"She had a diagram of Fort Pitt on her person, and--"
"A diagram! Surely that is damning evidence, but she doesn't sound French."
"She doesn't have to be French," Christian said. "Look at all the Englishmen--and women--who'd sell their souls for a few pounds."
"Then you must turn her over to the authorities at Fort Pitt," Daniel said. "They'll know how to deal with her."
"I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, for now, at least," Christian said. "Like you, I loathe treason, but you know what her fate will be if she's found guilty...hanged, drawn and quartered, or burned at the stake."
Gwen drew a deep breath, running shaky fingers down her thighs. How could she prove her innocence? She pressed her fist to her dry mouth. God, how?
"Aye, you have a point there," Daniel said. "The British do employ dire punishments for traitors. But let's not forget--the French will do anything to reclaim their holdings in America. I wouldn't put it past 'em to use a woman to gain information."
"Let us wait and see," Christian said. "There may be a perfectly innocent explanation for her possession of the diagram. I'll admit I'm having trouble understanding her interest in the fort. Believe me, I'll not wait forever to find out. 'Tis difficult to realize she may be serving the French."
"Women have oftimes served as spies," Daniel said. "I'll keep a close watch on her. You, too. Now, if I'm not mistaken, breakfast is about ready. We'll talk on this again soon."
Gwen spun away from the door and scooted back up the stairs, then slowly descended, as if she'd just risen. She'd have to leave for her search after breakfast and make sure no one followed her. So the good doctor thought she was a French spy. After today, he wouldn't have to think about her at all, because she'd be out of his life forever...if she were lucky.
And luck had better be with her. Otherwise...she refused to consider the consequences.
* * *
"The little 'uns is sick, too," Simon Fletcher told Christian several hours later, "and my wife," he added.
Christian glanced across the cramped room of Simon's log house. In the corner, a woman lay on the floor with three young children on a worn, dirty blanket. His gaze swung back to the settler, noting the dark blotches on the man's bony frame, the rotting teeth, all the while trying to ignore the man's fetid breath.
The smell of rancid bacon clung to the walls. The place reeked of rotten food and spoiled milk. Rats must be a problem, too, Christian thought as he observed a crudely-printed note in a corner telling the rats to leave the house and go bother the Beams.
"Didn't I tell you on my last visit you should feed your family green vegetables?" Christian asked.
"Vegetables! We eat potatoes and turnips, and that's all the vegetables I have room to grow."
"I said green vegetables. That's what you need to cure your scurvy. Strawberries do well in this soil, too. Why don't you grow 'em?"
"Now you're talkin' silly, Doctor. Ain't got no room on my land for such foolish things as strawberries. I need all the space for crops that make money, like rye. Soon's I get the chance, I'm gonna turn my rye crop into whiskey, and look at the money I'll get on the market for that." He snorted. "Strawberries!”
"You and your family will never get better unless you eat a proper diet. You need--"
"Meat! We gets meat from all the animals in the woods." Simon swayed on his feet and slumped against the wall as he grabbed a chairback for balance.
"Meat won't cure the affliction you and your family suffer from," Christian said, keeping a careful eye on the farmer, afraid he'd fall. "If you won't help yourself, won't you at least think of your wife and children? I can't perform miracles."
"This sickness has somethin' ta do with what we eat?"
"What have I been saying!" Christian retreated a few paces to escape the man's spittle. He threw another sympathetic glance at the wife and children who moaned listlessly on the blanket. "I can bring you kale from my own garden on my next visit here. Mayhap I can get you lemons or oranges whenever I go to the trading post, although they are oftimes difficult to come by."
"Ain't got no money for such foolishness."
Christian slammed his fist on the table, rattling a week's accumulation of dirty dishes. "This so-called foolishness will cure you and your family. I never saw such pig-headed obstinance or willful ignorance in my life. Good God, man, what does it take to make you understand?"
He pointed a finger at him. "If you don't care about your own health, that's your business. But I'll be damned if I'll see your wife and children suffer. When I return in a few days, I want to see an improvement in your family's diet." He paused, turning to leave. "And if you decide to follow my advice for your own sake, so much the better."
He strode toward the door and flung it open, then stepped outside, blinking his eyes in the bright sunshine. The weather had turned warmer within the past few hours, the trees and fields rich with springtime growth. Wasting no time, Christian mounted his horse and headed along the narrow forest path.
After a ride of several miles through the dark trees and undergrowth, he came to another log house, larger and more substantial than most, the surrounding acres well-cultivated with a large variety of newly-planted crops. He tied the reins to an oak branch, then strode toward the front door.
A pretty girl of about eighteen with golden skin and raven hair greeted him. "Christian! This is a pleasant surprise. What brings you here today? Come in, come in!"
Stepping inside, Christian smiled at Leah in her trim gray dress. "A man likes to visit a pretty lady now and then." A lady who has remained unmarried, his confused thoughts continued, asking himself why some fortunate man hadn't claimed her. His glance took in the neat common room, the well-ordered fireplace, the handsome oaken table and chairs. The aroma of baking bread rose from the oven, blending with the rich scent of roasting turkey.
Blushing, Leah swept a lock of hair back from her forehead. "Would you like tea?" She indicated for him to sit at a long trestle table while she spoke in a rush. "Pa went to the woods to shoot game, and Ma took a loaf of fresh bread to Agnes Morrell. Poor woman. She needs help since her husband died, and suffering from the ague, too."
"I shall be sure to see her on my way back." He rested his elbow on the table, then stretched his booted feet out, thankful to sit in a chair after hours in the saddle. "Possibly I can help cure her ague. And that reminds me. The Fletchers all suffer from the scurvy. Do you suppose you could spare your servant girl to help them clean up and such? Only for a day or two." "Yes, of course." Leah brushed her hand across her apron. "Did you say you'd like tea?"
"I didn't say, but yes, I would, Leah." He took a long look at the young woman, wondering why she didn't hold the same attraction for him she once did. Why did a young lady with tawny hair and blue-green eyes intrude on his thoughts? Gwen Emrys meant nothing to him. He didn't even know where she came from. And he wondered if she knew where she came from.
"Here we are." Leah set two earthenware cups of hot tea on the table and took a chair opposite him. Fingering a lappet of her mobcap, she gave him a hesitant look. "Heard you had a visitor t'other day," she said in a low voice.
"Well, well. How news gets around. What, exactly, did you hear, and from whom did you hear it?"
"Rachel Beam saw you when she was gathering herbs near the meadow. Said you had a strange lady on a horse. Who is she, Christian, and where is she from?"
Christian took a slow sip of tea. He and Leah had been friends since childhood, so he forgave her inquisitiveness. "You want to know the truth, Leah? I don't know where she's from. Says her name is Gwendolyn Emrys, but her speech is foreign--"
"Foreign? You mean French?"
"Nay, that's the strange thing about her. I cannot place her speech. She gave me a fanciful story about being in a restored village, whatever that means. So where is she from?" Christian lifted his hands in a futile gesture. "I don't know."
Leah raised the cup to her mouth. "She sounds tr
uly odd."
"Aye, but more than that. I think there's something she's hiding, something suspicious, and I intend to find out." Christian set his cup down and grinned in warm companionability. "Why are we discussing strange ladies? Pray tell me, you'll attend the frolic at the Chamberlains, won't you? 'Tis only a few weeks away."
Leah's face broke into a smile. "I'm looking forward to it. Are you going?"
"But of course." Christian gave her a steady look, his words full of promise. "And I want to dance all night with the prettiest lady there."
* * *
She should have known this was a stupid idea. Ignoring Christian's admonition about snakes, Gwen sat on a large rock in a meadow that bordered the Youghiogheny River. She said the syllables to herself. Yock-a-gan-y: "stream that runs a roundabout course." Covered with scratches, her feet tired and sore, she stared across the river where budding oaks and hickories clustered on the far bank. The tree-dotted hills stretched back as far as she could see, crowned by low-lying cumulus clouds. Gwen watched the twists and turns of the river as the foaming waters rushed over rocks and boulders.
Wearing the moccasins Rebecca had lent her, since her sandals were too flimsy for a walk in the woods, she'd hiked for miles back to Christian's, wasting two hours when she'd lost the trail. Finally reaching her destination, a desperate touch to the oak tree had yielded no results. Nichts, zilch, nada.
If she followed the river, would it lead her home? Suddenly aware the gushing water muted every other sound, she turned her head in all directions, afraid a wolf or bear might attack from behind.
Now, Christian and Daniel would think she'd gone to Fort Pitt to glean military information for the French. A sick feeling settled in her stomach, thoughts of the English punishments for treason a constant worry. She ran trembling fingers through her hair, her stomach churning with fear. How could she prove her innocence?
She swatted at a mosquito that had been pestering her for the past fifteen minutes . . .and missed. After removing her shoes, she left the dubious comfort of the rock and hiked her dress up to splash across the river's shallow edge, heading for a boulder where she could sit and let the cool water bubble over her aching feet. She winced at the rock-strewn river bottom but found the ice-cold water refreshing, just the same. The cool breeze bathed her face and lifted her hair from her shoulders, giving her a brief respite from her troubles.
So what am I going to do now? she fretted as she splashed her feet in the water. Where else shall I look?
The sun rose higher in a brilliant blue sky, reflecting on the river in silvery flashes. Sighing with exhaustion, she decided she'd better return, although she hurt in every muscle. She wasn't looking forward to walking the remainder of the way. She was a little out of shape, she realized now, reminding herself to go running more often.
Determined to forget her soreness, she struggled to rise and splashed back across the river, her hem dripping with water.
Fears mounting, she wrung her hands. Would she ever get back home?
Chapter Four
Twisting and turning her head, Gwen glanced around the meadow at all the people who'd gathered for the church service. Hard to believe that only last week, she'd been a schoolteacher in the twenty-first century, a time when cars, dryers, and dishwashers were taken for granted.
Along with the Chamberlains and Molly,she had joined the other settlers in this large sunlit clearing, a peaceful place where everyone made themselves as comfortable as possible on sawed-off logs serving as pews. Worn patches on the grass gave evidence of constant trampling by faithful, steady churchgoers.
After one more glance at all the settlers, she turned to Molly. "Every woman here is dressed in blue," she said in surprise.
"We all wear blue on Sunday," Molly said with a why-didn't-you-know-that expression.
"How come?"
Molly shrugged. "Don't know. It's just the color for Sunday."
"Oh."
She craned her neck and saw Christian on a log several rows ahead of her, to her right. He looked drop-dead gorgeous in his white shirt and black breeches, his burnished skin glowing in the bright sunshine. Those twenty-first century men with their tight jeans had nothing on him. As if aware of her scrutiny, he looked behind him and smiled at her.
For some inexplicable reason, her heart beat a little faster.
Perched on one of the hard, backless logs, Gwen twisted her fingers in her lap. How would she ever manage if she had to live in this time for the rest of her life, a time without modern dentistry or indoor plumbing, or even a blow dryer? One way or another, she'd escape this time and place. So she'd struck out on her first attempt to return to her own time. She'd try and try again.
How could women spend their time sewing, cleaning, baking, washing clothes and all the other jobs that demand every spare minute of their time? Only yesterday, she and Rebecca had spent hours mending clothes and hemming dresses for the children, a time-consuming, monotonous job. But it was her way of repaying Rebecca and Daniel for all they'd done for her, even though she wished she could do more.
This Sunday morning, she'd dressed simply in her borrowed blue calico dress and plain leather shoes. A simple straw hat--also borrowed--topped her head; no frills or fripperies allowed on this solemn day.
Gwen tried hard to forget her worries, tried to convince herself that Christian wouldn't seriously consider her a spy. No, all she had to do was prove she'd come from the future. Would he believe her? Not a chance!
All talk ceased when the minister's voice boomed over the meadow. He doesn't even need a microphone, Gwen thought. In his black suit and pristine white shirt, he looked as she imagined an eighteenth-century preacher would look, stern and uncompromising.
"My sermon today is from the Book of Joel," he intoned, his steely glance moving from one congregant to another. Long gray hair and dark piercing eyes reminded Gwen of a painting she'd seen of Moses coming down from the mount.
"'Alas for the day! for the day of the Lord is at hand, and as a destruction from the Almighty shall it come.'"
Babies whimpered in their mothers' arms and young children grew restless while the Reverend Endicott preached on the penalty for sin. Here and there mothers, their bodices unlaced, breast-fed their babies, then set them on their shoulders to burp them. Men got up from the log pews to pace and ease their aching backs, talking quietly among themselves.
"'Blow ye the trumpet in Zion, and sound an alarm in my holy mountain..."
Her bottom numb from sitting on the hard log, Gwen changed her position. How much longer would this sermon last? She glanced at her wrist, then remembered her watch languished at a jewelry store for repair, back in her own time. Damn!
She sneaked a look at Christian and saw an expression of stoic endurance on his face. Same here, Christian!
"Papa!" Robert cried as he jumped up and down on Daniel's knees. "Let us go home, Papa."
"Shh, Robert." With Robert in his arms, Daniel got up from his seat and walked back and forth between rows, speaking quiet words to the fidgety child. Gwen rose slightly and gave Daniel a questioning look, willing to hold Robert if Daniel wanted her to, but he merely smiled and shook his head. No doubt he's used to this, she realized as she settled back down on the log. The sermon ended, and the minister closed the Bible to lead the congregation in prayer.
Thank goodness that's over, Gwen mused, a bit ashamed of her irreverence. Boy, was she hungry after that long sermon. Now they could all eat and return to Winiaken. Grabbing the picnic basket, she followed the Chamberlains to a grassy spot where they'd rest and have lunch. Everyone else got up from the logs to stretch sore muscles and chat with their neighbors.
Byrony reached for her hand, a sweet smile on her face. "Come with me, Gwen. You'll sit with us, won't you?"
She bent low to hug the little girl. "Of course! I wouldn't want to sit with anyone else." Robert traipsed on ahead, clutching his father's hand. Neighbors greeted them along the way, a questioning look on their faces w
hen they observed Gwen.
"We have a friend staying with us." After introductions, Rebecca offered the same explanation to everyone, and it seemed to satisfy even the most curious.
Kneeling on the cold, dewy grass, Gwen helped Rebecca unpack the basket while Daniel took the children by the hand and walked them over to the stream. All around her, others unpacked baskets, giving her hesitant smiles as they caught her gaze on them.
Rebecca drew wooden bowls from the basket and set them on the ground. "Christian looks nice today, does he not?" she remarked with a watchful glance at Gwen. "Quite the proper gentleman, I should say."
"Definitely." 'Quite the proper gentleman' was not how Gwen would describe him. Sexy was more like it.
Well, guess who! Gwen looked up and saw Christian approach, making her wonder if he could read her mind. Too bad if he could, because day after day, he dominated her thoughts, more than she wanted to admit.
He crouched down beside them, flashing them both a friendly smile. "'Tisn't every day that a man has the opportunity to see two of the prettiest ladies around at the same time."
Relief flooded her. Christian didn't appear angry or suspicious with her, so maybe he'd forgotten his doubts. She could hope, anyway.
"And 'tisn't every day we get compliments from such a fine gentleman," Rebecca said while Gwen kept silent, aware she was behaving like an awkward schoolgirl. "You will ride home with us and join us for the evening meal, will you not?" Rebecca asked. "You know how we enjoy your company."
"If you're sure 'tis no trouble," he said with a cautious look in Gwen's direction. Even in the sunlight, his eyes appeared dark and unreadable. She tried to guess what was going through his mind. Was he thinking of her? In your dreams! Like a magnet, his long sexy eyelashes drew her gaze. Odd how something that might be considered an admirable feminine trait could look so sensual on a man.
"We will see you then after the service," Rebecca said to Christian, snapping Gwen out of her reverie.
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