Elliott nodded thoughtfully, and they rehearsed each phrase before he wrote it, but they were both dissatisfied with their first effort and revised it repeatedly. Their final version was only a slight improvement, but convinced that they had done their best to convey sad and shocking news, Elliott sealed the envelope and addressed it to Hunter in care of William Johnson's trading post.
"This time I just know that he'll answer me," Elliott enthused.
But Alanna left his room praying that Hunter would feel as badly betrayed as Ian, and want nothing to do with his child.
* * *
The carefully prepared letter reached Hunter the first week in December. He carried it to his house unopened, and ashamed that Melissa's marriage had made it impossible for him to continue his friendship with Elliott, he tossed it into the fire unread. He liked Elliott, and was flattered by the fact that the young man still wished to write to him. His previous notes had been friendly and filled with humorous accounts of life on the plantation. Hunter had laughed as he had read them, but he had had nothing to say in return. When the letters had stopped coming, he had been saddened, but more than a little relieved.
He watched the flames blacken the parchment envelope, then spread through the single sheet of stationery, gradually reducing it to cinders. With the holidays coming, he supposed Elliott had thought of him, but he hoped this was the last letter he'd send. He added another log to the fire pit, and all that remained of the letter disappeared into the ashes at the bottom.
With the coming of autumn, all the men were busy trapping, and Hunter had not been challenged to any more fights. That suited him fine, for he intended to get in plenty of trapping himself that winter. He had gone out a couple of times, set a few traps, and had been amply rewarded for his trouble. By the spring he would have earned enough money selling pelts to take expensive presents home for his family, but he still was not certain that he would actually go.
The restlessness that had driven him away from home was still too much a part of him. A born warrior, he listened attentively whenever there was a mention of the French and English dispute over the Ohio Valley, but while he had been told London was sending more troops, they were not expected to arrive until spring. He was undecided as to whether he would again volunteer to scout, but the option held a definite appeal. While the pay wouldn't be nearly as good, there would be far more honor in going into battle against the French army, than simply fighting trappers each weekend for entertainment.
The weather was growing bitterly cold, and it would soon snow. Recalling the warmth of summer, Hunter moved closer to the fire. He had a few books for company, but with little hope the coming year would be better than the last, he was far from content.
Ian requested a leave and sailed for England, but it was Graham Tyler who informed the Barclays of the officer's departure rather than Ian himself. The Scotsman had married their daughter and lived among them, but had not spoken with the family since the day he had fled their home in a rage, leaving them all feeling as abused as he. Hoping to spare the Barclays further grief, Graham volunteered to gather up whatever Melissa and Ian had left in their rented house, and Alanna went along to help.
"Will Ian reach London by Christmas?" she asked.
"Yes, if the good weather holds."
"I wish I could have spoken with him before he left. Do you know when he's coming back?"
"I doubt that he will," Graham
replied. "He lost too much here."
"Perhaps time will soften his heart. I can't bear to think of him hating Melissa, or the rest of us, when we all loved him."
Embarrassed by her mention of love because it did not include him, Graham carried a carton filled with crockery to the door, before replying. "Were you in town earlier today? I thought I might have seen you."
"Yes, my aunt and uncle disapprove of my visiting Christian, but they've not been so foolish as to forbid it."
"And if they did?"
"They'd be very wrong, and I'd have to defy them."
Alanna was refolding linens that had never been used, a task Graham thought particularly senseless, but he imagined she might feel as uneasy in her late cousin's former home as he did. "What if I asked you not to see the boy so often? Would you give my feelings any more consideration than your aunt and uncle's?"
Alanna set the last pillowcase aside. "Your feelings? What are you talking about, Graham? Why should you care how often I see my baby cousin?"
They were nearly finished with the sorting and packing, and Graham rushed to make his point. "People are beginning to talk, Alanna. Melissa's death brought your family enormous amounts of sympathy, and the suddenness of Ian's departure is understandable, but the fact that no one has seen the child is causing comment. I've heard rumors that he's deformed."
"Why would anyone say such an awful thing? You know that he isn't!"
"Yes, but I don't dare say that I've seen the boy, for fear I'll be asked questions I'd rather not answer. Weren't you going to send for Christian's father?"
"Yes, we did, but so far there's been no reply."
Graham nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'd hoped he would be on his way here by now. Until he does arrive, I really wish you wouldn't spend so much of your time with Christian."
Alanna was amazed by what she regarded as completely unwarranted meddling in her affairs. She reminded herself that Graham was an officer and used to giving orders, but despite the splendid tailoring of his uniform and proud military bearing which imparted unmistakable authority to each of his gestures, she did not respond with the loyalty of his troops. "You have absolutely no right to make such a request, Graham. I wouldn't dream of telling you how you ought to spend your time."
"That's a completely different issue," he argued. "I believe there's something you haven't considered."
"Oh really? I can't think what it might be."