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Elizabeth of Saginaw Bay (Great Lakes Romances) (Volume 12)

By Donna Winters

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CHAPTER 1
Saginaw Valley, Michigan
July 1, 1837

Shock set in as twenty-year-old Elizabeth Morgan gripped the scarred rail of the Governor Marcy and searched the untamed eastern bank of the Saginaw River for the town she was now to call home. Where were the streets, the clapboard houses, the picket fences?
A small dock gave evidence of civilization. Above it, shin tangle, wild roses, and morning glories—closed tight in the waning of the hot afternoon—spread a rude carpet up either side of a split rail stairs. At the top of a three-foot slope, a needle-strewn path entered a daunting pine and hardwood forest. There, amongst towering trees, Elizabeth could barely make out a primitive settlement of squat log cabins, and the shadowy figure of a man standing at the head of a trail.
Could this possibly be Riverton, the village in which Elizabeth and her new husband, Jacob, had invested nearly every penny of the wedding gift his father had bestowed on them? She drew a sharp breath. The essence of pine tempered the stench of the steamer’s green wood smoke, but couldn’t quell her panic, nor sweeten the taste of anxiety on her tongue. As Captain Winthrop gave a final blast of the steam whistle and shouted commands to make fast, she looked frantically for her husband.
Jacob, the six-foot-tall, thirty-year-old banker was at the bow, white shirt sleeves rolled up as he helped a crusty crewman secure the vessel to the pier. Elizabeth made haste for the front of the steamer, reaching the bow just as Jacob leaped over the gunwale and raced up the riverbank steps two at a time toward a hefty figure at the top. Was it his father’s brother?
Evidently so, because Jacob embraced the man as if he were long lost kin. How could her husband put his arms about the scoundrel who had convinced him that the best investment on earth was the thriving town that in reality did not exist? They were talking animatedly as they made their way to the dock. She hoped Jacob was petitioning for a return of his investment.
Her thoughts were disrupted by a scuffling on the deck. A crewman was heading for the gangway, her curve-topped trunk balanced on his broad shoulders.
“Stop! Bring that back!” She hurried to catch up with him. “Return that trunk to my cabin. I’m not getting off here.”
“But this here’s your stop, ma’am. Riverton.” The fellow tapped a grimy knuckle against the bold letters Jacob had painted on the side of the trunk.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue just as the crewman trudged down the gangway and deposited her trunk on the dock—at the feet of Jacob and his uncle.
Jacob gazed up at her, beckoning with his wide, captivating smile and a wave of his arm. “Elizabeth, come down here, please. I want to introduce you to my uncle.”
Wondering how he could accept the situation with such equanimity, she gripped the rail with both hands, leaned forth, and stated firmly, “I am not getting off this boat, Jacob Morgan.”
His smile faltered as he tossed his head, shaking the sun-gold hair from his heavenly blue eyes, and started up the gangway. Wrapping his large hands gently about her tiny wrists, he leaned down and spoke softly in her ear. “Elizabeth, my darling, you know I’d never leave you on this boat, don’t you?”
“But Jacob—”
“Don’t fret, my precious.” Blowing a kiss into her ear, he whispered, “I love you madly. I’m only asking you to do what’s best. Now trust me and come meet Uncle Will.”
Jacob’s seductive goading, coupled with the enticing summer-fresh scent of him, weakened her resolve. Miffed by the ease with which she allowed him to lead her ashore, she refused to smile at the bearded man whose hazel eyes glimmered with a hint of mischief.
Uncle Will reached out, enfolding her hands in his huge, rough ones. “Elizabeth, welcome to the thriving community of Riverton. It’s plain to me that the finest town in the Midwest has just been graced—”
“The finest town in the Midwest?” She jerked her hands free and waved off a swarm of pesky mosquitoes.
Despite her sharp remark, his wide smile never faded, hinting at the source of her husband’s affable nature. “Like I was saying, the finest town in the Midwest has just been graced by the arrival of the most splendid-looking lady in all of York State!” He kissed her cheek before she could dodge the affection. “Now come with me. There are folks I want you to meet, and places you’ll want to see.” He headed up the steps.
Elizabeth spoke quietly to Jacob. “I’ve already seen all I want to.” She started to turn toward the boat.
He wrapped his arm about her waist and held her fast. “Be patient, my darling, and come along with me for now.” Giving her a reassuring squeeze, he offered no choice but to go with him up the stairs.
Several adults and a passel of children had gathered atop the riverbank, and Uncle Will made introductions. “These here are the Farrells, the Sayers, the Langtons, and the Reverend and Mrs. Clarke.” To those gathered, he said, “I’d like you all to make my nephew and his new bride feel welcome—Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Morgan, all the way from Brockport, New York.”
Elizabeth paid little attention to the names, certain she wouldn’t be in Riverton long enough to bother getting to know all the men, women, and children Uncle Will had introduced so quickly. But the names of two women stuck in her mind as each of them shook her hand.
One was Mrs. Langton, whose thin, deeply lined face spoke of hardships and troubles. Her scrutinizing gaze put Elizabeth on edge, as did her bony handshake.
By contrast, Mrs. Clarke’s genial, round face held a peace and serenity that seemed somehow familiar. When her plump hands enfolded Elizabeth’s, she felt not only welcome, but as if the older woman was already a friend.
“Do come to my cabin for tea once you’ve settled in,” said Mrs. Clarke. “You’ll know our place by the wooden cross on the door.”
“You’re so kind,” Elizabeth replied, about to explain she’d be gone on the morrow. But Jacob’s uncle took her by the hand and led her away.
“I’m sure you’re anxious to get to your honeymoon cottage. It just so happens Mr. LaMore has gone home to Canada for the next few months. You can use his place till you’ve put up one of your own.” He led her down one of the narrow trails crisscrossing the small clearing. Jacob followed close behind. Soon after they passed the Clarke’s place, they arrived at a tiny log structure set against the forest.
When Uncle Will swung open the rough-hewn door, a musty odor issued forth. Determined not to enter, Elizabeth drew away, only to encounter Jacob, who scooped her up in his arms.
“Put me down!”
“Not till I’ve carried my bride over the threshold!” He stepped into the dim cabin that featured cobwebs for curtains, and nothing but a cot, table, and three-legged stool for furniture.
“Put me down! I’m going back to the boat!” Elizabeth thrashed hard.
Jacob set her on her feet.
“Surely you don’t mean to leave so soon after coming all this way,” Uncle Will countered, his wide form filling the doorway. “You haven’t even given Riverton a chance.”
Elizabeth set her hands on her hips and faced Will squarely. “Nor do I intend to. This isn’t the town you bragged about. This is nothing but a forest! Now let me pass!”
In the distance, a steam whistle blew. Uncle Will’s gray-brown beard and shaggy mustache parted in a toothy grin. “That’s the Governor Marcy pulling away from the dock. I guess you’ll be staying after all.”
“We’ll just see about that!” Elizabeth’s cheeks burned. She so wanted to pound her balled fists against the man’s broad chest.
Jacob came alongside her, taking her hands in his. “I know this place isn’t quite as fancy as you expected, but it’s a roof over our heads.”

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