Sweet Rosie (42 page)

He wished he was home and he would have been if it had not been for John Pendennis. In that moment he could have cheerfully murdered John himself. At last, Binnie rolled himself in his blanket, unaware that it stank of horse and his own sweat. Tomorrow, they would reach the coast and John would be off his hands.

Binnie woke to a bright sunny morning. Jessie was already brewing more coffee and the rich aroma made Binnie feel better. John unrolled himself from his blanket and looked across at Binnie and his eyes, for the first time since the party had left the Mandan village, were clear and bright.

‘I’ve been a damned fool, haven’t I?’ He rubbed his unshaven chin. ‘I’ve thrown everything away. I left a good wife for cheap women and cheap liquor.’

Even now John was thinking of himself and not of the chaos he had left behind in West Troy.

‘You can say that in spades!’ Binnie’s tone was clipped. ‘Not only have you wrecked the lives of the people you should have loved but . . .’ He shrugged. What was the point in going on?

‘Jo, how is she?’ John asked humbly. He looked at Binnie and read his expression well.

‘She lost the baby.’ There was no point in lying. ‘The shock of the row and Melia’s death was too much and, well, she lost the baby.’

‘Oh, God, what a bastard I’ve been.’ John hunched his knees to his chest and Binnie realized how thin the man had become. He was still young but he looked old and careworn.

‘If you don’t give up the bottle you are on the road to hell,’ he said abruptly. ‘You can never put right what you’ve done to the McCabes but you can try to shape up and make something of yourself back home.’

‘I know you’re right,’ John said. ‘I don’t understand why I let myself become such a wretch!’ He sighed heavily. ‘I had a woman who loved me, a good family life and a father-in-law who provided everything I could ever want and I threw it away.’ He looked directly at Binnie. ‘What am I to do?’

‘Go back to Cornwall, find yourself work, honest work. Pull yourself together and make something of your life before it’s too late.’

‘I can’t go back to Cornwall,’ John said. ‘
I
promised myself I would only go home when I was rich enough to do to Treharne what he did to me and my father.’

Binnie shrugged. ‘Well, go to Swansea then, see if Llinos will give you work.’ Binnie brightened suddenly. ‘I’ll write you a letter, you can deliver it to Llinos for me, that way I’ll know it arrived safely.’ He looked up at the clear sky. ‘We’ll make the coast by this afternoon, book into some lodgings and get cleaned up and then tomorrow we’ll part company for good, I hope.’ He had no intention of hiding his true feelings from John.

‘Binnie,’ John said slowly, ‘I appreciate what you’re doing for me, I’ll never forget your generosity.’

‘Just get wise,’ Binnie said. ‘Make something of yourself, you speak like an angel and act like a devil, take a good look at yourself before it’s too late.’

That night, Binnie luxuriated in the bathtub at the back of the small lodging house and, as the warm water lapped over him, he closed his eyes and thought about his wife and sons and how happy he would be to be home. Once he had seen the ship carrying John away from the shore, he would be free.

The morning dawned bright and clear. Binnie and John walked along the harbour looking for a ship headed for England. When they found one, it was Binnie who paid the captain. ‘What the hell have you done with the money you stole from Dan?’ he demanded angrily.

John shrugged. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Binnie, I took no money.’ He sounded so earnest, so indignant, that Binnie was almost inclined to believe him.

‘Well look,’ he said, ‘here’s some money to see you all right when you get to Swansea. Now take my advice and keep off the bottle and everything will work out fine.’

‘How can you say that?’ John asked. ‘I’ve hurt so many people, I can never forgive myself.’

‘You must put the past behind you,’ Binnie insisted. ‘Pray to God for forgiveness and make the rest of your life count for something.’

On an impulse, he held out his hand to John; he was after all a man from the old country. ‘Look after yourself,’ he said.

It was some time before the ship sailed but Binnie stuck it out, sitting on the harbour wall, making sure that John left American shores. Only when the ship was out of sight, the sails vanished into the distance, did Binnie feel that he had discharged his debt to the Mandan chief and to the McCabe family.

He walked slowly back to the lodging house and his heart was light. Tomorrow, God willing, he would be able to hold Hortense in his arms.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

‘I’m sorry I’ve hurt your wife, Joe.’ Sho Ka spoke softly. ‘I only meant to help, to try to explain how things were between you and me.’ She sighed. ‘But I didn’t realize how angry she would be.’

She was seated in a chair, her shawl wrapped protectively around her ungainly body. She felt sick to her stomach as she remembered Llinos’s white face and the tears in her eyes.

‘The Mandan ways are not your ways, Joe. You were meant to live as the white man lives, with one woman for life.’

She looked up at him; Joe was not her man but, in the months she had been with him, she had grown to love him. That had not been in the plan. She had been grateful to him for bringing her home with him and for taking care of her. She had quite deliberately enticed him into her bed. Not that he was reluctant, he was a lusty man, but he had betrayed his wife’s trust and he felt the guilt keenly.

Perversely enough it was his guilt that built the barrier between Joe and Llinos. He loved his wife deeply and, even though he had been tempted to stray, it was Llinos he wanted.

Still, one day very soon, the parting of the ways would come. Sho Ka would go away from him, away from Swansea, back to America where she belonged. She would be without him and the thought was like a death.

She looked at him now, drinking him in. Joe was staring out of the window, hands thrust into his pockets; he seemed engrossed but she knew he was gazing at nothing. He was missing his home and family.

He did not speak or even turn around and Sho Ka closed her eyes, remembering the sweetness of being with him, holding him, breathing in the scent of him. When he first brought her to Swansea and set her up in a house, he was distant, not wanting to touch her, let alone lie with her.

Sho Ka had put all thoughts of his wife and child out of her mind. She had been determined to have him. She had been shameless in her desire for him. She realized now she had never loved her husband the way she loved Joe.

She drew a ragged breath as she thought about their first night together. She had walked into his room wearing nothing but her beads and feathers. He had looked at her golden skin and she could see the desire in his eyes.

She had slipped into his bed, curled up against him and felt his arousal. He was a man and not made for abstinence. With a groan he had turned to her and her heart soared. He was hers. He had been ashamed in the morning. Unable to face her and afraid to go home to his wife. And yet when Sho Ka came to him again, he did not turn her away.

It was difficult to explain to a woman not born to Mandan ways the compulsion that drove Joe. He had been Sho Ka’s betrothed since childhood; they had grown up together, been inseparable until Joe had been taken away by his white father.

‘You have done well to give me a child, Joe. When I go home the tribe will flourish, the crops will grow tall and strong and the Mandan will prosper. Giving me a child was something I wanted so much, so don’t blame yourself.’ She stared at his straight back, longing to comfort him.

‘I wanted you as much as you wanted me, Sho Ka,’ he said. ‘And I didn’t have to take you into my bed but I did, not once but many times.’

‘Come here, Joe, please. Let me hold you one last time.’

He knelt beside her, his head resting on her breast. She closed her eyes, thinking again of the early days, of how she had drawn his passion to her with all the wiles she had at her disposal. There was the love potion given her by Grandmother Autumn Leaf, the little pouch wrapped in bison skin that hung even now between Sho Ka’s breasts. He had seen it and known at once what it was.

He had stayed with her so long because she was with child and she had no-one else. She knew he ached for his wife, he loved Llinos with all his heart but he was a man with a man’s desires.

It was then, when her thoughts were on Joe and their lovemaking, that the pains began. He felt her body tense and looked up into her face.

‘The child is coming?’

She nodded; they both knew it would be a boy. Joe’s mother was an elder and before she died, she prophesied that the son of Wah-he-joe-tass-ee-neen would one day rule the tribe of the Mandans.

‘I’ll fetch the midwife.’ Joe gently disengaged himself from her arms. He did not have to go far, the midwife was lodging in the house next door.

Sho Ka had never had a child but she knew now that with her husband it had been impossible. She was meant to be the mother of the chief and Joe was the only one who could be the child’s father.

The contractions increased but, in spite of the pain, she felt calm and at peace. Her time had come, her son would soon be born.

When the midwife bustled into the room, her sleeves rolled above her elbows, she took Sho Ka into the bedroom. She examined her carefully and at last nodded her head.

‘The baby is well on the way,’ she said cheerfully. ‘This is going to be an easy labour, my love.’

And so it proved to be. Within two hours, the boy lay screaming on the blood-stained sheets, his eyes screwed up, his mouth wide. Sho Ka felt pride run through her; this boy was flesh of her flesh, her son. She looked up at Joe.

‘He is going to be a worthy chief and a fine warrior,’ she said breathlessly. ‘He is handsome just like his father.’

The midwife worked swiftly and soon Sho Ka was sitting up in a clean bed, a cup of tea in her hand. It had puzzled her since she came here why the people of Britain held the drink of tea so highly. It was slightly bitter and dark in colour but she drank it to please the woman who was wrapping the baby in fresh clean linen.

‘There, Mother.’ She put the child in Sho Ka’s arms. ‘Here’s your boy. I’ll come and see you later on today but I don’t think you are going to have any problems, that was the easiest birth I’ve ever attended.’

When she had gone, Sho Ka looked down at the baby: he was golden, his hair, like her own, raven black. He opened his eyes and looked up at her and his eyes were the blue of the river with the sun on it.

‘What shall we call him?’ Joe touched the petal soft hands and the pride in his face brought a lump to Sho Ka’s throat. Her son would grow up on the plains of America far away from his father.

‘Blue Rivers,’ she said without hesitation. After a moment, Joe nodded. He looked sad, his face bent away from her and she knew his tears were near the surface.

‘I will take good care of him,’ she said softly. ‘All the tribe will love him. He will walk tall like you and be a good fine man. One day he will be chief of the Mandans, what better fate could you want for him?’

‘I could want him educated as I was,’ Joe said softly. ‘I could want him to learn the ways of the white man. I could want a great many things for him.’

Sho Ka shook her head. ‘For that you have your first-born son. Blue Rivers is created from Mandan stock, there is only a small part of white man in him.’

‘I know.’ Joe held out his arms. ‘Let me hold him this once and then I will give him to you for ever.’

Sho Ka watched the love in Joe’s eyes and she wanted to weep. Soon she would go home, she would be so alone without Joe. She knew that, back at the village, her suitor waited, the old chief who would take the child as his own. She would live in his lodge, wait on him, lie with him when he wanted it and perhaps she might even grow fond of him, but never would she love him as she loved Joe.

‘When I’m strong, I will go home,’ she said. ‘You must book my passage, Joe.’ She hesitated. ‘Go now and let me rest, I am very tired.’

When the door closed behind Joe, Sho Ka buried her face in her child’s linen wrap and let the hot, bitter tears flood from her eyes.

John Pendennis stepped ashore at the port of Swansea, glad that the long sea journey was over. He had landed at Bristol two days ago and then taken a fishing smack across the channel. On shore, he mingled with the sailors, some with golden skin, some dark as a winter storm. All sorts of people from many nations came and went with the Swansea tides.

He caught sight of a familiar face and stepped behind a pile of boxes. He watched as Joe Mainwaring helped a girl up the gang plank of a ship with sails at half-mast and his eyes narrowed. The girl was dressed in warm clothes, a good gown and a neat coat covered her slender figure. But her hair was as dark as Joe’s and he was bending over her in a most solicitous manner. A woman was trotting behind them, she was carrying a baby and, as John watched, Joe turned and spoke to the woman, apparently giving her instructions as he helped her aboard the ship.

Joe and the young foreign woman embraced and then Joe was practically running down the gang plank and leaping onto the dockside as though the devil himself were after him.

It was all very interesting and John felt for the letter that Binnie had entrusted to him. Perhaps he should open it, find out what was going on, it might be something to his own advantage.

First he would find lodgings. He would clean up, make himself presentable, then, when he had sorted out everything in his mind, he would go to Llinos Mainwaring and offer his services.

Llinos stood close to the potter as he threw a large jug, carefully wiping the lip into shape with a damp cloth. She loved the smell of the clay; the sound of the wheel turning was in her blood. She had turned pots herself once when it had been necessary for her to work. She had painted and glazed the china, doing everything that any other potter did. She was still a young woman and should be learning new ways to work and yet she was weary of struggling alone. Without Joe to love and support her she had no enthusiasm for anything.