At his words, relief surged through Lily. “Oh. Thank heavens. Then you’ll know what can be done for my mistress. That’s splendid.”
His expression did not waver. He wagged his head and sighed. “I’m afraid it’s quite the opposite, child. I tried every remedy possible. The good woman continued to waste away and finally passed on, leaving all my colleagues in Philadelphia and Boston as baffled as I was.”
Alarm tightened Lily’s throat. “Surely there’s still hope for Susan! There must be something you can try. Some way to alleviate her condition.”
“The most advice I can offer at this point is to keep Mrs. Waldon as comfortable as possible, until….”
Having her hopes dashed at her feet, Lily’s heart plummeted. She jumped up. “That’s it? There’s nothing to be done? I refuse to accept that.” Angry now, her breaths came out fast and hard as she crossed her arms in despair.
“What’s happening?” Davy charged into the cabin, clutching carrots in his hand. “Are you gonna do somethin’ without me?”
Schooling her features, Lily composed herself and knelt down to his level. “No, dear. We won’t do a single thing without you. Thank you for fetching the carrots for our stew.” She took them and stood up.
A flash of movement out the window revealed Emma coming, soft-footed and cautious as she toted the big, heavy pitcher of buttermilk.
Suddenly the dire news the doctor had uttered filled Lily with new horror. Her knees went weak, and she caught hold of the chairback. Dear Emmy. Would the sweet child one day suffer the same terrible fate as her mother?
Mr. Gilford spent nearly every waking moment of the next two heartrending days with his daughter. His presence lifted Susan’s spirits so there seemed a slight improvement in her condition. Her smiles came more easily, and Lily often heard light laughter drifting from the bedchamber where Susan visited with her father.
But the time had come for the party to leave for Philadelphia once again. Passing by the room, Lily caught sight of Mr. Gilford sitting on the edge of Susan’s bed, rocking her in his arms and kissing her. Their tearful farewell brought a lump to Lily’s throat. She feared it would be their last time together.
The man’s voice was husky with emotion as he murmured in his daughter’s ear. “The moment I get home, honeybee, I’ll make arrangements to bring your mother to visit you. It’ll take awhile longer to get here next time, though, since we’ll have to travel upriver.”
“I know, Papa. Mama could never abide riding horseback.” Susan brushed at her tears with a trembling hand. “Thank you for…being my papa again. I missed you so.”
He buried his face in her hair and clasped her tight. “I can’t believe I let my foolish pride come between us. It was unpardonable. I shall never forgive myself.” Finally he eased away and stood to his feet, emitting a ragged breath as he gazed down at the wasted form of his once-healthy child. “I love you, my darling daughter,” he mumbled hoarsely and rushed from the room.
Lily barely got out of his way as he stumbled toward the front door, his fists rubbing his eyes. Running after him, she nearly collided with him when he stopped short.
He swiveled on his heel, his eyes red and puffy. “I loathe having to leave my darling girl here. It’s not safe.” He’d expressed the sentiment several times since his arrival. “If only she could…”
Lily placed an empathetic hand on his arm. “I know, sir. If only.”
“The French are on the move down from Lake Ontario again, you know. And with a very large force.”
“Yes, so you’ve mentioned before. And if you’re aware of that, I’m certain the commanders of our northern forts are, as well. I pray they’ll be better prepared this year.”
Mr. Gilford scoffed. “They would if they’d put brave fighters like our Rogers’ Rangers in charge. But no—the king sends us cowards from England to lead our men. What a waste.” His eyes narrowed. “John Waldon should never have abandoned my daughter here to face this danger alone. That mortician’s whelp has no business—”
Lily squeezed his arm and frowned. “Please sir, do lower your voice.”
He glanced toward Susan’s room and drew a futile breath.
“Mr. Gilford, when John’s militia was called to service, Susan was suffering only from swollen joints. And though he desperately wants to be here now, you know he would be charged with desertion were he to leave his post.”
“Yes. Well. We’ll see about that. The man should be here. His superior is Captain Busse, I believe you said. Rest assured, I’ll be paying Governor Denny a visit as soon as I reach Philadelphia. I am not without influence, I assure you.”
“In that case, I shall pray for your success. All of us would appreciate having John home where he belongs. Susan needs him now, most desperately.”
His pale brows flattened as his demeanor eased, and he touched the side of her face, bringing to Lily’s mind the remembrance of John’s parting touch. “You are an incredibly brave lass, Lily Harwood. My daughter cannot say enough good things about you. I’d like to thank you personally for taking such wonderful care of my Susan and the children.” He paused. “Speaking of the children…” Turning, he opened the door and strode outside.
A few yards beyond the porch, the youngsters stood waiting with Dr. Shelby and the frontiersmen. The three men sat astride their mounts. Mr. Gilford approached the group but spoke to his grandchildren. “Dear ones, my offer still stands. Any of you who would like to come with me and see where we live, I’d be more than happy to take you along. Emma?” He moved closer to the little girl. “Your Grandmother Gilford would dearly love to meet you, to see how much you look like your mama did when she was your age.”
Emma shyly met his gaze. “I thought you said you were going to bring her here.”
“That’s true. I did say that.”
“Then thank you, Grampa, but I can see her then. My mama needs me here.”
“Wait!” Davy shoved between his sister and the older man. “I changed my mind. I want to go to Phila—Phila—def. I’m a good rider, you’ll see. I won’t fall off. I wanna go.” Excitement laced his expression. “But I hafta be back for supper. Lily’s makin’ apple pandowdy just for me.”
Mr. Gilford knelt down before the child. “I’m afraid you’d have to skip supper if you came with us, Davy. It takes three days to get to Philadelphia on horseback.”
“Nights, too?” He took a step back. “I guess I shouldn’t go so far. Mama and Lily’d miss me too much.”
“Yes, lad.” His grandfather sighed. “I suppose they would.” He turned to the older boys and extended a hand to them in a firm grasp. “You’re the men of the house while your father is away. I’m counting on you to take care of my dear ones.” Then, looking back at Lily with a sad wag of his head, he mounted his horse, and the group rode away.
The wall clock in Captain Busse’s office ticked off seconds as the man sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled over his stomach. “Look here, Waldon. If I were to allow everyone leave who says he has someone who needs him at home, there wouldn’t be a—” Waving a hand uselessly in the air, he shook his head. “You know what I mean.”
John tipped his head, hoping. “But sir, Bob Randall and Pat MacBride can verify what I’m saying. My wife is failing fast. I fear she won’t be with us much longer.” It galled him to have to beg for something that, under normal circumstances, would be a given. But he had to try.
“Might I remind you that you told me your wife was ailing over a year ago, and she hasn’t passed on yet.”
Rage boiled up inside John. The man was not only devoid of sensitivity, he was inferring John was a liar.
At John’s stony silence, Busse came to his feet behind his desk. “I apologize, Corporal Waldon. That was a horrible thing to say. Truth is, since I was ordered to send half our men north to Fort Augusta, I simply can’t spare a man. The folks in the settlements south of here are depending on us—including your own family.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry. I can�
�t give you leave.”
A knock sounded on the office door.
“Come in.” Busse hiked his chin at John. “That’ll be all.”
The orderly saluted the commander as he passed John in the doorway. “Governor Denny just rode in with a party of men, sir.”
“Reinforcements?” The leader’s tone held an optimistic note.
John felt renewed hope himself. Maybe he’d be given leave yet.
“Sorry, sir. Merely an escort.”
Despite his disappointment, John couldn’t help feeling impressed that the governor himself had come here. Had the war ended? Had he come all the way from Philadelphia to announce it personally?
Glancing out the headquarters’ door John spotted a distinguished-looking man who must be the governor out on the porch, facing rapidly gathering militiamen. Obviously they, too, knew there had to be an important reason for someone in such a high position to visit this remote fort.
“Men.” The gentleman in his fine attire raised a hand for order. “First of all, I wish to thank each and every one of you for your service. If not for your sacrifice, we, the citizens of Pennsylvania, would not be able to rest at night. Therefore it is vital that when your year is up, you re-enlist.”
Groans of outrage came from every quarter as the enlisted men swapped dark glowers.
Flicking travel dust from his frock coat, the governor shifted his stance. “Men, our very colony is at stake. I entreat you to write to your friends and neighbors. Ask them to come and join you in this fight.”
A shout came from the ranks. “What friends? What neighbors? Every settler that can be spared’s already here.”
Governor Denny gave a grave nod. “Then we must dig deeper. Sacrifice more to save our colony. The situation is quite dire. Last year the burning and pillaging came within thirty miles of Philadelphia.”
“Then how about you give this speech to all them city fellas sleepin’ safe an’ sound in Philadelphia?” came from the back of the gathering. “We ain’t seen hide nor hair of none of them hereabouts.”
Bob Randall chimed in from the side. “And while you’re at it, send back our men who got sent up to Fort Augusta. We’re spread thinner than skimmed milk here. And we got a lot a territory that needs coverin’ betwixt us an’ the other forts.”
“Hear! Hear!” shouted others in chorus.
The governor raised his hand for silence. “Again, I thank you all. I shall speak to you more formally once I’ve had a chance to confer with your commander.” With that, he heeled around and headed for the doorway John occupied.
John quickly stepped aside, glad the men had spoken their minds. He joined Bob as the crowd began to disperse. “In November, when my enlistment is up, it’ll take a whole lot more to get me to sign up again than some glad-hander showing up with lots of words, but without a single company of reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements!” Behind Bob, militiaman Fred Stuart snorted. “I overheard one of the governor’s escorts admit that even New York Indian Agent William Johnson can’t rally his Mohawks to fight for us anymore—and you know how they love bloodying those tomahawks of theirs.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” Bob huffed. “I heard they think of him as one of their war chiefs. Isn’t Johnson married to one of their Indian princesses?”
“I say we all just walk on outta here right now,” Stuart muttered. “Go collect our families and traipse on down to Philadelphia and sit down on our behinds, like them fine city folks are doin’.”
Bob sniffed in disdain. “If we did that, the Frenchies would move in and burn up everything we spent all this time breakin’ our backs over.”
John nodded in sad agreement. “We hoped to give our children a future they’d never have if we hadn’t come out here.” He sighed. “Being away from my family for months on end, it’s hard sometimes to remember why I’m here.” He turned to Bob. “Busse turned down my request for leave. Again.”
His friend clapped him on the shoulder with a commiserating wince. “Sorry. I figured he would.”
“But…Susan’s dying, Bob. I can feel it right here.” He pressed a fist to his chest. “She’s dying, and I’m not there. Duty or no duty, I’d never be able to live with myself if I couldn’t be with her at…the end.” He all but choked on the last word.
Chapter 8
Susan…Susan…Please speak to me.” Leaning over the bed, Lily gently shook her friend’s arm. A wave of grief washed over her like a flood. There was no denying the end was near. Susan’s breathing during the night had become so labored Lily had been unable to sleep. She’d gotten up several times to check on her. Now, finding no response except that horrid rasping, Lily could only send desperate pleas heavenward, praying for strength…praying for her friend to live one more day…praying that John would come to be with his wife in her final moments. Susan deserved that much. So did he.
Scuffing and banging came from the main room as the children readied the house for the Sabbath gathering. They don’t even realize it may be their mother’s last day, Lord. A heaviness pressed on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Should she tell them before the service, or spare them? What should I do?
Stepping out of the bedchamber, she quietly closed the door. A quick glance revealed the older boys setting up the benches.
“Hurry up, Lily.” Matt plunked his end of the board down atop a keg. “You’re not dressed for church. Folks’ll be comin’ any minute.”
Afraid to open her mouth for fear her throat would close around the dreadful news, Lily schooled her expression to remain composed and acknowledged him with a nod. She spied Emma across the way, trying to tame Davy’s cowlick with a comb as the imp squirmed beneath his sister’s hand. The children were so happy, so busy. How could she steal their joy by telling them about their mother now? She propped up a smile. “Your mama doesn’t feel up to joining us for the service this morning. I think it’s best if we don’t disturb her. We’ll let her rest.”
Walking into the bedroom she shared with Emma, grief gave way to anger. How could she concentrate on something so trivial as dressing? John should be here. He’d seen his wife’s condition before he’d gone off almost three months ago. He had to know Susan would only continue to grow weaker. Lily had sent word relating the situation not two weeks past. Surely it had reached him.
And what of Susan’s parents? Mr. Gilford had promised to return posthaste with his wife, yet where were they? Five weeks allowed them more than sufficient time to return by river. Their daughter and her children had been waiting for them, watching for them, for the past fortnight.
Dear, sweet Susan. She’d suffered more than a body should endure. How it hurt to see the pain in her eyes, and in the children’s, as she grew steadily more fragile and helpless. If her parents ever did arrive, it would likely be too late.
Weary from too little sleep and already sticky from the July heat, Lily slipped into the bare minimum of petticoats and tossed on the first gown she touched. Whipping her hair up into a simple knot, she jammed enough pins in to hold it in place, hoping the dark circles under her eyes would keep Robby Randall from being such a pest today. She had no patience for his constant hovering.
She sighed and turned away from the mirror. The last thing she felt like doing was taking part in a Sabbath meeting. She swept her eyes toward the ceiling. Father God, please fill me with Your love and charity. And please, tamp down the rage building inside me. Susan so needs Your touch now. I don’t know how to pray for her. She’s in Your hands. Please be merciful…. She’s suffered for such a long time. Drawing a calming breath only reminded her of her dear friend’s constant struggle for air. Life was so unfair to the poor, abandoned wife.
Adult voices drifted from the other side of her door as neighbors began to arrive. Straightening her shoulders, Lily manufactured as much of a smile as she could and went out to greet them. Why, oh why, did this have to be the Sabbath?
“There you are, Miss Lily.” Ian MacBride bobbed his white
head in greeting as he strode toward her between two rows of benches. He flicked a thumb in the direction of the door. “The others are still outside, tryin’ to keep cool.”
“ ’Tis rather close this morning, is it not?” Lily flattened her lips.
The elder held out a thick, folded paper to her. “A fella goin’ upstream dropped this letter off with yer name on. From that Mr. Gilford, looks like.”
She elevated a brow in scorn. “A letter? Fancy excuses, more likely.” Her eyes swam as she looked up at him. “Even as we speak, their daughter is in there dying, and her father sends a useless letter.”
Moved by the news, the Scot wheeled around and bolted for the door.
Men. Lily glared after him. All they ever want to do is escape.
“Maggie, lass,” Ian called. “Come inside, would ye? I need to speak with ye.”
His wife appeared at once, as if she guessed something was amiss. Lines of concern deepened in her long, thin face as her astute, azure eyes beneath the ruffled cap looked right at Lily. “Oh, no. Has Susan passed? The children don’t seem out of sorts.”
“No. She’s still with us…unless she stopped breathing while I was dressing.” Unwilling to let the couple see how truly desperate she felt, Lily averted her gaze to the plank floor.
Margaret MacBride gave a commiserating squeeze to Lily’s shoulder as she and her husband crossed to the sickroom.
Lily trailed behind them, feeling a pang of remorse for having misjudged them both. The older woman’s presence always brought comfort, and Lily more than appreciated her patient concern, her motherly advice.
“Merciful heavens,” Margaret murmured as she caught sight of Susan, gasping open-mouthed for every breath. She sank down onto the bedside chair and took Susan’s limp hand. “How long has the dear child been like this?” She swung a questioning glance to Lily.
“I first heard her shortly after I retired last eve.”
Daughters of Harwood House Trilogy : Three Romances Tell the Saga of Sisters Sold into Indentured Service (9781630586140) Page 69
