As always, the richly appointed dining room with its exquisite china and silverware impressed Lily as she entered with Rose and the Barclay family. She and the others were as richly attired as the furnishings, and even the food they’d be served would be worthy of the beautiful surroundings.
Everything flowed so graciously for these people, Lily mused. The women’s hands were soft and white. No blisters or calluses ever marred them, no redness from lye soap. They’d never bent to cook over a hot hearth, washed a soiled dish, or boiled and scrubbed dirt and stains from worn work clothes. They’d never spent evenings at a spinning wheel or darning stockings, spent days behind a plow or in the stable helping a mother cow give birth. So why couldn’t she embrace all Mariah wanted to offer?
Lily’s gaze gravitated to Mariah and her strikingly handsome husband as he flawlessly assisted his wife into her seat. Only a small scar at his temple gave evidence to the battle wound that had blinded him. And with Mariah’s impeccable taste, Lily surmised her sister had some dashing, refined gentleman picked out for her, as well.
From the head of the table, Mr. Barclay spoke down the lengthy expanse in his easy Virginia drawl. “Cora, my dear, Colin and I stopped by for a short visit with Victoria on our way home. She asked how your arrangements for the ball were comin’. She and Heather are both countin’ the days.”
Colin chuckled. “Tori’s simply devastated that the fabric she ordered for her gown has not come. The poor, put-upon dear had to choose some utterly dreadful brocaded silk.”
“Colin,” his mother scolded, “you shouldn’t belittle your sister. It’s most important to maintain a certain standing among our friends. I’m quite proud of Victoria and the added grace and elegance she’s brought to that household. I can say the same about Heather, also, since her marriage to Evan Greer.”
Grace and elegance. Lily suppressed a smirk. The thought of any of her cove neighbors seeking a wife to add grace and elegance to his home was laughable. Those men chose capable wives, women who could work alongside them to build a home and a life together—and fight with them to save it, should need be.
Seated next to Lily, Rose nudged her with an elbow then turned to their host. “Mr. Barclay, did you perchance hear any news of the war while you were in Baltimore?”
“No, lass. With winter upon us, things should remain quiet until next spring.”
Colin turned his vacant stare in Rose’s general direction. “There was that one tidbit about the captured French soldier who got separated from the Indians he was supposedly leading, and they all disappeared on him.” He gave a hearty laugh. “After a week of starving, the illustrious leader stumbled onto one of the forts along the Susquehanna and gave himself up.”
Lily nodded. “Fort Henry.”
“I believe so. Wasn’t that where your Mr. Waldon was posted?”
“Yes. Did the Frenchman give any other information?”
Colin shook his head. “Just that he’d been dispatched from Fort Duquesne with some thirty-odd Indians to harass the settlements along the frontier.”
“Which they do quite viciously.” Lily swept a glance around. “Once they sneak past the string of outposts on our side of the river, they separate into parties of five or six and attack lone farmsteads in sundry places, burning and murdering as they go.”
“Rather ingenious, really,” Colin admitted. “A small number can keep a much larger population on edge, wondering where they will strike next.”
Lily knew that all too well. “Quite. They’re rather successful at frightening settlers into abandoning their homes and leaving the area.”
Mr. Barclay entered the conversation. “It’s imperative that our forces take Fort Duquesne next spring and stop the supply of goods that buy the services of the Indian tribes.”
“Will the British generals finally do that?” Lily met the older man’s gaze.
A crystal bell rang at Mistress Barclay’s end as the hostess signaled for the food. “Please. No more war talk at the dinner table.”
“Quite right, my dear.” Her husband cleared his throat. “How are your plans for the ball coming?”
How easy it was for these people to dismiss the war and any other unpleasantness, Lily thought bleakly.
“The Kinsales have sent their acceptance,” Amy said.
Across the table, Mariah raised a meaningful eyebrow. “A reply we’ve been most anxiously waiting for, wouldn’t you say, Amy?”
The young miss turned a becoming shade of pink, a sure sign of blossoming love.
At that moment, the butler and Pansy, the maid, brought in trays of delectable-smelling food. Everyone waited as the house servants carefully dished portions of ham and glazed vegetables on each person’s china plate, then left as quietly as they’d come.
No passing of heaping bowls or platters around here, Lily thought.
“Let us give thanks.” Mr. Barclay bowed his head. “Our gracious heavenly Father, we thank You for Your generosity and the bounty You provide. We pray for Your continued protection over Rose’s husband and all those who are fighting to save our western frontiers. Please give our British generals the wisdom and fortitude to go forth next spring and end this threat to the settlers. We ask this in the name of Your precious Son, Jesus. Amen.”
As Lily raised her head, she realized the wealthy people at this table made up a fine Christian family who cared about the plight of others. She also knew for a certainty that no matter how much they wanted her to be part of them, they were not her family. She didn’t need three months to conclude her family lived 150 miles away in Beaver Cove. But how would she ever find a way to make her sisters understand she wanted to give up all this luxury and safety for a life of danger and hardship?
Be honest.
“Come and get it!” The call echoed over the incessant clatter of pounding, chopping, and sawing. John glanced down from the roof of the new MacBride cabin to see Edith Randall holding her woolen shawl close as she waved an arm over her head. The noon meal was ready.
The hardworking men were eating much better since a few of the womenfolk had returned to the valley, though most meals had to be consumed outside in the damp December weather at whichever farmstead they happened to be working. As Edith’s smaller children ran toward the long tables set up in the yard, the menfolk ambled from their tasks at a slower, but no less eager, pace.
“I could eat a horse,” Bob commented from the other side of the roof.
Pounding a peg through a shingle, John grinned at his friend. The Randall cabin had been the first one completed, since Edith feared her aging parents in Chestertown wouldn’t be able to endure her rambunctious brood for long. She and the little ones had been back for almost a month now. Millie and Cissy Dunlap came soon after, Cissy being too enamored with young Donald to stay away.
An unbidden vision of Lily, smudged nose and all, gazing up at him with those bewitching silvery eyes made John’s smile die as he crossed the sloping surface to the ladder. If only…
He stifled a heavy sigh. This last house would be finished by day’s end, giving Pat and Ian’s family time to return to the cove for Christmas and him and his boys time to reach Philadelphia. The Gilfords had extended an invitation to celebrate the holy days with them, and John hoped that would perk up Matt and Luke. Their hangdog expressions showed they missed Lily almost as much as he did.
Reaching the bottom rung, he saw Cal burying his hatchet in a stump where he’d been shaving shingles. John waited for his pal to catch up, then gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Almost through.”
“All of us workin’ together sure has helped things go faster.” Cal pulled off his canvas gloves. “Still, it’s hard to believe we’ve rebuilt five cabins and animal shelters in seven weeks.”
John nodded. “Thank heaven for all the October rains. Without them, a lot more would’ve burned. We were able to reuse an amazing number of logs and boards. That was a blessing.”
“Wish Nancy’d change her mind an’ bring the young’uns back here when the MacBride women come. There hasn’t been a sign of Indians anywhere below Blue Mountain since the attack on our cove.”
“That’s right. I forgot you and the MacBrides came here together.”
“Aye. We all hail from Queenstown.”
John picked a splinter from his palm as they strode along. “I doubt Richard and his family will come back even next spring. They might after the hostilities are over, though.”
“That makes three families we’ve lost.”
“I regret the loss of Richard Shaw the most. Young as he is, he worked hard to prove up his place. Maybe if their children had been a bit older…”
Cal chuckled. “Ruthie, too. That li’l missy could howl louder’n a pack of wolves when she got scared.”
“Not my—” John caught himself before uttering Lily’s name.
The aroma of roast pork drifted toward them before they reached the table, and John’s stomach growled. His boys waved him to the place they’d saved between them.
“Mind hurryin’ along?” Ian stood at the head of the table. “I need to say grace.”
It was good to have the older man back, even without full use of his left arm. He’d returned last week, after Pat received a three-month furlough from Fort Henry.
John had hiked one leg over the bench when he heard a dog bark in the distance. Then another. Since all the dogs in the cove had been killed, he glanced across at Toby and his grown sons.
The other men all disengaged themselves from the benches, and John and Cal bolted for the muskets they’d left leaning against the cabin wall.
The unmistakable sound of hoofbeats came from the Swatara Creek trace. Before he was able to uncork the powder horn, John heard splashing in Beaver Creek. Whoever was coming would be here in seconds.
As three large dogs bounded into the MacBride clearing, John swung his weapon around to use as a club.
On the dogs’ heels came riders and horses.
“Papa! Papa!”
John lowered his musket. Davy! And Emma! They were on the first horse!
And wonder of wonders—Lily!
Leaning the weapon back against the wall, he blinked hard and looked again. Lily rode right behind the children. She’d come back! And she’d brought his babies! He didn’t know who to run to first.
Before he could decide, other riders leading packhorses stopped between him and his dear ones.
“Papa!”
Dodging around the animals, he found Lily already on the ground. He caught her to him and hurried to the children, but Matt and Luke were already lifting them down. In an instant he had his whole family in his arms. His heart nearly burst with joy amid the excited childish chatter as he kissed his clinging little Emmy, who looked so much like her sweet mother. Wiggly Davy was next. Then his beloved Lily.
“What’s all this stuff?”
Matt’s question drew John’s attention from the sparkling gray eyes that held such promise. He set the little ones on the ground, noticing that there were two men and more than a dozen horses, most of which were loaded with goods.
Neighbors, all talking at once came to join the group.
Holding Lily against his side, John ambled over to the strangers. “You are most welcome. Thank you for escorting my family here.”
“Only thanks we need is to share your grub,” the huge backwoodsman with rough features said.
“Aye.” His stubby partner gestured with his disheveled head at Lily. “Your missus insisted we start out a’fore first light this mornin’.”
Ian spoke out. “Yer welcome to partake of our vittles. Ye rode in from the Susquehanna?”
“Yep.” The first one eyed the food-laden table. “A crew of rivermen poled us an’ all this truck up as far as the Swatara.”
“The dogs, too?” Matt knelt down to pet one that was sniffing around his legs.
“Yep. Brung them mangy curs right along with us.”
“Hey, they ain’t mangy,” Davy piped in.
Lily laughed. “No, they certainly aren’t.” She glanced at John. “If you don’t mind, I thought we’d keep the female and let the Pattersons and MacBrides have the other two for watchdogs.”
Davy puffed out his scrawny chest. “An’ when Queenie has pups, I’ll give ’em to whoever wants ’em.”
“Except the prettiest one.” Emma planted a fist on her waist. “I get to keep that one.”
“Hey, folks,” Edith called from the table. “Food’s getting cold. Come on an’ eat. We can catch up later.”
Millie and her daughter had already set more places, and everyone found a spot to sit. John still couldn’t let go of Lily. He couldn’t believe she’d come back.
Directly across the table, Jackson looked at both of them, then grunted and offered a lopsided grin. “Ain’t no never mind. Figgered as much. ‘Sides, I got my eye on the sister of Frank’s gal. Don’t know why he didn’t pick the purtier one.”
Down the way, Millie wagged her salt-and-pepper head. “We’re still talkin’ about them German gals. I’m not sure I like the idea of you boys bringin’ home wives that can’t hardly speak English.”
“Wait’ll you see ’em, Ma.” Frank angled his head toward her with a lovesick expression. “They got hair blonder than the sun an’ eyes bluer’n the sky.”
Ian’s voice boomed along the length of the table as he looked straight at John and Lily. “Since we’re on the subject of courtin’, I reckon we’ll be needin’ us a weddin’ today, soon as we finish the cabin.”
Beside John, Lily stiffened slightly.
“Either that or our Miss Lily will be spendin’ the night at the Randalls’.”
John’s mouth fell open. How could the old man be so crude?
“Well…” Lily relaxed against John again. “Since those Randall children are simply too noisy to abide, I suppose I have no choice.”
Everyone laughed and started talking at once.
Amazed beyond words, John drew Lily’s sweet self so close, he couldn’t tell if it was his heart or hers beating with such incredulous joy.