Too Far to Whisper (11 page)

“Your nightdress was torn,” he said. “I recalled seeing a piece of it missing. I knew I had to find it ere Elias did.”

She sucked in her breath. “And did you?”

He nodded. “In the very last place I thought to search…in Jonathan’s hand.” Despite Rosalind’s stricken expression, he continued, “Death had made his fist difficult to open, but I managed to wrench the fabric free and tuck it into my breeches just moments before Matthew…and his musket…descended upon me.” He touched the gash on his forehead. “Although he did not aim the shot at me, he still used the musket…against my head.”

Rosalind reached out and gently touched the gash on his forehead. “I shall never forgive myself for this.”

“It is not your fault,” he said. Concerned eyes searched her face. “They do not suspect you, do they?”

She shook her head. “I already was safely tucked in bed when Matthew made the discovery. I heard the shot and feared you were dead.” She paused before lowering her head and saying, “If I could return to the past and repeat this eve, I never would have struck Jonathan.”

“Had you not struck him, you would have been raped,” Shadow said tightly.

Rosalind looked directly at him. “Being raped would have been preferable to seeing you executed.”

“Do not speak so foolishly.” Shadow’s hand moved to cover hers. “Your life is worth ten of mine.”

Rosalind did not know how to respond. For what purpose, she wondered, after all she had done to destroy his life, would Shadow place such a high value on hers?

One of the horses moved in its stall and kicked the wall. The noise startled Rosalind and made her realize that the next sound she heard very well could be one of the Corwins coming out to the stables.

“Come,” she said to Shadow, rising to her feet. “You must be well away from here ere the sun rises…and I must be back in my chamber. They will come for you soon.”

He made no move to stand. “It is not my nature to run. I am no coward.”

Rosalind could not conceal her feelings of panic. “Please, Shadow, I beseech you! Just this once, disregard your pride and save yourself! If you refuse to do it for yourself, then do it for me! Are you so cruel that you would condemn me to a life in which I must forever bear the burden of your death? Is that what you wish for me?”

The fear and desperation in her voice made him seriously consider her words. Still, running away like some frightened rabbit was not his way…not the way of his people.

Rosalind dropped to her knees in front of him. “
Please
, Shadow,” she whispered.

The moment he looked into her wide blue eyes, he knew he could not refuse her. He nodded.

“Thank you.” She spared him a shaky smile. “Now, let us see if you are able to stand.” She moved to assist him to his feet, her arm around his waist. He leaned against her as he tested his legs. They were as wobbly as a newborn calf’s.

Shadow’s head throbbed and his vision blurred. He clung to Rosalind as the walls swirled around him.

Rosalind could not mask her concern as she helped lower him back onto the straw. “Do you think you will be fit enough to make your escape?”

Shadow leaned his head back against the wall of the stall. “Do not concern yourself. I shall be fine.”

Rosalind cast an apprehensive glance toward the house. “If you are certain you will be all right, I really must return to my chamber now. I fear I already have stayed far too long.”

Shadow lifted his head to look at her, but he offered no response.

Impulsively, Rosalind knelt next to him and lightly touched her lips to his forehead. “Godspeed,” she whispered, then stood and turned to leave. The thought of never seeing Shadow again disturbed her more than she ever could have imagined.

Her retreat was halted by a strong tug on the hem of her skirt. She turned and looked down to see Shadow’s hand grasping it. “Come with me,” he softly said.

The gaze that rose to meet hers was so intense, Rosalind had to remind herself to breathe.

“I cannot!”

Shadow’s stare was unwavering. “Then you are happy here? Happy at the thought of spending the rest of your life with the captain?” His grip tightened on her skirt.

Her lack of response revealed more to him than her words might have. “’Tis complicated,” Rosalind finally said. “And this is neither the time nor the place to relate all of the details to you.”

“Then come away with me,” he repeated. “Break free of whatever hold the Corwins have on you.”

His mention of the Corwins having a hold on her took her aback. Were her feelings, she wondered, so easy to read?

“What you ask is impossible,” she said. “Were I to leave with you, I never would be allowed to return here again, nor to see my family. My heart could not bear that. And if I ever dared to desert Nathaniel, my family would lose…” She stopped herself from revealing any more about Nathaniel’s threats. 

Shadow, however, she noticed, suddenly did not seem to be paying attention to her. The tilt of his head told her he was listening to something in the distance. Struggling to his feet, he gripped the edges of the stalls for support as he moved to peer out the door. “There is light coming from within the house,” he said.  “Someone is awake.”

He returned to the stall, his movements now stronger, and stooped to gather the blanket, pillow coate, and all remnants of the rope that had bound him. He wanted no one to discover that the ropes had been cut. He spied the bloodstained piece of fabric Rosalind had used to wipe his forehead, and quickly stuffed it into the sack. He had to make certain no evidence remained that would lead Elias to believe his escape had been assisted. He even bent to fluff the pile of straw where Rosalind had knelt and caused it to flatten.

Rosalind froze, her face growing pale. “They cannot find me here!”

A door slammed in the distance.

“Dear Lord!” she gasped. “They are coming! What shall I do now?”

“Come with me.” Shadow extended his hand to her. “We can escape through the back and be safely in the woods ere anyone reaches the stables.”

Rosalind cast a panicky glance toward the house, then turned to face Shadow. She was left with little choice, she decided. Hesitating only briefly, she accepted his hand.

* * * * *

“The savage has escaped!” Matthew shouted as he burst into his father’s bedchamber. “There is no trace of him!”

Elias sat up, immediately awake. “Impossible! No one could break free of those bonds.”

“Then someone must have helped him,” Matthew returned. “I will wager it was the other savage, Silver Cloud.”

“Did you check the workers’ shed to see if Silver Cloud was within?”

Matthew shook his head. “I came straight here after checking the stables.”

Elias slid out of bed and hastily donned a shirt and breeches. “For what purpose did you check on the prisoner? If you heard something that disturbed your sleep, you should have awakened me posthaste.”

“’Twas not a noise, but a feeling,” Matthew said. “I awoke with a strong feeling something was amiss. I did not wish to trouble you until I was certain.”

“Well, let us go investigate.” Elias sighed. “I should have known the Indian would cause us trouble.”

When Elias and Matthew reached the workers’ shed, they found Silver Cloud sleeping within.

“You do not fool me!” Matthew shouted, grabbing the Indian by the arm and yanking him from his pallet. Silver Cloud landed on all fours. “Tell me where Shadow Runner is!”

Dazed, Silver Cloud squinted up at the intruders, then shook his head to clear it. “I know not of what you speak,” he replied hoarsely.

Outraged, Matthew grasped a fistful of the Indian’s hair and jerked his head back. “Your Indian companion has escaped! Where is he?” He released his grip on Silver Cloud’s hair and shoved his head forward with the heel of his hand.

“Escaped?” Silver Cloud repeated, moving to a sitting position. “Why after all this time would he suddenly wish to escape?”

“Because he murdered Jonathan,” Elias answered, carefully studying the Indian’s reaction to the news.

Silver Cloud’s head snapped in the direction of Jonathan’s empty bed. “Jonathan is dead? “

“You
know
he is!” Matthew shot back.

“I thought I heard a gunshot and your voices earlier,” Silver Cloud said, “but I guessed you were after another wolf at the sheep, so I paid no mind.”

“Liar!” Matthew’s eyes blazed. “You will tell us where the savage is hiding or we will beat the truth from you!”

“Calm yourself, Matthew,” Elias ordered, still gazing intently at the Indian. “I believe Silver Cloud speaks the truth. He knows nothing of tonight’s events.”

Matthew gaped at his father. “How can you suggest this man is innocent of any wrongdoing? Shadow Runner had an accomplice, I am certain of it.”

“I am not,” Elias said, rubbing his chin. “Perhaps we have misjudged the Indian’s strength and cunning. He might very well have made his escape entirely on his own.”

Matthew frowned. “If that is true, then he is far more dangerous than we imagined.” He moved toward the door. “Come, Father, we must track him down and make him pay for what he has done ere he harms anyone else.”

“’Tis still too dark out to follow his trail,” Elias said. “We shall wait until the sun’s first light.”

“I do not like the idea of giving him such a lengthy head start,” Matthew said.

“I fear we have little choice,” Elias said. “But mark my words, son, we will find him…and when we do, I shall not be so lenient this time. I promise you he will not live long enough to see the inside of a gaol.”

CHAPTER SIX

Surrounded by a protective wall of spruce trees, Rosalind and Shadow sat on a large, flat rock and rested for the first time since their escape. The day was overcast and humid, and the heavy air clung to Rosalind like a second sticky skin. Silently, she and Shadow shared a portion of the cheese and bread she had taken from the Corwins’ kitchen. Although she was not hungry, she knew she must force herself to eat if she wished to keep up her strength…and keep up with Shadow. The effects of his injuries had been short-lived, and too quickly his pace had become a grueling one, forcing her to run during most of their journey.

A wide brook flowed just below the rock on which they were seated. When they first had arrived, both of them had cupped their hands, filled them with the cool water and drunk their fill.

As Rosalind nibbled on a piece of cheese, she stared at the Indian. With his wild mane of black hair, he looked every bit the savage and, she thought, comfortably at home in the midst of this insect-infested wilderness. A sudden feeling of panic swept over her and she ceased chewing. She barely knew this man, yet here she was, far from her home and family, alone with him, trusting her life to him. Her uneasiness increased as she wondered who would come to her rescue if Shadow proved to be more lecherous than Jonathan. The squirrels and the rabbits?

Shadow felt Rosalind’s eyes burning into him as he ate. He turned to face her, his expression concerned. “What troubles you?”

“Everything,” she quietly answered, momentarily allowing herself to be drawn into the depths of his eyes. “I shall never see my family again, and I am most assuredly a wanted woman by now. A hangman’s noose awaits me as surely as it awaits you. How could I have done this to my mother and sisters?”

“Calm yourself,” Shadow said, setting down his piece of bread on the rock. “You shall be able return to your family any time you so desire, and everything will be fine.”

Her expression reflected her confusion.

“Think about it, Rosalind,” he said, moving closer to her. “Surely no one will suspect you ran off with me, a
murderer
, of your own free will, especially when you were in the midst of planning a wedding that assuredly would be the biggest event the town has ever seen. Nay, they will believe something terrible happened – perhaps that the night’s events had robbed you of your sleep, and you were outside getting some air just as I made my escape…and I took you hostage after forcing you to steal food and supplies for me.” He managed a slight smile. “After all, according to your people, we savages are in the habit of doing things like that.”

Rosalind opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “You do not have to remain with me for any longer than you wish. You can allow them to find you whenever you so desire, for you know there must be searchers on our trail at this very moment, perhaps less than two hours away. And when they do find you, you will be regarded as a heroine, not an accomplice, because you managed to escape from the murderous savage who, in their eyes, surely would have tortured and scalped you after he had his way with you.”

Rosalind carefully considered his words. They made sense, she concluded. The Corwins, because they thought so highly of her, would be more likely to believe she was a helpless victim than an accomplice. And if she were indeed to be considered a heroine upon her return, it could only help her family. But how long, she wondered, should she remain with Shadow? Should she allow the searchers to find her as soon as possible and put an abrupt end to all of this madness?  A vision of Nathaniel embracing her and kissing her, and Abigail contacting dressmakers in Boston to fashion her wedding dress, filled her with nothing but dread. She looked at Shadow, who had resumed eating his piece of bread. He had been so kind to her, so unselfish in all of his actions – the complete opposite of the captain. Perhaps, she decided, another day on the run with him might not be so bad after all. Besides that, and she was embarrassed to admit it even to herself, she was finding the adventure to be quite exciting.

“You have been naught but kind to me,” she softly said to Shadow. “Therefore, I fear I shall not be the least bit convincing if I have to tell everyone I was taken hostage by you.”

“They will believe you,” he said. “They trust you.”

Rosalind absently toyed with a dead maple leaf. “So where will you go when we part? Back to your village?”

He shook his head. “My guess is that will be the first place Elias will look. I shall head toward the Banke.”

“Portsmouth?” Rosalind arched a brow. “’Tis such a busy port. Why there?”

“A friend of mine, Adam Stoddard, a fisherman, lives there. You might say he is the family not many are aware I have.”

“How so?”

“His daughter, Mary, wed my cousin, Storm Dancer, four summers past. Mary and Adam have taught my people much about the English and their ways.”

“Including our language?”

He nodded.

“And your people have accepted Mary as one of their own?”

“For the most part. At first, my cousin’s family was against the union. They wanted him to wed a girl from our village, not a white woman. But Mary and Storm Dancer were determined to be together.”

“Are they happy?”

“When last I saw them, they were…but that was nearly a year ago.”

Rosalind stared at Shadow for a moment before she plucked up the courage to ask, “Tell me, Shadow, did you
really
try to steal the Corwins’ sheep? Ever since Nathaniel told me of your crime, I have been very curious as to why you would do such a thing. Stealing just seems so…beneath you.”

He chuckled. “It is a long story…which I will tell you this eve when we stop for the night…that is, if you intend to still remain with me.”

“Well, now I feel I must,” Rosalind said, smiling. “Otherwise, I shall be forever curious about your story!”

Shadow returned her smile, then grew serious. “We must be on our way, then. It is certain that Elias and his men are not far behind us.” He rose to his feet and extended his hand to her.

“You do realize that Elias and Matthew will not rest until they see you hang?” Rosalind said, taking his hand and allowing him to help her up.

“They do not know these woods the way I do. They will not find me…unless I wish them to.”

* * * * *

Abigail Corwin was concerned. Rosalind usually was so punctual with her breakfast tray. But on this morn, she was late…very late. It was not the food that Abigail craved, it was Rosalind’s company. Seeing the lovely blonde’s cheerful smile each morning always gave her the incentive to face the rest of the day. The chamber seemed dark and dismal without Rosalind to brighten it. Fastening her gaze on the chamber door, Abigail grew increasingly impatient.

After many long minutes dragged by, Abigail decided to take matters into her own hands. Struggling to her feet, she left her bed and inched her way toward the door that connected her chamber with Rosalind’s. Lightly she rapped on it. When she received no response, she knocked with more force, then slowly creaked open the door and peered inside. There was no sign of Rosalind within, and her bed was unmade, which was not Rosalind’s habit at all. The very first thing the girl usually did upon rising each morning was straighten her bed.

Abigail stepped out into the hallway and shouted for Elias. It was Grace who answered her.

“Your husband left just ere daybreak with Master Matthew, ma’am,” Grace informed her from the foot of the stairs. “They have gone in search of the Indian.”

“Which Indian?” Abigail asked. She vaguely recalled hearing voices and shouting in the night, but her medicine usually rendered her too drowsy to discern dreams from reality.

Grace seemed surprised by the woman’s question. “Has Mistress Rosalind not yet informed you of last evening’s events? I was certain it would be the topic of your conversation this morning.”

“I have not yet seen Rosalind. Know you of her whereabouts?” Abigail asked. “Has she been to the kitchen to fetch my breakfast tray yet?”

“Nay, ma’am.” Grace shook her head. “Perhaps she is still within her chamber, asleep. I fear she did not get much rest last night.”

“I just checked her chamber and she was not within. And her bed is unmade.”

Grace immediately looked concerned. “’Tis not like her at all. Do you wish me to search for her?”

“Please,” Abigail answered, leaning against the wall for support. “But first, I would greatly appreciate it if you would enlighten me. Pray tell, what occurred here last eve?”

“The Indian, the one they call Shadow Runner, he murdered Jonathan – smashed his head on a rock,” Grace said. “Matthew and Mr. Corwin bound the Indian and left him in the stables so they could take him to the gaol this morn. But during the night, the savage managed to escape.”

“Shadow? A murderer?” Abigail shook her head. “There must be some mistake. He has always been a good man, a hard worker. He has never caused us any problems.”

“The minds of savages are not easily understood,” Grace said. “Mr. Corwin said that when provoked in even the slightest way, they can snap as easily as dry twigs. Why, the Indian even had the impudence to enter this house and steal food and clothing for his escape!  When I entered the kitchen this morn, I noticed that a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese were missing, along with one of Matthew’s shirts I had placed by the hearth to dry after washing it. Oh, and my best carving knife! And not a soul heard him roaming about.”

“He was
here
, in this house?” Abigail suddenly felt weak, her heart thumping wildly.

“Aye!” Grace frowned. “Can you believe it?  Granted, I always knew the man was a thief, trying to steal your sheep and all, but imagine being bold enough to enter this house after committing a murder? Had I been him, I would have run like the wind the second I broke free. I do believe he came in here not because he actually needed any supplies, for I am certain he is an expert at surviving in the wilderness, but solely because he wished to make us look the fools!”

The walls began to spin around Abigail, and her legs threatened to give out beneath her. Grace sensed that the woman was about to swoon, and bolted up the stairs two at a time to assist her. Supporting Abigail against her hip, Grace led her back to her chamber and lowered her onto the bed.

“Grace,” Abigail whispered, reaching out for the housemaid’s hand and clasping it. “If, as you say, the Indian was indeed here in the house last night, what, pray tell, do you suppose might have occurred had Rosalind unexpectedly stumbled upon him?”

Grace’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Dear Lord,” she breathed, her free hand flying up to clasp her chest, “you do not suspect that Mistress Rosalind might have confronted the savage, do you?”

“I do not know. But ‘tis not like Rosalind to disappear this way. I am frightened, Grace.”

“Fret not. Marian and I shall search for the lass. Do not go getting yourself all upset now. I am certain Mistress Rosalind is just fine. Perhaps she just became so involved in some chore, she simply lost track of the hour.”

“Go, then, and search for her,” Abigail said. “Leave no stone unturned!” She watched Grace leave her chamber, then said a silent prayer for Rosalind’s safe return. Never had Abigail felt such a deep sense of foreboding. If indeed Shadow had snapped in the manner Grace had described, there was no doubt in her mind that Rosalind was in grave danger.

* * * * *

The frigid water numbed Rosalind’s feet, and more than once, she nearly lost her footing on the slippery rocks as she silently followed Shadow through the stream.  He had decided they should walk in the water to conceal their tracks, and Rosalind had not argued, but she found herself wishing the stream were much warmer.

As the morning progressed, the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds, adding a sparkle to the water as it rippled over its rocky, winding course.

The silence of their journey provided Rosalind with ample time to reflect upon all that had occurred during the last twenty-four hours. She knew she should be feeling guilty for deserting Abigail and for making the Corwins, she was certain, worry needlessly about her, but all she felt at the moment was a sense of relief, of freedom. She was surrounded by trees, water and bright blue skies, and in front of her was the most kind-hearted, caring…and handsome…man she had ever met. She still feared Shadow, not because he had ever given her reason to, but because of her past nightmarish encounter with the savage in the snow. Also, her brother had told her lurid tales about savages and the ways in which they treated the white women they captured – beating them while having their way with them, even carving symbols into their skin to forever mark them – but she did not know how much was true and how much was just Ben’s wild exaggerations. Nevertheless, her brother’s words had crossed her mind more than once during her journey.

Shadow still affected Rosalind in ways she could not comprehend. One of the benefits of walking behind him in the stream was it afforded her the opportunity to liberally survey his form without him knowing she was doing so. Shadow wore no shirt, and even though the blanket and pillow-coate sack were casually thrown over his shoulder, an ample portion of his back and waist still were visible. His leather breeches clung to his narrow hips and muscular thighs, and his long, ebony hair gleamed in the sunlight. Rosalind longed to put her arms around him and rest her head on his chest again, the way she had the night before. She felt the heat creep up her neck and into her cheeks as she scolded herself for thinking such thoughts. She knew if Shadow were able to read them, he likely would laugh at her. To him she probably was naught but some silly, helpless white woman who had managed to make a ruin of her life – someone to be pitied.