Bessie grinned. “Mmm-hmm. That is what I thought. And that is exactly why you must eat with us tonight.” She swished her skirts. “So there, Jeremiah Stewart.”
“I have work to do, Bessie—you know that. Wait. You do not know, do you?”
“Know what?”
Jeremiah told her about David Williamson’s election as commander. “You remember that I mentioned in my letters that he sometimes does crazy things?”
“So?”
“Believe me, Bess, I feel awkward about this, and I do not like it one bit.”
“Tell me what it is.” Her voice grew in pitch.
“Are you sure?” Jeremiah couldn’t help dragging out the suspense as he’d done in their childhood.
“As sure as I am that if God does not hold this against you on your judgment day, I will. Let me hear it.”
“Well,” he drawled, “if you insist.”
Bessie stomped a foot. “Now, Jer!”
He chuckled at her aggravation. “Williamson came up with this notion to make me a county lieutenant.”
Bessie was never this quiet.
“Did you hear me?”
Bessie glanced around. “But you are … how in God’s great world did he pick you?” Despite her disbelief, pride shone in her eyes. “How could he do that? I mean, you are not even … I thought all you did was deliver messages.”
Jeremiah hooked his thumbs into the pockets on his jacket. “Williamson does anything he sets his mind to. I believe, dear sister, his exact words were, ‘This is my county and I will…’ oh, never mind. Suffice it to say that the colonel can do pretty much whatever he wants.”
“Then you are definitely coming to eat with us tonight. Anyone with such high rank must be properly fed in order to work at his best. I will be able to brag to your nieces and nephews someday that I fed their uncle, the next commander of the Washington County Militia. Supper is at six o’clock. My house.”
“I will not be the next commander,” Jeremiah began. “I only have a few months left, and—”
His words fell on deaf ears. Bessie was waltzing away, her hand wrapped around little Samuel’s. Jeremiah wasn’t upset with Bessie. She always acted this way when she considered a conversation finished.
As he watched them walk away, his heart ached for the youngster at Bessie’s side. Perhaps he should have made more of an effort to get the child to say something? No, if Bessie had thought that necessary, she would have seen to it. She always knew when to push and when to leave things alone. Jeremiah admired that in his sister.
Perhaps it wasn’t so bad having Bessie for a sister after all. She just might put a few pounds on his slender frame!
“Is the pie ready yet, Sarah?” Bessie dashed around the tiny area she considered the “eating room.”
“Yes. I tossed a dash of sugar on top before I took it out. It looks as good as it smells.”
Sarah finished placing plates, utensils, and tea-filled mugs on the table. She was glad it was almost time to eat, for Bessie had been a bundle of nerves all day. Sarah didn’t know what her part in the evening was to be. Since she was indebted to the Halls for giving her and Samuel a place to stay, she would do her best to not embarrass them.
“Could you get the door?” Bessie called. “Our company has arrived. I am not able to leave the stove.”
“On my way,” Sarah assured her, smoothing the front of the dark blue dress Bessie had foisted on her.
Sarah fixed a welcoming smile on her face and swung open the door. The man who’d been so kind as to show her to the trading post filled the doorframe.
“You? What are you doing here?” Sarah spouted.
Jeremiah swept his hat off and bowed. “Good evening, Mrs. Lyons. Of course it is me. Whom did you expect?”
“Bessie … er, Mrs. Hall, did not tell me who was coming,” Sarah admitted.
Jeremiah chuckled. “That sounds like my sister.”
“You are Bessie’s brother?” Land sakes, she found it hard to concentrate when those gray eyes of Jeremiah’s stared at her.
“For the last twenty-three years,” he confirmed.
“But she never mentioned …” Sarah peered around him. “Where is your wife? Will she be along later? She is not ill, is she?”
Jeremiah gave a short chuckle. “I take it Bessie has not told you much about me.”
“Such as?”
“I am not married.” Jeremiah’s tone was suddenly sharp, as if he didn’t want to talk about it.
That was fine with Sarah. The subject of marriage didn’t appeal to her either. I have no ties to anyone. The words echoed in Sarah’s mind.
“I am sorry,” Sarah murmured, wondering why the fact that he had no mate seemed to stick in her mind.
“Sorry I am not married?” Jeremiah stepped in, pausing to scrape his boots across a rug. “I have nothing against those who choose to wed. It is just that I have decided that marriage is not for me.”
Bessie’s entrance saved Sarah from having to comment.
Chapter 5
Jeremiah hugged Bessie and murmured a greeting. “You get prettier each time I see you, sis,” he remarked.
Bessie laughed. “That is because there is more of me, Jeremiah. I am so glad you finally get to meet Sarah.” Bessie gazed between the two of them.
Jeremiah gave Sarah a friendly smile. “Actually, I met Mrs. Lyons the other day when she searched for the trading post.”
“‘A nice young militiaman,’” Bessie muttered, her eyes moving between Sarah and Jeremiah.
Jeremiah studied Bessie. “Why did you not tell her I was your brother?”
Bessie shrugged. “I suppose there were too many things going on, with the move and all. I have to sit down; my feet are killing me.” She plodded away.
Jeremiah shook his head. Bessie is about to play matchmaker again, and if I’m not wrong, the pretty young widow is oblivious to Bessie’s scheme.
As Jeremiah trailed after Bessie, he reminded himself that he wasn’t looking for commitments. His memories of Jenny served quite well to fill his lonely hours.
“Jer? Would you mind …” Bessie glanced over his shoulder. “Where is Sarah?”
“She scooted down the hall as soon as you came in here, Bess. If I did not know better, I would say she does not want to be around me.”
Bessie finished stirring a pan of gravy and tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pan. “Nonsense, Jer. Sarah needs to be around people like you. That is exactly why we brought her here. Someone has to help her get over those appalling memories she carries.”
“If you do not keep your voice down, she will hear you,” Jeremiah cautioned.
“Perhaps that would be best.”
Jeremiah spun a fork in a circle. “There are some things you cannot force people to forget, Bess.”
“And as you well know, there are some people you cannot force into doing what is right for them.”
“Well, that settles that.” Jeremiah grinned. “You cannot fool me, Bessie. That look in your eyes says you think we can help each other get over our grief.”
“I would never encourage two people to get to know each other if they are not good for each other,” Bessie stated.
Jeremiah feigned surprise. “Let me guess. You think Mrs. Lyons and I would make a handsome couple.”
Bessie shook the utensil in her hand at him. “What is wrong with that? You think there will never be a woman to take Jenny’s place. You are right, Jer, but you cannot spend your life looking for a copy of the woman you loved. You have to accept the one that the Lord sends. Even I know that.”
“I do not believe there is anyone out there who could take Jenny’s place, Bess. But should Mrs. Lyons ever feel the need to divulge her troubles, my shoulders are broad enough to take whatever she wants to share.”
“Captain said much the same thing. So far Sarah has not shared much about what happened to her, so I cannot say what she will think of your offer. It does make me feel better though.”
Good thing it helped his sister, because Jeremiah didn’t like the way Sarah had already woven herself into his thoughts. If he didn’t watch it, he’d be first in line to do as Bessie asked, to help Sarah get beyond her pain. He might not like it, but he was a soldier, at least for another few months. He didn’t have time for a woman, especially one that did not seem impressed with him.
Bessie put aside Sarah’s concern about joining them for the evening meal by saying, “Samuel did not take a nap today. He will be fine playing all by himself. I took a plate back to him and he seems quite happy. Quit worrying about him.”
Sarah thanked Captain for holding her chair and listened as he offered the blessing. She added a silent plea of her own that she would not say something humiliating. The aroma of steaming beef and buttered potatoes soon filled the small room.
Sarah listened to the others converse about the growing tensions. She wished she’d paid more attention before when Bessie spoke about the war.
How was I to know I would end up sitting next to a soldier? I don’t want to impress him anyway, she fumed to herself.
The evening meal passed with laughter and smiles passing between Bessie and Jeremiah. It was obvious that they’d grown up in a house full of love and that both had missed seeing each other over the last few years.
Captain finished eating and pushed his plate aside. “I believe I have forgotten to congratulate you on your promotion, Jeremiah.”
Jeremiah sighed. “I will be honest. I do not like what Colonel Williamson did one bit.”
“He must have had a good reason to choose you,” Captain said. “I cannot imagine he would put just anyone in such a delicate position.”
“He said he needed someone the men could trust, that I was one of the few who could read and write. Still …”
“But that speaks highly of you, Jeremiah. From what I have heard, Williamson’s word is law in these parts, so there is no chance anyone will rebut what he has done.”
“Only Major Whelp, who is gone right now.”
“It does not sound as if you can change the way things are,” Captain said. “If you do not feel comfortable with the task given you, I trust you are praying?”
“Daily,” Jeremiah commented. “I am committed to staying until the end of December. I know I cannot walk away from the job because that would leave everything in an uproar. Besides, there are several messages recently that have come in about the Praying Indians. Someone has to deal with them.”
Sarah’s spoon clattered to the floor. She dove toward it before Jeremiah could assist, but she felt his eyes follow her every move as she recovered it.
Captain went on as if he hadn’t noticed. “Sometimes the demands of the job are discomforting, especially when we feel unprepared to handle them. I imagine there is someone who is helping you learn the way things are done.”
Jeremiah nodded. “Rufe Putter, the colonel’s clerk. We have become close friends since we started working together.”
“Ah, yes. Rufe. I met him shortly after we got here,” Captain said. “He seems to be a wise, though sometimes immature, fellow. As far as the militia is concerned, I am sure he knows things that you do not.”
“He seems to,” Jeremiah concurred.
“Sounds to me as if you are afraid of responsibility,” Sarah blurted out. She munched on the inside of her cheek. Will anyone notice if I climb under the table?
Jeremiah’s mouth curved in a small smile. “Perhaps wary would be a better choice of words, Mrs. Lyons. There are so many things to keep straight, I am worried that I might forget something important.”
“Call her Sarah, Jer. That other sounds so stuffy.”
Sarah jerked her glance across the table, where Bessie primped one side of her upswept hair, oblivious to Sarah’s discomfort.
“May I?”
Sarah snapped her head toward Jeremiah. “Sarah will be fine,” she said tersely.
“Then you must call me Jeremiah.”
“I will,” she agreed. There were few with whom she was close enough to use their first names. The thought of such familiarity settled within Sarah like lead.
Jeremiah’s gaze held hers. “I believe Sarah was Abraham’s wife’s name.”
“Good point, Jeremiah,” Captain said. “I admire the Old Testament Sarah’s patience while she waited for the Lord to bless her.”
“Amen to that,” Bessie seconded. “It is my opinion that the Lord provides exactly what we need when we need it. We only need to accept what He sends.”
“What do you think, Sarah?”
Jeremiah sounded sincere, but he gazed at her as if she’d sprouted carrot tops behind her ears. Sarah patted her hair. All seemed well, but why were her fingers shaking?
“Yes, that Sarah was a rare woman,” the present-day Sarah concurred. She regretted that she did not recall much about Abraham’s wife. It had been so long since she had actively studied God’s Word, that much of what she knew had withered away. Her heart flinched uncomfortably.
Over the next few hours Sarah listened as Bessie and Jeremiah shared more stories from their childhood. She refilled coffee mugs and sat quietly until Captain exhorted Jeremiah to tell what he could of events in Washington County. When Jeremiah spoke of a few incidents and politely skimmed over the barbarity involved, Sarah’s soul experienced anew the devastation associated with the Indian attacks. She chewed on her bottom lip to keep from saying anything.
“Some say the Praying Indians in Ohio are the ones we must keep an eye on,” Jeremiah finished.
“But they … What makes you think it is them?” Sarah knew she should not have spoken so forcefully, but she couldn’t help it. She knew some of those people. They were Christians. How could anyone suspect them of murderous deeds?
“There are several reasons that I cannot discuss right now,” Jeremiah responded.
Sarah kept her voice even. “I refuse to believe that those Praying Indians are responsible for attacking innocent white families.”
“Why do you say that?” Jeremiah challenged.
“Because … well, I just do,” Sarah said. “Do not ask me to explain.” She grabbed her plate and fled to the washroom.
A few moments later Bessie joined Sarah by the washbasin. She laid a friendly hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “Are you all right? You look peaked. Let me do this.”
Sarah shoved food scraps from the dinner plate into a bucket. “I will be fine, Bessie. It is you who should be resting. You have been humming with activity all day long.”
“I understand,” Bessie said. “I will leave you alone.”
“How could you understand,” Sarah murmured to Bessie’s departing back, “when not even I do sometimes?”
For the next few days no one spoke of Sarah’s outburst, which made her feel worse. She and Sammy played together, went on walks, and searched for shapes in the clouds. No matter where she went, there was always another family to remind Sarah of her personal situation.
Sarah desperately wished God had taken their home and spared her husband. She was thankful she and Sammy had not perished, but … why had Levi been killed?
Sarah pushed the depressing thoughts away. If she continued to think about her loss, she would end up in tears. She found her mind returning to the night Jeremiah visited.
There was no excuse for her outburst at Jeremiah. He was a visitor, and Bessie’s brother, not to mention someone whose job it was to protect the settlers. Sarah was in Washington County to make things better for her son. Jeremiah did not mean any harm when he had discussed the Praying Indians. He was just passing on information. But he was a member of the militia. If the militia suspected the Praying Indians of the attacks, Sarah must be careful to avoid appearing too concerned about them. If people thought she sympathized with a band of redskins, who knew what would happen to her plans to build a new life for Sammy?
Jeremiah watched Sarah and her son as they walked along the riverbank. Though it had been a week since he’d last seen Sarah, his heart st
irred at the sight of her.
It is not fair to Jenny’s memory, Jeremiah warned. His heart didn’t listen. While he watched Samuel tossing handfuls of leaves on Sarah’s head, Jeremiah let his heart dream … of a day when he might stand with Sarah and laugh with her as Samuel played. Of a time when he might be able to—
“Mr. Stewart?”
The closeness of Sarah’s voice jerked Jeremiah out of his reverie.
“Good day, Sarah,” he said, striving to sound unaffected by her presence. “Are you enjoying our beautiful fall weather?”
“Yes,” she replied. “We went by the trading post, but there are still no jobs available. I thought I would bring Sammy out to get some fresh air.”
“I know how demanding a move can be. Are you getting settled?”
Sarah patted her son’s head. “We are. And Sammy has not had any trouble sleeping as I feared he would.”
“By the way, I thought we agreed last week that you would call me Jeremiah.”
“So we did.” Sarah leaned down and adjusted Samuel’s sleeves, apparently wanting time to think.
“I am glad you did not have trouble on the trail on the way here,” Jeremiah commented. “There are so many dangers out there, and running into warriors would tend to make a trip quite troublesome.”
Sarah’s shoulders stiffened. Compassion for her washed over Jeremiah. No, he warned his heart sternly. Keep your distance.
Sarah rose and studied him. “It has been my experience that some heathens are good people. Or are you one of those who blame all of them for the actions of a few?”
“I do not blame an entire tribe for something a few renegades do,” Jeremiah responded. “If you knew half of what I do, you would realize that there are several tribes who will use any excuse they can to attack whites who may or may not have done anything to them.”
“Has anyone ever asked them why they go after helpless families?”
“Usually there is no time to ask that question,” Jeremiah replied. “They are too intent on retribution for what the British have convinced them is unfair treatment by us pioneers.”
“Well, I suppose as a militiaman you must do your duty, regardless of the facts.”
The Memory of Love Page 19
