"I'm not ready for it to end," she whispered fervently. "Not yet."
The wind rose, and a cold draft seeped through a crack in the logs. Sarah added more wood to the fire and returned to her stool.
"If only things were different," she murmured to the hound bitch. Both dogs lay at her feet, the sleeping pups piled on top of them.
Sarah rubbed the top of Flirt's head and let her hand trail down to trace the ugly red scar the bullet wound had left. "We came close to losing you, didn't we, girl?" she said. The dog whined and nuzzled Sarah's ankle with her wet nose.
For a long time, Sarah sat before the crackling fire in silence. No matter how many times she wrestled with the problem in her mind, the answer was always the same. She had no right to risk Joshua's future because she had fallen in love with a chestnut-haired stranger. No matter how much she longed to tell Forest the truth about her husband's death, she couldn't. If it weren't for Joshua . . .
A single tear spilled from the corner of Sarah's eye and rolled down her cheek. "Damn Obediah Turner," she whispered. "Damn you to everlasting hellfire for leaving my son in Isaac's care."
Jerking upright, she ripped the letters in half and consigned them to the flames. "Burn," she said. "Burn, damn you."
"Sarah!" A muffled voice came through the door, followed by a heavy knocking. "Sarah, open the door."
The dogs jumped up and began to bark. Recognizing Forest's voice, she threw open the door.
He stomped into the room, covered with snow, and took off his cape as Sarah closed the door behind him and the dogs barked excitedly.
"Down, Rock. Quiet," Sarah commanded. "Hush up, it's only Forest."
"Only Forest?" he chided. "Only Forest?" Laughing, he caught her around the waist and lifted her off the floor. Her arms went around his neck, and her lips parted to receive his eager kiss.
"You're all snow," she protested when he set her down again. His cheeks were red and his hair was frosted with glistening snowflakes.
He ran a hand through the wind-blown locks and looked around the room. "Where's Joshua?"
"In bed."
He grinned. "Good."
She went to the hearth and poured him a cup of mulled cider, using the tip of the poker to heat the liquid to near boiling. "There was another letter, like the first," she said, holding out the mug to him.
Forest frowned. "Bennett told me."
"It was exactly the same. Same paper . . . same handwriting. I burned it."
"You what?" He started, spilling a little of the hot cider on his hand. "Ouch! Why did you burn the letter?"
Sarah shrugged. "It was sent to frighten me."
"You should have let me read it," he blew on the cider and took a sip. "There might have been something more—"
"No." She shook her head firmly. "I told you, it was the same. I held them both together. It was a copy of the first."
"What do you want to do?"
She gazed at him serenely. "I want to go to bed with you, and I want you to hold me in your arms. I want to lie there snug and warm and listen to the wind and the snow."
He took a step toward her. "Is that all?" he asked huskily. "Is that all you want?"
Sarah held out her hands in invitation and took a step backward. "And you," she murmured. "What do you want, Forest?"
He set the cup down on the table and smiled. "I want you."
Laughing, she turned and dashed into the bedchamber. Forest paused long enough to blow out the candle before he followed her.
Chapter Fourteen
Black Water Peril
By morning the storm had passed on, leaving a good eight inches of snow. When the sun came out in early afternoon, Sarah joined Joshua and Gideon and the dogs in the farmyard. The three of them romped and rolled in the snow and built a pirate galleon in full sail beside the well.
Forest and the post rider had remained inside the tavern after the noon meal, taking advantage of the opportunity to exchange news of the war. Although Forest was eager to hear whatever Bennett could tell him about the British troops and Washington's situation at Valley Forge, he had been drawn by the shouts and laughter coming from the yard.
Finally, when Forest could stand it no longer, he joined them. "Can anyone enlist in your navy?" he asked, pointing to the snow ship.
Sarah gave him a dazzling smile. Her lips and cheeks glowed red from the cold. Wisps of dark hair peeked from under her hood, and her breath made little white puffs in the frigid air. Sarah's thick, curling lashes framed her sparkling gray eyes in a way that made Forest's pulse quicken.
I've never seen her more beautiful, he thought. Dressed in a cloak of blue wool, her hands covered with sheepskin mittens, she reminded him of the Snow Princess in a book of fairy tales his mother had read him when he was a child. "Sarah?"
Her gray eyes flashed with mischief just before she drew back her arm and flung the snowball at him as hard as she could. He ducked, but not quickly enough. The snowball struck him full in the face, giving him a mouthful of cold snow. Joshua shrieked with laughter. Before Forest could wipe the snow from his eyes, Gideon and Joshua were both pelting him with snowballs.
Sarah dashed up behind Forest, pulled the back of his shirt away from his neck, and dropped a big handful of snow down his back. He whirled to grab her, but she dodged him and began to run toward the house, laughing.
"No, you don't!" Forest lunged after her, taking two strides to her one. He caught the back of her wool cloak and yanked her toward him. Despite her struggles, he seized her around the waist and threw her on her back in the snow. Dropping on top of her, he took a large handful of snow and rubbed it in her face.
Sarah screamed and struck him playfully, managing to throw more snow down the front of his shirt. "No! No!" she protested. "You don't play fair!"
Forest straddled her twisting hips with his knees and caught both wrists, pinning them over her head. Sarah gave a sharp intake of breath and stopped struggling. Her face was barely inches from his. For an instant they stared full into each other's eyes.
Sarah trembled as waves of uncontrollable passion swept over her, leaving her weak and shaken. The snow, the cold, Joshua and Gideon—everything and everyone else were momentarily forgotten. Only this man mattered. "Forest," she murmured. The words I love you formed on her lips.
An Indian war whoop cut through her daze as Joshua flung himself on Forest's back. "I'll save you, Mama," he cried.
They were all laughing and rolling together in the snow, and the precious link between her and Forest was lost. He squeezed her hand meaningfully as he helped her to her feet.
She blushed and averted her eyes. "I think we could all use some warming up," she suggested.
Forest chuckled. "Or cooling down."
"Oh, Mama." Joshua tugged at her other hand. "Just a little while longer."
"No, you can come out again later, before dark if it doesn't get any colder. Inside now."
"Mama . . . "
"Ye heard yer lady mother, Joshua," Gideon reminded him. "Inside wi' ye. I just might have a smidg'n of that gingerbread left."
The kitchen smelled of vegetable soup, hot cider, and wet wool and dogs. Sarah hung her cape on a hook and swung the kettle over the fire. "I'll have sassafras tea for us in just a few minutes," she promised.
Gideon took a deep pan of gingerbread from the cupboard and cut huge chunks for everyone, including Bennett. Forest leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, and watched Sarah as she readied the tea.
Her face grew rosy as she remembered the ardor of last night's lovemaking. Even now, she could still feel the burning imprint of Forest's lean body pressed against hers. Am I putting him in danger from Isaac by letting him stay here? she wondered. She was certain that Forest would leave if she ordered him to, now that she had Gideon. I have only to say the words, she thought. She turned toward him, unconsciously twisting the heavy, damp wool of her skirt between her fingers. "Forest," she began uncertainly.
"Yes?"
She dropped her eyes, unable to face that penetrating blue stare. What will you do if Isaac kills him? her inner voice demanded. Isn't it better to lose him by sending him away than by having him killed?
Her mouth felt as dry as old cedar chips. "Please bring me some more wood," she mumbled.
"Aye," he agreed with a nod. "Whatever you want, you have only to ask, Mistress Turner." He winked at her.
Sarah's hand trembled as she reached for the tea. I can't do it, she thought. I can't send him away . . . not now.
"When?"
Sarah blinked. "What?"
"When, Mama? When can I go back out and play?" Joshua demanded between bites of gingerbread.
"In good time," she replied. A bubble of apprehension rose within her. "All in good time."
~~~
The post rider departed on horseback at first light the following morning. The temperature had risen, and the snow was beginning to melt as Forest poled the ferry back across the Misakaak, bringing the first of several passengers for the day.
Sarah was upstairs cleaning the common sleeping room. A window was open for airing the mattresses, and Forest could hear her clear, rich voice raised in song.
I want you to bring me a new cambric shirt,
May every rose bloom merry in time,
That's made without seam or needle work,
And then you shall be a true lover of mine.
May every rose bloom merry in time,
And then you shall be a true lover of mine.
Forest eased the heavy ferry against the dock and snubbed it tightly with ropes. He glanced up toward the open window as Sarah continued the old ballad.
I want you to wash it in yonder well,
May every rose bloom merry in time,
Where water never flew nor dew never fell.
And then you shall be a true lover of mine.
May every rose bloom merry in time,
And then you shall be a true lover of mine.
He walked through the melting snow to a place directly under the window and continued with the man's refrain.
Three requests you've asked of me,
May I now ask the same of thee?
I want you to buy me ten acres of ground,
Between the salt water and the sea sand.
I want you to plow it with a sheep's horn,
And plant it all over with one grain of corn.
Sarah's laughter rang bright in the December air as she leaned from the window. Together they finished the final verses.
I want you to reap it with a sickle of leather,
May every rose bloom merry in time,
Then tie it all up with a nightingale's feather.
And then you shall be a true lover of mine,
And when you think you've finished your work,
Fu’st come to me, and you'll have your shirt.
May every rose bloom merry in time.
And then you shall be a true love of mine.
And then you shall be . . .
A true love of mine.
"Ah, Sarah," he said when their mutual laughter had died. "You could have made your living with that voice."
Her eyes narrowed. "At some dockside tavern? Methinks there are skills more useful than singing for such a life."
"You know I meant you no insult. You are as prickly as a greenbrier thicket, woman."
"Am I?" Her lips curved into a smile, and she blinked back a tear. She loved him so much. "Forest, we need to talk—privately." It was time she shared her fears for his safety with him, and shouting out a window was no place to do it.
"I promised to play a game with Joshua," he answered. "Can it wait until night?"
She nodded. "All right."
Sarah slammed the window, and he was left staring at the spot where she had been.
"Ah, Sarah," he whispered. "What's to become of us?"
~~~
A man and woman arrived at King's Landing just as Sarah was preparing to retire to her cabin for the night. Joshua had fallen asleep on the floor before the kitchen hearth, clutching his battered stuffed lamb, and Gideon had moved the boy onto his own pallet. "No need to take him out on such a night, ma'am," he reasoned. "He'll be safe enough sleeping here beside me."
A mixture of sleet and rain had begun to fall, and the strange man's hat was coated with ice. Little puddles formed on the floor around the couple's feet.
"You'd be wise to spend the night here," Forest suggested to the strangers. "It's too dark to see the trail, and too slippery for your animals to have good footing."
The woman frowned. "We spend no night in a Loyalist's house. Will you take us across or not?"
"Her brother's house lies only a few miles beyond the river," the man explained. "We'd make it there tonight, if we can. Her sister-in-law is expecting a babe any day."
Forest reached for a cloak and his mittens. "I'll take you across."
Sarah laid her hand on his arm. "I'll come with you," she said. "The water's high, and the ferry can be tricky in this kind of weather." Ignoring Forest's protests, she quickly found her own cape and changed her shoes for heavy leather boots.
"Shall I have something hot for ye when ye get back?" Gideon asked Sarah.
"No need." She bent over her sleeping son and kissed his cheek, tucking the toy lamb safely under the blanket. "It's late. You go on to bed."
"You've a good fire in both rooms of the cabin, ma'am," Gideon assured her. "I set a kettle over the fire so you'll have hot water if you need it."
"Thank you, Gideon." She glanced up at Forest. "I'm ready."
Sarah carried the lantern onto the ferry as Forest aided the couple with their horses. The uneasy animals balked at stepping onto the slick wooden logs and had to be coaxed. They rolled their eyes and laid back their ears, raising their feet cautiously as they ventured out on the bobbing ferry.
"That's it, good," Forest said as the second horse moved into place. The black water eddied about the raft as Forest cross-tied the frightened animals securely and pointed out where the passengers should stand.
"You'll be safe enough," Sarah assured them. It was hard to talk above the wind. Already the frozen rain was soaking her clothes. Her hands were cold inside the sheepskin mittens, and icy sleet piled up on her eyelids and trickled down her neck.
Forest was glad of Sarah's help as he slowly maneuvered the ferry across the storm-swollen river. Branches and other floating debris bumped against the sides of the raft. Once he thought he spied the carcass of a half-submerged deer tumbling in the current.
Sarah pulled in her pole and raised the lantern. "Just a little farther," she said. "I can just make out the far bank."
A few final pushes and they felt the solid scrape of sand beneath the ferry. "Wait until we drop the gate," Forest warned. A rope net looped across the bow and stern of the raft kept passengers and their livestock on the ferry and out of the water.
Sarah unhooked the rope, dropped the gate, and jumped up on shore with a line. She wrapped the rope around a post and walked back to the raft. "All right," she said. "You can come ashore now."
There was a moment of confusion as the animals were untied and then scrambled up the icy slope to the trail. The man grunted. The woman pulled her cloak tighter and trudged after her husband, saying nothing.
"Always glad to be of service," Forest called after them.
Sarah laughed. "You didn't expect a thank-you, did you?" She unfastened the line and jumped back onto the raft.
Forest grabbed her hand and steadied her balance on the slippery deck. "All right?"
"Yes, thank you." She laughed again. "It's a rule. The worse the weather, the nastier the passengers. Nice people don't usually travel at night in storms. They can find plenty of snug kitchens to sit in. It's that kind"—she motioned in the direction the couple had taken—"that we get. Chances are, they'll tell the first people they meet that we overcharged them."
Sarah picked up her pole and helped Forest to pus
h off from the bank. "An innkeeper sees all kinds. We had a duke once spend the night at my father's inn. He'd come there to break the Commandments with a married lady of high rank. I was young, so I don't remember much about him, except that he was very tall and very kind. He gave me a shilling to watch the road for a yellow coach, not his but someone else's. It didn't come, so the lady gave me another shilling when they left. The duke was polite, but his coachman was so rude my father threatened to put elixir of white ash in the coachman's pork pie."
"White ash?"
"The bark makes a strong purgative. Father said it would take the edge off the coachman's overweening pride if he had to stop the duke's coach every quarter mile to run into the bushes."
"I'm sure it would," Forest shouted back as he moved toward the front of the ferry. "Just don't get it into your head to use it on me."
The leather strap that held the ferry to the guide rope was stiff with ice, and the rope itself was frozen almost solid. Sarah walked carefully forward and handed Forest the lantern. He secured it to an upright post.
She pulled the hood of her cape forward to shield her eyes as much as possible and knotted a wool scarf around the lower part of her face.
The raft pitched and jerked in the current. Sarah steadied herself by locking one arm around the single wood rail on the side. Chunks of ice bumped against the logs, were sucked under, and bobbed up on the far side. She gritted her teeth, knowing they had reached the halfway mark, the deepest and most dangerous part of the river.
It was almost impossible to see. The lantern gave off a feeble circle of pale yellow light; the flickering tongue of flame within the glass lantern flared and popped as the wind seeped through the cracks, threatening to extinguish it at any second. Forest was only a dark form as he moved from the bow to the stern of the raft, poling it across the churning river.
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