Courting Morrow Little: A Novel (46 page)

"We can't stay here any longer" He hesitated, and she could
see his jaw tighten in a way that revealed his inner turmoil. "We
need to move on like we planned:"

She looked down at their babies-so new and vulnerable they made her heart ache. "You're not telling me everything.
Something is wrong. I can sense it"

Their eyes met, and his shimmered like a dark pool. "I'm leaving for Missouri as soon as you're settled at Loramie's."

"You're going on without us?" The words were an alarmed
whisper on the warm air.

"When I file our claim with the Spanish government and
finish our cabin, I'll return and take you there"

She felt a chill and groped for words, trying to find reason
in what he said. But it made no more sense than when he'd left
for Fort Pitt. Was God telling him to go once again? Concern
gripped her as she struggled to stay calm in the face of another
setback.

"The winter will be a hard one. There's not as much game as
there used to be. I can't have you with me when the babies are
so small. Loramie's is the only safe haven"

"But if you go so far away .." Her voice broke, and she looked
down in confusion, her feelings in such disarray that all her
heartfelt words scattered.

"Morrow, look at me"

But she couldn't. The sting of his leaving, of his not telling her
till now, hurt more deeply than anything that had gone before.
"You're leaving me at Loramie's because I'm weak-a burden"

"I'm taking you to Loramie's because I want you to be safe"

The patience in his voice was fraying, and she knew she was
stretching the very seams of it, yet she continued in a little rush,
"As long as we have food-shelter-we'll follow you anywhere"

"There's more that you don't know. It's no longer safe for us
to stay here. The Bluecoats are threatening to invade the middle
ground and burn more Shawnee towns after the trouble at Fort
Pitt:" He took up the stick to stir the ashes again, and the fire in
his eyes seemed to skewer her with their intensity. "We leave
for Loramie's at first light. That is all I have to say."

The pickets of Loramie's Station seemed edged in gold as the
sun slid west and ushered in a warm August twilight. Morrow
rode toward the tranquil scene on her mare, the twins snug
against her in a soft cloth sling. Ahead of her was Red Shirt on
the black stallion and Trapper Joe alongside him on his bay.
The dry grass rustled beneath the horses' hooves, and the fading scent of summer perfumed the air. On the shadowed plain
outside the open doors of the station were even more shelters
than she remembered, fires flickering like fallen stars upon the
ground. Her relief at arriving safely was tainted by one joystealing thought.

Is Loramie's Station any safer than a Shawnee town?

Within the post's dusty confines, Loramie greeted them more
like family than friends, insisting they stay at the house rather
than return to their cabin. Angelique led the way upstairs to
their former room, her daughters hovering as Morrow lowered
the babies into a waiting cradle's cocoonlike folds. Rosebud lay
quietly and didn't make a sound, but her brother waved fat fists
and his dark eyes seemed to snap.

Angelique chuckled. "That one will be climbing out of his
cradle before the Cold Moon"

Morrow tickled his bare belly, and he kicked a leg, coming
free of his wrap. "My little son has wrapped me round his finger
since I first set eyes on him"

"Have you named him?"

"Not yet, Morrow said, thinking of how distracted they'd
been. "We haven't been able to agree on a name. And with all
the trouble .."

Angelique's smile faded. "Oui, oui, but the trouble is far from
here" She turned away, calling for a serving girl to bring up hot
water and refreshments.

In the days to come, Morrow would watch from her upstairs
window as Red Shirt disappeared into their cabin across the
common to sort through what he would take west. Despite his
impending departure, she continued to pray he'd change his
mind. As August moved into September, she thought he might.
Not one word did he utter about leaving. For a time he took
up scouting again, though he was never gone for long, always
returning to them at day's end to eat in the ornate dining room
and make much of the twins. Could it be he found it as hard
leaving her as she did him?

But their idyll was not to last. Inexplicably she sensed a
change coming. Even the babies seemed to grow restless. During dinner one night, she could hear their cries through the
paneled wood walls, though Esme tried to quiet them. Leaving
her plate unfinished, she hurried upstairs to nurse them, and
Red Shirt joined her soon after. Stripping off his fine shirt in
the stifling room, he sat on a fragile Windsor chair beside her
a bit uncomfortably, even warily, as if he doubted its fine lines
could hold him.

"It's time we christen our son, as the English say, he told her,
taking the squirming boy from her though he grunted a protest.
"The Shawnee are beginning to call him Boy With No Name"

She smiled and tied the strings of her shift closed, studying
father and son in the light of the sconce on the mantel above.
The similarities were startling, from the golden-brown hue of their eyes to the stubborn slant of jaw. "He's so like you;' she said,
"that if we named him anything else, it would be wrong."

He looked thoughtful. "I think we should call him Jess'

The heartfelt words sent a river of warmth through her, and
she said, "I think Pa-and Jess-would be pleased"

Passing her their sturdy son, he gathered up their daughter.
She awoke with such a pathetic little mewl they both laughed.
Bringing her near, he smoothed the heat-dampened hair atop
her head, and she regarded him with eyes that had darkened to
indigo. Watching them, Morrow felt a shaft of j oy thrust through
her turmoil. Here in this room at day's end was all she held most
dear ... yet soon Red Shirt would leave them.

Scraps of an earlier conversation, most of it disturbing, returned to her now in the heat and stillness of the bedroom. At
dinner, all the details previously denied her had been laid out
like cards on a table. Come morning, Red Shirt would head west.
Though the Spanish claimed exclusive rights to the Missouri territory, the ties they boasted of were mere spiderwebbing, Loramie
said. Few Spaniards were there, and only a scattering of French
and Indians. Settlement, he assured them, was wide-open.

Loramie's manner, usually one of contagious joie de vivre, had
seemed almost sullen in the candlelight. "Although the Americans have only threatened to torch more Shawnee towns, I have
heard rumblings the whole of Ohio will soon be filled with
smoke"

Joe grimaced and looked up from his plate. "I misdoubt they'll
cross the Ohio like they're thunderin' Even with reinforcements
comin' from Virginia, Kentucke's got precious few men with the
war blazin' in the East:'

"'Twould be a fine time for the British and their Indian allies
to sneak across the Ohio and take back the Kentucke territory,"
Loramie mused. "But I have heard they sit in their camps like
drunken dogs and do nothing."

"Maybe neither side will move and there'll be peace, Joe said,
looking doubtful.

"My concern is this colonel called Clark," Loramie told them,
emptying his wine glass.

"Aw, Clark's too busy at the Falls of the Ohio to make trouble
this far north, Joe said. "At least with winter comin"

Loramie nodded thoughtfully. "Fortunately, making war in
winter is a miserable affair-the only point of agreement between
the Americans and us-so we will likely rest easy till spring.
But I have been thinking of taking Angelique and the children
to d'Etroit for safekeeping next year until I can determine what
the Bluecoats will do"

"I knew there would be trouble after the failed treaty at Fort
Pitt," Red Shirt said.

Loramie nodded again and motioned the serving girl forward
to pour more wine. "Such a fracas did not endear the Shawnee
to the Americans. They now have even more reason to drive the
Shawnee out of their Ohio homelands. And I have heard more
troubling news. It seems some of the Shawnee have crossed over
to the Americans and become spies and scouts"

Red Shirt nodded. "Rum is a powerful weapon"

"Sadly, it is so. But no one likes a traitor-not even the Americans-and that is what these turncoats have become. Once
they have led the soldiers to the Shawnee villages, the Bluecoats
will likely be rid of them and refuse to pay them in trade goods
and spirits"

"I'd best get home before I get caught in the middle of the
tussle, Joe said, throwing his napkin down. "I've been gone so
long Good Robe likely thinks I ain't comin' back"

Lying atop the feather tick, Morrow tried to empty her mind
of the troubling talk at dinner. Beside her, the babies' gentle breathing, synchronized even in sleep, solaced her a bit. She
stirred as Red Shirt got up and crossed to the open window and
pushed the shutters aside. Cool air threaded through the stale
room. Though autumn, it was still hot as a kiln. Spring seemed
years away ...

She watched him lean against the rough window frame and
look west, unaware of her scrutiny. Moonlight limned all the
pensive lines of his striking face, and her heart squeezed tight.
Was he thinking of his father? Leaving at first light? Crossing
the Mississippi before the first snow? Was he wishing he was
outside, under the stars, away from this breathless room smelling
of dried lavender and dust and babies? She remembered how
he'd once stood by her attic window, looking down on McKie
and his men that winter's eve. When he'd left, she'd feared he'd
never come back, but after long, lonesome months, he had.
Would God return him to her once again?

When at last he lay down, he reached for her, one hand brushing the dampness of her face. "Morrow, are you crying?"

Unable to answer, she felt the mattress move beneath his
weight as he gathered her up in his arms. She placed a tentative
hand on his bare skin, relearning the wide lines of his shoulders
and the smooth slope of his chest. They'd not come together
in so long he seemed oddly unfamiliar. When he kissed the
hollow of her throat, she shivered, her need of him scattering
her senses. But she lay back in the crook of his arm, willing her
body to heal, tamping down her heartache.