Where the Trail Ends: American Tapestries (34 page)

He leaned back against the wall, water puddling on the carpet under him. “Do you want to marry me?” he asked.

She shot him a furious look and then glanced back at Miriam. “What a preposterous question.”

“Because I am not going to be the president of the committee. I am not even going to be on the committee. I must find my own way in this world, whether it is here or in London. And if I marry, I hope my wife and I will be able to find this new way together.”

“There is no
way
to find, Alexander. My father will speak with Lord Dodds upon our return.” Her voice trembled. “They
must
keep you on the committee.”

He took a deep breath. “I am afraid I’ve lost more than my position, Judith. I have lost my title and inheritance as well.”

His words seemed to crash around her, around them. Her mouth fell open. “But you—you are now the Duke of Clarke.”

He shook his head. “Apparently my father was a street performer on the East End.”

“Ludicrous,” she announced. “We will fight this.”

“There is nothing to fight.”

“I came all this way...” Her voice trailed off as she stood.

“I am sorry, Judith.”

She stepped toward the door. “I must think.”

“Of course.”

Samantha kissed Micah on the forehead and slipped out the door, wearing her new muslin dress. Even though Alex had invited her to join him for supper, she knew he might be resting instead. She couldn’t fathom how exhausted he must be—but she still hoped he and Lady Judith might be waiting for her. She could suffer
through the woman’s glare for an hour, if only to hear the story of Micah’s rescue.

The moment Lady Judith began discussing their wedding ceremony, however, she would leave.

Candlelight flickered down the hallway from the dining room, and she almost turned and escaped back in her room. She’d taken Alex for granted during the past five months, his escorting her to church services, his playing with Micah, his strength during the storms. If something happened to Micah again, whose door would she knock on? The other men brought her flowers, but none of them cared for her and Micah like Alex did.

A dish clinked in the dining room, and she took a deep breath before she strolled inside.

Her heart leaped with gladness when she saw Alex there, waiting for her, alone. He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit in it.

She smiled. “Are you sure I’m not supposed to be in the other dining room?”

He returned her smile. “I am certain you are in the right place.”

She glanced toward the hall on the other side of the room. “Where is Lady Judith?”

He shrugged. “Packing her things, I believe.”

Sadness passed over her again, and she fought to resist it. Alex had to leave with her. Samantha’s longing would only wound them both. “Is she sad to return to London?”

He smiled again. “Hardly.”

She sat down, and he walked around the table, pulling out a chair to sit across from her. She unfolded her cloth napkin, straightening it in her lap, and for a moment she felt quite like a proper Englishwoman as she sat tall against the high-back chair, courting a proper English gentleman.

Was there any harm in pretending, just for the night, that she was Lady Clarke?

After he said grace, he served her a winter squash soup, followed by boiled turkey sprinkled with thyme and dinner rolls spread with fresh butter. She savored the food with gratefulness for God’s bounty and His mercy. Micah’s return was a miracle. A gift from God.

She ate a few bites of turkey and then set down her fork.

Alex watched her in the candlelight, and her heart fluttered in the intensity of his gaze. It was good that he was leaving on the ship tomorrow. She didn’t want him to go back to London, but she thought she could bear his departure. What she couldn’t bear was his remaining any longer while he belonged to another.

He refilled her water glass, his eyes still on her face. “How did you do it?”

She took a deep breath. “How did I do what?”

“Walk two thousand miles across this country, through the wind and the rain.”

She looked over at the mirror on the wall and saw her reflection. She still resembled the woman who’d left Ohio a year ago, but she felt nothing like her. The journey West was now a blur to her—of campfire smoke, endless walking, brutal sun, and parched lips. It was also the triumph of accomplishing what seemed to be impossible, the beauty of waking each morning to the joy of her community, the hours spent with her father before he died.

She barely remembered the wind and the rain.

“We had no choice but to keep walking. We simply put one foot in front of the other, for two thousand miles.”

He leaned forward, and for a moment she thought he might reach for her hand, but he folded his together. “You amaze me.”

Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”

Heaven help her, Alex had to stop talking to her like that, had to stop looking at her like he might love her too. She fidgeted with her napkin in her lap. They had to talk about something else.

She took a deep breath. “You were going to tell me where you found Micah.”

He pushed back his plate, his gaze drifting to the flicker of candlelight. “He was in an Indian village.”

Her skin crawled. “An Indian village?”

“They had not harmed him.”

She pulled at the napkin at her lap. How did Alex know they hadn’t harmed him? Harm sometimes buried itself deep inside a body and emerged later in anger and fear. “Were they planning to hurt him?”

“I don’t know.” He paused. “They believed he was the son of a god.”

She leaned back against the chair and imagined the Indians looking on her brother with wonder, the blond boy seemingly dropped into their midst. If they knew about the fort, they might have wondered if he came from there, but perhaps it didn’t matter.

“You should have seen him,” Alex reassured her. “He was so brave.”

He leaned forward again, his voice intent. “He didn’t even cry until we were far away from the village.”

The thought of Micah’s tears made her heart sink again. “How did you get him away?”

“Apparently they wanted my gun even more than they wanted the son of a god.”

“You traded your gun?”

He shrugged. “I can get another.”

She took a deep breath, marveling again that God had sent this man into their lives when they needed him so much. “You are a hero, Alexander Clarke.”

He shook his head. “I am no such thing.”

But in her heart, he was a hero to Micah and, most of all, to her. “Others falter in the face of danger, but when someone is in need, you keep pressing forward.”

She could see the conflict in his gaze as he searched her face. He was an honorable man, the honor threaded through him as tightly as the stitching on Mama’s prized shawl. She wouldn’t do anything to entice him to break his promises.

“I need to tell you—” he began, but his words were interrupted by a cough from the hallway.

She turned to see Lady Judith there, glaring at both of them. Heat climbed up Samantha’s cheeks again.

“I’m quite sorry to disturb you both, but Lord Clarke and I must talk.”

Lord Clarke.

Samantha stood quickly, tossing the cloth napkin onto her chair. Alex was so very different from her. He may be her hero, but he was also nobility and wealth and prestige. Everything she was not. She had to stop thinking that there might be more between them than a thread of mutual respect. She couldn’t even pretend there was friendship.

“I’ll miss you,” she whispered, not caring if Lady Judith heard her.

Then she turned and fled to her room.

Chapter Thirty-One

Samantha shook Micah’s shoulders gently. “Wake up.”

He rolled over, and she looked down on him with a heart full of admiration and gratitude. He had grown up so much during the past year, and she was proud of his bravery and a bit envious of his ability to rest well after his world crashed around him.

She’d slept only four or five hours, her body succumbing to her exhaustion, but then she’d awakened again before dawn. All she could think about was Alexander Clarke—Alex nodding a formal good-bye before he boarded the ship. Alex with Lady Judith on his arm as they left the landing. Alex waving to his fellow officers before the ship disappeared around the bend.

She couldn’t say good-bye, couldn’t watch his cursory wave to her before he left. She couldn’t pretend they were acquaintances merely taking different paths in their life. Their paths would never intersect again. This was good-bye for a lifetime. She thought she would be able to bear it, but after last night, she knew she couldn’t.

She shook Micah a little harder, urgency boiling in her. They had to leave the fort right away. “You have to get up,” she insisted.

He groaned, but he slowly sat up on his trundle.

In the early morning hours, she had packed their few things in two packs to strap to their backs. Now she wrapped Boaz’s leg and strapped a light load onto his back as well. She took with her their family’s Bible and a bag of sea biscuits in her pack. Part of her wished she could take Alex’s copy of
The Pilgrim’s Progress
, if only as
a reminder of Mama, but it would also remind her too much of him. She had to say good-bye to any hope of a life with him, just as he was doing with her.

“Where are we going?” Micah whispered.

“We have to finish our pilgrimage.”

After she helped Micah strap on his pack, she glanced around the room. Quickly she reached for Alex’s book and stuffed it into her pack. She would have to say good-bye later.

Micah clutched her hand, his knapsack balanced over his shoulder, as they moved quietly out the front door with Boaz.

If only they had their gold from Papa. Then they would be guaranteed for life in the Willamette. But now, it was a gamble whether or not she could stay with the Kneedlers or with Lucille. And whether she would even be able to find them.

Still, she had no choice but to go.

She hated to hurry Micah after his terrifying experience yesterday, but they couldn’t stay. Nor would she subject Micah to the pain of saying good-bye to Alex. He admired Lord Clarke more than any other man.

The front gate slowly opened, and she glanced back at the big house one last time. She didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye to Madame McLoughlin or Annabelle, but one day she would come back for a visit, long after Alex was gone.

Micah tugged on her hand before they stepped outside. “Can’t we stay a little longer?”

She shook her head. “It’s time to finish our journey.”

They stepped onto the path outside the palisades and walked slowly toward the river.

“But I like it here,” he said.

“You’ll like it in the Willamette too. The Rochesters will be there, and the Kneedlers. You remember Katherine Morrison, don’t you?”

He groaned. “Katherine’s just a baby.”

“I’m sure her dad would appreciate your entertaining her.”

“You’re not going to marry her father, are you?”

“Well...” She’d never really considered someone else besides Jack and then Alex. “Do you not like her father?”

“It’s not that.” He turned and looked behind them again. “You’re supposed to marry Alex.”

“Unfortunately, not everything works out the way we want it to.”

“I don’t want to leave Alex.”

She stopped and hugged him. “Neither do I.”

She brushed tears from her eyes and then, holding her head high, she and Micah and Boaz marched down to the landing. As they walked, she glanced up at the clouds hovering in the morning sky, but they held no threat of a storm. The river flowed steadily this morning. Calm.

She had one last obstacle before Alex and Lady Judith came down to the landing. She had to figure out how to get back across the river.

Several laborers were already on the dock, loading the remaining crates onto the boat. She stopped one of the men who’d brought her a bouquet of flowers shortly after she arrived at Fort Vancouver.

“Louie?”

He blinked “My name is Huey.”

“Ah, Huey.” She pointed to one of the bateaux on the shore. “Could you please row Micah and me to the other side?”

He shook his head. “I have to help get this ship loaded up before they leave.”

She thought for a moment. She didn’t have any money to pay him, but she still had credit at the Sale Shop. “You can have my store credit,” she said. “I’m not planning to come back.”

He stopped. “How much do you have?”

When she told him, he eyed the boats. “Does Clarke know that you’re leaving?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “He’s leaving today as well.”

Huey glanced down Boaz. “Your dog will tip the boat.”

She shook her head. “He won’t.”

“I don’t know—”

“Never mind. I can row us across.” She set her pack in one of the small boats. “After the ship leaves, would you come retrieve the boat?”

“McLoughlin will have my head if something happens to you.”

“We’re no longer the governor’s responsibility.”

Huey handed his load to another worker and climbed into the boat that held her pack. “I’ll take you.”