Bob Randall’s petite wife, Edith, stood on one side, frowning as she idly twisted an errant mousy brown curl around a finger. Hearing Lily, she flashed a worried smile. Her son Robby had ridden out with the men. “Did you get any sleep?” she asked in her quiet way, concern softening her light brown eyes.
Lily only grimaced.
“Nancy woke up about half an hour ago. The two of you shouldn’t have taken the entire night watch. You should’a woke me an’ Ruthie up.”
“We couldn’t sleep. Where is everyone?”
“Down there.” Edith nodded below. “They’re havin’ a picnic outside. We told them not to get too noisy.”
Joining her neighbor at the rail, Lily gazed down on the scene. It looked so pastoral with everyone gathered on several quilts in the shade of the structure. The women chatted, and the little ones giggled as they ate from wooden trenchers or tin plates. Her little Davy, being his usual busy self, was using his spoon to sword fight with his friend Joey.
Nancy, however, stood off by herself, looking northward, anguish frozen on her face.
Knowing exactly how her neighbor felt, Lily focused across at the cabin. Susan’s body still lay over there…a day and a half in this relentless summer heat. Something must be done. Now. Today.
Exiting the building, she walked around to its shady east side.
“Lily, girl.” Margaret waved her over. “Come and have something to eat, child. Sit with us a spell.”
Even though she hadn’t eaten since the night before last, Lily had no appetite. She did force herself to swallow a few bites before Davy came running, full of questions.
“Did my mama really go to heaven, like Socks? Where’s Emmy? When’s she comin’ back?” He dropped down on his knees before her.
Before Lily could answer, Matt plucked his little brother up and whisked him away. His own expression hard-set, he carried the child up to the watchtower.
Luke, fighting tears, ran after them.
Not having dealt with her own grief as yet, Lily would have liked nothing more than to collapse and weep until she had no tears left. But she knew if she gave in, she would never stop crying. Better to remain strong for the children. There’d be time enough for sorrow in days to come. She turned back to her meal, picking up the only thing that looked remotely appealing, a cup of tea. As she took a swallow of the hot liquid, she glanced around at the other women. Their expressions were not so much sympathetic as they were wrought with tension. They knew any of the other children could have been taken as easily as Mary and Emma. Any of their homes could have been burned to the ground and the residents massacred by the savages, as had happened at other settlements.
Every woman here had a loved one away, either at Fort Henry, manning a line of defense, or out tracking the kidnapping Indians. Not a wife among them could be certain her husband would come home alive.
But…they were men. Not two helpless little girls.
Lily caught herself before she sank into that pit of despair. Her fears would have to wait. There was something more immediate to tend to. She swept a glance up to the fifteen-year-old Randall lad. “Donald, I need you, Sammy, Jimmy, and Pete to come with me back to the house.”
All eyes turned to her.
“Why?” Jimmy Patterson’s youthful face contorted with puzzlement, then smoothed out again. “Sure ‘nough, Lily. Whatever needs doin’, we’ll help you with it.”
All the lads were having to take up their manhood too soon. When would this madness come to an end? She set down her empty cup and rose to her feet. “Shall we go?”
“We lay this dear young woman’s body to rest,” Grandma Margaret droned in a sympathetic tone, her back to the grave as she faced Lily and the other women and children clustered in a semicircle about her. Rays from the slanting sun filtered through the trees on the knoll, casting long shadows over the scene. “And we thank Thee, Lord, that our Susan is free of her pain and suffering and is now basking in the light of Thy glory. We ask Thee to comfort each of her children and fill them with the assurance that they are loved as much as ever.”
She paused and centered her attention on Lily, who stood with Davy tucked against her to keep him still as the older boys flanked her, all huddled together. Then she resumed speaking, this time with force. “And Father, we beseech Thee to bring our precious baby girls home safe and sound…our girls and our men.”
“Amen” resounded from every woman and child in the circle.
“Most gracious God,” Margaret continued, her tone gentle once more, “we look forward to the day when we will see Susan again in heaven, see her wonderful smile, hear her sweet laugh. We express our deepest thanks that our sister is now at peace in Thy loving arms. We praise and worship Thee for Thy goodness and care, and we beseech Thee most fervently to keep little Emma and Mary safe, in the name of our blessed Lord Jesus. Amen.”
As everyone looked up at the close of the prayer, Margaret turned to the grave. “We commit the body of Susan Gilford Waldon to the earth from whence it came, to await the glorious day when we will all be raised to meet our blessed Jesus in the sky. Ashes to ashes…dust to dust.” She reached for the shovel in the waiting pile of dirt and emptied its contents atop the wooden casket.
Lily’s heart thudded at the hollow sound of clods falling atop the few little wildflowers the children had picked and laid along the lid. She’d thought she’d be ready to face this moment, but the depth of emptiness that filled her stole her very breath.
The older woman handed the shovel to Matt.
He stared at it, then turned his swollen, red-rimmed eyes up to Lily.
She gave him a nod, barely holding back her own tears as he filled the shovel and emptied it in the grave, then handed the tool past her and Davy to Luke.
The nine-year-old wiped his sleeve across his eyes and followed suit, but as he attempted to hand the shovel on to the next person, Davy jerked free. “Me, too. Mama needs my dirt, too.”
Reluctantly, Lily nodded her assent, hoping the child understood enough to carry out the task with respect.
The tyke jammed his foot down on the iron edge of the shovel’s scoop, and with his hands halfway down the handle, he brought up the dirt and let it trickle into the grave. He looked up at the sky with a triumphant smile. “See, Mama? I help real good.” Then the little big man handed the shovel to Lily. “Your turn.”
Despite her sadness, Lily’s heart swelled with joy. Davy understood. He knew his mother wasn’t lying in that grave, but in heaven with God. She drew a steadying breath and added her own shovelful of earth.
Moments later, as the others took turns filling in the grave, Agnes MacBride moved alongside and wrapped an arm around her. “I’m sure John would’ve been here by now, if he could’ve.”
Lily barely managed a nod as her fury at the fort’s commander flared again. And though she knew it was irrational, her anger at John resurfaced. And at Mr. Gilford. Most of all, she condemned herself for sending Emma to the Patterson farm. She’d known Calvin was leaving to go fetch John home, that no man would be on the place to guard the family.
She glanced across the gathering to where Nancy Patterson had been standing with her toddler.
Nancy was gone.
Turning on her heel, Lily spotted her. Carrying little Sally, her neighbor had left the wooded knoll and started across the footbridge on her way back to the blockhouse. No doubt Nancy would climb up to the watchtower and continue searching the forest beyond—not for Indians, but for the return of the men…her Cal and John. She’d be watching even more intently for those who’d gone after their girls.
It would be dark soon. The little ones had already been out there one night. Please, dear God, bring our children home to us. Please.
“Lily.”
She pulled her gaze back to the knoll, to Matt. “Yes?”
“Me an’ the rest of the boys are gonna tend to the animals.”
Lily glanced toward the pasture, filled now with the extra livestock br
ought in from the other farms.
“You women need to take the young’uns back to the blockhouse while we’re gone.”
“Quite right.” She laid a palm alongside his smooth cheek, tipping her head as she let her eyes roam her young man’s face. “I hadn’t noticed. You’re almost as tall as I am now.”
Matt gave her hand a squeeze. “I know.” A half-smile tweaked his mouth. “Better go along.”
Lily turned away before he could see the tears she could no longer restrain. Matt. Matt, who’d been only seven when she first arrived to look after the children, was now looking after her.
Chapter 11
The late afternoon breeze feathered over the clearing, ruffling the edge of Lily’s muslin gown and toying with her hair. She caught a wisp that blew into her eyes and tucked it behind her ear as Davy’s chatter broke into her thoughts.
“When folks die, people bury ’em real deep.”
“Is that right?” She did her best to sound interested.
“Uh-huh. That’s so dogs and wolves can’t dig ’em up.” He looked down at the mound of earth Lily, Agnes, and Ruth were patting with the flat of their shovels to smooth out the grave. “I wish Mama wasn’t so deep, though. I miss her a lot.”
Agnes stopped to wipe perspiration dripping into her eyes. “When your pa gets home, he can make your mama a fine-lookin’ cross, what with all them nice tools he’s got an’ all.”
“Maybe he’ll let me help.” The little boy puffed out his chest. “I’m good at helpin’. Mr. Pat-a-son went to bring Pa home, didn’t he, Lily?” His huge blue eyes sparkled. “When’s he gonna get here?”
Agnes answered for her. “We’re not sure, little man. Soon, we hope.”
Just then a wild, piercing shriek came from the blockhouse beyond the trees. Lily froze. Indians?
Musket fire erupted from the upper floor.
Duke and the other families’ dogs took up a cacophony of growls and yapping.
Alarmed, Lily glanced about her. Half the people were scattered hither and yon. She and the two neighbor women—and Davy—were still here on the wooded knoll. The older boys were off tending livestock. Not one of her own was at the blockhouse!
Answering shots blasted from farther away, followed by a scream from the log structure.
Snatching Davy’s hand, Lily reached for the pistol she’d tucked in the crutch of a nearby maple tree.
Beside her, Ruth clutched the handle of her shovel in a white-knuckled grip, visibly shaking. “Oh, Lord, we’re gonna die!”
Agnes, musket now in hand, rushed to Ruthie and gave her a sound slap across her sallow face. “No time for hysterics, gal.” She then snagged the young woman’s hand and pulled her down behind a tree. “Stay put.”
Lily dragged Davy along as she ran to a break in the trees. She could see riders—not Indians, at least—coming down the trail on the other side of the creek, but she couldn’t make them out in the lengthening shadows.
When the horsemen emerged out of the woods and into the clearing, Lily released the breath she’d been holding. “It’s our men!” Racing off the knoll, dodging trees and brush, she headed for the creek. Please, Lord, let Emma be with them. Bring her back to us.
Matt, Luke, and the older boys reached the fallen log first and let out a gleeful hoot. “They’re back!”
Davy jerked free and sprinted for the footbridge ahead of Lily. His little legs working hard, he scrambled across with her on his heels. Lily desperately needed to see the riders clearly.
Ahead of her, the boys veered to the right as they reached the clearing. Lily followed. Panting for breath, she stopped, her eyes widening at the sight before her. Two little girls—Praise be to God!—Emma! Her little one rode double behind one of the men.
A cry tore from deep inside as Lily bolted straight for the approaching horse, her eyes filled with one small person. “Emma!”
Leaning out to peer around her rescuer, Emma reached out a hand to her. “Lily!” Then she burst into tears.
Reaching her, Lily pulled her darling off the still-moving horse. A tearful Emma collapsed into her waiting arms, then clung so hard, Lily could scarcely draw breath. She smothered the little girl with kisses. Emmy, her precious child, was home again.
Lily breathed a wordless prayer of thankfulness as she hugged the filthy little angel to her breast. Emma’s braids had come loose, and her pretty red hair was dull and matted. Scratches and bruises covered her arms and legs, her neck bore definite rope burns, and one little eye was black and swollen. Lily’s heart wrenched as her own eyes brimmed with tears. “Oh, my darling Emmy.” She drew her close again.
Matt, Luke, and Davy crowded around them, crooning sympathetically as they reached out, needing to touch their sister. “Glad to have you back, Sissy.” Then Davy’s voice rang out above the rest. “Pa!”
John? Lily followed the child’s gaze, and her heart skipped a beat. John was home! She’d been so absorbed in the joy of Emma’s return, she hadn’t noticed her rescuer! And at his weary smile, all the anger she’d harbored during his absence evaporated.
As John beheld the joyous, tearful reunion of his daughter and Lily, he easily identified with the lass’s emotion when she tugged Emma off the horse. He’d felt the same way the moment he’d had his daughter safe in his arms. Fully aware that Indians wouldn’t hesitate to murder little captives if they got wind of an impending attack, he, Calvin, and Robby had approached the camp with stealth. They waited long after dark, after the children had been cruelly bound to trees and the three young braves finally fell asleep, before they unsheathed their hunting knives and made their move.
The sleeping girls never heard the gruesome deed, but woke to two elated fathers who swiftly cut away their bonds and smothered them in hugs before whisking them away. Having Emma in his arms once more had been the most joyful, yet painful, moment of John’s life. He knew exactly how relieved Lily felt to have the child back.
When Lily looked up and saw him, her lips parted and she stared for a brief heartbeat. Then she gave a cry of joy and rushed with Emma right past the boys and into his waiting arms.
He enveloped them both, near tears himself, as the boys charged over and grabbed on. Davy jumped up and down. “Up! Up! I want up, too!”
Reaching down, John lifted the little tyke into the embrace, immediately finding himself in a stranglehold around his neck as his son peppered him with kisses.
“Hey, ever’body!” Davy hollered. “My papa’s back!”
His son’s words brought John up short. The captain had given him a mere five days, and he’d used a costly chunk of that to rescue Emma. How could he possibly desert them all again the day after tomorrow?
John trudged up the hill alone. The sultry gust of evening air rustled the leaves and carried the scent of fresh dirt—dirt covering his long-suffering wife’s final resting place. With heavy heart, he picked up a clod and crushed it in his hand, watching it dribble through his fingers, just as Susan’s life had. It was so senseless. A soft-spoken woman, she’d never had an unkind word for anyone. She shouldn’t have had to endure that debilitating ailment.
According to Cal, she’d been in a coma even before he left for the fort, so there was little hope John could have reached her before she drew her last breath. If only Busse had allowed him to come home weeks ago, when he’d begged for leave. His and Susan’s marriage had been a good one. They’d loved each other since they were the same age as Matt and Luke, and it crushed him to think how brief her time on earth had been. How would he live with the knowledge he hadn’t been with her at the end, holding her hand?
He should have pestered Captain Busse ceaselessly until the man let him go…. But the truth was a small part of him abhorred the idea of watching the love of his life take her final breath.
No. I left that to Lily and the children.
John sank to his knees. “I’m sorry, Susie-girl. So sorry I’m such a coward.”
“Papa!”
Davy’s cry
brought John to his feet. He swung around to see his little boy scampering up the rise.
“Son.” He shook his head in exasperation. “I told everybody I wanted a few minutes alone with your mother.”
“That’s why I had to come.” Davy huffed, out of breath. “I runned as fast as I could.”
The statement made no sense. John knelt before the boy. “Davy—”
“Mama ‘splained it to me. So’s I wouldn’t worry.”
“What are you talking about? What exactly did she tell you?”
“She said the body she was wearin’ wasn’t no good no more, that it hurt all the time. So she was goin’ up to heaven to get a new one. She said Jesus would give her a brand new one up there. Lots better than this one. An’ she said she’ll be right there waitin’ for us. Soon as my body don’t work no more, she’s gonna make sure I get the bestest new one they got in all of heaven.” He stretched his arms apart to add emphasis.
Even with his heavy heart, John felt the twitch of a smile. “Did Mama really tell you that? The last part, I mean.”
“Well”—Davy scrunched up his face—“not a’zackly. But that’s what she meant. I know it.” He studied his feet for a second, then looked up again. “Mama always told me she loves me better than anything. So you’ll see. She’ll get me the best one they got.”
John did smile then. He pulled his little scamp into a hug.
Davy eased back enough to look straight at him. “So anyway, you don’t need to be frettin’ about Lily’s red eyes or Matt’s or Luke’s. They was just cryin’ because they was scared them mean Injuns was hurtin’ our Emmy. An’ they was right about that, huh? She gots bad marks all over.” Easing out of John’s grasp, he raised a clenched fist. “If I ever see them bad Injuns, they’ll be sorry.”
Reaching out, John took hold of his son’s little fist and peeled back the fingers. “The Indians who took Emma are already sorry for what they did, Son.” He tousled the towhead’s hair. He knew he should say the righteous words: forgive them as we would want to be forgiven, leave the vengeance to the Lord. But even though they lay dead, he still hadn’t been able to forgive them himself. Maybe in time, once his little girl’s scratches and bruises healed…. He released a ragged breath.
Daughters of Harwood House Trilogy : Three Romances Tell the Saga of Sisters Sold into Indentured Service (9781630586140) Page 72
