap of bacon rind. It occurred to Hannah that her own stomach was rumbling, and that she couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten, or somebody had offered to feed her.

Then the kitchen door opened with a creak and Curiosity
stood there. She looked at the mouse on the kitchen table and then at Hannah, her face slack with surprise and something else, something like fear or dread.

Curiosity Freeman afraid of a mouse. A waking dream, then. Hannah went back to the cot, lay down, and the sleep that she had been looking for found her.

“Hannah.” Ethan’s voice, close to her ear. “Hannah, wake up. Please. Mama is asking for you.”

Sleep left her as quickly as it had come, and Hannah started up so suddenly that Ethan jumped back.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, his breath hitching. “But Mama is asking for you and Curiosity said I should come tell you so.”

Hannah rubbed her eyes, and rubbed them again, unsure for the moment what time of day it was or even where she found herself. Then she realized what Ethan had said.

“Curiosity is here?”

He nodded. “Hours ago. She said to let you sleep, but now Mama is asking for you.”

“And Galileo?” Hannah asked as they made their way upstairs.

“He’s here too, and Daisy.” There was new color in Ethan’s face, and a hopefulness that made Hannah wonder, just for that moment, if perhaps Kitty had taken a turn for the better simply because she had Curiosity with her.

She said, “I thought I dreamed you,” and walked directly into Curiosity’s arms, thin and wiry and fierce, and such a comfort that tears rose to Hannah’s eyes and spilled over in a sudden quick burst.

Curiosity pulled away to look at her. Her mouth pressed hard, she ran a hand over Hannah’s brow. With one long finger she tapped on Hannah’s chin. “Open up now.”

When she had studied Hannah’s tongue she stepped back, and taking her by the upper arms she squeezed. “No canker, thank the Lord, but Hannah, child. Tell me, what help are you going to be to sick folks if you run yourself half to death?”

“It’s not as bad as it could be. Curiosity, your Daisy—”

Curiosity hushed her with an upheld hand. “I sent Galileo straight over there soon as I seen the lay of the land. The children
all on the mend and like to drive Daisy to drink with complaining about having to stay abed.”

“Kitty—” Hannah began, and Curiosity shook her head sharply. In that one motion Hannah knew the worst.

“You best go straight in,” she said. “There ain’t a lot of time to waste.”

The figure in the bed was so slight and insubstantial that she seemed more likely to be a sister than a mother to the boy sitting at her side. Kitty’s breath hitched and caught, hitched and caught. Ethan leaned over her and put a light hand on her shoulder.

“Mama,” he said softly. “Mama, Hannah is come.”

She opened her eyes immediately, red-rimmed and glassy, and she drew a deeper breath.

Hannah came to sit where she could see Kitty’s face without forcing her to turn her head. For her trouble she got a small smile, no more than a flickering at the corner of the mouth, fever-blistered and raw.

“Curiosity is come home,” Kitty whispered.

“Yes,” Hannah said. “And Galileo.”

Kitty blinked once, and then again. She opened her mouth and her voice caught.

“Would you like some water?” Hannah started to stand, and Kitty shook her head.

“Hannah,” she said. “I am worried for Richard.”

In her surprise Hannah could only nod.

“When I am gone Elizabeth will want to take Ethan to raise, and Richard will be alone.”