Choices of the Heart (34 page)

Her hair helped in that. It caught the wind and veiled his face, tangled in the buttons at the neck of his shirt, wrapped itself around his neck like a ribbon or a noose.

Laughing, he took the reins in one hand and gathered the shining mass of waves into a queue. “No wonder females scarce ever carry weapons. They can kill a man with this stuff.”

“There’s a Scandinavian legend about a king who killed his enemy with his hair. Strangled him.”

“I believe it was the truth.” He smoothed the tail of her hair over her shoulder. “Hold it. You think Hannah or Aunt Tamar could have given you some pins.”

“They offered, but I hated taking from them. They have so little.”

“They have so little?” Griff laughed. “They’d have twice as much as us even if they didn’t have the mine too. That ferry brings in a tidy income.”

“But their house. It hardly has any furniture.”

“Aunt Tamar is frugal and keeps her hand firmly on the purse strings. But she’ll give Zach whatever he wants.”

“That won’t be me.” Her tone was cold, her spine stiff.

“Why not?” Griff drew her back against him with one arm around her waist, a more comfortable way for them both to ride, more secure for her precarious perch ahead of him.

She didn’t relax into his chest as she should, and Sunset tossed his head, snorting, feeling the tension atop his back.

“Settle yourself,” Griff murmured into her ear. “You’re upsetting the horse.”

“How can I when you get upset with me for—for touching you?”

“Miss Esther, I don’t get upset with you touching me. I like that maybe more than I should. I get upset with you using your pretty eyes and soft hands to do what you want. I think it right tawdry of you, like—like—”

“Like those letters are true?”

If she behaved like that with the men of Seabourne, they probably held some truth. But why would she? The Docherty family so obviously loved her. Her own parents must too. Yet she’d run from that love to the arms of strangers.

Only something awful would drive a body away from family who cared. Like Bethann waiting for him to return with money so she could flee the mountain and her disgrace, even though they all loved her and told her she could stay.

Bethann had strayed on her own this time, but before it hadn’t been that way, and it had started a war between families.

“Esther?” No, he couldn’t ask a female such a thing. He could only protect her. “I don’t care about what those letters said.”

She said nothing in response, but her back relaxed, her head nestled into his shoulder. He kept Sunset to an easy pace, not caring how long he took to get them home.

Esther fell asleep against him. She trusted him enough to sleep in his arms. He would settle for that.

They reached home at dusk. The air smelled of frying pork and rang with the joyous shouts of the children swarming out to greet them.

“You brought her home.” Ned hugged Esther the instant Griff set her on the ground, then backed off, blushing.

She smiled down at him. “That’s the nicest present I think I’ve ever gotten.”

Ned glowed, and Griff loved her all the more.

“Did you bring us presents?” Brenna asked Griff.

“Why’d you have to go anyway?” Jack asked.

Esther shot him a look with arched brows that asked the same question.

“I had business to see to. As for presents”—he tugged Brenna’s pigtail—“maybe.”

“But you promised,” Brenna wailed. “You’d think we were as poor as the Neffs, my ribbons all look so shabby.”

“Brenna, that ain’t nice,” Liza said, then clapped her hand to her mouth.

Esther smiled. “I see I’ve been gone too long.”

“Why are you wearing your hair down?” Brenna turned her big eyes on Esther. “Did my brother do that? It’s indecent that you—”

“Brenna, go inside,” Griff said with quiet firmness. “If you’ve done all your chores, I’ll see what I brought you and if you can have it. But only if you apologize.”

“But it’s true. Momma says—ouch, Jack, why’d you kick me?”

“All of you, inside.” Griff clamped a hand on Jack’s shoulder and steered him toward the house. “I’ll be inside as soon as I rub down this poor beast and give Miss Esther her things.”

“And kiss her good night,” Brenna shot back as she slipped in through the back door.

Griff glanced at Esther, couldn’t stop himself from looking at her lips. A kiss would please him greatly. She might even kiss him back again. But decency said he shouldn’t now any more than he should have on Independence Day.

He swallowed down disappointment. “I bought some new pins for Momma and Liza. She’s getting old enough to start putting up her hair. I expect there’s enough for you too.”

“Thank you. I seem to have lost a number of them since getting here.”

“I’ll bring them by later.” He glanced at the darkening sky now that the sun had dropped behind the western mountains. “Or maybe it should wait for tomorrow.”

“Yes, it probably should.”

“Will you come to the house for supper?”

“No, thank you. I’d like to go to my room and sleep.”

“Then I’ll see you in the morning.” He satisfied himself with a brush of his fingertips across her cheek, as soft as the petal of a flower, then stood beside his horse while she crossed the yard to her house. Once she was inside and the bolt shot home, Griff took the gelding to the barn and unloaded it. He had plenty of excuses to go see her in the morning. He still carried her satchel, as she’d forgotten it for once. He also had the basket of herbs and oils from the doctor.

He stowed the things for Esther in an empty stall, then carried the other packages to the house. Momma and Pa greeted him with nods and questions about his journey. The children clamored for whatever he had brought them, and from the far doorway, Bethann scanned his face with anxious eyes.

He inclined his head and dropped one hand to his breeches pocket. Bethann half smiled before slipping away. She could be gone in a day or two, and maybe, with her presence away from the ridge, the families could forget about the cause of the feud. Griff could correspond with her—she wrote well enough to do that—and ensure she had enough to support her and the baby if the father wouldn’t support her.

Conscious of the money burning in his pocket, he realized he shouldn’t give it to Bethann without telling Momma and Pa. Yet if he told them, he would break Bethann’s trust and she might disappear from them forever. For all the trouble she had caused, Bethann was kin. He couldn’t lose Bethann as Esther’s parents had come so close to losing her.

Esther crawled into the bed and slept until past dawn. She hadn’t been able to sleep in a real bed for more than a few hours in over two weeks. She had enjoyed no privacy. This was coming home.

To cap off the impression, the cats greeted her outside her cabin door, twining themselves around her ankles, purring like steam engines interspersed with squeaky meows.

She stooped to pet them, the skirt of her pink muslin gown billowing around her. “You two need more cedar. I hope I can find some. And you’re going to have those kittens any day now, aren’t you, momma cat?”

“Meow. Meow.”

She rubbed chins, promised them breakfast, and glanced up to see Griff smiling down at her, his hands laden with parcels.

“May I help you?” She intended to sound cool; she sounded breathless.

“I can help you.” He held out the packages. “Let’s take ’em inside. Some of this is for the schoolroom.”

“Chalk?”

“And new slates.”

“Bless you.” She sprang to her feet and flung open the schoolroom door. “That was so kind of you. The children probably haven’t missed their lessons. I know Sam and Mattie haven’t. But I’ve missed teaching them.”

“They have, though. Even Brenna.” Griff set the chalks and slates on the table, then returned to stand directly in front of Esther. “This basket is from your doctor friend. I think he suspected it was you the minute I mentioned you, ’cause he started filling this basket with all sorts of stuff.”

“Uncle Rafe did?” Esther fairly snatched the basket from him and began to plow through it, lifting up the packets and sniffing them, looking at the labels on the vials of oils. “Cloves, cinnamon, thyme. Lovely.”

“You going to cook or heal people?” Griff’s eyes glowed like the sun-washed sky outside.

Esther laughed. “I could do both. These are sovereign remedies for many things. Oh, a whole gingerroot. I suppose I’ll have to write to thank him. And you for carrying it back.”

“I’d have carried more.” Griff ducked his head, his curly hair sliding across his brow. He tossed a smaller parcel from hand to hand, then thrust it at her without looking. “This is from me.”

“Griff, you shouldn’t. That is . . . is it all right?” Her hand shook, making the wrapping crackle.

“Momma said it was.”

“Your momma has ideas I—well, thank you.” Esther kept her own head bowed as she set the package on the table and pulled the knotted string apart.

The paper fell away to reveal half a dozen ivory hairpins and a length of ivory satin ribbon embroidered with purple violets. Simple. Elegant. Probably the most precious gift she’d ever received. Her throat closed, and she couldn’t speak.

“It’s the flower you use for your scent,” Griff said tentatively. “Violets, I think?”

She nodded, her heart thumping at the notion that he recognized her scent and remembered it.

“It ain’t much. Just a bit of fancy ribbon, but the girls like ’em, so I thought . . . maybe . . . you . . .” He trailed off.

The cabin fell silent save for a fly buzzing against the window. The intermittent hum as it beat itself against the glass emphasized the stillness.

Then someone called Griff’s name from across the yard, and he shuffled his feet without moving. “I should be going.”

“Not yet.” She forced the words out. “Please, I—” She swallowed and raised her gaze to his face. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. It’s—It’s—” She held out her hands to him.

He started to clasp them in his.

“There you are. I should have known.” Brenna stomped into the schoolroom. “Bethann is in the barn, and I can’t get her to wake up.”

30

Esther gathered up her skirts and charged for the barn, the others racing behind her. “Keep Brenna and the other young ones out,” she flung over her shoulder.

In Bethann’s condition, anything might be possible. Blood. Too much blood for children to see.

But no blood pooled around Bethann. She lay curled up on a pile of straw in one of the stalls, only a thready pulse in her neck indicating she was still alive.

“What’s wrong?” Griff crouched beside Esther.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” She caught the edge in her voice, desired to beat her fist against the wooden partition, and took two long, deep breaths before speaking again. “I’m not a doctor. I’m a midwife, and not a very good one at that. My last patient died.”

“Zach didn’t.”

“He was young and healthy. Bethann is starving herself to death.” Esther lifted one of the woman’s hands. “Ned’s wrist is thicker than—what’s this?”

Bethann’s hand gripped something even in her unconsciousness. Esther pried it out of the bony fingers and stared at the handwritten label on the bottle.
Laudanum.

Her head spun. Stars danced before her eyes. She swayed, and Griff wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “What is it?”

“Laudanum. It’s a mixture of spirits and opium for serious cases of pain.” She held the bottle to the light from the door. More than half of the contents were missing. “It must have been in that basket of things from Uncle Rafe. This is his handwriting. And I doubt he sent me anything but a full bottle.”

“You think she took all of this?” Griff removed the flask from Esther’s hand.

“It’s unlikely she spilled it, or we would smell it.” She bent close to Bethann, sniffing.

She caught the hint of spirits on the woman’s faint breaths, but nowhere else. She reached to examine her as she had done for so many women, remembered Griff beside her, and stopped. “We need to get her someplace better than this. My room will do.”

“Shouldn’t we wake her?”

“Yes, we’ll try, but let me examine her first in the event she’s, um, terminating.”