Wind Dancer (23 page)

Hello, Father,” the child said with perfect diction, dipping into a curtsey.

Isabelle stifled a laugh, remembering how at this child's age she would propel herself into her father's arms and lap when he returned from a long excursion, demanding candy and treats and presents, knowing that she would find them in his haversack or hidden in his curled-up fists. But this child had a pale face, almost as white as her hair, and big, solemn eyes. Isabelle found suddenly a mother's heart, wanting to gather the child up and hold her. But she knew that look of independent pride and so remained still in her chair, her hands tightly clasped to stop any headlong rush. Something told her—some innate reading of another soul—that she must win this heart with stealth and cunning. It would be hard and slow won. But she was determined.

Samuel rose from the table, walked to the little girl, and squatted down in front of her. “Hello, Belle,” he said, as solemn as she.

They didn't seem to know what to say to each other, so Isabelle stepped forward, gesturing toward the laden table. “Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”

The girl's eyes locked with Isabelle's, and Isabelle saw a flash of pain and resentment. “I don't eat at this hour, ma'am.”

Isabelle laughed, not to be put off. “No? Not ever?” She gave her the look her mother used to give her, chin down, eyebrows raised, knowing that such a look somehow, someway impaled the heart and demanded truth.

The girl looked quickly down, turning pink. “Once I went to the kitchens, and the cook gave me a cookie.” She looked up at Isabelle. “But I shouldn't have taken it.”

Isabelle leaned down, reached out, and touched the little girl softly on the shoulder. “Not such a great sin, I should think,” Isabelle said in a sincere voice. Then she leaned in with a conspirator's whisper. “Why, one time, I ate a whole pie in the middle of the afternoon. And,” she paused, waiting for the girl's full attention, then finished in a dramatic whisper, “
it came from a neighbor's
window
.”

Belle's eyes grew round with shock. “You stole it?”

Isabelle laughed, winking at the child. “I surely did. And got my behind switched for that one. But it was an awfully good pie, and later I thought it worth the punishment.”

The child didn't look like she believed her or at least didn't know what to make of such a tale.

Samuel chuckled, motioning toward Isabelle. “Do you know who this is?”

The little girl slowly shook her head back and forth, staring at Isabelle like she might sprout horns at any moment.

“This is your new mama.”

Belle looked genuinely appalled.

“And you know what?”

Belle looked at her father and shook her head again.

“Her name is Isabelle too.”

That really shook the girl. Isabelle was sure she was wondering how someone like her could sully such a grand name.

“But you won't call me Isabelle,” Isabelle assured, kneeling in front of the child, locking gazes with those big brown eyes. “I hope, someday, you will call me mama … . or
Ma Mère
, as that is what I called my mama when I was young.

She didn't look as if she would ever do anything of the sort but was much too polite to say so, so only responded with a quick nod. Isabelle reached for her hand and brought the girl to the table, seating her in her chair. “I think it's time for me to remove this grime from the road. And you,” she looked up at Samuel, “should finish this forbidden mid-afternoon meal with your daughter.”

* * *

SAMUEL WATCHED HER go behind the screen in wonderment. He hadn't known what to think of his Isabelles meeting each other. Couldn't even fathom how they would be together. She'd always said that children bored her. But his wife had seemed caught and intent, willing this child and them to come together as a whole. He found a knot in his throat tightening with the thought of it.

He picked up a clean plate and set it before his daughter, saying, “You can have anything you want this day, Belle. Because today is a special day. Do you know why?”

Belle shook her head, her eyes on the pumpkin bread Isabelle had so enjoyed.

“Today is the day I found my Belle again.”

“Are you staying, sir?”

The child was to the point and intuitive enough to get to the root of matters right away. “I don't know,” he answered honestly. “But if I go, you will go with me.”

She swallowed, gingerly picking up the bread her father had placed on her plate. “Going where? I don't think I would like to leave.”

Samuel laughed. “You might not think so. But Isabelle and I go on grand adventures. Wouldn't you like a grand adventure?”

She looked as though the idea had never crossed her mind. Thoughtfully she chewed on the sweet bread. “I don't know. What
is
a grand adventure?”

Samuel laughed with a huff. He found he didn't know how to explain it. “Well … I think you might like it.”

Isabelle came from behind the screen a few moments later, washed with wet hair and a clean dress on. She was toweling her hair as she walked over to the table. “Belle, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you want to go?”

Belle's little brow puckered. She was clearly stumped, and Isabelle had to wonder if the child's obvious education had included any geography.

“To Williamsburg, with Grandfather,” she finally said.

Samuel laughed, wiping the final crumbs from his mouth. He rose, stretched, and winked at Isabelle. “I think I would have answered the same at her age.”

A young woman appeared in the doorway and, spying Belle, scolded her. “You'll ruin your dinner, girl. Come on, now, time for lessons.”

Samuel pierced the woman with a stare. “She is sharing a celebratory dinner with her father. I shouldn't take her to task for it if I were you.”

The woman nodded. “Yes, sir.” But she didn't look like she liked it.

Samuel gave Belle a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then said, “Go with your nurse now. I will see you again soon.”

* * *

HIS FATHER WAS back.

Samuel and Isabelle had spent the previous evening in the company of his mother and sisters, sharing with them stories of his missions over the years. His sisters had asked a thousand questions about his meeting with Isabelle, but he left out most of the details of the Indian capture. Samuel deftly conveyed the tale in a way that made Isabelle out to be a hero. By the end of the telling, they were looking at their new sister-in-law with something between awe and horror. And he'd only told them the best parts.

They had been so sheltered, their lives so different from his.

Now, after a day of visiting the plantation, talking to the overseer, and spending time with Belle, he and Isabelle had escaped to their bedroom, despite the early hour.

Then the summons had come.

His father was home, and it was time. He gave Isabelle a quick kiss on the forehead, reached for the saddlebag of gold, and turned from her. At the door he turned back around. “I'll call you down to meet him if it seems right.”

Isabelle nodded, looking forward to the thickly feathered bed. “I understand. I will get myself on my knees and start to pray.” She grinned a wicked-looking grin, making him feel that no matter what happened everything would turn out all right.

The walk to his father's library reminded him of many other times he had walked down that hall. Times when he was called to the carpet for some misbehavior, times of import when his father
shared some important news of the plantation or the family, times of counsel concerning the business of running such a plantation. Looking back on his younger days, Samuel realized that his father had always included him, had tried to make this life as important to Samuel as it was to him. He had been training Samuel to take possession of it someday.

Now he turned the knob and stepped into the library, his heart beating in his chest like it did when he was rushing into a battle.

Thomas Holt turned in his chair, a smile on his lips. When he saw Samuel standing in the shadows cast by the firelight, his features faltered, then on a rush of breath said, “They didn't tell me it was you.”

Samuel was surprised. How could they have kept such a thing from him? His mother's face flashed before his eyes, and he knew that she had planned for and wanted this shock.

“Who did you think was coming?” Samuel asked quietly, walking farther into the room.

His father just stared for a long moment. “She said someone important was here to see me. Someone I had not seen in a long time. I thought maybe Jefferson, or even George Washington himself. It never occurred to me that it might be you.”

Thomas stood, poured two stiff drinks and brought one to Samuel, handing it across the abyss that stretched between them.

“I'm sorry.”

His father laughed, a short, hard sound. “Sorry for what, son? Sorry you left? Sorry you broke my heart?”

Samuel set the glass on the desk, and nodded. “Yes. Sorry for all that. And sorry they didn't tell you.”

His father sipped at his drink. Returning to his chair behind
a huge, scarred desk, he sat down. He looked long and considering at his son.

“I heard you were in Washington's army. Distinguished yourself. A corporal, am I right?”

Samuel nodded, taking the seat across from him. “It was a volatile time. It fit my mood.”

Thomas smiled a grim smile, sipping again. “Would that I could have gone with you.” He stared off into the distance. “I didn't blame you, you know. I understood.” A long pause in which Samuel was wise enough to keep silent followed. “I was a young man once, wanted to join the army in the French and Indian war. But we'd only just arrived. And my father wanted the impoverished aristocrat's life. We didn't have time for our country or our manhood. We had a farm to build.”

Samuel had never really thought of it that way, had never wondered if his father had wanted anything different from this life he seemed so set on prospering. “I didn't know.”

“Of course you didn't. Had I told you, I wouldn't have had a chance of keeping you here. As it was, you were determined to make your own mark. You never wanted mine.”

Samuel looked hard into his father's eyes. “I don't want you to think I took it for granted. I wanted to want it. I tried. But after Sara … everything opened up underneath me, and I thought—no, I knew—that if I stayed here, I would never be anything.”

“Is that why you're back? Are you ready to face it?”

Samuel looked down at the saddlebag of gold beside his chair. He rose, lifted it, and dumped the massive amount of coin, trickling like a waterfall as they cascaded onto the desk. “I am ready to face you.”

Thomas stared at the coins, glittering in the candlelight. “You didn't use it.” He seemed surprised. And proud.

“A little. I married a woman, a French woman from Vincennes, and I needed a little to get us both back here.”

Thomas chuckled and nodded over his clasped hands. “Yes, women will cost you extra.” He reached for the gold, lifted up a handful, and let it pour through his fingers back to the desk. “Is she worth it? This blow to your pride.” He was smiling, but it was a kind, understanding smile.

Samuel didn't smile back. “I have done many things that I never dreamed I would do to have her. She is worth everything.”

Thomas nodded. He looked up at his son in the flicker of the candlelight, reading his son's eyes. “And what do you want now, Samuel? Do you want this plantation? Because I've kept it for you. I won't let some son-in-law inherit what rightly belongs to a Holt, though they plague me to death to do it. Or do you prefer the gold? I will double it since you are married. Women are expensive creatures.”

Samuel shook his head. “I don't know. Being back is bittersweet. I have been walking the land. I see it differently now. I know its cost. And then there's Belle.”

“Ah, Belle. Now you can't take my only joy from me.” He looked serious.

Samuel decided to bare his heart as he never had. He needed this man's advice. “Tell me then. I've married a woman who can outshoot, outtrack, and outfight most men I know. I've married a gypsy who is as at home in the wilderness as she is decked out in finery in a ballroom. The Indians who captured her named her That Which You Cannot Imagine, and there is nothing better to call her. She astounds me at every turn. And then I have a daughter that seems tied up inside. Isabelle would free her of that. I would free her of that. But I know Belle needs stability and a good education. I know now that you love her, and she said to me
that her greatest request is to go to Williamsburg with you. You have been more a father to her than I.”

He paused, seeing tears well up in Thomas's eyes.

“And I … I could run this place. I have remembered how much I loved it in the days I've been back. I could stay here. Make it work. But there would be a part of me, and of my wife, that would long for something else … something greater than a secure life could provide.

“Tell me, what should I do?”

Thomas stared off into the flames of the fire, considering. Finally he spoke. “The needs of a young man are different from the needs of an older man, Samuel.” He leaned across the desk toward his son. “Do you see this gold?”

Samuel nodded.

“It is not so much. Less than what I am giving the girls for their dowries. I only wanted to make sure you didn't starve.” He laughed. “I want them to marry men who have something of their own to give them, and they will. RaeAnn has a beau that will make her very comfortable, if she will come around. And Becky? Becky has her pick of the men around here. She will do just fine.” He took another long drink and said thoughtfully, setting the glass on the desk, his fingers wrapped comfortably around it, “From everything you have told me, I think you and your wife should take this gold and live your young lives as you see fit. And then, when you are both older and ready to settle down, your mother and I will probably be ready to hand this place over to you.”