The boys watched with interest as he formed a dragon.
“What is that?” Ryan asked.
“It’s a wicked, fire-breathing dragon,” Edwin explained.
“What’s a dragon?” asked Lewis.
“A horrible creature who eats people,” Edwin replied.
Their eyes grew round with fear.
“Do dragons eat little boys?” asked Lewis.
“Only for dessert,” said Edwin.
The twins frowned.
“Dragons are imaginary. No one has ever seen a dragon.” Margaret pounded her large mound of dough and then flattened it with a roller. She used a round gadget to cut the dough into perfect circles.
“I knew a dragon,” Edwin boasted.
Aunt Sally glared at him. “Foolishness.”
Margaret smiled. “Did he have a name?”
“I don’t know, but he lived in the moat under a drawbridge. He came out at night, which is why all good children had to be in their beds at night, for the dragon never eats good children.” His nursemaid had told him the tale and her tactic had worked for a few years until he turned seven and began to question the story. “But sometimes, when he’s hungry, a dragon will eat worms.”
Edwin’s doughy dragon attacked the boys’ dough worms and the boys screamed with delight.
Margaret laughed.
Aunt Sally gave a disparaging huff. “Some men never grow up.”
“The ones who do grow up are grouchy and mean,” Edwin commented. He thought of his father and his brothers. A shiver crept along his shoulders. By contrast, the vicar enjoyed everything God had given him, finding delight in all creation.
“Are you talking about Captain Huddy?” Agnes asked as she stumbled into the room and yawned.
“No, not him, but he’s an excellent example,” Edwin replied.
“When did you see Captain Huddy?” Aunt Sally asked.
Agnes sat down next to the twins. “He and his men passed us last night on their way to the tavern.
“He is evidently quite fond of Mistress Hart’s pies,” Edwin noted.
“Is he now?” Aunt Sally frowned. “I’ll wager he hasn’t tried Margaret’s sweet buns.”
“Perhaps Mistress Hart has more than pies to offer,” Agnes mumbled.
The look of shock on Aunt Sally’s face had Edwin grinning from ear to ear. He forgot all about the pain in his wretched leg.
“Make another dragon,” the boys insisted in unison.
Edwin pinched and patted the dough. The boys made new worms.
Agnes yawned. “I’ll get the tea in a moment.” She rested her head on her arms.
Edwin noted her pale features and lopsided cap. “Go back upstairs and rest.”
“I have several things to fix for other people before I work on my own project…” Her words faded away and her eyes closed.
This time, before Edwin finished his dragon, the boys’ worms smashed it. They chortled with glee.
“Make one more dragon and I’ll bake it,” said Margaret. “Then Ryan and Lewis can eat it for breakfast.”
“Make two dragons,” Ryan demanded.
“Yes, yes! We usually have worms for breakfast,” Lewis said.
“Worms!” Edwin did his best to appear horrified.
“Bread worms,” said Ryan.
“Jonas eats real worms,” said Lewis.
“Ewww.” The two boys laughed in unison.
Edwin made two dragons. Margaret placed them on her wooden peel and shoveled them into the oven. The kitchen soon filled with the smell of fresh baked bread.
Margaret poured tea into the mugs and gave Agnes a shake to wake her. Agnes lifted her head and drew in a deep whiff of the hot brew. Aunt Sally handed out bowls of porridge.
“Where’s our dragons?” asked Ryan.
“They are not done baking,” Margaret explained.
“Dragons only eat people for dessert. Remember?” Edwin asked. “You get to eat your dragons for dessert.”
The boys’ faces shone with delight.
Aunt Sally sat, said a blessing, and everyone ate.
“You are good at minding the twins,” Aunt Sally commented.
Edwin chuckled. “I was a boy once, too.” He never had fun during meals at Dalfour Castle. While the food was plentiful, the stiff and formal atmosphere stifled everyone. Meals at the vicar’s house were joyous and delightful. He remembered those times with so much fondness his eyes became misty.
“Keeping an eye on the twins for me would be helpful,” she said.
“I need him in the forge.” Agnes no longer appeared exhausted. “Especially now. I’m going to make that chain and stop the Loyalists from coming this far up river.”
“It cannot work,” Aunt Sally declared.
“I do not want anything else taken from us,” Agnes insisted. “I do not want our pig shot or your house, the barn, and the forge burned to the ground. I do not want anyone else…murdered.” A tear rolled from her eye.
Edwin reached across the table and patted her hand, a gesture he deemed inadequate, but she clutched him as if he were a lifeline. Then Margaret sobbed. A second later the boys joined in—though Edwin doubted they truly understood.
Aunt Sally closed her eyes and sighed. She got up and took the sweet buns out of the oven, including the dragons.
“The dragons are done,” she said.
The boys stopped wailing.
“But they’re hot,” Edwin cautioned. “Because they’re fire-breathing dragons. You better blow on them until the fire is all gone.”
Aunt Sally set the bread creatures in front of the twins and they blew and blew and blew until their faces were red with exertion.
“Is the fire out now?” they panted.
Edwin touched each of the dragons. “Yes. They are ready to be your dessert.”
The boys merrily bit the heads off first.
Margaret wiped her eyes with her apron.
Agnes stared at her tea and bit her lip.
“Did Captain Huddy mention anything about the end of this fighting?” Aunt Sally asked quietly.
“No,” Edwin replied. “He said he and his men were harassing the British line.”
“Oh. I hoped there might be a chance for my husband to come home soon.” Aunt Sally’s lip trembled.
Edwin stared at the women’s melancholy faces. Despite their sadness, they all possessed an incredible amount of strength and shared a special bond. He recognized it because he had experienced that same connection in the vicar’s small family. Edwin’s own family had riches, but not the kind of love the McGowans enjoyed. No amount of wealth could buy this sacred possession. Agnes, her sister, and Aunt Sally worked diligently and endured hardships, but he did not doubt for a moment they garnered courage in their tasks from the Lord. Surely, His aid bore them up through their troubles.
Edwin thought of his mother and his sister with their ornate gowns and jewels, their balls and extravagant dinners. He heard them complain of boredom many times.
The life of the Duchess of Dalfour and Lady Tabitha contrasted sharply with these poor women. Agnes, her sister, and Aunt Sally would never be bored.
The boys finished devouring their dragons. “What else can you make?” they asked.
He mulled over several ideas for a moment. “I am an expert rock thrower.”
“You told me you would show me how,” Margaret reminded.
“Yes, I did. I will give you lessons,” he promised.
“We want lessons, too,” the twins begged.
“Then we will have rock throwing classes at the forge after Miss Margaret has delivered her sweet buns to the Newtons.”
Margaret and the boys clapped their hands with delight.
“The instruction time have to be short as you are supposed to be my apprentice.” Agnes stood.
“My class will be very brief, for my students will have to spend hours practicing.” Edwin stated with as much gravity as he could muster. He imitated the droll headmaster
of the beastly school he had attended. “Many hours of repetitive diligence are necessary to develop a new skill.”
“We will throw rocks all day!” The twins laughed.
“You may well be exhausted at the end of the day,” Edwin warned.
“If you wear them out, I will be grateful.” Aunt Sally sighed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Agnes’s anvil rang with the steady beat of her hammer as the broken shovel became whole again. The rusting spade belonged to a farmer who usually gave her eggs for her work. She dared to wonder if he would be willing to part with a chicken this time. While working, her mind reviewed her problems. Though she fabricated the story about Edwin being her mother’s cousin, he blended into the family so well he surprised her. When she glanced up from her task for a moment and saw him under the willow tree talking to the twins, she smiled. The boys listened in rapt attention to every word he said. Perhaps they missed their father’s presence more than anyone guessed. Or perhaps Edwin had enthralled them just as he had charmed her.
Still, his talent in handling the youngsters exceeded her expectations. Diverting their focus seemed second nature to him. Had he learned that skill in the army? Had his older brothers provided a good example for him to emulate?
Or did he have a wife and children back in England?
He had revealed few details about his life other than mentioning his brothers and boating trips on the river. He never mentioned his mother or father. She wondered why he withheld so much information. Was he hiding something? Though he had behaved with bravery and kindness, how could she trust him when she knew nothing of his personal history?
Ryan came into the forge. “Where’s Margaret?”
“We want our rock lesson,” Lewis added.
Agnes frowned and noted the length of the shadows outside. “She should be back.”
She set her work aside, pulled off her gloves and the leather apron. “I’m surprised, for she seemed anxious to learn how to throw rocks, too.”
“Jonas went with her,” said Ryan.
“He follows her everywhere.” Agnes’s pulse sped up. She should have gone with Margaret. What if those horrid Zimmer brothers had returned?
She hurried toward the inn. Edwin and the boys followed her, but with her quick strides she drew far ahead of them. A cluster of people had gathered outside the inn. Mr. Newton stood at the edge of the crowd as his wife dabbed at a bloody gash on his head.
Agnes slowed as dread clutched at her. Her limbs shook and her chest constricted, preventing her from drawing a decent breath.
Mr. Newton turned and spotted her. He took the cloth from his wife and pressed it against his wounded forehead.
“There was a skirmish. Some of the Loyalists who were here the night Colleen died put a rope around Jonas. Margaret kicked and fought with them. I tried to intervene, but they hit me with something and I blacked out. When I came to, they were gone.” His groan held both pain and sorrow. “So was Margaret.” His voice broke on a sob.
Agnes went numb. Every inch of her chilled as if the cold of winter had blown in with one sudden gust.
Edwin came up behind her. “We’ll find her.” His arms encircled her. Only his strength kept her on her feet.
Mr. Newton recovered some of his composure. “The militia’s been sent for. The sheriff, too. The neighbors will track them.”
“Ask your neighbors to put that old boat in the river,” Edwin ordered. “The Loyalists’ camp is on Sandy Hook and that’s probably where they’ve taken her. I’ll get her back.”
“They’ll shoot you as soon as look at you,” said Mr. Newton.
“They kidnapped a child, which is against their own king’s law. I will bring Margaret home,” he vowed.
* * *
By noontime, Agnes sat on a fallen log at the edge of the river. She watched as Mr. Newton and Hobart, under Edwin’s instructions, rigged up a sail for the boat. Somebody had found a pair of oars in their barn. A few women brought food. One man had several lengths of spare rope and another found an extra bucket.
She prayed silently while the gentle ripples in the water lapped rhythmically against the hull of the old boat. She knew the Lord did not bargain with people, but she wondered if just this once He would be pleased by a great self-sacrifice on her part in order to ensure Margaret’s quick return. After all, this event might be a sign that the Lord wanted her to change. If she married the miller and had a dozen children, would the Lord return Margaret? If she put away her anvil and hammer, would the Lord be mollified and send Margaret running home?
A sudden loud snort from the ox, broke her concentration. The animal did not hide his displeasure at being left in his yoke and unable to graze.
Agnes pressed both hands over her aching eyes. She had not cried. She had nothing left inside her. Desolation had taken hold and drained the life out of her.
Quite a few of the neighbors stood together in a group overseeing the boat preparations while they discussed all that had happened. Several scouts had gone off to trail the Loyalists. The militia had gathered and had marched toward the Loyalists’ encampment.
The breeze rustled overhead in the trees.
“Ja, gute,” Harlan proclaimed as the sail filled with the wind.
“It has some slow leaks.” Edwin scooped up a bucket of water and dumped it over the side. “I expected it would.”
“Can we go?” Lewis asked.
“We’ll be good,” Ryan added.
“Stay right where you are.” Aunt Sally, with tears rolling down her face, sat a few feet away from Agnes. “I never walked to the inn with her, but I never suspected any man would be such a monster. Who would hurt a child? He cannot be a man. He must be an animal.”
Aunt Sally wailed and the boys snuggled closer to her.
“Don’t cry, Mama.” Ryan’s hand patted his mother’s swollen belly.
“Cousin Edwin will get her,” Lewis stated.
Agnes did not doubt that Edwin would keep his promise and search for Margaret in the Loyalist refugee camp at Sandy Hook. However, he had used Margaret’s abduction to his own ends. He wanted that boat in the water and he needed many hands and strong backs to get it there.
In approaching the camp, he risked significant peril. He no longer wore a uniform and might be mistaken for the foe instead of a loyal subject of the king. However, if he succeeded in landing at Sandy Hook, she knew he would remain with his own people.
Nevertheless, despite all his efforts, the terrible possibility existed that Margaret would not be in the camp.
Jagged thoughts ripped through Agnes, enveloping her in grief. She struggled to kill the sob rising in her throat. She must not fall apart.
She clenched her hands into fists, stood, and walked to the riverbank. “I’m coming with you.” The scratchy rasp in her throat hurt.
Edwin lifted his eyes to hers. “No. This will be dangerous.”
She met his look without flinching. “She is my sister.”
“What if she is hurt? What if she is not there?”
His jaw jutted forward with determination, but she met his challenge.
“I will not be a hindrance. If we find her, Margaret will need me.” She moved to step into the boat. Hobart gave her a hand.
“You do not know how to swim.” His relentless glare bored into her.
“I will bail out the water so the boat does not sink.” She picked up the bucket and proceeded to scoop up as much water as possible. She emptied it overboard.
“Geh mit gott.” Hobart shoved the boat out into the river.
Ryan and Lewis waved forlornly as they continued their attempts to comfort their mother.
Mr. Newton and the neighbors waved, too. The boat moved along with the current and panic rose in Agnes’s throat.
Then the sail fluttered uselessly as the breeze slackened.
“Watch your head,” Edwin ordered.
She ducked as he brought a beam around. The cloth fitted to the beam filled with the
wind. Within a few minutes, the boat sped along at a brisk pace. Agnes had never traveled at such a speed. The banks of the river slid by so quickly, she found herself growing lightheaded, but she focused on bailing out the water which gathered around her feet. She refused to allow any fear to show in her expression. She forced her features to remain calm even while her nerves coiled tightly inside her.
The river twisted and turned like a snake in the salt marshes. She continually had to duck as Edwin swung the sail into another position when they rounded a bend. His strong arms pulled at the ropes and held the rudder, guiding the skiff gracefully through the current. He seemed to belong on the water. He had suffered and struggled with his grievous wound. He had hobbled painfully about on the crutches, but now he became a swan, silently gliding along with no apparent effort.
“Perhaps you should join the navy,” she suggested.
“I heard the army had better rations,” he said. “But that was a lie.”
She nodded. “My father was promised a hundred acres of land for enlisting. Uncle Fitz, too, of course. They want to raise horses when the war is over and they get their extra acres.”
“Horses are majestic animals, strong and beautiful.” His face took on a wistful expression and her throat tightened painfully. He was handsome and good. The harsh reality of losing him forever embedded itself in her soul. When had his presence become so important to her? Had that one stolen kiss changed everything?
No. Many things had endeared him to her heart.
He believed his responsibility lay with his sovereign. Compelled to do what she perceived as right, she did not regret caring for Edwin, but she wished she did not have to lose him. Especially now when she had come to rely on him.
She firmed her resolve. She must not think about him. If she thought about him leaving her forever, she would collapse in a useless heap when she needed every ounce of her strength.
At the moment, nothing mattered except finding Margaret. She should not lose hope. She prayed for Margaret’s safety. She refused to allow herself to consider anything else but a joyous reunion with her sister.
Unexpectedly, the river widened and the marshes gave way to tree-covered hillsides, green pastures, and large homes.
Patriot's Heart Page 14
