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

by Crawford, Dianna; Laity, Sally

  Colin shot a quick glance back at the privates to make sure they hadn’t heard Kinyon’s words. “If you think it’s that bad, why are you still here?”

  “Two reasons. First, I made a promise to that purty li’l gal of yours that I’d look out for you, an’ second, the thought of them Frenchies comin’ down here from Canada thinkin’ they can run us all out sticks in my craw.” He slammed a beefy fist into his palm. “Them Yorkers gotta know the French went down right past their back door. And what about Connecticut an’ Pennsylvania? Where are their militias, I’d like to know.”

  Colin grimaced. “Governor Dinwiddie sent messages out to all the colonies and to our allied tribes. They were all informed of this threat.” He released a ragged breath. “So we’re it. That is, what’s left of us. Almost a hundred men lit out during the night. Guess they figured they’d follow the Indians’ example of three nights ago.”

  “Well, you can’t blame Monakaduto and his bunch for takin’ off. The chief tried to talk Washington into takin’ a stand on top of a hill, ‘stead of down here in the open. But even if we’d done that, the chief still wouldn’t have hung around and risked his women an’ young’uns. We’re way too outnumbered.” He paused. “Speakin’ of young’uns, Rose’s little sister is somewhere up off the Susequehanna. I’m hopin’ if we thin Frenchy’s ranks out enough, they won’t head up thataway. One of the Senecas told me the French are low on powder and supplies, too.”

  Recalling Mariah’s younger sister, Colin nodded. “As I recall, Lily’s owner didn’t pay all that much for her papers. I should’ve thought to send money enough to satisfy him and gotten her out of there months ago.” He peered back over his shoulder at the makeshift circle of pointed poles. “If by some miracle I make it out of here, I’ll do just that.”

  “Meanwhile, we’d best concentrate on the Twenty-third Psalm, that my Rose is fond of quotin’. ‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…’ ”

  Colin glanced out to the dark, shadowy woods that appeared even more sinister under heavy clouds ready to burst at any moment. “David must have had a place like this in mind when he wrote that Psalm, that’s for sure.”

  Kinyon chuckled. “He also wrote, ‘I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.’ ”

  Meeting his gaze, Colin forced as much of a smile as he could muster. “Thanks for the reminder, friend. I’ll pass that on to the men.” He extended a hand to Kinyon. “It’s been good getting to know you. I’d best get back to my men now.”

  “I’ll walk along with you.”

  Bloodcurdling screeches and howling war cries erupted from the far end of the meadow!

  Colin wheeled toward the sound.

  Painted Indians emerged from the forest!

  Adding to the sinister sound of their frightful yowling, the Indians began firing their muskets sporadically. Out of range, the balls fell short of the artillery pieces positioned to fire in that direction.

  Colin raced to the nearest swivel cannon. “Don’t fire until they’re within range!”

  Militiamen streamed out of the stockade and formed a firing line, with Washington in front. They waited for the enemy to advance.

  They did not. Instead, the Indians began dancing, waving their rifles and hatchets and screaming their blood-chilling cries.

  Then firing burst forth from the trees bracketing the long meadow. Rather than marching out into the open field and facing the militia like gentlemen, the French had set up positions on the wooded hills barely fifty yards from the stockade and launched an attack from there.

  Ammunition rained down from both directions in a deadly crossfire.

  “Retreat to the stockade!” Washington hollered amid the deafening racket and flying musket balls.

  Colin turned—

  Another hot and humid day like yesterday. Mariah had promised the girls she’d finish with their lessons early and take Amy riding before noon. Sipping a gloriously cooling, iced lemon drink on the veranda, she waited for her young charge to bring the horses up from the stable. As much as possible, Mariah had avoided going down there since Rose and Nate left last month. She didn’t want to deal with the penetrating looks Geoffrey Scott had been giving her since then.

  Not wanting to be noticed, she glanced out of the corner of her eye toward the stables, where Mr. Scott stood talking to Amy as Old Samuel saddled the horses. Was the trainer questioning the child about her? Wanting to know if Mariah said her prayers at night? Asking what she taught the girls in their Bible lessons?

  She cringed at the thought, recalling a conversation she’d had with Mr. Scott two days after Rose and Nate took their leave:

  “I’d appreciate your opinion,” he’d said. “When our Lord says we’re to pray always, what sort of things do you think we should pray for?”

  “To keep us and those we love safe, of course.” Mariah answered quickly, blithely, considering Colin was in a dangerous situation in the wilderness.

  “Yes, but what else should our prayers concern?”

  She was quite confident in her answer. “At the moment, there couldn’t be anything of more concern than Colin’s safety.”

  “Indeed.” With a narrow-eyed perusal of her, he smirked and turned his back.

  Mariah’s confidence collapsed as he strode away. For once in her life, she wished she’d have been more like Rose and interested in spiritual matters so she could provide wise answers to his questions.

  That evening, in her quest to learn the answer the trainer sought, Mariah asked equally religious Mistress Barclay the same question.

  “That’s a very good question,” the older woman said. “Let’s both study the scriptures on prayer, and we can discuss them next Sunday.”

  That had not turned out well at all. Although much of prayer was supposed to be for the welfare of other Christians, the mistress found three verses in the epistle of James and made them memory verses for the family. They were most disturbing:

  “Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts.” Mistress Barclay considered just about everything Mariah secretly prayed for lust. But then, the woman had everything—she could afford to do as the next verse she wanted memorized said: “Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up.”

  The mistress saved the worst for last: “For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that.”

  Mariah gave a huff. Surely the Lord didn’t expect everyone to wait for God to tell them every move to make every single moment. Besides, it seemed only natural for folks to pray for their desires—wasn’t there a verse somewhere in the Psalms to that effect? Otherwise there would be nothing to pray about but the poor and needy.

  The unsettling memory was terminated as Amy started up the rise astride her pony and leading the other mount. Mariah smiled with relief. A ride along the river road would be most welcome about now. Placing her glass on a side table, she started for the steps.

  Galloping hoofbeats thundered toward them from the other end of the lane. At this time of day?

  She whirled around and entered the house. “A rider is coming! Fast!” she called out.

  Questioning voices and footsteps came from various rooms.

  As Mariah returned outside and flew down the steps, the man skidded his mount to a halt in front.

  “Why the hurry?” Mr. Barclay asked from the top landing.

  “The militia’s comin.’” Panting and out of breath, he continued. “Comin’ down the river road. Your boy was with the militia, wasn’t he?”

  “Aye, that he was.” With that, Colin’s father came down the steps two at a time.

  Mariah’s heart leaped. Her hands flew to her face. Colin was finally coming home!

  Mistress Barclay lifted her skirts and started down with the girls. “Did you see our son, my good man?”

  “No, ma’am. One looks pretty much like all the rest, they’re so ragged and dirty and unshaven. Well, I’m off. Fol
ks down the road’ll be wantin’ to know.” Reining his horse around, he galloped away again as fast as he’d come.

  “Hooray!” Amy clapped her hands. “Colin’s comin’ home!”

  Mr. Barclay snatched the reins of the second horse from Amy’s hand and leaped into the saddle. Without a word, he charged down the road, with Amy chasing him on her pony.

  Wishing she’d thought of the horse first, Mariah ran a few steps after the pair, then stopped to watch. She felt Victoria move alongside her.

  “They will let Colin leave the others and come home now, won’t they?”

  “I certainly hope so, dear.” Her mother, coming up behind, wrapped both Mariah and Victoria in a hug. “Praise the Lord! They’re back. Our Colin is finally coming home.”

  The day grew ever warmer and stickier as Mariah and the others moved up to the veranda to wait. No one spoke as they stood in tense silence, straining their eyes for a glimpse of their returning hero.

  Mariah could scarcely breathe. The rest of her life depended on whether or not Colin still wanted to marry her. If, heaven forbid, he’d been—no, she refused to allow that thought to go further.

  Mistress Barclay sank onto a veranda chair, but within seconds rose again to her feet, watching with the others the far end of the lane.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Mariah considered running down to the river road but knew how foolish that would be in this beastly heat. She’d be all damp and drippy.

  Where were they? What was taking so long?

  Pansy brought a tray of cool drinks without being asked. Remembering the one she’d left on a table moments ago, Mariah picked up her glass and took a gulp. Tension made it hard to swallow.

  The great clock in the entry hall bonged twelve times. She’d come out to go riding at half past eleven. Mr. Barclay and Amy had ridden away over half an hour ago.

  Heather broke the long silence. “Do you think we’ll recognize Colin? I’ve never seen him with a beard.”

  No one answered. More minutes ticked away.

  At long last, two horses and a pony turned onto the tree-shaded lane. They were coming!

  Mariah inhaled a nervous breath and took a sip of her now-warm lemonade.

  One rider broke into a gallop, racing toward them.

  Mariah’s heart kept pace with every hoofbeat as she and the others hurried down the steps. Staring ahead more closely, she slowed. Halted. The man’s beard was golden brown, not black. It was Dennis Tucker. Where was Colin? Icy fear clutched her insides.

  “Tuck!” Victoria gasped, breathless, and ran to him.

  He reined to a swift halt before her and leaped from his mount, grabbing her up and swinging her around.

  They blocked Mariah’s view. She moved past them, still staring into the distance.

  As the other, slower-moving horses neared, she saw that Mr. Barclay’s mount bore two people. Amy plodded along at her father’s side.

  “Thank You, dear Lord,” Mistress Barclay whispered as she came up beside Mariah.

  Amy suddenly kicked her pony’s flanks into a gallop and sped ahead of the other horse, straight to her mother. Tears streamed down her face as she collapsed into the older woman’s arms. “He’s b–blind,” she sobbed. “Colin’s blind.”

  Blind!

  From far away, Mariah heard a gasp, and realized it was hers. Colin couldn’t be blind. He just couldn’t be. She’d prayed. They’d all prayed for his safe return. Her reasons may have been a bit selfish, but his family’s weren’t. How could God do this to him, to her?

  Yet there he was, hanging on behind his father, hatless, a dingy white bandage wrapped around his head, shrouding his eyes. As they came closer, Mariah saw an angry red scar slashed down his temple. They came to a stop in front of her. Colin’s hair was pulled back in a dull, limp queue, his clothes torn and filthy. Worst of all was the look of defeat where there should have been a smile. Did he even know where he was?

  Words were coming at her. Mistress Barclay grabbed her arm and gave it a shake. “Did you hear me, Mariah? I said run into the house and order a bath for Colin.”

  “Y–yes. Of course,” she choked out.

  Colin’s head turned toward her.

  “And food for you, Colin.” She forced a brightness she didn’t feel into her tone. “I know you must be famished for Eloise’s good cooking.”

  Glad for the chance to escape, she grasped her skirts and raced up the steps, her mind a stunned whirl of confusion. Not all blindness was permanent, she reasoned. But as she reached the butlery door, a shocking thought surfaced. What if Colin’s was? What good would her beauty—her primary asset—be then? It would mean nothing at all to him—if he even remembered her. Men with head injuries were often left addled thereafter.

  She entered the butlery, her thoughts still in turmoil. Even if he still possessed a competent mind, what would life be like married to a blind man, waiting on him, leading him around wherever they went? Could she deal with a challenge like that? For that matter, could he? It wasn’t fair. This should not have happened.

  A sudden surge of anger overtook her. Colin had no one to blame but himself. He should never have left here in the first place. Was that blasted honor of his worth his sight?

  Worth her hopes?

  Chapter 28

  Entering the kitchen, Mariah found Eloise wringing her hands and muttering under her breath as she paced back and forth. “My po’ boy. My po’ boy.”

  Pansy sat at the worktable blindly peeling a turnip while tears coursed down her face.

  The sight of the slaves’ anguish nearly made Mariah break down, too, but she had to stay in control. She drew a calming breath. “This situation is most disturbing for us all. But we must try to be as brave as I know he was.”

  “Does y’all know somethin’ ’bout Mastah Colin dat we don’t?” Pansy swiped at her dark eyes with the edge of her work apron.

  Aware that the maid had misunderstood, Mariah shook her head. “I simply know that Colin is incapable of doing anything that’s not heroic. Eloise, would you please fix a plate of food for him right away, and start heating water for a bath?” Without waiting for a response, she started to leave, then turned back. “Oh, I forgot. Dennis Tucker is here. I’m sure he’d appreciate something to eat as well.”

  Walking back through the butlery, Mariah had another thought. If the militia was returning, where was Rose’s husband? He’d promised to keep Colin safe, but obviously he hadn’t done that. He was probably too ashamed to show his face here.

  Voices drifted toward her when she opened the door to the foyer. Gripped again by a sudden urge to cry, she pulled the door almost closed, leaving only a crack to peek through.

  With his head still swathed in bandages, Colin came through the front door, supported on either side by his parents. Was he so addled that it took both of them to guide him?

  The girls and Tuck streamed into the house just behind Colin, and though Victoria still clung to Tuck, her worried gaze never left her brother. Nor did anyone else’s.

  Colin shrugged out of his parents’ grasp and reached for the cloth covering his eyes, lowering it.

  Although Mariah’s first instinct was to turn away, she forced herself to leave the protection of the door and move closer to see how much damage had been done to his wonderful face. To her surprise, his eyes looked as velvety brown as ever. Only his black beard and the red scar slashing his temple marred his appearance. Perhaps he wasn’t blind after all! Please, God, don’t let him be blind.

  “Sunlight hurts my eyes,” Colin said, the first words Mariah had heard him utter. And they were sane words!

  “Then you can see, darling!” Joy filled Mistress Barclay’s expression as she took his hand.

  “No, Mother. Only light and shadows.”

  “But it’s something, at least. Perhaps it will improve with time.”

  He released a weary breath. “The physician who examined me at Fredrick Town said if I hadn’t started
improvin’ by now, he doubts I’ll get much better.” The statement came out in a flat tone, as if he spoke of nothing more important than the weather.

  Mariah felt tears forming. She blinked them away.

  Looking every bit as devastated as Mariah felt, Colin’s mother reached out a hand and gently touched his face.

  He flinched.

  “Whatever future lies before us, my darling, the Good Lord will see us through,” the mistress murmured. “We’re just so thrilled to have you home again.”

  “Thank you, Mother. But right now, would you mind just seein’ me to my room? I’m really quite tired.” His monotone words betrayed no more emotion than his face.

  Mariah bit the inside corner of her lips. He hadn’t once asked for her. Was the old Colin gone? Forever?

  Sorrow filled her as she watched Colin’s parents assisting him up the stairs. The fear she’d most dreaded turned into a reality. Her Colin was gone. When the others gravitated to the parlor, she followed, not knowing what else to do.

  The girls, talking all at once, hurled questions at Dennis Tucker.

  “How did Colin get hurt?”

  “Do you think he’ll get better?”

  Tuck held up his hands. “Whoa. Sit down, and I’ll tell you what happened.”

  Mariah, as desperately curious as the sisters, sought the nearest chair and sank onto it.

  Dennis remained standing.

  “Sit, please.” Victoria scooted over on the settee and patted the cushion beside her.

  “No, I’m far too dirty.” He inhaled a deep breath as his gaze turned to Mariah.

  She wondered if Colin had told his friend about their secret betrothal. Unsure, she lowered her gaze to her hands, not wanting him to see her pain. She slowly raised her lashes as he began to speak.

  “Colin was outside the stockade helpin’ his men set up some swivel cannons when the French attacked us. Out in the open like he was, he didn’t have a chance. Nate Kinyon was also out there. As soon as Colin fell, Nate hoisted him up and hauled him back inside the stockade. A musket ball caught him in the leg, but that didn’t stop him. Colin owes his life to that brave frontiersman.”