Lily paused on the footbridge for a solitary moment. After the Sabbath meal, most of the other young people had hurried across to the blockhouse for its inaugural frolic. As heavy footfalls coming up behind jarred the log beneath her, Lily’s spirits sank. There was no mistaking those Dunlaps.
Purposely not turning to greet them, she held on to her cheerful attitude while taking measure of the tall, square, newly completed structure. The bottom floor had only one entrance and no windows. The top half of the upper floor, however, was open all the way around, creating a roofed watchtower. “It’s hard to believe you men finished that in such a short time.”
“We had to.” Frank craned his neck around her. “So you an’ me could dance the first reel together.” A rakish spark lit his dark eyes.
“Quite right. You did ask before the others.” She deliberately took lively steps away from him.
“Don’t forget, I get the second,” Jackson reminded from behind his brother.
“And Robby is third, and Donald fourth.” Though she’d spoken lightly, she thought of the younger girls and turned to face the pair. “ ’Tis important to me that when you dance with the other lasses you really and truly enjoy their company. I’d hate for you to hurt any of their feelings.”
“That’s what I love about you.” Jackson grinned. “You always think about others before yourself.”
“And I love your smiling ways.” Frank was not to be outdone.
Lily looked from one to the other and back. “Thank you both for your flattering comments, but we’d better hurry. I hear your father’s fiddle striking up a tune.”
Descending the steps cut from the large end of the log, Lily was impressed by Jackson’s surprisingly mature compliment, that he considered her character rather than her appearance. Perhaps her preoccupation elsewhere had blinded her to his attributes. After all, he was part of the military, and that required a certain sense of responsibility. He likely possessed other fine qualities, as well, if given a chance. This afternoon she’d study each of her suitors with a less biased eye.
Ignoring the steps as they followed her, the brothers leaped off the log. Each grabbed one of her arms, tucking it within his.
Jackson gave her arm a squeeze. “I’m glad John’s not comin’. A body’d think he was your big brother, the way he watches over you.”
Lily glanced back across the creek to the house, where on the porch with the older folks, John sat next to Susan, exactly where he should be. His wife needed him so, and his visit was nearing an end. Their time together was precious. Turning forward, she warded off a swell of disappointment by trying to recall Jackson’s compliment, but the words he’d said eluded her. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, thoughts of John stole them away.
Tears blurred Lily’s vision as she folded the last small loaf of bread in cheesecloth and placed it in the top of John’s knapsack, above the items she’d packed the previous evening. Two week’s leave had passed too quickly, and any moment now, John would emerge from the bedroom, from his last good-bye with Susan.
He was leaving. How ever would she cope? Or Susan or the children?
She had to cope. They all would. Blotting the moisture from her eyes with the hem of her apron, she drew a steadying breath.
The first blush of dawn glimmered in peach-hued glory through the trees. Soon he’d be on his way. She sank onto her dining chair and poured herself another cup of strong tea as she stared at the knapsack slumped on the table. He had to realize how desperately ill Susan was, yet he was determined to report back to military duties. How could he be so callous?
A creak sounded behind her. The door at the parlor end opened, casting John in a silhouette as he stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door.
Her chest tightening, Lily came to her feet.
He crossed the room, and the flicker from the hearth fire mirrored in his clear, blue eyes as he met her gaze. Stopping directly before her, he spoke quietly. “She finally agreed.”
“To what?” Surely he hadn’t convinced his wife to attempt the trip to Philadelphia!
“To let us write to her father and have him send a physician here. She knows she’s not strong enough to travel. The man can easily afford to send the best…if he will.”
Elated, Lily caught his arm. “Oh, John. What a splendid idea.” Then coming to her senses, she removed her hand, lest he think her forward.
He didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. “Susan probably told you he wrote a letter to her soon after we eloped, saying he’d disowned her. It caused her no end of grief.”
“Yes. I find it hard to believe a father could be so heartless. She can barely speak of him without tears filling her eyes. It’s been a great sadness.”
“Has it ever. Over the years, I’ve tried to convince her he’d written those words in the heat of the moment and that if he knew of her illness, he’d want her to get well again.”
“Indeed. ’Tis only right.”
He nodded in thought, then tipped his head. “Well, my dear girl, I’m afraid I must be on my way. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you would pen the letter while I saddle Smokey. I’ll take the missive as far as the mouth of the Swatara and give it to someone to take downriver from there. Hopefully, Mr. Gilford will receive it within a week or so.”
“Y–you’re taking the horse?” Their only horse…
A gentle smile softened his features. “Only as far as the MacBrides’. Young Michael promised to ride him back later this morning.”
Somewhat relieved at the news, Lily watched John toss on his heavy hunting shirt and walk out of the cabin. How silly she’d been to panic over an animal. It was John’s departure that warranted all her angst. She would hold herself together until he actually bid her farewell and took his leave. She would get through this. After all, the man was her best friend’s husband. He must never know of the improper desires of her heart. The last person who deserved to be hurt was Susan, her dearest friend in the world.
After collecting the writing materials, she could hardly concentrate on the correct words to say in her plea to Susan’s father. John’s departure kept intruding. She forced herself to use her finest penmanship, which did help.
Too soon his footsteps sounded on the steps, and he blew in on a rush of cold morning air.
Lily folded the hopefully sincere request then dripped wax from a nearby candle to seal it. Rising, she held it out to John. “I did my best to explain her condition and the urgency of her need.” She hoped her emphasis on the word urgency would give John further pause about leaving. Surely he realized his wife’s very life was draining away. How ever could he go?
“Thank you, Lily-girl. I’ve no doubt about that.” He slipped the letter into his haversack and hooked one arm through its strap. Blinking sudden moisture from his eyes, he swallowed hard. Then he took a step closer and reached out a hand to cup her face. “Please, dear Lily, don’t look so frightened. Cal Patterson and Toby Dunlap have promised to scout the Indian path every day. If they see anything suspicious, they’ll fire warning shots. Don’t forget to answer with a shot of your own. Then immediately reload and—”
She covered his hand with hers. “I know. You’ve taught me well. And get Susan to the blockhouse as soon as possible.”
“Right.” His eyes searched hers for an eternal moment. Then, unexpectedly, John drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. Crushing her against himself, he buried his face in her hair. “You don’t know how wretched I feel having to leave you here with all this.”
She felt the whisper of his breath ruffle a few stray hairs. Pressing closer, she clasped her arms about him, not daring to breathe, not daring to hope….
Then, just as suddenly, he released her and averted his gaze. “Forgive me…. I must go.” Snatching his rifle from above the door, he hurried out, leaving her bereft of his comforting warmth.
Oh, how she had reveled in that brief embrace, feeling the strong beat of his heart, inhaling the woodsy scent that was his alone, feeling for an instant that her dreams might—
Reality tore away that wayward hope. Awash in a wave of tears, Lily ran blindly to the door and flung it wide for one last glimpse of him, no longer caring if John saw her cry.
But he was already mounted and riding away.
Reaching the MacBride farmyard at the break of dawn, John spied his friend Patrick stepping off the porch of his darkened house.
“It’s started.”
The dreaded news gripped John as he dismounted. “Where? When?”
“A few weeks ago, up New York way. Fifteen hundred—maybe upwards of two thousand—French and Indians attacked Fort William Henry at Lake Champlain.”
The concept of an attack of that magnitude was harrowing.
Patrick caught Smokey’s reins and wrapped them around a fence rail. “They outnumbered the men at William Henry at least five to one.” He eyed John. “Don’t look so down in the mouth. It seems when the French sent Major Eyre an order to surrender, the post commander responded that he and his men would defend the fort to the last man.”
“Good for him. Who wants to be taken prisoner and handed over to be tortured by bloodthirsty Indians?”
“You can’t guess what happened next.” Unaccountably, Patrick cracked a grin. “The French burned all the outbuildings and the fleet of sloops and whaleboats, then turned around and went back home.” He clamped a hand on John’s shoulder. “Can you believe it?”
John tucked his chin in disbelief. “Who told you that?”
“Ham Lister, from up the Swatara, near Fort Lebanon. He stopped here for the night yester’s eve on his way home.”
“Well, if what he said is true, it sounds like the French have been taking lessons in fumbling from General Ambercrombie.”
Patrick hooted. “That’s just what I told Lister last night.”
At his friend’s grin, John felt his own smile break forth. “Who knows? There may be hope for us yet.”
“Ain’t that what we been prayin’ for?”
“Quite.” John shifted his stance. “By the way, speaking of praying, I have a letter in my knapsack to post, and it needs to be well received. It’s going downriver to Susan’s father, asking him to send her the most learned physician in Philadelphia.”
Patrick hiked a brow in understanding. “Didn’t you tell me her pa had a successful brickmakin’ business?”
“Right. Her family is quite prosperous.” He began untying his bedroll from behind the horse’s saddle. “The problem is that all of Susie’s life, her father and older brother dictated her every move. And for her to marry a mere furniture-maker’s apprentice was out of the question. I have to say, though, since having children of my own and knowing the powerful love I have for each one, I can’t help but believe Mr. Gilford must still care for his daughter…enough to send a good doctor.”
“What father wouldn’t?” Patrick tipped his head toward John’s belongings. “Put your stuff on the step with mine till the others get here.”
“Will do.” After setting down his gear, John spoke in all candor. “You know, if it hadn’t been for Susie agreeing to have me send that letter, I doubt I could’ve walked out the door this morning. She’s so weak. Almost helpless. It’s the worst possible time for me to go away…only it can’t be helped.” He grimaced. His leaving had been imperative. Even discounting the prospect of being charged with desertion, a more important reason remained.
Lily.
Somewhere along the way, she’d become far more than just a bond servant…more than a young sister…more than a friend. He loved Susan with his whole heart, and nothing would ever change that. But he could not deny he had developed feelings for Lily, also. Feelings he had no right to have. No matter how hard he prayed for strength, one look into those pleading gray eyes of hers, and he’d caught her to him, held her close, felt her soft body pressed against his. Even now, the very breath he drew retained her warm scent. Coward that he was, he positively could not remain at home any longer. The Bible does instruct us to flee from temptation…and that’s what I’m doing.
Pat’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Here come those Duncans, right on time. If anybody was goin’ to be draggin’ his feet this mornin’, I figured it’d be Jackson. That boy’s sure sweet on your Lily.”
My Lily. The memory of Jackson putting his hands on her infuriated John, but he restrained himself from blurting something malicious. Until now he’d always liked the lad. Time to start treating him with his due respect again. Jackson might not be educated, but he was a hard worker. Even with bullets flying all around them, he’d proved to be worth his salt as a soldier. Only last year, when John had been shot, it was Jackson who’d helped him back to the fort. He owed the kid.
All the same, John didn’t want to be fielding questions about Lily. Especially not now. “I’ll take my belongings to the canoe. By the time we float down past the mouth of Beaver Creek, Bob’ll be there waiting.”
Gathering spring greens along the creek, Lily glanced at Emma, noting how the little girl favored Susan, with her huge blue-green eyes, delicate cheekbones, and heart-shaped face. The child somehow seemed older than she’d been herself at that age. “You truly are a big help, do you know that?”
The little redhead smiled. “I like to help, ‘specially on a nice day like this.”
“Me, too.” But Lily couldn’t help observing Emma’s overly fair complexion. The child spent far too much time inside, sitting with her mother.
Emma glanced over Lily’s shoulder and let out a disgusted huff. “Aww, here comes that pest.”
Lily followed her helper’s gaze, to see Davy running pell-mell down the bank. She gasped when he tripped and tumbled to the bottom in a shower of gravel. But undaunted by the new dirt ground into his breeches, he sprang to his feet. “What’cha doin’? Playin’ in the water?”
“No, dummy. We’re pickin’ greens for Mama’s soup.” His sister flared her apron wide, displaying her bounty.
“I wanna help.” He grabbed up a bunch of water grass. “See? Green!” He held up the straggle of blades with a muddy hand.
Lily responded before Emma could deride her brother again. “Why, thank you, Davy. But we’re looking for special green leaves.” She held out a ruffled leaf from her apron’s collection. “See if you can find others like—”
Duke’s barking echoed from the barnyard. Sharp. Ominous.
“Somebody’s comin’!” Davy sprang like a jack-in-the-box to his feet.
Lily caught him by his shirttail before he could bolt and spoke in her no-nonsense tone. “Wait here. And be quiet. I’ll go see what’s wrong.” The approaching supper hour was an odd time for anyone to pay a visit. Leaving the children behind, she climbed the bank and searched toward the house, where the dog remained on alert, still barking toward the wagon trail.
Matt and Luke charged out of the stable, with Matt sprinkling black powder in his musket’s flashpan as he ran.
When the dog’s barking became even more shrill and steady, Lily stopped and pulled out her tin of gunpowder to ready her own weapon. He’d have quieted by now if it were a neighbor approaching. Reluctant to expose herself, she sidled up against the corncrib and peered around it, while the boys sprang up the cabin steps and waited in the porch’s late afternoon shadow.
The sound of several horses pricked her ears.
Fear trickled down Lily’s spine. John had been gone less than three weeks. He wouldn’t be coming back so soon—unless a war party was headed this way. Uneasiness spread through her.
Four mounted riders trotted up alongside the cabin and reined in, facing the front. Two wore the familiar attire of frontiersmen, and two had on tailored suits. From her position, Lily couldn’t make out their faces.
She saw her brave Matt step out of the shadow, his weapon crooked in his arm, but not aimed, letting the newcomers know he was armed. “Afternoon.” His brother moved to his side.
One of the frontiersmen hiked his chin. “Afternoon, lad. This the Waldon place?”
“It is.”
“Thank the good Lord.” One of the better-dressed men began to dismount, and the others did the same.
Deciding they seemed genuine and posed no threat, Lily moved into view, her worry escalating as she walked toward the group. “Have you brought bad news? Has something happened to John?”
As one, they turned to her. “No, miss.” A distinguished, older man of medium height, with fading auburn hair and a thin mustache, tipped his hat. “Actually, we fully expected him to be here.”
“I’m afraid he’s not. May I be of service?”
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Brandon Gilford. Susan Waldon’s father.”
Susan’s father? Lily couldn’t believe her ears. He’d come! “Is the gentleman with you a physician?”
Mr. Gilford’s companion, equally well dressed but more thickly built, bowed slightly. “Dr. Harold Shelby, at your service, miss.”
“Praise God!” Rushing forward, she threw her arms about Mr. Gilford’s neck. “Thank you! I prayed you’d come.”
Clearing his throat, the man gently extracted her arms. But his mouth spread into a jovial smile. “I’d prefer it if you’d turn that pistol the other way.”
“Oh. Of course.” As Lily blushed in embarrassment, Matt and Luke jumped off the porch and shook hands with the visitors.
The two little ones came running out of the trees, with Davy in the lead. “How do. How do,” the towhead called out on the way. “I’m Davy. What’s your name?”
Lily snagged him before he slammed into the men. “Mr. Gilford, I’d like you to meet your youngest grandson, David. Right behind him is our sweet Emma, and I believe Matthew and Luke have already introduced themselves. Children, this is your grandfather.”
“You mean like Grampa Mac?” Davy scrunched up his nose.
“No.” Matt came to his brother’s side. “This is our real grandpa. Mama’s papa. He’s brought a doctor to help her get better.”
Mr. Gilford’s smile vanished, and lines of worry furrowed his brow as he met Lily’s gaze. “How is my daughter, Miss—”
Lily blanched. “Oh. Forgive me. I’m Lily Harwood. Your son-in-law hired me to take care of Susan.”
He gave a nod. “The letter I received merely stated that she had a prolonged ailment which Baltimore physicians could not diagnose and that she was in dire need.”
Lily endeavored to convey the situation without using words that might overly alarm the younger children. “Suffice it to say her health is most tenuous. Do come in, gentlemen. Matt and Luke, would you please see to the horses?”
As the group started inside, Davy latched on to Mr. Gilford’s hand. “I like grampas.”
“And I love grandsons, my boy.” He chuckled.
Watching the exchange, Lily’s relief was so palpable at knowing the men had come to help, she wanted to cry, but there was no time for tears. Four guests had just arrived for supper.
She only wished it could be a more joyous occasion.