Thorns in Eden and the Everlasting Mountains (37 page)

He got up knowing
he had to talk to her before it was too late. He rode along the creek, paused
to let the horse drink, when Robert Maldowney came trekking along the bank
toward him.

“I was up at
the house and Joab said you were away from home. I had a notion I’d find you
here.”

Nash looked
out at the water.

“Are you
troubled?” Maldowney asked. “Is there anything I can do?”

“It would do
me good to hear you say God has listened.”

“Aye, he
hears, and he looks on the heart.”

“But never
upon a man’s reason?”

 “In times of
battle a man must use his reason in order to survive. In times of danger,
storm, and dearth the mind takes over where the heart leaves. But in times of
love, that is a time when a man’s soul is put to the test.”

Nash pinched
is brows. “You’re right of course.”

“I know about
your lady. She’s come a long way.”

“And brought
with her sad news of my father.” He went on to explain, his emotions mounting. “So
you see I must go back to England. I’ll take her with me, if she doesn’t leave
beforehand.”

“That would
be unwise,” Maldowney said. “You would be implicated and thrown into prison.”

His friend
spoke no truer words, for Nash had known the business his father had been
taking part in, a business that both worried him and caused him to admire his
father more than ever. “I would trade places with my father. No greater love,
remember?”

“Aye, I know.
But if you went back, what could you do for him if arrested yourself?” 

With a heavy sigh,
Nash looked up at the trees and shook his head. “I know you’re right. But I’m
angry with the truth.”

“Trust in the
Lord. Your friend, David, sounds like he is a wise man and shrewd when it comes
to the law. You say there is no firm evidence against your father. It may be he
has already been freed and you’ll have word of it in no time.”

“Indeed that
could be true. David is the best lawyer in Plymouth. The idea my father could
have been released by now comforts me.”

“Let us hope
you will receive that news soon, my friend. And that the lady and you will be
reconciled—at least in friendship if not in love.”

“Thank you,
Robert. But I do love her.” Nash put his fist against his heart. “It burns in
me like a fire. I’ve tried to change my feelings for her. I cannot. And then
she shows up, looking as beautiful as the first day I saw her. That fire grew. Yet
I showed myself bitter and resentful toward her.”

Maldowney
reached up and gripped Nash’s hand. “She will forgive you.”

* * *

Carne’s barn
stood on a rise of ground above Carroll Creek. Wispy willows shaded the water.
Mallards skirted along the surface. A gristmill’s wheel turned, while the
townspeople who strolled by, listened to the peaceful shower of water tumbling
down the spokes. 

One of the
largest barns in the county, with a rough-hewn pine floor and stables in the
rear for cattle and horses, Carne’s barn did not lack for room as a gathering
place. Lanterns affixed to the posts lit the interior in golden light. 

The barn was
full of people—farmers, laborers, tradesmen, and refugees from the wilderness.
Having seen to his horse, Nash walked inside. He weaved his way through the
crowd. He had hopes of seeing Rebecah.

Mrs.
Cottonwood and her daughters were present. He caught Drusilla’s gaze. She blushed
and with a shy smile lowered her eyes. Her mother prodded her into the crowd by
poking her hard with her finger, causing the poor girl to bump into Nash.

“Good evening,”
Drusilla said.

He thought
her mother’s behavior disgraceful. How embarrassed this child was, and how her
head had been filled with dreams of marrying him. 

“Evening,
Miss Drusilla. I’m surprised you’re not dancing with someone.”

She looked up
at him young and coy. “I was hoping you would ask me.”

“Well, at the
moment, I’m looking for someone. Besides, my injury prevents me from being a
good partner tonight.”

“May I ask
who you’re looking for?”

“No one you
know, Drusilla.”

“Oh, but I
think I do. Is it that English lady that came to your house? Mother and I…”

A young lad
was passing by. He was the same height and age as the girl, fair-haired and
anxious. Nash grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Tom! This
fair young lady needs a dancing partner. Dance with her, will you?”  

“You bet!” With
a broad smile, he took Drusilla’s hands and whirled her into the mix. A tune
started up and the men hurried to select their partners.

Nash looked
through the crowd. An ivory cheek. Coral lips. A turned head.

Rebecah stood
beside Theresa Boyd, looking as though she wished she were somewhere else.

* * *

 “Disgraceful.”

Rebecah
glanced over her shoulder. Mrs. Cottonwood sat a few yards away with her flock
of matrons. A deep frown creased her face. 

“I cannot
approve of such forward behavior. Visiting his house unaccompanied by a
chaperon is a sign of moral turpitude. Lud, to think what would have transpired
if Captain Nash had been at home. Girls brought up in the frontier have
stronger morals than that. Take my girls, for example. Each one deserves to
marry a rich landowner, and shall, even if it’s solely based on their good
character.” 

Theresa
leaned in. “Did you hear that?”

“I did.”
Rebecah sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be gone soon.”

“Of course it
matters. Come with me.” She looped her arm through Rebecah’s and turned.

“Ladies, may
I present my friend Rebecah Brent? Rebecah, this is Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Tinburgen,
the Mistress Derwood, and Mrs. Watson. You’ve met Mrs. Cottonwood. They have
lived in Fredericktown since before I was born. If there’s anything you want to
know these are the ladies to ask.”

Rebecah
curtsied, lifted her eyes to see the affront Theresa had caused. Each woman
frowned, except for the Widow Watson. She smiled.

“I’m sure I
could have learned a great deal from them, Theresa. But my stay here is short.”

“Oh, is it?”
Mrs. Cottonwood craned her neck. “Well, that is news indeed.”

“Yes, Miss
Rebecah is returning home, ladies.” Theresa drew Rebecah closer. “It’s such a
shame. But then one must determine just what
home
means.”

Theresa tossed
her head and hurried Rebecah away. The women were left with their mouths gaping. 

“Old
biddies,” Theresa said. “Not the widow though. She’s nice to everyone.”

* * *

He lost sight
of her. His heart sunk. Had she gone? He went toward the entrance and would
have gone out to find her, but a round of laughter caused him to halt. Clarke
and others were having the time of their lives. Between them, Nash saw Rebecah
smile. But her eyes spoke differently. How well he knew them, for he had spent
many an hour looking into them. Tonight they were forlorn, lost—because of him.

He went
toward her. Another man grabbed her hands, whirled her around, and when he let
go, she bumped into Nash.

“Are you
alright?” he asked.

She went to
leave, but he swung his arm around her waist and pulled her into a concealed
corner. 

“You mean to
run away from me again?”

“I don’t
belong here, remember? You said it was a mistake.” 

He looked
into her eyes. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.” He stepped closer. “Rebecah…”

“Mr. Clarke
has agreed to take me to Annapolis since there is no telling when the coach is
due back. We leave tomorrow. If there’s a letter you wish me to take home, I
shall.”

“I don’t want
you to take anything back. I want you to…”

“Jack!” Clarke
bounded up to them. “You cannot keep the lady to yourself.  She has a line of
men waiting to dance with her.”

Clarke turned
to Rebecah with a bow. “Ma’am, our captain is no dancing man. No offense meant.
Will you dance this reel with me?  Come on.”  He took her by the hand and
pulled her away. Into the commotion they went.

Jealousy seized
Nash, and he fought to contain it. He saw her laugh as Clarke spun her around. She
had not looked back, and he hated how it made him feel. Clarke had a belly full
of ale. It made him a poor partner, for he stumbled and dipped like an
infatuated schoolboy.

Nash
stiffened his jaw and glared.

* * *

Rebecah stood
where Clarke had left her. She looked over at Nash and met his eyes.

Did he not
know how much she yearned for him? Did he not realize she struggled over what
to do, desperate that he had not come to her?

She weaved
her way out of the crowd. Hurrying into the night, she went down the hill
toward the creek where the moon shone bright across the water. She stood on the
mossy bank where the cool darkness hid her. She wept silently, wiping her eyes
and looking up at the spangled sky.

Why hadn’t
things gone smooth?  She had found love and her world had fallen apart. Alone
in a strange country without family or the protection of a husband, beset by
loneliness, she regretted her journey.

Hearing
someone behind her, she gasped. She turned and saw Nash standing in the
moonlight with his hat in hand. Silence seized them both, and they stood
motionless staring at one another. A moment and he stepped forward, his breath
hurried, his look determined, desperate.

“You followed
me,” she said.

He stepped
closer. “I could tell you were upset and I became worried.”

“There was no
need to have troubled yourself.”

“You should
not go wandering in places you don’t know. Just beyond those trees, the bank is
steep. If you go any farther, you could fall in.”

She tossed
her head and a curl fell over her eyes. “I knew where I was,” she said, pushing
it back. 

“The creek is
known to have copperheads from time to time. Do you know what they are?”

“Some kind of
animal, I imagine.”

“They’re
snakes, Rebecah.”

She stared at
him a moment, a shiver passing over her. “Thank you for telling me. I shall be
sure to avoid it.” 

He came to
her. She saw heartache in his eyes.

“I never
meant to hurt you,” he whispered.

“Nor I you.
Doesn’t my coming to you prove it?”

“It tells me
you still love me.”

“You loved
me—once.”

“I still do.
I adore you.”

He touched her cheek. His arm went around her waist and
pulled her close. “Don’t leave,” he said. “Instead—marry me.”

Near the Potomac,
a German settler, his wife and children, finished breakfast. Still the scent of
fried eggs and bacon lingered in the rough-hewn cabin. Jonas Muller downed the
last of his black coffee, set it on the table, and kissed his lady’s cheek.

“I’ll be
hunting today, Karien. Dar is lots of deer and turkey in da woods dis season.”

“Easy for
you,
meine liebe
,” she replied. “I’ve got to clean da mattresses today.
Cold weather will be here soon and we don’t want weevils.”

“If I try,
Karien, you’ll only tell me I’m doing it wrong.”

“Dat is true.
You go on. I’ve got work to do.”

Jonas grabbed
his musket, looped his powder horn over his shoulder, and headed out the cabin
door.

“Don’t forget
to wear a cap,
liebe
.” Karien snatched it from the hook on the wall and
tossed it to her husband. “The wind is keen this morning.”

Jonas
squashed it tight upon his head, winked at Karien and strode out into the
sunlight.

Their son,
age two, sat on the floor playing with his sister Adele. Adele’s head bounced
from side to side and it made Gustav smile. Stretching her limbs, Adele stood
and handed him a wooden block. A stool sat beneath the window and she climbed
it. 

“Papa will
bring home a fat turkey, Adele,” Karien told the child.

“Mama, I see
someone in the woods.”

Karien looked
up from working her bread dough and wiped her hands along her muslin apron. A
knot of fear formed in the pit of her stomach.

“Come down
from da window, Adele.”  She helped her daughter back to the floor.  “Mama will
have a look.”

Karien gazed
into the world outside her window. The towering elms beyond showered the grass
with golden leaves. The sky above was blue as a robin’s egg. The stream beside
the cabin moved like a serpent down the hillside. She scanned the treeline. She
gasped and sprang away. 

“Oh my
kinder
!”
she cried. “Save them, God!”

She gathered little
Gustav into her arms and grabbed Adele’s hand. She moved the bed aside, took
the knife her husband kept underneath it and shoved the blade between the floorboards
until they gave way to the hiding place Jonas had made in anticipation of
Indian attacks. With trembling hands, Karien put the boards aside and then
reached for her children. Adele looked at her with frightened eyes. Gustav
sucked his fingers.

“Down, Adele.
Go down and stay. Keep your brother close.” 

Karien
reached inside the pocket of her dress and handed the children a bit of
sugarcane, hoping it would keep them quiet.

“Let us play
a game of hide and seek. You’re not to come out until Papa finds you.” She put
her finger against her lips. “So be as quiet as mice.”

Adele’s large
blue eyes filled. “Mama?”

“Do what Mama
says, Adele. Don’t make a sound.” 

Karien helped
Adele down, then Gustav. “Mama is going to put da boards back now. We’ve done
this before, remember? Be quiet until Papa finds you.”

With the
floor covered Karien slid the bed back in place. She pulled a musket off the
wall. Then she barred the door. Through the window, she saw Indians creep toward
the house. Muskets were in their hands, war paint on their faces. Their hair
blew back in the breeze. Their copper bodies glistened in the sunlight. They
screamed the war cry, and Karien felt her blood run cold.