Dangerous deceptions, p.21
Dangerous Deceptions, page 21
Stop! She shook herself, blushing at her own wantonness as she scrambled to her feet. She shouldn’t be thinking such shameful thoughts!
She hurried from her bedchamber and went outdoors in search of Lanneika. Outside, she noted the shadows lengthening. Perhaps Lanneika had already gone for the day. But, no, Catherine found her behind the shed struggling to balance several heavy logs she’d pulled from what remained of the stack of firewood Jack had left for her.
“Let me help you!” Catherine cried, hurrying toward the smaller girl.
Grinning, Lanneika glanced up. “I strong. I carry.”
“You are not as strong as I.” Catherine knelt to tug at an especially heavy log. But found it wouldn’t budge. She stood back with a frown on her face, realizing that despite her earlier protests to the contrary, she did need a man around, if for nothing more than to do the heavy lifting and toting. Heaving a frustrated sigh, she looked about for a smaller piece of wood to take in for the night.
Lanneika had already taken her load inside and was now hurrying back outdoors. “One more I get.”
“Very well.” Catherine cast a last glance at the sparse pieces of wood scattered about on the ground before she also turned to go back inside.
How soon would it be before all the firewood Jack had chopped was gone, she wondered? She supposed she could say something to him or Adam when she saw them next Sabbath. They always asked how she fared, and Adam and Abigail always renewed their invitation for her to join them at Harvest Hill. Or . . . she could say something to John Fuller, as he was always asking if she needed anything, but she hated to take advantage of his good nature, or for him to get in the habit of taking care of her since she had no intention of making that a permanent arrangement. It dawned on her then that her high spirits about Noah were beginning to sag. How much longer before he appeared at her door, she wondered irritably? Didn’t he know she needed his help right now?
The next afternoon, after the children had gone for the day, Catherine wearily decided to spend the few remaining hours of daylight turning over the soil in her garden. It would be time to plant soon, and, with the wide stretch of land Victor and Jack had cleared at the edge of the woods, she would be able to have a much larger garden this year. She had hoped Noah would be here to till the soil for her, but as he had not yet appeared, that grueling task still lay undone at her feet.
She made her way into the shed in search of the battered old hoe Adam had left behind. Finding it, she headed back out, her eyes on the ground as she thought ahead to the backbreaking work before her. Nearing the garden gate, she at last glanced up only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw the huge pile of neatly stacked firewood rising before her. Firewood, which had not been there the night before!
Dropping the hoe, she turned and ran back into the house where she knew Lanneika was busy stirring up another of her concoctions for Catherine’s supper that night.
“Lanneika! Lanneika!” She jerked open the front door. “Where did all the firewood come from?”
Lanneika looked up. “I not know. It there this morning when I come.”
Catherine’s brow puckered. “If it was there this morning, that means . . . someone must have brought it during the night or very early this morning. Did you not see anyone when you arrived today?”
The Indian girl shook her head, then turned back to stirring whatever was in the pot suspended over the flames.
Confusion still etched on her face, Catherine retraced her steps back outdoors. It must have been Noah, she decided, her spirits lifting a mite. Perhaps he had come by late last night. Perhaps he had hidden one of his packages in the shed and noticed she was nearly out of firewood. How very like him to want to help her! Perhaps it was quite late when he came, and he had not knocked on her door because he hadn’t seen a light. That was it. Noah had been here, dear, sweet, thoughtful Noah. He had come at last!
She picked up the hoe she’d dropped and moved toward the stretch of treeless land where Jack and Victor had meant to plant corn and squash this year. And with a lighter heart set about the difficult task of breaking up the clods of hard dirt, pausing on occasion to toss aside a pebble or misplaced piece of shell. One long hour into her work, she straightened, her blue-green eyes gazing out across the large area still to be turned over. There were days when it seemed the work would never end, and yet, it would soon be easier, she told herself. When Noah was there to help her, every task would seem lighter. His teasing banter would cheer her, his merry laughter carry her through the day.
She turned with fresh resolve to her task and worked until again the shadows lengthened, and the sun began to dip lower in the sky. The tempting scent of whatever it was Lanneika was preparing for her dinner drifted toward her on the breeze, which was also beginning to turn chilly.
Lanneika would be leaving soon, and once more she would return to her empty house and eat her meal in silence, her heart aching for the company of the one man she truly loved and had longed to be with her entire life. Though it had been just over a month since they’d buried Victor, at times she felt guilty that she had almost ceased to think of him. Noah becoming her husband was all that filled her thoughts and dreams now. She should still be mourning Victor, but how could she make herself feel something she did not?
Dear God, her worrisome thoughts turned heavenward as she sank to her knees right where she was. Dear Lord, she prayed, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands folded before her, please, please forgive me for no longer mourning my husband Victor, but dear Lord, please, please let nothing keep Noah from me! Not now, not after all we’ve been through. We deserve to be together and to be happy at last; truly we do.
Please make haste to send him to me soon, dear Lord. I need him now. Thank you for your many blessings, Lord. I beseech you to enfold Victor and Charity in your arms forevermore. Amen. Oh, and, please, dear Lord, help me to rein in my wanton thoughts and to behave in a seemly manner when I am out amongst the townsfolk . . . at least until Noah and I become man and wife. Thank you, Lord.
When the aching muscles in Catherine’s shoulders relaxed, and her thoughts and mind settled again into stillness, she opened her eyes but was at once startled to see some yards away from her at the edge of the forest what she at first thought was a vision. A vision of an Indian sitting astride an enormous white stallion!
Not taking her eyes from the image, she slowly stood up. She raised a hand to shield her gaze from the long rays of the setting sun that shone around the vision like a halo. Even in the glare, she could see that the Indian brave atop the horse was an especially tall man. His long muscular legs were covered with doeskin breeches. His powerfully sculpted chest and arms were bare except for the animal skin that lay draped across his back. She felt her breath quicken with a mixture of fear and alarm. What did the Indian want?
Something seemed to draw her toward him, but fear kept her rooted to the spot where she stood. Because the glaring sunlight shone so brightly in her eyes, she could not clearly see the Indian’s features, but she could plainly see that his piercing black eyes were looking straight at her.
Suddenly the spell was broken when Lanneika ran from the front of the house toward the Indian brave sitting astride the enormous white horse. Catherine watched as the powerful man stretched one strong arm down to encircle the girl’s lithe body, and in a single swift motion, lifted her up and settled her in front of him on the horse. Then he pressed his heel into the beast’s side. The mighty steed whirled around, and in a flash of flowing white mane and tail the vision disappeared into the woods.
Catherine stood transfixed. Who might the Indian brave be? Lanneika’s beloved? Her brother, or perhaps; a friend from her village come to fetch her? Whoever he was, she decided, blinking herself back to her surroundings, he was magnificent. And the sight she’d witnessed between the pair of them just now struck her as breathtakingly beautiful.
CATHERINE AROSE UNUSUALLY early the following morning. Still fresh in her mind was the memory of the magnificent Indian brave sitting astride his enormous white stallion. For some reason, she had to know who the man was. She was up, dressed, and waiting for Lanneika when the girl quietly let herself into the house.
“Oh!” said Lanneika, surprise evident in her tone when she spotted Catherine busily stirring something in the pot over the flames. “You early up.”
Catherine grinned. Lanneika’s manner of speaking continued to bring a smile to her lips. “Yes, I am early up. Come, I have already made our breakfast.” She filled two trenchers with steaming hot oatmeal, then led the way to the board table where she’d already laid out two wooden spoons.
Lanneika hesitantly slid onto one of the backless benches, no doubt feeling somewhat ill-at-ease over being served by her employer instead of the other way around.
Catherine took her place at the table and began to eat. “I thought we might talk a bit before the children come this morning,” she began pleasantly.
Chewing small bites of oatmeal, Lanneika’s dark eyes remained fixed on Catherine’s face.
Catherine wasn’t quite sure how to begin. She’d never asked the girl any questions of a personal nature before. “Is . . . your village close by?”
Lanneika shook her head, then, shrugged. “Sometime close, sometime long way. Not long way when I come on horse.”
“Did you come on horseback this morning?”
Lanneika nodded.
“I don’t believe you’ve ever told me the name of your tribe.”
“My tribe Warrastanundas.”
“Oh.” Catherine didn’t attempt to pronounce the convoluted name. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“Many brothers, many sisters.”
“I see.” Catherine hesitated, the one question she longed to ask burning like a flame in her mind. Why she felt she had to know the answer seemed quite silly to her, yet for some reason, she fervently wanted to know. “Well, I . . . happened to see you leave last evening with an Indian brave. Was he, perhaps . . . one of your brothers?”
Lanneika’s face brightened. “Phyrahawque. He brother.”
Catherine leaned forward. “Farea-huck?”
Lanneika laughed at Catherine’s pronunciation of the odd name. “Phy-ra-haw-que.” The girl tried to sound out the word as Catherine often did with her.
Catherine’s brow furrowed. It appeared Lanneika was saying a word that sounded very like ‘Fire-hawk,’ although she knew that could not be right. Still, she tried it. “Phy-ra-hawk?”
Lanneika’s shiny dark head nodded vigorously. “Phyrahawque!” Her dark eyes twinkled merrily.
“Phyrahawque.” Catherine repeated, more strongly this time. “The name suits him,” she said, thinking to herself that, indeed, it did. She’d never seen a more arresting, powerful-appearing man in her life. Why, if she were a young Indian maid, Lanneika’s magnificent brother Phyrahawque would be the very man she’d set her cap for!
Chapter 21
“WAS THE FIREWOOD I left sufficient for your needs?” John Fuller asked when he stopped by the following Sabbath to escort Catherine to services.
John’s question startled her, it having never occurred to her that her benefactor might be him. “Yes, it was . . . or, rather, is. Thank you, John. I had no idea who had done me such a kindness.” She smiled up into his warm brown eyes as they set out to walk to the meetinghouse. It had also surprised her when he rapped so early that morning at her door. Typically, he only walked her home from services, not to.
After Reverend Buck had intoned his final amen that day, Catherine’s entire family, Adam and Abigail, the Morgans, Nancy and Jack, and John, all made the return walk home to her small house. Once there, the men took chairs outdoors to smoke and talk, while the women set about preparing a late afternoon meal. It was an especially warm March day, and everyone was enjoying the balmy breeze and sunny sky.
“I see you and John Fuller have become a couple,” said Abigail, smiling her approval.
Catherine ducked her head. Why did everyone, including John Fuller, seem bent on linking her with him?
“How ’bout it, missy?” Margaret teased as she floured her hands in preparation to pound a lump of dough into a sheet of flatbread.
Nancy directed a speaking look at Catherine, then said quietly to the others, “Our Catherine is not one to talk openly of her feelin’s.”
Catherine rewarded her friend with a look of gratitude, then to escape further questions headed bravely up the ladder Victor had built to the loft. Nancy would need apples for the pie she was making.
Nancy hurried up the steps behind her. “You remarrying is a topic of much concern these days,” she said in a low tone.
“Well, I’ve no intention of marrying John Fuller,” Catherine whispered. The two made sufficient noise as they dug in the barrels of foodstuffs to conceal the sound of their voices.
“I know you are waiting for Noah to appear at your door,” Nancy said, not in an accusing way.
“I am certain he will come, Nancy.”
“You know Adam has no use for Noah. In fact, he is dead set against you marrying him. He means to forward Tom York’s suit.” Nancy glanced at Catherine as if to gauge her reaction to this. “Tom is a good man; he and Jack get along very well.”
“Nancy, please. You know I have eyes for no one but Noah. Now that we are both free, surely Adam cannot think I would be receptive to anyone save Noah.”
“Have you seen him?”
They walked to a barrel of dried peas, into which Nancy dipped the empty gourd she carried.
“No. But, he will come. I am certain of it.”
Nancy straightened. “In the meantime, you appear to be encouraging John Fuller and Jonathan Reed. And we’ve also heard talk about Ed . . . ”
Catherine took umbrage. “I am not encouraging them! They just . . . appear at my door, and I . . . let them in. I am not encouraging them!” She turned and fled across the room, the loose floorboards creaking beneath her feet.
Once the meal was finally ready, the men pulled two of the long board tables together and they all gathered around to eat their fill of the tasty pork-and-vegetable stew and top it off with Nancy’s delicious apple pie. The talk was lively, and, though Catherine was growing increasingly agitated over the state of her affairs, she managed to join in with the others and enjoy the company and laughter, which she had sorely missed of late. Most especially, she enjoyed hearing Abigail talk about little Eli. How she longed for a babe of her own.
Before the meal concluded, a rap sounded at the door. When Adam rose to answer the summons, Ed Henley stepped inside.
Awkward silence filled the room until Adam invited the somewhat embarrassed young man to join them. “You’re welcome to join us, Ed! Ethan,” he addressed the Morgan boy, “scoot over and make room at your end.”
“Please, do join us.” Catherine remembered her manners. She rose to fetch another trencher, but Abby was closer to the shelf that held them, so she handled the task.
Finding himself seated on the bench directly opposite John Fuller seemed to distress Ed. To put him at ease, Adam drew him into conversation, asking if he’d yet started his tobacco seedlings this year.
“Coming up nicely,” the young man replied, his gray eyes darting from Catherine to John Fuller and back again.
“Be sure to cover your new plants with brush to protect ’em from a late frost,” Adam instructed. “Not unusual to get a snowfall as late as April ’round here.”
“Here you are, Ed.” Abigail set a trencher full of steaming hot stew before him. “Adam, send the flatbread to this end of the table.”
The newcomer wasted no time digging into the food, and, in mere seconds, his presence was no longer noticed. Except by Catherine. And, probably John. And Adam.
When the meal concluded, the men again gathered outdoors to smoke and sip the last of their ale while the women cleared away the table and scoured the soiled trenchers. When Catherine stepped outdoors, a nod of Adam’s head indicated he’d like a private word with her.
They walked past the men toward the shed in back. Adam made a favorable comment in regard to the lean-to, which he hadn’t seen since Jack and Victor enclosed it.
“We call it a shed now,” Catherine replied, grinning. The setting sun glancing off her auburn hair sparkled with glints of gold. The excitement of the day had brought a becoming blush to her cheeks.
“Your beauty has returned, Cat,” Adam said. “I confess Abby and I were reluctant to leave you here alone after Victor was gone.” He paused, directing a long gaze out over the stretch of land his sister had begun to till. “But, you appear to be faring well enough.”
Catherine looked up at her brother. She was especially thankful he was here with her in the New World, a frightening and unpredictable land where healthy young men could be felled by arrows, where houses were tossed about by strong winds and newborn babies struck dead. She wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to the wilderness life, or if some part of her would always remain anxious and afraid; or perhaps she simply needed Noah with her to calm her fears and keep her safe. “I’m settling in,” she murmured.
“You cannot remain alone forever, Cat. You must remarry. You’ve a good-sized house here, with only you in it. Rather surprises me Argall hasn’t insisted you take in another family now that Jack and Nancy are gone.”
“No one has said anything about that to me. Perhaps because I run the only school in Jamestown and require additional space.”
“Perhaps.”
“To my knowledge,” she added, “no ships full of homeless settlers has recently docked.”
