Courting Morrow Little: A Novel (41 page)

The sturdy pickets of Loramie's Station were no longer visible.
She felt a bit foolish for having wandered so far without telling
anyone at the fort. There was a real risk in being alone in the
wilderness, unarmed except for a small pen knife.

It was past noon when she sensed she was being followed.
The hair at the nape of her neck seemed to tingle, and then a
horse's soft nickering alerted her. Veering away from the creek,
she plunged into the gloom of the woods. There she made herself small, huddling behind a fallen log, suddenly aware she was
bright as a cardinal in the scarlet cape. She'd left no trail following
the water's gravelly bank, but this was cold comfort. If something
happened to her, who would know? Or care? Not Aunt Etta, far
away in Philadelphia. Only Red Shirt, she guessed.

Closing her eyes, she mumbled a terrified prayer. When she
opened them, she saw a tall shadow leaning against the trunk
of the pine she hid beneath. The rush of relief she felt was so
acute she was half sick.

Arms crossed, Red Shirt looked down at her, stark displeasure
in his eyes. "You came a long way. I nearly lost your trail:"

"I wanted to take a little walk, is all ..

"Hardly a little walk, Morrow"

She flushed. She hadn't thought of him returning and finding her missing, trail-weary as he was. All his weapons were
upon him, his leggings mud-spattered, his frocked shirt torn.
He looked leaner, his jaw more whiskered than she'd ever seen,
his handsome face almost haunting.

"The cabin was so empty. I just had to be free of the fort .."
Even as she said it, she realized how selfish it sounded. "I wanted
to find you. I thought-when you didn't come back-"

"You thought ... T'

"I thought ..." Her voice broke, and she looked toward the
river glinting through the trees. "I thought you didn't want to:"

A flash of pain darkened his face, replacing the anger of a moment before. He moved to sit beside her, his shoulder solid and
reassuring against her own. Though she worked to stop them,
tears began making trails to her chin, and all her pent-up angst
of the past months seemed to unleash itself in an irrepressible
torrent.

"You should have been in Missouri now like you wanted, she
said. "But I've kept you from it. I've been nothing but a burden
since we came north. You're used to living free, answering to
no one, going where you please. I know how hard it must be
for you, living at the fort-"

"How hard it is for me?" The quiet words were edged with
disbelief. "I'm not the one grieving a father. I didn't almost die
of a fever. Nor am I carrying a child"

Despite his reasonable words, her heart was choked with
doubt. She swallowed past the knot in her throat, aware of his
eyes on her while hers remained on the river. "Lately I've been
wondering if I'm made for this kind of life ... if I'm the wife you
need. Maybe Pa was right. I-I don't seem to weather things
well.."

Her voice faded, each word seeming to hover between them,
the stillness excruciating. A tiny bird lit on a nearby branch,
singing with all its might. How she wished she was that bird.
Oh, that I had wings like a dove, for then would I fly away and
be at rest.

He said quietly, "Do you love me, Morrow?"

She turned her face to him in alarm. Did he doubt her love?
Did he think all her emotional talk was her way of telling him
she didn't?

A humbling realization stole over her. Not once had she ever
said she loved him. Not on their wedding day ... or wedding night. She felt an overwhelming love for him, but the tender
words seemed to lodge in her throat.

Reaching out, she took his hand, the golden band a telling
reminder of their tie. "I love you. I will always love you ... more
than you know'

His eyes were solemn. "You show me your love in many ways.
But you haven't said it till now"

She hadn't ... but he had. She flushed, thinking of the countless times he'd whispered his love to her, both in passion and
in the many practical moments that made up their days. The
heartfelt words had formed a hedge around her, shoring her up
against all the trouble she'd encountered since leaving the Red
River. And he'd kept on saying them even when she hadn't, with
no promise she ever would.

"Do you believe I love you, Morrow?"

"Yes"

"Do you believe what the holy words say?"

She nodded, thinking of their Bible reading by the fire.

"Then you know love bears all things, he said.

The fragment of Scripture, so unexpected, so simply stated,
gave her pause. Love beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth
all things, endureth all things. The simple utterance seemed to
cast down all her disappointments and failures, her unmet expectations and fears, and turn them to ashes. How was it, she
wondered, that he always managed to condense a matter in so
few words and restore reason?

He stood and called for his horse, then bent down and helped
her up. Already she was considerably rounded, the baby making
her feel awkward. The black stallion came stamping through the
brush, snorting as if impatient to be off. She rubbed his nose,
glad she'd not have to walk all the way back to the post.

She watched Red Shirt adjust the saddle just for her comfort. Yet another expression of his love, like bringing his horse today when he could have let her find her way back on foot to
chasten her for her wandering. She stepped closer and touched
his sleeve. He was wearing the linsey hunting shirt she'd made,
dun-colored and heavily fringed to wick away water. Her eyes
trailed along its masculine lines, thinking of the love in every
stitch. He paused and looked down at her, surely unaware, she
thought, of the hold he had on her heart.

"I missed you, she said, thinking how cold the bed had been
and the way the days seemed to double in his absence.

"And I you;' he replied. "I had to go further than I wanted-to
meet up with the courier Loramie told us about"

She furrowed her forehead in concern. "The one wanting you
to come to Fort Pitt?"

He nodded. "My father asked me to go to Pitt and act as
mediator as well. There's a new Indian agent there who seems
more honorable than those before him" His eyes flickered over
her as if gauging her feelings. "But I sent the courier back to
General Hand to say I won't be coming"

The words turned her inside out with relief. She couldn't
tell him how much Loramie's warning words had been in her
thoughts of late. Or how she'd been haunted by the threat of
Bluecoat soldiers when he hadn't come back.

"I won't break the promise I made to your father," he said
with quiet conviction. "I won't leave you heavy with child as
you're becoming"

Her shoulders relaxed, and the cape she wore slipped to the
forest floor. A slice of sunlight through the trees cast a lacy pattern on her calico dress, and she stood in its warmth, pondering
all he'd told her. He paused to take her in, his face awash with
tenderness. She felt a certain shyness at his scrutiny. Placing one
hand on the horse's mane, she prepared to mount, but he made
no move to help her. His eyes were on the scarlet cape at her
feet. He bent not to retrieve it but to hobble his horse.

"Morrow ... you're like molasses to a winter-weary bear"

With a sure hand he brought her against him. Oh, but he'd
been gone too long. He began kissing her like he'd kissed her
beside the Falls of the Ohio, till he took her breath. And she
heard herself whispering over and over what she'd so long denied him. I love you ... love you ... love you. It was like a snow
melting inside her, thawing all the hurt and distance between
them, forging a new, beloved tie.

It was late when they returned to Loramie's Station. But the
scent of spring was in the air, and her world had been righted
again. In the lengthening shadows, she saw him looking west
and wondered ...

Lord, please hasten us to Missouri.

Half a dozen fiddlers and pipers struck up a brisk reel, and Morrow watched in amusement as a group of men partnered each
other with as much zeal as they could muster. The large dusty
common had been transformed from orderly and efficient by
day to one of rambunctious abandon this April eve. Redcoats
and Indians stood smoking and downing the rum Loramie had
so generously provided, while intoxicated trappers and traders clogged and entertained. Morrow danced a four-handed
reel with Angelique and her daughters, but the girls were soon
whisked away to the sanctuary of their rooms as the revelry grew
more unrestrained. On the fringe of the crowd, Loramie stood,
a pair of pistols in his belt, his small stature belying his imposing
reputation. On his watch nothing untoward would happen.

Winded from the dance, Morrow stood with Red Shirt in the
shadow of a blockhouse eave. Without a word he put his pipe
away and took her hand, leading her beyond the fort's front
gates. Fireflies winged about, reminding her of the Red River,
of fruit jars and Jess and the long lost days of childhood. A full
moon spilled silver light on the cornfields beginning to take
shape beyond the fort's east wall, the stalks aligned like rows of
soldiers. She shivered, turning to take in his solemn profile, all
too aware of the rifle he carried.

"The night-it bears watching," he said, drawing her into the
crook of his arm.

"Do you sense something ... someone?"

"If I did, you wouldn't be here:" Raising a hand, he pointed out
one shooting star and then another in the midnight sky.

But it was a momentary diversion, and she turned back to
him. "Ever since you met with the courier, I've sensed a burden
about you. I want to know what weighs you down so:"

He shook his head. "So you can be burdened too? No, Morrow. It's simply war talk. Little else"

She watched him as he studied their surroundings and wanted
to kiss his unsmiling mouth. "Don't you ever get weary of all the
trouble? Do you think it will ever end?"

He drew her closer. "There's no war being waged in Missouri"

Not yet. She studied him solemnly, thinking of the ebb and
flow of conversation at the dinner table. "Is it true there's an
American officer named Clark pushing further west than any
white man before him?"

He nodded, looking down at her in the darkness. "I've seen
firsthand the fort he's building at the Falls of the Ohio"

the falls? The breathtaking torrent of water came back to her,
along with a rush of recollection so sweet she felt breathless. "The
same place we made camp and swam? Our honeymoon .. .

"Is that what you call it?"

"It fits, does it not?"

He smiled, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness. "Honeymoon is too tame a word for what happened between us"

But she hardly noticed his gentle teasing. She felt stung by a
suffocating sense of loss at the revelation. The thought of such
a place being overrun with soldiers and camp followers seemed
a desecration. But there were other things pressing on her mind
and heart, and she felt the need to further unburden herself.

"Tonight at supper I heard Loramie mention a prisoner exchange at Fort Pitt:"

"It's part of the coming treaty-making there:"

She fell silent, thoughts full of Jess.

"Do you want me to go, Morrow?"

She slipped her arms around him, her heart too full to say
anything but a simple "No:"

"I would gladly go if I thought it might bring your brother
back to you. But I made a promise to your father to stay near at
hand. And I've told Loramie we're leaving by month's end"

She looked up at him, lips parting in surprise. The words were
so welcome-so long awaited-she was speechless with joy.

"If we go now, we'll cross the Missouri after the spring rush
and be in a cabin of our own before winter sets in"

"I'm ready to go now, tomorrow:"

Smiling again, he gave a playful tug on her kerchief. "A fortnight is soon enough. There are still provisions to gather-horses,
medicines. I need to consider the best routes for travel:"