Dawn on a Distant Shore Read Free Page B

bed last night, too. Guess you didn't even notice," said Liam.
    "Well, he's
feeling perky, is Nathaniel." Curiosity put a cup of cider on the table in
front of Hannah.
    "A boy,"
said Liam. "Chingachgook was right. Nathaniel's got a son."
    "So he does. And
two fine daughters," added Curiosity. "Never can have enough
daughters, is how I look at it."
    Hannah's smile faded.
"My grandfather should be here. He should know. I wish we had some word of
him."
    Curiosity sat down
with a bowl of her own, and leaned toward the girl to pat her hand. "It
looks like the good Lord is smiling on you today, missy. Jan Kaes brought a
letter in from Johnstown just before the storm broke. Came all the way from Montréal."
    "From my
grandfather?" Hannah sat up straighter.
    Curiosity pursed her
mouth thoughtfully. "Don't think so. It was writ with a fancy hand, so I'd
guess it was from that Scot--Moncrieff was his name, wasn't it? The one that
come through here at Christmas. I'll wager he had some word of Hawkeye,
though."
    Outside, the dogs
began barking and Liam got up to see to them.
    "That'll be the
judge," said Curiosity. "And half the village with him, by the sound
of it. Ain't good news louder than Joshua's horn?"
    "It is,"
said Nathaniel from the doorway. He looked tired, but there was an easiness to
the line of his back that Hannah hadn't seen in a long time. She launched
herself at her father; he caught her neatly, and bent over to whisper in her ear.
    "Squirrel,"
he said in Kahnyen'kehâka, hugging her so hard that her ribs creaked. "I
am mighty proud of you. Thank you."
    "Is there word of
Grandfather?" she whispered back.
    A sudden wave of cold
air and an eruption of voices at the door pulled Nathaniel's attention away. He
patted her back as she let him go, but not before she saw the flash of worry move
across his face, only to be carefully masked as he turned to greet his
father-in-law.
     
    Elizabeth Bonner
believed herself to be a rational being, capable of logical thought and reasonable
behavior, even in extreme circumstances. In the past year she had had opportunity
enough to prove this to herself and to the world. But next to her, soundly
asleep in the cradle beside the bed, were two tiny human beings: her children.
She could not quite grasp it, in spite of all the evidence to hand.
    Look, Curiosity had
called, holding up first one and then the other to examine by the light of the rising
sun. Look what you made!
    The day had been
filled with visitors and good wishes, the demands of her own body, the simple needs
of the infants. She was tired to the bone, but still Elizabeth looked. She lay
on her side, watching the babies sleep. Her children, and Nathaniel's.
    "Boots,"
Nathaniel said from the chair before the fire. "You think too hard."
    "I can't help
it," she said, stretching carefully. "Look at them."
    He put down the knife
he had been sharpening and came to her. She had seldom seen him look more
weary, or more content. Crouched by the side of the cradle with his hands
dangling over his knees, he studied the small forms.
    "You did good,
Boots, but you need your sleep. They'll be looking for you again before you
know it."
    She nodded, sliding
down into the covers. "Yes, all right. But you're tired, too. Come to
bed."
    Now Elizabeth's
attention shifted to Nathaniel. She watched as he shed his buckskins, thinking
what she must always think, and always keep to herself: that he was as
beautiful to her as these perfect children. The line of his back, the way his hair
swung low over the wide span of his shoulders, the long tensed muscles in his thighs,
even his scars, because they told his stories. When he lay down beside her she
moved closer to his warmth instinctively. But instead of drifting to sleep, she
was caught up in his wakefulness.
    In the year they had
been together she had at first been amazed and then slightly resentful of Nathaniel's
ability to fall instantly to sleep--it was a hunter's trick, a warrior's skill
as important