Courting Morrow Little: A Novel (26 page)

"Thank you, Joe, she managed, wanting to open it in private
so he wouldn't see her pleasure-or her tears. But his eyes were
pinned on her expectantly ... as were Pa's.

She sat down again, prepared to share the gift with them but
afraid they could see her hands shaking. What had come over
her? Her thoughts were just as wayward. He wrapped this package ... selected its contents. It seemed almost sacred somehow,
tethering them across the miles, strengthening their tie.

She tore at the heavy paper, revealing a wealth of otter fur
beneath. The luxurious skins had been crafted into a short cape,
deep and dark and sparkling, with a tie of black silk ribbon at
the throat. Holding it close, she felt an overwhelming anguish
that he wasn't there to give it to her himself.

"He trapped and made it with his own two hands:' Joe told
her. "I asked him. Best put it on so I can see how it looks on
you in case he asks me"

She obliged, settling it over her shoulders and tying the silk
strings in front, marveling at its exquisite softness. "Fit for royalty, I reckon;' Joe announced. "Looks mighty fine on you, Miz
Morrow"

Pa studied her, but she avoided his eyes, afraid he would see
what was hidden in their depths. "I'd best put it away;" she said
with a tremulous smile, gathering up the paper and string and
going inside.

They resumed their talking while she went upstairs. Opening
her wardrobe, she hid the lovely fur away and shut the door on
it, only to take it out again. Giving in to her growing need of Red
Shirt, she buried her face in its soft, glistening folds, pleasedand grieved-beyond measure. For now she was certain of just
what she had to do.

The next morning Pa rose early to begin plowing and putting
in the corn crop with Joe's help. Knowing how the day would
tax him, Morrow had baked his favorite breakfast, leaving the
iron kettle overnight in the hot ashes of the hearth. Lifting the
lid, she set the spoon bread on the table, its crusty top dripping
with melted butter. To her relief, he took two helpings. But no
matter how hard she worked to feed him, the flesh just fell off
his slender frame.

He seemed preoccupied this morning, saying little as she sat
opposite him and made a pretense of eating her own breakfast.
Joe hadn't appeared yet, and her eyes were drawn to the ticking clock overhead. She must tell him today, right now. Setting
her own untouched plate aside, she took a steadying breath.
Though she'd practiced the words in the privacy of her bedroom,
her heart twisted with such turmoil she wasn't sure she could
stumble through them.

"Daughter, are you all right?"

His tender concern seemed the final straw that nearly sent her
crumbling. "Pa, I've ..:" She swallowed hard, clasping her hands
together, blinking back the tears that lined her lashes. The tense
silence seemed to beg her to reconsider. He leaned forward as if
expectant, perhaps hopeful. He'd known such heartache ... he
only wanted to see her settled. Couldn't she give him this?

"Pa, I-I've decided to marry Robbie Clay." He sat back
and nodded, face awash with something she couldn't name. She stumbled on. "I think it's best if we wed quietly, without
delay"

Before I give way.

He cleared his throat and for a few moments seemed to be
groping for words. When he found them, they sounded almost
as stilted and forced as hers had been. "Very well, Morrow. I'll
ride to the fort and tell him"

She nodded and turned away, hearing Joe on the porch. He
appeared in the open doorway, voice booming as she reached
the landing to her room. "Mornin, Elias, Miz Morrow. I just
remembered the news I should have told you about when I
was here yesterday. Abe says Lizzy has delivered a fine son and
wants you and your pa to come see them"

She tried to smile, to speak, but the words wouldn't budge.
The silence lengthened uncomfortably until Pa said, "Well, that's
fine news, Joe. I was planning on going to the fort tomorrow,
anyway." He looked up at Morrow hovering on the steps, as if
waiting for her to announce their own tidings. When she merely
looked at him mutely, he mumbled, "I believe we have some
news of our own'

The grizzled woodsman scratched his beard and waited.
Speaking past the knot in her throat, Morrow said, "I'm going
to be married ... to Robbie Clay"

Joe seemed to be trying to work up a smile, eyes sharp. "Well,
that's news, all right. When?"

She looked at Pa, so shaken by what she'd just committed to
she couldn't answer.

"We'll find out tomorrow when we go to the fort;' Pa said as
matter-of-factly as if they'd just been discussing the weather.
He reached for his hat. "Best finish that plowing. We've other
business afoot."

Morrow leaned over the low wooden cradle by Lizzy's bed,
her face awash with wonder. Besides Little Eli, this was but the
second newborn she'd held, and the same sense of awe wrapped
round her heart. The other women in the room seemed more interested in visiting with Lizzy and hearing the details of the birth
instead of paying the baby any attention. All but Morrow.

"Go ahead;' Lizzy urged, leaning back against the headboard.
"Pick him up. He won't break."

"I reckon not;' Jemima drawled in the too warm room. "He's
heavier than a sack of shot, though I don't know why. You and
Abe ain't nothing but broomsticks"

Gently, Morrow scooped him up, tucking his head under her
chin. His fair scalp was peeling a bit and he had red blotches on
his face, but she found him beautiful. He smelled a sight better
than Little Eli, given Good Robe's generous applications of bear
oil. A Shawnee custom, she supposed. But this baby, whom they
were calling Jordan Abraham, smelled sweet as spring. Cradling
him, an overwhelming longing washed over her.

She turned back to the bed. "You did fine, Lizzy. He's just
beautiful:"

"Fine?" Jemima snorted, looking askance at the baby. "I heard
her screaming clear down to my cabin. You would have thought
she was giving birth to a buffalo'

Lizzy blanched, and Morrow felt a flash of irritation. "Childbirth isn't for cowards, Jemima. Just you wait and see"

"And how would you know?" she demanded, her gaze hard
as river rock again. "You ain't even been kissed"

Aunt Sally chuckled and drew Jemima aside as if to quell a
coming confrontation. They spoke in low tones, leaving Lizzy to
finish her conversation with Abe's mother and sisters. Morrow
moved toward the door, standing in the fresh air, well away from
the smoking grease lamps. Surely the dirty interior of the cabin
couldn't be good for a baby. An infant needed clean, fresh air. A
shaft of sunlight hit them, and he mewled like a kitten, melting
into her. The weight of him was so soft, so warm. Already she
rued releasing him.

Since arriving but an hour before, she'd tried to strike a normal
tone with Lizzy and keep peace with Jemima, but the secret she
was hiding weighted her like stone. Moments ago she'd seen
Pa disappear into the tiny cabin that was Robbie's and shut the
door. While she waited, she tried not to think of all its implications. The newborn she now held seemed a promise of her own.
What would it be like to live with a man ... carry his child? The
prospect of being tied to Robbie in such an intimate way filled
her with a near-smothering dread.

Lord, help me honor my word and make Pa's last days easier
to bear.

She clenched her jaw till it hurt and looked out over the long
rectangular common, so busy now that warmer weather was
here. She could hear snatches of conversation amidst the dust
and confusion within fort walls. War talk ... always war. Both
the one in the East and the one on the frontier.

Morrow stepped into the shade of the cabin eave as a man
striding toward her came sharply into focus. The sun struck each
polished brass button, highlighting his epaulets and tailored coat.
She shrank back, alarm filling every inch of her. She hadn't seen
Major McKie since the awkward supper in Lizzy's cabin. She'd
heard-hoped-he was away on a foray with his men.

She clutched the baby closer, a bit frantic. It wouldn't do to
step back inside the cabin. As much as she disliked McKie, she
couldn't be rude and cause a ruckus. She must keep the peace,
be civil. She was afraid of what he might do if she didn't.

"Miss Little, you make a fetching sight with an infant in your
arms."

His voice mellowed to a smooth timbre when he spoke to
her. She didn't return his gaze but instead glanced past him to
Robbie Clay's cabin. He removed his hat and tucked it under
one arm so he was able to take her free hand. When his cold
lips touched her skin, she wanted to shudder.

"Good afternoon, Major McKie. You've returned early from
your foray." Could the collected voice be hers? She sounded like
a Philadelphia lady exchanging pleasantries with some fawning
officer.

He looked pleased. "Yes, and a successful venture it was, I
must say. How are things with you and your father on the Red
River?"

She merely smiled, or tried to, but words were denied her.

His gaze was steadfast. "Peaceful, I trust. Not a savage in
sight?"

The question rattled her beyond all reasoning. She murmured,
"No trouble to speak of, perhaps on account of your coming"
The lie seemed to burn her lips. What on earth made her flatter
him? Fear, she guessed.

He looked smug, moving nearer and making her want to
take a step back. "Is this Abraham and Elizabeth's infant? Let
me see."

To her surprise, he took the baby from her, holding him aloft
so that his tiny head lopped to one side. Clearly, the major was
more accustomed to drilling soldiers than holding babies. Was
he trying to convince her otherwise, leave her with the impression that he was a family man, fond of children? She reached out to take the baby back, but Alice appeared, coming up behind
them and fussing over her nephew.

"Here, let me have him," she said. "I've hardly had the chance
to hold him with all these womenfolk about. And I'm his aunt!"
She disappeared inside the cabin, leaving them alone in the dust
and sunlight.

McKie wasted no time in coming to the point. "I must speak
with your father. Is he within?"

"N-no, with Robbie Clay," Morrow blurted, adjusting her straw
hat so that it shielded her face from his steady gaze.

His gaze was sharp. "Robbie Clay?"

"He ... they have some business to discuss:" Only then did
she realize she'd misspoken.

His eyes swung to the far cabin Pa had entered, and his countenance seemed to harden. Did he suspect what their business
was about? If he knew, would he try to stop them?

She saw Lysander Clay emerge from the blockhouse that
served as McKie's quarters, his swagger evident in broad
daylight. She'd heard Robbie's younger brother had recently
joined the army, anxious to serve under McKie. Joe said he
was a chief's man, though she didn't know what that meant.
Light-headed, she excused herself and hurried back inside
with Lizzy and the cluster of women as Lysander huddled
with McKie.