1757

Cora let out a breath of air she'd scarcely realized she'd been holding, and leaned back against the closed door of the cabin, while Alice collapsed on the rough floor.

"It's all right," she said, in little more than a whisper. "It's going to be all right. They will have to help us. He is British."

Alice did not say anything immediately but when she did, she raised dubious eyes to her older sister. "He looked just as savage as that other one. He was wearing their...their clothes."

"At least we have shelter now, Alice. And the Indian didn't harm us." She spotted the fire that Nathaniel had promised on one end of the small cabin, and headed for it eagerly. "Come, let's get dry. My skirts are still damp from yesterday."

"Mine too." Alice pulled herself up, wrestled off her shoes and limped over to the fire. They sank beside it and just basked in its warmth for a few minutes. There was something immensely comforting about fire. Looking into its depths, Cora longed for a cup of hot tea. Though she didn't want to move any more, she also wanted a chance at least to wash her face before the two men came in, as they assuredly would.

Summoning up energy from some hidden source, she rose again, found the basin on a washstand, scrubbed her face and hands, and used the old pitcher to pour new water for Alice to do the same. Still there was their hair, long since down and hanging around their shoulders as it had not done since they were children. There was no way to fix this, however, and she settled for finger-brushing Alice's straight locks, and tying them back with a small strip of cloth torn from the bottom of her already ragged dress. Alice did the same for her, and they regarded each other. Alice was the first to burst into a nervous fit of giggles. "You look like a heathen."

"So do you. What happened to your cap?"

"I think I lost it in the river." Alice pressed a hand over her mouth, horrified at the slightly maniacal tone to her laughter.

Cora gazed at her sister for a moment. "Duncan."

Alice's smile faded. "Cora..."

"He's gone. I know."

"I'm so sorry, Cora." Alice's lip twisted in mournful sympathy. "I wish..."

The door to the cabin opened abruptly and Nathaniel stood there, a forceful presence framed as he was by the white daylight behind him. He looked at Cora and she, looking back at him, saw for just a moment the man he might have looked like had he grown up in England, but then she blinked and the moment passed. He was a frontier man, claiming Indian kin, living as wild a life as any of those people did. She knew nothing about him. Though she had minutes ago assured Alice that they would be helped, she was not herself convinced that this man wanted to give them assistance.

She straightened unconsciously, and without quite realizing that she was doing it, stepped partially in front of her younger sister, whom she knew she had to appear strong for. Nathaniel's lip quirked in the beginnings of a smile.

He must think we look ridiculous, not like any decent Englishwomen, but let him laugh if he will. We have just survived a terrible encounter. If he dares to say something...

But Nathaniel only said, and quite courteously, "You must be hungry. And thirsty? I'll wager Uncas didn't have any decent provisions on him when he found you. I'll make you some tea."

"Tea would be wonderful," Cora said, feeling the stiffness melt out of her spine at the suggestion. She watched with eager eyes as Nathaniel rummaged around in what seemed to be a tiny adjoining kitchen, and thereafter prepared some water in a tin kettle to steam over the fire. He went outdoors and came back in with a handful of leaves, which he threw in the kettle, and presently a wonderful smell began to permeate the cabin.

While the tea was brewing, Nathaniel produced some yams from a pot that rested on the hearth, keeping warm, and gave a couple apiece to Cora and Alice. He did not bother with plates or utensils, but as with their dinner of the night before, neither girl had any qualms about taking the food and quickly downed these offerings. The tea, when it came, was bitter and murky and had bits of leaves swirling around the bottom of the cup, but they drank it gratefully too. Cora was just swallowing her last mouthful of golden yam when the cabin door in and Uncas came in, his arrival rather sheepish and hesitant in comparison to Nathaniel's uncompromising entrance of some minutes before.

The brothers exchanged a look and Uncas said something in Mohegan, to which Nathaniel grunted. There was a moment of awkward silence and then Nathaniel said, "He needs to get some sleep."

"Oh. Of course." Cora looked chagrined at Alice. Of course he did, he had been standing guard over them all night. Even Alice had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "Should we go out?" She had no desire to leave the warm fireside.

"No," Uncas said. "It's fine." In the opposite corner, he pulled down a dried deerskin, one of many that was hung over a rack against the wall, laid it down on the floor, and with no further ceremony, laid down on it, ignoring the rest of them. Within moments, his breathing was gentle and even.

Nathaniel looked amused. "He won't sleep for long."

Neither Cora nor Alice could imagine anyone choosing to sleep on the floor, but it did not seem as though they owned beds, and Uncas did look, oddly, comfortable. For a moment they both watched him, fascinated, then Cora said "Alice," sharply, and tore her own eyes away. She forced herself to speak to Nathaniel. "If you tell me where to get it from, I can make myself more tea."

"I'll show you." Nathaniel started for the door, evidently expecting her to follow. When she glanced back at Alice for a moment, her little sister uttered a mute "Stay," with her eyes. Cora looked back at Nathaniel, whose own gaze clearly, unequivocally read that he thought she would have to leave her sooner or later and now was the perfect time.

"We'll just be outside, Alice." She followed Nathaniel through the door, pulling it shut behind her. After all, Uncas was sleeping, and she did want a few moments of conversation with this frontier man, to have a private chance to be able to assess his character and judgement without any other distractions.

Outside, Nathaniel led her to a straggling garden plot off to the side of the cabin, sheltered on the other side from wind by a small group of shrubs. It was not very big. Cora's expression must have registered this, because Nathaniel said, "We're not really farmers." But he did not sound apologetic. Reaching down to pull away some vines and creepers, he plucked a handful of leaves from a row of dark flowering plants. "This is the tea. It's stronger if it's been dried first, but it doesn't have to be." He turned, holding out his hands for her to take it.

"Nathaniel--as I don't know your last name, may I address you so?" Cora accepted the leaves.

"Of course." He crouched down by the garden and began pulling away some of the overgrowth. Cora took this opportunity to size him up more closely. He was tall, leaner than his Indian brother, with a sharp nose and high forehead. He looked very wild. She wondered just how, if at all, familiar he was with English customs. He looked to have lived out here in the forest his entire life. She wanted to know the story behind that, but did not think it was likely he would be volunteering it any time soon, and she could scarcely ask.

She was startled when he suddenly looked back up, bearing the force of those oddly blue, uncompromising eyes on her. "So. Miss Munro."

"Cora, please. If I'm to call you Nathaniel."

He ignored this and went on, "Tell me more about your situation. What party were you with? Where were you going, who were your guides?"

She found herself strangely unprepared for the question and had to think for a moment before replying. "We were on our way to Fort Oswego, where our father is currently stationed. We were traveling under the protection of Major Duncan Hayward, of his Majesty's army. Yesterday afternoon our party of ten was ambushed."

"Your father sent for you?"

"That is correct."

Nathaniel plucked off a dead bean from the plant bearing it and crushed it thoughtfully between thumb and finger. "Oswego is under French attack at the moment. Why would he want you to be in the middle of such a situation?"

"I was not aware it was under attack." Cora heard her voice trembling and took a deep breath which she hoped would be calming.

Nathaniel looked back at her again. "What happened to Hayward?"

"I must assume he fell with the rest of them. They came upon us quite...suddenly. We were unprepared."

Nathaniel grunted. Whether this was intended to be sympathetic or a mere indication of understanding Cora could not tell. She was staring at the trees beyond him in a vain attempt at focusing her emotions.

"I don't suppose you noticed anything about your attackers."

"What do you mean?"

"Iroquois, Huron, Mohawk..."

"They were half-naked and screaming like madmen." Cora glared at him. "I do not know how long you have been away from England, but we women are not in the custom of studying the quirks and identifying characteristics of indigenous tribes of the Americas."

"Right," Nathaniel said wearily, choosing to ignore her unspoken question about his being here. "Better to worry your heads over what color of ribbon would be best to trim your caps with."

"That is unfair. I think of nothing, nor do I want for anything but the safety of myself and my sister." She turned away, trembling with anger, partly because there was some truth to what Nathaniel said, but honestly, did he really think she would be able to tell the difference between one savage or another?

"Wait." Nathaniel stood up, brushing soil off his knees. "You should know that it's very odd you managed to get away. Whoever was responsible, they're all good trackers and none of them fools. Which means there's a reason you weren't followed. It's my belief that taking you to the fort at this point would be a mistake."

"But there is nowhere else to go." Cora felt the leaves dampening and curling in her hands, which were beginning to sweat in the sun.

"There's always somewhere to go," Nathaniel replied cryptically. "But Uncas thinks we should go to the fort and that we can get you there safely. It's up to you."

"I just need for Alice to be safe. I'm not worried about myself." She faced him defiantly lest he sneer at these rather martyrical words. It was the truth, after all, even if he thought she was being ridiculous. But his expression was unreadable.

"How old is she, fifteen?"

"Sixteen this coming winter. She's still a child."

"You can't be much older than that."

She flushed. "I'm no child, sir, I've been nineteen since the spring."

"Hm. Same as my little brother."

"May I ask how old you are?"

"Soon be twenty-one." He smiled, having established his seniority, but then turned serious again. "Before we decide on anything else, I'll have to go back to the location of the ambush. It's the only way to know who was responsible for the attack."

For a moment she did not say anything, but then she forced herself to ask what she was wondering. "Would...would it be possible to recover some of the...bodies?"

Nathaniel gave her a keen look. "No," he said. "It will not be possible."

Cora nodded in mute understanding, pressing her lips together.

He continued to regard her, thoughtfully. "Who was Hayward?"

She had forgotten about the leaves she was still holding and as her fingers constricted and expanded automatically, they spilled to the ground in little circular patterns. "He was my fiancé."