The Gentle Rebel (6 page)

Then the boys stood before Adam, and for once for some reason, Nathan did not feel intimidated. He looked into his father’s eyes and saw there for the first time in years, an approval that he had always longed for.

Adam sought for words, but could only say what Molly had said. “Nathan, take care of your brother.”

“Yes, sir.” Nathan put his hand out awkwardly, but it was ignored and suddenly Adam put his arms around both boys, drawing them in with a powerful hug that took their breath, then released them.

“Get on your way now—and take care of each other.”

They left, and all the way to town and for a long time after that, Nathan heard the words that his parents had spoken: “Take care of your brother.” And he always remembered the strength of his father’s arms in that last powerful embrace.

CHAPTER FOUR

COUNTRY COUSIN

Ice glittered on the backs of the horses, and their frosty breath rose like miniature clouds of incense as Nathan pulled them to a halt in front of the two-story building that fronted the harbor with the sign THE WINSLOW COMPANY over the door.

“Wake up, Caleb.” He nudged the small mountain of blankets huddled close beside him, and a smile touched his lips as a groan of protest emerged from the depths. “We’re here—come out of there, boy.”

“What is it?” The blankets parted, and Caleb reluctantly surfaced from the warm cocoon. He wore a black wool knitted cap pulled down to his eyebrows, a red and blue scarf swathed his face, so that all that could be seen of him was a sleepy pair of dark eyes.

“Go see where they want the load,” Nathan said. “Looks like they might be closed.” He watched with amusement as Caleb climbed down stiffly, then waddled across the snow to the big double doors. He looked like a walking barrel, for he hated cold and wore every garment he’d brought on the trip, in addition to a buffalo coat of Nathan’s.

Been a hard trip,
Nathan reflected as he watched Caleb disappear into the depths of the warehouse.
Bet not even Father could have done better!
Ice glittered in the short red stubbles of his beard, and he shook his head ruefully at his pride, knowing that his father would have made the trip faster.

But it
had
been a hard journey. Winter had closed like an
iron fist, freezing the roads to slick ribbons, and near-blizzard cold had punished the horses terribly. Caleb had begun well, but for the last week he had done nothing but hug the fire at night and swath himself into every garment he could find during the day’s trek. They had met with few travelers, and Nathan could not resist a heady gust of pride as he realized that he had brought the furs through when most men had sought the warmth of fire inside snug cabins.

As the big double doors swung open, he glanced down at his large hands, blue from the cold and calloused from handling the lines, and was pleased. There had been doubt in his father’s eyes when they had parted, but the good feeling of accomplishing a hard task was a solid feeling in Nathan. “Hup, Babe—Dan!” He guided the team into the dark interior, climbed down and stamped his feet, which had no more feeling than the iron ring he tied up to.

“Mister Winslow didn’t look for you.” A thick-bodied man with a face blue from cold and red from drink stared at Nathan, and there was some resentment in his clipped New England speech as he added, “Don’t have no help this time of day fer unloadin’.”

“It’ll wait for tomorrow.”

“Them horses won’t wait!”

If the man had been more civil, Nathan would have helped unhitch, but he was bone-tired and both he and Caleb were half-starved. “We’re going to my uncle’s house. How far is it?”

The big man’s face flushed, but he said, “Three miles back down the old Turnpike—you must’a passed it comin’ in—big white house with pillars.” He gave them instructions in a grudging voice, then grinned sourly. “You’ll have a nice little walk—may get there by dark.”

Nathan stared at him, then said, “Caleb, we’ll take Babe and Dan.” The two brothers unhitched the horses, put a pair of hair hackamores on them, and led them outside. Nathan said tersely to the heavy man, “Get those other two animals unhitched and fed!” He mounted easily, but Caleb had to
lead Dan to the watering trough and use it for a platform as he scrambled aboard, not without groaning.

The horses were just about played out, but three more miles would not kill them. As they plodded down the frozen road, the light beginning to fail, Caleb asked, “Uncle Charles won’t be looking for us, will he?”

“I guess not, with all this weather. But he’ll sure be glad to get the furs.”

Caleb beat his hands together, then blew on them for warmth. “I can’t remember much about him, Nathan. Is he like Father?”

There was a small interval of silence; then Nathan shook his head, a thoughtful stirring in his eyes. “No, Caleb, he’s not like Father.” He paused and the sound of the iron shoes on the frozen ground punctuated the cold silence, and a small smile touched his broad lips as he added, “But then, nobody else is like him, either!”

“Well, I sure hope they ain’t finished supper yet,” Caleb said. “My belly feels like my throat’s been cut! I’ve sure heard a lot, though, about how fancy Aunt Dorcas is. She might bow up over having us at her best table, dirty as we are.”

“Might be right,” Nathan nodded, then added with a touch of warning in his voice, “Don’t think they’ll chuck us out for being trail worn—but you keep your revolutionary talk to yourself, Caleb. You mind what Father told us about Uncle Charles.”

“Yaaaaa! Makes me sick!” Caleb scowled and gave Dan a hard kick. “Think of Winslows being a bunch of Tories!”

“That’s what I mean!” Nathan said sharply, and he reached out and grabbed Caleb’s arm strongly. “You keep that talk to yourself while we are here—and stay away from that rabble that calls itself Sons of Liberty, you hear me?”

Caleb turned suddenly, and his customary smile faded. His square face turned stubborn, and for one instant Nathan had the feeling that he was looking into his father’s dark eyes. “I’ll say what I think, Nathan—here or anywhere else!”

Hot words leaped to Nathan’s lips, but he bit them off. He and Caleb had been through this many times, and it always ended with both of them white-lipped with anger.
No use to argue with him,
he thought wearily.
Mother and Father feel the same way, so it’s no wonder he’s getting to be a fire-eater.
But he only shook his head, saying in a reasonable tone, “Look, just keep your political opinions to yourself, Caleb—while we’re here. Because if you don’t, we’ll get sent home quick, and Father won’t ever let us do anything like this again.”

The latter warning seemed to have some effect, for Caleb quickly shut off his protests and said only, “Well, guess you’re right about that, Nathan—but it goes against the grain!”

Darkness fell quickly, and they managed to get lost inside the city, so that by the time they pulled up in front of a large white house on the outskirts of town, Nathan had to lean down and put his face to the sign. He made out the letters, straightened up, and said, “This is it. Come on.”

A long ice-packed drive led to the house, and the rising wind made the frozen branches click overhead as they passed beneath. Tying their horses to an iron fence that set off a flowerbed, they mounted the high steps, and Nathan gave a couple of firm raps with the heavy brass knocker on the massive door.

Caleb shifted nervously as they waited, and finally he said, “Maybe we should have gone to the back door.”

Nathan stared at him, then said, “What did that sign say over the door at the warehouse?”

Caleb thought, then answered, “The Winslow Company.”

“That’s right—and my name is Winslow. You go to the back door if you feel like it.” He turned to hide a smile, for his taunt had done exactly what he’d expected—turned Caleb stubborn, which wasn’t too hard to do in any case.

The door slowly opened, just a crack, and a black face appeared. “The family is at dinner. Is you expected?”

Nathan shot back, “Not
all
the family’s at dinner. Go tell your master his nephews from Virginia are here!”

The steely quality in Nathan’s voice must have startled the black man, for he quickly opened the door, and gave a nervous nod, saying, “Oh yas, indeed! You gentlemen come inside, please.” He shut the door behind them and gave another nervous nod. “I’ll tell Mistuh Winslow you is here!”

He turned to go, but at that moment, a voice called out from down the long hall, “Well—well! What’s this? Is it you, Nathan?”

A tall man with bright blue eyes and reddish hair had emerged from a set of double doors and now came forward. He held out his hand, gave Nathan a firm grip, then slapped him on the shoulder, “My word! Are you
ever
going to stop growing, Nathan? And you, Caleb—” He turned to shake hands with the younger boy, and there was a light of amusement in his bright eyes. He laughed in delight, and reached out to give the boy a sudden hug. “Why, you’re Adam Winslow!” He looked again and shook his head. “My word, you’re the image of your father when he was your age, Caleb!”

“I take that as a compliment, Uncle Charles,” Caleb said at once. He did not make quick judgments, and the instant warmth of Charles Winslow had caused him to throw up some sort of a wall. Nathan had seen it often, not only in Caleb, but in his father as well. Both of them were slow to judge, while he himself (often to his own chagrin!) gave his loyalty readily.

“We’re a little late, Uncle Charles.”

“Late!” Charles stared up at his tall nephew, then shook his head in wonder. “We didn’t think you’d make it at all in this storm, Nathan!” Then he clapped their shoulders, saying, “You go get washed up—Benjamin, take my nephews to their room. Get them some hot water to wash with. We’ll hold dinner until you can get there, boys.”

“Yessuh, Mistuh Winslow!”

“Well, all our clothes are on the wagon, Uncle Charles,”
Nathan said, looking down at his mud-stained clothes. “We can’t come to dinner like this!”

“You come as you are, Nathan,” Charles said at once. “I don’t think a little honest dirt from hard work will kill us!”

He gave them a smile, then turned and walked quickly back to the dining room off to the left of the wide hallway. It was an enormous room, for one of his demands for a house was that it be able to handle large dinner parties. Two massive fireplaces faced each other, and the heavy logs that popped and roared kept the room warm. The dining table was over twenty feet long, and it was covered with blinding white linen. Two giant chandeliers reflected their myriad candles on the silver that lay beside the five places set at the end next to the door.

“Mary, set two more places,” Charles said to the black woman who stood by the wall.

“Two places? For whom?” Dorcas Winslow looked up sharply, her brown eyes reflecting her displeasure. She was an attractive woman, dressed in high fashion, even for a simple family dinner. Her dark brown hair shone in the candlelight, and the diamonds on her fingers winked as she raised a hand to pat it carefully. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“It’s Nathan and Caleb—just got in with the furs.”

“Couldn’t they wait until tomorrow?” Dorcas murmured. She loved ceremony, and any distractions that broke into the rituals of their affairs displeased her.

“Well, Mother, you couldn’t ask them to sleep in the warehouse, could you now?”

The speaker was a young man who sat directly across from Charles, and there was a teasing note in his clear voice as he looked at Dorcas. “After all, they
are
family, aren’t they?”

“I suppose, Paul,” she said slowly, then added, “But they’ll have to learn some manners if they stay here with us.”

“I expect they’ll have good enough manners,” Charles said easily. “Virginians are just about the most hospitable people you’ll find, Dorcas.”

“Backwoods manners are not exactly what I like to see in my own home, Charles.” She sighed and said, “I know you want them here, but it’s going to be difficult.”

“I do want them here,” Charles said, and there was a sudden firmness in his voice. He was too heavy, and his face was marked with the signs of good food and too much liquor, but at times the vigor of his youth flared out, and at times like that the family had learned to avoid argument.

He picked up his wineglass, took a swallow, and looked around, saying, “We need some strong fresh blood in the business. I know you don’t like Adam, Mama, but you’ll have to admit he’s a strong man—and I suspect these boys are just about the same.”

“A stubborn man—I never trusted him!” Martha Winslow was seventy-two, but there was no weakness in her. She stared at her son with sharp black eyes, and added, “You were always a fool about Adam—but he never cared a pin for you—nor for any of us!”

Paul Winslow sat back, his quick mind analyzing the scene before him. He knew much of his family history, but he had never understood the hatred his grandmother had for her stepson, Adam Winslow. Once he had asked his father about it, but Charles had shook his head, saying, “She always hated him, Paul—even when he was a child. I think she was jealous of his mother—but she’d never admit it. Just don’t think about it.”

As the old woman stubbornly said, “You’ll regret any dealings you have with that man!” Paul glanced at his mother and saw that she agreed with the sentiment—but for a different reason, he suspected. Suddenly he turned his head and caught the gaze of Anne Winslow, his fourteen-year-old sister. She had been listening quietly, but she missed little, Paul knew, and he winked at her, which made her drop her eyes.

“Adam’s all right, Mother,” Charles said adamantly, his face flushed as it often did when he was crossed. “He’s kept his end of the business going well enough. And we need to
keep the fur trade open. It’s the most prosperous part of the company.”

“Are they wearing Indian clothes, Father?” Anne piped up. She was a thin girl with her father’s auburn hair and fair skin. Her bright blue eyes came from him as well.

Charles stared at her, then leaned back and laughed, “Indian clothes? Why, no, sweetheart, of course not!”