The Surrogate Wife

Then smallpox had all but wiped the tribe from the face of the earth. Even Meagan’s stepmother had died, but Meagan, her father and half brother were not touched by the sickness. The Indians—what few there were left—began to look upon them askance. Why had the white man and his children been spared?

The day the old chief died, James Reilly took his children and left the village. His wife and his credibility had gone before him, and it was prudent to move on. But while the Indians had been willing to accept and share their lives with the little white child, the white people were not willing to share their lives, or, for that matter, their towns, with a half-breed Indian boy and his family. And they certainly did not want the boy’s father teaching their children.

When Meagan was old enough she hired out, taking care of children and helping the women with their spring and fall housecleaning. After her father’s death Meagan’s brother decided to leave the world of the white man and return to his mother’s tribe. Having been educated by her father, Meagan was qualified to supply an education to the children of a household as well as carry her share of the work.

She had come to Banebridge hoping to obtain a permanent position teaching children. Her search had taken her into the wilderness where Ruth Somers had offered employment. During Meagan’s first week, Lily Daniels had pitched down the Somerses’ stairs. Meagan had run from the kitchen to help and was bending over the unfortunate woman when Ruth began screaming for her husband and accused Meagan of murder.

And now Meagan was going to a place that would be her home and her prison.

Meagan had always thought that someday she would have a man and a home of her own. Now that dream would never come to pass. Slaves didn’t have homes. Indentured servants weren’t allowed the freedom of choosing a husband. Her life was over before it had a chance to begin.

She closed her eyes and tried to squeeze out one more prayer for salvation, aware that the prayers with which she had barraged heaven over the past weeks had apparently fallen on deaf ears. Surely the Lord hadn’t received her messages, for he hadn’t taken the time to answer.

The horses, tired at the end of the day, slowed to little more than a walk as they pulled the heavily laden wagon up a steep hill.

Meagan wouldn’t have tried to jump from the wagon as they clipped along the road coming out of town, but now she might—if she could jump clear and somehow make her way through the woods to the Indian village where Reilly, her half brother, had gone.

As the horses crested the hill, Meagan threw herself from the wagon and ran for the woods. The air burned like fire in her lungs as she raced through the trees and across the streams.

Josh crashed through the brush behind her. Closer, ever closer, as Meagan’s breathing became increasingly shallow and the pain in her side caused her to favor her right leg.

Meagan was younger than her pursuer. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to outrun him. But his persistence defeated her, and in the end she looked back to see him less than ten feet behind. Then, she missed her footing and plunged down an embankment into the icy water below.

She could hear his ragged breathing even before he pulled her from the stream.

“What in the hell possessed you to do such a damn fool thing?” he asked as he set her on her feet.

She brushed a muddy hand across her face and tried to fight back the tears.

“If you were going to run away, why didn’t you run when you were closer to a settlement? There’s nothing out here. There’s no place to run. You wouldn’t last the week. If the Indians didn’t get you, the animals would.” He gave her a little push and marched stoically along beside her, his hand grasping the thick rope of hair that had fallen down her back. “I thought I was doin’ you a favor by keeping you from hanging. Are you crazy or something?”

He grumbled with each step he took and became more verbose as his breath returned right along with his anger.

But his fury was no match for hers. She was angry with him, angry with herself and angry at the world in general.

“No, Mr. Daniels, I’m not crazy. No more than you. I just don’t want to spend the rest of my life working as your slave.”

Josh stopped and turned the girl toward him. She was a sorry-looking sight, with her dripping clothes, muddy face and red-rimmed eyes.

“If you’ll remember, Miss Reilly, I didn’t ask for your indenture. And, I guess if it were me, I would have done the same thing. But I’m a man, and at least I would have had a chance of survival in the wilderness. You don’t! If I thought you did, I just might let you go and save us both a lot of grief.” He sighed as he realized she was shivering noticeably. “As it is, if I don’t get you warmed up, and quick, neither of us will have to worry about you ever being an indentured servant because you won’t live long enough for me to get you home.”

Again he nudged her forward. “Now get a move on. We’ll camp in the clearing near the wagon.”

Meagan did as she was told. She knew she had been foolish to try to run away, but even her senseless act did not affect her as much as did the words Josh had spoken in trying to quiet her as they walked back.

What sort of man was this who would actually admit that not only did he understand the reasoning behind what she had done, but in like circumstances, he would have done the same? She watched him from the corner of her eye, wondering what the outcome of her failed escape would ultimately be. But the expression on Josh Daniels’s face told her nothing, nor did the tone of his voice, which was flat and without emotion as he told her to gather kindling so he could get a fire started.

Before she could move away she heard him give a deep sigh, and with a look of resignation on his handsome face, he looped a rope around her waist, giving her several yards of slack before securing the other end about his own body.

Meagan was unable to suppress the sob that rose to her lips.

“What’s wrong now?” he demanded impatiently.

She lifted the rope in her hand. “Now I truly feel like a slave,” she replied.

Josh looked at Meagan. He looked at the rope and then he said, “So do I!”

* * *

With Meagan lashed to his belt, Josh managed to turn the horse out to graze, make a fire and distribute the last of the pemmican and bread between them. He then spread blankets on the ground and motioned Meagan to lie down on one of them while he stretched his body across the other.

“You can’t expect me to sleep there,” she squeaked as she realized his intention. “The judge specifically forbade us to sleep together.”

Josh looked at the girl. At first he thought she was trying to pull a fast one, but the concern on her face and the tears reflected in her eyes told him different.

“We’re not sleeping together. You have your blanket, I have mine. Now be quiet and go to sleep.” He handed her an extra blanket, but Meagan remained standing, unsure as to the exact meaning of Judge Osborne’s orders.

In pure exasperation, Josh gave the rope a tug and toppled the girl over onto him.

“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat, you’re freezing!” He jumped to his feet, dragging her with him. “Get out of that wet dress,” he ordered. Then, seeing the look on her face, added, “You got something more to wear, don’t you?”

Meagan had other clothes, but she certainly couldn’t change into them while bound to this man’s belt like a partridge.

“You’ll have to untie me so I can change,” Meagan told him. “I can’t get my clothing off or on trussed up with this rope.”

Josh grumbled all the way to the wagon as they retrieved her bundle. The minute he untied Meagan he expected her to run. “Will you give me your word that you won’t try to escape again?”

Meagan’s eyes searched the shadows. The fact that she did not care to explore the dangers of the night reflected in her expression. “I won’t try to run away,” she promised.

“Very well.” He thrust the bundle of clothes into her arms and untied the noose about her waist. “If you try to run this time I’ll never believe another thing you say.”

“You haven’t believed anything up to now, so what’s the difference?” she asked aloud, but for some reason, there was a difference.

With all her worldly possessions in her arms, Meagan had actually given consideration to trying once more to escape. Nothing had seemed as devastating as spending the rest of her life in virtual slavery. But Josh’s threat never to believe her brought her up short.

It mattered that Josh should know he could believe her. It mattered that he might someday be willing to trust her, regardless of the circumstances that had thrust them together. “I told you I wouldn’t run away again,” she said defensively, and slipped behind the questionable protection of a small bush where she changed into dry clothing.

After spreading her dress near the warmth of the fire, Meagan realized that Josh had taken her at her word and spread her blankets on the side of the fire opposite his. With a grateful smile she lay down and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. Even with the warmth of the little fire the night was cool, and her teeth continued their incessant chattering no matter how she tried to silence them. The dress she wore was lightweight gingham and did little to protect her from the cold.

The tribulations of the previous weeks had taken their toll, and even though Meagan fell into a troubled sleep her thoughts would not allow her to rest.

As the night wore on a light rain began to fall. Josh cursed under his breath. Above the sounds of the night he could hear Meagan’s teeth chattering and the little sobs she emitted during her sleep.

Picking up his bedding, Josh got to his feet and went over to awaken the girl. “Come with me,” he ordered once she opened her eyes, her expression a mixture of bewilderment and dread.

Obediently Meagan followed, half dragging her damp blankets. Josh threw an oilcloth under the wagon and quickly spread his blanket over it. “Get under there.” He shoved her toward the wagon and she obeyed without argument.

Even when he joined her beneath the shelter of the wagon she did not speak. It never occurred to Josh that she had clamped her mouth closed so he would not hear her teeth chatter. But Meagan could not hold her mouth closed forever, and before she could be certain Josh was sleeping her teeth again began clacking in her mouth and her body shook so violently she could have sworn it shook the ground.

She felt the tears squeeze from her eyes and burn down her cheeks. Then a hand closed on her shoulder and rolled her onto her side.

Without a word Josh pressed her against the warmth of his body. Within minutes his body heat permeated her clothing, skin and bones. She wanted to object to the close proximity. She knew she should object, but his warmth was like a narcotic. The chill dissipated from her body, leaving it soft and pliable against his. Her whole being relaxed as she inhaled the scent of buckskin, brandy and man.

For the first time since the death of her father, Meagan was able to relax. Her fate had been decided for her. Her future laid out without any possibility of deviation. She might spend the rest of her life serving this man and his family, but she would never stop trying to prove her innocence. The very fact that she was to remain near the scene of Lily’s death gave her hope that someday she would find a way to clear her name.

She felt herself drifting off to sleep and forced herself to whisper drowsily, “The judge said we shouldn’t sleep together.”

Josh absently patted her arm. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m not going to sleep.” And he knew it was true, because the sweet agony of again holding a woman’s soft body in his arms was enough to keep him from batting an eye—especially a woman who had caused his wife’s death. The memory would no doubt haunt him for many sleepless nights to come.

Chapter Two

They rose with the sun. After breaking their fast, Meagan gathered up her dress and climbed up onto the wagon seat where Josh waited. Without a word they started off down the rutted road toward their destination. But the day was all but spent when Josh finally drew Meagan from her reverie. “There it is,” he said.

Meagan’s eyes swept the valley below.

The land was rich and fertile. The green of the grass and trees was vibrant, and the earth black and rich.

Josh skillfully guided the horses along the narrow road, opened the gates and stopped the wagon between the house and the barn.

Meagan glanced around. The outbuildings consisted of a barn, chicken house, several covered stalls for animals, a smokehouse and outhouse. The double cabin was really two buildings connected by a dogtrot.

She wondered if Josh would actually make her stay in the barn as had been suggested before they left town. She glanced at him surreptitiously but he paid her little mind as he climbed from the seat of the wagon and started toward the house, every line of his body alert for whatever he might encounter.

He pulled the nails from the boards that held the doors and windows shut. Putting the nails in his pouch, he stacked the boards beneath the steps and turned to Meagan.

“Get yourself down from there,” he ordered. “Seems safe enough.”

“Safe from what?” Meagan asked as she clambered from the wagon and grabbed her belongings.

“Indians! What else?”

“Oh,” she scoffed. “Indians. I’ve never had any trouble with them.”

“Then you’ve never met Old Howling Dog.” Josh pushed the door open and went inside.

Meagan hesitated on the porch before following.

Josh didn’t bother to look at her as he threw open the shutters on the windows, allowing the fresh breeze to stir the dust in the room. “Indians aren’t going to ask who you are or whether you like them. They aren’t real happy that we’re living on their land. Old Howling Dog wants us gone, and I’m expecting him to make a move to try to see it happens real soon now.”

Meagan swallowed, her false bravado lost in the reality of his words. “I’ll keep my eyes open,” she managed, realizing for the first time the vast difference between what her life had been and what it would be now.

Without another word she took off her bonnet and surveyed her surroundings. A musty, cloying odor permeated the air and Meagan decided that perhaps sleeping in the barn wouldn’t be so bad after all.

There was a thin film of dust on the floor mingled with a sprinkling of mouse droppings. The room boasted a fireplace, bookshelves, wooden chest, two armchairs, a table and a desk. Near the window stood a little organ, and it was all Meagan could do to keep from crying out in joy over the discovery.

Before she could speak, Josh opened a small door on the far wall opposite the fireplace. Meagan followed more slowly. It seemed odd that a home could show so little sign of being lived in, for her trial had taken very little time, considering everything, and Josh couldn’t have been away long enough to account for this stuffiness.

She followed him, wondering how to ask about the room when she found herself on a little dogtrot. A second door opened onto the rear cabin, which Meagan had thought to be a shed since Josh had piled logs for the fire down the side.

She crowed with delight when she popped her head into the smaller room. This one was steeped with warmth from the sun and the spicy smell of life.

There was a fireplace with a cook oven built into the brick. Pots and pans, along with metal utensils and wooden basins, hung from the wall and were stacked neatly on the shelves.

A heavy wooden sink beckoned invitingly as Josh picked up a bucket and headed toward the stream some distance away.

The table was polished to a warm hue. The chairs were solid. A heavy blanket hung along one wall and when Meagan peeked behind it she saw two beds. In the far corner on the other side of the room there was a straw mattress covered with a knit shawl.

A chill ran through her body. It was almost as though Josh Daniels had been expecting to bring her back. But of course, that was ridiculous. He could not have known the judge would give such an order.

“Start a fire and get some water boiling. There’s cornmeal in the keg over by the dry sink.” He looked at her and took a deep breath. “You know how to make mush, don’t you?”

Meagan felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Yes, sir, I do.” She set her jaw and took the kettle from the hook.

“Fine, then make it.”

Josh went outside, unhitched the horses and set them loose in the pasture nearest the house as Meagan washed the pot. The fire was burning brightly when he stopped at the narrow back door.

“Good,” he said as he saw her progress. “I’m going to go down to the river and bring back the livestock.”

He caught her questioning look. “I drive them down there when I’m going to be gone a spell. There are good strong pens and the Indians aren’t likely to bother them there.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Meagan was aware that he hadn’t let her out of his sight for more than a few minutes.

“You goin’ to run?”

“No. What good would it do me?”

Josh nodded his head. “Wouldn’t be no help to either one of us,” he told her. “You got any questions before I leave?”

Megan’s eyes scanned the horizon. Her eyes lit on a thin spiral of smoke rising above the treetops some distance away. Was this evidence of Indians? Perhaps a neighbor. Perhaps it was someone who had not heard the accusations and would judge Meagan for herself, not condemn her because of a vindictive woman’s lies. Meagan tried to smother the hope that sprang up within her.

“What is that smoke in the distance?” she asked.

“That’s from the chimney of my nearest neighbors, Rafe and Ruth Somers.” Without looking back Josh went out the door and through the yard toward the river.

The hope fluttered and died in Meagan’s heart. It was bad enough being the slave of a man who hated her for something she hadn’t done, but having as her nearest neighbor the woman whose testimony had brought her to such dire straits was the last straw.

Meagan measured the cornmeal and water into the pot, put it on the crane and swung it over the fire. There had to be a way to prove her innocence, and somehow she was going to find it, or die trying.

Much to Meagan’s dismay, it wasn’t long before Ruth Somers made her way to the Daniels cabin.

Ruth was a short woman, with a body that reminded Meagan of the masthead on a ship, full-figured and solid. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head. Her eyes gleamed with malevolence as she swept from her wagon and advanced on the house.

Meagan didn’t want to face the woman and took as much time as possible before going to the door. It was obvious that Ruth Somers was familiar with the living arrangements of the Daniels house because she bypassed the parlor and went directly to the door at the far end of the dogtrot, where she hammered her fist against the heavy boards, demanding admission.

Reluctantly Meagan opened the door and faced her nemesis. She didn’t speak, but Ruth Somers did.

“So, you haven’t run away after all. I was about to go to the fort and set up the hue and cry.” She swept past Meagan into the room.

“I’m sure that would have given you a great deal of satisfaction,” Meagan commented.

“It would also have made you look like a fool.” Josh’s voice suddenly rang through the room.

Ruth swung around at the sound of his voice. Her haughty attitude diminished somewhat in his presence. As a woman with a dominant and volatile husband, Ruth knew her place where men were concerned.

“Josh, I thought you’d be out working the land,” she managed.

“And so you came to intimidate my servant, is that it?”

“I simply dropped by to make sure the girl was doing her job and hadn’t poisoned you with her cooking, or stabbed you in your sleep,” Ruth protested, but the words were said with a brittle smile.

Josh went to stand near the hearth where a pot of stew simmered on the hob. He wondered why he was standing up for Meagan against his wife’s friend.

Without being asked, Ruth sat down beside the table. “I’ll have a cup of tea.” She tossed the words at Meagan, who cast a quick glance toward Josh before taking the water kettle from the back of the fire. “Now, what did you mean when you said I would look like a fool?” She folded her hands over her belly and leaned back in the chair, looking like a well-dressed beetle.

Josh softened his attitude toward the portly little woman. After all, Ruth had been Lily’s best friend. It was to be expected that the woman would wreak vengeance on the person she deemed responsible for Lily’s death.

“Meagan often works the fields with me. Sometimes we’re away from the house from dawn till dusk.”

Ruth gave a derisive sniff. “That will all end when little Abigail returns, I assume. Although I wouldn’t allow an indentured felon the care of one of my children.”

Meagan literally bit her tongue to keep from saying that had it not been for Ruth Somers, she wouldn’t have been convicted in the first place. She longed to ask the woman why she had made such wild accusations and was almost ready to do so when Josh guessed her intent and shook his head, silently warning Meagan to be silent.

Ruth was oblivious to the whole situation and continued her harangue regarding the return of Josh’s little daughter.

“I think you should let the child come and stay with me. I could give her a good home and a warm and natural family life. She’d even have children of her own age to play with.” Ruth warmed to her theme, throwing her sons into the bargain. “Far better off with me than living in her father’s house with a murderess.”

“Abbie won’t come back until the end of the summer. By that time most of the work will be done and I will be here in the house to keep an eye on things.” And then he asked what Meagan had not dared to. “Why are you so hostile toward Meagan? You admitted that you hardly knew the girl when you took her to your home, and that you had thought to hire her permanently if she had shown herself to be a good worker.”

Ruth dabbed her eyes with a wisp of linen. “The girl caused the death of my friend. What’s more, she did so in my home. I cannot abide the sight of her.” She glared in Meagan’s direction.

“Then turn your back, Ruth, because I’m afraid that as long as she causes me no trouble, Meagan is here to stay.”

“I’d be more than willing to speak to Judge Osborne,” Ruth offered. “Perhaps I could talk him into hanging her instead of leaving you saddled with a criminal for the rest of your life.”

The teacup rattled against the saucer as Meagan placed it on the table. She took a deep breath. The hatred and something more that she couldn’t name emanated from the guest. How she wished that Josh would say something more on her behalf, but he only shrugged his shoulders. Perhaps he felt the same way and managed better to contain his anger and his hatred for his indentured servant. Meagan had no way of knowing. Surely his demeanor toward her had been clipped and abrupt as he had given orders as to what he expected done about the house.

Meagan had done what she could to avoid making Josh repeat his instructions, and only asked questions when she did not fully comprehend what he had said. He had no quarrel with her work or her willingness, and she knew it. However, he apparently had little compassion for her plight, for rather than refute Ruth’s suggestion about having Meagan hanged, he simply went on talking about the crops and the livestock and then to ask about her husband, Rafe.

A pot of tea later, Ruth prepared to leave.

Josh helped the woman into her wagon and held the reins as she arranged her ample posterior across the seat. “I want you to know that should there be any question of Abbie’s safety I will expect you to bring her to me right away. And see that you remember,” she admonished as she wagged her finger at him, clucked to the horses and was on her way.