Courting Morrow Little: A Novel (23 page)

"Do you forgive me-for my father's people?"

The humble question, now thrice asked, seemed to resound
to the far corners of the room. Her lips parted in answer, but
no sound came. She had a keen awareness of her own thudding
heart. The pressure of his hands. The warmth in his eyes. Below,
the frolic seemed to fade away.

"Yes"

Before the word even left her lips, she felt an unburdening
deep inside her, a telling softening and healing. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and she sensed he was as moved as she. But
the poignancy of the moment was broken when a footfall on
the stair sounded and Jemima's strident voice rang out. With a
gasp, Morrow stepped away, fleeing the dark room and pulling
the door shut behind her.

"Well, it's about time I found you!" Jemima lingered on the
bottom step, bedecked in red calico and a poke bonnet. "Major
McKie's asking for you"

The unwelcome words had a numbing effect, and Morrow
blinked back tears before coming downstairs. Taking a deep
breath, she ushered her friend outside while fighting the urge
to look back, to make sure she'd shut the door to her room. She
mustn't give anything away, no matter how rattled she felt.

"Morrow, you all right?"

She ignored Jemima's probing, greeting people as they arrived. Moments before, she'd decided to decline the dancing.
Her excuse was that she felt a bit poorly, hardly an exaggeration.
She must avoid McKie at all costs. She simply wanted to sit on
a bench near the bonfire, her eye on the cabin to make sure no
one entered.

Nearby the major was speaking with her father. Her attention
shifted from them to a militiaman unloading a barrel of cider from a wagon and another hefting a large sack of chestnuts for
roasting. The barn doors were open, and she could see the tables
laden with food, hear the sweet strains of a fiddle. Soon the
clearing between the cabin and barn was filled with folks, mostly
couples, in high spirits despite the swirling snow. Absently Morrow watched the flakes shake down and lay like lace upon her
shawl, her thoughts on the attic, far from the festivities.

"Miss Little, you're looking like a Christmas angel:"

Distracted as she was, she hadn't noticed the major at her
elbow. Why was it, she wondered, that he always managed to
make a simple compliment sound excessive? She thanked him
and threaded her arm through Jemima's, afraid to be alone with
him.

"I'd like to be your partner for supper, if you've not been
spoken for," he said.

She simply nodded, wondering if Red Shirt watched her from
upstairs. Once she thought she saw his silhouette, but when she
looked again, it was gone.

The evening passed in a sort of trance. She was mindful of
saying and doing the expected things but enjoying nothing,
watching the slant of the moon to judge the time, finding reasons to return to the cabin. The bitter weather seemed to cooperate, calling a halt to the festivities earlier than planned.
Half a dozen wagons pulled out of the yard and groaned as their
wheels crushed the powdery snow, and the soldiers went about
fetching their horses.

Suddenly McKie was at her father's side, his ruddy face perplexed. "I'm afraid I'm missing my horse"

Pa studied him for a moment and coughed hard into his
handkerchief. "Your fine gelding? Perhaps he simply came unhobbled"

Standing near, Morrow watched as Pa took a lantern and
headed past the paddock, the major in his wake. She inched
closer to the porch and waved goodbye to those leaving, wishing
Lizzy had come. Her friend had been wise to stay put at the fort,
heavy with child as she was. A few Clays were in attendance,
Lysander and Robbie tarrying longest. The sight of them, a girl
on each one's arm, was the one glad note of the night. Perhaps
Robbie had finally given up on her and sought solace elsewhere.
Not once all evening had he spoken to her.

"Morrow Mary, I thought you'd mind your manners and ask
me to stay the night like last time," Jemima told her, a rebuke in
her gaze. "Don't you remember? 'Twas that frolic right before
you went to Philadelphia:'

The mere suggestion engulfed her with panic. "B-but the
weather. . " she stammered. "You'd best make a start for the fort.
The Tates have opened their cabin and barn to any who want to
stay the night there, and it's only a few miles from here:"

Jemima looked down at the gathering snow, her black boots
dusted white. "Maybe you're right. I'd hate to be snowed in here
till spring"

She turned away, leaving Morrow to breathe a thankful prayer.
Ifonly the remainder would do the same, she thought. The crowd
dispersed slowly, most traveling in wagons and bearing pitchpine torches to brighten the dusk-all but half a dozen officers
who waited for Major McKie. The saber points of their rifles
glinted harshly in the light of the fading fire, and she began
backing away from them, shivering.

From the shadows McKie cursed and followed Pa into the
barn to borrow a horse. Apparently his fine gelding was nowhere
to be found.

At the cabin door Morrow waited till all was quiet, the yard
bare, before going inside. She took the steps slowly, feeling an
unmistakable emptiness even before she entered her room. The buffalo coat-gone. The weapons along the wall-gone. The far
window-slightly ajar. Weary, she lay down on her bed, fully
clothed, her head on the pillow where his had once lain. The
masculine scent of him still lingered ... made her feel lost.

In time she heard Pa's footfall on the stair, and his shadow
filled the doorway. Long moments passed as he pieced together
the obvious. Did he think she was sleeping? Or did he sense her
heart was so full she couldn't speak? Coughing, he withdrew.

A bitter breeze wafted through the open window, but she
didn't want to shut it, as if doing so would shut away the memory
of what had happened here. She wanted to hold on to the sweet
feeling of forgiveness a little longer.

Slowly she pulled the colorful quilt around her, curling up on
her side, throat tight. She dashed her tears dry with a corner of
the quilt. The realization that Red Shirt had taken McKie's fine
horse almost made her smile.

Would McKie never look away from her? She'd worn her plainest dress-a chestnut wool gown and prim bonnet that made
her look sallow, Pa said. She didn't dare tell him she did so in a
desperate effort to stem the major's ardor, a bit amused when
Jemima told her how fetching it was. 'Twas the first Sabbath of
the New Year, and they'd sped through the snow in the colonial cutter to reach Red River Station. Every pew in the frigid
blockhouse was filled with a great many coughing, sniffling congregants, but she hardly noticed. All she felt was McKie's eyes
on her, conveying shameful things that couldn't be uttered. Stiff
with embarrassment, she watched Pa remove his Bible from the
pulpit and resume his tortured hacking.

As the service ended and folks shuffled out into the bitter
winter's afternoon, Morrow noticed Robbie Clay along the back
wall, hat in hand, tarrying as if waiting to speak to her. But
McKie intervened, asking if she'd received an invitation to supper. Before she could answer, an officer came and whispered in
his ear, and he excused himself, leaving her alone. When she
looked up again, Robbie had gone, and it was Lizzy who stood
by her side, issuing an invitation.

"Morrow, you and your pa should come eat with us;' she
urged.

Gratefully, Morrow accepted, knowing Pa needed a rest and
a warm meal before going home.

Later, as Abe and Pa sat sipping cider and talking in low tones at the trestle table, she helped Lizzy with the meal, marveling at
the change in her friend. Dear, devoted Lizzy was lean no longer. From the voluminous look of her, she'd not last till spring.
Morrow's thoughts took a wistful turn. How would it be, she
wondered, to belong to someone? To have a child on the way?
How would it be to live as Aunt Etta lives-alone and likely to
stay that way?

As Morrow stood at the hearth stirring a skillet of fried apples,
she noticed three extra places had been set. But before she could
ask who else would join them, a knock sounded and Jemima
swept in, followed by Major McKie and an unfamiliar soldier.
Morrow felt a sudden, sweeping dismay. She'd felt safe hereshe'd thought McKie had other matters to attend to ...

At once the major's eyes sought her out, and his penetrating
gaze told her she was as helpless as a hare in a snare, without
a single hope of escape. Pa greeted them as the men removed
their heavy wool coats, and Jemima her cape and bonnet.

Lizzy cast an apologetic look at Morrow, bending to take the
biscuits from the bake kettle, and whispered, "Those three invited
themselves, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it"

Morrow sighed, easily believing it of Jemima. She tried to
master her distaste as Major McKie sidled up to her, wearing
a hint of a smile as if making some great joke. "Miss Little, it's
been much too long"

Unwilling to play along, she glanced at the small clock on
the mantel. "'Tis been but half an hour since we saw each other
at service, sir."

Sir. She used the term freely when she saw him, as it seemed
to keep some distance between them. Though she sensed it
nettled him, she felt it her only defense against his unwanted
attentions.

He sat down beside her on the bench. "Aye, as I said, much
too long, Miss Little"

She cast a quick look at him, noting his blue silk waistcoat
with its silver-gilded braid. He was a man of means, she'd heard,
a Virginian who'd condescended to come to the frontier only
after Governor Henry himself assigned him. But no amount of
finery could convince her that he was other than who he was.
The butcher of Fort Randolph. Her growing fear of him rivaled
her revulsion.

"I'm beginning to think you have an uncommon fondness for
children;' he said quietly.

Had he seen her admiring the newborns at Sabbath service?
Nodding slightly, she glanced at the empty oak cradle awaiting
Lizzy's babe. "Yes, I do:'

"Have you given any thought to having a family of your
own?"

She nearly squirmed. The question seemed so intimate she
could hardly answer. "Well ... I ... perhaps..."

He leaned nearer, and she felt a flicker of panic. Would he
propose to her here and now, before a roomful of people? He
was so besotted with her, Lizzy once warned, that he spoke of
her freely before his men. She sensed his preoccupation bordered
on obsession and that he was about to do something rash. But
at least Pa was here, and Lizzy and Abe, if things were to take
such a turn ...

He was so close she could smell the sour tobacco on his
breath. "Pardon my presumption, Miss Little, but you seem
ill-suited for the frontier."

She looked at him, not wanting to, fearing his bold eyes. "Iwhat do you mean, sir?"

"You seem to have been made for some elegant Virginia drawing room, not this crude, roughshod cabin:" His eyes traced her
every feature, finally falling to the striped kerchief that clung
to her shoulders and neck. "I have a farm in Caroline County,
Virginia. A plantation, if you will. In my mind's eye I keep see ing you there-pampered, with servants, doing little more than
being a mother'