by Ana Seymour
She supposed if she got busy, she’d warm up. There was firewood to gather and food to prepare and tents to pitch. But for just a moment more she wanted to stand and watch the rushing waters—waters that were rushing west. To a wide open land where perhaps no white woman had ever trod. It raised bumps on her skin just to think about it.
“Hannah, are you all right? You’re not too weary from the ride?” Randolph came up beside her. His voice sounded tired.
She turned to smile at him. She was starting to get used to this new, more solicitous side of her employer. “I’ll admit that I’m a bit sore…er…where one might expect after all day on a mule, but other than that I’m fine. It’s all of you I’m worried about.”
Randolph rubbed two fingers along the bridge of his nose. “It’s been a wearying day, I vow. The bairns have held up bravely, but it’s hard…”
“I know,” Hannah said softly, putting her hand on his sleeve. “‘Tis hard to leave behind the memories. I had the same problem leaving England. But soon the children will be involved in their new life—and so will you.”
“And we’ll be so blamed busy we won’t have time for self-pity,” he said with a sad half smile. “It’s too bad about the Crawfords. Jacob was counting on being with Benjamin.”
“Aye. We didn’t need another disappointment.”
Their gazes went over to the camp fire. Ethan was showing Jacob how to tie up a turkey by the neck and hang it over the open fire. “Now take this piece of bark, Jacob,” he told the boy. who seemed to hang on his every word. “Try to catch the juices as they drip off and then pour them back over the bird.”
“What’s that for?” Jacob watched intently as the big man who knelt beside him demonstrated his basting technique.
“It makes the turkey tender and juicy. Your sister and Mistress Hannah are going to be downright pea green with envy when they taste what a bird you’ve cooked.”
Jacob grinned and took the curved piece of bark from Ethan.
Hannah turned back to her employer. “At least it looks like he’s happy for the moment.”
Randolph was watching his son and their guide with a frown. “He’ll burn his hand off if he doesn’t have a care.”
Hannah was surprised at his hostile tone. “Captain Reed appears to be watching him closely enough.”
“It’s not Captain Reed’s job to be watching my son,” he snapped.
Hannah’s jaw dropped. After all his kind remarks to her, she couldn’t believe that Randolph meant his comment as a reprimand from employer to servant. Yet it was her responsibility to be watching his children.
“Would you like me to tell him to move away from the fire?” she asked, her voice tightening.
Randolph looked down at her in surprise. “No! That is…I didn’t mean to imply that you aren’t doing your duty, Hannah. What a preposterous idea. I’ve told you before—the children and I would be lost without you.”
“I thought you sounded irritated, sir.”
Randolph looked over again at Jacob and the captain. “I’m just tired, Hannah. I’m sorry. It’s been a difficult day.”
“I’m sure we’ll all feel better as soon as we leave the goodbyes behind us and get farther down the trail.”
Randolph smiled at her. “Just talking to you makes me feel better, Hannah.”
By the third day out, Hannah started to wonder if her prediction would ever come true. Instead of leaving behind the memories, it seemed as if they were becoming stronger. Much of the talk around the camp fire that evening had been about warm home fires and soft beds and Jeanne MacDougall’s apple pies. Hannah had assured the children that they would be picking up such supplies as flour and lard at Fort Pitt before they started down the Ohio. She promised them that when they had their own homestead they would make pies of their own. She didn’t know about apples. How long did it take to grow an apple tree, she wondered?
The truth was that, with the possible exception of Ethan Reed and young Jacob, all of them were in varying degrees of physical misery.
Peggy and the two Trask girls giggled over their oddly placed pains in secret, and Hannah could see that a slow bond was beginning to form among them in the way that it does with young girls. The friend-ship was good for Peggy, who had been isolated for too long, but it left Jacob more alone than ever.
Seth and Eliza, by far the oldest members of the group, had ridden along without complaint, quietly protective of each other and unfailingly cheerful with everyone.
Nancy Trask had also made no protest at the long hours on the trail. The previous afternoon Hugh had loudly proclaimed to the entire party that his “arse” was as raw as a skinned chicken and he wasn’t going another mile. Ethan had calmly invited him to follow at whatever pace he liked and then had continued on up the trail with the rest of the group following docilely behind.
As for Randolph, Hannah wasn’t quite sure what to think about her employer’s condition. He had not complained, certainly, but neither had he been the buoyant adventurer who she had watched plan this journey. His enthusiasm for the trip seemed to have disappeared, and when he spoke to her at all, it was with a diffidence that she had never before noticed in him.
She didn’t know exactly when it was that she had begun to suspect that Randolph’s uncharacteristic churlishness toward Ethan came from a kind of jealousy of the frontiersman’s attention to Hannah her-self. It was hard to believe, because it implied that Randolph held some sort of regard for Hannah beyond that of an employer, which he had never before given her reason to suppose. And, of course, any thought of jealousy was absurd, because Hannah was sure that Ethan Reed’s compliments to her and smiles and winks meant nothing. He treated gray-haired Eliza Baker with the same mockingly flirtatious manner.
“A penny for your thoughts, mistress.”
Hannah jumped as Ethan’s voice came out of the darkness. Most of the group had retired for the night. Hannah had tried to go to sleep earlier in the little tent she shared with Peggy and Jacob, but had been unable to find a comfortable position for her jolted bones. Finally she had given up and come out to sit by the fire. She turned as Ethan approached carrying two logs, each one as big around as her waist.
“These will burn through the night,” he said, putting them on the fire. He dusted off his hands, then dropped down beside her. “Now, tell me. What has put that furrow into your lovely brow?” His hand neared her face but didn’t touch her.
Hannah tried to pull her thoughts away from her speculation about Randolph and Ethan. She hoped mind reading was not among the captain’s many talents. “I didn’t know anyone was awake,” she said, avoiding his question.
“So why are you still up?”
Hannah shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. Too sore, I think. I’ve never ridden before, at least not like this.”
“You’ve been a brave girl about it. All of you have done well, really. Before long you’ll all have calluses in the places you need them the most.”
“I never thought I’d find that idea attractive,” Hannah said with a little chuckle, “but I can’t wait.”
Ethan laughed. “I’ve a bottle of whiskey that could ease some of those aches, but I’m afraid if I bring it out there’ll be no handling Trask.”
“You seem to handle him well enough.”
“I’ve dealt with his type before along the trail. I can’t imagine how a woman as sweet as Nancy Trask ended up with a lout like him.”
Hannah felt a sudden unfamiliar twist. She’d just been thinking about jealousy, but that surely could not be what she was experiencing at this moment. Nancy Trask had a kind of fragile beauty that she imagined was appealing to men. Her glossy black hair and creamy white skin made her stand out among people whose coloring was not so extreme.
“Mrs. Trask is lovely, isn’t she?” she commented, looking back at the fire.
Ethan turned his head toward her sharply. “She’s fair enough. I just hope she’s a lot stronger than she looks, and that her babe holds off un
til we reach our destination.”
Hannah gave an exclamation of dismay. “Oh, but it must! She’d not have the baby out here on the trail.”
“Babies have a way of coming into the world on their own schedule.”
The very idea of Nancy Trask giving birth in the middle of the wilderness drove all thoughts of jealousy out of Hannah’s head. “What would we do?”
“How many babies have you helped birth?” he asked her.
Hannah’s eyes grew round. “None. I suppose Eliza may know more about it.”
“Well, we menfolk aren’t likely to be of much help, so it will be up to you two.”
For the first time it really hit Hannah what it meant to be leaving civilization. In London she and her mother had often had to forgo necessities for lack of money, but at least she had known that help was available if it came to an emergency. And in Philadelphia, caring for Priscilla, she had lacked for nothing, except the divine power to overcome an incurable disease. “We’ll just have to make do,” she said, trying to sound confident. “I’ll talk things over with Eliza tomorrow.”
“Good. As I’ve said before, Mistress Hannah. I like your attitude. It will serve you well in the West.”
Unlike the frivolous compliments the captain was wont to disperse, this one seemed sincere. “Thank you,” she said, her voice grown hushed.
He had leaned close to her. “I find that I like lots of things about you, Mistress Hannah.”
The fire grew brighter as the bark burned off the giant logs. She hoped the sudden blaze was the reason why her cheeks had grown so warm. But the height of the fire would not explain her cold hands. Hannah rubbed them together. “Now you are bantering with me again, Captain, and as I have explained before, it’s not seemly.”
An expression of annoyance flickered briefly in his eyes, then passed. He leaned even closer to her, until she could see the reflections of the flames in the dark centers of his eyes. “Do you like sweets, mistress?” he asked very softly.
“I beg your pardon?” Hannah was finding it hard to breathe normally with his face just inches from hers.
Abruptly he sat back and pulled a paper packet from inside his buckskin coat. “Horehound drops,” he said. He pulled something out of the paper and reached over to her. His fingers pushed the candy into her mouth, then lingered ever so briefly on her warm lips.
The slick, minty candy felt good against her tongue. After a moment of surprise, she smiled.
“The Creeks say that if you fall asleep with something sweet on your lips, you’ll have sweet dreams the whole night through,” Ethan said, popping one of the drops into his own mouth.
“I thought we were only supposed to bring essentials along on this trip, Captain Reed,” Hannah said with mock disapproval.
“Horehound’s an essential as far as I’m concerned. It’s the main reason I head back east every now and then. There’s not much else in so-called civilization that interests me.”
“You have a sweet tooth?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But surely there are some other things you miss from the city?” she asked, talking around the piece of candy still in her mouth.
As she waited for his answer, a log cracked, sending sparks up into the velvety blackness of the sky. Her gaze followed them upward, then scanned the clearing Ethan had chosen for their campsite. The woods seemed to enclose them in their own little world, smelling of smoke and moist, spring-scented earth.
“No, I can’t say that I miss much,” he was saying, his eyes on the fire. “Sometimes I miss reading. Books are hard to come by out West, and newspapers are already history by the time we get them.”
“Don’t you have family, friends that you miss?”
Ethan’s head came up. “I have friends at Fort Pitt. They’re all I need.”
His tone had grown colder, as if closing off discussion about anything personal. Hannah sat uncertainly for a moment, then said. “I should try to sleep now.”
Ethan stood with her and offered the paper of candy. “Would you like another one?”
Hannah took one of the drops. “Thank you. So now we’re guaranteed to have sweet dreams tonight. Is that the idea?”
Ethan’s dark eyes held hers. “I already have mine planned.”
Chapter Four
Ethan had driven his inexperienced party from Philadelphia as hard as he thought possible over the past two days. He knew that tempers were growing short. Both the people and the animals needed a rest. But this particular section of the trail was Seneca territory, and he wanted to get through it as soon as possible.
The Seneca had been peaceful of late, but just before he’d left Philadelphia, he’d had word from an old Rogers’s Rangers comrade that Pontiac was urging the Seneca to join with his Ottawa and the Potawatomi in an alliance against the increasing numbers of British settlers moving into the Ohio River valley. He hoped the report was just another alarmist account like the ones they constantly used to hear at Fort Pitt. He certainly was not going to frighten his charges with vague possibilities. But he wasn’t willing to completely ignore the report when the lives of women and children could be at stake. Once they were out of range of the Susquehanna River and closer to Fort Pitt, he’d slow down the pace.
In the meantime, he made it a point to be in the lead during the day with his musket close at hand and to sleep as little as possible each night. He had hopes that Hannah Forrester would have a another attack of insomnia and join him at the camp fire late at night, but he had seen no sign of her for the past four evenings. It was just as well. His mind was sharper when it wasn’t fixed on an attractive woman. And Hannah was definitely attractive. Even after more than a week on the trail, her hair shone as bright as a field of spring buttercups. And each morning she awakened fresh and blooming, her eyes sparkling like the waters of the river they followed. He had not heard a single complaining word from her. When the others became sullen as he urged them on for an additional mile at the end of a long day, she did her best to put heart back into the group.
As if his thoughts had conjured her up, Hannah suddenly appeared at the edge of the circle of fire-light. Her thick blond hair was out of its customary braid, falling loose around her shoulders. Ethan had an almost uncontrollable urge to touch it.
“Do you ever sleep?” she asked.
Ethan smiled. “Fits and starts. You get used to it out on the trail. A full night’s sleep is rare.”
Her hands were at her waist, pulling on her shawl, unconsciously stretching it tightly across her full breasts. Ethan felt his body stir. “Would you sit with me a spell?” he asked.
She nodded and stepped around the fire to sink down next to him on a large log. “I see you here every night, long after everyone else has gone to sleep. Yet you’re always the first one up in the morning, though I myself have awakened before dawn.”
He shrugged. “We’ve an eternity to sleep, I reckon. No sense trying to get it all in at once.”
“I thought perhaps there was some reason you were keeping watch. Some danger?”
He could tell her the truth. She didn’t seem to be one of the hysterical-type females he’d known so well in Boston. But she might feel it her duty to tell her employer, and before long he’d have a whole train of overly skittish charges ready to shoot off their rifles at the belching of a squirrel.
He grinned at her. “Mayhap it’s those sweet dreams of mine that are keeping me awake.”
“Captain Reed…” she began in an admonishing tone.
Ethan held up his hand. His face became serious and he said, “Actually, I do have a problem.”
Hannah was instantly attentive.
“I’ve finished my horehound drops,” he said. His eyes fixed on her mouth. “I’ve nothing sweet to put on my lips before I sleep.”
Hannah had seen Captain Reed sitting by the fire each evening since their first late-night encounter, but she had deliberately kept to her bed to avoid another meeting. She was afraid of him. Or r
ather, she was afraid of the odd feelings he engendered in her head and in her body. Her mother had warned her off all men, and since her mother’s death her status as a servant had precluded any kind of relationship. She was twenty-one years old. By that age most of the girls back on the East End had half a dozen babies to raise.
The captain closed the distance between them on the log and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “There,” he said, now smiling. “That should be enough to sweeten my dreams this night.”
The press of his lips lingered on her face. It had been her first kiss from a man, and it hadn’t been the least bit evil, as her mother had always warned. It had been gentle and tender and made her feel pleasantly quivery inside.
Unconsciously she lifted two fingers to touch the spot he had kissed.
“Your skin is softer than a babe’s,” he said, his hand lifting to cover hers.
She jumped back. She hadn’t come out to the camp fire for more of Captain Reed’s audacious flirting. She had wanted to talk with him seriously. But around this man her normally intelligent conver-sation turned to mush.
“Please, Captain Reed. I must ask you once again to behave more decorously. I’m not used to…this kind of teasing.”
“You’ve had too serious a life, Mistress Hannah. I could see that from the first day I met you there in the tavern. You’d the look of a beautiful lass who was living away her life doing for other folks without ever knowing—without ever exploring—what it would be like to live for herself for a change.”
“I find a great deal of satisfaction in ‘living for others,’ as you put it. And even if I didn’t, I’m bound by contract to do so for a good long time yet.”
“How long?”
“My indenture with Mr. Webster runs another three years.”
Ethan gave a low whistle. “You’ll be an old woman by then. You’d better start doing a few things for yourself right away.”
“I’m perfectly satisfied with my life the way it is, Captain Reed.” She made her voice aloof, trying to put an end to the direction of their conver-sation.
