This is our house.” Davy puffed out his chest, jabbering with boyish pride as he led his grandfather and the other guest inside. “Our pa built it. And we have the bestest table in the whole cove. Pa made it before he went off to kill Injuns.”
Preceding Lily into the cabin, Mr. Gilford shot a frown back at her.
Obviously the man had no idea that John had gone away. Afraid of what he might say, Lily squeezed Emma’s hand. “Sweetheart, our guests must be awfully thirsty after their trip. Would you please run down to the springhouse for the pitcher of buttermilk?”
The child opened her mouth as if to protest, then closed it. “Yes, ma’am.” She turned with a swirl of her muslin skirt and raced down the steps in an obvious rush to get back before she missed too much.
“And Davy, go out to the cellar and get four more big carrots—so we can fix supper for our company.” The explanation squelched the imp’s inclination to balk. With his lower lip protruding, he scampered off.
Lily gestured toward the parlor. “Do have a seat, gentlemen.” Having heard from Susan about her father’s finely appointed mansion, she couldn’t help casting an assessing look around the simple room with its sturdy, pillowed chairs—all John and Susan’s handiwork. The only embellishments were a pair of framed proverbs Susan had embroidered in her better days and hung on the walls. Even the window curtains had faded over time and showed wear. Surely a prosperous city dweller would find the abode crude indeed. But that could not be helped. Either the man would approve of his daughter’s circumstances or he would not. Nothing could be done about it.
Despite her misgivings, Lily saw only deep concern on the gentleman’s face as he paused in the middle of the long room. “May I see my daughter?”
“I’ll take you to her, sir.” But as she neared Susan’s chamber, she added a warning whisper. “Please prepare yourself. Susan is extremely thin and frail. Very weak.”
His golden brows shelved over his eyes in concern. “Just take me to her, Miss Harwood.”
Lily hoped that after all the years that had passed, the man didn’t still harbor anger toward her dear friend. “This way, please.”
Reaching the bedroom door, he rushed past Lily and strode in, then stopped so suddenly, she nearly bumped into him.
“I thought I heard visitors.” Lying in bed, Susan had expended the effort to sound cheery as she attempted to raise her head. “Lily, dear, would you help me sit up?”
Lily sidestepped Mr. Gilford and hurried to the bedside. Plucking an extra pillow from a nearby chair, she reached under Susan’s shoulder and brought her up with very little assistance from her mistress.
Mr. Gilford, lingering near the doorway, released an audible breath and spoke in a hoarse murmur. “Susan, it’s your papa. I’m here, honeybee.” With a watery smile, he crossed to the bed.
“Papa? Is it really you?” Reality gave Susan’s voice strength. “Papa!” She stretched out her hands to him.
With a moan, the loving father knelt beside his daughter’s bed and drew her gently into his embrace, and the two wept in each other’s arms.
Lily’s eyes flooded at the joyous reunion she’d hardly dared hope to see. The good Lord had brought the man here, had provided a father and a daughter with a chance to erase silent years that had separated them, before it was too late. Knowing she was no longer needed, Lily slipped quietly from the bedchamber, swiping away her tears with both hands.
“Miss?” The doctor looked up as Lily closed the door behind her. “May I speak with you?” Seated in the parlor with the two bearded frontiersmen, who looked ill at ease dressed in heavy garb in the warm room, he stood to his feet. He smoothed his brocade waistcoat over the curve of his belly.
“Of course, Dr. Shelby.” She sniffed, trying to regain her composure. “Please join me near the hearth, if you would. I need to check the stew.” She was loath to speak of Susan’s personal ailments in front of the backwoods strangers. Reaching the fireplace, she unhooked her big wooden spoon and potholder and lifted the lid from the footed kettle, giving the mixture a few stirs.
The physician stopped beside her. “Miss Harwood, the letter you wrote to Mr. Gilford was quite vague. Would you describe in detail the nature of your mistress’s ailment?”
Gathering her thoughts, Lily replaced the spoon and moved past him to take a seat at the table.
He did as well, never taking his eyes from her. “Is the invalid contagious?”
Elevating her brows, Lily stared into his wide-set eyes. “No, sir. When I first entered into service for the Waldons, Mr. Gilford’s daughter had recently given birth to Davy. Her joints had started to swell, causing her a good deal of pain. The physician in Baltimore suspected it was some sort of rheumatism and gave her a tonic, along with salves he felt might help. They did not.”
He pursed his lips. “So. Might I ask why the Waldons left Baltimore for this remote settlement if she was unwell?” The man glanced around the rustic room, his disdain more than obvious.
Offended by his superior attitude, Lily felt her hackles rise. “They’d already purchased the land here, and since the doctor didn’t know anything else to do for Susan, she insisted they not alter their plans to move here and put down their roots. Sometime later, when a skin rash developed, her husband wrote to the physician for advice.”
“What was the doctor’s name? Perhaps I know of him.”
“A Dr. Whetsler, I believe.”
He nodded. “Yes. He’s considered competent enough.”
“Indeed. Well, he suggested the rash might be due to something she ate. He sent more salve, which helped somewhat. After that, Susan had good days and bad as the swelling and rashes would come and go…up until this year, that is. Now it’s as if her condition has moved deeper inside her. We’ve become very concerned about her breathing of late…and her heart.”
She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “And I don’t think Susan is”—hesitant to speak of such private matters, Lily searched for more delicate words—“expelling her fluids as she should.”
Dr. Shelby rubbed a hand across his stubbly jaw. “I was afraid of this. So, I might add, was her father.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some years ago, an older aunt of Susan’s suffered from the same ailment. And its onset also came after the birth of a child.”
At his words, relief surged through Lily. “Oh. Thank heavens. Then you’ll know what can be done for my mistress. That’s splendid.”
His expression did not waver. He wagged his head and sighed. “I’m afraid it’s quite the opposite, child. I tried every remedy possible. The good woman continued to waste away and finally passed on, leaving all my colleagues in Philadelphia and Boston as baffled as I was.”
Alarm tightened Lily’s throat. “Surely there’s still hope for Susan! There must be something you can try. Some way to alleviate her condition.”
“The most advice I can offer at this point is to keep Mrs. Waldon as comfortable as possible, until….”
Having her hopes dashed at her feet, Lily’s heart plummeted. She jumped up. “That’s it? There’s nothing to be done? I refuse to accept that.” Angry now, her breaths came out fast and hard as she crossed her arms in despair.
“What’s happening?” Davy charged into the cabin, clutching carrots in his hand. “Are you gonna do somethin’ without me?”
Schooling her features, Lily composed herself and knelt down to his level. “No, dear. We won’t do a single thing without you. Thank you for fetching the carrots for our stew.” She took them and stood up.
A flash of movement out the window revealed Emma coming, soft-footed and cautious as she toted the big, heavy pitcher of buttermilk.
Suddenly the dire news the doctor had uttered filled Lily with new horror. Her knees went weak, and she caught hold of the chairback. Dear Emmy. Would the sweet child one day suffer the same terrible fate as her mother?
Mr. Gilford spent nearly every waking moment of the next two heartrending days with his daughter. His presence lifted Susan’s spirits so there seemed a slight improvement in her condition. Her smiles came more easily, and Lily often heard light laughter drifting from the bedchamber where Susan visited with her father.
But the time had come for the party to leave for Philadelphia once again. Passing by the room, Lily caught sight of Mr. Gilford sitting on the edge of Susan’s bed, rocking her in his arms and kissing her. Their tearful farewell brought a lump to Lily’s throat. She feared it would be their last time together.
The man’s voice was husky with emotion as he murmured in his daughter’s ear. “The moment I get home, honeybee, I’ll make arrangements to bring your mother to visit you. It’ll take awhile longer to get here next time, though, since we’ll have to travel upriver.”
“I know, Papa. Mama could never abide riding horseback.” Susan brushed at her tears with a trembling hand. “Thank you for…being my papa again. I missed you so.”
He buried his face in her hair and clasped her tight. “I can’t believe I let my foolish pride come between us. It was unpardonable. I shall never forgive myself.” Finally he eased away and stood to his feet, emitting a ragged breath as he gazed down at the wasted form of his once-healthy child. “I love you, my darling daughter,” he mumbled hoarsely and rushed from the room.
Lily barely got out of his way as he stumbled toward the front door, his fists rubbing his eyes. Running after him, she nearly collided with him when he stopped short.
He swiveled on his heel, his eyes red and puffy. “I loathe having to leave my darling girl here. It’s not safe.” He’d expressed the sentiment several times since his arrival. “If only she could…”
Lily placed an empathetic hand on his arm. “I know, sir. If only.”
“The French are on the move down from Lake Ontario again, you know. And with a very large force.”
“Yes, so you’ve mentioned before. And if you’re aware of that, I’m certain the commanders of our northern forts are, as well. I pray they’ll be better prepared this year.”
Mr. Gilford scoffed. “They would if they’d put brave fighters like our Rogers’ Rangers in charge. But no—the king sends us cowards from England to lead our men. What a waste.” His eyes narrowed. “John Waldon should never have abandoned my daughter here to face this danger alone. That mortician’s whelp has no business—”
Lily squeezed his arm and frowned. “Please sir, do lower your voice.”
He glanced toward Susan’s room and drew a futile breath.
“Mr. Gilford, when John’s militia was called to service, Susan was suffering only from swollen joints. And though he desperately wants to be here now, you know he would be charged with desertion were he to leave his post.”
“Yes. Well. We’ll see about that. The man should be here. His superior is Captain Busse, I believe you said. Rest assured, I’ll be paying Governor Denny a visit as soon as I reach Philadelphia. I am not without influence, I assure you.”
“In that case, I shall pray for your success. All of us would appreciate having John home where he belongs. Susan needs him now, most desperately.”
His pale brows flattened as his demeanor eased, and he touched the side of her face, bringing to Lily’s mind the remembrance of John’s parting touch. “You are an incredibly brave lass, Lily Harwood. My daughter cannot say enough good things about you. I’d like to thank you personally for taking such wonderful care of my Susan and the children.” He paused. “Speaking of the children…” Turning, he opened the door and strode outside.
A few yards beyond the porch, the youngsters stood waiting with Dr. Shelby and the frontiersmen. The three men sat astride their mounts. Mr. Gilford approached the group but spoke to his grandchildren. “Dear ones, my offer still stands. Any of you who would like to come with me and see where we live, I’d be more than happy to take you along. Emma?” He moved closer to the little girl. “Your Grandmother Gilford would dearly love to meet you, to see how much you look like your mama did when she was your age.”
Emma shyly met his gaze. “I thought you said you were going to bring her here.”
“That’s true. I did say that.”
“Then thank you, Grampa, but I can see her then. My mama needs me here.”
“Wait!” Davy shoved between his sister and the older man. “I changed my mind. I want to go to Phila—Phila—def. I’m a good rider, you’ll see. I won’t fall off. I wanna go.” Excitement laced his expression. “But I hafta be back for supper. Lily’s makin’ apple pandowdy just for me.”
Mr. Gilford knelt down before the child. “I’m afraid you’d have to skip supper if you came with us, Davy. It takes three days to get to Philadelphia on horseback.”
“Nights, too?” He took a step back. “I guess I shouldn’t go so far. Mama and Lily’d miss me too much.”
“Yes, lad.” His grandfather sighed. “I suppose they would.” He turned to the older boys and extended a hand to them in a firm grasp. “You’re the men of the house while your father is away. I’m counting on you to take care of my dear ones.” Then, looking back at Lily with a sad wag of his head, he mounted his horse, and the group rode away.
The wall clock in Captain Busse’s office ticked off seconds as the man sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled over his stomach. “Look here, Waldon. If I were to allow everyone leave who says he has someone who needs him at home, there wouldn’t be a—” Waving a hand uselessly in the air, he shook his head. “You know what I mean.”
John tipped his head, hoping. “But sir, Bob Randall and Pat MacBride can verify what I’m saying. My wife is failing fast. I fear she won’t be with us much longer.” It galled him to have to beg for something that, under normal circumstances, would be a given. But he had to try.
“Might I remind you that you told me your wife was ailing over a year ago, and she hasn’t passed on yet.”
Rage boiled up inside John. The man was not only devoid of sensitivity, he was inferring John was a liar.
At John’s stony silence, Busse came to his feet behind his desk. “I apologize, Corporal Waldon. That was a horrible thing to say. Truth is, since I was ordered to send half our men north to Fort Augusta, I simply can’t spare a man. The folks in the settlements south of here are depending on us—including your own family.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry. I can’t give you leave.”
A knock sounded on the office door.
“Come in.” Busse hiked his chin at John. “That’ll be all.”
The orderly saluted the commander as he passed John in the doorway. “Governor Denny just rode in with a party of men, sir.”
“Reinforcements?” The leader’s tone held an optimistic note.
John felt renewed hope himself. Maybe he’d be given leave yet.
“Sorry, sir. Merely an escort.”
Despite his disappointment, John couldn’t help feeling impressed that the governor himself had come here. Had the war ended? Had he come all the way from Philadelphia to announce it personally?
Glancing out the headquarters’ door John spotted a distinguished-looking man who must be the governor out on the porch, facing rapidly gathering militiamen. Obviously they, too, knew there had to be an important reason for someone in such a high position to visit this remote fort.
“Men.” The gentleman in his fine attire raised a hand for order. “First of all, I wish to thank each and every one of you for your service. If not for your sacrifice, we, the citizens of Pennsylvania, would not be able to rest at night. Therefore it is vital that when your year is up, you re-enlist.”
Groans of outrage came from every quarter as the enlisted men swapped dark glowers.
Flicking travel dust from his frock coat, the governor shifted his stance. “Men, our very colony is at stake. I entreat you to write to your friends and neighbors. Ask them to come and join you in this fight.”
A shout came from the ranks. “What friends? What neighbors? Every settler that can be spared’s already here.”
Governor Denny gave a grave nod. “Then we must dig deeper. Sacrifice more to save our colony. The situation is quite dire. Last year the burning and pillaging came within thirty miles of Philadelphia.”
“Then how about you give this speech to all them city fellas sleepin’ safe an’ sound in Philadelphia?” came from the back of the gathering. “We ain’t seen hide nor hair of none of them hereabouts.”
Bob Randall chimed in from the side. “And while you’re at it, send back our men who got sent up to Fort Augusta. We’re spread thinner than skimmed milk here. And we got a lot a territory that needs coverin’ betwixt us an’ the other forts.”
“Hear! Hear!” shouted others in chorus.
The governor raised his hand for silence. “Again, I thank you all. I shall speak to you more formally once I’ve had a chance to confer with your commander.” With that, he heeled around and headed for the doorway John occupied.
John quickly stepped aside, glad the men had spoken their minds. He joined Bob as the crowd began to disperse. “In November, when my enlistment is up, it’ll take a whole lot more to get me to sign up again than some glad-hander showing up with lots of words, but without a single company of reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements!” Behind Bob, militiaman Fred Stuart snorted. “I overheard one of the governor’s escorts admit that even New York Indian Agent William Johnson can’t rally his Mohawks to fight for us anymore—and you know how they love bloodying those tomahawks of theirs.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” Bob huffed. “I heard they think of him as one of their war chiefs. Isn’t Johnson married to one of their Indian princesses?”
“I say we all just walk on outta here right now,” Stuart muttered. “Go collect our families and traipse on down to Philadelphia and sit down on our behinds, like them fine city folks are doin’.”
Bob sniffed in disdain. “If we did that, the Frenchies would move in and burn up everything we spent all this time breakin’ our backs over.”
John nodded in sad agreement. “We hoped to give our children a future they’d never have if we hadn’t come out here.” He sighed. “Being away from my family for months on end, it’s hard sometimes to remember why I’m here.” He turned to Bob. “Busse turned down my request for leave. Again.”
His friend clapped him on the shoulder with a commiserating wince. “Sorry. I figured he would.”
“But…Susan’s dying, Bob. I can feel it right here.” He pressed a fist to his chest. “She’s dying, and I’m not there. Duty or no duty, I’d never be able to live with myself if I couldn’t be with her at…the end.” He all but choked on the last word.