A Newfound Land (33 page)

Alex closed her eyes and raised a clenched hand to her chest, taking long breaths. And there, deep inside of her, she felt his beat, the slow steady pulse that told her he was still alive and well.

She gave Mrs Parson a teary smile. “Still there.” She fell to her knees before the old woman and buried her head in her lap. “What would I do without you?” she murmured, closing her eyes when Mrs Parson’s hands came down to wind themselves in and out of her locks, to brush back and soothe.

“Cope, I imagine,” Mrs Parson said, but there was a wobble to her voice that made Alex smile.

“Mother,” she said into the dark skirts beneath her cheek.

“Daughter,” Mrs Parson murmured. “A most beloved daughter, aye?” It was calming to sit like this, but the moment was interrupted when the door flew open.

“Mama?” Jacob fell into the kitchen, shadowed by Daniel.

“Yes?” Alex frowned at the expression on their faces. “What’s the matter?”

“In the stables...” Jacob began.

“... and we thought she might be dead,” Daniel said, “but she opened her eyes.”

“...but the baby, Mama, the wean looks awful,” Jacob went on.

“Dead, almost,” Daniel nodded.

Alex was already on her way out, throwing a shawl over her shoulders against the biting north wind.

“It’ll snow before evening,” she muttered as she hurried after her boys.

“Aye,” Jacob agreed, “look at yon clouds, near black.”

“Why is it that snow comes out of black clouds?” Sarah asked, having joined the party. “Snow is white. Shouldn’t the clouds be white?”

“I have no idea.” Alex smiled. “Why don’t you write that question down and we can ask your da when he comes home.”

“Will he be back for my birthday, do you think?” Jacob slipped a hand into hers.

“I hope so,” Alex said, “both for yours and Ruth’s.”

Alex took in the awry nativity scene: hay, farm animals, but instead of a rosy Virgin, a woman that looked half-dead.

“Thistledown-in-the-wind.” Alex fell to her knees beside the woman. The once so radiant Indian woman was the colour of dirty linen, a dull grey that highlighted her wasted face and contrasted eerily with the thick black hair that hung in a matted mess around her head.

“What has happened to you?” Alex asked, without receiving a reply. The eyes remained closed, shallow breaths steaming into the air.

“The wean, Mama,” Sarah whispered, her little arm shaking when she pointed at the cradle board lying some distance away.

Alex crawled over to it. “Oh, Jesus.” If the mother seemed to be hovering between life and death, the little baby looked even worse. Snot-encrusted eyelashes glued the eyelids together, the mouth hung open and a soft wheezing accompanied every breath.

“Here.” Alex thrust the cradle board into Daniel’s hands. “Run inside and give it to Mrs Parson.” Daniel flew, with his sister at his heels, and Alex turned to Jacob.

“Can we lift her between the two of us, do you think?”

Jacob inserted his hands under the woman’s legs. “Aye, she doesn’t weigh much.”

“No,” Alex said, “and that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Chapter 40

“Starvation,” Mrs Parson said, stating the obvious. “The wean is near to expiring.”

“Not anymore.” Alex looked down at the coal-black head at her breast.

“It must suckle, lass. You can’t swallow for it.”

“It will live, but what about the mother?”

In response, Mrs Parson pinched the skin of the young woman’s arm and let go. The skin remained creased for quite some time before smoothing itself out.

“Undernourished, no liquids...” Mrs Parson sighed. “Honey, I think, and a rich broth.”

Agnes came over with linen and hot water. Together, she and Mrs Parson undressed their surprise guest, washed her, and got her into a clean shift before placing her on a pallet bed as close to the hearth as possible.

“Do you think she’d mind if I comb her hair?” Agnes asked.

Alex looked up from the baby. “I think she’d appreciate the kindness,” she said and went back to prodding the baby to eat. Every time it tried to fall asleep, she pinched it gently, using her finger to tease the mouth open. Suddenly, it clamped down and suckled hard, choking on the resulting gush of milk. Again and again it sucked, the milk began to flow, and the baby swallowed and swallowed.

“Not too much at one time,” Mrs Parson warned. Too late, and Alex made a disgusted face when her bodice was covered with baby puke. The child in her arms wailed piteously, but at least it was moving and making noise.

“You’ll do,” Alex shushed it. “Now, let’s try and do this again, okay?”

Some time later she wrapped the clean infant in a shawl and placed him beside his mother. A thin arm came out to hold the baby close, and Alex patted Thistledown on her cheek before getting off her knees.

*

Two weeks later, Alex moped her way down the lane towards the house. No sign of Matthew today either, and she had no idea where he was, or, more importantly, how he was. She tugged at her best bodice, feeling foolish for having dressed up yet again on the off chance that this was the day he’d come galloping home.

She entered the front room where Sarah and Ruth were playing something in a corner, generously including David as well. By the fire lay a quilt-covered shape, soft snores escaping from the open mouth. After days of competent care, Thistledown had regained a more normal skin colour, even if she was still too weak to do much more than sleep and eat.

Her son had recovered much faster, and was now fast asleep on his belly beside his mother. Alex eased her aching breasts. Feeding two children was becoming something of a strain, and her poor tits were constantly overproducing, leaving her tender and damp. Samuel grunted when she settled him in her lap, and for half an hour it was all peacefully quiet, pale December sun leaking in through the small glass panes to pattern the scrubbed floor with squares of light.

“Mama?” Daniel shook her awake. “Jacob says you must come, and come quick.” He held out his arms. “I can take care of Samuel.”

“You do that.” Alex stood up with a flutter of apprehension in her stomach. By the fire, Thistledown was awake, sitting up with her son cradled to her chest.

“See?” Jacob was standing by the kitchen door, musket in hand, indicating the group of riders coming down the lane.

“Mother! And Father...” Jenny frowned. “Why have they brought the Chisholms with them?”

“I have no idea, but I suppose we’re about to find out.” Alex grabbed her cloak and went outside to face their visitors.

“Good day, Mistress Graham,” the elder Chisholm said, bowing in her direction.

“Andrew, how nice to see you.” It pleased her that he flushed. She remained where she was, arms crossed over her chest, and waited for them to state their errand.

“We’ve come for the Indian,” the younger Chisholm explained.

“The Indian?” Alex raised her brows. “What Indian would that be?”

“Oh, don’t you try!” Elizabeth snapped. “We know you’re harbouring one of those heathens, and we have come to take her away.”

“Really,” Alex said, “and why would you do that? Do you intend to offer her the hospitality of your own home?”

“She’s a heathen!” Elizabeth said. “It’s her menfolk that are killing white men and their families all over the colonies, and by offering her succour, you’re betraying your own!”

“She is Susquehannock,” Alex replied. “As far as I know,
we’re not in conflict with them.”

“Our brethren in Virginia are,” Peter broke in. “And as my wife rightly points out your Indian is an enemy to us all.”

“Besides,” Andrew said, “God knows what plagues she brings with her, weak and starved as she is.”

“And how would you know that?” Alex asked. “Unless of course you’ve seen her and chased her off, despite her being near dead.”

Andrew’s skin mottled under his grey stubble as he muttered something about not knowing what was ailing her, and he couldn’t risk bringing disease into his home.

“Ah.” Alex was quite pleased by how that one syllable had Andrew looking as if he’d prefer to disappear into a hole.

“Why this palaver?” Elizabeth said, sliding off her horse. “We’ve come for the Indian, so you’d best move out of the way.”

“Make me.” Alex planted herself before her door. Elizabeth looked somewhat taken aback – for like a microsecond. Then her eyebrows rose, two rather hairless crescents that all but disappeared into her hair.

“She’s one of them,” she said. “She has to go – she’s a danger to us all!”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I can just see her, axe-murdering us in our sleep. She can barely stand, for God’s sake! And the Susquehannock have never harmed us.”

Andrew grunted, throwing Alex a long look.

“Okay, so they’ve stolen a horse here and there, but all in all—”

“They’re thieving heathen,” Peter interrupted. “And now they’ve risen in rebellion against their rightful masters.”

“Their rightful masters? Would that be the king and his governor, who has signed the treaty and then allowed violation of the drawn up borders?” Alex said. “Or are we talking about the rogues who ride in under cover of the night and steal away Indian women to sell them as wives?”

“Those women are better off,” Elizabeth said. “They exchange a life in the wilds for a life with a Christian, civilised man.”

To his credit, Andrew Chisholm protested, saying that he did not agree with any woman being abducted from her family – no matter if she were Indian.

“Enough of this,” Elizabeth said. “Surely you won’t let a woman hinder you? Go and fetch her!”

“Try.” Alex crossed her arms over her chest. It was obvious neither Peter nor Andrew were all too keen, both of them remaining where they were.

“The first one that takes a step towards Mama is dead,” a cold voice said.

Ian used his thighs to ride his horse down, his musket levelled at Peter Leslie, who swallowed noisily. Behind him came Mark, eyes as icy, hands as firm on his musket. Wow, her own Light Cavalry. Alex’s chest expanded with pride at the sight of her sons.

“Son,” Peter raised his hands in conciliation, “this has taken on ridiculous proportions. Can you not make your mother see sense? The Indian woman must be driven off.”

“To die,” Ian said.

“To be taken care of by her own.” Peter backed away from the catlike quality of Ian’s eyes.

“She stays until she wishes to leave,” Ian said. “She’s our guest and as such it is our obligation to protect her. And we will.”

Half an hour later, the yard was cleared of their visitors. Jenny was devastated. In between crying and wringing her hands, she apologised for her mother, saying over and over again that this was most unlike her, and mayhap she was not all herself what with Nathan and Ailish and...

Alex waved her quiet. She would happily have brained Elizabeth had she been given the opportunity, but it was the men she was seriously angry with. “Intimidation,” she said, “that’s what it was.”

“Well, that didn’t work very well, did it?” Mrs Parson commented from her place by the fire. “In fact, it would seem to me that it was you that intimidated them, no?”

“Me and Ian.” Alex nodded. “And Mark,” she added, seeing his face cloud.

“They’re frightened,” Ian said, “and all Indians are now potentially dangerous.”

“It’s the other way around, I’m afraid,” Alex sighed.

*

After a night spent tossing from side to side, Alex gave up just before dawn. She pulled on stockings and a thick flannel petticoat, slipped on her knitted bed jacket and her skirts before making her way through the sleeping house towards the kitchen. Her boots...she hunted around for them as silently as she could, finding them propped against the hearth where Agnes had placed them to dry. At the door hung her cloak and in less than five minutes after waking she was outside, walking up the lane.

A brisk walk would do her good, she decided, if nothing else to work off the edgy restlessness that plagued her. She stepped off the bridle path to walk through the woods, brittle ice crunching underfoot as she stepped through shallow puddles. Here and there, the odd bird called, things rustled through the shrubs, and the bare trees were decorated with a delicate latticework of frost.

She was almost back home when she heard the sound of hooves, and just in case she ducked behind a stand of trees. But when she saw who it was, she stepped out into the open so abruptly Moses shied, causing Matthew to curse.

“Alex?” He looked down at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for a lift?”

He laughed and helped her up to sit behind him. “Why are you here?”

Alex wrapped her arms round his waist and gave him a long squeeze before replying. He was back, and she just had to rest her face against his back and scrub it up and down a couple of times, hearing him hum in response.

“Why?” he repeated.

“I’m not sure. I woke very early and felt like a walk – I missed you.”

“And I you, lass.” He reached backwards to pat her on her thigh.

“Did things go alright?” she asked.

“Alright? I don’t think so. It’s war on all Indians now, and it’s us that are in breach, not them.”

“So why are you home then?” Alex asked with a sinking sensation in her gut.

“To keep you safe. Thomas and I and some other homesteaders were relieved of our duties to protect our families instead.” He exhaled. “Difficult times ahead, lass.”

Anything else Matthew wanted to tell her had to wait, because when they turned into Graham’s Garden they found Elizabeth and Peter Leslie at the top of the lane, the former looking decidedly the worse for wear.

“Matthew!” Peter said. “Does this mean it’s all over?”

“Rather the reverse, but I hope it won’t be as bad here as it will be elsewhere.” Matthew looked them up and down. “Is there any particular reason why you are visiting this early?”

Peter doffed his hat and directed himself to Alex. “My apologies, Alex, for what we put you through yesterday. It was unacceptable, and I can only put it down to a combination of anxiety at the general state of affairs and our difficult private situation, what with Nathan and Ailish.”

“Apologies?” Matthew looked from Peter to Alex. “What have you—?”

“Later.” Alex patted his leg. No way was she going to have Matthew’s homecoming marred by a full-out quarrel with Peter, no matter that what she really wanted to do was punch Peter in that glib mouth of his. He’d had a whole night to mull over the implications of being on strained terms with his neighbour and had obviously concluded this was not to his benefit – something he ought to have considered before setting out yesterday, the jerk. What she did, however, was to give Peter an insincere smile and inquire if they wished to eat breakfast with them.