by Ana Seymour
Randolph nodded. He didn’t speak further, but continued studying her.
“Was there anything else, sir?” she asked.
“No. Ah…thank you, Hannah.”
She got up and started to leave, but Mr. Webster’s voice stopped her at the door.
“Hannah, there is one more thing. Would you please prepare the back room?”
She turned back to him. “The back room, sir?”
“Yes. Captain Reed will be joining us tonight. He has accepted my offer to stay here until we’re ready to leave.”
Much to her annoyance, Hannah realized that her heart had given a thump inside her chest at the mention of the man’s name. “Very good, sir,” she said a little sharply.
Randolph looked up at her curiously. “Reed seemed taken with you last night at the inn.”
“He said it had been a spell since he’d been around women, and judging from his manners, I believe he was telling the truth.”
Randolph smiled. “It’s hard to fault a man for noticing a pretty girl, Hannah.”
Hannah’s cheeks grew hot. It was the first time that Randolph Webster had made the slightest comment on her person. His eyes had an odd expression, too, as he watched her from behind his big desk. She dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’d best see to getting his room ready, Mr. Webster.” Then she gave a bob of her head and escaped down the hall.
Chapter Two
Ethan Reed had spent the entire past year with a government survey party mapping the unknown territory along the Monongahela River north of the Ohio. The winter before that, he’d spent at Fort Pitt, the rough frontier stronghold that the English had built to replace the burned-out French Fort Duquesne. As he had told Webster’s servant yesterday, it had been a long spell since he’d been around a lot of women. It had been an even longer one since he’d seen any as pretty as Mistress Hannah Forrester.
He stood framed by the open doorway of Webster’s house and watched her as she bent dipping candles in a pan of tallow. She was too intent on her work to notice his arrival, and he took advantage of the moment to let his eyes roam over her long, slender body. Too slender, perhaps, for the rigors of the West. But with a willowy grace that put a hollow in his midsection. She wore no cap, and her bright blond hair hung in a thick braid down to the middle of her back.
She turned to hang a dripping row of candles on the drying rack, then stopped as she spied him. Her body stiffened. She was a skittish one, that was for sure. Like the fawn he’d tried to tame last fall when one of the members of the survey party had killed its mother. Ethan had patiently attempted to convince the little animal to trust him, but it had looked at him with big fearful eyes and jumped every time Ethan came near.
Mistress Forrester’s eyes were not fearful, but they were full of mistrust. He wondered if she’d been telling the truth about Webster’s lack of interest. The man must be daft…or blind. Of course, as she had said, Webster was still grieving for his wife. Ethan shook his head. If he had a woman like this living under the same roof, he’d do a lot more than notice.
“You startled me, Captain,” she said, putting the candles in their place.
“I beg your pardon, mistress. I should have announced myself. But you were standing there in that shaft of light, and I was trying to decide if that was your real hair or a halo of sunbeams wreathing your pretty face.”
Hannah wiped a wisp of hair from her forehead. “Captain Reed, it’s not seemly for you to address such remarks to me. I’m Mr. Webster’s servant.”
Ethan stepped inside the door and removed his felt tricorne. “I believe you’re going to find that west of the Ohio those kind of labels don’t make much difference anymore. Everyone’s as good as a servant out there. Those who don’t work hard won’t make it.”
Hannah’s eyes widened as he approached. He was clean shaven now and dressed in a well-tailored suit, tapered at the waist in the current style. He still looked big. His shoulders filled out the jacket in a way that she’d never noticed with Mr. Webster or his friends. With his whiskers gone and clean clothes, Captain Reed suddenly looked as if he could be one of the fine gents who had sauntered into Piccadilly back home in search of a good time and easy women. Her mum had always scurried away when one approached, dragging Hannah behind her. “They’ll not be after you with their fancy words, luv,” she’d say with that distressing look of desperation in her eyes.
“Perhaps you’re not aware that I’m indentured to Mr. Webster,” she told the captain. “I’m his servant not by choice, but by contract.”
His potent dark eyes watched her. “Contracts don’t mean a hell of a lot out West, either.”
“Nevertheless,” she said with quiet dignity, “I intend to honor my commitment to the Websters—Mr. Webster and the children.”
“It’ll not be a picnic.” He finally broke off his gaze and began looking around the large kitchen. “You’ll not be able to take much of this with you.”
Relieved to turn to a less personal topic of conver-sation, Hannah said, “The MacDougalls will be selling most of these things after we’re gone. Mr. Webster has spent the past few weeks packing up the essentials. We’re taking very little.”
“I saw his bundles out in the carriage house and told him to reduce the amount by two-thirds.”
“But surely…”
Ethan gestured impatiently. “As I told Webster, we’ll be traveling over little more than a mule track as far as Fort Pitt. From there we’ll move onto the flatboats, which will be a sight easier on everyone. You might be able to pick up some extra supplies at the fort.”
“We were hoping to take Priscilla’s vanity for Peggy,” Hannah said with a frown.
Ethan shook his head. “Tell her grandparents to save it for her. Someday the roads west will be broad enough to move a whole house, but not yet.”
Hannah nodded. She felt sorry for the little girl, who had lost her mother and must now leave almost every trace of her behind. But Hannah herself had gone through worse sacrifices during her childhood. Her mother had always said what didn’t kill you, made you strong.
“I’ll talk to the MacDougalls. They’ve plenty of room to save some of Mrs. Webster’s things for a future date.”
Ethan gave a smile of approval. “I like your attitude, Mistress Forrester. Most women put up a fuss about leaving their precious belongings behind.”
“I only asked for Peggy’s sake, Captain Reed. For myself, I’ve nothing precious to take or to leave.”
She spoke the words matter-of-factly, Ethan noted, without a trace of self-pity or bitterness. Webster’s servant was not only beautiful. There was an underlying strength to her character that would serve her well on the frontier.
Hannah’s back hurt again. She’d spent all day trying to prepare enough candles to last for the unknown number of weeks before she would be able to make more, and the bending and dipping had her muscles aching. Her unpredictable back was one of the curses of being tall and slender, her mother used to say. Of course, her mother had measured little more than a yeoman’s yard, which meant that Hannah’s height had to have come from the deserting black-guard who had fathered her. Her mother would see naught but ill in the trait.
“You’ve put in a long day, Hannah.” Mr. Webster stepped in the front door and clapped his hat on the wall peg.
Hannah smiled at him. Since their conver-sation in his office this morning, Mr. Webster’s remarks to her seemed to be subtly different. The day had gone much as most days, a busy combination of household chores and children, but more than once she had caught his eyes on her, and he had complimented her warmly on the supper, which had been nothing but an unpretentious beef stew. Of course, the presence of Captain Reed had made the meal more festive than usual. He’d regaled them with stories of the West until both Peggy and Jacob had jumped around in a circle and declared that they wanted to leave that very minute.
“I thought you would be staying up at the tavern with Captain Reed and the others,” she answere
d.
“The noise was giving me the headache. I decided I’d rather come home and tuck the bairns in their beds.”
Hannah’s smile dimmed at his use of Priscilla’s word for her children. It wasn’t a fair world that took a mother away from her little ones. “I’m afraid Jacob’s asleep already, but Peggy may be awake. She was working on her sampler.”
“I’ll just go upstairs and see. And then…” He glanced at the hand Hannah still held at her aching waist. “Are you too tired for a bit more work to-night?”
Hannah removed her hand and tried to straighten the crimp out of her back without being obvious. “Of course not. What would you like me to do?”
“Help me. We need to go through the household items I had planned to take and decide which ones can be left. Captain Reed claims that we’ll not be able to take such a load.”
“Aye. He told me the same thing.”
Webster looked annoyed. “When did he tell you that?”
“This afternoon. He surprised me in the kitchen as I was making the candles.”
“There’s no call for Reed to be telling you what to do, Hannah. He’s our trail guide, nothing more. If you wish, I’ll ask him not to speak to you unless necessary.”
“Oh, please no. He’s not a bother to me, Mr. Webster.”
“If he should become one, Hannah, kindly let me know. Mayhaps I shouldn’t say this to you, but I believe Captain Reed has something of a reputation with the ladies.”
“The ladies? To hear him talk, he’s spent the past two years with bears, wild Indians and even wilder soldiers.”
“Perhaps that’s all the more reason I should tell him to stay clear of you,” Randolph said grimly. “All I know is that they say he was raised in Boston of a good family and he left under somewhat cloudy circumstances that concerned a woman.”
Hannah sighed and stretched her back one more time. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Webster, but I don’t believe I need protection from Captain Reed.”
“Yes, well…” Mr. Webster looked at her with the odd expression that seemed to have developed since the incident in the tavern last night. “It’s my responsibility to take care of you, Hannah. If anyone tries to bother you, you must tell me about it forthwith.”
Hannah was bewildered by the proprietary tone. For almost three years she’d lived in the same house with this man, feeling of no more importance to him than a sack of turnips. Now all at once he seemed concerned about her. Mistress MacDougall’s comments came back to her, but she dismissed them impatiently. “I was raised on the streets of London, Mr. Webster, not at a convent. I can take care of myself.”
Webster nodded. “I believe you. God knows, you’ve taken care of all of us well enough these past months.”
“Yes, well…” Hannah felt her cheeks grow warm. “I’ll just go on out to the stable and start looking at the packs.”
“You’re sure you aren’t too tired?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You’re a hard worker, Hannah. But I intend to take a little bit better care of you in the future.”
She didn’t know what to reply, so she nodded and turned toward the door. But she felt Randolph Webster’s eyes follow her all the way out to the yard.
Hannah always felt a stitch in her heart when she walked by the big stone kiln at the corner of the Baker brickyard. It had been at that site over a year ago that carefree, young Johnny Baker had lost his life when an unbalanced load of bricks had fallen on him, crushing his throat. Johnny Baker had bantered with Hannah when she had first arrived in Philadelphia, and Priscilla had teased her that the handsome young man was sweet on her. But Hannah knew that Johnny flirted with every young maid in the area. He wasn’t likely to set his heart on an indentured servant with five long years to serve. Still, his death had shocked and saddened her. Johnny’s mother, Eliza, had been nearly crazy with grief, and Hannah had taken to spending some of her free moments with her. Johnny had been Eliza and Seth Baker’s only child, and in many ways it seemed as if their very future had died along with him.
Hannah walked up the neat brick path to the Baker cottage. Eliza’s beloved crocuses were making their first brave appearance, in spite of the continuing cold weather. The cheery splotches of yellow brought the natural smile back to Hannah’s lips. The Bakers would miss their home, she thought. When a recent German immigrant had made an offer to buy the brickyard, it had seemed to be the opportunity to flee from their grief. Some of Seth’s natural enthusiasm had returned as he joined in the plans to head west with the Websters, the Trasks and the Crawfords. But Hannah knew that Eliza would miss her crocuses in the spring, and she’d especially miss her daily climb up to the small cemetery behind the church.
“Hannah, my dear. What are you about so early?” Eliza’s kindly, weathered face poked out the front window.
Hannah smiled at her. “I’m just bringing around a message from Mr. Webster.”
The head disappeared and the cottage’s bright green door opened. “Come inside, girl. The morning’s still got a chill on it.”
Hannah ducked under the portal to enter the Bakers’ immaculate kitchen. It smelled of herbs and fresh bread. “Take off your bonnet and have some warm cider,” Eliza urged, bustling around to fill a mug with steaming liquid from the black kettle and slide a pan from the warming oven. “And you’ll take some bread, as well. It’s just baked.”
Hannah laughed and shook her head, but took a seat on one of the stools. “I can’t stay, Eliza. I have yet to visit the Crawfords and the Trasks.”
“You’ll stay long enough to put some warmth in your middle,” Eliza said firmly, handing Hannah the mug.
“Mr. Baker isn’t at home?” Hannah asked.
“He’s out in the yard with Herr Gutmueller.” Eliza’s expression dimmed. “I hope we’re doing the right thing. It’s tearing Seth apart to leave the business to a stranger. Yet, how could he stay on when every day he has to face that horrible spot where Johnny…”
Hannah gave a nod of understanding. “You’ve been over it a hundred times, Eliza. You yourself have said that Seth is feeling better now that he’s making plans for a new life. It’s probably for the best.”
Eliza sat across from Hannah, her full skirts puffing up around her. “I know, I know. I’ll not bother you again with my worries.”
Hannah reached out to take the older woman’s plump hand. “You never bother me, Eliza. I just wish I could do something to make the leaving easier on you and Mr. Baker. After all the help you gave me when Mrs. Webster died. I’d never have managed all those relatives and neighbors without your assistance.”
The two women shared a smile of friendship. “It was a heavy burden for a young thing like you, Hannah. Still is…the children to manage, and Randolph moping in his beer every night.”
“Mr. Webster’s doing better, too, I think, keeping busy with all the plans and preparations.”
Eliza withdrew her hand from Hannah’s and reached over to slice off a golden crust of bread. “Well, you see, that’s men for you. Give them an adventure and they’re willing to forget everything else. We womenfolk are left to grieve by ourselves.” Her eyes went to the back wall of the house, as if she could see beyond it to the brickyard where her husband was in the process of disposing of his life’s work.
“Perhaps their way is better,” Hannah said gently. She, herself, had found that learning a new land had helped her deal with the crushing loss of her mother. And she found herself looking forward to the west-ward adventure as much as the men did.
Eliza’s eyes had misted over. “Perhaps. I’ll do my best to make this work for Seth.”
“From what Captain Reed says, we’ll all have to do our best.”
The tone of Hannah’s voice had changed subtly and Eliza looked up sharply. “Captain Reed’s a spell-binder, isn’t he?”
“The children certainly seem fascinated by his stories.” Hannah looked away from her friend.
Eliza cocked her head. “Indeed,�
�� she said dryly.
Hannah picked up the piece of bread Eliza had pushed toward her and jammed it into her mouth. “I have to be on my way,” she said between chews. “I just came to tell you that we’ll all be meeting tomorrow evening at the MacDougalls’ for a farewell party.”
“Good. We’ll bring Herr and Frau Gutmueller.”
Hannah jumped up from her seat and reached out to give Eliza a quick hug. “We’re all going to be just fine, Eliza. You’ll see.”
* * *
Hannah waved to Mr. Baker as she hurried along the east edge of the brickyard to the Crawfords’ tiny house. It was in need of paint and the front stoop had been broken since Hannah had first arrived in town. The boards slanted to one side at an odd angle that forced Hannah to hitch up her skirts and look down to keep from falling. She had wondered about the ability of Amos Crawford to keep up with the hard work of a wilderness farm, but at least he would be another man to serve as protection. There was safety and comfort in numbers, she supposed. Besides, young Benjamin Crawford was Jacob Webster’s best friend, and the two boys had been playing at being frontiersmen for weeks.
It was Benjamin who answered her knock, but as he started to open the door he was pushed out of the way by his seven-year-old brother Thomas. “I said I would get the door, Benjie,” he shouted, giving his older brother a push that sent him sprawling into the cluttered room.
Benjamin leapt up and dove for Thomas’s knees, which put both boys on the floor, pummeling each other.
“Mama, Tom and Benjie’s fightin’ again,” cried little Patience Crawford, while her twin sister, Hope, jumped up and down in excitement.
Martha Crawford appeared in the doorway to the back room. She was a slender woman who had been one of the town beauties a few years back, but who now looked drawn and weary. She clapped her hands together and yelled, “Stop this!”
The words had no effect whatsoever on the commotion, but the woman didn’t appear to care. She made her way around the tumbling boys and gave Hannah a tired smile. “Good morrow, Mistress Forrester.”