Merline Lovelace (10 page)

The blunt reply had several of the general’s guests blinking. He merely smiled.

“I meant I should like to know more about Chartier’s background. His birthplace. His parents.”

“Me, I do not know this. But Monsieur Thibodeaux has hired lawyers. They send letters to France.”

“Indeed?”

The merchant confirmed her artless revelations. “Henri Chartier left a considerable estate, which his wife stands to inherit. It will take some months before her claim is processed. In the meantime, I thought it wise to verify her, ah, legal status.”

“I see.” The general exchanged a quick glance with his son before turning a bland look on Louise. “You yourself have both French and Osage blood, I understand.”

She nodded. “My father was French. My mother was of the Quapaw.”

“And your uncle is Big Track, a great chief. I’m indebted to him for his gift of land where the rivers run together. We think to build a trading post there.”

“Me, I think you will build a fort.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You must, if your Great Father in Washington goes forward with his so-foolish plan.”

The comment drew several shocked glances from those around her and a frown from Lieutenant Wilkinson. His father merely lifted a brow.

“May I ask which foolish plan you refer to?”

“The one the trappers speak of.”

“And that is…?”

“I believe she’s referring to the Indian Removal Plan.”

The deep voice just over her shoulder spun Louise around.

“Daniel! You wear a different uniform since last I saw you,” she commented with an admiring glance for his blue coat with its high, stiff collar of red trimmed with gold. Epaulets added more breadth to his wide shoulders, and a red silk sash circled his waist.

His mouth curved in a crooked grin as he took in the splendor of her red gown. “So do you.”

Tucking her arm in his, she turned back to the general. “It is what Daniel says. The Indian Removal plan.”

“What do you know of this Plan?” Wilkinson asked curiously.

“I know it is beyond anything foolish. If the Great Father moves the Choctaw and Cherokee to the lands of the Osage and Pawnee, the tribes will war with one another. The rivers will run red with blood and the women will weep many tears.”

“We’ll weep, too,” Thibodeaux added. “War between the Osage and the Cherokee won’t be good for the fur trade.”

“No,” the general murmured. “It won’t.”

“You must tell the Great Father it cannot happen,” Louise stated firmly.

His lips pulled back in a thin smile. “President Jefferson doesn’t always listen to my counsel, but I shall certainly pass on your sentiments.”

Louise cocked her head, sensing that he made light of her words. And of her. Her chin lifted and a dan
gerous glint came into her eyes. He might be a great chief among his people, but he would be wise to heed her warning.

Before she could tell him so, Daniel squeezed her arm tight against his side. Belatedly, she remembered his warning and clamped her mouth shut on the hot words that rose to her lips. Head high, she held on to his arm and said no more until others claimed the general’s attention.

“You were right to warn me to have a care around that one,” she murmured as Daniel led her away. “He has the look of a hungry wolf.”

“I’d say that pretty well describes the man.”

He looked back and caught a glimpse of the general and his son out of the corner of one eye. They stood surrounded by others, yet both had fixed unblinking gazes on Louise.

A shiver rippled down Daniel’s spine. He felt an almost overpowering urge to whisk her out of this house. Out of New Orleans, for that matter. The instincts that had kept him alive during fourteen years of service at frontier posts told him the murky waters swirling around General Wilkinson were already lapping at her toes.

Frowning, Daniel kept her arm pressed closed to his side. She wasn’t his responsibility any longer. He shouldn’t feel this nagging worry for her deep in his gut, but he did. Damn it, he did.

The guests had all departed. The house slaves had retreated to their quarters. Belle Terre wore the si
lence with the grace of a grand duchess who had just kissed her lover goodbye.

The general sat with his feet up on an embroidered stool and drew in deeply on the pipe he’d lighted earlier. When he exhaled, the rich, seductive scent of Virginia tobacco laced with opium drifted across the room.

“This widow is more presentable than I had hoped.”

“Yes,” his son replied. “She quite surprised me when she walked in.”

The lieutenant wished he had a pipe of his own to draw on. These late-night sessions always made him nervous. He never quite knew whether he was chambered with his father or his commanding officer.

Unfortunately, he’d had to give up the pipe. His delicate lungs couldn’t take the irritation of tobacco, and the Turkish opium favored by his father over that imported from India always left him with a sick head.

“I hear she’s worth fifteen thousand gold louis,” the general murmured, tapping the tobacco down in the bowl with a silver tong. “Did she bed with Morgan?”

“They shared a blanket, but…” James lifted his shoulders. Morgan hadn’t worn the look of a man who’d found release. On the contrary, he’d often rolled out from under the furs of a morning with a tight, frustrated cast to his face.

“I shouldn’t like for you to take damaged goods, but she is a widow, after all.” His father blew an
other sickly sweet cloud. “We’ll have to do something about Morgan. The chit’s in love with him.”

James couldn’t refute the flat statement. He, too, had seen the joy that leaped into Louise’s eyes when she turned to greet the sergeant.

“Send the man back to St. Louis,” he suggested.

“Use your brain-box, boy. She’d only follow him. No, I have a better plan, one that need not concern you at the moment. Your only task—and a pleasant one it looks to be—is to pay court to Chartier’s widow.”

The lieutenant hooked a finger in his stock to loosen it. Truth be told, he found the widow just a little daunting. She’d more than held her own with the men during the expedition and had almost gutted Huddleston during that fracas at Arkansaw Post.

Not that James would mind taking her to bed. He’d thought her pretty before, and had been quite stunned by her tonight. And he suspected she’d bring a fire to the bedchamber lacking in the fat, flaccid whores who usually serviced him.

Lost in his thoughts, he looked up to find his father watching him with his unnerving stare.

“Don’t fail me in this, James. I had to throw Burr to the wolves to save my own skin, but I have yet to abandon my ambitions.”

“No, sir, I won’t.”

“This widow is the perfect instrument for our purposes. I expect you to begin pressing your suit immediately. You must do whatever is necessary to win her.”

T
he afternoon following the dinner at General Wilkinson’s quarters, Colonel Matthews summoned Daniel to his office.

“It’s my pleasure to inform you that you’ve been promoted to the rank of sergeant major. Congratulations, Morgan.”

Surprised, Daniel accepted the colonel’s handshake.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’ve also been relieved of your company duties and reassigned to the regimental staff.”

That didn’t please Daniel anywhere near as much as the promotion. He was a rifleman, not a headquarters clerk. When he said as much to the colonel, Matthews waved aside his objection.

“You’ve fourteen years of experience in the field. A little time on regimental staff will give you some seasoning.”

“What will my duties be, sir?”

“The general wants you to supervise the conduct of marksmanship training for the regiment.”

The entire regiment? That task would have Daniel jumping from dawn to dusk, every day of the week. Well, he’d rather keep busy than not, and the lack of training for the Johnny Raw recruits had long been a real concern within the ranks of experienced veterans.

Almost instantly, his mind began racing with the firing drills he’d institute and the increased allocation of powder and lead each company would require. The general might regret assigning him to this duty, he thought wryly, when he saw the cost of Daniel’s proposals.

He was so caught up with his swiftly forming plans that he almost missed Colonel Matthews’s next announcement.

“I’ve designated a set of quarters for you. The apartments are small,” he warned, “but include a private sitting room and a bedroom. Your wife will no doubt be happy to hear you won’t have to share rooms with another family.”

“My wife?”

“You’re married, are you not? I’m sure I remembered you asking for a furlough to see to your wife.”

“Yes, sir, I did. She’s in St. Louis.”

The colonel’s voice took on a dry note. “I know I denied you a leave of absence when you requested one earlier, but General Wilkinson reminded me of the months you spent with his son during the expedition. You may take a furlough to bring your wife
to New Orleans. If you leave today, I’m sure you can accomplish the move within a month.”

Daniel had made a dozen or so moves to different posts. He anticipated little difficulty in bundling up the few possessions his wife still seemed to care about, putting them and her on a wagon or a flatboat and getting them to New Orleans within the allotted time.

The question in his mind was whether he should do it.

With each move, Elizabeth seemed to shrink more inside herself. Each departure from familiar surroundings took her a little farther away from the world around her. He’d thought— He’d hoped to keep her in St. Louis. The corporal’s wife who helped care for her there was kind and gentle and the only reason Daniel had consented to take part in the Pike expedition. He’d known he was leaving Elizabeth in good hands.

“Sir, my wife’s settled in our quarters in St. Louis. I think it’s best if she stays there.”

“You don’t understand, Morgan. This assignment to the general’s staff is a permanent posting. You’ll no longer qualify for quarters in St. Louis, only here. I’m afraid there’s no choice. You must either move your wife to private lodgings in St. Louis or bring her to New Orleans.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Daniel walked out into the bright March sunshine, the little ache he always carried just under his ribs became a sharp, knifing pain.

I’m sorry, Elizabeth. So sorry.

He took time only to move his gear out of the inn where his company was posted, check out the new quarters and scribble a hasty note to Louise. By evening, he’d found a place on a train of wagons hauling military supplies upriver to Natchez.

Fifteen days later, he reached St. Louis. Daniel knew the journey back down the Mississippi would take far less time, but for once he wasn’t driven by the urgency of his military orders. The truth was, he was in no hurry to uproot Elizabeth and move her again.

He’d thought about leaving the army and settling in one place. Many times. He wasn’t a farmer, though, knew nothing of working the land. He could easily earn a living hunting or trapping or guiding the ever-increasing stream of settlers pushing west, but those occupations would take him away from home as much or more than his army duties had.

At one point, when things had first begun to look bleak, he’d considered sending Elizabeth back to North Carolina. Unfortunately, her parents were dead and her only sister had a brood of thirteen to care for. Rebecca had made it plain she’d have no time to look after a full-grown woman who chose to sit idle and spin cobwebs in her head all day. No, Elizabeth was Daniel’s responsibility. He’d have to see to her.

She was more than his responsibility, he thought
as he disembarked at the bustling waterfront in St. Louis. She was all he had.

He hitched a ride on one of the wagons hauling the supplies to the fort located north of the city. Cantonment Belle Fontaine sat on the low-lying south bank of the Missouri, near its confluence with the Mississippi. The first U.S. military outpost constructed in Louisiana Territory, it served as both a defensive fortification and a trading factory for the Sac, Fox and other local tribes.

It was here General Wilkinson had established his first headquarters, attending to his duties as military governor of Louisiana Territory with the same zeal he put into his personal trading ventures. Here, Lieutenant Pike had launched his expedition last July. Here, Captains Lewis and Clark had completed their two-year exploration and spent their last night with their Corps of Discovery only a few months back.

The fort sat at the bottom of a high bluff—not a particularly strategic location in Daniel’s considered opinion, but then no one had asked him. Blistering heat and mosquitoes plagued its residents from spring to fall, ice and snow throughout the winter. A high palisade enclosed buildings constructed of wood and stone. Daniel’s senior rank had entitled him to one of the small houses huddled against the pallisade.

He approached the log house, his heart pounding with anticipation and dread. He tried not to picture Elizabeth as she’d once been—a young, laughing bride with hair the color of new wheat. Instead, he forced the memory of how she’d looked when he’d
left St. Louis some eight months ago. Silent. Vacant eyed. Empty.

Armored by the wrenching image, he lifted the iron latch and pushed open the wooden door. His glance went immediately to the single window in the front parlor, where he knew he’d find his wife.

She sat in a ladder-back chair, staring through the open shutters. Her hands were clasped loosely in her lap. She wore a gown of blue homespun that hung loosely on her thin frame. Sunlight gilded her hair to a pale, shimmering gold. She didn’t so much as blink at his entrance.

A dozen arrows pierced right through the armor Daniel had just wrapped around his heart. His throat tight, he murmured a soft greeting.

“Hello, sweeting.”

She turned her head at the sound of his voice. For a moment, only a moment, Daniel thought he saw something stir in the green void of her eyes.

Hope leaped inside him, only to die a swift, agonizing death when the faint glimmer faded and Elizabeth turned her face to the window once again. He was fighting the pain when a ginger-haired woman bustled out of the back room.

“Sergeant Morgan! We didna know you were a’comin home!”

“I didn’t know I was, either.”

“Ach, it’s good to have you back after all these months. Isn’t it, dearie?”

Elizabeth made no response. With a little frown, Nora Shaunnessy crossed the room and patted her
shoulder to get her attention. “Can you no say hello to yer husband?”

A blank stare was the only response.

The corporal’s wife sighed and turned to Daniel. “She’s like this all the time now. I try, but the puir thing has naught to say to me anymore. Maybe you can get her to speak.”

Daniel dropped his haversack and musket just inside the door. Long, painful experience had taught him to approach slowly so as not to frighten the fragile woman in the chair. Hunkering down on his heels, he carefully gathered one of her hands into his.

“I’ve just come from New Orleans. Remember, I wrote you to let you know I’d rejoined my company there?”

She gave no answer. The armor back in place, Daniel didn’t really expect one. “I thought we’d only stay for a few weeks. A month or two at most. Just until the threat posed by Burr and his supposed army had passed.”

Gently he stroked the back of her hand. Her skin felt so thin, the bones so small and delicate. “Looks like I’ll be in New Orleans longer than I figured on. General Wilkinson has assigned me to his staff. It’s a permanent posting, and a set of quarters comes along with the billet. It’ll mean another move for you. I’m sorry, Elizabeth.”

If she was cringing inside at the thought of leaving these two rooms, she gave no sign of it. Daniel forced a cheerful smile.

“You’ll like New Orleans, sweeting. It’s bigger
than St. Louis and far more refined. I’ll take you to the shops when we get there and buy you a new dress. What color would you like? Your favorite violet? Or green, to match your eyes?”

Unbidden, the image of a slender, dark-haired woman in ruby silk leaped into Daniel’s mind. He could see her face as clearly as the one right before him, her blue eyes filled with the lively curiosity Elizabeth had once possessed.

Clenching his jaw against a rush of regret and grief and guilt, he rose. “I’m sorry to give you so little notice, Nora, but I’ll be taking Elizabeth back to New Orleans with me as soon as I can pack her up.”

“Ach, ’tis no worry at all, Sergeant. Corporal Shaunnessy was tellin’ me only the other night, he thinks our company will be movin’ out soon, too. Truth be told, I was wonderin’ what to do about Elizabeth.”

She threw a glance at the woman by the window. Sympathy and a pity she didn’t try to disguise filled her face when she turned back to Daniel.

“Do you want me to help you pack up, then?”

He swept a look around their quarters. The furniture was simple and sturdy. He’d constructed a pine table with legs that detached for transport. The four ladder-back chairs were easily tucked in corners of a wagon. The dish cupboard was heavy, but Daniel had carried it in and out of many a set of quarters on his back. Two clothes chests held their spare garments, and the bed frame came apart easily.

They had few personal items of any value. The
rose-patterned china pitcher and bowl Elizabeth used to love so much. The set of eight finely crafted pewter mugs her father had presented them with on their wedding. The pianoforte Daniel had bought his wife one Christmas. She hadn’t touched the yellowing ivory keys in years, but he couldn’t let go of the hope that she would.

“I thank you for the offer of help,” he told Nora, “but Elizabeth and I have packed up many times in the past. We know just how to do it.”

“Good enough.” Suddenly teary, the corporal’s wife dabbed a corner of her apron at her eyes. “I’ll leave you to it. I wish you well. Both of you.”

Desperately, Elizabeth tried to shut out the sounds of hammering and crating. The constant noise pierced the walls she’d built around herself, forced her mind from the empty spaces where she willed it to the tall, tanned soldier with hammer in hand. The man she’d once loved with all her being.

Pulling her gaze from the window, she let it linger on his broad shoulders, on the muscles bunching under his linen shirt. She’d once craved the feel of those arms around her, opened her body joyfully to his, hoping to give him the babe they both longed for.

Pain splintered through her heart. She felt again the awful agony of losing first one child, then a second. Once more she tasted the bitter tears she’d shed when her third died in her arms. She could see the small coffin Daniel had built with his own hands,
could see the tiny, stillborn babe he’d swaddled in blankets and laid inside.

Unable to bear the grief, she turned her face away from her husband.

The Mississippi’s powerful current carried them downriver in half the time it had taken Daniel to travel up.

He kept Elizabeth close to him day and night. Patiently he bathed her face and hands, guided her spoon to her lips, changed her linens when she soiled herself. She was docile as a child and just as helpless.

He lay awake beside her long into the night, trying desperately not to remember how she used to throw her arm across his waist and cuddle her head on his shoulder. Instead, he filled his mind with his new duties, with the need to find someone to help him care for her in New Orleans, with the latest news about Burr, now on his way to trial in Richmond. Often his thoughts turned to the woman who’d shared his blanket during those dark, bitterly cold nights along the Arkansaw.

Louise was on his mind when the flatboat tied up at the same quay they’d both stepped onto only a few short weeks before. She wasn’t his responsibility any longer, but worry for her nagged at him. He couldn’t quite get over his unease at the way the general and his son had stared at her so fixedly.

If Louise claimed even a portion of the estate Thibodeaux had hinted at, she could count herself a very wealthy widow. That alone would be enough to prick
the general’s interest. Yet Daniel sensed there was more.

Frowning, he lifted Elizabeth onto the quay and found a spot for her among the stacked bales and barrels. “Wait here. I’ll find a cart to carry our baggage to our new quarters.”

She stood where he left her, never moving, never so much as turning her head to look at the bustling, busy city crowding the riverfront.

As Colonel Matthews had stated, the apartments occupied by officers and noncommissioned officers assigned to General Wilkinson’s staff were small but more than adequate. They were located in a three-story building on Bienville Street, some blocks northwest of the
cabildo.
Like most buildings in this city, the outer facade was graced with elaborate wrought iron.

Daniel guided Elizabeth up the front steps and down a dim hallway reeking with the scents of leather polish, tobacco smoke and spicy stewed fish. The rooms he’d been allocated were at the end of the hall. He was thankful that they looked out on the raised banquette—the parade strolling by outside would give Elizabeth something to watch during the long, empty hours, while Daniel attended to his military duties.