by Ana Seymour
“Would you like to go on a hunting party tomorrow, Jacob?” Ethan asked on the night they finally reached the place where he had declared that they could stop and rest a day.
Jacob’s cheeks grew pink with pleasure. “Shooting? Shooting bears?”
Ethan laughed and reached over to ruffle Jacob’s shaggy blond hair. “Probably not bears. I don’t think we’d be able to carry a whole bear along with us on the trail, and a good woodsman only shoots what he can eat or carry.”
Jacob scrambled to his feet and went to stand beside his father. “I can go, can’t I, Papa?” He held on to his father’s shoulder and did a little dance with his feet as he asked Ethan, “What will we be hunting, then?”
“Grouse, most likely. Ducks, turkey, quail. Maybe a squirrel or two.”
The list evidently did not quite fit Jacob’s hopes, but in a minute he had regained his enthusiasm.
“Will you be using the Sure Shot?” he asked, using Ethan’s pet name for his long rifle. He had told the children a number of stories about how the gun had saved his life during his time with Rogers’s Rangers.
“I wouldn’t go hunting without it,” Ethan replied.
Jacob turned to his father. “May I go, Papa? I want to see Captain Reed fire the Sure Shot. And may I try shooting, too?”
Randolph looked as if he were about to deny his son’s request, but then he took a good look at the boy’s eager face and said, “You may try one of the fowling pieces. Not a rifle quite as yet.”
Jacob beamed. “May I load it and everything?”
Randolph nodded. “But if you’re to be a hunter tomorrow, it’s to bed with you now.”
Hannah rose to her feet immediately. “I’ll take him. But first…” She looked over at the men, keeping to the side of the circle where Randolph sat with Hugh Trask and Seth. She avoided meeting Ethan Reed’s gaze. “Do you think I might go with you tomorrow, too?”
“Hunting?” Randolph asked with a little frown.
“Yes. I…I was thinking it would be a good thing for me to know, now that we’ll be living in the wilderness.”
“Hunting is for menfolk,” Trask said.
Hannah looked at her employer. “I’d like to learn,” she said.
Randolph’s expression was doubtful, but before he could say anything, Ethan answered for him. “I don’t see any reason why Mistress Forrester shouldn’t join us if she wishes.”
Randolph’s eyes went from Hannah to Reed, then back to Hannah. “All right. I have no objection.”
Ethan ignored the slight strain in Webster’s voice and turned to Jacob, whose happy grin was starting to droop with sleepiness. “So, no slugabeds tomorrow morning, lad. Those birds won’t wait for us.”
“I’ll be ready, sir,” Jacob said, standing straight. Then he put his small hand into Hannah’s and turned with her toward their tent.
It felt good to be walking instead of rocking in a saddle, Hannah thought as her skirts swished against the tall marsh grasses. She lifted her head to breathe in the spring air. It smelled like freshly cut hay. They’d started out early that morning, leaving the three girls and Nancy Trask sleeping. Only Eliza had been awake to bid them good luck. They’d traveled downriver until they’d reached a wide slough that stretched out to the south. Now they were following along its edge. Jacob barely reached above the weeds at times, but he marched proudly forward, carrying a small fowling musket that Ethan had lent him for the day.
Hannah, herself, carried no gun. It appeared that none of the men had actually taken her desire to learn to shoot seriously. But she didn’t intend to let the day go by without giving it a try.
Seth Baker had bagged the first prize of the day, a homing pigeon that had sat prettily in a tree for him without moving a feather. But the grouse that had been flushed out of a clump of bushes by the sound of their arrival had gotten away. Randolph had shouted that the bird was his, and then had badly missed his shot. Hannah remembered Jeanne MacDougall’s comments about her son-in-law’s hunting ability, and she hoped her employer would do better as the day went on.
“There are too many of us,” Ethan said as they came to the edge of a brackish pond. “We’re making too much noise.” He pointed to the other men’s boots. He, himself, had switched from his riding boots to a type of moccasin that was bound around his legs up to the knee. “Stay here and let me circle around the pond. Then I’ll scare whatever’s there over in your direction.”
They nodded agreement and watched as Ethan made his way without a sound to the other side of the water.
“Can I shoot now, Papa?” Jacob asked in a loud whisper.
“Not yet, Jacob,” his father answered. “Let us get a few birds first, and then I’ll help you with your gun.”
When Ethan was directly opposite them, he took a large stick and threw it into the middle of the pond. Immediately came the sounds of splashing and squawks and three blue-black teal lifted from the water flying toward them.
Seth, Hugh and Randolph all raised their rifles at once. “That one’s mine,” Randolph hollered as one of the birds veered to the left. The three blasts were deafening, and sent smoke billowing around them. When it had cleared, Jacob said, “Yours kept on flying, Papa.”
Seth and Hugh had each hit their mark and were walking to retrieve their game at the edge of the marsh, just where the grasses started to get mushy.
Randolph pounded the butt of his rifle into the ground and looked over at Hannah, his face chagrined. “I never was any good with these blamed things,” he said.
Jacob looked up at his father, “You could use my musket, Papa. Maybe you’d have a better chance— one of the pieces of shot might hit something.”
Randolph smiled. “Maybe I’ll give it a try, Jacob.”
But as the day wore on, it became obvious that Randolph’s skill with the fowling pieces was little better than with his rifle. Ethan tried to give advice. “The birds will want to take off into the wind,” he told his charges. “So you can anticipate where they’ll be heading and shoot just in front of them.”
The day was made for Jacob when he was able to take a pheasant at point-blank range. “I don’t know if we’ll ever get all the pieces of lead out of the poor bird,” Ethan had whispered to Hannah, “but at least the boy’s happy.”
They had plenty of birds to take back when Hannah finally got up the courage to say, “Now it’s my turn. Who’s going to lend me a gun?”
Randolph, trying to maintain a facade of good humor in spite of his poor performance, said, “I’d give you mine. It’s surely not doing me any good.”
Ethan was just coming back from the woods where he had gone to pick up a grouse he’d shot. “A rifle would be quite a kick for you to start out. We’ll use the little gun I lent Jacob.”
Ethan retrieved the small musket from Jacob and tamped in a light load of shot. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked her.
Hannah shook her head. Then before she knew what was happening, Ethan had moved behind her and put his arms completely around her, holding the gun angled toward the ground. Hannah started as his body moved against hers. Her eyes went to Randolph, who was watching them with a fixed smile.
Ethan’s voice was impersonal as he showed her how to position the gun against her shoulder and sight a target, but Hannah found it hard to concentrate on his instructions. His body felt warm and solid against her, bringing flashes of memories of the other night when he had held her against him and kissed her.
“Do you think you want to try it by yourself or should I help you out the first time?” he asked her, his voice deep in her ear.
Hannah wet her lips. “By myself, I think,” she said, hoping her voice sounded more normal to the others than it did to herself.
Ethan stepped back. “All right. There’s a wood duck in that tree yonder. See what you can do. Squeeze, don’t jerk. Slow and steady.”
Freed from Ethan’s unsettling proximity, Hannah focused on the task at hand. She tightened her body
in concentration and tried to remember everything Ethan had told her. The gun’s kick was more than she had bargained for and sent her reeling backward. But she didn’t fall, and when she straightened up Jacob shouted, “She got it! Hannah got it, Papa!”
Sure enough, Seth Baker was coming toward them, waving the dead duck above his head. “Nice shot, Hannah girl,” he called.
“I knew you’d be a fast learner,” Ethan said softly in her ear, as he took the gun from her to reload.
“Congratulations, Hannah,” Randolph said. “It looks like we’ll have to depend on you to bring home the food for our family.”
Hannah couldn’t remember having been included before as part of the “family,” and she had the feeling that Randolph’s words were for Ethan’s sake as much as for hers. But she could also tell that Randolph’s ego had taken a bruising this day, and she wished she could make him feel better. Besides, Ethan had a smug look on his face that Hannah did not like. What was it about men that made the failure of one so satisfying to the others?
She relinquished the gun and walked over to Randolph. “You’ve done a fine job of providing for your family for many years, Mr. Webster, and I’m sure that’s not going to change. And anyway, I declare, that blast blew two years off my life. I hadn’t realized.”
Ethan had reloaded the gun and held it out to her. “Care to try again?”
“No. I’ve had enough for today, thank you.”
Ethan looked around at the group. “I think we all have.” He pointed at the stack of birds on the ground. “We’ll dine well tonight and for some time to come.”
“And I helped, didn’t I, Papa?” Jacob asked proudly.
Randolph slung his rifle around to the back of his shoulder and gave a sigh. “Yes, son. You surely did help.”
* * *
The day’s rest had done everyone good. Spirits were high as they sat around the fire eating their fill of the fresh meat the hunters had brought back. Jacob was happier than Hannah had seen him since they had started the trip. He had spent several minutes recounting his hunting adventures to his sister and the Trask girls, who obliged him with all the praise he had hoped for. With Peggy’s help, Janie and Bridgett had started to overcome some of their shyness. Now when asked questions, they gave soft answers instead of looking down and scuffing their feet. They had started to accept Jacob in their circle and tonight were treating him very much like a little brother. Hannah watched with satisfaction as the four children laughed and began a game of shadows, using the light of the fire, which had been built higher than normal to accommodate the extra food.
Even Hugh and Nancy Trask seemed to be enjoying themselves this evening. Nancy had actually laughed out loud a time or two. And it was she who suggested that Seth bring out his fiddle after the food and dishes had been cleared away. When she smiled and the color was in her face as it was tonight, Hannah noted, she was quite beautiful. Her husband must have thought so, too, because for once he seemed to be paying her some attention and even refilled her plate when she asked for seconds. “You’re eating for two now, wife,” he’d said, much to Hannah’s surprise. Nancy had been surprised herself, judging from the pleased, shy smile that had crept over her face.
Eliza had backed up Nancy’s suggestion about the fiddle. She’d given her husband a squeeze and said, “Oh yes, Seth. You’ve played so little since…” The smile almost faded from her mouth, but after a slight adjustment she kept it firmly in place and continued, “Oh please, do play!”
It appeared to Hannah that the only person who was not in a good humor was Randolph. He ate plenty and joined with the children in a couple of rounds of shadows, but Hannah could tell that his mind was elsewhere. She was reminded of the days following Priscilla’s death when he had walked the house like a blind man, not even noticing that other people were present. It was likely that seeing the Trasks together talking about their coming child, and the Bakers, who were always so tender with each other, had made him miss his wife this evening. Hannah’s heart ached for him. Through the many months that she had watched him plan this trip to the West, she had held a secret fear that he was trying to run away from his grief. She knew from her own experience that it didn’t work. The grief simply followed you along wherever you went.
When the children added their pleas to those of his wife, Seth unlaced one of the packs and retrieved his fiddle and bow. He unwrapped it reverently from the layers of lamb’s wool he had packed it in. The girls and Jacob crowded around, and Jacob asked, “How’d you learn to play, Mr. Baker? D’you think I might be able to learn sometime?”
Seth smiled as he lovingly smoothed his hand over the polished wood. “This winter, when we’re all tucked safe into our homesteads, I’ll teach you, Jacob. By next spring you’ll be playing a reel for our first barn dance.”
Randolph had left the circle around the fire. Hannah saw that he was standing a few yards away looking out at the dark river. Quietly she walked down the bank toward him.
“Aren’t you going to come listen to the music?” she asked.
He turned toward her. Even in the darkness she could see that there was pain in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He cleared his throat before he spoke. “I’m not much in the mood for music tonight, I guess.”
“Sometimes when I’m in a bad mood, I force myself to do something cheerful, and before long I’m feeling better in spite of myself.”
He attempted a smile. “You never seem to be in a bad mood, Hannah.”
“Oh, but I am,” she assured him. “After my mother died, I was in nothing but a bad mood for so long, I wondered if I would ever be happy again.”
“But now you are?”
“Why, yes.”
“Even though you are under indenture, not free to do as you please?”
“I’ve been very happy in your household, Mr. Webster. You know that I love the children dearly.” When she had come over to comfort him, she hadn’t expected to be discussing herself. “Of course, I still miss Mrs. Webster, and I know that her absence must weigh on you heavily at times.”
Randolph stared out into the darkness. “Aye. It weighs on me. We had such plans, she and I. We would have taken over the inn, you know. The MacDougalls are getting too old to handle it. And we thought we’d add a relay station. This country’s growing, and Philadelphia is getting more important all the time,” he added, sounding wistful.
“But now you’ll be part of opening up new lands to make the country even bigger.”
He looked back to her. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve made the right decision. Look at what happened today. Perhaps I have no business thinking that I can make a go of it on the frontier.”
“We’re all going to have a lot of learning to do.”
“If we don’t all starve to death first.” He gave a disgusted kick to a log at his feet. It rolled down the bank and fell into the river with a dull plop.
Hannah felt slightly guilty that the same thought had occurred to her as she’d witnessed Randolph’s struggles on the hunt today. “I don’t suppose you wanted to think about operating the inn without Mrs. Webster.”
Randolph shook his head. “It will go to her brother now, of course, though what he’ll do with it I don’t know. He has his own parish to tend, and I don’t think he’d ever give up the church to become a businessman.”
“Well, I’m sure everything will turn out for the best. You and the children will have a grand new life in a wonderful new land.”
“We all will, I hope,” he said. He put his hand around the upper part of her arm. “I wouldn’t even have the heart to try it if you weren’t going to be with us, Hannah. You give us all strength.”
He had touched her many times, taken her arm to help her in and out of a carriage or wagon, but tonight his hand seemed to burn against her. She wanted to pull away from his grasp, but she forced herself to stay still. “Strength comes from within each of us, Mr. Webster. No one can give it to us. Yo
u and the children have all had to be strong since losing their mother, and the strength has been there when you needed it. I had nothing to do with it.”
“You’re wrong about that, Hannah.” Finally he dropped his hand from her. “One of these days I’m going to show you how wrong.”
For a moment he stood looking at her intently. Then he took a step backward and said, “Let’s go listen to Seth’s fiddle and see if your cheering-up system works.”
Seth was talented. It hardly seemed possible that such a varied collection of sounds could emanate from a few little pieces of wood and string. Ethan sat clapping along with the rest of the group, but beyond the firelight he could make out Webster and Hannah in earnest conver-sation down by the river. Was the man finally beginning to realize what a prize she was? He’d been a widower for several months, and Ethan supposed that by now the grief had dulled enough for him to start looking around again. In Webster’s case, he didn’t have far to look. He had a beauty living right under his own roof. The man wasn’t stupid.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Webster put his hand on her. He noticed that she didn’t pull away. They stayed like that for several moments, their heads bent close. It was to be expected, he told himself. And a lucky thing, too. It would make one less complication in his own life. He could concentrate on getting this pack of greenhorns out to their settlement. Then he could put them all out of his mind, including Miss Hannah Forrester. She did funny things inside his head. Inside the rest of him, too, for that matter. When he’d felt her soft roundness pressed up against him today as he taught her to use the musket, he’d been afraid his hand was going to start shaking like a schoolboy’s.
It would be good to get to Fort Pitt. In the meantime, he didn’t intend to give Randolph Webster’s servant any more shooting lessons.
