Into the Wilderness
Page 287
He made a sound in his throat that was somewhere between reluctant acknowledgment and reservation.
"Richard may well be there," she said. "It cannot be put off forever. I must thank him for his help."
Under her hand, Nathaniel's arm tensed. "I know what we owe him," he said. "What I don't know is how Kitty fits into his plans."
"Falling—Day thinks he has changed," Elizabeth said, watching his expression from the corner of her eye. "He spent time with his brother. Perhaps he has come to terms with some of what plagues him."
He laughed without a bit of humor. "Here he comes now," he said. "You can ask him."
Richard had appeared from around the very turn where, not so very long ago, his team had bolted with Elizabeth in his sleigh. Now he pointed his gelding's head toward them and approached at a walk.
Elizabeth felt Nathaniel go straight and silent, all of his energy flung forward. She knew if she looked at him she would find his expression wiped clear of all emotion, only his eyes flashing a warning. On Richard's face there was the same wariness and reserve: they faced each other over Elizabeth's head as tense and silent as wolves.
Richard slid down from his saddle and stood there, slapping one palm lightly with the reins.
"If you're on your way to see the judge, he's gone to call on Mr. Witherspoon," he said. He pulled his hat from his head and ran a freckled hand through the mane of hair. "If it's Kitty you're interested in, I'm told it's her rest time." He focused on Elizabeth. "You're better? The wound healed clean?"
"Thank you," Elizabeth said, not quite sure how to respond to this neutral tone. "I've been by your place twice," said Nathaniel stiffly. "Didn't find you in. Came to thank you for your help."
"I am in your debt," Elizabeth added.
Richard raised a brow. Snow was settling on his hair; a rivulet of water ran over its brightness and down his forehead, but he did not move to brush it away. "You made me a promise once."
Until this moment, Elizabeth did not realize how much she had hoped Falling—Day had been right about Richard. Full of dread, she said: "I did as I promised. I appeared before the court, and answered the inquiries put to me. The court did not decide in your favor."
"I am aware of that," Richard said, one corner of the thin mouth turned downward.
"But you are determined still to try to take what is not yours," Elizabeth said.
Richard's head came up slowly. The frenzied anger that had been so much a part of him in the bush and at Good Pasture seemed to be gone. "The mountain is yours."
Nathaniel stilled beside her. "After all these years, it comes down to that? Why should we believe you?"
Richard only blinked, a decidedly Kahnyen’keháka blink, the kind of blink she got from Runs-from-Bears.
"You said you'd bury me on the mountain, when my time comes."
Nathaniel's eyes were fever—bright. "I remember."
"That's all I'm asking. I won't go back to court on the mountain if you'll give me that much."
The column of muscles in Nathaniel's throat moved visibly. "Hannah is my daughter," he said. "I want to hear you say so."
Richard thrust out his chin, his head jerking back. His whole frame went still, and Elizabeth was overcome by a dread so palpable that she suddenly found it hard to stand. Nathaniel's hand steadied her, but his gaze never wavered from the man in front of him.
"Hannah is Sarah's daughter," Richard said. And then: "Hannah is your daughter."
Elizabeth leaned into Nathaniel and felt a tremor pass through him. On his face was the same disbelief and relief that must be on her own.
"In that case, if all you're asking is burial rights on the Wolf, then I'll give you that. And gladly." He was clenching and unclenching his right fist; Elizabeth wanted to grab it and thrust it toward Richard, to see their hands sealed around these words that had passed between them.
"That's all I'm asking of you," Richard said. "But I'll ask Elizabeth a favor in payment for the good turn I did her."
"Settle the business between you," Elizabeth said. "And then you and I can talk."
When Nathaniel put out his hand, Richard met it without hesitation. Elizabeth could not look away from the sight of two strong hands clasped. Whether he was to be trusted, that was still a question that could not be answered with any certainty. She was consumed with curiosity about what had transpired in Montreal between this man and his brother, but she thought she might never know. On an audible sigh, Elizabeth said: "This business you have with me. Is it about Kitty?"
Richard's gaze shifted away from Nathaniel. "Yes. I'd ask you to let her make up her own mind."
"Kitty is a mother and a widow," said Elizabeth. "Her view of the world has changed, I think, even without any help of mine."
"I noticed," said Richard. "But you managed to put the idea of going to England in her head, you and your aunt Merriweather."
Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of herself. She wanted to hold on to the excitement and relief of the past few minutes, but Richard could still agitate and irritate. She was tempted to give him what he promised without discussion, but then she feared also that to start off with less than honesty was to doom this uneasy truce.
"Pardon my confusion, but I cannot quite be sure who it is you are courting. Is it the Kitty you left alone and without word for the entire summer, or is it my brother's widow and the mother of my father's heir? Perhaps you have given up on the mountain to go after a bigger prize."
"Richard may well be there," she said. "It cannot be put off forever. I must thank him for his help."
Under her hand, Nathaniel's arm tensed. "I know what we owe him," he said. "What I don't know is how Kitty fits into his plans."
"Falling—Day thinks he has changed," Elizabeth said, watching his expression from the corner of her eye. "He spent time with his brother. Perhaps he has come to terms with some of what plagues him."
He laughed without a bit of humor. "Here he comes now," he said. "You can ask him."
Richard had appeared from around the very turn where, not so very long ago, his team had bolted with Elizabeth in his sleigh. Now he pointed his gelding's head toward them and approached at a walk.
Elizabeth felt Nathaniel go straight and silent, all of his energy flung forward. She knew if she looked at him she would find his expression wiped clear of all emotion, only his eyes flashing a warning. On Richard's face there was the same wariness and reserve: they faced each other over Elizabeth's head as tense and silent as wolves.
Richard slid down from his saddle and stood there, slapping one palm lightly with the reins.
"If you're on your way to see the judge, he's gone to call on Mr. Witherspoon," he said. He pulled his hat from his head and ran a freckled hand through the mane of hair. "If it's Kitty you're interested in, I'm told it's her rest time." He focused on Elizabeth. "You're better? The wound healed clean?"
"Thank you," Elizabeth said, not quite sure how to respond to this neutral tone. "I've been by your place twice," said Nathaniel stiffly. "Didn't find you in. Came to thank you for your help."
"I am in your debt," Elizabeth added.
Richard raised a brow. Snow was settling on his hair; a rivulet of water ran over its brightness and down his forehead, but he did not move to brush it away. "You made me a promise once."
Until this moment, Elizabeth did not realize how much she had hoped Falling—Day had been right about Richard. Full of dread, she said: "I did as I promised. I appeared before the court, and answered the inquiries put to me. The court did not decide in your favor."
"I am aware of that," Richard said, one corner of the thin mouth turned downward.
"But you are determined still to try to take what is not yours," Elizabeth said.
Richard's head came up slowly. The frenzied anger that had been so much a part of him in the bush and at Good Pasture seemed to be gone. "The mountain is yours."
Nathaniel stilled beside her. "After all these years, it comes down to that? Why should we believe you?"
Richard only blinked, a decidedly Kahnyen’keháka blink, the kind of blink she got from Runs-from-Bears.
"You said you'd bury me on the mountain, when my time comes."
Nathaniel's eyes were fever—bright. "I remember."
"That's all I'm asking. I won't go back to court on the mountain if you'll give me that much."
The column of muscles in Nathaniel's throat moved visibly. "Hannah is my daughter," he said. "I want to hear you say so."
Richard thrust out his chin, his head jerking back. His whole frame went still, and Elizabeth was overcome by a dread so palpable that she suddenly found it hard to stand. Nathaniel's hand steadied her, but his gaze never wavered from the man in front of him.
"Hannah is Sarah's daughter," Richard said. And then: "Hannah is your daughter."
Elizabeth leaned into Nathaniel and felt a tremor pass through him. On his face was the same disbelief and relief that must be on her own.
"In that case, if all you're asking is burial rights on the Wolf, then I'll give you that. And gladly." He was clenching and unclenching his right fist; Elizabeth wanted to grab it and thrust it toward Richard, to see their hands sealed around these words that had passed between them.
"That's all I'm asking of you," Richard said. "But I'll ask Elizabeth a favor in payment for the good turn I did her."
"Settle the business between you," Elizabeth said. "And then you and I can talk."
When Nathaniel put out his hand, Richard met it without hesitation. Elizabeth could not look away from the sight of two strong hands clasped. Whether he was to be trusted, that was still a question that could not be answered with any certainty. She was consumed with curiosity about what had transpired in Montreal between this man and his brother, but she thought she might never know. On an audible sigh, Elizabeth said: "This business you have with me. Is it about Kitty?"
Richard's gaze shifted away from Nathaniel. "Yes. I'd ask you to let her make up her own mind."
"Kitty is a mother and a widow," said Elizabeth. "Her view of the world has changed, I think, even without any help of mine."
"I noticed," said Richard. "But you managed to put the idea of going to England in her head, you and your aunt Merriweather."
Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of herself. She wanted to hold on to the excitement and relief of the past few minutes, but Richard could still agitate and irritate. She was tempted to give him what he promised without discussion, but then she feared also that to start off with less than honesty was to doom this uneasy truce.
"Pardon my confusion, but I cannot quite be sure who it is you are courting. Is it the Kitty you left alone and without word for the entire summer, or is it my brother's widow and the mother of my father's heir? Perhaps you have given up on the mountain to go after a bigger prize."
