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

by Crawford, Dianna; Laity, Sally

  “Lily!”

  “Coming, Matty.” Still staring in puzzlement after the boy’s father, she collected herself and hurried to the long table where Matt and Luke sat proud and tall with the men after having worked alongside them all morning.

  “Here you are.” Filling the older lad’s glass, she gave him a teasing smile, then did the same for Luke before moving to their friend Sam.

  “Don’t forget me, Miss Lily.” Jackson Dunlap flashed a devilish grin from the far end of the table, a glint in his brown eyes.

  Lily was grateful most of the neighbors were too busy devouring their food to notice his impropriety. “After I take care of this end.” She managed not to gloat when the young man’s grin lost luster. He’d been most persistent this week, cornering her with brazen stares while offering flimsy excuses for crossing the creek and coming to the cabin time and again.

  But then, being twenty-two, the oldest bachelor in the valley, it was probably natural for Jackson to feel desperate. Three years of militia duty had cost him his chance to seek out marriageable young maidens from the other settlements along Swatara Creek. Lily kept that in mind as she ignored his advances.

  Just then, Ian’s wife, tall, bony Margaret MacBride, approached the table with another platter of chicken, the ruffled cap hiding her braided gray coronet bobbing with each step. The woman’s faded blue eyes never missed a thing. Lily was relieved for Maggie’s presence as she neared the Dunlap brothers, whose shameless leering made her feel undressed. She steeled her features against that discomfiting awareness and reached past Jackson to retrieve his glass, actually detecting heat radiating from him.

  When she replaced the glass, his callused hand clamped over hers.

  She jerked hers away in reflex, knocking over his drink. Water spilled everywhere.

  “Dunlap! That’ll do.” John’s demanding censure came from the porch.

  Lily and Jackson both swung their attention to him.

  “You about through there?”

  “No, sir, not quite.” A tiny smirk tweaked the young man’s mouth as he turned back to his plate and picked up his fork, swapping a snicker with his brother as he shoveled in a chunk of venison.

  Lily surmised John had been watching from the doorway, and her spirit felt lighter as she refilled Jackson’s drink. John’s proprietary tone made it clear that he disapproved of Jackson Dunlap’s pawing. She especially liked his thinking she was dear and calling her his blessing. Not Jackson’s. Never Jackson’s.

  Nine o’clock arrived, and tiny stars speckled the night sky as the men finished chinking the new blockhouse in the glow of lantern light. The evening had gradually cooled, with crickets and tree toads trilling in chorus.

  Stretching a kink in his back at the rear of the newly completed structure, John felt as old as Ian. It had been a long, grueling week, plowing and planting till two each afternoon, then felling, stripping, and sizing trees until dark. Today had been the hardest, hoisting the ungainly logs into place, then laying the upper floor, and finally constructing the roof. Every bone in his body ached in protest when he bent to pick up a lamp in each hand.

  “Pa!” Frank Dunlap’s voice retained an unbelievable measure of energy as the nineteen-year-old called out to his father. “Get your fiddle and strike up a tune. I’ll fetch the gals.”

  “Hold on there, laddie.” Ian MacBride’s gravelly voice threw a damper on the suggestion. “It’s too late for a frolic tonight. The wee ones are all tuckered out, and I dunna’ mind sayin’ that includes me.”

  “Same here, Ian. Same here,” several neighbors echoed with weary finality. A murmur of assent flowed through the group.

  Donny Randall let out a huff. “But Grampa Mac. That’s why we worked hard to finish up. Besides, Cissy and Judy both promised me a dance.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he jammed his hands into his trouser pockets.

  His father grunted. “No, Son, the reason we worked so hard was to make sure our loved ones will be safe while we men are away.”

  “But that’s not fair,” older brother Robby chimed in.

  The other lads, frowning in mutinous agreement, grumbled their displeasure. The shadows cast by the scattered lanterns exaggerated their woebegone expressions.

  Not to be dissuaded, MacBride raised a calming hand. “Tell ye what. After Sunday service tomorrow, and after our Sabbath meal, we’ll have a wee bit of music to celebrate this occasion. What d’ye say?”

  “You mean that?” A note of doubt colored Jackson’s tone.

  The elder’s whiskers flared with his broad smile. “I dunna’ reckon the Lord’ll mind a little singin’ and dancin’. Folks in Bible days danced with joy to the Lord from time to time, ye ken. So as long as you lads keep in mind it is the Sabbath, we’ll do our celebratin’ on the morrow.”

  Jackson jabbed his brother in the ribs and muttered under his breath. “The old goat can dance his way, and I’ll dance mine…holdin’ on to my sweet Lily.”

  Standing close enough to the pair to overhear the comment—and even to knock those two woodsy heads together—John clenched his fingers around the lantern handles to restrain himself. Lily came to the cove as a penniless bond servant, and he should be thrilled she was so popular, but elation over that prospect eluded him. He did have prior claim, after all. And Susan, of course. Please, dear Lord, help me to be happy for her…. You know I’m not.

  After the last wagon headed off into the crisp night, John trudged across the porch and into the house. The warmth from the hearth burned his face, reminding him he hadn’t been inside since visiting with Susan at noon. A small lamp and the fireplace illuminated the main room, and a quick glance about revealed it was empty except for Lily.

  She sat at the hearth end of the dining table, elbows propped on its surface, her hands circling a cup. She looked up and shook her head. “You look as exhausted as the boys did when they came in. Come sit by the fire. I’ll get you a cup of tea. How about some of Nancy’s sweet ginger biscuits to go with it?”

  “Sounds wonderful.” Grasping the tails of his outerwear to lift the garment over his head, he paused, watching her go for the refreshments. A sudden wave of grief swamped him. Blinking hard against a stinging in his eyes, he turned away and stripped off his coarsely woven overshirt. A few short days and he’d leave home again. He’d sorely miss having someone care enough to wait up for him after a grueling day, offering him tea and a little sympathy…like sweet, lovely Lily.

  He hooked the warm shirt on a spike by the door and took a calming breath before striding to a chair near the hearth. It scraped the plank floor as he tugged it out and dropped onto the seat across from hers.

  “The boys didn’t even have to be told to go to bed tonight,” she said, bringing over his cup and a small plate of cookies. “They hardly managed a good-night before clumping up the ladder to their beds. I doubt they had enough energy to change into their nightshirts.”

  John watched her move gracefully around to the other side of the table and retake her seat. “They worked as hard as the rest of us. I was very proud of them.” Realizing he was still gazing at her, he averted his attention to his tea and brought the steaming cup to his mouth.

  “This has been a good day. So much got accomplished.” Though she’d spoken quietly, her voice sounded years older than it had when she’d first come to live with them, shy and sad at being parted from her sisters. She picked up her own cup. “Being from a prosperous resort city established since Roman days, I’m always amazed at how very different these little wilderness settlements are.”

  Was that her way of hinting she wanted to return to England as soon as she could? John set down his mug. “I reckon they are.”

  She gave a nod. “The full-time residents of Bath are mostly innkeepers and established tradesmen, you know, everyone trying to better themselves financially and socially, never wanting the taint of failure to touch them.”

  “It’s no different in Philadelphia and Baltimore, when it comes right down
to it.”

  “Perhaps. But here in the wilderness, folks are concerned about each other and work together helping one another out. If the people of Bath had been half as caring about the welfare of their neighbors, Papa wouldn’t have felt compelled to hide the fact he’d been cheated out of a huge sum of money. People would have come to our aid and donated enough funds to pay his creditors until Papa could recoup his losses. Folks around here truly live by the Bible principle to love your neighbor as yourself.” Her gaze gravitated to the ceiling. “We hold our church services in this simple abode, yet I feel closer to God here than I ever did in that magnificently ornate cathedral in Bath.”

  She was happy here. John relaxed and gave an offhanded shrug. “It’s a wonderful place to live…even without all the shops you womenfolk love so much.” A teasing smile tugged at his lips.

  Lily chuckled. “Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.”

  Laughter bubbled up inside John, but it died as he noticed how beautifully the firelight played across her blond hair. How…

  Coughing came from the bedroom—his and Susan’s. Assaulted by guilt, he frowned and cocked an ear toward the sound.

  “I spoke to Eva Shepard and Grandma Margaret about her condition today,” Lily said, drawing his attention back to her. “I told them Susan eats hardly anything. Eva suggested that rather than only offering food at mealtimes, I should bring her a little something once every hour and encourage her to take a few bites. And Maggie said Susan should drink water or tea along with it. I do think that might help. I don’t know why I never thought of doing so myself.”

  John released a slow breath. “Mayhap because you have so many other burdens. And now one more is added.”

  Meeting his gaze, Lily offered him a weary smile. “You forget I have the children. Sweet little Emma has taken it upon herself to brush Susan’s hair every morning, and she is careful to be really gentle with her strokes. She also picks wildflowers for her.” She paused in thought. “Even Davy loves to help me with his mama. He’s really a tenderhearted little boy.”

  “Right. When he’s not yelling and stomping his feet in here like a buffalo.”

  Her smile broadened. “He surely is the life of the house. One cannot deny that.”

  And you’re the heart. John barely caught himself from blurting the thought aloud. How could he be thinking such a thing when his beloved wife lay at death’s door? He picked up his cup and drained the last of his tea. “Well, I’d best get to bed myself. The neighbors will be back again in the morning.” Along with that randy pair, Jackson and Frank Dunlap.

  Chapter 6

  Lily paused on the footbridge for a solitary moment. After the Sabbath meal, most of the other young people had hurried across to the blockhouse for its inaugural frolic. As heavy footfalls coming up behind jarred the log beneath her, Lily’s spirits sank. There was no mistaking those Dunlaps.

  Purposely not turning to greet them, she held on to her cheerful attitude while taking measure of the tall, square, newly completed structure. The bottom floor had only one entrance and no windows. The top half of the upper floor, however, was open all the way around, creating a roofed watchtower. “It’s hard to believe you men finished that in such a short time.”

  “We had to.” Frank craned his neck around her. “So you an’ me could dance the first reel together.” A rakish spark lit his dark eyes.

  “Quite right. You did ask before the others.” She deliberately took lively steps away from him.

  “Don’t forget, I get the second,” Jackson reminded from behind his brother.

  “And Robby is third, and Donald fourth.” Though she’d spoken lightly, she thought of the younger girls and turned to face the pair. “ ’Tis important to me that when you dance with the other lasses you really and truly enjoy their company. I’d hate for you to hurt any of their feelings.”

  “That’s what I love about you.” Jackson grinned. “You always think about others before yourself.”

  “And I love your smiling ways.” Frank was not to be outdone.

  Lily looked from one to the other and back. “Thank you both for your flattering comments, but we’d better hurry. I hear your father’s fiddle striking up a tune.”

  Descending the steps cut from the large end of the log, Lily was impressed by Jackson’s surprisingly mature compliment, that he considered her character rather than her appearance. Perhaps her preoccupation elsewhere had blinded her to his attributes. After all, he was part of the military, and that required a certain sense of responsibility. He likely possessed other fine qualities, as well, if given a chance. This afternoon she’d study each of her suitors with a less biased eye.

  Ignoring the steps as they followed her, the brothers leaped off the log. Each grabbed one of her arms, tucking it within his.

  Jackson gave her arm a squeeze. “I’m glad John’s not comin’. A body’d think he was your big brother, the way he watches over you.”

  Lily glanced back across the creek to the house, where on the porch with the older folks, John sat next to Susan, exactly where he should be. His wife needed him so, and his visit was nearing an end. Their time together was precious. Turning forward, she warded off a swell of disappointment by trying to recall Jackson’s compliment, but the words he’d said eluded her. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, thoughts of John stole them away.

  Tears blurred Lily’s vision as she folded the last small loaf of bread in cheesecloth and placed it in the top of John’s knapsack, above the items she’d packed the previous evening. Two week’s leave had passed too quickly, and any moment now, John would emerge from the bedroom, from his last good-bye with Susan.

  He was leaving. How ever would she cope? Or Susan or the children?

  She had to cope. They all would. Blotting the moisture from her eyes with the hem of her apron, she drew a steadying breath.

  The first blush of dawn glimmered in peach-hued glory through the trees. Soon he’d be on his way. She sank onto her dining chair and poured herself another cup of strong tea as she stared at the knapsack slumped on the table. He had to realize how desperately ill Susan was, yet he was determined to report back to military duties. How could he be so callous?

  A creak sounded behind her. The door at the parlor end opened, casting John in a silhouette as he stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door.

  Her chest tightening, Lily came to her feet.

  He crossed the room, and the flicker from the hearth fire mirrored in his clear, blue eyes as he met her gaze. Stopping directly before her, he spoke quietly. “She finally agreed.”

  “To what?” Surely he hadn’t convinced his wife to attempt the trip to Philadelphia!

  “To let us write to her father and have him send a physician here. She knows she’s not strong enough to travel. The man can easily afford to send the best…if he will.”

  Elated, Lily caught his arm. “Oh, John. What a splendid idea.” Then coming to her senses, she removed her hand, lest he think her forward.

  He didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. “Susan probably told you he wrote a letter to her soon after we eloped, saying he’d disowned her. It caused her no end of grief.”

  “Yes. I find it hard to believe a father could be so heartless. She can barely speak of him without tears filling her eyes. It’s been a great sadness.”

  “Has it ever. Over the years, I’ve tried to convince her he’d written those words in the heat of the moment and that if he knew of her illness, he’d want her to get well again.”

  “Indeed. ’Tis only right.”

  He nodded in thought, then tipped his head. “Well, my dear girl, I’m afraid I must be on my way. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you would pen the letter while I saddle Smokey. I’ll take the missive as far as the mouth of the Swatara and give it to someone to take downriver from there. Hopefully, Mr. Gilford will receive it within a week or so.”

  “Y–you’re taking the horse?” Their only horse…


  A gentle smile softened his features. “Only as far as the MacBrides’. Young Michael promised to ride him back later this morning.”

  Somewhat relieved at the news, Lily watched John toss on his heavy hunting shirt and walk out of the cabin. How silly she’d been to panic over an animal. It was John’s departure that warranted all her angst. She would hold herself together until he actually bid her farewell and took his leave. She would get through this. After all, the man was her best friend’s husband. He must never know of the improper desires of her heart. The last person who deserved to be hurt was Susan, her dearest friend in the world.

  After collecting the writing materials, she could hardly concentrate on the correct words to say in her plea to Susan’s father. John’s departure kept intruding. She forced herself to use her finest penmanship, which did help.

  Too soon his footsteps sounded on the steps, and he blew in on a rush of cold morning air.

  Lily folded the hopefully sincere request then dripped wax from a nearby candle to seal it. Rising, she held it out to John. “I did my best to explain her condition and the urgency of her need.” She hoped her emphasis on the word urgency would give John further pause about leaving. Surely he realized his wife’s very life was draining away. How ever could he go?

  “Thank you, Lily-girl. I’ve no doubt about that.” He slipped the letter into his haversack and hooked one arm through its strap. Blinking sudden moisture from his eyes, he swallowed hard. Then he took a step closer and reached out a hand to cup her face. “Please, dear Lily, don’t look so frightened. Cal Patterson and Toby Dunlap have promised to scout the Indian path every day. If they see anything suspicious, they’ll fire warning shots. Don’t forget to answer with a shot of your own. Then immediately reload and—”

  She covered his hand with hers. “I know. You’ve taught me well. And get Susan to the blockhouse as soon as possible.”