My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers) (35 page)

Within minutes she was given the opportunity to review all her reasons for leaving.

“Where are we going?” Ned clambered down the ladder. “Didn’t you hear me ask earlier?”

He looked sleepy and grouchy, and Caroline wished she could throw her arms about his as she had last night. But something in his manner told her he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture, so she simply turned back to stirring the cornmeal mush. “We’re returning to Seven Pines today. You’ll like it there, Ned. The house is much grander than this and there are—”

“Are you sure we should leave the fort? Mr. MacQuaid said—”

“Mr. MacQuaid doesn’t know everything.”

“Perhaps.” Ned slumped into a chair and stretched his silk-clad legs out in front of him. “But he is part Cherokee, and he thinks—”

“He said. He thinks. Ned,” Caroline said dropping to her knees in front of him and grasping his hands. “Seven Pines is ours. The Cherokee just signed a treaty with the English. I saw them do it.”

“But—”

“And there are other things to consider. The fort is full of smallpox. So far we’ve been able to avoid catching it, but the situation grows worse every day. And it isn’t just you and me to consider. There’s another woman, Mary and her new baby. She was asleep when you came last night, but she lives at Seven Pines, too, and we’re both counting on your help.”

Edward stared at her a moment with eyes as blue as her own, then he nodded, and she gave in to her earlier desire and hugged him. She was right. He seemed embarrassed by the gesture, and Caroline noted again how much her younger brother had grown up in the months since she last saw him.

When Mary entered the room, Caroline made the introductions, then they sat down to eat as the eastern sky showed signs of paling. Mistress Quinn joined them, grumbling about the prospect of their leaving. But she refused Caroline’s repeated offer to take her along.

“No, you young’uns be off with you. I’m not going trotting farther into the frontier.”

Edward balked a bit when Caroline forced him to sort through the trunk he’d brought, discarding the finer silk breeches and coats. “Mistress Quinn will keep them for you, and later you can fetch them. For now ’tis no room to carry this with us.”

“But I brought a pack horse.”

“Which we shall need to help carry all our belongings. Believe me, Ned. ’Tis not fancy clothes you’ll be needing, but something sturdy.”

“Like Mr. MacQuaid wears?”

Caroline should have known she hadn’t heard the last of his name from her brother’s lips. “Yes, something like that,” she agreed.

It was nearly two hours after dawn when they left the fort. Caroline waited till she was confident that Wolf was gone—unlike her brother, she was certain he would get an early start. And she assuredly didn’t wish to run into him. She never promised him she’d stay at the fort, but she knew that was what he expected. Nay, demanded of her. As she led the way down the path toward Seven Pines, Caroline wondered what he’d do when he discovered them gone.

Damn Caroline Simmons, nay, Caroline MacQuaid. He couldn’t forget she was his father’s widow. And damn himself for not being able to stop thinking of her.

Wolf leaned forward, bracing his arms upon his thighs and forced her from his mind as he concentrated on the words of hatred spewing from Tal-tsuska’s mouth. The venom was aimed at the British, but Wolf wasn’t sure most of it wasn’t meant for him personally. Not that he didn’t agree with much of what his cousin said. The treaty signed by several of the Headmen
was
an insult to the Cherokee.

“Wa`ya would have us believe that we are better off accepting this abomination than fighting it. I say he is acting like the frightened woman he is.” With that personal affront Tal-tsuska crossed his arms and all eyes in the smoke-filled town house at Estatoe shifted to Wolf.

His first impulse was to leap across the smoldering fire and tear into his nemesis. What a relief it would be to rip him limb from limb, to pound his fist into that taunting face.

But he came to preach reason... caution... self-preservation for the Cherokee, and he had to keep that as his first priority. Yet his fists clenched and his blood boiled with impotent rage as he faced the Headman.

“Tal-tsuska speaks of the unfairness of the treaty and I agree,” Wolf began in the language of his mother’s people. “But to begin the slaughter of women and children as he suggests is to think with the brain of a dog.” From the corner of his eye Wolf noticed the way Tal-tsuska jerked forward, and the hands of those beside him, holding him back. The town house was not for fighting, but for words, and Wolf tried to pick his carefully.

“The Cherokee are mighty warriors. No one, not even the English can dispute that. But they are also wise. Many of our Headmen are held within the English fort. If we begin killing, the soldiers will slay them. Is that wise? Is that the way of the Cherokee?”

“What would you have us do? Sit on our hands like an old woman?”

Wolf glared at his cousin, his eyes dark and burning with intensity. “I would have us think before we run off like screeching crows, starting a war we cannot win.”

“Wa`ya speaks of the Cherokee’s bravery, then talks of our defeat,” Tal-tsuska said with scorn.

“The Cherokee will not fail because he lacks courage. He will fail because he is few compared to his enemy. Because the rifles he uses and the powder come from that enemy. And because he failed to plan.”

“What would you have us do, son of Alkini?” the Headman asked.

Later, Wolf squatted by the side of the creek, staring into the rushing water. Had he convinced the council to be prudent? He didn’t know. And the truth was, he didn’t know what should be done. Killing all in their path wasn’t the answer. He knew that as sure as he knew such actions would bring the wrath of the English down on his nation. Yet sitting by and doing nothing would not do, either. And negotiating? He dropped his head into the hollow made by his cupped palms.

For months he’d tried to bring the two nations... the two parts of himself together. To help formulate some plan that was fair to both sides. But it seemed hopeless. The white man may be rejoicing in the treaty they had made. But the Cherokee saw only the treachery of the English. The imprisonment of innocent men. Wolf knew it was only a matter of time before the Cherokee broke that treaty.

Before war raged through the land.

And he seemed powerless to stop it.

“There sits the old woman now.”

Wolf sprang up when he heard the taunting voice of his cousin. There was no council that prohibited fighting now. Before Tal-tsuska could do more than blink, Wolf was upon him. The savage feel of his flesh beneath Wolf’s fist was as satisfying as he’d imagined. As was the strangled cry that escaped his foe. The first punch was followed by another and another as they both rolled onto the rocky ground.

They were well-matched physically, though Wolf was the taller of the two and the struggle was vicious. First one was on top, then the other, but it wasn’t until blood flowed into Wolf’s eye that he even realized he’d been hit.

Wolf straddled his foe when he vaguely heard Tal-tsuska call out. But he paid no heed until his arms were yanked back and pinned behind him. Wolf struggled, but it was useless as two warriors dragged him to his feet. They held him while Tal-tsuska slowly stood. He wiped at his mouth, glaring at Wolf when his hand came away streaked with blood.

“You shall pay for this, Man who Cavorts with the English,” he ordered. He gave an order to the two who held Wolf prisoner.

“The hell you say!”

“It is I who say.” Tal-tsuska approached till he stood nose to nose with Wolf. “We listen to no more old women who preach caution. No longer will we allow the English to dominate us.” He bared his teeth. “We shall eliminate them from our land.” Though the air was cold, sweat glistened on his pockmarked face. “The wife of your father travels to Seven Pines. But do not worry, I shall not kill her... at least not at first.”

Tal-tsuska jerked back, laughing when Wolf broke free from the men holding him. He sprang toward his cousin, but before Wolf’s hands were able to close around Tat-tsuska’s neck, pain exploded in his head. Wolf struggled a step farther before crashing to the ground.

The journey to Seven Pines was easier than Caroline expected. Mary handled the trip well, speaking often of how glad she would be to get home and wondering if Logan might come soon. Colleen was still very small, even though she seemed to nurse frequently.

“She’ll be better once we are back at Seven Pines,” Mary would say.

The house was much as they’d left it, with only a few woodland creatures having sought shelter inside. Caroline and Edward made quick work of evicting them, then set about flushing the nearby forests for the farm animals left behind.

At least the chickens were still scratching in view of the house. The cow was a bit more difficult to find, but Edward finally located her calmly munching her cud near the river, several miles downstream.

In all this time, the forest seemed peaceful, the skeletal trees in the winter chill, hiding no hostile Indians. And Caroline began to breathe easier. There was no threat of smallpox here. Her bouts of morning illness were gone. She felt strong. And she tried to give some of that strength to Mary.

Ned seemed born to the frontier. He’d found a cache of clothing that belonged to Logan; and after asking permission, set about wearing the hunting shirts and breeches, forgoing the silks he brought from England. Back home he’d learned to hunt for sport while visiting school chums at their lodges. Now he did it in earnest and kept them well supplied with rabbit and squirrel.

He was on a foray into the woods today. Caroline warned him not to venture far and every now and then she’d hear a gunshot echo through the forest. The scent of fresh-baked bread filled the kitchen. Mary sat by the fire, shortening another pair of breeches for Edward. Whenever Colleen fussed, she nudged the cradle with her foot rocking it gently.

“I don’t know much about Logan’s older brother,” Mary responded to Caroline’s question. “He left home when he was young to fight for Prince Charles. Apparently Robert was livid and never forgave him. Even after word reached the family that he was captured and to be hung, his father wouldn’t allow his name to be spoken.”

“Goodness. What a heartless thing to do.” Caroline pulled a loaf of freshly baked bread from the oven. “Robert wasn’t a very loving father.”

“Hardly.” Mary bit off her thread and looked up to meet Caroline’s eye. “That’s one reason I’m glad you’re carrying Raff’s child rather than his.”

It was the first time the parentage of her baby was mentioned since Caroline confessed it to Mary. Caroline didn’t know quite what to say. Mary acted almost as if the entire problem could be handled somehow, and Caroline didn’t share that view. She opened her mouth to explain again why nobody must ever know Robert hadn’t fathered her child, but a bloodcurdling whoop silenced her.

Before she could grab the musket leaning in the corner, the door burst open. Tomahawk raised, Tal-tsuska rushed into the kitchen.

F
or an instant it seemed as if no one moved. As if they were all caught, frozen in time by the brush of some diabolical artist. Mary was kneeling beside the cradle, her face contorted by terror, her arms reaching for her child... reaching yet unable to touch. Tal-tsuska stood, his entire body smeared with paint—red, black, horrifying colors that made him appear an escapee from hell looming, superimposed on the swarm of similar monsters who filled the doorway.