Edge of the Wilderness - By Stephanie Grace Whitson Page 0,48

“He’s fine, Gen. I’ve seen it happen before on the mission field. When men don’t have a woman caring for them, they don’t care for themselves. They don’t eat properly, they don’t rest—they work themselves into a frenzy, and then they fall apart. We’ll just have to see that it doesn’t happen again.” She smiled at Gen, who nodded and left.

Elliot sipped his tea and watched as Miss Jane finished putting away her market packages. She untied a small bundle of cinnamon sticks and put them in a clean jar. Brown sugar and flour were put into crocks in the pantry, tea in a dark brown box on a shelf over the stove. Finally, she slid three pies into the oven and then, pouring herself a cup of tea, sat down opposite Leighton.

“Suppose you tell me what the problem is between you and my friend Miss LaCroix,” she said abruptly.

Leighton raised his eyebrows and eyed Miss Jane for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said carefully.

“Of course you do, Mr. Leighton.” Miss Jane sipped her tea. “Every time the two of you are in the same room, it positively frosts over.”

Leighton put a teaspoon of sugar into his teacup and stirred it. “I apologize,” he said quickly, “if I’ve made you uncomfortable. And I don’t want to say anything that might reflect poorly on Miss LaCroix, since you obviously care for her.”

Miss Jane shifted in her chair. Leaning forward, she said, “Let’s be clear on something, Mr. Leighton. I have no use for people who dance around an issue. I’ve asked you to say what’s on your mind, and I’d appreciate an honest answer.” She sat back and waited for him to respond.

“Very well,” Elliot said abruptly. “I’ll be brutally honest.” He nodded toward the front of the house where Gen had gone. “That woman’s people have committed horrible, horrible, things. You cannot make a silk purse from a sow’s ear. And you cannot make a civilized human being out of an Indian.”

Miss Jane blinked rapidly a few times and bit her lip, willing herself not to speak for a moment. Presently, she reached across the table and tugged on Leighton’s left sleeve. He let her pull his injured arm onto the table where she laid his hook in the palm of her hand. She looked up at him, her eyes glimmering with emotion when she said, “I believe your people have done a few horrible things from time to time as well, Mr. Leighton.” She arched one eyebrow. “But you don’t hear Miss LaCroix saying how much she hates you because the United States military killed the man she loved by mistake.”

“Please,” Elliot said, pulling his arm back and concealing his hook by sliding it onto his lap beneath the table. “Not another story about the great Daniel Two Stars.” He brushed his white mane of hair back from his face. “I’ve heard all about him from Meg.”

“He’s only one hero from the uprising,” Miss Jane said quickly. “If you’d just listen—”

“I don’t need to hear stories about Indian heroes to know that I have no intention of letting my sister’s children be dragged to the edge of the wilderness just because my brother-in-law has some misdirected notion of piety’s demands. And I most certainly will not have them raised by a half-breed Indian.” He sneered the last word.

“I believe,” Simon said from the bottom of the stairs, “that that is my decision to make, Elliot.” He was leaning against the door frame and neither Elliot nor Miss Jane knew how long he had been listening.

Elliot glanced at Miss Jane, whose cheeks were flaming red.

Simon ignored Miss Jane as he walked across the room to perch on the edge of the table, one hand on the table beside him and one hand on his knee. When he spoke his voice was so quiet Leighton had to strain to hear the words. “I thought it was odd that you would trek halfway across the country just to see your niece and nephew, Elliot. Especially when you haven’t written them once since their mother’s death.”

“If you will recall, Simon,” Leighton said, putting his hook back on the table. “I had to learn a few things more important than writing.”

Simon stood up. “I apologize, Elliot. I truly had forgotten that you were left-handed before you were wounded.”

Aaron burst into the kitchen with Hope in tow. “Uncle Elliot!” he nearly shouted. “I came to the hotel to surprise you,