LeClerc 03 - Wild Savage Heart (26 page)

“I think it would better serve everyone involved if we were to leave immediately,” Hawk replied firmly. “Your mother’s feelings are justified and I dislike making anyone feel ill-at-ease in their own home.”

She saw relief pass Reverend Childers’s face as he offered to show Hawk to the stables around back of the house. After assuring his host that he was capable of finding the barn, Hawk left the room.

Molly sipped impatiently at the glass of wine John had insisted she have as she waited for Hawk to bring their horses around to the front of the house. Reverend Childers nervously cleared his throat several times, attempting to say something.

“Just say whatever it is that’s bothering you, sir,” she finally encouraged.

“Perhaps it is better left unsaid,“he replied. “After all, the ceremony is completed, you are now his wife.”

“Yes, Reverend, I am his wife,”she agreed quietly.

“Yes … well,… what I mean is, I feel that since you don’t have a father to advise you, it behooves me to offer my home to you should it ever become necessary for you to … ah …”

“Reverend, Nathan Morning Hawk is a Shawnee warrior,” she stated firmly. “He is also one of the most scrupulously honorable men I have ever known. My husband was killed several months ago and Hawk stayed with me to help complete the construction of my home and to help me settle in the area. Not once in all the months we lived and worked sideby-side have I been concerned for my safety; either physically or morally.

“In fact, his very presence reassured me that I was safe, safe from white men who have no honor or morals, the very same men who are accepted by our society merely because they are white.”

She placed her glass on a side table and turned toward him. “Hawk is not the father of my baby, but he insisted on our marriage so that my child would know a father. I know it is his intention to see me settled in Shawnee Town with his white family. I expect he plans to see that we lack for nothing.” Her voice lowered with promise. “It’s my intention to see that Hawk honors his marriage vows. He will be my husband and I will follow wherever he goes. And I’ll fight anyone who tries to separate us.”

“Forgive me, my dear, for the interference of an old man.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Reverend. Your concern was honorable, if somewhat misguided.” Rev. Childers took her hand in his. “It is my wish that my son may someday find a woman who will love him as you love Hawk.” His smile was sincere with warmth. “Go with God, my child. Ask for His guidance when troubles seem to overwhelm you. Remember that He is always there.”

Her hand was still in his when Hawk entered the room. Ebony eyes narrowed in speculation.

“Are you ready to leave?” he asked.

“Yes.”There was no hesitation in her voice or her eyes when she looked at him. “Let’s head for home, Hawk.”

In a matter of minutes they were once more in the saddle heading in a northwesterly direction. Jonesborough was quickly left behind and they were again surrounded by massive trees and abundant undergrowth.

“So, where are we headed?” Molly asked, when the silence between them had grown as thick as the leaves on the trees.

Since the trail allowed them room, Hawk reined in his horse slightly so that they were riding side by side.

“Ever heard of a man named Daniel Boone?”

“Good heavens,” she exclaimed with exasperation. “Who hasn’t? But I do find it hard to believe some of the things I’ve heard!”

Hawk smiled. “You can believe most of it.”

“Do you know him?”

“Never had the privilege, but Bear and Kaleb can tell you some stories that’ll make your hair curl. Last I heard of him he was still alive but had moved west. He has to be pretty old by now so he might even have died.”

“I’ve always wanted curly hair.”

He ignored her. “Boone is said to have
discovered
a trail through the western Virginia mountains.”

“You sound skeptical. Did he discover it or not?”

“The path he found is now called the Wilderness Road but it’s been used for centuries by the Indians. They called it the Warrior’s Path, for obvious reasons.”

“Battles?” Molly guessed accurately.

Hawk nodded and continued to explain. “Northern tribes traveled south for trading or raiding, southern tribes traveled north for the same purpose. In 1750 a Virginian named Dr. Thomas Walker did some surveying for the Loyal Land Company of England and documented the path. He named the area through the mountains, the Cumberland Gap.

“Then about twenty-five years later Boone came along with six or seven others and they marked and cleared the path from the Tennessee border to Boonesborough, which is about two hundred miles north into Kentucky.”

“Which just happened to be named after Mr. Boone, of course,” Molly added.

“Are you going to listen to the story or tell it?” Hawk asked with mock annoyance.

“I’m sorry,” she replied. “Please continue, I’m all ears … except for my eyes … and nose … and —”

“Does wine always affect you this way?”

Molly giggled. “It’s either that glass of wine or getting married. I just feel like I want to throw my arms up in the air and dance with the wind.” Hawk smiled indulgently. “Please don’t let me stop you.”

“No, I’ll behave, please continue your story.”

“Not much more to tell. They say that upwards of three hundred thousand settlers have used the Wilderness Road to move west.”

“That’s a lot of peopie looking for a better life,” she replied seriously.

“Most of them found it. It’s beautiful land, Molly.” Hawk thought of the area he had always known as home. “It’s rich land, with gently rolling hills. There’s plenty of water and game.”

“Then I’ll be happy there, too.”

Hawk’s dark gaze studied the young woman who had become his wife. “You’ll be happy there, Molly. But it’s still a long trip before we’re home.”

“But we’re headed in the right direction … I assume … “

Hawk smiled at her light-hearted mood. “I haven’t gotten you lost yet, have I?”

“Couldn’t prove that by me, Oh great Shawnee warrior! I’ve been lost since we left the cabin.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me then.” Suddenly her mood changed. “I do, Hawk. Not only with my life but with the life of my child.” Hawk grabbed the reins of her horse and pulled it to a halt beside his own.

“Our child Molly. From this point on that baby is as much mine as it is yours.”

Her heart melting with joy, she nodded in agreement. “Our child, Hawk.”

Molly looked for something around the campsite to throw or slam. She regretted the loss of the huge highboy dresser in her bedroom in Charleston. The drawers gave such a satisfyingly resounding bang when she’d slam them shut to relieve anger. Right now she’d willingly travel the several hundred miles back to Charleston just to have the opportunity to slam a drawer.

Finding nothing in their few possessions that worked sufficiently, she attempted to stamp her feet as she moved from one spot to another. Even that failed because of the heavy ground cover of newly fallen autumn leaves.

As if unaware of her anger, Hawk saddled the horses in preparation of their departure. All that remained to be done was to clean up from their breakfast … and to discover the exact reason for Molly’s bad mood.

“We’ll enter the gap by mid-afternoon,” Hawk said quietly as he began to load the packhorse.

“Well goody for us!” Molly muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

Resting an arm across the broad back of the animal, Hawk turned and looked at his wife of three days.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong or do I get to spend the morning trying to guess? I think I should warn you that my patience with temper tantrums is extremely limited.”

“Poor you, having to put up with me,” Molly mocked. “Why don’t you just tell me which direction to take and then you can ride off by yourself and you won’t have to worry about my temper!”

Hawk’s audible sigh filled the sudden silence. “I’m not going anywhere, with or without you, until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Molly turned and grabbed her bedding. Rolling it tightly, she tied it with the hide thongs and threw it toward him.

Hawk nimbly caught the bedroll and secured it to the horse. He quickly gathered up the remaining items and tied them into place. As was his custom, he walked to where Molly waited beside her horse for his help in mounting.

Putting his hands at the side of her waist, Hawk held her in place. His dark eyes sparkled with determination and she knew he would hold her there until he found out what he wanted to know, even if it took all day.

“All right, Mrs. Hawk, what’s wrong?”

“Mrs. Hawk? Really?” she scoffed. “I certainly don’t feel like Mrs. Hawk.”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Explain!”

“Why should I explain anything to you?” Molly attempted to pull free from his grasp but he only held her tighter.

“Molly?”

“I should think it would be very clear to you.”

“Well think again.”

The intimidating look she had grown to know so well months earlier turned his countenance to granite, but it no longer filled her with terror.

“Well if you don’t know I’m sure not going to tell you!”

“Molly!”

Suddenly, tears clouded her honey eyes and she leaned her forehead against his chest.

“Just put it down to my condition,” she mumbled, trying to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Not good enough, Molly.” Hawk gathered her closely against him and rubbed his chin against the top of her head. “Tell me what’s troubling you.” Embarrassed by her uncharacteristic outburst, Molly hoped Hawk would tire of waiting for her answer and suggest that they get on their way. After long minutes when he continued silently to hold her, she knew she had no choice but to explain.

“Am I really your wife?” she finally asked. “That’s a dumb question, Molly.”

“Is it?” She pulled as far away from him as he would allow and stared into his dark eyes. “We’ve been married for three days. If I’m really your wife then why do I sleep alone each night?”

Color darkened her cheeks, but Molly refused to lower her gaze from his. Hawk suddenly released her and stepped back.

“You can’t answer that, can you, Hawk?” she asked quietly. “Or is it won’t? Perhaps you won’t answer.”

“Are you ready to leave now?”

Without waiting for a reply, Hawk grabbed her waist and gently lifted her onto the horse. He handed the reins to her before mounting his own animal.

“Why, Hawk?” Molly insisted quietly before he could ride away. “Why can’t I be your wife?”

“You are my wife!”

“No, I’m not. A wife shares her husband’s bed.” A nerve jumped erratically at his jaw. “We won’t discuss this now, Molly.”

“We will discuss this now! Why, Hawk? Just tell me why!”

He looked at her, his gaze filled with longing, anger and determination. “If the marriage is not consummated then it can be terminated with little problem.”

An equal determination filled Molly’s gaze. She pulled her horse away from him.

“And how will you prove that it wasn’t consummated, Nathan Morning Hawk? This marriage will not be terminated until one of us is dead.” She moved the horse further away. “And if you continue to use the excuse that you’re an Indian and I’m white then your death may be a lot sooner than God originally planned because I’ll be tempted to do it myself!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The well-traveled Wilderness Trail wound through valleys of breathtaking beauty, with mountain slopes towering into the clouds. Enormous trees, dressed in their best autumn colors, provided shade from the sun in the late afternoon and protection from the cold breeze of early morning.

In places the trees were so thick Molly began to feel oppressed by their abundance. Just when she thought she’d give anything for the sight of the sun, the trail curved and the trees thinned out to reveal a meadow or mountain clearing.

But even breathtaking beauty can become commonplace, and after three days of mountains, valleys and awe-inspiring vistas, Molly began to long for wide-open spaces. And solitude.

Rather than being isolated, as Molly had assumed she and Hawk would be on the trail, they were rarely alone. Looking back at the wagon that currently followed their path, she shook her head with disgust. Another night of a shared evening meal, life histories around a campfire and Hawk sleeping three feet away from her.

Most of the travelers accepted Hawk without question, but in the faces of a few she had read suspicion whenever they looked at his ruggedly sculptured face, and speculation when they looked at her rounding belly. They were always eager, however, to eat from the game he regularly provided each night.

“Tired?” Hawk’s quietly asked question interrupted her less-than-pleasant thoughts.

“Of mountains and trees and people,” she replied.

At his gentle smile, Molly suddenly felt guilty for her sharpness. “I’m sorry, blame it on my condition.” She smiled hesitantly. “I guess I’ve been a poor traveling companion.”