“Yer as pretty as an apple blossom, lamb.”
“Thank you, Annie. ’Tis lovely.” Bethie ran her hands over the soft blue linen of her skirts. She’d never owned so fine a gown. Nicholas had bought it for her, along with the new, white shift she wore beneath it and the doeskin moccasins on her feet. It must have cost him a fortune in hides. Surely he knew she could never repay him.
There are no debts between us, Bethie, no ledger to tally.
“Tell me, Annie, how did you come by such a gown already sewn?”
Annie’s cherry cheeks drooped as the smile left her face. “Settlers pass through here and realize too late that they need an extra rifle a sight more than pretty gowns or flowery teacups. We do what we can, but there’s no’ much call for frippery on the frontier. Why, yer man is the only officer here to have his lady with him.”
Officer? His lady?
Nicholas was but a trapper and she no more than a widow he’d rescued in passing.
She started to shake her head, stopped herself. She knew so little about him. For all she knew, hecouldbe an officer.
No sooner had they arrived at the fort than the fort commander had requested to meet with Nicholas. She’d thought at the time the captain was merely eager for whatever Nicholas could tell him of happenings in the surrounding countryside.
Certainly Nicholas hadn’t behaved like a military man who’d just received an order from his superior. He had barely paid the lieutenant who’d summoned him any heed, had insisted on settling Bethie and Isabelle first. Much to her surprise, the lieutenant had immediately assigned one of his men—a young private named Patrick Fitchie, who blushed to the roots of his carrot-orange hair every time he glanced at Bethie—to see that she and Belle were given suitable quarters and a hot meal. Only then had Nicholas turned and followed after the lieutenant.
Bethie had expected to find herself forced to lodge in a horse stall or even in the open air. Instead, Private Fitchie had led her to a grand room with wooden floors, a deep hearth, and a large bedstead of carven oak. When she’d asked Private Fitchie if everyone at Fort Pitt was housed in such comfort, he’d merely turned a bright shade of red.
She’d barely had time to glance around her, when a plump older woman with a kindly face had entered, sent by Nicholas with a new gown for her, fresh diaper cloths for Belle, and instructions to prepare a hot bath for both of them. With many a “poor lamb!” Annie had heated water, helped bathe the baby, then held Belle so that Bethie could bathe in peace.
“She has the face of an angel, just like her mother!”
Annie had even combed the tangles from Bethie’s hair and braided it, despite Bethie’s insistence that she could do it herself.
“Nonsense, lamb!” she’d said when Bethie had tried to take the brush from her hand. “Ye’ve had a frightful journey, and yer man thinks ye deserve a bit o’ lookin’ after.”
Bethie hadn’t known what to say, but something about Annie’s words had left her feeling strangely giddy. Nicholas had bought her a gown and felt she deserved looking after.
Annie, it turned out, was the wife of one Master Charlie Baskin, the man who ran the trading post at the fort. She’d wanted to know everything about Bethie’s journey. So Bethie had recounted the nightmare of the fire, the horror of finding massacred families, the terrifying moment when the bull had come charging out of the forest, their encounter with other settlers. She’d even told Annie about the fight in the gully.
“And so ye shot him—dead?” Annie had gaped at her in amazement.
A vague, sick feeling had stirred in Bethie’s belly at the memory. “Aye. I couldna let him kill Nicholas!”
Annie had stopped brushing her hair, given her a quick hug. “Of course not, lamb! ’Tis a fine man ye’ve got, one well worth savin’. I saw how he kissed you this mornin’. ’Twas enough to make my old knees go all coggly.”
“Aye.” Certainly Bethie’s knees had gone coggly, along with the rest of her.
“Now then, we’re all finished. Unless there’s anythin’ else ye need, I’ll be off home. You know where to find me if you need me.”
Despite her deep weariness, Bethie was sorry to see Annie leave. It had been four long years since she’d shared the company of another woman. “Thank you, Annie. You’ve been very kind to me. But, nay, I’m afraid I dinnae know where to find you.”
“Ye just ask anyone here where to find old Annie Baskin, and they’ll point the way.” Annie gave Belle one last tickle under her chin and was gone.
Suddenly unable to stay awake one moment longer, Bethie lay down on the soft bed, with Belle in her arms, and was instantly asleep.
***
Richard Sorley watched from across the courtyard as the old Baskin woman shut the door behind her and walked off toward the trading post.
So, little Elspeth Stewart was here.
He smiled, felt a familiar itch in his groin.
He’d seen her ride in this morning with the others, watched as she’d wantonly kissed the big dark-haired trapper in front of everyone. Whoever he was, he wasn’t the man she had married. But then his dear stepsister had always been a whore.
