Daughters of Harwood House Trilogy : Three Romances Tell the Saga of Sisters Sold into Indentured Service (9781630586140)

by Crawford, Dianna; Laity, Sally

  He turned to her with his first genuine smile. “Why, yes, Mistress Kinyon. I can certainly see the woman’s touch here. It was not what I expected, to be sure. But perhaps I should induce more couples to man our trading posts.” He shifted his attention to Nate and gave him a peculiar look.

  Wondering if it was a doubtful one after all, Rose let out a breath. “I just came to fetch this kettle.” She started toward the hearth. “’Tis delightful having all this company. And with this unexpected gift of a mild, sunny day, ’twould be wonderful to set up a long table outside so we can all share the meal together. Could you fix one up for us, sweetheart?”

  Nate glanced around. “I reckon we could make a table out of some crates. Anything for you, honey-pie.”

  “And a bolt of color covering it would look rather festive, don’t you think?”

  As the men all came to their feet with ready grins, Rose had a comical thought. If only her ever-so-proper family could see her holding court for an assortment of well-dressed businessmen and their unkempt guides at a splintery crate table! A table covered with—she glanced across the bolts of material—turquoise cotton. Yes. Turquoise to go with today’s brilliant sky.

  By the time all was ready to serve at the crude dinner table which occupied a spot between the trading post and the outside cook fire, Rose caught a flash of deerskin from the corner of her eye. She saw Shining Star running down the hill to meet Robert Bloom, returning from escorting a pair of braves across the river to help guard the horses of the company men.

  Thank You, Father, that he’s back in time to join us. Since it was the Sabbath, it would be only proper to ask Bob to give a reading from the Bible. Travelers likely heard the scriptures read about as often as they partook of a proper Sunday dinner.

  Stripping off her apron, she went to summon the men to the table. It amazed her to find them still gabbing in the trading post. Wasn’t it women who were supposed to be the talkers?

  “No,” Mr. Hawkes was saying as she walked in. “Venango is—Oh, here comes our lovely hostess.” He offered her a polite smile.

  Rose couldn’t help noticing the sudden halt to their conversation caused by her arrival and smirked. Most likely they’d been swapping naughty stories, as men at the taverns in Bath so often did. Strange, though, she heard none of the usual laughter in this case. “Gentlemen, I’ve come to announce our Sabbath meal is ready.”

  As the assembly got up from the sacks and crates on which they’d been sitting, she noticed that all of them had removed their hats and every last one had combed his hair and tied it neatly in a queue. How touching of them to put forth an effort to look presentable.

  Outside, Rose hurried to greet Robert, who walked hand in hand with Shining Star, chatting with her.

  “I seen that dinner table on my way across the water,” he said with a grin. “Couldn’t miss the tablecloth. Even the people in the village are gawkin’.”

  Rose glanced toward the settlement, noting a number of Indians seated around a fire outside the council house, staring their way. “ ’Twould seem I’ve given them something new to talk about, have I not?” Smiling, she turned back to him and Star. “I’d appreciate it very much if you would read a selection of scripture before I ask Nate to give the blessing.”

  A grin broadened Bob’s face. “You’re askin’ Nate to pray? In front of all them men?”

  Rose couldn’t stop her own smile from growing. “It seems only proper, since he’s the head of the house, so to speak. You sit at one end of the table, and I’ll be sure he takes the other.”

  “What about those company men?”

  “Why, Mr. Hawkes will sit at Nate’s right hand, of course, and Mr. Parker will sit at your right. They’re the two older ones. Mr. Jenkins shouldn’t mind.”

  A laugh rumbled from deep inside Robert, and Star looked up at him with a puzzled expression. Sobering, he spoke a few words to her in her language, and they started walking again. “Everybody’s standin’ ‘round the table, Rose. You’d best get up there to that fancy little tea party of yours.”

  Chapter 29

  Be careful for nothing,’ ” Bob read, “ ‘but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.’ ”

  Seated on a keg at the opposite end of the makeshift table, Nate’s mind drifted from the scripture reading and floated to Rose, on his left, while Jenny, dozing on a pallet on the ground beside her, nuzzled with a handmade rag doll. Rose had accomplished so much in two hours. Not only had she put together a fine meal, but she’d found time to don a daygown he’d never seen before. The cornflower-blue material seemed to light up her azure eyes, and the faint scent of rose water she had used on her long, honey-colored hair danced across his nostrils on the light breeze. A few loose silky strands glistened in the firelight, free from the blue ribbon that tied the remainder at the nape of her neck.

  The heady aroma of chicken and dumplings overtook her sweet scent and made his mouth water. He couldn’t wait to taste them and the beans, carrots, squash, and biscuits lining the table, along with a metal pitcher of fresh milk and a container of butter.

  Everything looked appealing on the sea of turquoise fabric, despite the mismatched trenchers, tin plates, and utensils that had been gathered for use. His English Rose had come a long way from the frightened young woman he’d first met. And glancing around the table, he realized his was not the only admiring glance she drew. When the men weren’t staring wide eyed at the array of food, they were enthralled with Rose. His wife. To make certain everyone understood he had prior claim to the British beauty, he reached over and took one of her hands where it lay on the table.

  Her gaze flew to his then quickly calmed. A soft smile lit her eyes, and she lowered her lashes.

  Nate leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Everything’s nice. Real nice.”

  Thank you, she mouthed then returned her attention to Bob.

  Keeping hold of her hand for good measure, Nate made a real effort to shift his attention to his friend for the remainder of the reading.

  “ ‘Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.’ ”

  Nate wondered if Bob had deliberately chosen that scripture to chastise Rose or him. Most likely both. How much longer was the chapter, anyway?

  “ ‘Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you.’ ” Closing the Bible, Bob looked up with a satisfied smile. “May God bless the reading of His Word.” His gaze moved to Nate. “And now our host will bless the food.”

  Caught completely off guard, Nate barely managed to keep his mouth from falling open.

  Rose squeezed his hand, and an impish spark in her eyes went right along with her pleased smile.

  Well, he played his games and she played hers. He could do this. Drawing a calming breath, he stood and bowed his head. “Our Father, which art in heaven, bless this food an’ the lovely hands that prepared it, in Jesus’ name, Amen.”

  A rather contrite “Amen” echoed around the table as he regained his seat and the men reached eagerly for bowls of food. Once everyone had filled their plates and commenced eating, compliments rained on Rose.

  “I can’t tell you,” a guide named Davis gushed for about the dozenth time, “how good these here dumplin’s be. I ain’t had none like these in two, three years.”

  A slight pink tinge heightened Rose’s coloring as she smiled. “I do thank you. When we’ve finished, I’ve a surprise for you all.”

  All eyes swung to her as the visitors continued to stuff themselves.

  “There are trees in this area that bear a lovely red-orange fruit the Shawnees like to cook. Nate told me they’re called persimmons. I’ve added some persimmon, along with nuts and spices
, to a pudding I hope you’ll find quite tasty.”

  One of the longhunters slid a sidelong glance toward Nate. “If ‘n you ever take a notion to get shed o’ that useless man o’ yourn, I’d be mighty pleased to take you to wife.”

  “And I’d be mighty pleased to crack that head of yours wide open,” Nate grumbled. He started to get up.

  Rose caught his arm. “Darling, he’s merely jesting.”

  Uncoiling, Nate sank back onto the keg. He felt a little foolish, but her calling him “darling” did much to ease his ire. Too bad it was all for show.

  Mr. Hawkes, on his other side, chuckled. “Being the husband of the only white woman in the whole of the Ohio Valley must be quite a challenge.”

  Turning to the man, Nate propped up a smile. “You might say that, especially since you brought this wolf pack here with you.”

  “And especially since you’re wed to an exceptionally lovely lady.” Hawkes gave Rose a gracious nod.

  “Thank you, kind sir.” She graced him with a smile then looked down the table toward Bob.

  Nate caught her worried glance but breathed with relief when he saw his partner totally absorbed in quiet conversation with Shining Star.

  Mr. Hawkes shifted his gaze toward the village. “I’ve noticed an unusual amount of attention coming from the Indians, as well.”

  Since most of the villagers were taking advantage of the unseasonably mild temperature, reminiscent of an Indian summer day, a good number of them did happen to be looking toward their festive gathering. “We never took our Sabbath meal at table before. Most of ’em have prob’ly never seen such a sight, us eatin’ out here like this.”

  Rose touched his arm. “Sweetheart, we should invite the chiefs and their families to a Sabbath meal soon.”

  Hawkes returned his attention to her. “Ah. So your true goal, Mistress Kinyon, is to civilize the savages, then.”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “The Good Book says we’re to love our neighbors, and they are my neighbors.”

  “We can only hope and pray it will always be that way.” The official relaxed on his seat. Nate sensed a covert meaning hidden within those benign-sounding words and wasn’t surprised when Hawkes turned to him. “I’m rather surprised that none of those neighbors dropped by the trading post as yet to look over the new goods we brought.”

  Nate cocked his head back and forth. “They’ll hightail it up here once you leave.”

  “Mebbe the redskins don’t like the way we smell.” The red-bearded longhunter whacked his thigh in mirth then sobered. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am.”

  Hawkes cut a glance to his partners then back at Nate. “I’ll settle up with you, so we can load up the bundles of furs and be out of here at first light. And if I don’t see you then, I want to thank you again for manning the trading post so efficiently since Mr. Smith’s untimely death, and for locating so many prime pelts for the company on your trip downstream.”

  Rose came to her feet, and every man present started scrambling to his. “Please, gentlemen, remain seated. I’m merely going to fetch the spiced persimmon pudding.”

  “Spiced persimmon pudding,” young Mr. Jenkins echoed on a wistful breath. “Sounds like music to my ears.”

  Kinda like her voice sounds to mine. Nate followed Rose’s movements as she walked away. He liked the way she moved. In fact, he liked a whole lot of things about Rose Harwood. She seemed to grow on him more with each passing hour.

  If only she’d change her mind about him.

  As the sky darkened and bright stars spangled the clear, cool expanse overhead, Rose took the baby inside her wigwam to settle her down for the night. Nate was relieved and gladdened as he sat bundled in a fur robe around the outside fire with the three company men and Bob, and Bob’s Indian maiden, of course. She was never far from him. The last of the counting in the trading post was done, of stock coming in and furs going out. And Nate had a cup of hot tea in his hand and plenty of coin jingling in his pouch. Rose would be real pleased.

  Music from a reed flute drifted from the Shawnee village, with drums throbbing a beat.

  “What does that mean?” Alarm rang in Mr. Parker’s voice.

  “Just makin’ music.” Bob’s gaze gravitated to Shining Star. “Prob’ly just some young bucks tryin’ to impress a shy maiden.”

  Nate chuckled. “Or they’re lettin’ us know we’re not the only ones who can have a party.”

  Mr. Jenkins nodded. “They did seem quite interested in our dinner. They must have been curious about what we were all saying.”

  Leaning forward, Mr. Hawkes’s expression looked deadly serious in the firelight. “There’s something I forgot to mention earlier. The reason Joe Frazier wasn’t at his trading post was because he was out looking for his villagers. They’d all disappeared during the night. They knew the French were coming and didn’t want to get caught in the middle. Even though they prefer our goods, they’re more than willing to trade with whoever sets up a post, English or French.”

  “That’s good to know.” Nate rubbed his chin in thought, wondering if these Shawnee villagers would prove to be as disloyal.

  Shining Star seemed to detect the seriousness of the moment. Her slender brows knitted with concern, she quietly spoke to Bob. His answer seemed to satisfy her, and she relaxed against him again.

  From the corner of his eye, Nate caught a flash of movement. “Here comes Rose,” he said in a low voice, then raised the volume. “Has the Potomac started freezin’ yet? The stream behind the corrals was frozen half the mornin’ yesterday.”

  “No, not yet.” Mr. Hawkes rose to his feet. “Mistress Kinyon, do join us.”

  “Why thank you.” She came into the light, her heavy woolen cloak snug around her.

  Nate flashed her a grin. “I take it you got our little Jenny-girl all settled down for the night, my love.”

  The smile she offered did look genuine as she plucked a cup off a nearby rock and poured some tea from the kettle. “Hopefully, yes.”

  Pulling back the robe covering his legs, he patted the spot next to him on the sitting log. “Come sit with me, sweetheart.” He sure did like playing the part of her husband. Maybe soon…

  As Rose complied, Nate draped an arm about her shoulders, surprised when she actually leaned into him—even if it was only ever so slightly.

  She took a sip of her tea. “I’ve a fire going in all the wigwams to warm them up. And I’ve placed blankets and fur robes in the large one over there.” She pointed to the one the Susquehannock brothers had used. “Of course, you may want to add your own bedding. It seems to be turning quite chilly.”

  “Thank you,” Mr. Hawkes said with a polite bow of his head. “You’ve been a far more gracious hostess than we could ever have imagined.”

  “Well, I do hope your workmen won’t mind staying in the trading post.”

  “That’s better accommodations than they’ve had on the trail thus far.”

  Young Mr. Jenkins leaned forward. “Where exactly did you come from in England, Mistress Kinyon? I hope to go to Britain for a visit one day soon.”

  Rose smiled at him. “Were you to make port at Bristol, you’d not be far from my city, Bath.”

  “I’ve heard of that place. Isn’t that where all the rich people go on holiday?”

  “Why, yes, it is.” She settled more comfortably at Nate’s side. “They come to soak in the hot mineral springs and to take in the plays and balls, of course. But I prefer to think that more importantly, they come to see and be seen. I’m sure you’d enjoy a visit there most thoroughly.”

  Watching Mr. Hawkes, Nate perceived the man’s suspicious nature coming again to the fore as he stared at Rose as if she were telling lies. He had the greatest urge to blacken that company man’s judging eyes.

  “And you left all that for this?” Hawkes made a wide arc with his arm.

  She stiffened a bit. “I’m afraid you misunderstood me, sir. Bath was my home, not a place I visited. My father owns a smal
l shop there.”

  Jenkins brightened. “Perhaps you could persuade your father to carry some of our furs.”

  “That sounds quite lovely, but for the shops in Bath they’d need to be fashioned into elegant wraps and other accessories.”

  Thin Mr. Parker finally entered the conversation. “No wonder Mistress Kinyon is well accomplished in the art of display, being the daughter of a shopkeeper.”

  Nate felt Rose relax again as a small laugh bubbled out of her. “Actually, I learned far more from visiting other shops, if you must know.”

  The statement puzzled Nate. He’d never thought of her as a spendthrift.

  Jenkins looked from her to Nate and back to her. “From what I’ve heard, the English have the finest shops in the world, with treasures brought in from all the most exotic places around the globe. Coming to the colonies, and then out here to the wilderness, must have been quite a dramatic change for you.”

  Still smiling, she tilted her head. “More so for my sister. More often than not, I was accompanying her in her quest for the latest fabrics and trims.”

  “I see.”

  Mr. Hawkes frowned. “Your sister came to America with you?”

  Even Nate felt Rose’s sharp intake of breath, as if their nosy employer was beginning to wear on her the way he was on Nate.

  “Quite right. She currently resides with a plantation family adjacent to the Potomac River.”

  “You don’t say.” His interest obviously piqued, Hawkes straightened. “Perhaps I know them.”

  “Are you acquainted with the Barclay family?”

  “The Barclays! Of Barclay Enterprises?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Why in the world would a lady like yourself allow Kinyon to drag you this deep into Indian country?”

  At this, Nate reached the boiling point. Employer or not, the bounder needed his face smashed in. Pulling his arm from behind Rose, he—