Under the Same Sky (36 page)

Andrew hadn’t known what to expect when they stepped into the cabin. Soquili moved aside, probably feeling his appearance would frighten the girls more than theirs, but Andrew wasn’t sure if he was right.

He glanced over his shoulder toward Maggie, but couldn’t see her.

“It will be over soon,”
he told her, and relief tickled through his mind like a spring shower.

Iain knocked on the door. There was no response from within, but they hadn’t expected one. After a moment Iain opened the door.

Six girls huddled together in one corner of the room, their eyes huge with fear, their meager dresses torn and bloodstained. The air was heavy with a nauseating blend of sweat, stale sex, urine, and fear. Iain dropped to a crouch, as he had when he first met Peter
and Flora in the woods. The girls watched him, but their gazes flicked behind him, at the imposing profiles of Andrew and Soquili.

“We’re here to set ye free,” Iain told them.

The girls stared, mute.

“We’ll take care of ye now,” Iain said.

One girl pointed a trembling finger at Soquili. “He’s an Indian,” she said in a terrified whisper. Soquili rolled his eyes, annoyed. Andrew hid a smile.

“Aye, he’s that,” Iain assured her. “But no’ the kind of Indian ye need fear. We’ll help ye from this place an’ have ye cared for. Ye’ve nothin’ to fear from any of us.”

One of the girls began to weep, and another joined in. Their sobs tore at Andrew’s heart, and he remembered Maggie’s bruised, tearstained face on that day so long before. His Maggie had lived through this as well.

“I wasna wi’ ye,”
he thought.

“You saved me,”
she whispered back.
“Now you can save them.”

“Come away,” Andrew said softly to the girls. “We’ve food an’ water, an’ horses to carry ye to a good bed. No one will touch ye unless ye need help.”

The girls rose slowly, leaning on each other for support. Andrew, Iain, and Soquili stood back and let them pass, ready to catch the fragile creatures if they lost their balance.

Maggie stood at the edge of the trees, watching. When the girls came outside, she ran toward them and offered whatever comfort she could manage. Tears had dried on her cheeks in little trails, but she smiled encouragement to each tortured face.

Andrew turned back inside and found the box in the corner of the single room. It was weathered and nondescript, not much more than two feet by three feet, not quite as high as his knees. Andrew
knelt beside the box, wedged his fingers under the bottom, then stopped as his head filled with the voices of so many young girls. He felt their terror, the pain, the despair, felt it shudder through his entire body. He let go and stared at the box, then touched it again.

“We will do all we can to bring ye justice, though it is far too late. May ye find peace where’er ye are,”
he said, and the frenzy of pleas began to slow.

Andrew left the box closed and cradled it against his chest. He carried it out the door, toward Maggie. She was kneeling beside a girl, wiping a cool, wet cloth over a dirty brow. When she saw Andrew, she rose and went to him, her steps unsure.

She stared at the box, and he sensed her dread. He set it on the grass in front of her, then stepped away, wanting to give her room to breathe.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, sinking to her knees. Adelaide joined her on the grass, and the sisters stared at the box.

Andrew walked around so he could touch Maggie’s back, offering support. He knelt behind her and kissed the side of her neck, feeling goose bumps rise on her skin. She trembled under his fingers, and he felt her urge to run, to forget the pain in the box, to escape with him and never dream of it again. But the voices called to her as they had to him, needing to be heard.

Maggie unhooked the clasp and lifted the top. She reached within the worn planks and Andrew’s fingers tingled, as if the girls held his hand, and he knew Maggie had opened her mind to share everything with him. The first thing Maggie pulled from the box was the blue ribbon that had been yanked from her hair so long before. She drew it loose, flattened the length of it between her fingers, then wrapped the ribbon loosely around her neck and tied the ends into a bow. She took another breath, then withdrew Adelaide’s bracelet and gave it to her sister. Adelaide slid it over her wrist without a word. Then
Maggie rested her forehead against the edge of the box and reached for Addy’s hand. She forced her other hand back into the box and closed her fingers around the waist of a little rag doll. The tiny body shook as Maggie lifted it, then held it to her chest. Her grief seized Andrew and whispered in his mind.

“My sister, Ruth.”

Iain rode to New Windsor with the evidence.

Maggie had told Iain everything about Captain Quinn and his business. Iain listened with unswerving attention, the changing expressions on his wide, bearded face reflecting strong emotions. She told him there was only one man she trusted with the evidence: Sergeant MacMillan, the officer to whom she had confessed immediately following Quinn’s death. There were men of power in the town who would want to seize the incriminating evidence within the box, and Iain would have to be on guard for them.

No one would get in Iain’s way. Andrew felt confident the evidence would be presented, the story told in all its horrific detail, and Maggie would be vindicated. It wasn’t going to be an easy process, since the judge and other prominent figures were involved in Quinn’s business. But there were too many witnesses now, witnesses who were more than willing to stand up and point accusing fingers.

That was why Andrew hadn’t let Maggie go with Iain. The army
was scouring the forest for her, Soquili, and Wahyaw. They wouldn’t hesitate to pluck the three off the street and drop them behind bars.

The rescued girls yielded to Iain’s soft promises that the Cherokee would not hurt them. They rode back to the village with Wahyaw and Soquili, where they would be tended by the healers. The Cherokee women would do what they could for the broken bodies, but the girls’ spirits would require more time. Two of the girls were very ill, their bodies torn, their eyes deadened. Andrew wasn’t sure they would survive.

Maggie, Adelaide, and Andrew walked to his home a few hours away. They took their time, depending on Maggie’s strength, stopping often to rest. When at last they reached the tiny settlement, Maggie took Andrew’s hand and squeezed it. He smiled, but a flurry of nerves bubbled through his chest.

“Would ye be happy livin’ here?” Andrew asked.

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“I mean, to leave the Cherokee an’ all—”

“Oh. No,” she said, her eyes glancing appreciatively around the houses, barn, and sheds. “I won’t ever leave them entirely. But I want to live with you. I want to be with you, in this house you built. It already feels like home.”

He squeezed her against his side and thought: yes, now that she was here, it did feel like home.

Seamus opened the door and discovered Andrew with two unknown women. They joined him inside and warmed themselves by a snapping fire while Andrew explained as much as he could. The children buzzed around him like flies until he told them where Iain had gone. Janet hung on a pot of stew over the hearth, brought the sisters something clean to wear, and checked Adelaide’s injury.

“Ye’re healin’ well,” she remarked.

Adelaide smiled and nodded. “Maggie’s a healer.”

“Oh, aye?” Janet looked impressed. “Lucky for you then. She’s done a fine job.”

Maggie took a sip of ale and smiled at Janet. “Thank you. And thank you for taking care of us.”

“We’re happy to have ye.” Janet turned to Andrew. “Andrew, if ye’d no’ mind, could ye maybe come wi’ me an’ bring in an armful o’ wood?”

Andrew glanced at the neat stack of wood by the fireplace, then at Seamus, who shrugged. “Aye,” Andrew said. “Let’s go.”

He squeezed Maggie’s shoulders and followed Janet to the tall stack of wood by the house. A step away from the woodpile, she turned on her heel and stared at him, hands planted on her hips.

“She’s her, isn’t she?”

Andrew blinked. “She’s who?”

She shoved at his arm. “Dinna fool wi’ me, Andrew. She’s the girl ye spoke of to me, so long ago. The girl ye’re promised to.”

“How could ye ken that?”

Janet’s smile was warm with pleasure for him. “Oh, Andrew. ’Tis written all o’er yer face. Ye’re the happiest I’ve seen, an’ you wi’out a bite to eat yet. Normally if ye’re no’ fed, ye’re no’ happy. But this Maggie—I think ye could go a week wi’ no meals an’ ye’d still smile.”

“A lifetime maybe,” he said, grinning helplessly.

Janet shook her head, watching him with wonder. “She’s a lucky thing, she is,” she said.

They headed back inside, arms full of kindling, and listened to Seamus entertain the girls with his endless chatter.

The fire burned low and warm, soothing as a soft blanket. Maggie and Adelaide were yawning behind their hands by the time the crickets started up their evening songs. Andrew suggested they stay in his room that night, and he would sleep by the fire.
They followed him to the bedroom, and Andrew watched Maggie’s reaction as she took in his meagre possessions, his unassuming bed, and the small table and chair by its foot. She closed her eyes and breathed in.

“It smells like you,” she told him.

That startled him, and his cheeks flared red. “Oh—shall I clean it then? I’m sorry. I ne’er expected—”

She turned toward him and put her palms against his chest. Her eyes were tired, but her giggle rang like little bells. “You smell wonderful,” she said.

Adelaide stood beside her sister, a curious smile on her face. “I’ll just go to bed now. You come in when you’re ready, Maggie. Thank you for letting us use your room, Andrew. And Andrew?”

“Aye?”

“Thank you for today. Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. If we hadn’t met you—”

“We would have met him eventually,” Maggie told her. “I always knew we would.”

Adelaide frowned, then shrugged. “Anyway,” she said. “Thank you.”

“I’m only glad we could help,” he said. “Sleep well. In the morn we’ll head to the village to see how the wee girls fare. Ye’ll need yer sleep for that.”

Adelaide nodded, then rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night,” she said, and shut the door behind her, leaving Andrew and Maggie standing in the hall.

“Come outside?” Maggie asked.

“Ye’re no’ too tired?”

“Just for a bit. I don’t want the day to end yet.”

“Nor do I,” he admitted. He grabbed a blanket before following her outside, then wrapped it around them both as they sat on a felled
tree trunk. It was a cool, crisp evening, and the sky was alight with stars. Maggie snuggled closer.

“I just need to touch you,” she said. “So I know I’m not dreaming.”

He kissed the back of her hand. They stared at the stars in silence, and Maggie caught her breath when one shot across the sky, then vanished just as suddenly. Andrew rested his cheek on her head and watched for the next shooting star. Then he heard:

“Can you still hear me?”

He turned and grinned at her.
“Aye, I can.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she smiled like a satisfied cat. “Good,” she said out loud. “I was hoping we could still do that.”

Andrew hooked a finger under her chin. He lifted her face and kissed her.

“I dinna mind so much,” he murmured. “As long as we can do that.”

When he thought she could stay awake no longer, Andrew gently lifted Maggie and carried her inside, where the dying embers of the hearth fire bade them good night. Adelaide was softly snoring when they opened the bedroom door, and Andrew kept very quiet as he laid Maggie in the bed beside her.

“Sleep well, my Maggie,”
he said in his mind.

She blinked heavily and gave him a sleepy smile that made him want to kiss her again.

“I will dream of you,”
she said.

“And in the mornin’ it will all come true, aye? Good night, Maggie.”
He gave her one more kiss, then left her in the darkened room, knowing she would be asleep in a few breaths.

His dreams were smooth and joyful and full of her. He slept deeply, knowing his waking moments would be the same.

In the morning they set off toward the Cherokee village. Andrew
was concerned with Maggie’s health and wanted to get her to the healers as soon as he could. She had slept well, but was emaciated and exhausted, needing comfort and rest as well as food. The messages that flowed constantly between them were there, but her voice seemed weak.

Andrew spent every moment with her, awake or asleep. He watched Waw-Li and learned from the shrunken woman, fascinated by her powers. The old woman barred other men from her house, but she enjoyed having Andrew there. She often said how the spirits had blessed her indeed, to have brought both the Raven and the Wolf to her.

Every day brought new colour to Maggie’s cheeks, more spring to her steps. When she spoke in his thoughts, her voice rang clearly again, and every word was like a touch of her lips on his skin.