A bullet crashed into a tree close to where he’d been seconds ago.
While he reloaded, a chilling scream followed another shot. Jackson had the best war cry.
The lad’s fire was returned from two separate sources.
A musket report sounded from John’s other side. Most likely Bob. Everyone knew not to shoot at once and give the enemy time to reload and charge them.
Weapon loaded, John crawled forward, passing the Indian he’d shot, sprawled facedown across a stickery bush.
A few yards ahead, another brave broke out of the undergrowth and ran off.
John fired. Missed.
The warrior never stopped. As three others popped up and sprinted after him, John berated himself for not having loaded his pistol, too.
Someone else shot at the fleeing savages and missed, but at least the marauders were on the run.
John gave a victory yell then crawled behind a tree and reloaded both weapons. He could still hear distant shots coming from the far side of the blockhouse clearing.
Crouching low, he hurried toward the building, gasping in shock when he saw flames licking up from the roof of the watchtower.
Toby came alongside. “God protect them!” he shouted and started forward.
John grabbed his pal’s leg and yanked him back. “We have to stop the redskins on the other side first.”
“Look!” Toby pointed. “I saw water bein’ throwed on that fire. Our people are still up there.”
A shot fired from the blockhouse.
An Indian fell into the clearing.
“Come on. We gotta scare those devils off.” Skirting the cleared section, John led the way through the woods. Halfway around, he spotted a torch, the source of the flaming arrows. He fired.
It crashed to the ground, along with the warrior.
Another of John’s comrades fired and hollered. John yelled with the others.
In a flurry of feathers and painted bodies, a dozen braves exposed themselves and raced to the west after the others. They were leaving at last!
John emptied his pistol at them then charged out of the trees toward the blockhouse, yelling and waving his musket overhead.
The structure’s charred, sagging roof creaked and splintered then came crashing down. Were the boys up there? And Lily?
He had to get there before the fire reached below. Let everyone know it was safe. “Come out! Come out!”
He heard Bob and Jackson shouting as they emerged into the clearing.
If only someone inside would hear them. Open the door.
Reaching the building, John banged on the door with the butt of his pistol. “Open up! It’s safe! We’re here!”
Screaming and crying erupted inside, and he heard the bar being raised. Please let my family be there!
Another section of the roof crashed down in flames.
The heavy door scraped inward. Frantic, John gave it a mighty shove, and people rushed out, crying and laughing.
Luke grabbed hold of him. Then Matt. He hauled them close. His boys were unharmed. Thank You, God. Thank You. Thank You.
But— John’s heart pounded double-time. “Where’s Lily? Is she all right?”
Matt lifted his head from John’s shoulder. “Inside.”
Why hadn’t she come out? Didn’t she know the roof was about to…? Shoving his sons aside, John charged inside, where smoke was already drifting down through the cracks and filling the interior.
Then he saw her, kneeling with Cal beside a prone body.
Ian! The old man was conscious, but blood was staining the wad of cloth Lily pressed to his shoulder. Intent on her task, she had yet to look up.
“We had to drag him down the ladder,” Cal explained.
John glanced up the length of the steps, where flames licked through a splintered board across the ladder hole. Reaching down, he took hold of Ian’s arm. “Help me, Cal. We’ve got to get him out of here.”
Lily’s head jerked around. Her gaze met John’s and held. She continued to press on Ian’s wound while the men dragged him outside a safe distance away from the blockhouse. That’s when John noticed the bandage on her arm. She’d been hurt, too.
As he and Cal gently laid Ian down, Maggie and Agnes dropped to their knees beside the old man, taking over from Lily.
“Isna’ bad,” the Scot assured his wife and daughter-in-law, but the strain on his face belied his brave words.
Neighbors crowded close, talking and crying and laughing at once.
“Can’t abide gawkin’,” Ian said, wincing with pain. “Get the supplies outta the blockhouse b’fore they burn up.”
As John took a step back, Jackson caught Lily—his Lily—away. The young man whisked her off the ground and hugged her to him.
Lily’s wild gaze flew to John.
He didn’t know if she was shocked by Jackson’s aggression or was embarrassed that he’d seen her and Jackson together in such a familiar way. Fists clenching, he started toward them.
“Where’s Edith?” Emerging from the blockhouse with a sack of grain over his shoulder, Bob searched frantically around. “Where’s my wife?”
Edith! Lily pushed away from Jackson. “Let me down. Please. I need to go to Bob.”
“He already knows about Robby.” Frowning, Jackson lowered her to the ground.
“But not about Edith.” She scanned the crowd for him.
Several neighbors had crowded around Ian. Ruth was tending the slash across Richard’s cheek. Donald and Bob’s other children stood frozen in place, wide-eyed as they stared at their father. Bob’s gaze searched the area.
Lily hurried to John and took hold of his knotted fist. “Please, John. Bob’s going to need you now.”
His hand relaxed, and he wove his fingers through hers as she led him to his friend.
“Where’s Edith?” Bob asked again.
Lily placed a hand on his shoulder and prayed for the right words. “I’m…so sorry, Bob. Edith locked herself in the carpentry shop with Robby’s casket and wouldn’t come out for anyone. We need to go and see….” Unable to finish, she bit her lip.
“What?” Bob wrenched away from John and latched on to Lily, his fingers digging into her arms. She flinched in pain. “You left her to the Indians?”
“The war party came on us all at once. We had to run for our lives. It wasn’t until we were in the blockhouse being shot at that we realized she wasn’t with us. Believe me, there are no words to describe how terribly helpless we all felt. I’m sorry. So very sorry.”
John unfurled his friend’s fingers from Lily’s arms and took him in a firm hold. “Let’s go across and find out what happened to her. The Indians might have dragged her away with them.”
“Aye.” Reason began to take hold. “Aye.” The man dashed madly toward the bridge with John right behind him.
Although she dreaded what they were certain to find, Lily picked up her skirts and followed, uncaring that her arm burned and ached. She was more concerned about Bob and what he would have to face. She barely noticed that Donald, Matt, and Luke caught up with her.
On the other side of the creek, Lily saw that the springhouse and smokehouse, tucked in the trees near the creek, were untouched. Likely the Indians were saving them until they had time to empty the food stores. Climbing the rise, she passed the hog pen and noticed only one hog lay dead. The other three grown ones and their spring babies were still alive. The stable and corncrib, however, were nothing but charred jumbles. And just beyond…
Lily stopped in her tracks.
The carpentry shop still stood! Nearby, the roof of the cabin had burned and crashed in, and the interior still smoldered. But the shop appeared to be untouched!
Bob reached the structure and pounded on the door. “Edith! Edith! Are you in there?” He swung his musket up, butt first, and used it to bang harder.
Miracle of miracles, the door swung open. And there stood Edith, haggard and weary, her hair unbound and tangled.
Her h
usband gaped at her for a second, then pulled her into an embrace, kissing her and murmuring over and over in her ear. “I’ll never leave you again. Never. I promise.”
Lily stared at the couple in wonder, so overwhelmed by God’s mercy, she broke into sobs.
John immediately enfolded her trembling body within his warm, strong arms.
She clung to him, weeping, until at last she was able to regain control of herself. As Matt and Luke moved in to hug her, too, her heart ached with joy.
When her shuddering breaths eased into more natural breathing, John held her away and searched deep into her eyes. “Now, tell me. Why on earth didn’t you take the boys and leave here when I asked you to?”
Lily moistened her lips and swiped at her tears, then lowered her lashes. What could she say?
Chapter 34
John’s gaze pierced Lily’s soul as he stared at her, his features hard as granite. “How many times did I ask you, implore you, to leave Beaver Cove? Look around you, Lily. Everything you risked your life for, the lives of my sons for, it’s nothing but ashes.”
She had no words to speak in her defense. John had every right to be furious. With nothing to say for herself, her attention shifted to his youngest son. “Luke, run back to the blockhouse and spread the word that Edith is fine. There’s a good lad.”
“Yes, ma’am!” The boy trotted off, happy to be the bearer of good news on this tense day.
Reluctantly, Lily raised her lashes and peered up again at John. She opened her mouth to speak, but Matthew cut in.
“It ain’t all her fault, Pa. The families had already decided to stay together in one place, to keep safe. Besides, you know it was me that refused to go anywheres.”
His father pressed his lips together in a grim line.
Lily could tell he wasn’t ready to forgive her. She was the one in charge. She should have compelled the boys to go away with her.
John’s voice held a husky quality when he responded to Matt. “You two have no idea how I felt when we got to the valley and saw all the farmsteads on fire. I was so afraid I’d lost you, I could hardly breathe.”
“We know how that feels.” Matt raised his chin. “We watched our place burn up while we was trapped in the blockhouse. And we was sure Mrs. Randall was bein’ burned alive—or worse.”
Reminded that Bob and Edith stood but an arm’s length away, Lily turned to them. “Edith, dear, I have to ask by what miracle you were saved?”
Edith, composed now, but dispirited, snuggled close to her husband and tried to smile. “Them savages was in such a hurry to get in on the turkey shoot over to the blockhouse, they just broke out a window here an’ tossed in a couple of torches then took off. They didn’t have an inklin’ I was inside. I up an’ threw them fire sticks right back out. That’s them layin’ over yonder.” She pointed at two blackened lines marring the ground. “I was so worried for y’all, I never stopped prayin’.”
Lily shook her head in wonder. “We never stopped praying for you, either.” Moving to her friend’s side, she took Edith’s hands in hers—the woman who only this morning had been so beside herself with grief that she wouldn’t leave her son’s coffin.
“Bob tells me all my other young’uns are fine. That so?”
“Luke went to fetch them. Any minute now you’ll be able to see for yourself.” Sensing John’s presence behind her, Lily bit down on the inside corner of her lip as he put his hand on her shoulder.
“What about you? Your arm, I mean.”
For the few moments when she’d first caught a glimpse of him and then had to deal with his anger, she’d put thoughts of pain aside. But now it returned with all its biting and burning furor. Still, gazing into his eyes, she saw only concern in the blue depths, and it strengthened her. She ignored the discomfort, knowing the injury would be taken care of soon enough. “ ’Tis a bit of a slice, I believe. I didn’t even realize I’d been hit till I reached the blockhouse.”
Matt chuckled and shook his head. “You should’a seen Lily come racin’ in, draggin’ poor ol’ Eva behind her.” Suddenly he grew serious as he searched past her with a frown. “Duke! Duke! Come, boy!” Waiting a second or two, he ran off whistling in the direction the dogs had gone earlier.
Lily looked back at John. “The dogs charged out to the orchard this morning, barking for all they’re worth. They warned us in time, but we haven’t seen them since. I’m afraid the Indians might have killed them.”
John let out a resigned breath. “Guess I’d better go after Matt, then.” Turning, he loped past their gutted, blackened house after his boy.
Lily couldn’t help but appraise the destruction around her. Years of work she and John had put in, and so little had been spared. Whatever would he do now? What would any of them do?
John strode back from the orchard with his arm about Matt’s drooping shoulders. It seemed for every moment of joy, there was another of sadness. All three dogs lay dead, their bodies slashed by tomahawks and their throats cut. But Matt hadn’t shed a tear. He set his jaw, his face hard with hatred.
Passing the unburned chicken coop, John wondered if the chickens would return to it this evening, considering the burnt stench coming from both sides—the stable across the barnyard and the house. He heaved a shuddering sigh. Hundreds of hours of labor gone in a morning.
The door to the root cellar near the smoldering log house remained intact. “Wait here. I want to check that out.” He unlatched the door and swung it to the side, then climbed down the steep stairs into the shadowy, cave-like structure. His brows hiked at the sight of more canvas and jute sacks brimming with stores of fruits and vegetables than he’d ever seen it hold before.
“A lot of other families put their food down there, too,” Matt called from above. “You should’a seen our hayloft. That’s why the stable burned so fast. All that dry hay stuffed in. We been keepin’ a lotta extra livestock here.”
As John climbed back up, shouting and laughter reached him from out front.
Matt’s sober face softened with a little smile. “Must be the Randall bunch. God gave ’em a miracle, for sure.”
Rounding the corner of the rubble, John saw Bob’s kids running pell-mell toward their mother. His gaze landed on Lily, who stepped away from the enthusiastic mob and started toward him. She looked from him to Matt and back, but said nothing.
“The dogs didn’t make it,” John said quietly.
Lily’s eyes, soft with love, drifted to Matt. She reached out and brushed the hair from his brow. “Duke was a great dog, a true hero. He sacrificed his life to save us.”
The boy’s chin began to tremble, and he nodded. “He was the best.” He sniffed. “Think folks’d mind if we buried him up on the rise beside Mama?”
She turned her beautiful, questioning eyes up to John.
“Why should anyone mind?” he asked.
“Yesterday the lads dug a grave for Robby up there. Ian also mentioned building a church on the hill after the trouble is over—providing you approve, of course.”
John wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to donate a patch of his hard-earned land to anyone. He tipped his head at Lily. “What do you think? That’s quite a bit of property. Covers at least two or three acres.”
She shrugged. “It could be used for a schoolhouse later, too. Think how handy that would be.”
John couldn’t help wishing she’d have said the church and school would be handy for us, but she was not his. Disappointment pulsed through him. He angled his head in thought. “Since we’ve been here, cash money has been so tight, I haven’t been giving a tithe to the church, just helping folks out where the need happened to be. I suppose this could be my tithe.”
A wistful smile spread across her lips. “I like the sound of that. A thank-you to the Almighty for saving us all here this day.”
Standing before him with her golden hair every whichway, her day gown smudged and torn, and her delicate face streaked with dirt, Lily had never looked more beautiful
. Drinking in the sight of the silver-eyed angel who had spent years of her own life caring for his loved ones, John gave a thoughtful nod. “Speaking of money, I haven’t forgotten I’ve owed you two pounds since your indenturement contract ended. And extra, since you’ve stayed on since then to look after the boys.”
Lily reached out a hand, then retracted it. “No. You’re going to need every pence you have to rebuild. Mariah and my father sent me money from time to time during the last four years. I’ve more than enough already.”
“But didn’t it just burn with the house? The paper, the coins, they’re probably melted into the rubble.”
Her lips quirked into a half-smile. “Actually, with so many families living here, children running about and getting into things, I thought it best to bury it. My pouch is down in the cellar.”
John realized that Lily could have bought back her papers and left Beaver Cove years ago, had she wanted to. Yet she’d stayed all that time. Hope came to life. Then he reminded himself it was for Susan and the children, not him. Even were he bold enough to ask her to marry him, how would she react to his betrayal of his wife’s memory so soon? And what would the rest of the people of the cove think of him?
Looking over her shoulder, John spotted Jackson striding their way. His brash, young neighbor seemed certain Lily would marry him. If that were so, how would John deal with her living so close, knowing she could never be his?
“There you are, Lily.” Jackson stopped behind her and straightened his shoulders, his expression rife with confidence.
She turned toward him. “Why, yes. Your timing couldn’t be more perfect. The children are positively starved. We hadn’t even had breakfast before the attack. Would you mind bringing up a ham from the smokehouse?”
“Uh…sure.” He opened his mouth to say more, then clamped it shut and hastened off to do as she asked.
“Fast thinkin’, Lily.” Matt winked.
When she turned back to him and his son, John noticed a delicate tinge rise on her cheeks as she smiled at them. “Well, don’t make a liar of me, Matthew. Run down to the cellar and bring up a dozen potatoes and a couple of those large squashes. And, John, would you see if you can salvage any pots and skillets from the hearth without getting burned in the process? Oh, and may I borrow your knife?”
Daughters of Harwood House Trilogy : Three Romances Tell the Saga of Sisters Sold into Indentured Service (9781630586140) Page 90