Wind Dancer (22 page)

Samuel reined in next to Isabelle's still horse. “You left without saying good-bye,” he said, his eyes hard, not masking the pain.

Isabelle swallowed. He looked good. Different but good. He was dressed in fine clothes, his hair neatly trimmed, his beard gone. Her gaze roved the bareness of his face. The lean cheeks and dimples. The broad strokes of his eyebrows, darker than his golden hair. The intensity in his amber eyes as they pierced hers. She took a slow and silent breath.

“I didn't think you would care.” She was lying, or hoped she was. She had thought he might, was hoping to hurt him the way he had hurt her.

“When are you going to
know
me?”

She could only stare at him, a tight knot in her throat. Had she misjudged him? “I tried.”

Hope was dismounting. “Adam, I feel the need for some fresh water. Didn't you say there was a stream just up ahead?”

Samuel and Isabelle barely noticed them leave the little clearing, so deep was their concentration on one another.

Samuel edged his horse closer. The horses pawed the ground, growing skittish. But Samuel was firm, determined to reach the woman he loved. With a sudden movement he grasped Isabelle's waist and hauled her off her horse and onto his lap. They sat still as his horse sidestepped, getting its footing.

Isabelle felt that she might fall and cried out, but Samuel grasped her firmly and pulled her to his chest.

They didn't say a word. Their eyes did all the talking for them.

Samuel leaned in, his mouth reaching hers. Isabelle felt a small sob break free from her lips as he kissed her like she'd dreamed he would.

“Don't ever leave me like that again,” Samuel muttered against her lips.

“But I thought …”

“You thought wrong. Don't you know how much I love you?”

Isabelle blinked back tears. “But the necklace. You wanted that more than you wanted me. I know it.”

Samuel took her hand and brought it up to his cheek, then lower, to his chest, his heart.

“I may have had a moment's weakness. It represented something, something I'd been hanging onto and . . . I wasn't sure that I was ready to give it up.”

“What did it represent?”

“A life lost.”

Isabelle shook her head. “If you really love me like you say you do, then Samuel,” she reached up and touched his smooth cheek, “you are going to have to do better than that.”

Samuel exhaled, nodding once. “You have every right to know. I was married once. She died giving birth to my daughter.”

Isabelle's eyes grew round. “You have a daughter?”

Samuel nodded. “Her name is Isabelle, too. But I called her Belle—my little Belle—before I left her, left them all, and rode off to join the army.”

“You left your daughter?” She reared back, appalled.

“She was in better hands with my mother and sisters than with me. I wasn't any good to her then. I had nothing to give her.”

Isabelle quietly digested this shocking revelation. Then she raised her chin and demanded, “Did you love her, your wife?”

Samuel gazed off into the distance, rubbing Isabelle's waist with his thumb. “In a way. I was nineteen. I didn't know much about love.”

“Then why did you ask her to be your wife?”

Samuel shrugged. “My parents and her parents owned adjoining lands. She was an only child, and our fathers wanted us to marry to unite the land.”

“But you didn't want that kind of life.”

Samuel locked gazes with her. “I didn't know what I wanted. All I knew was that she was pretty, in a pale, frail kind of way. But she didn't want me. She only wanted that life.”

“She didn't love you?” Isabelle was sad and unbelieving at the same time. How could anyone not want this beautiful, strong, and capable man?

“No, I don't think she did.”

Isabelle took a long breath. Then she put her palms on either side of his face and commanded his full attention on hers, on her eyes. “Then she was a fool of the worst sort. I would have loved you.” She blinked the tears from her eyes. “I
do
love you.”

He smiled with tight lips, looking like he was trying to hold in the emotion her words stirred in him. Then he crushed her in his embrace, his mouth reaching for hers, their breaths intermingling as their lips made contact.

Samuel pulled back to gasp, “The vows we made … at the Shawnee camp. I want to make them good in a Christian church. Will you be my wife in truth?”

She could only nod and stare into the depth of those amber eyes. “It will be as it has been since we first saw each other. A connection that no one can sever. I have been yours since that day you walked from the trees and met the barrel of my rifle.” She grinned at him. “I will be yours forever.”

Samuel clutched her to him. She smelled the soap on his skin, felt the pliant touch of his lips against her temple, his hand grasping her unbound hair. “I'll not have you staying at home cooking and cleaning, you know,” he whispered in her ear, smiling. “The sky might be our roof and the grass our bed.”

A laugh escaped her chest. “It sounds perfect.”

“I might even make a scout out of you. We might head west and see lands yet undiscovered.”

Isabelle nodded. “We will travel.”

Then she turned serious, leaning back to look at him. “I want to meet her, you know. We have to go there first. Back to your family and get her. She belongs with us.”

Samuel stared at her, a prick of tears in his eyes. “I was hoping you would think so.” He paused and gripped her shoulders. “You know if we go back, they will want us to stay. They will want us to pick up that life.”

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it. We will sort it out … together.”

“You would want another woman's child?”

Isabelle nodded. “I want your child. She will be my Belle too.”

“Sara must have known something. She asked me to name her that, just before she died.”

“Maybe so. I always
did
love that name.”

Samuel threw back his head in laughter. “You are one of a kind, Isabelle Renoir! You are some kind of woman.”

“Isabelle Holt, do you mean? Because I think we are going to have to rush this wedding.”

“Why is that?” He smiled at her again, a smile that welled up and out of him.

“Remember the night at the farmer's house, just outside of Kaskaskia, when we slept together?”

Samuel nodded, looking both eager and afraid of what she might say next.

“Well, I'd like to repeat that night as soon as possible. Only this time, you will not get to turn over and go to sleep.”

* * *

SAMUEL LEANED DOWN to kiss her again, breathing deep, collecting handfuls of her hair in both fists. This woman wouldn't lay there cold and dead as he tried to woo her. No, this woman would woo him.

“Where's the nearest preacher?” his voice rumbled in his chest, almost a purr.

Isabelle laughed. “I think we are halfway between Kaskaskia and Vincennes. My father is in Vincennes, and in Kaskaskia is your friend, Clark. You decide.”

“I think I should meet your father.” Clark wasn't going to be too happy when he discovered Samuel gone again. But the man seemed to be doing just fine on his own on this mission.

“I'm glad. I think he will like you.”

Samuel leaned in for another kiss, which she returned, matching him. She would never be the kind of woman to turn away from the heat of their passion.

Behind his closed eyes he saw Sara, saw her face clearly for the first time in a long time, … and she was smiling. She looked pleased. It was as though she was giving him her blessing—a release from heaven's clouds.

* * *

THEIR REVERIES WERE interrupted by the return of Hope and Adam. They both grinned as they entered the clearing and saw Isabelle atop Samuel's horse, in his arms.

“I guess this means we will be having a wedding?” Hope ventured, happiness in her eyes.

Isabelle nodded from Samuel's arms. “Yes, I believe we will.”

Adam handed up a water canteen. “You two look like you could use some water.”

Isabelle slid down from the horse. “How soon can you plan a wedding, Mother?”

“I think a wedding can be quickly arranged. We are going to Vincennes, yes? We should have your father's blessing on this.”

“Yes. But if he doesn't give it, I will be heading back to Kaskaskia and a wedding with George Rogers Clark in attendance instead.”

Hope looked up to Samuel. “Oh, I think he will give it. I think he will be relieved to have a gypsy like you taken off his hands.”

She was teasing, but Samuel took her seriously.

“I will need your prayers, ma'am.”

Hope nodded and smiled. “Yes, Samuel, you will.”

Adam laughed. “If we mount up and ride hard, we can be there in another day, before Samuel has a chance to change his mind.”

Isabelle huffed at them. “I am That You Cannot Imagine,” she said as she tossed her long, glorious hair over one shoulder. “None of you who know what you can imagine know what you're talking about.”

“Like I said,” Hope laughed, full joy on her face, “you will need some prayer.”

* * *

THE NIGHT WAS bright, lit by a full moon. A few wispy clouds scudded across its face like spiderwebs caught too high, blown on an errant wind. The breeze gusted against Isabelle's new, hastily made dress, pressing it against her legs as she walked to the church. Her chosen bride's gown was red, sure and loud even in the darkness. Her long, unbound hair blew in her face, making her look like the wild gypsy so many had called her. She didn't care. This was her and Samuel's night, a magical night and hard won. He would love her wild ways, and that was all that mattered.

It was time. Almost midnight. Time for a candlelight wedding.

She opened the creaking wooden door of the church and stepped inside.

It was a solemn, old place, full of the comfort of growing-up memories. As she looked over the assemblage of people, she knew a breaking moment of tears rushing to her eyes.

There were so many people.

She hadn't known. She hadn't known how loved her family was. It seemed everyone she'd ever met, and some she didn't even know, were sitting there, looking up at her, their faces wreathed with smiles.

She caught Samuel's eye as she stood at the back of the narrow, silent aisle. He was standing beside Father Francis, a man
whose round, smiling face brought a rise of happy laughter from her chest. How relieved he must be that she had found her purpose, her life's love, the fulfillment of her dreams.

Her father took her arm, his face florid and radiant. Joseph had not only accepted Samuel as his son-in-law; he had taken an immediate liking to him as well. They had spent many afternoons talking and walking, looking over Joseph's business, talking of Samuel's plans, replaying together the hard truth of Julian's death. Hope had been the one to tell him, but somehow Samuel had been the one to recount all the details, to soothe a father's pain. Julian was a hero in the story as Samuel told it. And Isabelle too. Samuel made sure Joseph knew how brave they both had been.

Joseph took the first happy step with her toward her future. Then, halfway down the aisle, in front of everyone, he turned her toward him, kissed her soundly, saying in a loud, jubilant voice, “I love you.”

Isabelle nodded once, looking up into his dark-brown eyes, eyes that looked just like hers. “Yes.”

“And you will always be my girl.”

“Yes.”

“And life will bring you things … things that you can't yet fathom.”

She nodded. Quieter and agreeing, “Yes.”

“But you will always be my beloved daughter.”

Her face crumpled. “Yes,” she breathed, knowing what he was trying to say. Knowing in her heart that, no matter how he had failed, no matter how frail and unable he'd sometimes been, she would always hold a special place in his heart, and he in hers.

Music started, the music she had chosen. It was an old Irish dirge, with bagpipe and flute, that spoke of love lost and then found.

It was time to take her husband.

But she stopped her father from moving forward. She leaned in and whispered into his ear, “And you will always be
mon
Papa
.”

He nodded, tears forming in his eyes. He knew, just like she knew: They were peas, the two of them.

He took a tight hold on her arm, and they were off again, moving toward the man she loved, toward a future she couldn't wait to begin. They practically danced the rest of the way down the aisle, laughing together. The whole congregation was with them—friends, neighbors, French and English settlers, Indians whom Joseph played cards with—everyone loving him and, now, her.

Isabelle arrived at the altar a little breathless, laughing and crying at the same time. She was thrust into Samuel's waiting arms.

Samuel was laughing and shaking his head at them. “What will I do with you?” he whispered into her ear.

“Love me. Only love me,” she whispered back, tilting her head to take in the beauty of his face.

Isabelle took his hands hard in hers and stared up at him with all the meaning of their future shining in her eyes. It was the eve of a new day, a glorious day.

That You Cannot Imagine was joining forces with The Glorious One.

The candlelight flickered, then the air seemed to still as they made their vows. And heaven looked down and smiled. A victory won.

A match made in heaven.

They arrived at Holt Plantation after weeks of travel by horseback. Isabelle could sense the tension in her husband as they crossed the border into Virginia. The tension had mounted steadily since, until his shoulders were pulled up in a knot hunched over the reins, his mouth drawn into a tight, white line. He practically jumped when she spoke.

“Do you think they will be surprised that you are married?”

“I expect so.”

Isabelle laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “But they will love me, don't you think?”

Samuel didn't even crack a smile. “To be honest, I'm not sure they will let us in the door.”

Isabelle sighed and gave up trying to cheer him. He was going to be like this until they found out exactly how his family would react.

In the silence she let her mind wander over the weeks since their wedding. With no home to call their own, they had camped under the stars that first night together. Her parents
had offered them a roof, but they'd both agreed that they wanted to be alone, beyond the reach of any ears and eyes. They had waited out the congratulatory crowd, then packed up Isabelle's personal belongings and said good-bye to the Renoirs, starting out for Kaskaskia where Samuel would report to George Rogers Clark.

Isabelle had married a soldier, and she wouldn't have it any other way. She would go where he went, even into battle if they would allow her, which she doubted. But she wasn't worried; she would find a way to be with him.

Remembering their first night together brought a grin to Isabelle's face, which she quickly tried to hide by looking down and away from Samuel. He had been so shy at first! And she so curious. It hadn't taken her long to disabuse him of any modesty. With the forest floor as their bed and the night as their walls, they'd discovered that they were well matched as lovers, as in the daytime hours.

Upon arriving in Kaskaskia, they'd sought out Clark together, Samuel telling their story. At first Isabelle had been afraid the gleam in Clark's eye meant an inevitable explosion of temper. But after a token lecture on how Samuel should have confided in him, should have trusted him instead of running off without a word to anyone, Clark congratulated them on their marriage.

“What are your plans now?” he asked, knowing there was more.

Samuel took a breath and plunged in. “I guess we're going back to Virginia. As soon as my service here is finished,” he hastened to add. “I was hoping Isabelle could stay here with me until then.”

Clark nodded slowly, rubbed his chin in a gesture of deep concentration. “Things are so quiet here. I would hate to detain you.

“What would you think of riding to Virginia on an errand for me? I have packets for Patrick Henry and the Virginia Legislature. We have made many friends among the Indians, and I want him to read the treaties for himself as soon as possible.”

Samuel nodded. “I could do that.”

Clark grinned. “Then, if you decide to stay in Virginia awhile, that would be all right with me. You have certainly done your duty to your country, Samuel.”

“But if I am needed, I will return.”

“Of course. This fight has been easier than I expected. All three forts are firmly under American control, and hundreds of citizens and Indians have sworn loyalty to our cause. It is beyond what I had hoped.”

“I am glad. I was honored to be a part of it, sir. When do we leave?”

“Give me a day to prepare the documents, then you and your lovely wife can begin the journey home.” He turned to Isabelle. “Are you ready for a trip like this, madam? It could be dangerous. It will certainly be long and tedious.”

“I think I can manage, sir. Thank you for allowing us the chance.”

Clark laughed, looking back at Samuel with a twinkle in his eyes. “You have chosen well, my friend.”

Samuel looked at Isabelle and smiled. “I think so, Colonel. I don't believe there is another like her in the whole territory.”

Clark barked out a laugh. “Don't take away my hope! There must be at least one more.”

Clark gave Samuel a big, shoulder-slapping hug, then turned to Isabelle and kissed her on the cheek. “If he ever mistreats you, you know …” His eyes were twinkling again.

Isabelle blushed. “I will know just where to go.”

They had spent the following day preparing for the journey—purchasing a strong horse for Isabelle, figuring out how to pack all her clothes on the poor beast, stocking up on food and supplies.

And now they were almost there.

* * *

“THERE. DO YOU see it?” Samuel's husky voice interrupted her musings.

Isabelle stood up in her stirrups and peered over the rolling hills. There in the distance, on a bluff overlooking the James River, sat a massive stone house.

“Well,” Isabelle grinned at Samuel, “may as well get this finished and find out if we are to sleep in that fancy house tonight or back on the trail. I would like to sleep in a real bed for a change.”

Samuel laughed. “That doesn't sound half bad.”

Over the remaining distance Isabelle kept her awe of the place to herself. Huge trees draped in fall colors lent splashes of crimson and gold and orange onto the ground, like a painting come to life on a westward wind, lining either side of the drive up to the mansion. At the end of this picturesque passage was a three-story house. Fourteen windows in rows of five encircled a huge door framed with ornate molding. Four massive chimneys stood sentinel at each corner of the house, with a light-colored roof lit by the afternoon sun completing the picture.

Samuel led them to a hitching post off to one side of the drive. He dismounted and helped Isabelle down by grasping firm hold of her waist and pulling her from the horse into his arms. A long kiss later—a kiss to remind them that, no matter what,
they had each other—they turned and wrapped the reins about the hitching posts.

Samuel silently took Isabelle's hand and led her up the walk to the front door. He raised his hand, hesitated, then knocked.

Moments later the door was opened by a black man wearing a fancy suit. Isabelle suddenly felt every speck of the trail dirt and looked down at her dress, realizing that she wasn't exactly looking her best. “I probably stink too,” she accidentally mumbled aloud, causing Samuel to turn toward her and chuckle as the old man exclaimed, “Why, Master Samuel. It's Master Samuel!” His brown eyes lit up, and his lips curved in a big toothy smile. He turned and yelled to the house at large. “Master Samuel's come home! Master Samuel's come home, y'all!”

Samuel was swept inside as Isabelle stood blinking in the foyer.

Feminine voices were raised from the back of the house. Samuel appeared braced for anything. A tall, stately woman with upswept silver hair and dressed in an elegant, pale-blue brocade gown entered the room and stopped short upon seeing him, her hand rising to her mouth.

“Samuel?” She whispered it, the sound echoing off the tall ceilings. “I cannot consider it.” There was a slight sheen in her eyes as she came forward and put her arms awkwardly around him. “You have come home, at last.” She sniffed once, pulling herself up straight and tall. Turning her gaze toward Isabelle, she asked, “And who is this?” Her gaze swept from Isabelle's dirty hair to her mud-caked boots, making Isabelle really wish she had thought to stop and freshen up before they arrived.

Samuel turned and pulled Isabelle forward, his hand a comforting presence on her low back. “Mother, this is Isabelle. My wife.”

“Isabelle? Oh, goodness.”

Isabelle dipped a small curtsy. “So good to make your acquaintance, ma'am.”

The three sisters rushed into the room, exclaiming over Samuel, chattering like birds in springtime and examining Isabelle much like their mother had. She soon learned their names. Ruth was the eldest and looked very much the spinster Samuel had described her to be. RaeAnn was plumper than the others, the only dark-haired one of the group, with small eyes that studied Isabelle thoughtfully.

The youngest, though, grasped her hand and gave her a beaming smile. “I'm so pleased to meet you. You can call me Betsy. That is what all of my friends call me.” A southern drawl warmed her voice.

“Rebecca,” corrected her mother in a tone that broached no argument, “stop fawning over the girl. I am sure she is, well, tired from her long journey.” She looked around, and a servant mysteriously appeared. “Show them to their room, Lorena. Samuel's room. And bring them food and … lots of hot water.”

Samuel laughed, leaning over and kissing her wrinkled cheek. “You haven't changed a bit, Mother. It is good to see you again.” He seemed relieved. They were to stay.

“And why should I change?” his mother challenged, but there was softness in her eyes as she gazed at the face of her only son. Then she said in a kind voice, “You have changed much since I last saw you.”

Samuel nodded agreement. He had left a boy and come back a man. A married man. “Where is Father? And Belle? I would like to see my daughter.”

Margaret, Samuel's mother, waved her hand. “Oh, you know your father. I expect he will be home in a day or two. Belle is with her nurse. I will send her up directly.”

They were led upstairs, the house as grand on the inside as it was out. Cream-paneled walls graced every room. The glittering chandeliers and wall sconces would make a festive light when night fell. Samuel's room was in perfect order—a pale green and gold counterpane on the bed, dark-green curtains drawn at the wide windows, which Lorena opened, flooding the room in light. There was a simple desk and chair, a large bureau of polished walnut, and a matching armoire. Samuel dropped their dusty saddlebags onto the plush rug that covered gleaming wood floors.

“Good heavens, Master Samuel! You look as dirty as pigs. Where you been all these years? Scaring your momma half out of her wits leaving like you did, not that she showed it. I just know her. And your father,” she threw her hands up, “whoo-eee, he was a surly bear for those first months when you didn't come back. We all thought you was gone for good.”

Samuel laughed, and it was a hearty sound. Apparently Lorena had spoken to him like this often.

Isabelle felt she'd stepped into another world. This was a wealthy home, a wealthy family with a deeply entrenched life. Her father had been successful, providing well for them in their wilderness outpost. But this—this was different. Real wealth, real power, real culture.

Lorena busied herself setting out an enormous amount of silver on a small table that another servant had carried into their room and set up, followed closely by two chairs. Before Isabelle could blink, there were two settings of China plates, silver tableware, linen napkins, and silver dish upon covered dish with steaming hot, heavenly smelling food. Her mouth started to water, and she swallowed quickly as she stared at it.

“Why, look at that girl! She's fairly starving, she's so thin. You been feeding your wife?”

Samuel chuckled again. “I sure did miss you, Lorena.” He laughed, squeezing her tight.

The woman promptly burst into tears and smacked him on his big, muscled arm. “Now look what you've done. Oh!” Then she fled the room, her wide skirts swaying with her hurried steps. “Jonas, you got that tub ready?” they heard her yell as she fled down the hall.

Isabelle sank into a chair at the table and laughed. “She is quite in love with you.”

Samuel sat across from her, reaching for a juicy-looking chicken leg. “Yep. My nursemaid as a child. And I can tell you, she's all bark. The girls never could get anything over on her … but me?” He held up his little finger. “Wrapped so tight, I could have told her the moon was blue, and she would have agreed.”

Isabelle laughed, reaching for the food. There was steamed asparagus, so green and dripping butter she could hardly tear her eyes off it. Three kinds of meat—a whole roasted chicken, sliced honeyed ham, and a thick beefsteak with peppercorns smeared over it. Corn pudding, flaky rolls that melted in her mouth, and some other kind of bread Isabelle wasn't sure of. She took a quick bite, her eyes growing round with delight.

“Good?”

“Oh, yes. This is like nutty pumpkin-apple bread. Mmmmm. Did you eat like this every day?”

Samuel nodded, his mouth full and eyes twinkling at her. “Most days. I guess you will be getting fat if we stay here any time at all.”

Isabelle threw a pea at him. “I guess I will.” She laughed, drinking of the cool apple cider. “This is the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

Samuel leaned over and took her hand, the one clinging to a chicken wing and teased, “The best thing?”

Isabelle turned her head down a little down and to one side. “Well, maybe not the best thing. We haven't tried out a real bed yet.”

Samuel groaned and laughed. “I might have known taking you here with me would make it so much better.” He paused, looking at her with such love. “I couldn't have done this without you, Isabelle Holt.”

“I'm glad you didn't have to.” She felt so happy just being with him that it didn't really matter what his mother or sisters thought of her, of them.

A sound at the doorway caused them both to turn at the same time.

There in a white, frilly gown, her hair shoulder length, straight and so blonde it was nearly white, stood Samuel's daughter.

Isabelle heard Samuel's sudden intake of breath.

“My little Belle.” He said it so quietly that Isabelle was sure the child did not hear him.

But she had.

And all Isabelle could think of was how opposite the girl looked from her. How the past was meeting the present. And how reconciliation would have to be worked out, somehow, between abandoned relatives and the three of them, this new family.

And always, now, the ghost of a mother who could have been.