Twin Willows: A Novel (9 page)

She never once doubted that her father had truly loved Silverwillow, or that her mother was every bit as beautiful as he described her.

Since leaving Philadelphia, Anna had worn the necklace her father sent her under her bodice, near her heart. Now, thinking of him, she drew it out and fingered the delicate chain, seeking comfort from this reminder of her father.

“They’re still mostly Shawnee,” James said when he saw Anna staring intently at the group of Indians. “Except on market day, they pretty much keep to themselves.”

“I’m sure that suits everyone around here just fine,” Anna said.

“Yes, it does. That hasn’t changed since you went away.”

Anna untied the pocket around her waist and produced her letters. “I need to post these.”

“Have you any hard money? The post hardly ever barters its fees.”

Anna smiled faintly. “I have no barter, but I’ve still got a few bits left from my travel money.”

James pointed to Anna’s neck. “That gold necklace would fetch a great deal, in cash or barter either. I don’t recall seein’ it before.”

Anna stroked it lightly “My father sent it to me for a graduation gift. It’s worth far more than gold to me—I’d never willingly part with it.”

“Then you’d best not show it around here,” James advised. “There’s a bad lot of men around the market these days. One of them might just try to relieve you of it.”

Anna tucked the chain inside her bodice without question. “I understand. Is the post still in Tom Gray’s tavern?”

“Yes. I’ll walk along with you—I have business with his son.”

Anna paid for her letters to be posted, then went back to the market for a while before she returned to the livery stable where they had agreed to meet. At the door, Anna heard her name being called and looked back to see Helen Barfield coming toward her, holding her wailing baby.

“Where on earth have you been?” Helen asked, obviously irritated. “I’ve been lookin’ high and low for you for the last quarter hour.”

“I was walking through the market,” Anna replied.

Helen spoke quickly, all but shouting over her child’s cries. “Silas Duward wants to see you—he’s probably one of richest men in these parts. After his wife died last year, he brought his family out here and took up the Elliotts’ old tract. He’s been lookin’ for someone to teach his five young ones ever since. He’s agreed to talk to you about it.”

Helen must really want to get rid of me to go to this much trouble
, Anna thought.

“What makes you think I’d be interested in doing that?” she asked.

A strange look came over Helen’s face. “Seems to me like you don’t have much choice, missy. That fancy school oughter at least given you a way to make a livin’ for yourself.”

“I’m sure that my father intends to provide for me,” Anna said stiffly.

“Then let him do it, but in the meantime you’re gettin’ your bread an’ board from us for free. I’d think you’d at least want to pay your way.”

Anna felt her anger rising , but decided not to speak her mind. “Where is this man?”

Helen shifted the baby from one hip to the other, momentarily quieting him. “Master Duward’s at Tom Gray’s tavern. Hurry—don’t keep the man waitin’ any longer.”

Anna stood motionless for a moment, considering what she should do. Although it galled her that Helen Barfield had taken it on herself to find her a position, Anna knew she’d be foolish to cut off her own nose to spite her face. She would hear the man out. If Mr. Duward had a place for Anna, it would not only serve to get her out of a house where she wasn’t wanted, but might also allow her to acquire enough money to pay her way elsewhere.

All right, I’ll talk to him
, Anna decided, and for the second time that day she made her way to Tom Gray’s tavern.

The interior of the building was so poorly lighted that Anna had to go all the way inside and wait for her eyes to adjust the smoky dimness before she could make out the shadowy figures seated around the rough-hewn plank tables. When a male voice called her name, she turned and saw a dark-haired, middle-aged man an inch or so shorter than herself.

“Miss McKnight? I’m Silas Duward. Your cousin said you might be interested in teaching my children.”

“Perhaps,” Anna replied.

“We can discuss the matter outside.”

Anna blinked in the daylight and tried not to stare at Mr. Duward’s pockmarked face. His clothes were obviously made from expensive material, but he did not wear them well. His waistcoat gapped over his ample stomach, and his carelessly knotted stock revealed that he’d probably dressed in haste when Helen Barfield summoned him to meet her.

Mr. Duward stopped a few paces from the tavern and abruptly reached out to pull off the white mobcap covering Anna’s hair.

Anna gasped, too surprised to protest.

“Your skin is dark, and you’ve the hair and eyes to match it,” he said. “You don’t look much like any of the Barfields, either. How do you come to be related to them, Mistress McKnight?”

“We are first cousins,” Anna said with as much civility as she could muster. “My father and their mother were brother and sister.”

Silas Duward folded his arms across his chest and riveted her with his gaze. “What about your mother? From the looks of it, I’d wager your dam’s no white woman.”

Anna held her chin a little higher and looked down on him. “My mother was a Delaware, Mr. Duward. She died at my birth.”

Mr. Duward unfolded his arms and thrust Anna’s cap into her right hand. “Mistress Barfield neglected to tell me that.”

“Does my Indian blood concern you?” Although the answer was already obvious, Anna felt the need to make him admit it.

Silas Duward’s face darkened. “My children will never be taught by a savage, Miss McKnight. We have nothing further to discuss. Good day.”

He turned to walk away, but Anna held the sleeve of his frock coat, forcing him turn back and face her again.

“Look at me, sir. Do I really appear so savage that you would deny your children access to the knowledge I could pass on to them?”

Mr. Duward pursed his lips, then jerked his sleeve away from her and brushed the fabric as if her touch had soiled it. “Perhaps Mrs. Barfield neglected to tell you that my children have no mother because raiding savages scalped her and left her dying on our door-stone. They’d have done the same to the children, had they not hidden themselves as they’d been taught to do. Since then, they’ve been in perfect terror of all Indians.”

“I can understand how you feel, sir, but surely if the children and I could just meet—”

“They’ll stay ignorant of all but what I can teach them before I’d subject them to the likes of you. Good day, miss.”

As Silas Duward strode away, Anna shook her head at the man’s blind prejudice and wondered what Stuart Martin would say to him.

Oh, Stuart, if only you were here
, Anna thought forlornly. Slowly she walked back to the livery stable, not eager to deliver her bad news.

The next day, Helen Barfield’s sour mood encouraged Anna to stay out of her way. Telling Helen that she was going for walk, Anna crossed the creek that had divided the McKnight and Barfield land. Through a path that had all but grown over, she reached the cabin, abandoned many years past, where her father and Aunt Agnes had lived as children. Its roof sagged and its rock chimneys were crumbling, but the cabin still stood on a rise in the middle of the land that Agnes had brought to William Barfield as her dower. The old cabin was crude compared to the Barfield house, yet in her childhood it had offered her peace and a place of refuge from her cousins. Anna always liked to pretend that the cabin belonged to her, even though she knew better.

This day, Anna looked at the cabin with a critical eye. A few basic repairs would make it habitable, she decided. She’d ask Henry about fixing it up for her to live in. He and James might grumble about doing the work, but Anna suspected that for once Helen would be her ally in the matter.

Her inspection completed, Anna sat sideways on the doorstone and leaned back against the still-sturdy doorframe. She had brought along the book that Stuart Martin had given her, not so much to read as to have a tangible reminder of him. She traced the lettering on the cover with her forefinger and pictured Stuart in her mind’s eye. At first, she had almost been afraid of him. Now she could scarcely believe how bold her love for Stuart Martin had made her become.

Does he think of me as often as I think of him
? Anna wondered. With the slowness of the post, it would probably be at least another week before her letter would reach him, and an equal or longer amount of time before she could expect a reply. At any rate, letters were a poor substitute for the manner in which she wanted to express her feelings to Stuart. She would much rather feel his arms around her and hear again his whispered pledge of love, which she would answer. Then, without interruptions or postponements, their love could truly be consummated.

Anna stroked the cover of Stuart’s book and remembered when he gave it to her on Christmas Day, the same day he kissed her for the first time. She pressed her fingertips to her lips and sighed.

“Oh, Stuart, how I wish you were here,” she murmured.

“I thought I might find you over here.”

Anna looked up, startled to see James standing only a few feet away. She didn’t like to think that he had been watching her; perhaps he had even heard her speak Stuart’s name. Hastily she pulled at her skirts and stood. “Am I wanted in the house?”

“No, no—sit down. Do you mind if I stay here awhile?”

Anna shrugged. “If you like.”

In response to Anna’s somewhat grudging tone, James opened his arms wide, as if to show that he had no hidden weapons. “See? I’m not carryin’ any pine cones”

“Ah, yes, I recall that you and Henry often pelted me with them when I came to the cabin, knowing Aunt Agnes couldn’t see what you were up to.”

James sat down beside Anna. “I reckon we weren’t very nice to you in those days,” he said.

What do you mean, ‘in those days’? Since when have the Barfields ever gone out of their way to be nice to me
? Anna forced herself not to voice the words.

“You weren’t,” she agreed.

“We might’ve acted pretty bad sometimes, all right, but a lot of it was due to bein’ jealous.”

Anna stared at James in surprise. “You and Henry jealous of me! You must be joking.”

“No, I’m not. Look at it this way—bein’ as you’re younger and a girl, we both thought that Momma favored you over us. I guess it sort of stuck in our craws.”

“At least you admit it,” Anna said. “I don’t think Henry would.”

James idly picked at splinters in the doorframe. “I know you’ve not been happy since you got back, Anna. What would it please you to do?”

Marry Stuart Martin
, she thought immediately, but James had no power to grant that wish, in any case.

Anna thought for a moment. “If I had the money for passage, I’d go to Kentucky and ask Father to take me to the place where my mother lived. He promised to, but then the war came along, and now he can’t leave his claim.”

James looked oddly at Anna and took one of her hands in both of his. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll take you there.”

Once more, James had surprised Anna, and she said the first thing that came into her head. “I didn’t know you had any money.”

“Momma left me a stake—not much, but enough to get us to Kentucky.”

Anna’s mind whirled. Going to Kentucky appealed to her, but doing so with James did not. “’Tis a long, hard trip, I’m told. If you’d just give me loan of the passage money—”

“No!” he exclaimed, then his face reddened. “You don’t understand, Anna. I’m thinkin’ you an’ me—we’d—we could get married first.”

Anna’s mouth fell open in amazement, and it took a moment for her to recover enough to speak.

“Married? You and me?”

James released Anna’s hand and leaned back against the doorframe. “Is the thought so bad as all of that? You’d think I’d said I intended to burn you at the stake.”

“I’m sorry, James—I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but you must know that I never thought of you in that way. We’re too close kin.”

“’Tis not against the law,” James said. “I know a dozen families where first cousins have married—”

“Other families aren’t my concern,” Anna said quickly. “I appreciate the way you’ve treated me since I came back, but we’re much too near the same branch on the McKnight family tree to wed.”

James pulled the corners of his mouth tight and made a gesture that took in the cabin and the area around it. “You can’t fool me, Anna Willow. I know you’re worried about this land, but I swear that it’ll always be yours if you marry me.”

Anna stood and tucked Stuart’s book under her arm, then addressed James in a firm voice. “I’m going to the house now, and there will be no mention of what has passed between us.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, her mind busy. What had really possessed James to propose marriage to her? And what did he mean about seeing to it that she’d never lose the land?

My cousins must know something about my father’s old property that they haven’t told me
, Anna thought to herself. “I must get to the bottom of this,” she said aloud.

When a noisy, mocking blue jay answered her, Anna laughed and threw a pine cone in its direction. Then she quickened her step. If she hurried, she’d have time to confront Henry before James came back home.

Anna found Henry in the barn, sitting on an upturned keg as he used an awl to repair some bridle tack.

“Henry, I must speak with you.”

He put down the awl and regarded Anna without curiosity. “About what? If you and Helen have had a fuss, I don’t want to hear of it.”

“No, it’s not about Helen. It’s about Aunt Agnes.”

Henry frowned. “What about her?”

Anna forced herself to speak with more authority than she felt. “Why didn’t you write my father that she had died? And why didn’t you tell me the terms of her will?”

The color in Henry’s face deepened. “Why do you bring up the subject now? ’Tis a long time now since my poor mother was laid to her rest.”