Her Cherokee Groom

Raising her skirts above her shoe tops, she circled the far end of the carriage house and stable, pushing aside bushes as she went. She paused in a tiny garden surrounded by overgrown foliage and pointed to the remains of a small corral beyond. “I had forgotten this was even here.”

She could tell he was thinking because he was half frowning, half smiling. “It can’t be seen from the street. Do you realize what this means?”

“Not really.”

“We could meet here later for the picnic we dare not have in a park.” He hesitated. “That is, if you are willing.”

“With Johnny, of course,” she added, blushing.

“Of course. I would not have suggested otherwise. The boy will chaperone us and we will be meeting in broad daylight. Nothing could be more socially acceptable.” He grinned. “At least in our peculiar circumstances.”

“All right. I’ll ask Lucy to pack us a basket lunch. She does not have to know where Johnny and I have gone or who else will share our meal.”

“When shall I return?”

“Margaret meets with a sewing circle for tea today and John will be leaving for the Capitol earlier than that.” Annabelle grinned. “Will you wait until Margaret’s gone?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

He tipped his hat and gave another bow. On most men such actions might have looked effeminate, but not when Charles McDonald made them. The strength and power of his physique were impressive indeed, enough to warm her cheeks all the more.

Annabelle rested her hand beneath her throat and felt her heartbeat accelerating. And this time it was not due to trepidation. It was definitely a result of watching the Cherokee emissary walking away.

The only thing better was going to be his return.

* * *

Charles knew that every additional hour he spent in the city after the departure of his kinsmen increased his risk. Nevertheless, he was not going to just ride off and leave Annabelle. Nor Johnny. If what Eaton had told her was true, the boy’s days of good care in that household were numbered. In that case, it might behoove him to allow the child to flee as he’d wanted all along.

Unfortunately, the timing was off. If Johnny stayed until the treaty disagreements were settled, one way or the other, many months could pass. By then, chances were good that Annabelle would have been tried and probably wrongly convicted due to outside influences.

Charles grimaced. She wasn’t the only one who could end up in prison. He was in the same boat. With Ridge and the rest of the diplomats gone, there was no one to assure Washington authorities that Cherokee justice would be carried out. Charles had lost his primary defense.

He saw to the needs of his rented horse, loosening the saddle girth and watering the animal at one of the livestock troughs shaded by poplars along Connecticut Avenue. Grass there was thick and kept trimmed by sheep. Too bad he couldn’t bring Annabelle here for a picnic instead of lurking in an overgrown, abandoned garden, but he could see the problem of being seen together in public. Word would surely get back to Margaret Eaton, one way or another, and she was a force to be reckoned with.

It was not hard for Charles to accept that a woman could be in charge because that was the way his tribe functioned. His own mother ran a successful plantation. Inheritance and authority passed down through women and so did clanship. It was because of her that he was numbered among the Wolf clan.

Rows of soldiers marched by in the street, rifles on their shoulders. Uneasy, Charles tightened the saddle girth, mounted up and headed back toward New York Avenue. He didn’t know why he kept imagining that he and Annabelle Lang belonged together, he simply did, and mental arguments against such feelings failed repeatedly. Truth to tell, the closer he got to the secret garden, the more anxious he was to see her again.

He left his horse hitched to a rear portion of the wrought-iron railings that surrounded the entire property rather than bring it through one of the distant gates. As soon as no one was watching, he vaulted over the fence and ducked into thick shrubbery. It was debasing to have to skulk around. His pride would not have allowed it under other circumstances. But this time? This time was different.

Pushing through the leafy branches, he spied her. Ringlets of her hair reflected the sun’s glow as they peeked from beneath a small bonnet and she was waving boldly, a far cry from the shy way she had behaved when they had first met.

“I am so glad you didn’t change your mind,” she said as soon as he was closer.

“Never. Margaret’s gone?”

“Yes.”

“You had no problems?”

“None worth mentioning.” She tugged Johnny out from behind her. “I did have difficulty convincing this little man that we weren’t going to get into trouble by doing this.”

“I pray you are right.” Charles laughed and tousled the boy’s dark hair.

“Where did you leave your horse?”

“I tied him out behind. It’s a lot easier to hide myself than a full grown mount.” He eyed the basket. “The servants didn’t suspect anything?”

“No. Lucy has been the family cook for longer than I can remember and nobody else saw me leaving.”

“Good. Where shall we set the food?”

“I brought a cloth and swept the ground a little while I was waiting for you,” Annabelle said. “There is a lovely place over there beneath the honeysuckle.”

“Perfect.” Charles helped her lay the cloth, then recruited the boy to keep watch for a bit, just in case.

Johnny pouted. “I’m hungry.”

“We will call you when it’s time to eat. I know Miss Annabelle will not let you starve.”

As soon as the child walked away she began to speak quietly to Charles. “I tried to listen in as John was discussing Indian affairs with Margaret this morning but I’m afraid I wasn’t able to learn anything new. It is clear the president and his cabinet do not value treaties. Especially not since gold has been discovered in Georgia.”

“We have known about the gold for many generations. It is unfortunate that word has gotten out,” Charles said.

“Is that why the powers that be want the Cherokees to move west?”

He nodded. “That, and coveting the land. It’s not just us. Have you ever heard of the Five Civilized Tribes? We are the Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek and Seminole.”

“I think so. It seems unfair to expect you to uproot and leave the farms that you have worked for so many generations.”

He managed a smile for her benefit even though his heart was hardened. “It is more than unfair. It is criminal. And unless we can solve our tribal differences and learn to work and stand together, we will lose.”

Turning her sky-blue eyes to him and growing somber, she offered, “Sadly, I believe the same can be said of you and me, Mr. McDonald.”

* * *

Spreading her skirts gracefully, Annabelle settled at the edge of the cloth and began to take food from the basket. There was fresh bread and cold meat and Lucy’s delicious sweet pickles, plus part of a pound cake for dessert. A clay jug held lemonade which she poured into small tin cups.

Yet she hardly tasted the meal. Ideas kept whirling through her mind and being rejected by the logical side of her personality. She felt she would burst if she did not share her concerns, so the moment Johnny finished stuffing himself and resumed his guard post she opened a fresh conversation. “I need to ask you a question.”

“Fine.” Charles was seated with his back against a poplar trunk and looked far more relaxed than she felt.

“You wanted to know about my dreams? Well, I have given that a lot of thought and I know what I want.”

He sat forward, legs crossed, and studied her. “Go ahead.”

“I want to find my family, whatever is left of it. I have no idea where to start or how to proceed but I think, if I could just learn who I am and where I come from, I’d be happy.”