He swallowed again around his tightening throat. “I can’t do that, son. I need to speak to her first, learn what’s in her heart. She’s a free woman now. She doesn’t need my blessing.” He took a healthy gulp of tea.
“She’s always spoke real highly of you. Your blessin’ would mean a lot.” Jackson leaned forward, a nearby lantern reflecting the youthful eagerness in his dark eyes. “An’ I want you to know I’d take real good care of her, buy her fancies an’ such. I’d never lay a hand to her. I don’t cotton to a man bullyin’ a woman. ‘Specially someone as sweet an’ purty as her. When I joined the militia, all I thought about was goin’ on a big adventure. But now all I want is to go home an’ make a good life for her an’ me.”
The lad continued to stare at him, and John knew he ought to say something. “Going home, living our lives in peace again…that’s what we all want.” He reached over and patted Jackson’s knee. “Eat up so we can get some sleep. We’re going home in the morning.” But sleep would likely be the last thing John would be able to do.
With so many people crowded into the house since Edith had barricaded herself in the carpentry shop, the only peace one could get was before dawn. Lily sat quietly sipping her tea in a dining chair pulled close to the hearth while a number of MacBride and Randall children slept at the opposite end of the room.
She felt blessed to have Maggie MacBride and Millie Dunlap beside her. They were two of her favorite friends in the cove. She leaned toward them to whisper. “I expected the men to return last night. I woke at every little sound.”
Millie’s lips curved with a reassuring smile. “Only if Bob was at the fort and not out ranging when Toby and Jackson got there.”
No one mentioned the always obvious possibility, if they made it.
Lily shifted her gaze back to the dancing flames. What if Bob was at the fort and John was not? The men wouldn’t—couldn’t—wait for him to return. John might not be with them. Her chest banded tight at the thought. She needed him here, now, more than ever.
“I pray the men come today,” Maggie said quietly. “I don’t think Edith will come out of that workshop till Bob gets here. I knew her takin’ care of eight young’uns and a farm all by herself was getting the best of her. And with the ever’day threat of Injun attack…”
Millie darted a glance behind her at the slumbering children. “She was startin’ to say some purty crazy things. An’ now this. It’s just too much for a body to take.”
Maggie nodded. “She’s gonna need a lot of extra love an’ care. An’ prayer.”
Lily agreed. “Mercy, but I do wish she’d come out.”
One of the sleeping children coughed, and Lily glanced over at the youngster before finishing her tea. “It’s starting to get light. I’ll go see if the hens have laid any eggs.” Stepping quietly to the door, she plucked her heavy cloak from a hook and walked out into an icy mist.
Duke and the other dogs on the porch stood up, their tails swishing back and forth.
Lily untied them so they could take care of their morning business. She wouldn’t be passing the carpentry shop, but still her gaze drifted to the shadowy building across the yard. The interior was dark, and no smoke issued from the iron stove inside. Edith must be freezing after locking herself inside with no more than a thin blanket around her shoulders. Lily sent yet another prayer aloft for her friend. She needs Your care now more than ever, Father. Please look after her. And Lord, where is that joy You promised? And where is John? Is he not coming?
The sight of the Randall children laughing and wrestling and slinging pillows with the other kids in the loft lifted everyone’s spirits. The youngsters needed a few carefree moments before the afternoon’s funeral service.
“Let’s get them young’uns fed.” Agnes MacBride set a platter of johnnycakes on the table to go with the new supply of sorghum molasses, then raised her voice. “A couple of you lads run an’ fetch the families from the blockhouse.”
“I’ll go.” Her eldest son, Michael, untangled himself from two little ones and came to his feet.
“I’ll go with you.” Matt went to get his musket racked high on the wall along with several other weapons.
“Don’t forget your coats.” Lily’s reminder came seconds too late. The door slammed behind them.
“Come an’ get it,” Maggie called out.
The words were scarcely out of her mouth before the children clambered down the ladder and ran to one of the long tables, pushing and shoving to crowd in.
Lily scooped up the toddler, Laurie, and placed the little one on the lap of one of the twins. A ruckus sounded outside.
The dogs charged off the porch in a mad scramble, all barking at once.
Lily shot a glance to Millie. “Could it be the men this early?” She and half the household rushed out to the porch.
But the dogs hadn’t gone in the direction of the lane. They were racing out back to the orchard instead! A high-pitched yelp came from one of them. Then another!
“Run!” Ian nudged the nearest children into motion. “Make for the blockhouse! Fast as ye can!”
The rest of the kids leaped from the porch, the older ones carrying the youngest. Lily and the other adults and lads charged back into the cabin for their weapons. Lily uncorked her powder horn in a frenzy and sprinkled some into the flashpan, then unhooked the ramrod and shoved the already-loaded paper cartridge wad more firmly into the barrel.
Noting that the others were already out the door, she regretted having taken that extra time. Without a second to waste, she flew off the porch and raced for the blockhouse as fast as her legs would take her.
Chilling screams and war cries pierced the air. Ominously close. The Indians must have already reached the stable! She didn’t dare chance a look back.
Coming to the bridge, she caught up to Eva, who hobbled awkwardly as she ran. Not slowing, Lily grabbed the elderly woman’s arm and dragged her along.
Within seconds they were past the creek undergrowth and onto the blockhouse clearing. Out in the open!
Deafening explosions came from both directions.
A bullet whizzed past Lily’s ear.
The Indians were close! Too close!
“Hurry!” someone yelled from the door. “Hurry!”
Gasping for breath, Lily pulled Eva inside the split-log door as two bullets slammed into it.
Ian shoved it closed, and Richard dropped the heavy bar into place.
Cal shook his head. “From the number of muskets bein’ fired, there must be fifteen or twenty of ’em out there. This is no small raidin’ party.” He headed for the ladder behind Richard. “Gotta get up top, make sure the boys don’t waste their powder.”
Glancing wildly around, Lily realized her two weren’t among the children present. They had to be up above, getting shot at!
Eva’s knees gave way. She started sinking out of Lily’s grasp.
Millie caught hold of the sagging woman’s other arm. “Are you all right, Mama?” She and Cissy took her from Lily and eased her down onto a sack slumped against a wall. “Talk to me,” Millie urged, stooping before her.
The old woman’s lined face was beet red. She shooed them away with a trembling hand. “Let me…catch…my breath.”
“Mama!” one of the Randall twins wailed. “We forgot Mama!” She flew to the door.
Her heart sinking, Lily remembered that Edith was still out in the carpentry shop.
“Somebody has to go get her.” The twin clawed at the heavy door.
Lily had to stop her. “You can’t go out there, dear. You’ll get shot.”
“But what about Mama?” Tears streamed down Gracie’s freckled face.
Taking hold of Gracie’s shoulders, Lily turned the girl to face her. “With all of us running for the blockhouse, I doubt the Indians even suspect she’s there.”
The girl stared openmouthed as Lily’s statement sunk in. She sniffed. “That’s right. They’re shootin’ at us.”
Lily no
dded and eased her hold. “I’m going up top to help out now.” She turned toward the ladder.
“Lily! You’re bleeding!” Gracie pointed at her.
“What?” She quickly scanned her body.
“The back of your arm.”
Propping her weapon against the wall, Lily tugged her sleeve around. It did have blood on it…and now that Gracie mentioned it, her arm started to hurt a bit. “Must’ve grazed me. Find a rag to wrap around it, would you?”
As the girl wrapped her arm, Lily saw that most of the young children were crowded at the back, whining and sniffing. Ruth had three little ones in her arms, nuzzling them and speaking in soft, comforting tones.
Lily arched her brows in wonder. Odd, now that the danger was actually upon them, with weapons firing from above and bullets splintering wood, Ruth’s hysterics had vanished and she was admirably calm.
Lily snatched up her musket and hurried up the ladder. Seeing Matt and Luke down on the floor with other boys their age, loading weapons for the men and older lads, she nearly bawled with relief. She hunkered below the line of fire and scurried to Cal, crouched with only his musket, his hair and eyes above the half wall. “Cal?” She tapped him on the shoulder.
He sunk below and turned to her.
She leaned close to his ear, so as not to worry his son Henry, who was loading for him. “Edith’s still in the carpentry shop.”
“I know.” Regret clouded his light brown eyes. “There’s nothin’ we can do about it.” For a grim second or two longer, his gaze remained on Lily. Then he turned back.
Lily glanced around, counting more shooters than loaders. She dropped down beside Cal’s son Sam as he rammed a shot and traded him her loaded musket for his. At fourteen, he was too young to be standing off a war party, but she knew the male in him would never allow her to swap places.
As she finished preparing Sam’s musket, bullets flew across the watchtower from all directions. The blockhouse was surrounded! And no one had gone for help!
Sam fired and exchanged his spent weapon for the one Lily had finished preparing.
His father turned to him. “Did you get one of ’em?”
“I don’t know for sure, Pa.”
“Don’t waste powder. Take sure shots.”
Lily wondered if they had enough gunpowder to hold off the Indians.
Shortly, the shots coming from the war party within cover of the woods slowed to one or two every twenty or thirty seconds. They, too, were being frugal.
Across the deck, Richard tipped his head at Lily. “Don’t appear as if they’re gonna rush us, at least.”
Cal gave a huff. “They’d be fools. They know they can bide their time. With no one knowin’ we’re bein attacked, they could hang around out there for days, till we run clean outta powder and food.”
Ian looked from one to the other and back. “In the last couple months, we’ve killed seven of ’em. They’re probably here for revenge.”
Donald Randall hiked his chin. “Well, my pa’s comin’. He’ll know what to do—iff’n he don’t ride into a trap.”
And John? Now Lily didn’t know whether or not to hope he was with the others. It was too much. All she wanted to do was cry, but she had to stay strong.
“Smoke!” Calvin raised up higher and pointed with his musket.
A shot whistled past him and he ducked.
Lily had to know. As she inched up cautiously and peeked over the edge, a bullet punched into the half-wall just below her. She hunkered back down. But she’d seen the evidence of destruction.
“It’s comin’ from the stable.” Twelve-year-old Pete Dunlap’s high-pitched voice rang out. “An’ the loft’s chock full of hay.”
Lily stiffened. Her milk cow, Daisy, was still in there! And those savages would burn the other buildings as well.
And Edith!
Chapter 33
A thick wall of smoke roiled up beyond the trees lining the creek, eliminating all doubt. The Indians had set the buildings ablaze. Lily hadn’t heard Edith screaming, but then with all the other noise and confusion…
Ian sat with Donald, holding the young man close as choking sobs wracked his body. For all he knew, his mother had either been hauled out by the Indians for some unspeakable manner of horrendous torture, or she was being burned alive inside, and he could do nothing to save her. None of them could.
Tears streamed down Matt’s and Luke’s faces as they witnessed their friend’s grief. Their muskets stretched idle across their laps. Everyone up here knew.
Lily no longer tried to contain her own tears. These people were her dearest friends in the world, and like everyone else, she felt devastated and helpless.
“Ian.” Cal tapped the old man’s shoulder and spoke quietly. “I’m startin’ to see smoke comin’ from your place.”
“Figures.” Ian had never looked so old as when he eyed Cal over the top of Donald’s drooping head.
“Mine’ll be next.” Richard gave a bitter laugh. “To think I made Ruthie stay here—for this.”
Just then, a flaming arrow buried itself into a roof post.
As Richard stretched up to dislodge the thing and toss it off, a bullet grazed his cheek. He swiped at the blood with the back of his hand then took hold of his musket again.
Donald rubbed his red eyes and jerked free of Ian’s grasp. Picking up his weapon, he slid the barrel across the railing. Mourning for his mother would have to wait.
John had expected to reach Beaver Cove earlier this morning. But a mile outside of Harris’s Fort Bob’s horse went lame, necessitating a return to the fort for a fresh mount. The weak sun would reach its zenith within the hour, but the day had yet to warm, and mist still dripped from the trees.
Anticipating a blazing hearth and a hot meal, he pulled off his tricorn and dumped the trapped water. The densely wooded trail had started to look familiar a few minutes back. He recognized the old lightning-struck oak and a small stream they’d crossed that fed into Beaver Creek. They’d reach Cal’s place soon.
“You guys smell that?” Toby straightened in his saddle. “Smoke.”
“We’re getting close to home.” Bob nudged his mount to a faster pace.
The Patterson clearing still lay some distance ahead when John’s nerves bristled. The acrid smell floating toward them was too strong to be from a fireplace. Sounds of crackling and snapping grew louder by the second. Breaking out into the open, the evidence hit them full force. Every structure had been afire for some time. Roofs had already collapsed, and the slower-burning log walls smoldered black. The sight made him want to retch.
Gawking in shock, the others pulled out their weapons. But as they rode cautiously in, they could tell the Indians were long gone. Savages never lingered to revel in their destruction, just torched things and left as quickly as they’d come.
Toby reined alongside John. “Thank God, Cal and his family are at your place.”
Bob spoke up, his tone raw with hatred. “There’s more smoke to the south. They must’a got my place, too.” He jammed his heels into his horse’s flanks. “Come on.”
With two miles separating the Patterson place from his own farmstead, John knew that even riding the animals hard, they wouldn’t get to the blockhouse for twenty minutes, maybe thirty.
All too soon, they saw smoke coming from across the creek at Toby Dunlap’s farm. John wondered why Richard and Cal let their property burn without running the savages off as they’d done before.
The group scarcely even slowed when they passed the smoldering, charred ruins of Bob Randall’s place. From the meadow, the clear sky revealed a dense cloud filling the horizon to the south. Breathing came harder, and even the horses had to be urged onward. Had the Indians burned out the entire cove? The blockhouse?
It took all of John’s better instincts not to charge full speed into the melee. He kneed his mount to the front and caught the reins of Bob’s horse, pulling them to a stop, then turned to the others. “This has to be a larger war
party. Let’s not just ride in there like a bunch of idiots without a plan of attack.”
A gunshot sounded from the south.
From the direction of the blockhouse.
Two more flaming arrows slammed into the roof.
Lily knew the men couldn’t reach them without getting shot. But if the roof burned, it would collapse and crash down into the interior. They’d all be burned alive. Like Edith.
“Water!” Cal shouted. “Get buckets of water up here quick!”
Ignoring her aching arm, Lily scrambled to the ladder even as flames licked greedily at the top, spreading fast. “Water! We need water. Now!”
Another shot echoed through the woods.
The gunfire gave John a boost of hope. If someone was shooting, the blockhouse must still be standing. “Men, let’s come up on the Indians from behind. Spread out. Make them think there are a lot more of us than there are. When we spot the devils, shoot your muskets, yell, and move before firing your pistols.”
Jackson snorted. “An’ chase the horses toward ’em to make more noise. Them savages’ll think they’re surrounded. They don’t like fightin’ if they don’t got the upper hand.”
Rage sharpened John’s fear as he edged into position. If Lily had taken the boys away when he’d asked, he wouldn’t be in such knots. He could wring her pretty neck for this.
Father God, You know I don’t mean that. Keep them safe. Keep them all safe.
A feather bobbed up above the brush, moving stealthily. John moved from behind a tree to get a clear shot.
Jackson, further down, fired his weapon and gave a wild shout.
The Indian John had spotted sprang up.
John fired and hit his mark, and the painted savage crashed into some brambles.
Toby, at the rear, yelled and whipped the horses forward.
John hollered and moved as the enemy shot in his direction. Spotting the musket flash, he ripped his pistol from his belt and fired, then gave a wild yell and rolled away. He needed fifteen seconds to reload his musket and another five for his pistol.
Daughters of Harwood House Trilogy : Three Romances Tell the Saga of Sisters Sold into Indentured Service (9781630586140) Page 89
