Broken Pledge Page 4

  “Of course they are, but not without purpose. They hold vendettas only against those who wish them harm. Brother, it is the oddest thing – they have potlatches, which are rather like a Carson ball. They set aside their vendettas, fully enjoy the company of their enemies, and then renew their distaste the instant the potlatch has ended. Furthermore, they make sport of slipping into the sleeping quarters of an enemy, touching him and then escaping. Laughing Rain teaches his son very well. Twice the boy awoke me and sped away. They call the boy ‘No Name.’ He has an English name, naturally, but his Cherokee mother has not yet decided on his Indian name. I like Laughing Rain very much.”

  “I believe you do.”

  “Never have I found a friend so...so extraordinarily friendly and helpful. Once I explained John’s need of a wife, he took us straight away to the Harrodstown settlement and the Lewis family.”

  “Do you mean he went himself...into a settlement?”

  “Indeed. He put on the clothing of a trapper, bound his hair, donned a dreadful cap made of beaver pelts, and not one suspected he was Cherokee. I cannot recall ever enjoying myself quite so much.”

  IN THE MUSIC ROOM, John still stood near the window. “Naturally, Papa was greatly grieved over the loss of my mother. He tried hard not to let on, for my sake, but by the time we reached the village, he had begun to stray in his thinking.”

  “How frightening,” said Adam.

  John left the window and sat back down. “I thought he’d gone mad, but Laughing Rain took us to a place where hot water flows freely from the earth, mixes with a cold brook and forms a cloud of rising steam. He took Papa into the water, sat him on a rock and left him all alone in the mist where I could not see him. But I could hear him, and Adam, after a time he cried. I had never heard my father cry and wanted to go to him, but Laughing Rain prevented it until nearly nightfall. The next morning, Papa awoke to find one side of his face feeling unfamiliar, and he repeatedly tried to brush a string from his ear.”

  “A string?”

  “There was no string.”

  Adam stood up, removed his jacket, carefully laid it across the top of the harpsichord and sat back down. “A stroke, then?”

  “I think so. The numbness subsided, the string went away and as his body healed, so did his mind. Nevertheless, on that day I vowed I would always keep him with me, even if it means staying in Virginia.”

  “You would give up Polly for him?”

  “No, I would marry her and bring her here.”

  “I see. You really must tell me all about her.”

  “Well, Laughing Rain said Polly saved him from the jaws of a bear and I don’t doubt it. I tell you, we could have used that girl in the war; she is an excellent shot. When we arrived at the Lewis cabin in Harrodstown, her mother was beside herself with worry. Polly had gone off alone and not returned.”

  “They let her go into the wilderness alone?”

  John chuckled, “Let her? They’ve yet to find a way to stop her. She’s the eldest child of the Quaker Ezekiel Lewis and his wife, Nancy. Mister Lewis once confided that, had he imagined he would father Polly, he’d have given more careful consideration to the Quaker vow of celibacy. Yet, when she sings...”

  “Yes, go on.”

  “I tell you her eyes are a radiant blue when she sings and her voice is so magnificent, it melts the heart of even the stoutest man.”

  “I see, and are her eyes as blue as Hester’s?”

  “Yes. I mean...no.” John closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of his chair. “Oh, Adam, what am I to do? Can’t life be simple, even for one day?”

  URIAH ADDED A NEW LOG to the hearth in the study. “So greatly alarmed was Laughing Rain when he heard Polly was missing, he hurried off to find her. We were in Shawnee land, you see. Yet, it was not Shawnee but Choctaw who were about to lay a knife to her scalp. Laughing Rain shouted and the Choctaw quickly dispersed.”

  Caleb sat on the edge of his chair, glued to his brother’s every word. “They released her unharmed?”

  “They did. Any other woman would have cried inconsolably, but not Polly. Polly was furious and wanted to give chase, so John forced her on his horse. I wish you had been there, brother. From that very moment, it was obvious Polly was taken with John and he with her. Although we left often to survey more land, John always brought us back to visit the Lewis family, and I am convinced theirs is a love few have opportunity of finding.”

  KENTUCKY

  He was a man of average height with high cheekbones, a square jaw, brown eyes, a crooked smile, and long dark hair. He was the Cherokee, Laughing Rain, and he held no personal vendetta against the Shawnee. In fact, he admired their firm stand against settlers coming down the Ohio River. Still, it was rumored that the Shawnee had become more vicious, and on this day, the Cherokee hid in the trees to watch.

  The Shawnee raid was swift and merciless, their white captive was rendered helpless then set ablaze. But it was not the screams, nor the stench of burning flesh which captivated Laughing Rain. Rather, it was the growing look of horror on the face of a young Shawnee brave. When it was over, the fifteen-year-old Shawnee spoke few words. But they were the words of shame that drove the older warriors away.

  Then, from deep in the forest, Laughing Rain watched as the Shawnee, Tecumseh, considered the remains of the white man and then mournfully bowed his head.

  CHAPTER 3

  In the blue-black of pre-dawn, Uriah set Sparky on his saddle, quietly led his horse to the end of the lane and then stopped to glare at his waiting son. “I had hoped to spend this winter in the comfort of a warm hearth,” he said, handing the dog to John, checking the tightness of his cinch and then mounting his horse.

  Seated on his chestnut mare, John patiently waited until his father was comfortable before handing Sparky back. Nudging his horse forward, he leisurely turned down the road toward town. “Wasn’t it you who made me vow never to go off without you?”

  “Only to prevent you from being alone when the fever comes. Tell me, why do we escape from Mahala like thieves in the night? From whom do we hide?”

  “I cannot imagine what you mean. I merely have a desire to see Richmond.”

  “In the dark?” Uriah asked.

  “It will not be dark long. Besides, I enjoy the crisp, refreshing air of a fine fall morning.”

  “To you it is crisp and refreshing, to me it is cold.”

  John halted his horse and looked back. “You could turn back, you know.”

  “What, and never discover from whom you hide?” Uriah allowed his horse to walk right past his son’s.

  “You’ll come then, even if I mean to see Williamsburg, Jamestown, and Yorktown?”

  This time Uriah halted. “Yorktown, but why?”

  “To see if MacGreagor is about. I’ve not seen the old Scotsman since before the war.”

  Uriah urged his horse on. “I’d not call him ‘old’ to his face, if I were you. Even with one arm, he has the strength of any two good men. Is MacGreagor the only reason?”

  “No, I hope to make the acquaintance of a scarlet woman.”

  Uriah watched the side of his son’s face. “Tell me, have I somehow been remiss in your education?”

  “In what way?”

  “Have I never mentioned the peril a man might encounter in the company of a virtueless woman?”

  “You have, and often,” John answered, admiring the autumn colors as the sun began to brighten the sky. “But I do not seek her company. She is mother to a Patriot I held as he died. I have a word of comfort for her, and I’ve neglected my duty far too long.”

  “I see,” Uriah shrugged and squinting as the sun peeked above the horizon. “Yorktown it is then. But I would still like to know precisely whom at Mahala are we avoiding?”

  John glanced at his father, decided to ignore the question and turned his attention back to the landscape. The dirt road followed the tree-lined bends in the river, but on the other side of the road, a patchwork
of half-harvested tobacco fields were spread across rolling hills. The pre-war wealth of Virginia showed in her huge houses, most of which looked just as they did before the war. But occasionally, the land was marred with a burned house, an over-grown garden, and an idle field.

  “Papa, I’ve two matters in need of your wise counsel,” John said at last.

  “First, what are we to give Maralee on her wedding day?”

  “A gun with which to shoot her husband.”

  “You cannot mean that.”

  “Of course I can, did you not hear the man? He speaks nonsense.”

  When Sparky sat up and barked, John moved his horse closer and let the dog jump from his father’s lap into his. “What sort of nonsense?”

  “Mister Dulane Ashfield believes the American Empire will soon tire of its poverty and beg assistance from the British.”

  “Papa, he is not alone in that assessment.”

  “No, but he need not say it with such delight. Why my brother allows Maralee to marry the most presumptuous man of our acquaintance is beyond comprehension.”

  “You don’t think to interfere, do you?”

  “Why not? Caleb refuses to.”

  “Papa, Maralee loves Dulane. In matters such as these, it is unconscionable to interfere.”

  “When disaster is inevitable, I find it unconscionable not to.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  Uriah sighed, “I was hoping you might have a suggestion.”

  “I would never take part in such trickery.”

  “Indeed? Do you deny putting tree sap on La Rue’s saddle while he slept?”

  “I was younger then.”

  “Aye, all of six months.”

  As soon as they approached the Dunlop Plantation, John urged his horse to gallop, quickly passing the tobacco fields and the lane leading to the expansive house.

  “I doubt she saw you,” Uriah said when he caught up.

  “Who?” John asked, slowing his horse again.

  “You are well aware Hester Wyley lives in that house with her Aunt and Uncle Dunlop? And it is she you avoid, am I right?”

  John drew in a long breath, puffed his cheeks and slowly let it out. “The second matter which concerns me, and gravely so, is finding words of comfort for the mother of a dead Patriot.”

  “Are you refusing to answer my question?”

  “Will you give up asking anytime soon?”

  “No,” Uriah answered.

  “I thought not. However, just now, I am beside myself with worry. Suppose the woman asks if her son died for naught?”

  Uriah studied John’s troubled expression. “Tell her the truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “Tell her men who begin wars are rarely the ones to fight them. Our beloved King George III, who has yet to set foot in America, waged three wars in this land and no doubt intends a fourth.”

  “And this I should say to comfort her?”

  Uriah pulled his hat forward to protect his eyes from the sun, loosely wrapped his reigns around his saddle horn and crossed his arms. “Death in war has no comfort. How could it? Comfort implies pardon, and war is unpardonable.”

  “Even if it was the only way to gain the land west of the mountains?”

  “It was not the only way. True, the king forbid our settling the land, but he would have relented and far more quickly than you think.”

  “Quickly? He won the land in the war of 1763, yet, still forbid settlements in 1776. Quickly has long since passed,” said John.

  “My point precisely. In thirteen years he’d not found a way to tax the Indians. A king without happy revenue is not a happy king.”

  John thoughtfully lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Tax the Indians? I admit I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Few have, I venture to say. So you see, in time, the king would have relented.”

  “I imagine so, in time.”

  “We needn’t have gone to war, and now what have we? Poverty! Even the wealthy cry out for lack of a market.”

  “So now I am to pity the rich? Papa, they held tight to their wealth while we fought without proper weapons or the means to fill our bellies?”

  “That they did...most of them. However, they did not see this as their war and believed the Sons of Liberty were wrong. They did not suffer unbearable oppression at the hands of the British, they did not feel the lash, nor were they taxed unreasonably.”

  John’s body rhythmically rocked in his saddle as the horse sauntered around the next bend. “Not unreasonably for the wealthy.”

  “Might I remind you, British taxes protected our ships at sea, provided a reliable post and paid for governors?”

  “Aye, British governors who sided always with the king, even unto billeting redcoats in our houses.”

  “The king would have rescinded that command as well, once the smuggling stopped.”

  “Indeed? And would he have willingly taken back the expense of housing and feeding his army? I think not,” John argued, his voice rising. “Have you forgotten how the king commanded his militia to search our property without regard for our women? Bloody redcoats were everywhere; their revenue ships were in our ports, their courts were unwilling to take testimony against them, and...”

  “And now there is not a redcoat in sight,” Uriah interrupted.

  “Aye, we’ve beaten them and sent them home!”

  “I doubt a lady of the evening will find comfort in that.”

  At first, John glared at his father. Then slowly, he began to smile. “I see your point.”

  “I thought you might. The British paid handsomely for their favors, far more than did Americans.”

  “Indeed they did. In fact, they paid far more for nearly everything.”

  “Perhaps winning the war was not so clever as we thought.”

  “Aye, but...good heavens,” John said, halting his horse. The heart of Richmond sat on a hill and near the bank of the river, burned warehouses and blackened docks marked the place where scores of men once moved huge tobacco hogsheads onto ships bound for England. Scorched yards, crumbled walls, and lone standing hearths dotted the hillside where families once lived. John respectfully removed his hat. “I had no idea it was so bad.”

  “Have you not seen Richmond since the war?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “But you passed through on your way home from war.”

  “I must have, but Papa, the fever consumed me so I’ve lost nearly a year. One day, I was at war in South Carolina, the next, home in Virginia. I only recall praying to die.”

  “Now that is a prayer gratefully unanswered. But son, I can wait no more. Do we avoid Hester Wyley?”

  John quickly put his hat back on and started his horse. “Avoid her, why would I do that?”

  “Because the woman has designs on you and intends to be your wife.”

  “Yes, well, she left me for another and I find that unforgivable.”

  Uriah lightly kicked the side of his horse and hurried to catch up. “Polly will be pleased to hear that.”

  “Indeed, and how will Polly know?”

  “She’ll know when you return to the Territory and marry her. And why is it you become annoyed at the mention of her name?”

  “Because you mention her name so relentlessly. Papa, are you quite certain you do not have Polly hidden somewhere, complete with wedding attire, should I somehow, suddenly desire her?”

  Uriah carefully turned his horse onto the narrow, newly built suspended river bridge. “Of course not – I did not think to.”

  “I am relieved. Yet another woman making demands on me is not what I need.”

  “Are you going to take her to wife?”

  “Who?”

  “Hester,” Uriah answered, listing to the pleasant sound of horse’s hooves on wood. When he reached the other side, he halted to wait for his son.

  John looked distressed. “I don’t know,” he muttered, passing right by his fathe
r. “I cannot think clearly. The truth be known, we leave Mahala to avoid the opinion of the entire Carson family on the matter.”

  “And will you hear my opinion?”

  “Have you another besides Polly Lewis?” John asked.

  Uriah puffed his cheeks and moved on. “Your point is well taken. In that case, I will hold my tongue.”

  “A happy thought indeed,” John said, rolling his eyes.

  “I HOPE TO HAVE LOTS of children,” Hester said, following Rose into Mahala’s small sitting room. Colorfully decorated, it was in this room that the Carson women often tended their reading or sewing. Hester chose a blue, tall-backed chair, sat down and then carefully arranged the folds of her black widow’s dress. “But now, I don’t believe I want any. Leela Jones, of my Uncle Dunlop’s employ, is so very uneasy now that her time nears. Can you guess what she told me?”

  “What?” Rose asked, getting her embroidery out of a basket, curling one leg under, and then sitting down on a matching blue davenport.

  “She reports she cannot sleep on her stomach. Why do you think that is?”

  Rose quickly glanced at the sincerity on Hester’s face, “Well, perhaps she fears crushing the child.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. It is completely unimportant now anyway, my having children I mean.”

  “You need not be so distressed, I’m quite certain John did not mean to slight you. Perhaps he mistook your meaning.”

  “I cannot think how he could have. I made it quite clear he was to call on me at precisely four o’clock yesterday afternoon.”

  Setting her sewing aside, Rose paused to push a loose pin back into her blonde curls. “I see. Tell me, did your last husband object when you made demands on him?”

  “Demands?”

  “What I mean is, had you insisted he come at a particular time, would he have minded?”

  “He did not complain that I recall,” Hester answered.

  “I see. My dear, I fear you will find my cousin somewhat different in that regard. Carson men mind very much being told what to do.”