Free A Wild Yearning by Penelope Williamson

as if she needed its weight to anchor her to the ground. She had hair so fair it looked almost silver and eyes the deep blue of the sea at dusk.
    Ty's eyes, an identical blue, had gone to the portrait as well, and Delia saw the anger leave him. He sighed wearily and pushed his hand through the front of his hair. "I've told you and told you. They didn't kill her. She died in childbirth."
    "After she had been raped and impregnated by one of your Abenaki savages!"
    "He was her husband."
    "Her husband was murdered!"
    Sir Patrick came up to stand before Ty. They must have been the same height once, Delia thought, before age had stooped the older man. He stood nose to nose to his grandson now, trying to stare Ty down. But Ty's eyes met those of his grandfather's and held them steadily.
    "How can you bear to go back there and live where it all happened?" Sir Patrick said, the pleading plain in his voice. "Where they are?"
    Delia saw the movement of Ty's throat as he swallowed. "The Sagadahoc is my home. And I'm going back."
    The old man blinked, and a tear fell from his eye to roll slowly down his cheek. "I thought I'd made an Englishman of you. I educated you, taught you how to dress and speak properly, but I never could touch your heart. Nay, at heart you're still one of them. You're still an Abenaki savage."
    "I don't know... I don't know what I am anymore," Ty said, his voice strained, and in his eyes Delia saw the agony of a tormented soul.
    But his grandfather was too hurt and too angry to see it.
    "Get out," he said, his voice low and harsh. "Go back there then, to your precious Abenaki wilderness. I never want to set eyes on you again."
     
    A hundred questions danced on the tip of Delia's tongue as they were driven in the coach back to the Red Dragon—most having to do with savage, scalping Indians and their proximity to Merrymeeting Settlement. But there was such a forbidding look on Ty's face, she didn't dare voice even one of them.
    At the inn, Ty jumped from the coach, leaving her to fend for herself. He disappeared inside and she thought about following, but she hadn't been asked, so she went down the street a ways, to the haberdashery shop next door, and leaned against the brick wall to wait for him. A few moments later she saw the ostler go around to the nearby livery stable and come back with a frisky Narragansett pacer and another sturdier horse equipped with a pack saddle. She knew Ty was preparing to leave. She shivered and drew her thin, ragged cloak around her, although it wasn't cold.
    The front door to the Red Dragon opened wide and the porter emerged, staggering under three heavily-loaded haversacks, which he proceeded to tie onto the pack horse. A few moments later, Ty came out.
    Delia barely recognized him. He had changed from his fine gentleman's clothes into a pair of worn buckskin breeches and a hunting shirt made of heavy linen dyed a butternut brown, with long fringes around the shoulders and down the sleeves. He carried his flintlock in one hand and from a beaded Indian strap across his chest hung a powder flask, a shot pouch, and an Indian ax. Only the costly fitted boots were reminiscent of his earlier elegance.
    He looked tough and dangerous, his face hard and frightening. Certainly he seemed the sort of man who could live happily in the wilderness, even among the savages. Delia thought that if his grandfather had seen Ty looking as he did now, he would have realized how hopeless were his expectations.
    Ty shoved the rifle into the saddle holster. He gathered up the lead of the pack horse and swung onto the pacer's back, digging his heels into the horse's side. It took Delia a moment to realize he was leaving without her.
    She snatched up the grist sack at her feet and ran into the street after him. "Ty, wait! Wait for me!"
    He whirled his horse around, and she saw by the look on his face that he had completely forgotten her.
    "Delia..." His face softened and he even managed a smile. Leaning over,