Page 57 of The Condemned (Echoes from the Past #6)

FORTY-SEVEN

Mary returned to the cabin just in time to get started on supper.

John, Simon, and Travesty would be back from the fields soon, and they’d be hungry and tired.

Mary went about her tasks, her hands moving of their own accord, unconnected to her jumbled thoughts.

The hours she’d spent with Walker were the happiest she’d ever known.

He hadn’t pressed her to give him an answer or spoken of what their life together might be like.

He’d simply gloried in spending time with her.

After making love for a third time, Walker pulled her to her feet and helped her dress.

Her hands trembled, and she couldn’t manage to tie her laces.

He gently moved her hands aside and laced up her bodice, as if she were a little girl, then ran his fingers through her tangled tresses and expertly braided her hair, pinning it up so she could put her cap back on.

“I want to show you something,” he said. “Come.”

They followed the creek until Walker spotted a fallen log.

He lifted it easily, held it up and allowed it to fall across the creek, forming a crossing.

The log wasn’t thick, but big enough to hold their weight if they crossed one by one.

Walker went first, then turned and beckoned for Mary to join him on the other side. She followed.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

They walked for about a mile toward the Kirby plantation, then Walker took a sharp turn and pulled Mary deeper into the woods. There, nestled among the trees, was a small shack. The roof was covered with pine boughs and the walls green with moss, making the tiny dwelling almost impossible to spot.

“What is this place?” Mary asked as she followed Walked toward the narrow door .

“I came across it some time ago while setting traps. Some Englishman built this years ago, but it’s been abandoned for a long time.”

Walker pushed open the door and invited Mary to come inside. The interior of the shack wasn’t nearly as ramshackle as the outside. There was an old wooden cot covered with a blanket of fur, along with other signs of habitation.

“Do you sleep here?”

“I did once, when I got caught in a terrible storm while hunting with two others. We were here for two days. I’ve never seen a storm like it before or since.”

“So, why did you bring me here?” Mary asked.

“It’s not safe for us to meet by the creek. Once the harvest is in, your husband and his servant will spend more time at home. And the woman, she is not to be trusted. She sees more than you think. We can meet here. And you can come here if you ever need a safe place.”

Mary nodded. “All right. But I must go back now. I have supper to prepare.”

“I went to see the physician yesterday,” Walker said as he walked Mary back to the spot where they’d met earlier.

Mary’s eyes flew to Walker’s face. “Are you ill?”

He flashed her a grin. “I am well.”

“Why did you go, then?”

“My mother was mistrustful of tribal medicine. She said the English knew more about healing. I want to learn about English ways.”

“And did you?” Mary asked .

“Dr. Paulson was happy to show me his medical tools and some of his potions. He was amused by my interest. He spoke to me like I was a curious child,” Walker said, chuckling. “His tools seem more appropriate to butchering meat. He showed me a saw for cutting off limbs.”

“Sometimes it’s necessary to remove a limb to save a life.”

Walker shrugged. “It’s barbaric. A body should not be desecrated. There are other ways.”

Mary would have liked to know what those ways were, but they’d reached the turnoff toward the plantation.

Walker gathered her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. He held her face in both his hands and smiled into her eyes. “I will wait for you.”

“I will come,” Mary replied.

That night, when John slipped out of bed, Mary didn’t care. Her body still thrummed with desire, and she could hardly wait to see Walker again.