Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter 2

Hunter awoke with the dawn. He had tried to sleep on the four-poster bed, but the feather mattress was too soft for his tastes, and he had abandoned it for the floor. He sat up, for a moment disoriented by the strange surroundings, but he swiftly recalled where he was. He stood, and then stretched lazily. The house was quiet, and he thought it might be several hours before Byron and Elliott awakened. He used the pitcher of water on the washstand to clean up, donned his buckskins, carefully refolded the blanket he had used, and placed it on the bed. With his moccasins cushioning his steps, he left the house with the same stealth with which he moved silently through the forest.

Possessed of a curious nature, he began to investigate the purpose of the buildings located nearby. From their number, it appeared there was work aplenty on the Barclay plantation. Byron had mentioned they employed free men rather than slaves, which was one of the reasons Hunter had mistakenly gathered the impression that they owned a farm rather than a vast plantation. The kitchen staff had yet to report, but Hunter was growing hungry and hoped whoever was responsible for cooking breakfast would soon appear.

Not wishing to be found lurking outside the kitchen like a ravenous cat, he peered into the scullery next door. A stack of pewter plates sat on the table, along with numerous serving pieces. There were more dishes in the cupboards and large cooking utensils dangled from hooks on the walls. The scullery was as neatly kept as the kitchen, and Hunter wondered if the cook would be a large man who liberally sampled each dish he prepared, or perhaps a tiny woman who was too busy cooking for the Barclays to ever stop and eat. Whoever the cook might be, it was plain they demanded cleanliness and order.

Hunter went on to the smokehouse, but a quick look at the hams and bacon hanging just inside the door satisfied his curiosity there. He recognized the dairy by the churn standing outside, and long clotheslines decorated the yard by the laundry. A fully equipped blacksmith's forge stood between the carriage house and stable. A cooper's shed where barrels were made to pack tobacco for shipping was the last building to come into view.

The Indian was impressed to find the plantation a complete miniature city, and continued to explore. Convinced the Barclays would own fine mounts, he entered the stable by the rear door and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Before that had occurred, someone threw open the tall double doors at the opposite end of the long barn and, fearing he might not be able to explain his presence to a stranger, Hunter shrank back into the shadows and hoped they would soon leave.

When he heard a sweet, feminine voice calling out greetings to the horses, his initial thought was that it was Melissa. Relaxing slightly, he peered out of his hiding place, but silhouetted against the bright sunlight, the young woman was impossible to recognize. Fearing she might be one of the Barclays' many employees rather than his friends' sister, he dared not call out to her. Instead, he waited quietly as she made her way through the stable.

Unlike Hunter, the horses recognized their visitor's voice and stretched their necks over the doors of their stalls to nuzzle her apron pockets. For their impertinent antics, they received a gentle scolding delivered between bursts of lilting laughter. None was deprived of the expected treat, however, and each was given an apple before the young woman moved on to the next.

Framed by the glistening specks of dust dancing in the early morning light, from where Hunter stood she was surrounded by a mist of shimmering gold. It was an enchanted scene, and he held his breath when she reached his end of the barn for fear a sudden glimpse of him would frighten her away. She paused and peered into the darkness, for an instant looked right at him. Perhaps she sensed his presence, but unable to distinguish his features from the deep shadows in which he stood, she moved on.

She had been close enough for Hunter to recognize her though, and since he had not even considered the possibility that the cheerful lass might be Alanna, he was doubly shocked. Unaware that she was being observed, Alanna continued to lavish her affection on the horses, for each was an adored pet. With her tragic background, Hunter wasn't surprised that she would prefer the company of a horse to him, but that rationalization did not ease the lingering humiliation of her rebuff.

Horribly uncomfortable, Hunter darted out of the stable the instant Alanna exited from the opposite end. Unfortunately, he had no time to savor the relief of having avoided another potentially disastrous confrontation with her before a bearded man in a leather apron called out to him.

"Hey, you there!" the blacksmith shouted. "Get away from the barn. You've no business being in there. Go on back where you belong, or I'll set the dogs on you. Now go on, git!"

Hunter hadn't seen any dogs, but knowing many men kept half a dozen or more for hunting, was enough to convince him the blacksmith wasn't making idle threats. He might be an invited guest, but doubted that fact would be believed without confirmation from one of the Barclays. Besides, even if he were a guest, he supposed he ought not to have been in the barn. Undecided about what to say, he remained silent as the blacksmith approached carrying a long pair of iron tongs.

"Dogs don't scare you?" the hostile man asked in a challenging hiss.

Alanna rounded the corner of the barn in time to see the blacksmith raise his tongs in a menacing gesture, while Hunter made no move to protect himself. She had no idea what the Indian had done, but knew her cousins wouldn't want him to be mistreated in any way. Hoping to see someone else close enough to intervene, she looked around with an anxious glance, but quickly discovered that if anyone were going to come to the Indian's rescue, it would have to be her. That was the very last thing she wished to do on that day or any other, but since she had no choice, she gathered her courage and called out to the blacksmith.

"Jacob, leave him alone. He's a scout Byron and Elliott hired."

For several seconds the blacksmith seemed not to have heard Alanna's command, but then he lowered the tongs, frowned darkly, and ambled over to her. "I should have been told, Miss Alanna," he began without bothering with a polite greeting. "None of us expects to find Indians creeping around here."

"Is that what he was doing, 'creeping around'?"

Jacob shrugged. "He left the barn like he was up to no good. Maybe we ought to go check on the horses."

Having just come from the barn, Alanna was understandably shocked by Jacob's comment. Hunter hadn't moved, but was watching them closely, and came forward when she motioned for him to do so. "Jacob says you were in the barn just now. Why didn't I see you?"

"Are all of Byron and Elliott's friends treated like thieves?"

"Please just answer my question," Alanna replied in a softer tone.

Hunter nodded toward Jacob. "It's no business of his what I do."

Insulted, Jacob widened his stance, and Alanna quickly dismissed him rather than allow the two men to come to blows. Clearly disgruntled, the blacksmith started toward his forge, but before reaching it he turned back and shot Hunter a disgusted glance, deliberately taunting him to follow. Alanna gasped, thinking the Indian might do just that, but his gaze had never left her face and he had failed to note the provocative gesture. That realization was even more alarming than how quickly he had made an enemy of Jacob McBride.

"Why didn't I see you in the barn?" she repeated.

"You were the one who suggested we avoid each other," Hunter reminded her.

"So you were merely avoiding me, rather than hiding?"

"I was hiding to avoid you!"

Appalled by that flash of temper, Alanna stepped back to put more distance between them. Elliott had praised Hunter's tracking skills, but failed to mention that he had such an obnoxious personality. The Indian had been polite rather than rude the first time they had spoken together, however, and when she noticed the pulse throbbing at the base of his throat, she was stunned by the sudden awareness that despite his show of ill-tempered bravado, Jacob had frightened him.

She regarded Indians as the most fearsome creatures ever to stalk the earth, and had never even imagined they could be frightened by anyone, or anything, they encountered. That this man was as human in his responses as the other men she knew was almost beyond her comprehension, but she made a serious attempt to grasp the possibility. She looked away for a moment in hopes of seeing their confrontation from Hunter's point of view. It did not take long for her to understand why he had been so insulted.

"I'm sorry Jacob reacted to you in such a threatening manner. You're the first Indian we've ever had staying here, and he obviously assumed the worst. I'll see the others are told you're a guest."

Believing it must have hurt her pride to apologize to him, Hunter tried to be equally gracious, but all he could manage was a stilted nod.

Elliott had made a point of impressing Alanna with Hunter's importance, and she felt badly that his feelings had been hurt unnecessarily. "Would you like to take another look at the horses?"

In light of his earlier experience with her, Hunter could not help but suspect her motives, and he grew cautious. "Are there stable boys who will come after me with pitchforks?"

Alanna doubted he was teasing and tried to allay his fears. "There are two stable boys, and they do use pitchforks to clean out the stalls, but if you're with me, you'll be safe."

"You want to show me the horses yourself?"

Alanna knew he had every right to be incredulous, because she had been only slightly less hostile than Jacob when he had been introduced to her, but damn it all, he was an Indian! Her eyes started to fill with tears, and she bit her lower lip to force them away. Although she supposed she deserved his sarcastic question, it seemed very unfair.

"I won't force my company on you," she assured him. "There I s a barrel of apples to the right of the main doors. Hand them out the way I did, and you'll easily make friends. I'll find the stable boys, and tell them you're welcome here. I'll make certain everyone who works for us gets that message."

Fearing he had just ruined whatever slim hope he might have had to make friends with her, Hunter tried to think of some way to let her know how much he would enjoy her company. Before he could, Melissa appeared, and the opportunity was lost. She was smiling prettily as she approached them, but her warmth did not erase his guilt at having spoken harshly with Alanna.

"Breakfast is ready, and Byron and Elliott are waiting for you. We're all going to ride into Williamsburg after we've eaten. You want to come along with us, don't you?"

"Will the townspeople stare at me?"

"Probably, but you're very handsome, so why should you mind?"

Distracted by Melissa's flattering compliment, Hunter agreed to visit Williamsburg as they walked back to the house. He didn't notice that Alanna hadn't followed them until they reached the dining room, and then what she thought of him was all too clear. She might have chosen to avoid him again, but with Melissa's charming attentions, Hunter's resulting embarrassment quickly faded.

As promised, Alanna informed the stable boys that her cousins were entertaining an Indian scout, whom they were to treat with the utmost respect. She then sent them off to tell any of the other employees who hadn't heard about Hunter's arrival the previous evening. She seldom went into Williamsburg, and knew neither her cousins nor their Indian friend would miss her that day. She busied herself helping to make bayberry candles, and whenever her thoughts strayed to the attractive brave, she quickly banished them from her mind.

* * *

After a fire destroyed Jamestown's fourth statehouse at the close of the seventeenth century, the capitol of the Virginia Colony was moved to a settlement known as Middle Plantation, and renamed Williamsburg in honor of King William III. Built on a plan devised by the presiding Royal Governor, Francis Nicholson, the city soon grew to be a model of beauty and prosperity.

The hub of a plantation economy, Williamsburg resembled towns in agricultural areas of England more closely than did any of the large cities of New England. The main street was named for the Duke of Gloucester, and connected the Wren Building at the College of William and Mary with the new capitol building nearly a mile away. The streets running parallel to the main boulevard, Francis and Nicholson, paid tribute to the city's designer.