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

by Crawford, Dianna; Laity, Sally

  Moments later, their relief for sentinel duty climbed up the ladder.

  “You fellas heard anythin’ yet?” Bob asked.

  The first one to reach the platform answered. “Yep. Finally. Since nobody could understand that lad’s jibberish, it took awhile to find out he was with thirty-three Indians, Delaware and Shawnee. Somehow he got separated from them.”

  John gave a huff. “Sounds to me like they lost him. Deliberately. They probably didn’t relish taking orders from some green kid.”

  “Likely they won’t wanna head back out without plenty of scalps, neither,” Bob added.

  The second man rested an elbow on the watchtower’s rail. “One thing, at least. We here at the fort can relax. No thirty-three Indians would ever try to take this fortification.”

  John nodded and headed for the ladder. But he knew that breaking up into armed parties of five or six, those thirty-three savages could do a lot of damage, roaming the area. His urgency to return to his family intensified. Nineteen more days.

  The delicious aroma of baking bread permeated the air, and now that the nights had grown chilly, the glorious colors of autumn filled the countryside. Breathing deeply of the fresh, crisp air, Lily was glad to be outdoors, despite her icy hands. Wash day had become a huge undertaking, and she appreciated sixteen-year-old Cissy Dunlap’s help as the two of them pinned up the last load of wet laundry.

  A wisp of light brown hair wafted over Cissy’s shoulder as she peered from around a sheet flapping sluggishly in the breeze. “I really wish you’d marry up with Jackson. If you don’t, he’ll probably go looking for a wife somewheres else, like Frank did. He don’t hardly ever come home no more since he found his Hildy.”

  Lily rolled her eyes. At least once a day, someone provided her with a reason why she should choose either Robby or Jackson. “The Lord hasn’t nudged me in that direction as yet.” She loved giving that answer, since it usually put an end to the topic.

  “Well, just so’s you know,” Cissy persisted, jamming a pin over the draped sheet, “Jackson don’t show his best side when he’s out and about. When we’re home, he’s always good about bringin’ in water and fillin’ the woodbox without bein’ asked. He’s like that. If he sees something needs doin’, he up and does it.”

  “That’s an admirable trait.” Lily shook out a dish towel to hang and changed the subject. “How are you and Donald getting along?”

  Cissy’s face pinkened as she brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Oh, he can be so silly. Yesterday he gave me a bouquet. At least, that’s what he called it.”

  “A bouquet? Where would he find flowers this time of year?”

  “Aw, it was just some tree branches with pretty colored leaves. But he arranged ’em real nice. If we was at home, I could a put ’em in our blue china vase and set it on the table to look fine.”

  Lily averted her gaze into the distance. “I know how anxious everyone is to return to their own homes. ’Tis so crowded now that we all stay inside at night, with only the cabin, the carpenter’s shop, and the blockhouse for shelter.”

  “You know, if I was to home, Donald could come callin’ proper-like, like the fellas did for my older sisters before they married up.” Cissy pulled another piece from the basket on the ground and came up with a sigh. “That’s another thing that makes me sad. Esther and Betsy wed before we came out here, and I ain’t seen ’em since. They both got young’uns already, too. Just think, me, an auntie.” Turning to pin up the towel, she froze, and her eyes widened. She pointed with the wet article in her hand. “Look! Smoke!”

  Lily spun around. A huge black cloud climbed the northern sky.

  “Oh, no. Do you think it’s our place?” Cissy cried.

  “Call in the children. Quick!” Leaping over the basket, Lily ran to the house and bounded through the door. “Quick, everyone, grab what food you can and get to the blockhouse.”

  “What is it?” Edith came from the hearth, a large wooden spoon in her hand.

  “Smoke. To the north.”

  The women dodged past each other as Ruth bolted to the bedroom for her baby then ran outside screaming for her other children.

  “Stop!” Millie Dunlap hollered above the chaos, her hands on her hips. “Ever’body stop. The men are workin’ at our place today, boilin’ down sorghum. Remember?”

  “There’s far too much smoke,” Lily countered. “Dear Lord in heaven, my boys are with those men. Grab all the food and bedding you can.”

  She lifted down her musket and hastened outside. Quickly pouring powder into the flashpan of the weapon she always kept loaded, she fired a signal round. She prayed that the Randall twins and MacBride girls would hear it. They were supposed to stay close while out picking up wild walnuts. After reloading as fast as she could, she rammed the wad down the barrel, then dashed back inside, propped the rifle against the wall, and climbed up to the loft.

  Lily scooped up an armful of blankets littering the floor and threw them over the railing to the floor below. “Grab some and go to the blockhouse,” she yelled to anyone still about.

  Descending the ladder, she saw that the large cauldrons of food the women had been cooking for supper were already gone. She hurried to the corner by the hearth and slung a sack of cornmeal over her shoulder. Then, with a last glance around, she grabbed the musket and ran after the others, who were already disappearing beyond the springhouse.

  A sudden eerie feeling made the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. She cast a glance behind her. Seeing no one, she took off again, the heavy canvas bag bouncing against her spine with every step.

  She’d just crossed the creek bridge when she heard a distant gunshot. Then another. Two more. Desperate to know what was happening, she stopped, gasping for breath, as she strained to hear any others. Matt and Luke are out there! The thought was too much to bear.

  Why, oh why hadn’t she made the boys leave when she had the chance? John had been very explicit in his letter. If anything happened to them, she’d never forgive herself.

  And neither would John.

  “Hurry up, Lily.” Edith Randall called from the blockhouse. “We need to bar the door.”

  Chapter 30

  Is everyone here?” Lily glanced around the shadowy blockhouse as the door closed behind her.

  “Yes,” Agnes MacBride said. “Ever’body’s been counted.”

  Ruth started bawling along with her baby as she cowered in a corner, her whimpering children pulled close around her.

  Others huddled in family groups, murmuring concerns to one another.

  Lily’s heart went out to Nancy, who held her little Mary tight. The child shook uncontrollably, her eyes huge with fright. Mary especially shouldn’t have to be here.

  Fifteen-year-old Judy MacBride held up hands stained with walnut hull. “Mama, how will I ever get the stain off? Did you bring the lye soap?”

  Agnes ignored her whining daughter and went for the ladder in the center, hauling her ungainly weapon with her.

  Slipping the sack of meal off her shoulder, Lily followed her neighbor to the top deck. Millie and Cissy Dunlap were already there, staring intently at the smoke to the north.

  “It’s comin’ from two places now.” Never taking her eyes from the sight, Millie gestured with her head. “I can’t rightly be sure, but I don’t think it’s our place. The smoke seems to be comin’ from the farmsteads the Thorntons an’ the Bakers abandoned last year.”

  Lily joined them to stare at the two distinct and ominous black clouds billowing above the trees beyond the clearing.

  “That means ours’ll be next,” Cissy murmured just above a whisper.

  A mental image filled Lily’s mind, of everything her neighbors owned being reduced to ashes…including the blue china vase the girl had mentioned such a short time ago. And even my boys, if the men haven’t stopped those Indians. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep them from flooding. God in heaven, please bring back my dear boys soon….

  Edith
shoved her musket onto the deck and climbed up through the hole. “Any sign of our men yet? Robby and Donald’s with ’em. Not Bob, of course,” she grated bitterly. “Duty-bound to that blasted fort, an’ all.”

  “Donald….” Cissy swung around to Edith, tears pooling.

  Lily’s eyes also swam.

  “Ain’t no time for cryin,’” Edith scolded. “We gotta keep watch, make sure them heathens don’t sneak up on us.” She reached for Cissy and gave her a quick hug. “Our menfolk need a safe place to come back to.”

  “And pray.” Lily used her sleeve to wipe away the moisture in her eyes. “I’ll take the east side.”

  Millie suddenly turned around. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” Agnes stiffened.

  “Another shot.”

  Time seemed to stand still as the sun slowly inched toward the west. Gunshots no longer echoed through the thick woods. The night air turned cold. Lily had goose bumps up and down her arms, but she wouldn’t take a minute to go down and fetch a blanket as she willed the men—Matt and Luke in particular—to return. Visions of them scalped and sprawled on the ground in pools of blood, their sightless eyes staring at nothing, their mouths gaping in soundless cries, flashed through her mind. The single hope she could cling to was that the Dunlap place had not been set ablaze. Yet.

  Most of the women and children had gathered on the platform and now lined the railing, quietly watching. Rarely did anyone utter a word.

  Finally, as the sun disappeared behind the tallest trees, Edith slammed the butt of her musket against the deck in a resounding crack. “I’m through waitin’. I’m goin’ down to saddle me a horse.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Lily headed for the ladder. Anything was better than not knowing.

  “Wait!” One of the twins pointed toward the bridge. “Somebody’s comin’ across.”

  Friend or foe? Lily flew back to the creek-side edge, along with everyone else. She positioned her musket across the railing and took aim.

  Breaking past the foliage, someone waved his arms as he raced across the clearing.

  Luke! The boy was unharmed! But was he being chased?

  Seconds behind him came Pete Dunlap and Michael MacBride.

  Lily held her breath. Let Matt be next, Lord. Please!

  As John’s older son did indeed come into view, the sight of him brought such relief, Lily nearly dropped her weapon. He came more slowly, at a steady jog, his musket bouncing on his shoulder.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her knees buckled, and she sank down to the floor of the deck. Her boys were safe. Safe.

  While she struggled to regain her composure, the other women scrambled down the ladder. One resolution took shape in Lily’s mind. No matter how the boys felt about it, the three of them were going to take the MacBride canoe and leave this cove as soon as she could gather the needed supplies together.

  Inhaling a strengthening breath, Lily rose and moved across the deck to the spot above the blockhouse entrance, waving to Matt and Luke as they neared.

  People were already streaming out the heavy door. But where were the rest of the men? Surely those lads weren’t the only survivors!

  In the distance, Jackson and Donald emerged into view, carrying someone between them. Someone had been injured, but who was it? She couldn’t see past Jackson. She could see, however, that Jackson wore no shirt, and his chest was smeared with blood. Had he been hurt as well?

  Below, Edith screamed and ran toward her son.

  Across the clearing, Richard appeared next. Ruthie ran to him, sobbing loudly, her baby bobbing in her arms.

  Then, one by one, Toby and Ian came into sight, and finally Cal, limping awkwardly on his bad leg.

  Lily could finally make out the person being carried. Robby! Kind, gentle Robby. Across the lad’s middle, a wide leather belt held a wad of bloody cloth in place.

  She propped her musket against the half-wall and scurried down the ladder. Before she reached the lower floor, Matt and Luke were already inside, reaching for her.

  Sweat streaked Matt’s dirty face. “We prayed all the way back that you were safe. We were afraid other Injuns would attack here while we were off chasin’ the ones that burned those two empty farmsteads.”

  Lily tugged them both close and held them tight, weapons and all. “What happened to poor Robby?”

  “He got shot.” Matt’s expression was hard with rage, but his voice sounded cool and steady. “We’d been chasin’ them painted devils for near an hour when one of them leaped out from behind a tree and shot him. Jackson got that savage good, though. And we took care of two others back at the Thornton cabin whilst they was still torchin’ the place.”

  Lily couldn’t help noticing Luke remained silent, and he had more than just sweaty streaks down his face. He had tear tracks as well. “Are you all right, Luke?”

  He buried his face against her shoulder and nodded, his breath catching as he tried to be brave. The handle of her much-too-young warrior’s pistol gouged into her, but she didn’t care. She held on all the tighter. She was absolutely determined to take the boys away from here as soon as she could. What a fool she’d been to insist on staying in this perilous cove.

  Shadows filled the open doorway as Jackson and Donald carried Robby inside the blockhouse. His mother already had a blanket laid out. His teary-eyed twin sisters, Gracie and Patience, trailed behind, their troubled gazes fixed on their brother.

  “Fetch some water an’ clean rags,” Edith ordered, her eyes wild as she crouched beside her fallen son.

  Lily grabbed the bucket sitting atop a water barrel and partially filled it. She carried it to Edith and dropped down beside her.

  Robby, barely conscious, moaned with pain. With his bloodied fingers he reached for Lily’s hand. “Lily—” He started coughing and grimaced as a spasm made him gasp for breath.

  “Don’t talk, boy.” His mother unbuckled the belt holding the makeshift bandage. Lily recognized the item as Jackson’s shirt. “Gracie, where are them rags?”

  “Here, Mama.” She turned her head away as she handed them down to her mother.

  Robby squeezed Lily’s hand, drawing her back to him. Blood seeped from one corner of his mouth. “I…killed an Indian.” He gulped. “You think…God will…forgive me?”

  Lily leaned closer and brushed the hair from his pale brow as she did her best to smile. “Oh, Robby, I know He will. He loves you so—”

  Robby’s chest sagged as a final breath emerged. His eyes seemed to freeze in place, and his hand fell away.

  He’s dead. Lily swallowed hard.

  Jackson plopped down beside her and grabbed Robby’s shoulders. “Not now, man. You’re home. You’re safe.” He shook the lad. “Robby! Wake up! Wake up!”

  “Let him go.” Edith clawed away his fingers. “Let go of my boy.”

  As quickly as he’d knelt down, Jackson sprang to his feet again. “I’m real sorry. I just—” He pivoted on his heel and bolted out.

  Grace and Patience began crying audibly, and Donald, who had carried his injured brother in, draped an arm about each of his sisters and wept with them.

  As Lily quietly moved out of the way, she noticed Matt and Luke staring at Edith, who sat crooning to her dead son as she brushed damp curls from his forehead. “Let’s give the Randalls a moment of privacy.” She took their hands in hers and drew them away. The stark realization that John’s precious lads could as easily have been killed closed her throat till she could scarcely draw breath.

  They strode out into the late afternoon light, not bothering to talk. Lily realized the sun had moved very little since she last checked the sky.

  Her neighbors stood in clusters all about, the younger ones clinging to their parents, staring mutely into the blockhouse. Even the babies seemed to sense it was not a time to fuss.

  Lily offered a fleeting prayer, thanking the Lord that Emma and Davy weren’t there to witness this horrid occurrence.

  “I brung him out as fas
t as I could.” Still bare-chested and smeared with blood, Jackson fixed his gaze on her. “I know I always gave him a hard time about you, but I did ever’thing I could for him. You believe me, don’t you?”

  She nodded and attempted a smile. “Of course I believe you.” All anyone had to do was look at the anguish on his face to know he spoke the truth. She took a step toward him.

  His father, Toby, came to his side, looking equally distressed. “Son, you did more for Robby than any of the rest of us could. You carried him all that long way back to the wagon.”

  “I should’a got him there sooner. Mebbe if I had—”

  Toby took him by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Listen to me, Son. Nothin’ anybody could’a done was gonna save that boy. He was gut-shot an’ bleedin’ out. It was God’s mercy he didn’t suffer very long. Now, let’s go down to the crick an’ get you cleaned up a bit.”

  “Huh?” Jackson glanced down at his hands, then his body, as if he hadn’t noticed he was covered with Robby’s blood.

  Lily untied her apron. “Here. Take this with you. I’ll see about getting another shirt for Jackson.”

  She watched them stride toward the creek—the usually powerful Jackson stumbling along with his father, still staring at the blood on his hands. Obviously his guilt stemmed from the rivalry he and Robby shared, not his efforts on this most terrible of days.

  Jackson’s mother came up to Lily. “I’ll go fetch my son a shirt.” Then Millie wagged her head. “I’m startin’ to believe no piece of bottom land is worth all this sufferin’, no matter how rich it might be.”

  As Millie walked away, Lily’s gaze gravitated back to the Randalls inside the blockhouse, weeping quietly and consoling each other. She drew Matt and Luke close. “She’s right, boys. No land is worth a single hair on either of your heads.”

  Chapter 31

  No sense all of us crowdin’ together in that blockhouse.” Cal swept a glance over Lily and the others who stood waiting for the Randall family to come out. “We run them red devils off good an’ proper. They won’t tangle with us again anytime soon.” His light brown eyes grew soft as they gravitated to his little, golden-haired Mary. “Let’s take the young’uns back to the cabin so’s they can warm up.”