My Savage Heart (The MacQuaid Brothers) (33 page)

She couldn’t deny that... didn’t even try.

“Now I believe my inquiry was simple enough. Do you know who fathered your child?”

“Does it matter so much to you?”

“Hell yes it matters.” Wolf realized he had raised his voice above the whispers they were using and shook his head. His voice was low when he spoke again. “It matters a great deal. Now, do you know?”

“Yes.”

He seemed not to have expected that response. Or at least if she acknowledged that much, he expected her to continue... to tell him what he wanted to know. But she didn’t. Caroline simply stood, his hands cupping her shoulders and waited.

“Is the child mine?” His fingers tightened. “Is it my father’s? Damnation, Caroline, tell me!”

But in the end, when the decision rested squarely upon her, she could say nothing. It was as if her mouth wouldn’t even open. Silence was the only protection she could offer her unborn child.

And it was that silence that drove the man she loved away.

“Since you refuse to enlighten me, I am forced to assume the worst,” he said before turning away. This time he didn’t stop.

A bitter wind swept through the room as he opened the door. And then he was gone.

If Mistress Quinn noticed that Wolf no longer stopped by in the evening, she didn’t mention it. Mary was not so obliging.

“I don’t know what you wish me to say.” Caroline was sorry for her annoyed tone before she finished her words. But she was not in the best of humors, and Mary would not let the subject of Raff MacQuaid rest.

Dropping to her knees in front of Mary who was busy nursing her fretful child, Caroline took her free hand. “Please, Mary, I don’t want to talk about him.” It was a simple enough request, but Caroline found she had to look away from the hurt in those trusting grey eyes.

“I know something is wrong, Caroline. You can deny it all you like. But it isn’t my curiosity that needs appeased. ’Tis your happiness that worries me.”

“I am happy. You are getting stronger and talk of a treaty with the Cherokee is everywhere—”

“Yes, yes. And you adore being cooped in this cabin with an irritable old woman and a sickly child whose mother is barely able to care for herself. Tell me how you enjoy doing more than your share of the chores even though you awaken each morning to divest your stomach of its nourishment.”

She stopped suddenly, and Caroline couldn’t help but laugh. It was so unlike the optimistic Mary to talk so. “Goodness,” Caroline said with a shake of her head. “I didn’t realize my morning bouts of nausea awakened you. Perhaps I should learn to gag a bit more quietly.”

“Don’t make light of it.”

“Believe me, Mary, I don’t consider my morning ritual of leaning over the slop jar amusing. Still, I don’t quite understand your outburst.”

“Are we friends, Caroline?” Mary turned over her hand and grasped Caroline’s, holding it tight.

“Of course we are.”

“Yet you won’t let me help you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. ’Tis obvious Colleen takes much of your time, and that is as it should be, but—”

“I’m not referring to physical labor, and I think you know it.” Mary took her sleeping daughter from her breast and handed her to Caroline. With a quick kiss to her smooth forehead, she placed the child in her basket. When she would have stood, Mary again clasped her hands. “You listened to me, when I told you of my love for Logan... my fear that he didn’t feel the same.” Mary took a deep breath that shook her thin breast. “It helped me to speak of it... with a friend.”

“And that’s what you wish me to do?” Caroline felt annoyance building in her and tried to suppress it. “Bare my soul. All right, Mary. Where shall I begin? I didn’t love my husband. Nay, let me be honest. I loathed my husband. Does that honesty on my part make you feel better?”

“Robert wasn’t a very likable man.”

“No he wasn’t.” Caroline felt a layer of anxiety melt away. “But I wed him and owe him some measure of loyalty.” She didn’t like to think about the way she deceived him.

“At the sake of your own happiness?”

“There are more important things to consider.”

“Your child is Raff’s, isn’t it? Oh, please don’t look so stricken.” Mary leaned forward and threw her arms around her friend. “Mistress Quinn is out for her constitutional, and you know I would never breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“How did you know?” There was no sense in denying it, Caroline could see that by the expression on Mary’s sweet face. She was convinced and lying about it wouldn’t help.

“I’d like to say ’twas my intuition.” She hung her head and a few soft curls escaped from her cap. “But I fear in part, I know because I heard you and Raff talking last week.”

“Mary, I’m shocked.” Caroline tilted her head. “You were eavesdropping?”

“Perhaps a bit. But you and Raff weren’t exactly keeping your voices down. Oh Caroline, why didn’t you tell him the truth?”

“What if I don’t know the truth?”

“Stop that right now!” Mary stood, pulling Caroline up with her. “We both know Robert never touched you. Do you think I wasn’t aware of what went on in that house? He threatened often enough; and if he could have, you’d have been bedded often. But the truth is, he spent his days drinking and his nights alone.”

“Goodness.” Caroline found the heated flush that crept up her face embarrassing. “I never knew you to be so forthright.”

“I just want what’s best for you.” Mary threw her arms about Caroline’s waist. “You are my dearest friend.”

“Then trust me to do what I must.”

“You mean you aren’t going to tell him?” Mary leaned back to study Caroline’s face.

“Mary.” Caroline let the word drag out.

“All right. I shall leave it up to you.”

“And you won’t tell Raff?”

“Nay, I shan’t say a word.”

Caroline decided later that week that she should have demanded another promise—that she and Mary would discuss the matter no more. Mary apparently decided that if she couldn’t inform Wolf of his impending fatherhood, she must convince Caroline to do it.

“He really can be very civilized, you know. Logan told me once he was an excellent student while at Oxford. And he was considered quite the thing in society.”

Caroline paused, the spoon she used to stir the Indian corn bread poised in mid-stroke. She swiped at an errant strand of curly hair with her free hand. “Dare I guess that the ‘he’ you refer to is Rafferty MacQuaid?”

Mary had the decency to look contrite. “He is a remarkable man,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to overlook that fact because he has Cherokee blood.”

This time she dropped the spoon into the cornmeal mix and turned to face her friend. “Is that what you think, that I’m rejecting him because of his race?” Caroline didn’t wait for an answer. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“But you love him, I know you do.”

“Perhaps I do.” Caroline’s voice was as impassioned as her friend’s. “But the problem is, he doesn’t love me.”

There was nothing Mary could say to counter that. Certainly Raff hadn’t disproved Caroline’s words by returning to the cabin after the night he found out about her pregnancy. His absence had even been noted by the unobservant Mistress Quinn. She commented the night before that there was a lack of fresh meat in their stew. Since Wolf was the one who had brought a rabbit or squirrel whenever he stopped by and since she’d accompanied her remarks with a pointed look at Caroline, it seemed obvious she connected the two.

“I believe Mr. MacQuaid is absent from the fort,” Caroline said, using her best
Your Ladyship
voice. She should have known better than to put on airs with Mistress Quinn.

“ ‘Mr. MacQuaid’ is it?” the old woman said with a throaty laugh that sent her into a coughing spasm. “Thought you two were beyond such formalities,” she continued when she’d caught her breath.

Beyond such formalities indeed. The woman was incorrigible. But even though there were many times Caroline would have preferred to be alone, away from Mistress Quinn’s raucous comments and even Mary’s bittersweet romanticism, Caroline stayed near the cabin.

Smallpox was more a threat than ever. Its presence hung in the air, a constant reminder to Caroline that she needed to take Mary and the baby and return to Seven Pines.

With the treaty negotiations progressing as they were, leaving the fort seemed more and more a possibility. Governor Lyttelton, at the Little Carpenter’s insistence, had released more of his hostages. It was a sign of good faith, and it precipitated the drawing up of a new treaty between the English and Cherokee.

Mistress Quinn returned from her daily walk to inform Caroline and Mary that there was nothing more to fear from the Indians. “They done put their mark to the agreement,” she called out as she entered the cabin. “No more worrying about being scalped in our sleep,” she said with a whoop of joy.

“What has you so excited?” Mary leaned back in the rocker and laughed as the older lady grabbed Caroline’s hands and danced her about the room.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?”

 “We heard,” Caroline said, pressing her hand to her heart when Mistress Quinn let her go. “Tell us about the treaty. What did they agree upon?”

“There’s to be a ceremony tomorrow, but they already signed it.” Mistress Quinn sank heavily into her chair by the fireplace and spent a few moments catching her breath. “Lyttelton’s agreed to release the Headmen when the guilty Indians are brought to the fort.”

Caroline couldn’t see anything new there, but she said nothing.

“There’s to be friendship between the two nations,” Mistress Quinn was saying. “And they’re to set up the licensed traders again.”

It all sounded well and good, and a treaty was certainly what Caroline had hoped for. She toasted the peace with a mug of apple cider, sharing in the good spirits that prevailed in the cabin. But secretly she wondered what Raff thought of this agreement. Was she missing something, or did the treaty change very little?

Peace and friendship were noble words, but the governor still held innocent Cherokee Headmen against their will. And he still demanded the surrender of twenty-four Indians who killed white settlers in Virginia... who, according to Wolf, were only avenging the deaths of their slaughtered brethren.

Caroline lay on her bed that night, her hands folded over her slightly mounded stomach and watched the fire make shadows and light dance across the ceiling. It was so hard to understand the relationship between the Cherokee and the British... her people. It ’twas no wonder she and Wolf couldn’t seem to be of a like mind about anything. But she still couldn’t stop thinking of him. He wasn’t in the fort. Mistress Quinn had mentioned that—again staring pointedly at Caroline.

So he was gone. Presumably somewhere among the Cherokee. Caroline couldn’t help the sadness that settled over her spirit. But it was probably for the best. Her fingers splayed over her womb. Now there would be no one to stop her from leaving Fort Prince George and returning to Seven Pines.

The English planned to start up trade again with the Cherokee, and she was determined to be one of the traders. And unlike her late husband, Caroline would be fair and aboveboard with the Cherokee.

The next day was full of pomp and elaborate costumes. The Cherokee, among them Little Carpenter, Attakullaculla, Round O, and Killianca, wore their finery. The December sun shone on their silver armbands and breastplates. Their shirts were of English-made material, colorful and covered by long capes that fluttered in the wind. Like Wolf, their bodies were tattooed, but where he wore his hair long and sleek, the Headmen’s scalps were shaved except for the topknot they decorated with wampum and feathers.

Not to be outdone, Governor Lyttelton and his officers appeared in full military dress. Their scarlet tunics and white powdered wigs offered a colorful counterpoint to their Indian allies.

Speeches were given and presents were displayed... though not exchanged. In a move that Caroline considered less than friendly, the governor decided to withhold the gifts of peace—muskets, powder, and such—until all the Cherokee guilty of raiding the Virginia colonists were turned over to him.

But as Caroline watched the ceremonies, the Headmen gave no indication that they were offended. To the contrary, all seemed pleased with the agreement.

Certainly Governor Lyttleton did. Within days he made plans to quit the fort. Of course, he really hadn’t much choice. Nearly half his men were gone, having left for Charles Town when he hinted that those who wished could decamp. The fear of smallpox was a strong motivator.

Not that Caroline begrudged any of the soldiers that fled the dreaded disease. She was preparing to do the same. As weak as Mary and the baby were, she could only thank God they hadn’t succumbed yet. And she was taking no more chances. The treaty was signed. The soldiers, except for a token force, were gone, and the Cherokee from all she could tell would be ready for a new trader. It was time to leave Fort Prince George.

“Are you certain you won’t come with us?” Caroline glanced over her shoulder toward Mistress Quinn, who sat in her chair puffing on her clay pipe. Caroline resumed rolling her petticoats and stuffing them into the saddlebag when the woman shook her grizzled head.