Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 03] (27 page)

Aee didn’t think she had ever seen anyone as pretty as Maggie. She could not yet understand why Maggie was so oblivious to the Swede’s interest in her. Aee brushed Maggie’s hair until it was a mass of shimmering ringlets, then slipped the ribbon under her hair at the back of her neck, brought it up behind her ears and tied the bow at the top of her head. When Maggie saw her reflection in the mirror, her delight was with the ribbon.

“Take yore hair out of the braids, Aee. Fix yore ribbon like mine.”

“Ma says that in town grown women don’t let their hair hang down,” Aee said, forgetting she had never seen Maggie’s done up.

Maggie looked stricken. “I do. I’m a grown woman—”

“Of course, Maggie. But yo’re different.”

“How am I different? I don’t want t’ be different.”

“Well . . . I mean that yo’re so . . . pretty.”

“Ya are too. I don’t want to be prettier’n ya are,” Maggie said in a small sad voice.

“A’right. Bee, let’s let our hair hang down too.”

“What’ll Ma say?”

“I don’t think she’ll mind . . . this one time.”

When the girls came out of the room and lined up for inspection, Maggie stood beside Aee. Mrs. MacMillan looked at each one carefully, then smiled.

“My, my, my. I don’t know when I’ve seen prettier girls. Cee’s dress fits you perfectly, Maggie.”

“I had a dress like this a long time ago when we lived in Kaintuck. A lady there showed me how to do this.” She spread the skirt with her hands and bent her knees in a quick bow.

“That’s very nice.”

“Let’s go show Light and Eli and Paul.” Maggie took Eee’s small hand in hers and pulled her toward the door.

That damn Swede’s eyes will pop right out when he sees
her!
The thought leaped into Aee’s mind as she heard the sound of galloping horses come into the yard.

Neither MacMillan nor his wife had been able to persuade their Osage friends to leave their ponies in the corral behind the barn. Owning a horse was an indication of a man’s importance. They wanted to show off for the white men. Many Spots and his warriors left their horses beside the door of the cabin.

“We come to eat.”

“You are always welcome.”

“We hear big noise. Zee make big magic for Mac’s son.”

MacMillan scratched his chin to hide his smile when he looked down at Zee.

“My son is fortunate that Zee is our friend.”

“He will need much magic to grow strong,” Zee said solemnly, his unblinking eye on Many Spots.

Light’s dark, serious eyes went from the little man to the homesteader. The two of them knew better than to scoff at the beliefs of the Osage. Light was aware that he was a long way removed from his mother’s people. His father, Pierre Baptiste, had loved his mother fiercely and he, like MacMillan, had been tolerant of her people’s primitive beliefs.

When Light was born, his mother had told him, he was so small that he could be held in one of his father’s hands. His grandmother had been alarmed that he had such a light body and worried that he might not live. She had placed the after-birth in a bag and hung it in the branches of an oak tree to ensure that the frail babe would grow strong. The infant thrived. His mother had named him Baptiste Lightbody.

It was a good name for a man, Light thought now. His father had lived to see his son grow into a man and had taken pride in him even though they were vastly different. Pierre Baptiste had been a big, burly man with a golden beard; his son was slim and dark.

Light’s wandering thoughts came back to the present when MacMillan, speaking in Osage, asked Many Spots and his warriors to tie their ponies to the trees at the edge of the woods because Mrs. Mac was going to bring the newborn to the table and the horses drew flies.

Very diplomatic, Light thought. MacMillan was a good man. He liked the way he treated the Negroes and the little deformed Zee. MacMillan respected the Osage and they him.

If not for his burning desire to live on his mountain, Light thought now, he would be tempted to find a place a few miles from here and build his home. But, no. Using the river as a road to the west, people would soon fill the country and he would become restless as he had back in St. Charles.

Maggie and the girls came out of the cabin, each carrying a dish to the table. Maggie set hers down and hurried to Light. She grabbed her skirt in her two hands and curtsied as she had for Mrs. MacMillan. A happy smile covered her beautiful face.

“
Ma petite!
You are magnificent!” Light’s eyes were alight with love. He had never seen her with a ribbon in her hair or in a dress with a white collar. She was lovely, but to him she was never more beautiful than when she was striding along beside him in the woods wearing her buckskin britches with her bow and whip on her shoulders.

“See my ribbon.” She whirled around with a happy laugh. “Look at Aee, Light. Ain’t she pretty?” Maggie grasped Aee’s hand and pulled her to where Light stood with his back to the cabin wall.

Aee’s face turned a rosy red and she tried to pull her hand away. The Swede had stopped talking—for once—and was leering at Maggie.

“
Mademoiselle.
” Light made a courtly bow, and Maggie giggled.

“Bee,” she called. “Come show Light.”

Bee acted as if she hadn’t heard Maggie call and hurried into the house.

Watching, Eli wondered once again at Maggie’s naiveté. It was so rare for a woman to be so beautiful, rarer yet for one to be so open and honest. The women he had known, including Orah Delle Carroll, Sloan’s daughter, kept their feelings carefully concealed. Such open pleasure as Maggie was exhibiting would be unthinkable among women who had been tutored to behave in ways considered proper.

Eli’s eyes rested on Aee. It pleased him that she knew he was looking at her and was bothered by it. She stood a head taller than Maggie yet her body was slender and strong as a willow switch. She was plainly uncomfortable, but she had not scurried away as her sister had done. Her eyes had passed over
him
as if he weren’t there.

Since she had hit him with her hat, Aee had completely ignored him except for the one scathing remark she had made after her brother was born. Eli chuckled. She was a woman who would be able to take care of herself in most situations and would stand shoulder to shoulder with her man. She was also a mouthy, opinionated
brat.
But with her hair hanging in heavy brown waves down to her waist, she was a mighty pretty one.

Maggie left Light’s side and went to the Indian ponies. Alarmed, Eli stood. He darted a glance at Light, thinking the man would surely go to her, but Light was calmly watching her rub the noses and wnisper in the ears of the half-wild ponies. She patted the sides of their heads, her nose next to their noses. The braves squatting beside the cabin wall watched and muttered to each other.

“What the hell!” Eli started to cross the yard toward her. Light stepped into his path.

“Leave her be.”

“For crissake! They’d take half her face with one bite!”

“Leave her be!” Light commanded in a low, icy voice.

“I . . . don’t understand you!”

Light looked at him then. His black eyes were hard.

“No, you don’t understand me . . . or my wife. Keep your distance.”

The two men glared at each other, then Light felt a small hand in his and looked down at Maggie. She had not heard the words that passed between them. She was smiling.

Squatting on his heels beside Zee’s chair, Paul watched the exchange between Eli and Light and held his breath. It was important that his friend’s interest be directed away from Maggie Lightbody, or her husband would kill him.

MacMillan’s oldest daughter Aee was pretty—in a way different from Maggie and far more suitable for Eli. Mac had figured it right when he said they struck sparks off each other. It was a heck of a lot better that they go head-to-head than be indifferent. The idea Paul had been mulling over in his mind began to take form.

*  *  *

The table looked as if it were set for a Thanksgiving feast. The women stood by while the men heaped their plates and retired to the woodpile to sit on stumps and eat. Aee made up a plate for Zee. MacMillan carried Zee, chair and all, to where the men were eating. Many Spots and his braves, not at all bashful about helping themselves, took large helpings of meat, but little else. Aee and Bee filled plates for the younger girls and then for their mother, who sat at the end of the table with Frank in her lap.

Caleb and Linus were hanging back pretending to cut meat from the haunch over the fire.

“Caleb, what’er ya and Linus lollygaggin’ around for? Ya’ll not get any a that goose if ya don’t come on. My goodness, ya know better’n to hold back when the Osage are here. They’ll clean this table down to the boards in no time a’tall.”

“Yass’m, Missy Aee. We comin’.” Caleb pushed Linus ahead of him and they came to the table.

“Take plenty, but save room for the pumpkin cake.”

Aee went to the fire to pour tea into a mug from a large pot.

Linton Bodkin set his plate down and hurried to her.

“Ma’am, can I hep ya do that?”

“Thank ya, Mr. Bodkin. If ya take this t’ Zee”—she looked directly at Eli—“ever’body else can wait on themselves.”

Plates were filled and filled again. Aee cut the pumpkin and suet cake and covered the remaining food with a cloth to protect it from the flies.

To Maggie’s delight, MacMillan went into the cabin and came out with a fiddle. He tucked it beneath his chin and played a merry tune.

“A’right, girls. Show ’em how ya can dance.”

“Ah . . . Pa—” Bee protested, but Cee took her hand and pulled her into the yard. The two youngest MacMillans joined hands, and when the music started, they galloped around the yard. Bee and Cee began to dance, their full skirts swishing about their ankles, long dark hair swaying on their backs.

Zee clapped his hands in time with the music. First Bodkin, then Paul, Eli and Dixon joined. Maggie stood and clapped with the others.

When MacMillan finished the tune, he beamed at his daughters.

“Ain’t they the beatin’est? Been dancin’ since they could walk. Come dance with ’em.”

Bodkin reached for Cee. “I got a sister back home ’bout yore age.”

Dixon stepped shyly toward Bee. She took his hand, but didn’t look at him.

“Want t’ dance?” Four-year-old Eee asked Paul.

Paul made a courtly bow. “
Mademoiselle,
I would be honored.”

“Ya get t’ dance with me, Mr. Nielson.” Dee gave Eli a smile that showed two missing front teeth.

“I was just about to ask.”

MacMillan began to fiddle. The song was “Yankee Doodle.” As the couples whirled around the yard, Maggie stood beside Light, clapping her hands. Light knew she wanted to dance, but he couldn’t bring himself to take her hand and join the others. He had never danced, never wanted to, and would feel foolish doing so. But he wanted Maggie to enjoy herself.

“Dance with Paul,
chérie,
” Light said when the music ended and the couples changed partners.

“Ya ain’t carin’ if I dance?”

“No, my pet.”

Light stood by quietly while Maggie danced with Paul. To him her laughter was sweeter than the sound of the fiddle. Her head was thrown back, her mouth open as she gasped for breath. He loved her so much that he was tempted to reach out and snatch her back to him.

The dance was long; and when it was over, the exhausted dancers sank down to rest. Maggie came to Light. He put his arm around her and pulled her down to sit beside him on the ground.

The merriment went on. Bodkin asked Light’s permission to dance with Maggie. She danced with Paul again. Eli did not come near, nor did he dance again. After a while Aee played the fiddle and MacMillan danced with his daughters.

In late afternoon when Many Spots and his warriors left to return to their encampment, MacMillan sent the chief a small sack of the tobacco Eli had given him. After they mounted their ponies, each warrior rode past Maggie and dropped the feathers that had been entwined in his pony’s forelock.

Maggie picked up each feather and stuck it in her hair, then looked at Light with a question in her eyes.

“They honor you, pet.”

“Why?”

“They think you’re magic, as I do.”

*  *  *

After the table was cleared and carried back into the cabin, MacMillan took Bodkin and Dixon to the shed to show them his potash works. As soon as the men disappeared around the corner of the house, Paul turned to Eli.

“Have you spoken to them about signing on to go to the Bluffs?”

“Not yet.”

“You’d better get to doin’ it,
mon ami.
Another day and Mac will be chopping down trees for their cabins.”

Eli snorted. “Bodkin can’t take his eyes off Aee, and Dixon looks like a dying calf when Bee is around. What chance do we have of getting them to sign on?”

“You won’t know till you try,
mon ami.
”

“I’ve been thinking that maybe MacMillan will help us hire some of the Osage, and we may be able to persuade Light to go along as interpreter—”

“—He won’t.”

“How do you know? Does he plan to spend the winter here?”

“He hasn’t said.”

“Mista Eli!” Linus came running toward the homestead. “Mista Eli!”

Eli stood. “What the hell’s the matter now?”

Linus was gasping for breath when he reached them. All he was able to say was: “Yo . . . boat! Yo . . . boat!”

It was enough. Eli took off on a full run. In three minutes he was at the creek. He came bounding around the rhododendron bushes to the willows where the flatboat had been tied. It was not there, but the top of the shed and the mast were visible in the middle of the creek.

Eli swore. “Son of a bitch!”

“What? What—Ah . . .
mon Dieu!
” Paul exclaimed, breathing hard from the run.

“The cargo is ruined.”

“All but what we stowed in MacMillan’s caves.”

“I’ll kill him!” The name of the culprit was unspoken, but both knew who was responsible.

“Can it be fixed?”