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?”
“As you wish.” He handed her his hunting knife and started around the smoldering remains of the kitchen, amazed at how his sweet, shy Lily had taken charge. With no effort at all, she’d dispatched all three of them to do her bidding. Another thought teased his consciousness. Considering Matt’s remark, perhaps she wasn’t quite as spoken for as Jackson Dunlap had led him to believe.
Surveying the confusion around him, John saw Ian’s friends assisting the old man across the creek. His wound had been cauterized to stop the bleeding, and his wife had fashioned a sling for him. Maggie wasted no time getting her injured husband settled on a chair someone brought out from the workshop.
As aromas began wafting on the air from food cooking on open fires, Ian’s wife insisted on seeing to Lily’s arm. “Don’t want no infection startin’ in, you know,” she said, clucking her tongue as she assessed the injury.
The older kids entertained the little ones near the well, and John gathered with the other men around Ian to plan the next move. He squatted down with Bob, his closest friend.
Richard Shaw still held a cloth to his cheek. He glanced at his friends and shrugged. “Still seepin’ a bit. It’ll stop soon ‘nough.”
“I believe the poker those wee womenfolk used on my shoulder’s still hot.” Ian’s chuckle turned into a groan. Despite his pasty look, the Scot never lost his humor.
“Think I’ll pass, if ya don’t mind.” Richard gave a one-sided grin. “Wouldn’t wanna scar up this purty face any more’n I have to.”
“I don’t think those savages’ll tangle with the likes of us again anytime soon,” Toby Dunlap said. “But what with winter breathin’ down our necks, I don’t see we have much choice but to send the women downriver to whatever family or friends’ll take ’em in for a spell. Meanwhile, me an’ Jackson’ll stay here with our livestock an’ get our place built back up.”
“So ye plan on stayin’,” Ian said thoughtfully. “I’d be obliged if ye’d look after our animals. With Pat still up at the fort an’ me winged, we’ll have to leave here for a while. Leastwise, till I’m fit again.”
Cal met his gaze. “Would you mind takin’ Nancy an’ my young’uns down to Baltimore with you, Ian? I’ll be stayin’ here, too, with my oldest boy.”
Bob kneaded his beard and focused his hazel eyes on John. “What d’ya say, my friend? You game? We could turn that workshop of yours into a barrack till we get some roofs up.”
“You men really want to start all over?” John looked from one to another.
Bob shrugged. “I ain’t got nothin’ to go back to anyplace else. Took all I had to buy my piece of land here an’ bring in my family. Donald’ll stay with me, won’t you lad?” He gave his second son, crouched on his other side, a hug.
“We built our places up from scratch the first time,” Cal added. “Nothin’ says we can’t do it again. Fact is, it should be easier this time. Our fireplaces should still be good. An’ think of all the clearin’ an’ fencin’ we already done.”
Richard eyed them with a bit of hesitance. “If we had some real assurance the redskins wouldn’t be back, I’d stay around. I’m not sure I’ll be able to convince Ruthie to come back till it’s safe, otherwise.”
John glanced over his shoulder at the women busily cooking over what were normally the washtub fires. Several of them, Lily included, slanted inquisitive glances his way. If he agreed to stay, he and the boys would be separated from her again. No, it would be just him and the children this time. Lily would be returning to her own family.
Disheartened, he turned his attention to the men grouped around him. “I’ll stay. Me and my boys—if they want to. I came here to provide them with a future, and I intend to see it through.”
“You mean you’re gonna send all the womenfolk away?” Young Donald shot a plaintive look at Cissy Dunlap.
John started to smile. Then he saw Jackson lean past Richard to get a gander at Lily.
The young man rose to his feet. “If everything’s settled, I’ll—”
“It’s not.” John blurted out the words. He waited, watching until Jackson crouched down again. “There’s still the matter of the rafts we’ll need to build for transporting the women and children, to say nothing of supplies. They’ll need as much as we can spare. We can build cabin shelters on the rafts and hire river men to take them from the mouth down the Susquehanna.”
Toby nodded, his face set with determination. “Let’s get started right after we eat. Shouldn’t take more’n a day or two. I’m sure there must be wood we can salvage at the MacBride place.”
“So, is that it?” Jackson stood up again. Without waiting for a response, he made a beeline straight for Lily.