The late afternoon breeze feathered over the clearing, ruffling the edge of Lily’s muslin gown and toying with her hair. She caught a wisp that blew into her eyes and tucked it behind her ear as Davy’s chatter broke into her thoughts.
“When folks die, people bury ’em real deep.”
“Is that right?” She did her best to sound interested.
“Uh-huh. That’s so dogs and wolves can’t dig ’em up.” He looked down at the mound of earth Lily, Agnes, and Ruth were patting with the flat of their shovels to smooth out the grave. “I wish Mama wasn’t so deep, though. I miss her a lot.”
Agnes stopped to wipe perspiration dripping into her eyes. “When your pa gets home, he can make your mama a fine-lookin’ cross, what with all them nice tools he’s got an’ all.”
“Maybe he’ll let me help.” The little boy puffed out his chest. “I’m good at helpin’. Mr. Pat-a-son went to bring Pa home, didn’t he, Lily?” His huge blue eyes sparkled. “When’s he gonna get here?”
Agnes answered for her. “We’re not sure, little man. Soon, we hope.”
Just then a wild, piercing shriek came from the blockhouse beyond the trees. Lily froze. Indians?
Musket fire erupted from the upper floor.
Duke and the other families’ dogs took up a cacophony of growls and yapping.
Alarmed, Lily glanced about her. Half the people were scattered hither and yon. She and the two neighbor women—and Davy—were still here on the wooded knoll. The older boys were off tending livestock. Not one of her own was at the blockhouse!
Answering shots blasted from farther away, followed by a scream from the log structure.
Snatching Davy’s hand, Lily reached for the pistol she’d tucked in the crutch of a nearby maple tree.
Beside her, Ruth clutched the handle of her shovel in a white-knuckled grip, visibly shaking. “Oh, Lord, we’re gonna die!”
Agnes, musket now in hand, rushed to Ruthie and gave her a sound slap across her sallow face. “No time for hysterics, gal.” She then snagged the young woman’s hand and pulled her down behind a tree. “Stay put.”
Lily dragged Davy along as she ran to a break in the trees. She could see riders—not Indians, at least—coming down the trail on the other side of the creek, but she couldn’t make them out in the lengthening shadows.
When the horsemen emerged out of the woods and into the clearing, Lily released the breath she’d been holding. “It’s our men!” Racing off the knoll, dodging trees and brush, she headed for the creek. Please, Lord, let Emma be with them. Bring her back to us.
Matt, Luke, and the older boys reached the fallen log first and let out a gleeful hoot. “They’re back!”
Davy jerked free and sprinted for the footbridge ahead of Lily. His little legs working hard, he scrambled across with her on his heels. Lily desperately needed to see the riders clearly.
Ahead of her, the boys veered to the right as they reached the clearing. Lily followed. Panting for breath, she stopped, her eyes widening at the sight before her. Two little girls—Praise be to God!—Emma! Her little one rode double behind one of the men.
A cry tore from deep inside as Lily bolted straight for the approaching horse, her eyes filled with one small person. “Emma!”
Leaning out to peer around her rescuer, Emma reached out a hand to her. “Lily!” Then she burst into tears.
Reaching her, Lily pulled her darling off the still-moving horse. A tearful Emma collapsed into her waiting arms, then clung so hard, Lily could scarcely draw breath. She smothered the little girl with kisses. Emmy, her precious child, was home again.
Lily breathed a wordless prayer of thankfulness as she hugged the filthy little angel to her breast. Emma’s braids had come loose, and her pretty red hair was dull and matted. Scratches and bruises covered her arms and legs, her neck bore definite rope burns, and one little eye was black and swollen. Lily’s heart wrenched as her own eyes brimmed with tears. “Oh, my darling Emmy.” She drew her close again.
Matt, Luke, and Davy crowded around them, crooning sympathetically as they reached out, needing to touch their sister. “Glad to have you back, Sissy.” Then Davy’s voice rang out above the rest. “Pa!”
John? Lily followed the child’s gaze, and her heart skipped a beat. John was home! She’d been so absorbed in the joy of Emma’s return, she hadn’t noticed her rescuer! And at his weary smile, all the anger she’d harbored during his absence evaporated.
As John beheld the joyous, tearful reunion of his daughter and Lily, he easily identified with the lass’s emotion when she tugged Emma off the horse. He’d felt the same way the moment he’d had his daughter safe in his arms. Fully aware that Indians wouldn’t hesitate to murder little captives if they got wind of an impending attack, he, Calvin, and Robby had approached the camp with stealth. They waited long after dark, after the children had been cruelly bound to trees and the three young braves finally fell asleep, before they unsheathed their hunting knives and made their move.
The sleeping girls never heard the gruesome deed, but woke to two elated fathers who swiftly cut away their bonds and smothered them in hugs before whisking them away. Having Emma in his arms once more had been the most joyful, yet painful, moment of John’s life. He knew exactly how relieved Lily felt to have the child back.
When Lily looked up and saw him, her lips parted and she stared for a brief heartbeat. Then she gave a cry of joy and rushed with Emma right past the boys and into his waiting arms.
He enveloped them both, near tears himself, as the boys charged over and grabbed on. Davy jumped up and down. “Up! Up! I want up, too!”
Reaching down, John lifted the little tyke into the embrace, immediately finding himself in a stranglehold around his neck as his son peppered him with kisses.
“Hey, ever’body!” Davy hollered. “My papa’s back!”
His son’s words brought John up short. The captain had given him a mere five days, and he’d used a costly chunk of that to rescue Emma. How could he possibly desert them all again the day after tomorrow?
John trudged up the hill alone. The sultry gust of evening air rustled the leaves and carried the scent of fresh dirt—dirt covering his long-suffering wife’s final resting place. With heavy heart, he picked up a clod and crushed it in his hand, watching it dribble through his fingers, just as Susan’s life had. It was so senseless. A soft-spoken woman, she’d never had an unkind word for anyone. She shouldn’t have had to endure that debilitating ailment.
According to Cal, she’d been in a coma even before he left for the fort, so there was little hope John could have reached her before she drew her last breath. If only Busse had allowed him to come home weeks ago, when he’d begged for leave. His and Susan’s marriage had been a good one. They’d loved each other since they were the same age as Matt and Luke, and it crushed him to think how brief her time on earth had been. How would he live with the knowledge he hadn’t been with her at the end, holding her hand?
He should have pestered Captain Busse ceaselessly until the man let him go…. But the truth was a small part of him abhorred the idea of watching the love of his life take her final breath.
No. I left that to Lily and the children.
John sank to his knees. “I’m sorry, Susie-girl. So sorry I’m such a coward.”
“Papa!”
Davy’s cry brought John to his feet. He swung around to see his little boy scampering up the rise.
“Son.” He shook his head in exasperation. “I told everybody I wanted a few minutes alone with your mother.”
“That’s why I had to come.” Davy huffed, out of breath. “I runned as fast as I could.”
The statement made no sense. John knelt before the boy. “Davy—”
“Mama ‘splained it to me. So’s I wouldn’t worry.”
“What are you talking about? What exactly did she tell you?”
“She said the body she was wearin’ wasn’t no good no more, that it hurt all the time. So she was goin’ up to heaven to get a new one. She said Jesus would give her a brand new one up there. Lots better than this one. An’ she said she’ll be right there waitin’ for us. Soon as my body don’t work no more, she’s gonna make sure I get the bestest new one they got in all of heaven.” He stretched his arms apart to add emphasis.
Even with his heavy heart, John felt the twitch of a smile. “Did Mama really tell you that? The last part, I mean.”
“Well”—Davy scrunched up his face—“not a’zackly. But that’s what she meant. I know it.” He studied his feet for a second, then looked up again. “Mama always told me she loves me better than anything. So you’ll see. She’ll get me the best one they got.”
John did smile then. He pulled his little scamp into a hug.
Davy eased back enough to look straight at him. “So anyway, you don’t need to be frettin’ about Lily’s red eyes or Matt’s or Luke’s. They was just cryin’ because they was scared them mean Injuns was hurtin’ our Emmy. An’ they was right about that, huh? She gots bad marks all over.” Easing out of John’s grasp, he raised a clenched fist. “If I ever see them bad Injuns, they’ll be sorry.”
Reaching out, John took hold of his son’s little fist and peeled back the fingers. “The Indians who took Emma are already sorry for what they did, Son.” He tousled the towhead’s hair. He knew he should say the righteous words: forgive them as we would want to be forgiven, leave the vengeance to the Lord. But even though they lay dead, he still hadn’t been able to forgive them himself. Maybe in time, once his little girl’s scratches and bruises healed…. He released a ragged breath.
Rising to his feet, he took Davy’s hand. “Well, my little man, if your mama’s not here, I reckon there’s no sense in us hanging around, is there?” He started toward the cabin.
“Nope.” His son skipped along at his side. “But it sure will be differ’nt, not havin’ her to take care of no more.”
“I know what you mean.” John cast a backward glance at the sad-looking grave, strewn with a fading rainbow of wilted flowers. His childhood sweetheart, too fragile to live on earth any longer, had gone on without him.
“Oh no! Ever’body’s leavin’!” Davy wrenched free of John’s hand and bolted across the meadow. “Don’t go! I still wanna play!”
But the neighbors never slowed. John knew it was natural for them to load up and return to their homes. There’d been no evidence of a war party in the area, merely the three scouts who’d taken the children. And those varmints would never report to their chiefs again. Still, a very real threat remained. Captain Busse had relayed the sighting of an approaching force, and no one could be certain whether they’d come south or follow the trail east along Blue Mountain and continue down through the “Hole” and on toward Reading. Would they descend on a larger town this time?
Regardless, it was too dangerous for his family to remain at Beaver Cove without him any longer. He’d see them on their way before he left for the fort. His beloved Susan was gone—to get her new body. John couldn’t help smiling when he thought about Davy’s remark.
He climbed through the pasture fence just in time to see the last wagon heading out, carting with it a lamb, a calf, crates of chickens, and children. Worn-out Ian MacBride, slumped in his saddle, herded the larger livestock behind. Chasing after Indians for two days had taken a lot of starch out of the old fellow. But thank God, he and the others had never given up. John would be indebted to them for the rest of his life.
He scanned his farmstead, the piece of land where he’d invested all his hopes and dreams for himself and his children, the place he’d built with his own hands. Now it may have been for naught: the cabin he’d planned to expand one day into a bigger, nicer home filled with fine furnishings he fashioned himself; the stable already roomy enough to house six large animals; the corncrib; his workshop; and the springhouse, smokehouse, and sheds. He’d practically broken his back digging the cellar. Then there were the fields and orchard, the fencing—all in jeopardy. If everything were burned out, would he have the heart to start over?
He exhaled a harsh breath. Tonight he’d put aside his worries and enjoy his family. His time with them would be much too short.
Watching his dear ones waving to the MacBrides from the porch, he noticed that Emmy had on a fresh dress. Lily must have bathed her and tended her wounds and now had his daughter tucked close to her side. If ever he’d doubted the love the British girl had for his children, he never would again. She certainly was God’s blessing to them all.
He increased his pace to reach them, then slowed a bit as he noticed Eva Shepard, Toby’s mother-in-law, standing with them. Why hadn’t the woman gone home with her family? What possible reason could she have for remaining behind?
Of course. Lily.
Could the woman possibly have seen the way he’d looked at the lass the last time he was home? A familiar twinge of guilt waylaid him. Surely he’d managed to hide that forbidden yearning.
Or was it the way he’d drawn Lily close to him today, held on to her. When he’d been bestowing kisses on all the children, had he inadvertently kissed her, too? He might have. He wasn’t sure. He’d been so happy to see them all.
One thing was certain. From the way Eva was eyeing him, her arms crossed as he approached, she wasn’t here merely to help out. She was here to chaperone Lily.