Sweetbriar Read online

“Why, Devon! The birthdates are the same—January 10, 1758. He was your twin brother.”

  “Still is as far as I know. If I’d known there was so much told in that book, I’d a’ left it at home.”

  “All right.” She began to close the book, then another name caught her attention. “Cord Macalister. He’s the man whose name I keep hearing. He must be your first cousin.”

  “Yeah, Cord’s my cousin.” She was startled at the emotion in his voice.

  She closed the book, not wanting to pry any more into Devon’s family history, obviously somehow painful to him, and turned her thoughts to the unfamiliar task of teaching. “How about your name first?”

  He took the piece of charcoal from her and laboriously wrote “Devon” on a stone of the hearth, smiling triumphantly at his accomplishment. “I been practicin’.”

  “Devon, that’s wonderful! You’re going to be an easy pupil.”

  “It’s not so good,” he murmured.

  She looked at him sternly. “When someone gives you a compliment, you say, ‘Thank you.’ You do not deny the person’s words, even if you think them to be false.”

  “You really are goin’ to be a teacher, ain’t you?”

  She waited patiently.

  He finally smiled and said, “Thank you for the pretty words. Now teach me somethin’ else.”

  “Gladly.” She smiled back at him.

  Linnet threw another log on the fire. She’d been at Sweetbriar for two weeks and was beginning to feel as if she’d always been there. The people had become her friends, and she loved them for their faults as well as their virtues. And they had accepted her, too. She poked viciously at the fire. Except Corinne Stark. That girl used every opportunity to say some sly remark about Linnet, had even started the rumor that what she and Devon did each night alone in her cabin had nothing to do with reading.

  Linnet laughed in memory—she didn’t know whom the people of Sweetbriar were trying to protect, her from Devon, or their precious Mac from a grasping female. For four nights she and Devon had been constantly interrupted by callers with the weakest excuses imaginable for their intrusions. Devon had finally gotten angry and given his opinion of their thoughts, along with his opinion as to their rights in the matter even if what they thought was going on was going on (that had made Linnet blush). But everyone finally left them alone, and Devon was progressing with his reading very rapidly.

  Linnet smoothed the skirt of her new dress, one of two dresses, two aprons, a shawl, and a nightgown that she now owned. Devon laughed that he had more shirts than all the men of Sweetbriar combined, but she knew he was actually pleased.

  A knock on the door brought her from her thoughts. Wilma Tucker stood outside, her look nervous, her hands wringing and pulling on one another.

  “It’s Jessie,” she said. “Is he here?”

  “No, he’s not.” Linnet frowned. “Come in and sit down. You seem to be very upset.”

  Wilma buried her face in her hands. “Jessie’s gone. He’s run off or been takin’. I don’t know what. I thought he was in bed when I looked last night, but this mornin’ it was only a heap of quilts. He ain’t been home all night. Somebody’s takin’ my only boy,” she wailed and began to cry.

  Linnet tried to control her own fear. “All right, stay here and I’ll get Devon. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Mac ain’t here. He went huntin’ afore sunup. I went to him first ’fore I remembered, but then, you bein’ his woman an’ all, I come to you.”

  Linnet blinked a few times—Devon’s woman—the first time she’d heard it stated so blatantly. “We’ll look for him.” She wrapped her shawl about her shoulders. “Go to the Starks’, and then get Agnes. Agnes will know what to do. Do you understand, Wilma? Where’s Floyd?” It was her first thought of Jessie’s father.

  “He went huntin’ with Mac.”

  Linnet grabbed Wilma’s arm, her fear no longer easy to control. “Could Jessie have gone with his father?”

  “No. Jessie and Floyd had a terrible row. Floyd said Jessie was to stay and help Jonathan with the farm, but you know Jessie.”

  Linnet stared at the woman. Yes, she did know Jessie. He had wanted to go hunting with his father, and when he wasn’t allowed to go, he had decided to run away, fixing his bed so no one would know he’d gone. “Wilma, go to Agnes now, and we’ll start looking.” Linnet felt her fear growing, remembering the children who had been captured by Crazy Bear. Involuntarily, she remembered her mother lying by the fire, the growing red stain by her head. A feeling of panic began to seize her. Jessie, for all his bravado, was just a little boy and was in grave danger.

  She nearly pushed Wilma out the door. “Go to Agnes, and she’ll help to get the people to search,” she repeated.

  “Where you goin’?”

  “I’m going to look for Jessie. I think I know some places where he might be.” She stepped into the cold November air and walked toward the forest, her heart beating rapidly.

  Chapter Five

  IT WAS SUNSET WHEN DEVON RODE INTO THE clearing, and he smiled in the direction of Linnet’s cabin and wondered what she had for supper. Pausing for a moment, he thought about how much he enjoyed the evenings alone with her, how quick she was to laugh, how her pretty little mouth…He told himself to stop that line of thought, grinned, and went into the trading post.

  “You back, boy?” Gaylon asked.

  “Yeah, Floyd and me brought back a buck. I got half of him outside.”

  “You hear about the excitement today?” Gaylon asked him.

  “What excitement?”

  “Little Jessie Tucker got hisself lost.”

  Devon stared at the old man. “Lost? He been found yet?”

  “Oh yeah. He slept in the woodshed, and that’s just where his ma wanted him. I ’spect Floyd’ll have a few more words with him.”

  “He deserves them,” Devon commented, aware of the dangers that the woods held.

  “Shore does. He had everybody in Sweetbriar lookin’ for him. Lost a whole mornin’s work.”

  “Well, I’m glad he’s not hurt. Go out and get that buck and dress ’im, would you? I’m starved.”

  “Goin’ to your little gal’s agin’, huh?” Gaylon grinned. “When you gonna hitch up with her and spend all your time over there? She must be able to do somethin’ besides just read and cook.”

  “Linnet’s my own business, and I don’t need you or anybody else to tell me what to do.” He gave Gaylon a stern look before breaking into a wide grin. “I’m just takin’ my time, enjoyin’ the wrappin’ afore the sweet.”

  “That’s all well and good,” Gaylon said seriously, “but if I was you…”

  “Well, you ain’t me,” Devon snapped, “and ain’t likely to be. Now go get that deer like I said and leave me to my own courtin’.”

  “All I was goin’ ta say was she’s too pretty to leave unattached. Somethin’ might happen to her. I hear tell Worth Jamieson’s after her.”

  Devon glared at him.

  “No need to get riled,” Gaylon protested. “I’m just givin’ you some advice, but I know you young bucks. I was the same at your age, thought I knew ever’thin’.” He closed the door behind him.

  Devon went outside to the barrel of rain water behind the store and washed some of the grime off himself from the day’s hunt. As he dried his strong forearms, he thought how Gaylon was right. But just what did Linnet mean to him? He knew how much he liked being near her, how sometimes her shoulder brushed his and his immediate reaction startled and embarrassed him. Damn! he thought, even now he could feel his body’s reaction just to the memory of her nearness. He grinned, white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Worth Jamieson. He was a boy while he, Mac, was a full-grown man. He wasn’t worried about Jamieson.

  He looked up at the stars, saw it was getting late. Rubbing his palms on his thighs, he walked toward her cabin and was surprised when she didn’t answer right away; she was usually waiting for him. He pushed the unlatched door