Texas Angel, 2-in-1 (31 page)

“Didn’t you say you built the barn?” She was constantly trying to bolster his morale, it seemed.

“Half of it, but don’t take a level to the place. My father was something of a carpenter, so I learned a bit from him when my nose wasn’t buried in a book.”

He said most of what he knew about frontier life he had read in books before leaving Boston. He’d also taught himself to shoot after he had accepted the position with the missionary board. “Though,” he quipped, “no one it seems can teach a man how to actually hit a target. At least it hasn’t worked with me.”

Elise was determined to master the role of homemaker, though she wondered if it was a part she would play for long. Certainly she could not stay in the Sinclair cabin forever. Perhaps Benjamin would help her build a cabin somewhere, and she could set up her own home with Hannah.

Now, there is a true pipe dream, Elise Toussaint, she thought. A woman alone on the frontier? It would be nothing short of scandalous. Even if she didn’t practice her old profession, everyone would think she did anyway. If she survived. Many women, of course, were left alone while their husbands went hunting and such, or, as with Benjamin, rode circuits. But that was after the husband had put by a supply of meat and wood and taken care of other such needs.

What was in her future? For the last year she had been so absorbed in the misery of her
present
, she found now it was rather luxurious to even contemplate a future. She tried not to think of all the complications in her life, things that might make it impossible for her to ever have a normal life again.

Instead, she focused on the here and now. The cozy little cabin, the children who were coming to depend on her and even, she thought, care for her. But that went two ways. As the children grew close to her, she also was becoming attached to them. Oliver had no idea if she was his mother or not, he simply responded to her as if she were, quieting when she held him, cooing at the sound of her voice. She had even been the one to witness his first smile.

The pain of their mother’s loss was still deep in Isabel and Leah, yet because Elise made no attempt to replace Rebekah and was careful not to force affection upon the girls, they were warming up to her. And quite surprisingly, Isabel was a great help to Elise in the house. Constantly by her mother’s side, she had learned much. And Elise made sure that memories of Rebekah were included as often as possible.

Micah was a problem Elise had no idea what to do about. Though nothing had been said, she knew his pain ran deeper than merely the loss of his mother. His intense animosity toward Benjamin was heart-wrenching. Elise remained cautiously out of it. She let them deal with each other as they must while she concentrated on each as individuals. Thus Micah was polite and civil to her, even if he wasn’t to his father.

In addition to the strain of caring for the Sinclair children, Elise found Hannah to be a frustrating challenge that caused her constant heartache. She began to wonder if Hannah would ever be healthy again. It saddened and frightened her to compare her daughter to the younger Leah, who was as chubby and robust as Hannah was frail and withering. Elise had heard about the cholera epidemic that had struck Texas two years earlier, killing thousands. If something like that should happen again, she knew Hannah could not survive. Yet even knowing Hannah could die at any time, Elise could not prepare herself emotionally for such a tragedy. She knew her heart would break at the loss, no matter how much she expected it.

Elise glanced out the window. The rawhide had been pushed back, and she could see it was a pleasant afternoon. She best leave off with her idle thoughts, which were growing more morose with each minute. Benjamin would be home soon and would want supper. Since it took Elise twice as long to prepare meals as it would Mrs. Child or even Rebekah, she best get busy.

Benjamin eyed the buck some one hundred and fifty yards away. For the first time that day, he had spotted an animal before it espied him. He raised his hand silently, signaling Micah to stop. For once, the boy obeyed instantly.

Actually, it had been an inspired idea to take Micah on the hunting expedition. The boy had remained cold and silent most of the time and often appeared as if he’d just as soon aim his rifle at Benjamin as at any innocent beast. But at least they had not had a single falling out since leaving early that afternoon. Benjamin
had
lost his temper the first time Micah had carelessly scared off a nice plump turkey. But other than that, the day had progressed rather tranquilly.

“Let’s move a bit to the right,” Benjamin whispered. “Remember, a deer standing still will turn his head from the wind so he can see danger approach. That way he smells danger coming from behind him. Our best position is across the wind from the animal.”

“How do you know that?” There was a slight edge to Micah’s question, but Benjamin sensed the cause might be that he begrudged admitting an interest in anything his father might say.

“I read about it.”

“Humph.”

Micah never did have much appreciation for scholarship. He was going to have to be convinced by action that one could learn something practical from a mere book.

“The best time to hunt deer is in the early morning or early evening when they are feeding. We are lucky the animal is feeding now. . . .”

“Lucky?” Micah cocked his eyebrow.

The boy wasn’t going to give Benjamin an inch of slack. Well, I don’t deserve it, Benjamin thought wryly. “Yes, lucky. It’s a mere word, Micah.”

“So it wasn’t by
God’s providence
that the deer is feeding when he normally shouldn’t be?”

Even in his present spiritual state, Benjamin cringed at the way Micah slurred the reference to God. Had he destroyed not only his son’s relationship with him but with God as well?

“I just don’t know anymore, Micah.” If the boy perceived anything at all, he would see Benjamin’s statement had to do with more than deer. He added uncomfortably, “We best be still before we alert the animal.”

As if to prove his caution, the deer glanced up from his grazing. Benjamin mouthed to Micah to freeze. Then they waited several moments before the animal began grazing again. With a slight motion, Benjamin signaled for them to proceed. They did so with the greatest of stealth. In three minutes they were within range.

Benjamin’s pulse was pounding, his palms sweating as he gripped his musket. He’d never bagged a deer before, and he felt excitement rising at the prospect. He had read that this sensation was called “buck fever.” In the past he might have rebuked the emotion as frivolous and unholy, but now he let it have full rein. He honestly could not think why he had thought such excited emotions were wrong.

Glancing at Micah, he saw his son also emanated the same kind of agitation, at least if it could be judged by his pale face and taut lips and the way his jaw muscles were dancing spasmodically. Benjamin hadn’t considered his son’s expectations in this hunt, and they certainly hadn’t discussed it. He had assumed he’d get the first kill, then if there was another opportunity, he’d let Micah have a chance. After all, they were getting low on meat and could not afford to risk a chance to fill the larders when it came. But the day was wearing on. It would take a couple hours to get back to the cabin. This might be their only opportunity.

Suddenly Benjamin knew that a unique opportunity had been given to him. A chance to cull his son’s love—well, he doubted it would go that far, but he’d be happy with merely a word of gratitude from his recalcitrant son.

“Get your gun ready, son,” he breathed.

“Me?”

“You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

Micah nodded, then lifted his musket.

When they had first started out, they had loaded their muskets. Benjamin had been surprised at how much Micah knew. He had exhibited an ability to measure the powder, cut the grease patch, and to tamp the ball with the ramrod. Benjamin was pleased to see he had developed good technique. He’d tried to teach Micah what little he knew about shooting, but being gone so much, he knew his instruction had been fairly inadequate. He wondered where the boy had learned to place the butt of the musket firmly against his shoulder. Had Haden given him lessons while they were on the trail together?

Somewhat morosely, Benjamin thought of his brother, who had also taught him how to shoot back in Boston. Yes, Benjamin could see Haden in Micah’s stance, even in the way he pushed his tongue against the inside of his mouth as he aimed the weapon.

“Remember, gently squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull. And keep your eyes on your target—”

“I know what to do,” Micah broke in tersely.

Benjamin closed his eyes, took a breath . . . and remained silent.

He watched as Micah sighted the rifle, took a breath himself, and held it for one long instant. Micah was patient, not like you’d expect an eager youth to behave on the occasion of his first kill. But then, maybe this wasn’t his first. Benjamin was wondering about this, regretting that he might not be the one to have shared this momentous “first” with his son, when the report of the rifle blasted in his ears.

The deer fell in instant response. Benjamin grinned and slapped Micah on the back.

“Good work, son!”

Micah flinched slightly at the touch but said nothing more than a grunt in response. Benjamin bounded forward to examine the kill and started to grab an antler.

“Shouldn’t you make sure it’s dead first?” Micah asked with a hint of superiority.

Benjamin felt foolish, since that was a rule even a novice should know. Remembering now what he’d been taught, he reached cautiously toward the animal with the barrel of his musket and poked the buck’s eye. It was then that he saw where the ball had struck.

There was a hole clean between the buck’s eyes. Benjamin’s head jerked back to gape in astonishment at his son. Micah wore a look of grim satisfaction. In that moment he was not a thirteen-year-old boy who had just killed a fine buck. He was a wizened old man, hardened, stonelike.

“You
have
been practicing,” Benjamin managed to say.

Micah shrugged. “Yeah, some.” He then added almost as a challenge, “Do you know what to do now?”

Benjamin had watched the process before but couldn’t remember everything, though he wouldn’t admit that. Instead he answered, “This will be good practice for you, Micah. Why don’t you take it from here?”

Micah drew his knife from its sheath and slit the buck’s throat, neatly severing the jugular. He then rolled the animal on its back, slicing open the belly from the groin to the chest cavity. Reaching into the opening, he rolled out the guts. Benjamin watched in awe. Who was this stranger at his side?

“Where did you learn all this, Micah?” he couldn’t keep from asking, though it galled him.

“Uncle Haden showed me. You only gotta see it done once.”

Benjamin said nothing, biting back a defensive remark. He realized that when he had seen it done, he hadn’t been paying close attention because he’d not thought it important. For some reason it had been very important to Micah, and he remembered all the details.

They trussed up the animal and carried it home between them. Benjamin never could shake the sense that he was walking with a stranger.

CHAPTER

38

W
HEN THEY RETURNED HOME
, Benjamin sent Micah down to the creek to wash off the blood and grime from gutting the buck. He then began the process of skinning the animal. Because Micah had asked to keep the hide, Benjamin took special care in the process. Again, this was not a task in which he was adept. He should have waited for Micah, whom he knew had a vested interest in the buck, but he still had some vestige of pride left after the humbling day of hunting. And when Micah took an inordinately long time at the creek, Benjamin lost his patience and began alone. Micah had probably had more time alone with his father than he could bear.

When John Hunter rode into the yard, Benjamin was both pleased and disappointed. He longed for a reprieve from the task, and he knew John would be happy to lend more than a hand, but Benjamin also knew he’d never learn himself if he depended on others. He was thinking much lately of his future and the fact that he well might need to support his family through farming rather than the ministry.

“Look what you got there!” John said, dismounting and striding over to the area near the woodpile that Benjamin had staked out for his work. “A fine big buck, too.”

“My son bagged him.” Benjamin could not help his pride. “Right between the eyes!”

“Didn’t know the boy was such an accomplished shooter.”

“Neither did I.”

“Must be a natural.”

“He surely didn’t get it from me.” Benjamin hefted the buck in a better position to be worked on.

“Let me give you a hand.”

John squatted down next to Benjamin and held one of the buck’s legs while Benjamin made careful slits and began gently working his knife under the hide. “I want to save the hide for Micah,” Benjamin explained.

“Might be able to get him a nice shirt out of it,” John commented.

“He’d like that, I’m sure. I think he is becoming quite the frontiersman.”

John chuckled. “Kids learn fast.”

“Not like their dim-witted fathers.” Benjamin laughed dryly.

He thought of the afternoon and how it all had come so naturally to Micah. In the past Benjamin had expected that his son would follow him into the ministry, though that dream had quickly faded after they had come to Texas. Even when Benjamin had begun to see the futility of such an expectation for his son, he had viewed it as a flaw in Micah. Now he saw it from a different perspective. Micah was not flawed at all because his interests were different from his father’s. He simply had his own way, his own path. Perhaps Benjamin’s ability to see this, to allow him to follow that path, was one good thing to emerge from all the tragedy.

“What brings you out today, John?” Benjamin pulled his focus back to his guest.

John hesitated, and if Benjamin had harbored a hope that this was merely a friendly visit, he knew now to brace himself for something else.