Winter Love Part 15

"Oh, yes, O'Hara's a very obliging fellow," Fletch said.

Taylor heard the sarcasm in Fletch's tone and, frowning at him, said, "I thought you and Hunter had made it up since your fight. You sound like you're ready to fight him again. Have you had words?"

You don't know how badly I want to fight him again, Pa, Fletch thought, a nerve jerking in his jaw. I'd like to tear him apart. But what he said was, "No, we haven't had words. Sometimes he just rubs me the wrong way."

Taylor's eyes twinkled. "I imagine sometimes you do the same thing to him. You two remind me of two bull moose, each afraid the other is going to move in on his territory."

Fletch gave his father a narrowed look, wondering what he meant by that. He didn't ask him, though, as he picked up the tray and went back into the store. He idled about a bit, swearing that he would not watch out of the window to see if Laura went to Bertha's this Thursday.

But no matter how hard he tried not to, his eyes kept straying toward the window. His hands clenched into fists when in about 15 minutes the cabin door opened and Laura stepped out onto the porch. A bundled-up Jolie was clasped to her breast. He waited a few minutes, then, knowing that he was chancing a blow to his heart but unable to help himself, he went into the tavern and stood at the window that gave him a view of the pleasure house.

He hadn't long to wait before Hunter approached the building. When Bertha opened the door to the Southerner, Fletch wheeled around, his face stony, not answering Elisha when the old man said, "I'm gonna need more whiskey, Fletch."

Bertha had coffee and cookies waiting for Laura and Hunter. The big woman was mystified about the relationship between the pair. They were very fond of each other, there was no doubt about that. But they never asked to be alone together. They seemed content to sit at her table and visit with her.

And that was the poser. Every single man, and many married ones, would almost sell his soul to the devil to make love to Laura Thomas, and the single girls were crazy about Hunter O'Hara. Yet neither seemed eager to get into bed together.

Bertha decided that today she was going to invent some excuse to leave the pair alone together. She would give them the opportunity to use one of her rooms without having to ask, if that was their problem.

Laura and Hunter had been in her kitchen about 20 minutes, she holding Jolie, when Bertha asked, "Is it all right if I take the little one into the parlor so the girls can play with her awhile? I'll stay and keep an eye on her."

"Of course." Laura smiled. "The little scamp loves being made a fuss over."

When the madam left the kitchen, a chortling Jolie grabbing at her frizzed hair, Laura looked at Hunter with an amused grin. "She thinks we want to be alone."

Hunter nodded, his eyes twinkling. Then looking soberly at Laura he said, "Laura, you must have wondered why I haven't tried to make our friendship into something more serious."

"Not really, Hunter. But since you've brought it up, why haven't you?"

Hunter hesitated a minute, fingering the scar on his cheek. Then he said, "Do you recall me telling you I got this in the war and that I have other scars?" Laura nodded, and he went on. "The other scar that I carry robbed me of my manhood. There will never be a wife and children for me."

Shocked, Laura could only stare at Hunter, the misery in his eyes. Then making a sound of sympathy, she stood up and rounded the table to press his head against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I am so sorry, my dear friend," she whispered.

Hunter put his arms around her waist and they stayed that way for several seconds, tears in both their eyes.

"Don't feel bad for me, Laura," Hunter said, dropping his arms from around her. "I've gotten used to it. It was h.e.l.l at first. I only felt like half a man. Then an old wise Indian pointed out to me that the thing that hung between a man's legs didn't necessarily make him a man. It was what he carried inside him."

"He was so right, Hunter." Laura returned to her chair. "I have never known any man who was more manly than you."

The subject was dropped, and they talked of Taylor's birthday coming up nest week and the party Laura planned for him. When Bertha returned an hour later, she found them where she had left them, having a second cup of coffee and debating whether Taylor's party should be a surprise or not.

Laura and Hunter winked at each other, seeing the disappointment on the painted face.

Pushing back her frustration, Bertha handed the baby to Laura and poured herself a cup of coffee. The three sat around discussing the Morse family, wondering how they were getting on. "Much better, I'd think, with that lazy-a.s.s George out of their lives," Bertha said.

Hunter agreed. "They do look happier these days. That pinched, hungry look is gone from their faces."

"And what a change in Agnes," Laura said, "you can tell that she was once a very attractive woman."

Bertha agreed and added, "And she will be again once she gains Some weight."

"I don't suppose she'll ever marry again. There's not many men who would want to take on her brood and raise them," Laura said.

Bertha gazed thoughtfully into her coffee. "I doubt that Agnes would want to ever marry again. She told me emphatically that she would never again share a bed with a man. Being married to George cured her of ever wanting another man in a biblical sense, not even if he was an angel sent down from heaven." Later, when Laura had said good-bye and was walking home, she still had Agnes on her mind.

What if Agnes and Hunter got together? They were around the same age. Agnes had no use for men, in her bed at least, and poor Hunter wouldn't want or need that part of a relationship. He loved children and would have a ready-made family. Also, having a wife, he would appear like every other man in the village.

She would throw the two together every chance she got, Laura continued to daydream. Agnes must come to Pa's birthday party. Maida would be happy to lend her one of her new dresses, and Agnes had beautiful thick hair if taken out of the tight knot she kept it in.

Her face glowed with the thought of playing Cupid.

Chapter Fifteen.

As Laura visited with the Morse family, she urged for the third time, "Please come to Taylor's birthday party, Agnes. You and your children will be the only family who won't be there."

"But, Laura, you know I've never attended any of the affairs in the village," Agnes reminded her. "I know that, and it's high time that you did. You would be more than welcome at any get-together."

Agnes looked down at her worn but neat dress. "Anyhow, I haven't got anything nice to wear." She looked up at Laura. "I'll send Mary and Jebbie. They've never been to a party before and will look forward to it. Thanks to the neighbors, they can get dressed up pretty good."

"And so can you. Maida would be pleased to loan you one of her dresses. She's never been to a party before and she's real excited about finally attending one."

"I don't know, Laura," Agnes said, weakening. "It's been so long since I've been with a group of people. I don't know if I can remember how to act."

"You'll act just fine, don't worry about it, just be your own sweet self."

"Do you really think the women will talk to me?"

"Of course they will," Laura answered, then gave a little derisive laugh. "I'm the one they won't talk to. They look on me as a fallen woman, you know."

"I've heard that mean gossip and I think it's a shame, all because your little one has blond hair. Three of my children were born with blond hair, and G.o.d knows I never lay with any man other than George. I wouldn't have had the strength nor the opportunity to do so. It could be that either you or Taylor had white-haired relatives some generations back. It just came out in Jolie."

"Me and Ma will talk to you, Laura," young Mary said from her seat beside the fireplace. "Won't we, Ma?"

"We certainly will." Agnes's eyes snapped angrily. "I don't know how some folks can be so mean. I know they've been good to me and my children, but I can't help holding it against them, talking about you the way they do."

Laura shrugged a slim shoulder. "I don't let it bother me anymore. It used to hurt at first. I've known those women all my life. But I have Justine and Maida, and now you, for friends." Her lips tilted in a grin. "And I mustn't forget Big Bertha."

"All those gossipers are going to be sorry the way they've treated you someday. You just wait and see," Agnes said with conviction. "As your little one grows older she's going to start looking like a Thomas. Either her hair will darken or her features will take on the look of Taylor. It never fails. The truth most always comes out. I've seen it happen with my own children."

"Do you really think so, Agnes?" Laura asked eagerly. "I know so."

A few minutes later Laura left the small two-room cabin that was now snug and warm. Some of the village men had spent a day re caulking between the logs and cutting wood. Agnes now had enough wood to last her through the winter, plus enough money to provide food for the family. Any time she needed something from the store, Fletch took the cost from the big pickle jar. Come spring, rested and strong again, Agnes and her children would put in crops and be able to support themselves.

Laura was so deep in thought she almost forgot to stop at the store and collect Jolie. "You've been gone long enough." Fletch glowered at her when she stepped inside. "I can't believe you've spent all this time with Agnes Morse. Are you stringing a new man along now?"

"Yes, I am." An impish devil glittered in Laura's eyes. "He's a trapper friend of yours. I really like him. I may hold on to him for a while."

Rage darkened Fletch's face so much that Laura took a step back, sure that this time he would strike her. But he made no move toward her. His eyes icy bleak, he said, "You've turned into quite a s.l.u.t, haven't you?" When Laura merely shrugged, he grated out, "Take your b.a.s.t.a.r.d and get out of my sight."

Laura gasped from the pain Fletch's words caused her. In all his name-calling he had never attacked Jolie before. Tears sprang into her eyes as she picked the baby up out of her basket.

She was halfway to the door when Fletch came after her, saying thickly, "I'm sorry, Laura, I didn't mean that about Jolie. I care deeply for her, you know that."

Laura stared up at him, mockery glittering in her tear-wet eyes. "But underneath that deep caring you look upon her as a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Your anger let it slip out."

"That's not true. I admit that anger made me say it, but I have never, ever thought of the little one that way."

"Hah!" Laura snorted sharply and slammed out the door, leaving Fletch standing there, utter defeat on his face. Laura would hate him until the day she died, he thought.

Laura wiped her eyes as she approached the cabin and saw a young Indian waiting for her on the porch. He was hunkered down beside Brave, rubbing his head and talking to him. When she stepped up on the porch, the boy jumped to his feet. She vaguely remembered seeing him in the Indian village.

She smiled at him and he said, "I am Chief Muga's grandson. He has sent me to give you this." He handed her a small, flat package. Laura thanked him and took the package. "Please come inside while I lay my daughter down. I don't want her to catch cold." The teenager hesitated a moment, then, having always wondered what the white man's cabins looked like inside, nodded and followed her. "Have a seat." Laura motioned toward the rocking chair. "I'll just be a minute."

The boy's black, curious eyes scanned the room, taking in the furnishings, the pictures on the walls, the clock whose ticking fascinated him, the bright woven rugs on the floor. He relaxed after a moment and sat back in the chair. His movement set the chair to rocking, and, startled, he began to jump to his feet. Then he discovered that it wasn't going to spill him to the floor, and he moved it to make it rock again.

When Laura returned a minute later he had the chair rocking madly, a wide smile on his face. He's going to tip it over, Laura thought with concern and hurried to say, "Come sit at the table and have some cookies and milk."

When Laura poured the milk and placed a plate of the sugar delicacies before the lad, he eyed the sweets curiously. "Taste one, you'll like it," Laura urged.

The young Indian picked up one of the round, flat sweets and cautiously bit into it. He chewed and swallowed; then a grin spread across his face. "Good," he said and reached for another one.

"You're Red Fox's son, aren't you?" Laura asked, recognizing the smile as similar to that of Fletch's Indian friend.

"Yes. I am called Little Fox," Laura was answered proudly. "I am my parents' firstborn. It was my father's face that I saw when I opened my eyes."

Laura picked up the package from Little Fox's grandfather and opened the square of tanned animal skin. Her eyes widened at the beautiful necklace that lay there. A large piece of turquoise was framed in beaten silver and hung from a leather thong. In its center was carved an Indian symbol. As she rubbed a finger over it, Little Fox explained, "It is a sign that if any of our tribe see this around your neck, they will never harm you. There might come a time when they will help you if you need it."

"Please tell your grandfather that I will treasure his gift. I will wear it every time I leave the vicinity of the village."

"He will be pleased to hear that," Little Fox said, reaching for yet another cookie.

The teenager proved to be quite a talker. He spoke of his family, and until the cookie plate was empty, he boasted of hunting trips he had gone on. When he finally rose to leave, Laura invited, "Come visit me anytime. I bake cookies almost every day."

When Little Fox closed the door behind him, Laura took Chief Muga's gift into her bedroom and laid it in a small cedar chest that Fletch had made for her on her fourteenth birthday. It joined a string of beads, a pair of earbobs, and a brooch. Items precious to her. They had belonged to mother Marie.

Closing the lid on the fragrant cedar, she went back to the kitchen and started preparing supper. Fletch would arrive within the next hour to pick up Taylor's evening meal, and she wanted to be sure the basket was outside waiting for him. She wished that she need never again see or talk with him. Insulting her baby had been the last straw.

As she peeled potatoes and carrots to add to the beef stew, Laura knew it was impossible not to see Fletch again, but she wouldn't have to talk to him. She had to visit Pa at least every other day or he would want to know why she was staying away. If she told him why, Lord knew what he might say to Fletch in anger. That she wanted to avoid at all costs.

Stars shone coldly in the sky as Laura hurried toward the Morse cabin. She was late. Big Bertha had come to take care of Jolie while Laura attended Taylor's birthday party, and she had lingered too long visiting with the madam.

As she stepped up on the sagging porch, a glance through the window showed the Morses waiting for her. "I could never bring myself to face all the neighbors alone," Agnes had said a couple days ago. It had been agreed then that the family would walk into the tavern with Laura.

When Laura stepped into the room crowded with children and they all greeted her excitedly, she thought what a difference a short time had made in them. They had lost their s.h.a.ggy appearance, and the hungry look was gone from their eyes. Their faces had been scrubbed shiny clean, and the boys all wore trimmed hair. The donated clothes they wore had been neatly ironed.

The biggest change was in Agnes. The attractiveness that had once been hers was slowly returning. Her new hairstyle softened the thinness of her features and brought to attention her soft, magnificent brown eyes. The beaten look in them was almost gone.

Taylor's birthday party had already begun when Laura and the Morses arrived. A dance set had just finished when they stepped inside, and the cold air that rushed in behind them brought everyone's eyes swinging their way. The women, smiles on their faces, came forward to welcome Agnes, elbowing Laura out of the way.

Two men saw that happen and neither one liked it. It pained Fletch to see her ostracized by her onetime friends. He started to step forward, to buffer their harsh treatment of Laura, then stopped. Hunter O'Hara was making his way to her, his lips curved in a wide smile. Fletch turned away when Laura smiled back at Hunter.

The three musicians struck up another tune, but when Hunter would have swung her out onto the floor, Laura hung back. "I must speak to P... Taylor first. Wish him a happy birthday."

She had decided not to surprise Taylor with the celebration, but to give him warning so that he could spruce himself up a bit. Which he had done, she had noticed earlier as he talked to the friends and neighbors who had gathered around him. He had managed to get his splinted leg into a new pair of trousers and pull on his favorite blue flannel shirt.

He doesn't look sixty, she thought, or act like it. He still had the muscle tone of a man much younger and had all his hair, although it was mostly gray now. And she mustn't forget b.u.t.terfly. He still had a love life.

It's too bad, Laura thought as she and Hunter approached Taylor, that b.u.t.terfly isn't by his side tonight. "Happy birthday, Taylor." Laura placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, daughter," Taylor said, drawing many curious looks. Unaware that he had erred, he shook hands with Hunter when the bartender offered his best wishes. They chatted awhile; then Hunter noted that three men were waiting for drinks at the bar.

He took Laura's arm and escorted her across the room where Maida made room for her on the bench. "Remember, the next dance is mine," he said to Laura, then returned to the bar and began dispensing drinks to the thirsty men. They had complained at first about being served only hard cider, then had grumblingly agreed it was only proper that nothing stronger was being served with a lot of children running around.

Justine and Tommy came over to sit with Maida and Laura, and after a while Agnes managed to get away from those who had snubbed her friend and joined the small group of Laura's supporters. In a short time Daniel appeared with a tray of sweet cider which had been provided for the women. Soon they had their own private little party going. Their laughter at some joke would ring out, making the young single women look at them with envy as they were kept at their mothers' sides.

Sometimes Agnes's laughter pealed out louder than the others'. Her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes made the older bachelors watch her with interest. But when the music started up again and the men approached her, asking her to dance, she refused.

"Why don't you dance with them, Agnes?" Laura asked. "They're all nice, decent men."

Agnes shivered. "I don't think I'll ever be able to get that close to a man again, Laura."

"If Hunter O'Hara asks you to dance, please oblige him. You will have no aversion to him. He's the kindest, gentlest man you could ever meet."

Agnes hesitated for several seconds before answering, "If he asks me, I'll try, just to please you, Laura."

A minute later Hunter was pulling Laura to her feet, swinging her among the other dancers who had taken to the floor. As they circled around, dodging stamping feet and whirling bodies, they smiled and talked and laughed. The watching women raised their eyebrows and made remarks behind their hands.

Nearing the end of a waltz, Laura looked up at Hunter and asked, "Will you ask Agnes to dance the next set?"

"But she turned down the other men."

"I don't think she'll refuse you." Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "I told her what a grand fellow you are and that you wouldn't step on her feet."

Hunter threw back his head and laughed. "I'm convinced that you've got Irish in you." He gave her a tight, affectionate hug that didn't go unnoticed by Fletch, who had seldom taken his eyes off Laura since she arrived.