My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers) (41 page)

Except that he could not.

All through the night as she snuggled in his arms, Wolf thought of the future. Of his woman and child living across the wide ocean. Of them safe. She would have money from Robert’s estate. By dawn he had convinced himself it was for the best.

“Thank God, you were able to get through.” Lieutenant Coytmore pushed away from the desk and advanced on Wolf and Caroline. “And both safe, I see.” He grabbed Caroline’s hands. “Your brother has been relentless in his demands that I send a patrol out to find you. I tried to explain—”

“Where is Edward?” Caroline asked.

“I don’t know for certain. Perhaps Mistress Quinn’s cabin. I could send someone to fetch him for you.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll find him.” Her eyes met Wolf’s, and he nodded, then walked her to the door.

“See that you don’t leave the fort,” he said before she left the room.

When she was gone, the lieutenant sank into the closest chair, all presence of congeniality gone. And apparently most remnants of his good sense with it. “The blasted Cherokee have gone mad. Word’s come through that about thirty of them attacked Elliott’s trading house,” he said referring to a trader’s compound up river. “They killed nearly everyone, then set about looting and drinking rum.” He rubbed both hands down his face then looked up, seemingly unaware of Wolf’s hard expression.

“Seroweh led the warriors, and he’s supposedly sent runners with bloody tomahawks through the nations proclaiming war. Supposedly the pass between here and Fort Loudoun is filled with blood-crazed heathens, and I feel more a prisoner here than a soldier.”

“And what of your Cherokee prisoners?”

The lieutenant let out a loud sigh. “Those savages are more a ball and chain about my neck than prisoners. Not a day goes by that I’m not petitioned by one or another of them for their release.” His head fell back against the chairback, knocking his powdered wig askew. “They are such a bother.”

“I imagine they find their captivity troublesome as well.”

“What?” The lieutenant looked up, then dismissed Wolf’s remark with a wave of his hand. “I want to know what you saw out there. Not one of my scouts is worth a damn. Wait a moment. Where in the hell are you going?”

Wolf paused, his hand on the latch. “I’m taking Mrs. MacQuaid and her brother to Charles Town.”

“But... but what about the Cherokee?”

Wolf’s brow arched. “You seem to forget, I
am
Cherokee.” He left on silent, moccasined feet.

Caroline met him at the door to Mistress Quinn’s cabin. But before he could tell her that they needed to leave immediately—a statement that was bound to shock since he hadn’t mentioned the trip to Charles Town to her at all—she surprised him. Grabbing his arms, she pulled him out the door and around the side of the log cabin.

“Caroline, we don’t have time for this.” Wolf expected her to throw herself into his arms, but she didn’t. Her expression was grave.

“Logan is here.”

“Logan?”

“Yes. But he’s asleep right now,” she said holding onto his arm when he would have rushed back inside. “Edward brought him over. It appears your brother arrived at the fort last night, on his way to Seven Pines. He’d gotten word Mary was to have a baby.”

“I wrote him.” Wolf felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. “Does he know... what happened?”

Tears filled Caroline’s eyes as she slowly nodded her head. “Edward told him.” She reached for Wolf’s hand. “He was trying to solicit volunteers to go after us, and he didn’t know Logan was Mary’s husband.”

Taking a deep breath, Wolf tilted his head up toward the heavens, then back down to Caroline. “I will talk to him.”

“He’s very...” Caroline paused searching for a word strong enough to describe the emotion she saw in Logan. Rage didn’t come close to describing to Wolf his brother’s reaction to the news of his wife and child’s death. But she settled on the word, “Angry.” She hurried on. “And he blames the Cherokee.” Did he blame his mixed-blood brother, too? Caroline didn’t know, but she felt she must warn Wolf of the possibility.

He only nodded. “I will talk to him,” he repeated.

“He’s drunk. He had a jug of something with him, and he drank almost all of it before he... fell asleep.”

“Passed out, more likely.” Wolf started toward the door, turning before he reached it. “You should try to get some rest. We are leaving in the morning.”

“Leaving?” Caroline rushed toward him as he lifted the door latch. “Where are we going?”

“To Charles Town.”

“But—”

Taking her shoulders, Wolf turned her into the cabin. He wanted to pull her back into his arms, and knew he shouldn’t. Still, he couldn’t stop his hands from lingering, from gathering warmth from just touching her.

“Please, Caroline,” he whispered into her silken hair. “Just do as I ask.”

Logan was flopped facedown, his feet and legs hanging over the edge of the rope-spring bedstead in the back room. Wolf wondered how Caroline managed to get him that far when he got a whiff of the rum odor permeating the room.

“Logan.” Wolf laid a hand on his arm. “Logan, wake up, it’s Wolf.”

“Get the hell away from me,” came the drink-deepened voice. “Just get the hell away from me.”

“I need to talk to you.”

The jug handle slipped from Logan’s finger and crashed to the floor. Rum poured out, seeping into the packed earth. Slowly Logan twisted around, raising himself on his elbows. His green eyes were bloodshot, but fierce in their stare. “Well, I sure as hell don’t want to talk to you.” His mouth twisted with hatred. “Damn Indian lover. Hell, you’re not just an Indian lover, you’re one of those murdering savages.”

Wolf said nothing, just continued to hold his brother’s gaze.

“Well, what the hell you looking at?” His words were slurred. “Haven’t you ever seen someone in mourning before?” He pushed to his feet, standing eye to eye with Wolf. “Your heathen people killed my wife and baby! Killed them, damn you.” His voice trailed off as tears filled his eyes and spilled over his dark lashes. Like a man unable to support himself any longer, he collapsed back onto the bed, his head falling into his hands.

“Got me crying like a damn baby.” He scrubbed at his face with the back of his hands.

“Logan, I know how you feel. Mary was—”

“Shit, you don’t know anything.” Logan was back on his feet again. “She loved me. The woman who lives here told me that. Hell, they were some of her last words. Mary loved Logan.” He glanced toward the cracked jug with an expression of longing. “She loved me, and I left her to die.”

“For God’s sake, Logan, this was not your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” Logan stumbled a step closer. “We both know why I left. I couldn’t stomach the old man. But did I stay around and try to right the wrongs he did?” He leaned toward Wolf. “Well, did I? Did I do what you did?” He stuck his index finger at Wolf’s chest.

“Hell no. I ran off to fight the Indians, and left my pregnant wife to be slaughtered.” He sank back on the bed. “She loved me, and I didn’t love her.” His head shot up. “Does that shock you, little brother? Everybody loved Mary. You even did, if you’re honest with yourself. Everybody but her goddamn no good husband, who couldn’t even save her from being hacked up by a band of savages.” He reached for the jug, shaking it so that more rum sprayed from the crack, but smiling when he heard the swish of liquid. With a satisfied nod he brought it to his lips.

“I think you’ve had enough of that.” Wolf’s hand stilled the jug’s upward tilt. “I want you to come to Charles Town with me.”

Logan shrugged the support away. “On the contrary, brother. I haven’t had nearly enough.” He took a deep swallow. “But when I have, I’ll let you know.” He took another swig, backhanding the rum from his lips and glaring at Wolf from his sad, red-rimmed eyes. “And I’m not going running off with my tail tucked between my legs to Charles Town. I’m going looking for Cherokee. Then I’m going to do to them what they did to Mary and the baby.” His chiseled features grew hard. “Maybe if I kill enough of them, I’ll be able to live with myself.”

“More likely you will get yourself killed.” Wolf grabbed Logan’s arm, hauling him up to his feet. “You are feeling sorry for yourself but—”

“You’re damned right I am.” Swinging out, his actions slowed by drink, Logan missed landing a punch on Wolf’s nose by a good foot. He did accomplish breaking free of his brother, and he used the opportunity to rush toward the door.

“Just leave me the hell alone,” he yelled over his shoulder before bursting through to the other room.

Caroline looked up from her sewing, her eyes wide, when Wolf’s brother exploded through the door. He staggered, grabbing hold of the doorjamb to steady himself before lurching toward her. Then he swerved and reached for the door latch, pulling it open, allowing a gust of frosty air to blow into the cabin, before he stumbled out into the darkness.

Wolf followed in his path, closing the door and turning to face Caroline. “You heard?”

“How could I not?” Setting her needle aside, Caroline stood and moved toward Wolf. “What are you going to do?”

His expression was unreadable. “I’m going to try and get you and your brother to Charles Town before war parties block the trail east.”

“But... but what of your brother?”

His eyes met hers then, and Caroline realized Wolf’s were nearly as sad as his brother’s. “There is nothing I can do, except hope and pray I don’t end up like him.”

T
he citizens of Charles Town reveled in their ignorance. Confident that Governor Lyttleton had solved the Cherokee problem, they steadfastly ignored any word to the contrary. Caroline, Wolf, and Edward arrived in the capital city in mid-February, after a journey that left Caroline exhausted. They had traveled hard, finding evidence of Cherokee raids at Ninety-Six, but no farther east.

“He won’t even listen,” Wolf told Caroline as he settled into the chair beside Edward. They were in the room at the inn that Wolf and her brother shared.

Caroline stayed down the hall, by herself. But she was visiting Ned when Wolf returned from his audience with the governor. Actually, she purposely stayed here so she could hear what had occurred. Since leaving Fort Prince George, she couldn’t count on Wolf coming to tell her himself. He treated her like the widowed wife of his father, not the lover she was. The change left her bewildered. And determined to find out the reason.

“Did you tell him of the attack at Seven Pines?” Caroline sank down on the stool by Wolf’s feet. When he glanced her way, she thought there was a spark in his dark eyes, a spark of the passion they’d shared. But it was quickly extinguished as he turned toward Edward.

“He called that an isolated incident.”

“What of Ninety-Six?” Caroline was determined that he look at her.

“Lyttleton refuses to believe the Cherokee will do anything substantial. He talks as if they are children too frightened of the king to go to war.” Wolf leaned back and took a deep breath. He was not eager to relate this next information. He’d enlisted Edward’s reluctant cooperation. But in truth he didn’t think that would make things much easier.

Wolf focused on the flames dancing in the grate. “I was able to book passage for you both. Your ship leaves—”

“You did what?” Caroline stood, knocking the stool to the side and faced Wolf, hands on hips.

He kept his voice firm. “Arranged for you to return to England.”

“For me to—” Caroline was incensed. She’d come with him to Charles Town because Wolf had convinced her it was too dangerous on the frontier. But she’d never agreed to leave South Carolina, nor had he so much as mentioned it. “I don’t wish to return to England,” she said as simply as she could.

“Now Caro it might be for the best. Raff assures me that with the money from your husband’s estate, you will be well provided for.”

Caroline turned on her brother. “You two plotted this up together, didn’t you?”

“Caro—”

“Answer me, damnit!” Pale curls swung over her shoulder as she turned herself to face Wolf squarely.

He didn’t flinch at her tone. “Do not blame your brother. It was my decision. Made with your well being in mind.”