LeClerc 03 - Wild Savage Heart (24 page)

Molly had thought it would be difficult for her to sleep on the trail. But she had forgotten to allow not only for her condition but also for the unaccustomed exercise.

Each night, as soon as the evening meal was dispensed with, she snuggled down on the bed Hawk had made for her. Two separate beds, side by side. He held her until she slept, chanting the familiar, wordless tune.

She never knew when he eased her from his shoulder, gently tucking the quilt beneath her chin. She didn’t see him slip from his own bed, every instinct alert, as he scouted the area around their camp. It never entered her mind that he slept so lightly that even the slightest change in sound would bring him fully awake and alert to danger.

She was protected and secure.

Hawk headed almost due north toward the eastern Tennessee town of Jonesborough. A friend from university days, John Childers, was from the area. He was the son of a Presbyterian minister, and Hawk hoped to enlist John’s help in persuading his father to perform a marriage ceremony.

Most people frowned on marriages between an Indian and a white person. In some places such unions were actually illegal. But Hawk had met the Reverend Childers several times and knew the man was accepting of his Indian heritage. He just hoped he would be as accepting when Hawk presented Molly to him and made his request.

By midmorning of the fourth day, they came to the home of William and Barsheba Cobb. The farm, called Rocky Mount because of the huge rocks at the front of the house, was a two-story log cabin with several outbuildings. Slaves and indentured servants kept the former home of territorial Governor William Blount in perfect condition.

“It’s lovely,” Molly exclaimed as they approached the house.

Hawk reined his horse to a stop and waited for her to come up beside him. He studied her with such intensity that Molly had to fight the urge to fidget.

“I intend to make a short stop here and then go on to Jonesborough,” he finally stated. “This is your last chance to avoid a life that might bring you more pain than happiness.”

“Are you trying to avoid marrying me?” Molly asked, anger burning in her gaze.

“Our marriage will never be easy. It will cause you to be ridiculed by some and scorned by others.”

“Our marriage will be made more difficult because you can’t resist reminding me exactly how difficult it will be! If people don’t like it that’s their problem. I will not live my life to the satisfaction of someone else’s irrational hostility. If I had intended to live by someone else’s plan I would have remained in Charlestown at the beck and call of my father.

“If you don’t want to marry me, fine. But that is the only reason I want to hear,
not
that it will be difficult!”

“Molly Royse, remind me not to anger you and then turn my back,” Hawk said, a noticeable smile creasing the corners of his mouth. “You might decide that a little physical retribution is warranted.”

“Turning your back won’t be necessary!”

“Are you implying that you’d attack face-toface?” His full-blown smile showed exactly how humorous he found the entire idea.

“That is exactly what I’m saying!” Fighting an overwhelming desire to swoon at the awesome virility revealed by that smile, Molly turned her horse toward the house and hoped she wouldn’t make a fool of herself before she could regain her composure. Perhaps it was a good thing that he seldom smiled. She wasn’t sure she could stand frequent displays of such magnitude.

Since visitors were usually few and far between in the wilderness, and they were welcomed simply as a break from the monotony of the everyday routine, Molly didn’t fear rejection when their presence was noticed by a small child in the front yard.

She soon discovered that Barsheba Cobb was an amiable and gracious hostess who totally ignored Molly’s unsuitable attire. Even though she did not know Hawk personally, she did know Luc and therefore welcomed members of Luc’s family into her home.

The main room, laughingly called Mrs. Cobb’s sewing room by their hostess, was comfortably furnished with all the modern conveniences of a house situated in town. They had obviously interrupted Mrs. Cobb’s work on a colorful quilt that was stretched on a frame and hung from the rafters.

The pattern was unlike any Molly had seen before and she longed to question her, but Mrs. Cobb, a midwife of considerable talent, quickly noticed Molly’s condition and insisted that she rest for an hour or so before the noon meal.

“This really isn’t necessary,” Molly commented as she followed Mrs. Cobb up the narrow stairs to the second floor.

“Certainly it is!” Leading Molly into one of the two bedrooms, Mrs. Cobb folded back the quilt from the bed. “You rest for a short while and I’ll have one of the girls wake you in time for you to bathe before we dine. Once you’re rested you’ll feel more the thing and we can share some harmless gossip!”

“You have a lovely home,” Molly said as she sat on the edge of the bed to remove her shoes.

“Why, thank you, dear.“Mrs. Cobb helped Molly to remove her outer clothing. “Mr. Cobb has provided well for me. He has even brought in a necessary chair.” She pointed to a large, square chair in the far corner of the room. “It is such a pleasure not to have to visit the outside convenience in the winter time. I’m afraid I am in danger of being spoiled!”

Molly was more interested in the bed than in the chair as she stretched out and sighed with pleasure. The rope bed with its straw-filled mattress felt heavenly after her nights on the hard ground. She gave a brief thought to Hawk and wondered what he was doing, then she fell into a deep sleep.

Molly was awakened by the lilting Irish voice of a young girl. Lilliann was an indentured servant, who said she had only a few months left and then she’d be free. She was cheerful and good-natured as she assisted Molly.

The visit was over too quickly for Molly. Mr. Cobb, busy with the last of the harvesting, had not returned for the noon meal. She enjoyed being around the gracious Mrs. Cobb and she prayed that Linsey would be as welcoming.

Mrs. Cobb invited them to stay for several days but Hawk insisted that they leave when the meal was finished. He explained that he wanted to travel the fifteen miles to Jonesborough before dark.

“Would you like to sleep in a bed tonight?” Hawk asked as they rode toward Jonesborough.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed a bed until this afternoon,” Molly replied. “I think I could have slept for a week!”

“We don’t have time for a week, but there is a way station outside of Jonesborough. We’ll get a room for tonight and you can sleep late in the morning while I go into town and try to locate John.” He had explained to her earlier that he hoped John’s father would agree to marry them.

Heaven must be to sleep in a real bed the night before your wedding, Molly decided, glad she didn’t have to confess which prospect filled her with more anticipation.

“We don’t ‘llow Injuns or their —”

“Don’t say it.” Hawk’s voice was made more threatening by its very softness.

The innkeeper wisely swallowed back the rest of his comment and squirmed beneath Hawk’s penetrating stare. His eyes drifted to the rifle held confidently over Hawk’s arm.

“As I was saying, I need a room for the lady, for the night.”

“We don’t take Injuns,” the man insisted, in spite of his fear.

“I require only one room. It will be for the lady.” Hawk bit back the need to wrap his hands around the man’s throat and squeeze. It was because he had feared this exact type of reaction that he had insisted that Molly stay outside with the horses.

“She’ll hafta share. I only got three rooms and they’re filled.”

“She can share … with another lady.” The man motioned toward two ladies sitting across the room and Hawk nodded approval. It wasn’t unusual for strangers to share sleeping quarters, in fact he would have been surprised had she had a room to herself. But he wanted to be assured that the other women were ladies of quality, not river trash looking to make money with their bodies or by going through someone else’s things.

“I’ll bring her inside in a minute,” Hawk stated in the same quiet voice. “But first you can give me directions to the Reverend Childers.”

“What you be wantin’ with him? Reverend Childers is a good man who won’t accept any trail trash Injun.”

Hawk’s level stare forced the man into silence. “His direction?”

Stumbling in his haste, the innkeeper gave Hawk detailed instructions for finding the Childerses’ residence.

“I will be back for Mrs. Royce in the morning,” Hawk informed the man. “I might even stop in later this evening to assure myself that she is all right. Believe me when I tell you that you will pray for death before I’m finished with you if she should suffer any type of indignity caused by your prejudices against my people.”

“Just make sure people see you leave. I’d have no business left if they thought I was rentin’ to an Injun.”

Hawk spent the night in the woods at the back of the inn within sight and sound of Molly’s window. He was relieved when the residents of the inn settled down for the night, making it easier for him to hear any noise from the only room that held his interest.

He thought of his reception at various hotels in the larger cities back east. There had been natural curiosity but he was welcomed as freely as the next man. His Indian heritage had been a thing of interest to most people rather than a thing of repugnance.

The further they traveled into the wilderness, the more lacking the hospitality. It was easy for him to decide to avoid as many towns as possible. Travel would be difficult enough for Molly in her delicate condition, she didn’t need proof that her decision to marry him had been a mistake.

Hawk sat on the ground and leaned back against a tree. He, far better than Molly, knew that the marriage was a mistake that shouldn’t happen. He knew he could take her to Shawnee Town and leave her with Linsey. Someday she would understand and thank him for taking the wiser course.

But he wanted her as he had never wanted anything in his life. He needed her gentleness and humor, her tenderness and faith. He wanted to be the reason she smiled, the reason she laughed. He ached to walk with her hand-in-hand into the forest and never return to civilization. He wanted to show her the ways of his people. He needed to show her the gentle side of himself that few people even knew existed.

He wanted to fold her into his arms and never let her go. Now he understood why Bear protected Linsey with a fierceness that was astounding. Hawk felt the same way about Molly.

He had never applied the word
love
to any emotions he’d felt for any of the women he’d dallied with in his past. He’d felt liking, friendship, even lust, but the gentler emotion of love had always been lacking.

Until Molly. She had wiggled her way into his heart simply by being herself. Liking had grown to fondness; fondness had become love.

Hawk stared at the darkened window and urged himself, for her sake, to get up and leave.

Love kept him firmly seated beneath the giant elm.

Sunlight streamed into the open window as Molly snuggled beneath the blanket. The inn was small and she had been forced to share with another lady and her maid. The lady, a Mrs. Fitzmyar, shared the bed with Molly while the maid slept on a pallet in front of the door. They had left at daybreak but Molly had easily drifted back to sleep, oblivious to the noises made around the bustling inn.

She watched the dust motes drift through the sunlight and wondered where Hawk had spent the night. He had explained that the inn was full but that he wouldn’t have trouble finding some place for himself. A firm rap on the door interrupted her thoughts and brought her fully awake.

“Mrs. Royse,” the innkeeper shouted through the door. “I’m ‘spose to give you a message that Mr. Hawk will be downstairs in an hour to escort you into town.”

“Thank you, sir,” Molly called back. “I’ll be ready when he arrives.”

Reluctance to leave the bed vied with impatience to start the day that would see her as Hawk’s wife before it was finished. She climbed from the bed and poured fresh water into the bowl on the washstand. A bath would have been delightful but she made do with a thorough scrubbing with the last of her bar of soap.

Refusing to wear trousers for her wedding, Molly shook the wrinkles from a dress she had packed for the occasion. Sitting down on the rickety stool at the dressing table, she stared at her reflection in a poorly silvered mirror. As she pulled the brush through her tangled hair, her eyes came to rest on the gold band on her left hand.

Molly stopped and stared at the ring. She remembered the pleasure she had felt when Adam had placed it there. She thought of the hours she had spent sitting on the hard seat of the wagon, watching it catch the sunlight.

Lowering her arms, Molly turned the ring around and around on her slender finger. The innocent young bride had grown up cruelly fast when her husband had died in her arms. In her place was a woman who was stronger and more self-assured. A woman who knew that life had to be lived for the moment — tomorrow might never come.

Molly had learned to grab at happiness before it could slip through her fingers. Marriage to Hawk, with all of its inherent problems, was the right thing for her to do.