Drums of Autumn - Diana Gabaldon [447]
This was a faint hope, though. In the midst of the bitter quarrel with Brianna, Jamie had admitted telling Ian to make sure that Roger didn’t come back again. Tennago was about ten days journey from the Ridge; much too close for the purposes of an enraged father.
I wanted to ask the women who entertained me about Roger, but no one in the house had any French or English, and I had only enough words of Tuscaroran to allow for basic politeness. Better to let Ian and Jamie handle the diplomatic negotiations. Jamie, with his gift for languages, was competent in Tuscaroran; Ian, who spent half his time hunting with the Indians, was thoroughly fluent.
One of the women offered me a platter containing steaming mounds of grain cooked with fish. I leaned to scoop up a bit with the flat piece of wood provided for the purpose, and felt the amulet swing forward under my shirt, its small weight both a reminder of grief and a comfort to it.
I had brought both Nayawenne’s amulet, and the carved opal I had found under the red cedar tree. I had brought the former, intending to give it back—to whom, I had no idea. The latter might augment the whisky, if additional bargaining power was needed. For the same reason, Jamie had brought every small valuable he possessed—not many—with the exception of his father’s ruby ring, which Brianna had brought to him from Scotland.
We had left the ruby with Brianna, just in case we did not return—the possibility had to be faced. There was no telling whether Geillis Duncan had been right or wrong in her theories regarding the use of gemstones, but at least Brianna would have one.
She had hugged me fiercely and kissed me when we left River Run. I hadn’t wanted to go. Nor had I wanted to stay. I was torn between them once more; between the necessity to stay and look after Brianna, and the equally urgent necessity to go with Jamie.
“You have to go,” Brianna had said firmly. “I’ll be fine; you said yourself I’m healthy as a horse. You’ll be back a long time before I need you.”
She had glanced at her father’s back; he stood in the stableyard, supervising the loading of the horses and mules. She turned back to me, expressionless.
“You have to go, Mama. I trust you to find Roger.” There was an uncomfortable emphasis on the you, and I hoped very much that Jamie couldn’t hear her.
“Surely you don’t think Jamie would—”
“I don’t know,” she interrupted. “I don’t know what he’d do.” Her jaw was set in a way I recognized all too well. Argument was futile, but I tried anyway.
“Well, I know,” I said firmly. “He’d do anything for you, Brianna. Anything. And even if it weren’t you, he’d do everything he possibly could to get Roger back. His sense of honor—” Her face shut up like a trap, and I realized my mistake.
“His honor,” she said flatly. “That’s what matters. I guess it’s all right, though; as long as it makes him get Roger back.” She turned away, bending her head against the wind.
“Brianna!” I said, but she only hunched her shoulders, pulling the shawl tight around them.
“Auntie Claire? We’re ready now.” Ian had appeared nearby, glancing from me to Brianna, his face troubled. I looked from him to Brianna, hesitating, not wanting to leave her like this.
“Bree?” I said again.
Then she had turned back in a flurry of wool and embraced me, her cheek cold against mine.
“Come back!” she whispered. “Oh, Mama—come back safe!”
“I can’t leave you, Bree, I can’t!” I held her tight, all strong bone and tender flesh, the child I had left, the child I had regained—and the woman who now put my arms away from her and stood straight, alone.
“You have to go,” she whispered. The mask of indifference had fallen and her cheeks were wet. She glanced over my shoulder at the archway to the stableyard. “Bring him back. You’re the only one who can bring him back.”
She kissed me