Read Online The Frontiersman’s Daughter by Laura Frantz - Free Book Online Page B

chill clean through her. Eyes wide and wet, her hand shot out and clutched the heavy fringe of his hunting shirt. “Pa, promise. Promise you’ll come after me if—if he—”
    He waited for her to finish, but she couldn’t.
    He simply said, “’Twould not be a bad life, Daughter.”
    At this, all the air went out of her.
    He continued, so calm and quiet she thought she’d misheard. “Truth be told, I’d sooner see you with Captain Jack as Simon Hayes.”
    The hurtful words stilled her heart. Her hand fell away from the worn linen, but their eyes locked and held, hers full of unasked questions, his an unfathomable blue.
    “Oh Pa . . . you don’t mean . . .”
    There was steel in his gaze and unmistakable warning. “Aye, Daughter, I do.”

10

    Lael wandered the river bottom like a broken compass, walking every which way but home. She knew Pa shadowed her, but she couldn’t see him. Bonnetless and barefoot despite the first frost, she bore her ginseng bundle on her back with nary a thought for the money it would bring. Money enough to settle the stipend with Ma. Money enough to tuck away for a rainy day when a bit of frippery was called for.
    But it wasn’t these things she thought of. Her heart had been cut to pieces by Pa’s strong words, his indictment of Simon Hayes. ’ Twould not be a bad life, Daughter. His whispered words followed her, stinging like a bee.
    She hardly blinked when the ginseng she’d dug brought a king’s price. Riding hard all the way home alongside her father, she soon deposited a kerchief of shillings in front of a surprised Ma. Without waiting for her to count the coins, Lael climbed the loft ladder and stuffed some of her belongings in a knapsack. When she came back down, her ma sat in her rocker, the money filling her apron.
    ’Twas a good time to go see Ma Horn, Lael decided. She hadn’t mentioned her plan, but now, with all the chores of autumn done, perhaps she could rest a spell. Strings of dried apples and leather-britches beans hung from the rafters, crocks of crabapple jelly and cider cooled in the springhouse. The corn was cribbed and a new ash hopper stood in back of the cabin. Surely Ma couldn’t think of another thing to hold her.
    She passed onto the porch, stooping to kiss Ransom. The roses seemed to bid her good-bye. A bit faded, the canes all a-tangle, the blossoms drooped and spilled spent petals onto the worn porch planks. As she looked around, exasperation stabbed her. Where was Pa? She was ready to go, yet she hadn’t asked his permission. Dare she simply go? Right now? By herself, if need be? After all, he couldn’t remain her lifelong shadow.
    “I’ll be leavin’ now, Ma. Tell Pa I’ll be back shortly.”
    Ma said not a word.

    A brilliant moon, round and white as a biscuit, dogged her as she walked high atop the ridge. She’d left Pride behind as a horse made altogether too much noise. She much preferred her own mended moccasins. Did her father follow on foot as well? Twice she whirled about, sure she heard him. But the woods would not give him up and remained silent and shadowed. She dared not think of Captain Jack.
    All around her expansive outcroppings of rock wooed her to the very edges of eternity. Winded, she paused atop dizzying drops and gathered her breath. Far below, an occasional curl of smoke revealed a hidden cabin. Farther still, the Kentucke River was but a sliver of silver thread.
    Strange how well one’s eyes adjusted to the growing gloom, she mused, continuing long after dark. Nature seemed to be tucking itself in for the night, dwindling down as if sleepy. As she walked along the familiar trail she seemed to shed her burdens. Beneath the great cathedral of trees, the quiet seemed holy, not haunting. She found the place she and Pa had camped and bedded down beneath a sheltering sycamore before resuming her climb the next morning. Toward dusk the next day she found Ma Horn dragging a hemp sack and gathering pine knots off the forest