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

by Crawford, Dianna; Laity, Sally

  He broke the seal and unfolded the paper:

  Dear Lily, Matt, and Luke,

  All is well here. The children are doing fine. We pray nightly that you are all equally well. Your grandfather and I want you to know you are always welcome. Please reconsider joining us here until after the war is over. Emma is afraid for you and misses you terribly. Davy says Matt and Luke can stay in the room with him, and Emma will sleep with Lily, the same as at home. They have the details worked out quite nicely.

  I dearly long to meet you, Matthew and Luke, and hope you will come.

  Your loving grandmother,

  Olivia Gilford

  “She’s a lovely woman,” Lily said. “You’ll adore her when you meet her. She has that same gentle spirit your mother had.”

  “Really?” Luke’s eyes clouded. “Let me see that letter.”

  As Matt handed it to him, Lily opened the one from Mariah. Knowing how blunt her sister could be, she debated whether to read it aloud. “Perhaps you two aren’t interested in this one. It’s probably girl talk.”

  “Sure we are. Anything that concerns you concerns us.” Matt slanted a glance to the pasture gate, where Jackson was unhitching a team of oxen.

  “Very well. But I must warn you, Mariah always says exactly what she thinks.” Several pound notes fell out of the letter when Lily unfolded it. Ironically, it was more than John had paid for her indenturement papers four years ago. Lily tucked the funds inside her apron pocket and began reading:

  My dear baby sister,

  I am most upset with you. I cannot believe you would willingly put yourself in danger again. If those Waldon boys were too stubborn to go to Philadelphia with you, they should reap their own reckless consequences. You should not have to suffer with them. I insist you leave that perilous place at once and come to us. I understand this letter may take weeks to reach you. But if you do not walk through my front door within the next two months, I shall send men to fetch you, with or without your consent. I refuse to celebrate another Christmas season without you.

  Your very worried sister,

  Mariah

  “She’s right, you know,” Matt commented, his eyes soulful. “You took an awful risk comin’ back here. It almost got you killed. You should go to her.”

  “Not without you. If I were to leave here, would you and Luke come with me?”

  Luke didn’t wait for his older brother to answer. “Pa will be back in a couple weeks. I wanna stay here for him. We’re safe now, even if I do have to share my loft with a passel of noisy fellas.”

  Lily ruffled his hair, shaking more bits of hay loose. “Then I reckon we’ll all stay here and wait for your pa. He should arrive before Mariah’s hired men. I don’t have to decide what I’m going to do until after he comes home.”

  “Right.” Matt’s gloomy demeanor matched his response. “Like which one of them two jaspers you’re gonna marry.”

  Lily inhaled a calming breath. She and the boys could have sat here the rest of the evening without that reminder.

  Lily drew her shawl tighter before taking the last bite of her supper. Not only were the evenings growing steadily colder for outdoor eating, but her nerves were constantly on edge. She suspected the news from Philadelphia wouldn’t be good. Both newcomers had avoided questions during the meal, promising to convey what information they had after supper. Post riders garnered more tidbits than any newspaper or broadside reported, so the air crackled with anticipation.

  Seated with the adult MacBrides and the Shaws, Lily noticed the women’s conversations centered on the contents of the letters they’d received, while the men were ominously quiet. She also noted that most everyone had finished eating as quickly as she had. The children had already scurried off to play hide-and-seek.

  The post riders, however, were taking their sweet time eating. Seated at the next table, with the Dunlaps and Pattersons, the horsemen shoveled in food as if it were their last meal. But considering the dangers of their occupation, one never knew when it might very well be.

  Too anxious to sit and wait any longer, Lily untangled her limbs from the bench and rose to her feet, straightening her skirts. “I’ll go prepare more tea.”

  She returned a few moments later with a large pewter pitcher in each hand and handed one to Agnes, then approached the cove’s guests. “More tea, gentlemen?”

  “That would be nice.” Jess Thomas and his companion held up their mugs. “Mighty fine spread you womenfolk laid out.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lily filled their cups and mustered a pleasant expression as she moved on to Jackson. “And you?”

  “Sure thing, purty lady.” He didn’t hold his mug up for filling, so Lily reached past him to retrieve it. Hearing his intake of breath and feeling his eyes on her, she quickly moved on, assuring herself the Lord would never expect her to marry someone so bold.

  As she moved to the next table, she realized that had it been John drawing her near and looking at her the way Jackson had, she’d have been thrilled. The only thing wrong with Jackson Dunlap was her and her wayward feelings.

  Cal’s voice cut into her musings. “If you men would care to join us down by the crick for a smoke….”

  The post riders immediately rose to their feet.

  They want to bring the men up to date privately! “Please!” Lily blurted out. “We women want to hear the news, too.”

  “That’s right.” Oftentimes prickly Edith Randall nodded emphatically. “Some of us don’t have our husbands at home.”

  The stocky visitor glanced around at the men, as if seeking their consent. “You sure about this?”

  Ian shook his head wearily. “Might’s well tell the womenfolk. Otherwise us men won’t get a lick of sleep tonight for all their badgerin’.”

  “If you say so.” Brown-eyed Jess Thomas took a position between the adult tables. “First off, you folks are doin’ the wise thing by bandin’ together. The redskins are still rovin’ both sides of Blue Mountain. They come in fast, burn and kill, then disappear again into the woods. One thing, though…you should be storin’ all your harvests here where you can best protect it.”

  Toby Dunlap nodded. “We been storin’ some of it in the blockhouse yonder, but we don’t have time to build nothin’ else right now. It’s all we can do to git our harvest in. Mebbe in a few weeks…”

  “Just lettin’ you know, them heathens know burnin’ you out before winter sets in is as easy a way of getting you out as killin’ ya. Me an’ Fritch here figger that’s why they ain’t started back to Fort Duquesne yet. They wanna destroy your food supply first.”

  “The only run-ins we’ve had here was a couple months back,” Richard Shaw said, “when they snatched away two of our children. We got ’em back, though.” He glanced at his anxious wife and gave her a confident tip of his head as muttering assents made the rounds.

  The post rider raised a hand. “Well, you picked a lucky spot for your settlement. What with the string of forts and blockhouses guardin’ along the Susquehanna not far to the west, the Injuns ain’t been comin’ this way. They’re crossin’ upriver of Fort Augusta and Shamokin an’ comin’ down through the Swatara and Schuylkill passes, which puts ’em quite a ways to the east of here. An’ even though the Indians at Shamokin say they’re loyal to us, we think some of ’em are guidin’ the Delaware in.”

  Jackson came to his feet. “We know all that. What we wanna know now is why aren’t there more militia comin’ out here from Philadelphia to help? An’ where are the troops from England? Why ain’t them generals tryin’ to take Fort Duquesne? Me an’ my brother refused to reenlist this year ’cause we can do more good here protectin’ our cove, since nobody else can—or will.”

  “I understand how you feel, lad. I did hear talk in Philadelphia that they’re still considerin’ takin’ that fort this year.”

  “Considerin’?” He spat on the ground. “It’s October, man. If they ain’t started out by now, they ain’t goin’ to.” Shaking
his head in disgust, Jackson reclaimed his seat.

  “Can’t help but agree with you,” Thomas said in a flat tone. “There’s another rumor floatin’ around that’s a mite crazy. Folks are sayin’ the governor wants to declare Pennsylvania its own republic and petition France to let us be under their protection. In exchange we would agree to let the Injuns freely pass through on their way to Virginia.”

  “Yer right about one thing,” Ian said. “That is crazy talk.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure,” Cal injected. “Last summer, folks on t’other side of the Susquehanna were talkin’ about doin’ somethin’ like that. ’Course, it’s too late for them. There ain’t too many people left over there. Not anymore.”

  Jess Thomas scanned the group. “Well, like I said, your forts along the Susquehanna have been the biggest help.”

  “Fort Henry is pathetically undermanned.” Jackson rolled his eyes. “Governor Denny won’t give the order to bring our men back from Fort Augusta.”

  The post rider eyed him steadily. “That bein’ the case, I’m surprised you an’ your brother left the militia.”

  That raised Jackson’s hackles. “We ain’t cowards. But month after month we was out there chasin’ ghosts. We hardly ever caught up to the marauders. We do better here, protectin’ what’s ours. An’ me an’ Frank ain’t the only ones. John Waldon an’ Bob Randall from here in the cove are both comin’ home in November to stay. We’re through havin’ our families out here with no protection.”

  Listening to Jackson, Lily found herself impressed with the strength of his conviction. He was a much more responsible, levelheaded person than she gave him credit for. He might be a touch clumsy about courting, but if an Indian raid did come, she’d feel much safer knowing she had his protection than Robby Randall’s. Jackson was militia-trained and truly cared about his family. Besides, he was rather nice looking, and strong….

  Chapter 29

  Nineteen more days,” Bob Randall commented. He and John scanned from beyond the fort’s clearing to the forest as they slowly walked the perimeter of the watchtower.

  “Soon we’ll be counting the hours.” John had been doing that for some time already He prayed constantly that Lily and his sons had done as he’d pleaded in his letter and left the cove. The French and Indians had taken particular interest of late in the area between the Susquehanna and the Schuylkill Rivers.

  Bob nodded. “I’ve been away so long, baby Laurie’s cryin’ will be like music to these poor ol’ ears. Did I tell you she’s been walkin’ for months now?”

  “Only about a hundred times.” John quashed a wry grin.

  “Sure hope Edith didn’t cut off those pretty curls of hers. They’re cute as anythin’.”

  John shifted his stance and peered more closely at the woods. “That’s right. I forgot she cut off little Charlie’s when he turned one.”

  “Well, he was startin’ to look like a girl. He’ll be four in a couple a days. I’ve sure missed a lot. Don’t think I’ll ever want to leave home ag—” He stared hard into the distance. “Hey, somethin’s out there.” He pointed toward the edge of the clearing.

  John wheeled around.

  A figure attired in French blue stood silhouetted against the trees, a hundred yards or so away!

  John peered through the spyglass. “I see him. A man in uniform.” Quickly he scanned the forest shadows on either side of the enemy soldier, but saw no one else. Of all the times for Captain Busse to be downriver at the fort at Harris’s Ferry. For days, the man had been too sick to make the return trip to Fort Henry.

  He handed the telescope to Bob. “Watch him. If others show up, give a holler. I’ll go report.”

  He descended the ladder and hastily covered the ground to headquarters. Reaching the open doorway, he saw Ensign Biddle, now in command, at Busse’s desk. A couple of other men stood in front. “Corporal Waldon reporting, sir. We spotted a French soldier out there. Seems to be alone.”

  “Where?” Biddle’s chair scraped back as the stocky man lunged to his feet.

  “At the edge of the forest, sir. In the southeast.”

  Several soldiers who’d come onto the porch after John flew by now blocked the entrance. One spoke up. “You think the bloke’s come to ask us to surrender? Are we surrounded? I knew it was dumb to let ’em order so many of our men up to Fort Augusta.”

  “We won’t have a chance,” another muttered. “Not with so many of our guys out rovin’ right now.”

  John was amazed at the outburst. Captain Busse would never abide such disrespectful conduct.

  The ensign broke past the mouthy pair without a word and charged for the watchtower with John at his heels.

  Once they reached the platform, Bob handed the spyglass to the commander and pointed toward the forest. “Over there, sir. Must be lost or somethin’. He just stood there watchin’ the fort, then plunked hisself down. Been right there ever since.”

  “I see.” Biddle’s face scrunched up as he squinted into the spyglass. “He’s armed. He’s got a musket across his lap.”

  John prompted the ensign to issue an order. “What do you think Captain Busse would want us to do?”

  “Uh—yes.” Biddle returned the spyglass to Bob. “You two stay here and keep checking all around. I’ll send two or three men out to learn why he’s there.” He shook his head. “We can’t afford to weaken the fort any more than it already is.” With a last glance at the French solder, he hurried back down to headquarters.

  John saw Ensign Craighead and two other men dispatched in short order. From his vantage point, he could tell they weren’t anxious to be going out there alone. Striding a number of feet apart, they held their weapons at the ready as they scanned the forest edge.

  No one else appeared.

  The Frenchman rose and strode forward, his musket held crossways above his head.

  “He’s surrenderin’. Don’t that beat all?” Bob frowned in confusion.

  “Keep watching. It could be a trick.”

  But it wasn’t. The soldier relinquished his weapon and came quietly along with the militiamen.

  Once safely inside the gates, the enemy soldier began jabbering in French. From time to time he would put his fingers to his mouth, indicating he needed food.

  Militiamen converged as the soldier in the light blue coat was escorted to headquarters. One snatched away the Frenchman’s tricorn, affording John a better view. Even from the watchtower, he could see the feared enemy was nothing but a shaggy-haired lad of sixteen or seventeen. Still, if he’d been wandering out there so near the fort, there could be others close by. How many? Would there be a full-scale attack?

  John’s heart plunged. Why now, with only nineteen days to go? Nineteen days before he was to leave for home to be with his boys and his darling Lily, if they were still there. Once again he sent pleas heavenward for their safety and for Fort Henry.

  An hour had passed since the French soldier was escorted to headquarters. In the tower, John and Bob continued to survey the surrounding woods, all the while vitally interested in the information the lad was giving the officers.

  John knew everyone at the fort shared his concern. Whenever he glanced down into the fort grounds, he saw fellow militiamen keeping close watch as they waited outside the building to hear what was transpiring in that room.

  Suddenly the door opened, and company clerk Carson hurried out. He dashed over to the cook tent, then ran back with a trencher of food without a word to the waiting men.

  Unable to hear the conversation being bandied about on the grounds, John surmised from the way the other soldiers milled around that their anxiety matched his. Everyone itched to know if an enemy force lurked nearby ready to launch an attack.

  From across the platform, Bob hiked his chin. “That lad may not be so hungry once he tastes that slop we eat.”

  John grinned at his friend’s dry humor.

  He caught a movement in the distance. Placing the spyglass to his eye, John zeroed
in on the spot. Just a deer. He relaxed.

  Then Carson came out the headquarters’ door again. “Anybody here speak French?” he yelled from the porch.

  No one stepped forward.

  The ensign turned on his heel and returned inside.

  Bob snorted. “Well, we got ourselves a prisoner, for all the good it’s doin’ us.”

  “Too bad we don’t have any English regulars here.” John’s gaze continued to rake the edge of the clearing. “Some of them might know that language, with England being off the French coast.”

  “Far as I’m concerned, the Brits an’ the Frenchies should be fightin’ the whole blamed war by themselves. Us colonials shouldn’t have ta risk our lives over some tree-munchin’ beavers across mountains you an’ me’ll prob’ly never cross just so’s them two greedy kings over the water can fill their treasure chests.”

  John cocked his head in thought. “Must be hard, trying to keep hold of so much territory. But there is a bright spot. Did you read the broadside the dispatch rider posted on the board yesterday?”

  “Naw. I don’t work my brain that hard ‘less I have to. ‘Sides, if there was anything worth tellin’, you would’a already told me.”

  “Ha! Well, there was something you might consider interesting. Seems the English have whipped the French in Bengal. Maybe some of those soldiers will now be sent here.”

  “Bengal? Where’s that? Up north somewheres?”

  “No. India.”

  “India. Are you tellin’ me they’re fightin’ over land in India, too?”

  John nodded. “And someplace in Africa called Senegal.”

  “Well, now. Ain’t they the busy ones.” Bob’s tone sharpened as he studied something in the distance. “Hand me the spyglass.”

  John tossed it across the deck to his friend then came alongside. He strained to see what had drawn Bob’s attention.

  His friend lowered the telescope with a sheepish grin. “Just some leaves on one of the trees wavin’. Thought mebbe somebody might’a climbed up it. But it was just a bear scratchin’ its behind.”