Davy broke free of his siblings. “Mama! Look who’s here!” His words vibrated loud as he ran to her bed and flung himself against it.
She winced as if the sudden jolt caused pain, but her smile never wavered. “Yes. I see.” She reached out a frail hand to the child. “Your papa is home…. My Johnny.”
Her use of his childhood name reminded him that he’d loved her since he was ten years old and the two of them were studying catechism at their local Anglican church. He gently pried himself free of the children and moved toward her. “Kids, would you mind leaving your mama and me alone for a few minutes?”
Davy’s lips protruded in a pout. “But you just—”
Emma grabbed her little brother’s arm and pulled him to the door. “Mama needs a hug from Papa, too. Without us crowding in.”
John gazed after his seven-year-old daughter. The only one of the children who had a fair complexion and hair the same glorious shade of red as Susan’s sounded so grown-up.
As the boys elbowed and shoved their way out of the room, Emma lagged behind long enough to bestow a treasured smile as she closed the door behind them, a long copper braid falling forward with her movement. She’d been as young as Davy when John had first signed on with the militia, and she was growing up so quickly. The children were all changing so between his leaves from the fort. He released a ragged breath.
“It’s so good to have you home,” Susan whispered.
“Oh, yes.” He gazed lovingly at her. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.” Easing down beside her, he carefully drew her into his arms, but instead of the comforting softness of her womanly curves, he felt the fragility of her frame in his embrace. The unthinkable could no longer be denied. Barring an outright miracle from God, if something wasn’t done soon, she would die. “Oh, Susie-girl, my brave sweetheart,” he murmured against hair once shiny and silky, now limp and dull. To think she’d given up the comforts of a privileged life to elope with him when he was not yet twenty. If only he could provide some of those childhood comforts for her now.
And he would!
“You’ve been gone too long.” Her breathy whisper held little strength.
He drew her closer and kissed her temple. “I’m glad I’m here now, to hold you.” One way or the other, he’d convince her to go to her family in Philadelphia. She must know it was vital for her to go. A physician there might know more about her life-draining malady than the doctors who’d examined her before they left Baltimore. This time he’d compel her to go—escort her himself, if he had to. If he was late returning to duty at Fort Henry, Captain Busse would understand.
Easing his hold on her, John looked into her eyes. “Sweetheart, we’ve—”
The door banged open. Pint-sized Davy burst into the room and stopped short of the bed, a frown scrunching his freckled nose. “Ain’t you through huggin’ yet?”
John couldn’t help laughing as he gently settled Susan back against her pillows. He reached for the boy. “Come here, my boy. It’ll be a long time before I’m through hugging any of you.”
Lily dried her hands at the washstand by the cabin door. It would look suspicious if she stayed out in the stable any longer. Besides, John would most likely be hungry. She plastered on a welcoming smile and strode inside.
The family sat clustered around the finely crafted dining table that John, a journeyman furniture maker, had made the first year Lily came to live with them in Beaver Cove. Before the war. Davy perched on his father’s lap, his wiggly hands ever in motion, and Susan sat wrapped and pillowed in the rocking chair at the warm end near the hearth.
John and Susan both wore happy smiles as they looked Lily’s way.
“Come in. Come sit with us.” John patted the vacant chair at the table.
“How about I get you something to eat and drink first? You must be hungry.” She forced a brightness into her demeanor as she moved past the table to the fireplace. “We’ve beans and carrots left over from nooning.”
He spoke around Davy’s head. “Sounds mighty good. I haven’t eaten since we left Harris’s Ferry this morning.”
“We?” Across from his father, Matt leaned forward. “Did the other fellas from Beaver Cove come home, too?”
“That they did. All five of us. We floated down the Susquehanna from Henry’s Fort yesterday, then this morning we borrowed a canoe and paddled up the Swatara as far as Beaver Creek. Our stream was running too fast, so we walked in from there.”
Davy swiveled toward him. “Did ya see any Injuns out there?”
More than interested in the answer, Lily straightened from stirring the coals under the suspended bean pot and turned.
John’s jovial expression had vanished. “No, Son. Has there been sign of them in the cove?”
“Uh-huh. Last Sunday.” Luke’s eyes twinkled. “Micky MacBride said Pete Dunlap saw moccasin tracks in the woods behind the Bakers’ old place.”
“You don’t say.” John’s worried brow matched Lily’s alarm.
Matt jabbed his brother in the ribs. “Don’t listen to him, Pa. Pete likes to stir things up, is all. He prob’ly was nowhere near that far upstream.”
Somewhat relieved, Lily poked life into the glowing embers beneath the water kettle. “I’m sure Matt’s right. Even so, we tie Duke to the porch post at night so he can’t go chasing off after some raccoon.”
Luke nodded. “That way Duke can warn us before any Injuns can sneak up an’ shoot arrows at him. They do that, ya know, to keep dogs from warnin’ folks.”
Susan’s plaintive voice cut in. “Boys. Please.” She drew a labored breath. “Enough unpleasantness. Let’s be happy your father is home—and the rest of our fine militiamen.”
Poor, helpless Susan. It must be hard to be brave when one is in too much pain even to walk. Lily had watched the young woman getting weaker with each passing month, while she herself seemed powerless to do anything about it.
John leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek. “Since there hasn’t been any trace of the French or Indians around the fort, Captain Busse released half the militia to come home and get our crops in. He gave us two weeks. When we return, he’ll let the others go.”
“Only two weeks?” Susan asked the question Lily wanted to ask. “When will this horror ever end?”
As Lily poured steaming water into the teapot, John moved closer to Susan and wrapped an arm around her. “I can’t say, my love. But rather than take this time to plant, I plan to see you and the children on your way to Philadelphia. You’ll all be much safer with your family, and you’ll finally be under the care of a much more learned doctor.”
“But we’d never see you then.” Susan’s voice became stronger than Lily had heard in weeks. “It’s quite safe here. Truly. Folks are only a gunshot away.” She swung her gaze to Lily. “Tell John how we celebrate Sundays now.”
“Of course.” Lily smiled and set the teapot on the table. “But first, Emma, would you please get your papa a cup and fork while I dish up his food?” Considering the fragile rein she had on her emotions, the last thing Lily wanted to do was look at John while she spoke. “The other families along the creek road have been coming here for church services for a while now. No one wants to travel more than a mile or so, since spring is so rainy.”
“Roads get slick as snot after a good rain,” Luke piped in.
“Slick as snot,” Davy echoed, flashing a baby-toothed grin up to his father.
“Davy.” Frowning, Emma beat Lily to the reprimand. “You know you’re not supposed to say that. And neither are you.” Hands on her hips, she glared at Luke.
Lily saw John rub a hand across his mouth, but his laughing eyes couldn’t hide his mirth. She continued explaining the Sabbath happenings. “We push the furniture back and set up benches. Grandfather MacBride reads from the Bible—”
“An’ we sing lots an’ lots of songs.” Davy gave an emphatic nod. “Then we all eat till our bellies pooch out, an’ I get to go out an’ wrestle with Charlie an
’ Joseph.”
After Lily set a plate heaped with beans, carrots, and bread, John picked up a fork and wolfed down a couple of bites. “That does sound like fun, and real nice for you, Susie-love.” He bestowed another adoring look on his wife. “But I still want you to go to Philadelphia. There has to be a doctor there who can help you.”
She shook her head. “Please, darling, don’t waste this wonderful homecoming on that subject. We’re all here together. Let’s enjoy the moment.”
“I agree. You need to eat.” Lily poured John a cup of tea and met his gaze. “You’re much too thin, and I’ve only two weeks to put some weight back on you.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and her face flamed with embarrassment. She knew she should have said we have, not I have. She really must be more careful.
Chapter 2
We hoped you’d come home a few times during the winter months, John. The endless days from Christmas until now have seemed like forever.”
John swallowed his mouthful of hearty spiced beans and smiled at Susan. “I know, my love. It felt like that for me also, but Captain Busse believed the French were planning a surprise attack. Turned out he’d been given false information by our Shamokin Village Indian allies. There’s always more rumors and waiting than action.”
“Thank the Lord for that,” Lily remarked from the hearth.
John glanced up at her, surprised when she immediately averted her gaze. Odd. “It does get tiresome languishing at the fort. But you’re right. We’re most grateful to the Lord.”
“Amen.” Little Emma’s affirmation was rife with feeling.
“Yes. Amen.” John grinned. It felt wonderful to be home. Only why was Lily acting so shy? Perhaps she was hesitant to remind him that her indenturement would come to an end in two months. The quiet English girl had fit in so well here and been such an invaluable help to them all, he couldn’t imagine what the family would do without her.
While the children chatted on about the happenings at the cove since Christmas, John tried to concentrate on his delicious, home-cooked meal. But with the troubling sound of Susan’s raspy breathing beside him, he could not deny that with Lily’s imminent departure approaching, it was more vital than ever to convince his wife to go to her family in Philadelphia.
His gaze meandered once again to Lily as she stirred the coals and added another log to the dwindling fire. Nothing remained of the frightened, wide-eyed waif of a bond servant who’d trembled uncertainly on the auction block in Baltimore years ago. That wisp of a girl had blossomed into an engaging young woman, her wheat-gold hair a shining halo braided about her head. The Lord had given this family a priceless gift in her. In truth, John had a few misgivings about Lily in the beginning. But she’d turned out to be quite the capable young woman…nursemaid to his wife, almost-mother to his children, excellent housekeeper, and willing farmhand. Hard to believe that in a mere two months the law would require him to give the winsome, golden-haired angel two pounds cash money and supplies enough to see her safely back to her sisters.
She turned her face up to his then, and for an instant he was lost in the luminous depths of her gray eyes as a flush of pink swept her delicate cheekbones.
John gathered his errant thoughts and swallowed. Two pounds. How could he spare that sum? Since being called to militia duty, he’d been unable to practice his furniture-making trade, and with his long absences, the farm barely produced enough to keep the family and livestock fed. Philadelphia was the only answer.
“Papa, you’re not listening.” Emma tugged his linsey-woolsey sleeve. “I said—”
“Forgive me, honey. I was enjoying being here so much my ears couldn’t keep up.” He reached past Davy and gave her a hug.
She shrunk away a bit, and her nose scrunched up. “You need a bath, Papa. Bad.”
He could only chuckle.
“Emma!” Lily gasped. “I daresay that was hardly polite. But I’d imagine your father would appreciate a nice warm soak. I’ll start heating extra water.” She snatched up the water bucket and emptied it into the kettle. “Matt, would you and Luke mind taking the bucket and milk pail out to the well and filling them with water?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Both boys scooted back their chairs and hastened to do her bidding.
“Lily’s been such a blessing,” Susan said in her thready voice. “I don’t know what we’d do without her.”
John released a pent-up breath and studiously avoided glancing at the lass again. How would he tell his wife their lovely helper would be gone in two months? His family simply had to leave this place—even if Susan still dreaded facing her domineering father after all these years.
Up in the loft, John tucked Davy in for the night. “Time for your prayers, boys.”
The little scamp looked completely innocent as he gazed up, his blue eyes shining. “We won’t have to ask Jesus to keep you safe tonight, ’cause you’re here with us.”
“That’s right. Not tonight.” John bent and kissed the child’s forehead.
As his sons murmured their private pleas to the Lord, John recalled how close he’d come to losing his life the previous November when he’d been shot through his calf muscle—an injury his family knew nothing about, but one that still ached whenever it rained. He thought back on the morning when he and several of his buddies were chasing after a raiding party up the Tulpehocken Path. They hadn’t seen any sign of the group since.
Although the French and their allied Indians were gone for now, John knew they’d be back, and soon. What was to stop them, as long as James Ambercrombie was commanding the English forces? Upon the newly arrived general’s first and only encounter with the enemy, the pathetic excuse for a leader had set a new standard for incompetence by causing the senseless slaughter of many of his own soldiers.
John thanked God that he was stationed at Fort Henry with Captain Busse instead of with the army at Lake Champlain. Had King George dispatched an even halfway capable commander, the French would’ve been pushed back across the Great Lakes long ago and taken their Indian allies with them.
Now the French would be even more emboldened.
And Beaver Cove was in more danger of attack than ever before.
At the hearth, Lily stirred the huge footed pot containing the cubed potatoes and smoked ham she was preparing for tomorrow’s Sabbath meal. Then, unhooking a potholder, she plucked the pressing iron from the hot metal plate sitting among more fiery coals and brought it to the worktable to iron John’s finely woven white shirt for the morning church meeting. She wanted him to look his best. Smoothing a hand over the material, Lily lost herself in the memory of the smile he’d given her earlier this evening when thanking her for preparing his bath, and her heart ached with longing.
“Why are you cooking and ironing at this late hour?”
Something inside her went completely still as John descended the loft ladder. She did her best to sound casual as she spoke in low tones. “I’m cooking for tomorrow, the Sabbath.” The realization struck her then that with the rest of the household now abed, the two of them were in the common room…alone.
He seemed unaware of her discomfort. “Sunday. I’d lost track of the days.” Having reached the bottom, he started toward her, the chiseled lines of his face relaxing into an amiable smile.
Lily’s inward struggle made her hands tremble, and she gripped the iron harder. She’d never found it hard to converse with John before. He’d been as much a friend as he was the owner of her papers. It was not his fault that her traitorous feelings had grown beyond her control. Say something. Don’t make him suspicious. She drew a shaky breath. “We womenfolk find it easier if each of us prepares one large dish to share with everyone. And of course you’ll need freshly pressed clothing, since folks wear their finest to service.”
John walked past her and plucked a cup from a shelf, pouring himself a steaming cup of tea from the pot left near the fire. “You’ve grown up to be a very responsible young woman, Lily.”
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Did he have to stay so close? She put more effort into ironing.
“I doubt your sister Rose would’ve been so eager to help me purchase your papers if she’d known you’d end up in a remote settlement like this, where an Indian attack could happen without warning. I’m even more surprised that after your other sister married a man of wealth, she wasn’t able to convince her husband to buy your papers from me.” He eased down in the dining chair nearest her. “You probably don’t know I thank God every day that she didn’t.”
Lily didn’t know how to respond. To think John actually thanked God for her, thought of her every day, just as she did him! Of course, his thoughts were undoubtedly far more proper, she chided herself. How would his opinion of her change if he learned that Mariah’s letters never failed to remind her of Colin’s offer to retrieve her—or worse yet, if John discovered the depth of her yearning for him?
She filled her lungs once more and reined in her dangerous thoughts while she adjusted the fabric. Then, picking up the iron, she changed to a safer subject. “The older boys have been very good about searching the surrounding woods for signs of danger.” At his appreciative nod, she continued. “While Matt and Luke were out the other day, Matt shot a buck near the creek. The boys came back for the horse to haul the buck home. Without so much as calling me to help, they managed to string up the stag and dress it out. I knew they wanted to surprise me, so I didn’t let them catch me peeking out the window.”
John tipped his head in thought. “And I found the three of you out planting when I arrived. You’ve done a great job with them, Lily. I especially appreciate your tender care of Susan.”
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