Courting Morrow Little: A Novel (32 page)

Oh, Pa!

Dropping to her knees, she let out an anguished cry. He roused
and turned. "I'm not dead yet, Daughter" Color filled his wan
face. As he began coughing again, it seemed the most glorious
sound she'd ever heard. Only she couldn't stop crying.

The lines in his face deepened. "Morrow, what's come over
you?" He stroked her hair, and she cried till the candles were spent
and the fire begged for wood. "I think it's more than me you're
mourning. You're in need of a mother to discuss these matters of
the heart. I've long forgotten what it's like to be in love"

She said nothing, her cheek pressed against the dampness of
his nightshirt, thinking she'd misheard.

"I know you're in love with Red Shirt, Daughter. There's no
use denying it"

Still, she couldn't speak.

He went on, a bit breathless, each word labored. "You need
to take the happiness held out to you. Before it's too late"

When she heard hoofbeats long after dark, she feared the
worst. Trembling, she glanced at Pa as he slept, his coughing
quieted by a medicinal dose of whiskey. Moving to a shuttered
window, she peered through the wooden slats at the clearing
and outbuildings and saw a lone rider coming round the barn. Her eyes fastened on the moonlit figure as he dismounted, hope
rising. There was no mistaking the great height of him, the expert
way he handled his horse, the agile manner in which he crossed
the clearing toward the cabin.

Before he'd reached the steps, she'd unbarred and opened
the door. He stood stalwart before her, the crown of his dark
head touching the oak lintel as he entered, his broad shoulders
filling up the emptiness.

Her voice was shaky, a bit disbelieving. "I thought you'd
gone."

"I had to turn back:'

"Why?"

"All that matters is right here"

She took the heartfelt words in, aware of the keen warmth in his
eyes. He set his rifle by the door and barred it while she crossed to
the hutch to get cider and bread. When she turned around, he was
behind her in the shadows, well beyond the pale light of the lamps,
making her forget why she was there in the first place.

14morrow, I don't want to eat, he told her gently.

She set the cider down, tears lining her eyes, afraid to look
at him lest she collapse crying in his arms. She was so tiredbenumbed, even-her emotions scattered. Could he tell just
by looking at her?

His own face bore weary lines as if he'd come a long distance,
a few strands of charcoal hair escaping his loosely tied queue.
He took her hands. "I know things have been hard for you."

Hard? No, nearly beyond endurance. But she couldn't say
all that haunted her-McKie and his traitorous accusations, Pa
losing his life by slow degrees before her very eyes, the depth
of her feelings for a man she shouldn't love. She looked away
briefly, throat tight, trying to stay calm. The seconds ticked by,
and the sadness and confusion she'd pushed down for so long
started to give way beneath his tender gaze. Taking back her
hands, she covered her face and began to cry.

In moments she was overcome by his tobacco-laden scent
and the warm, unyielding length of him, her head tucked in the
hollow between his chest and shoulder, his arms tight around her.
Behind them, Pa still slept, but it was an uneasy sleep, broken
by an unsettling rattle in his chest.

Her voice was a whisper. "Why did you come back?'Tis not
safe"

"I came back to finish what we last started"

Did he mean their near embrace in the barn? Before Pa came
in? His mouth was warm against her ear, his fingers stroking
her hair, which frayed at the touch of his callused hand. "I came
back to ask you to be my wife"

The words, so long wished for, were every bit as sweet as
she'd hoped they'd be. But here in this shadowed corner, with
Pa so ill ... "Do you love me? Or do you feel pity for me, alone,
almost fatherless?"

"Not pity, Morrow. Love. The love between a man and a
woman."

Her lips parted in a sort of wonder. "Have you ever been in
love?"

"Not till now ... not till you"

"Then how can you be ... sure?"

"I know my mind, my heart:"

His quiet confidence-the intimacy of his words-kindled
something deep inside her. All the months of hiding, of trying
to deny him, began to erode like river sand. He was offering her
what no man had ever done. His heart, an honorable proposal,
a home.

Her thoughts began racing, grappling with the enormity of
his asking. "Where would we go ... where would we live?"

"There's new land west of the Mississippi. Few people have
settled there. I want us to be among the first"

West. Far from bloodshed and betrayal and lonesome graves behind a paling fence. He was looking down at her, his eyes
lingering on her loosened hair. Was he already imagining her
living alongside him, preparing his meals, sharing his bed? He'd
never touched her in that way, yet someday she might bear his
child. The thought filled her with a severe longing.

Reaching up, she touched his cheek, the silence between
them brimming. She wanted to give an answer-to ease the
pain and passion in his face-but the words lodged so tight in
her throat she couldn't speak. It mattered little that she loved
him. Did she love him enough?

"For a long time I put down my feelings for you ... but I
can't do so any longer," he said. He drew her nearer, touching
her with his eyes and his hands in a wordless sort of lovemaking that stole her very breath. There were no barriers between
them now, just this exquisite confession of feelings, heart to
heart and soul to soul. "I'll walk away from you, if that's what
you want. Yet I feel .." He swallowed hard, his voice a whisper.
"I feel when I'm with you that you love me too"

Broken, she gave way, aware of the slightly wild, erratic rhythm
of his heartbeat against her own. She clung to him, her fists
full of the soft fringe of his frocked shirt, her need of him so
overwhelming she started to cry all over again.

He smoothed her tumbled hair, his mouth brushing her ear
and temple, his voice low and sweet and anguished. "Morrow
... let me love you"

Yes, her heart cried. Yes ... yes ... yes.

He continued to hold her, pouring strength and comfort into
her till her crying subsided. When his hands fell away, she felt
a startling emptiness. "For now I'll say no more. In the morning I'll speak with your father. I won't go against his wishes. Or
your own."

With that, he turned away, took up his rifle, and left the
cabin.

She awoke to complete and utter stillness. Had Red Shirt
gone? Or had Pa passed in the night? She hurried and dressed,
crossing to her window half a dozen times in hopes of seeing
them outside, not bothering to subdue her hair into its usual
chignon. Stepping onto the landing, she waited for the welcome
aroma of coffee, but all she smelled was wood smoke and tobacco. The hearth chairs were askew, and she wondered if they'd
already spoken. Had he asked Pa for her hand while she slept
unawares upstairs?

Heart in her throat, she stepped onto the front porch, finding
the edges touched with frost, the remaining flowers bitten by
the cold, their bright colors faded. Relief filled her when she saw
them in the pasture-Pa working to keep upright with his cane
but looking bent and rusty as an old nail beside the youthful,
strapping Red Shirt. She sat down on the edge of her churning
chair, but her eyes ran after them, hungry to hear what it was
they said. Odd how they stood tall one moment, then knelt down
the next. Even on his knees before a fallen log, Red Shirt's height
was apparent. She stared in surprise as he bent his head.

Was he ... praying?

Emotion flooded her. Half an hour passed before they came
back, each moment making her more breathless and tense. Taking a shaky step off the porch, she smoothed the creases of her
skirt. But he only glanced at her before walking away, leaving
Pa to hobble toward her in the fragile morning's light.

"But I-he-" she half whispered into empty air.

"He'll be back," Pa reassured her, trying to get his breath. "He
said he spoke to you last night and told you of his feelings"

She nodded, eyes lingering on him as he disappeared into
the woods.

"This morning he asked me for your hand in marriage. But
before I give my blessing, there are some things you need to understand:' She felt a tremor of alarm and looked down at her
feet. He continued quietly, eyes on the woods. "In the meadow
there, while you waited, he asked if God would accept such a
man as he:"

She turned back to him, full of wonder.

"He spoke of those times in battle when he was a party to
scalps taken and forts burned, and killing Major McKie-"

"No, Pa-please. . " Her face turned entreating, and she held
up a hand as if to stop the unwelcome words.

His eyes held a warning. "You need to listen, Morrow. There
should be no secrets between the two of you, feeling as you do.
Fortunately, God's grace is far greater than anything he's done.
And Red Shirt's as sincere in his repentance as any man I've
ever seen."

He began coughing again and turned to go into the cabin,
leaving her alone on the porch. Oh, Pa, what should I do? Was
God displeased with such a union? Was she willing to look
beyond his past to the man he'd become, having given his life
to God? By loving him-marrying him-was she betraying the
memory of Ma and Euphemia and Jess?

A misting rain began to fall, erasing the blue sky and filling
in the woods with gray. She was alone, truly alone, with her impossible decision. A flash of brown filled her vision as Red Shirt
came back into the clearing. With as much composure as she
could muster, she walked over the cold ground to meet him, rain
pelting her face. He'd accept whatever decision she made, he'd
said. He'd walk away from her if that was what she wanted.

Lord, what would You have me do?

Standing before him, she felt a sudden settling, a peace she
couldn't explain.

You need to take the happiness held out to you. Before its
too late.

Reaching for his hand, she brought it to her cheek like she had in the barn that stormy night, knowing that she'd loved
him even then. His face was poignant, perhaps a bit disbelieving, touching her so deeply she found it hard to say what she
was now sure of.

"I want to be your wife," she began a bit breathlessly. "I want
to be yours ... wholly and completely."

He didn't take her in his arms as she thought he might, but
a look of pure pleasure shone in his eyes. Despite the stinging
rain, they stood staring at each other as if weighing all the implications of what they'd just done, were about to do.

His hazel eyes were sharp. "You're sure?"

"Yes" Beneath her bodice, her heart swelled with a joy unknown to her before. Behind her, the cabin door opened and
Pa appeared on the porch. They turned to face him, and Red
Shirt's voice carried across the still clearing.

"Your daughter has agreed to become my wife:"

Silence. Was Pa as pleased as she hoped he'd be?

"Well then, he said at last, "let's have a wedding"

Here and now? The suddenness of it stole her breath, but
the satisfaction on Pa's face spurred her on. Now anxious to be
out of the rain, she made a dash for the porch, her soon-to-be
husband at her heels.

Up the cabin stairs she went without a word to anyone. Impatience pulsed through her as she rummaged through the dark
wardrobe, fingertips seeking the lush velvet. Draping it across
the bed, she shed her damp dress and left it puddling on the
floor, not wanting to keep them waiting. The heavy gown fell
into place, covering her embroidered under things. She didn't
bother with a brush but left her hair unbound, liking the way
the dampness curled and twisted the length of it.

Her hands felt a bit empty as she recalled Lizzy's bouquet.
Coming down the stairs, she spied some bittersweet atop the
mantel. Plucking it from its cracked jar, she brought it to her nose as if its peculiar scent could steady her. Though she longed
for the roses of June, this would have to do.