Bits of hay and yellow dust drifted down from the boards overhead where Matt and Luke raked a wagonload of hay the other lads had pitched up to the hayloft. Below them, Lily sat hunched over on the milking stool. After stripping the last of the creamy milk, she draped her apron over the pail to protect the contents from the falling debris. Then she brought the bucket out from under the cow and stretched out a kink in her back.
The boys started down the ladder. Lily had wanted to get Matthew alone ever since Sunday to ask him what he thought about Elder MacBride’s sermon. She was thankful she and John’s sons were no longer alone on the farmstead and vulnerable to Indian raiders, but she’d never felt so smothered in her life. People were everywhere, and they seemed to be watching her more than usual, since she’d received two marriage proposals in the same week. Everyone wondered which suitor she’d accept.
When her lads reached the bottom, Lily smiled at them. “Mercy, but you two are covered in straw.” She finger-brushed bits of hay from the younger boy’s hair while he and his brother dusted themselves off. “Would you mind if Matt and I had a minute to talk alone, Luke?”
His brows dipped. “Are you keepin’ somethin’ from me?”
“No, not at all. It has to do with a question your brother had last week about prayer. But you’re welcome to stay, if you like.”
“Naw, that’s all right.” He took the bucket from her and backed away. “I’ll take this to the springhouse.” Swiveling on his heel, he dashed off.
Lily had to laugh. “Next time I want to get rid of him, I’ll know what to say.”
Matt grinned. “Well, your talkin’ about prayin’ has kept Robby and that bossy Jackson away, that’s for sure.”
From his gritty utterance of Jackson’s name, Lily could tell Matt was still not fond of him. But that was a topic for another day. “You may be right about them. At least they’ve stopped bristling every time they see each other. But getting back to that question you had regarding prayer, did Grampa Mac answer you sufficiently last Sunday?”
His expression flattened. “Imagine him wantin’ us to love our enemies. An’ pray for ’em, yet. I’ll tell you how I’m gonna love any Injun that comes sneakin’ in here. I’ll shoot him right between his beady eyes, like I would some bobcat tryin’ to get our chickens.”
Placing a hand on his forearm, Lily met his gaze. “Matt, dear, ’tis right and proper to protect ourselves. But we still should pray that our enemies find the Lord. Think about it—if they came to know God, they’d realize that what they’re doing is wrong. Sinful. And hopefully they’d stop doing it.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I ain’t wastin’ one minute of prayin’ on them murderin’ heathens. They deserve to go to hell.” Before Lily had a chance to respond, he turned and darted out of the stable.
Watching after him, Lily wondered how to find the words that would make him understand, when many of the grown men felt exactly the same way. Yestereve, she’d overheard Cal and Richard saying they’d relish the chance to wipe out every Delaware this side of the Appalachians. She swept a look skyward. “Lord, please give me the right words and the right moment.”
She strolled outside and noticed people gathering around two horsemen. She recognized the taller one as Jess Thomas, the post rider who used to come riding through with mail every three or four weeks. With the current unrest, the cove was fortunate if he arrived every two or three months. Usually jovial and quick to relate a humorous incident encountered during his travels, his light brown eyes were somber, and there were added furrows on his forehead. His partner, a short, stocky fellow with small eyes, looked equally pensive. Both men carried muskets and a brace of pistols.
Drawing closer, she could hear folks peppering the visitors with questions. The tall post rider raised a hand for quiet and waited for the chatter to subside. “Let me hand out the letters, folks. Then if you have no objections, me an’ my partner’d like to stay the night. We’ll have plenty of time this evenin’ for swappin’ news.” He pulled a bundle of mail from his leather pouch and began calling out names. By the time he got to Lily’s, most of the neighbors had dispersed to read their missives. Matt and Luke joined her as the rider handed her two pieces of mail.
“Is one from Pa?” Luke peered over her shoulder, trying to see as Lily studied the writing.
Matt huffed. “ ’Course not, dummy. That post rider come from Reading, not from the fort.”
“One’s from Philadelphia,” Lily answered, “the other is postmarked Alexandria. That will be from my sister. Let’s go sit under the maple tree to read them, since all the chairs on the porch are occupied.”
Luke grabbed her hand to hurry her along. “Let’s hear about Emma and Davy first.”
The boys plopped eagerly to the ground. Lily handed the letter from the Gilfords to Matt. “You read it.”
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….