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LIKE BEFORE, THE SHIVERING lasted a bone-jarring hour. The fever then snarled into her. She writhed and cried against the heat. Waves of fire beat against Thomas’ hands.
Issy and Sarah found rags. They boiled water and made teas. They sat with Elizabeth while Thomas hauled cold water from the creek. Then, William and Mac found out about their help. Both women put up a good fight, but Thomas sent them away. He especially had nae wish to come between Sarah and Mac.
Despite his efforts, the fever climbed higher and higher, as did his panic. The first round he had nursed her through in the cabin had been bad.
This was worse.
He needed his mother, and he knew better than to ask William or Mac to go for her.
He could nae verra well go himself.
He stripped the lass once again of everything but her chemise. He pulled the rood from her person and pushed it into her bag. He wanted to answer nae questions about it from his maither, and certainly none from Mac.
He wound Elizabeth tight in the red quilt and lifted her against his chest. He stepped into a cool mid-morning so bright and cheery his gut ached. He reached the path to the creek. Fingal jaunted down the rise and disappeared into the underbrush. Behind them, William called his name.
Thomas stopped, although why he knew not.
William pulled alongside him. His gaze fell onto the lass’ face. “I am not trying to be cruel, Thomas. ‘Tis just . . . I canna have the authorities bearing down upon us for helping a Neutral. Mama spends so much time with them already.”
“Mama has never turned someone away from her care.”
“I know.” He sighed. “But if this lass is found here, the constable and others may nae be so generous in overlooking the things Mama does for them.”
“I will leave the minute this cycle is done. Ye have my word.” He faced the path.
“Thomas? Why did ye come back?”
Elizabeth stirred.
“Ye are a wanted man. Yet ye are here and not hidden somewhere, and ye bring this woman along of ye.”
Thomas had nae wish to trace the thread of complications he had knotted and unknotted since finding Elizabeth at the farm. “I dinna wish to bring trouble to any of ye. Ask Mac. I was unaware of the hatred being leveled against the Neutrals.” Although he should have easily guessed. “I merely wished to see that ye were all safe.”
“Safe from what?”
He started forward. “Just safe, William. Leave it at that.”
“And why will she nae go back to her ain people?”
“She will not say.” He started down the rise.
Unfortunately, the man came along of him. “Do you no wonder?”
Thomas picked up his pace. At the farm, he had not cared. And once here, he had been too busy.
But now?
Now her fear and refusal gnawed at him like a pack of wild dogs after a fresh kill.
“I am sorry I was rough on ye yesterday, Thomas. ‘Twas a shock to see ye, and I have so many questions.”
“And I will nae be giving ye answers.”
William grabbed his arm. “Not even in regards to what happened during the raid?”
Thomas ground to a halt. Elizabeth’s heat burned his hands.
“’Tis just, well, I have a hard time believing ye have turned that cruel. And as your brother, and since there is a price on your head, I have a right to know what happened.”
“Nae, ye do no. Now excuse me, for the lass burns as we speak.”
He rushed forward. Thank goodness, the man dinna follow.
A half-hour later, thanks to the cool water which iced them both, the lass cooled. Thomas, with Elizabeth in his arms, walked out of the creek. Fingal followed. The dog shook the water from his fur. Thomas shivered in the mid-morning wind.
He wrapped the quilt back around Elizabeth, then lifted her upward. He started up the path. His shoulder hurt like fire. His own fatigue had drained the last of his strength. Halfway up someone called to him. He lifted his gaze to the top of the rise.
Arms waved. Red hair flashed in the morning light.
His maither.
He very nearly cried like a baby.
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THOMAS POURED OUT THE whole tale to her.
How he had found the lass at Fearnought Farms. Of the death and burial of her brother. Of her fear of the Fottrell House and his promise to find her a place to stay and work while she waited for her father to come from Fort Oswego. He finished with William and Mac’s anger and insistence she could nae stay.
His mother squeezed water from a rag. “I recognize her. She was acting as a spokesperson for the others.”
“Do ye know why she left? Any idea what she fears?”
Colina pressed the cool rag to the lass’ forehead. “I am sorry, but I dinna know, Thomas. There is talk among the Neutrals of a brother and sister who ran away.” She lifted a sad gaze to him. “Surely, ‘tis her, and ye will have a hard time finding her work. Nae one wishes to help them. After all, they are French and Catholic.”
His gut squeezed tight. “This afternoon, after this cycle is done, I will take her to the edge of the camps and we will lose ourselves there until she is well and I have found her a place.”
Colina’s head shot upward.
“If she is found here, ‘twill bring much trouble to ye all.”
“Does anyone know she is here?” Colina asked.
“I think not. No one has come. No one has gone.”
“Then I think ‘tis fine if ye both stay for a few days.”
“William will never agree.”
“I will speak with him.” She pursed her lips. She was measuring her words. He was not going to like this. “It would help, though, if you tried to understand your brother.”
“Understand him?” He threw the rag into the bowl. Water splashed out the sides and flooded the dirt beneath his feet. “He has as much as said he dinna wish me to come home.” Although based on their conversation on the path earlier, that ‘twas not quite true.
“Ye left to grieve, Thomas, and William kept us together. Mac was nae help the first few months. ‘Twas not just Sarah that pulled him from near madness, ‘twas William, too.”
The guilt pricked Thomas.
“None of the other traders brought in near the profits that you did. And when we could trade no longer because of the war? ‘Twas all William could do to keep food on the table and clothes on our back.”
More guilt. But this time, instead of pushing it away, he let it sit there.
“Now, we have been forced here.” She sighed. “’Tis the first time in years we have had to flee. Who knows what we will face when we return? ‘Tis late to put in crops. The tobacco has nae been planted.” She pulled back. “And he verra much loves Hannah and Alex is giving him all kinds of trouble with this marriage.”
Thomas sighed. “And I am to blame.”
“For some of it, not all. Ye could have come home earlier. But ye canna control the fear Alex has for his last daughter. Ye canna stop the war.” She grabbed his hand. “But I will speak with your brother about the lass, and things between ye will get better when he understands ye are home for good this time.”
His back shivered cold.
But I am not staying.
“Mama, there is a price on my head. Surely, ye know.”
“I have grieved myself near sick while wearing my knees out in prayer that ye would return to me. I am nae about to let ye leave again.”
He pulled his hand free. He had never been good at lying to her. He could nae expect to change now.
She lay a rag across Elizabeth’s forehead. With another, she swathed the lass’ arm.
Wet lashes fluttered open. “How . . . long . . . heat.”
“Ye mind not the time,” Colina crooned. “Everyone is different.”
A moan spiraled from her chest. “Father Bergier? I really . . . I need to . . .”
“Shush, Lass. Fash yerself not over such things.”
She cried against a headache. They forced sips of water down her, but she heaved it up, along with last night’s broth.
‘Twas well past noon before the fever eased and the sweating started. He and Colina would pull the wetness from one part of her, move to another, only to be back at the other within minutes. Pater Nosters, Our Fathers, and Aves, Hail Marys, fell in whispers from the lass’ lips. His maither joined in the prayers.
By late afternoon, Thomas’ shoulder burned and his head swam with the need for sleep. The sun, marching toward the ground, sideswiped the tent from the west. The rags, finally, became less and less damp, but now the lass lay as still as death.
Colina tossed the rag into the water. She rubbed the back of her hand across her own wet forehead. Her shoulders hunched forward. “She is seasoning hard and long.”
He knew that. ‘Twas as if some unseen force was determined to tear the lass apart body and soul.
His chest tightened. “But she is strong? She will pass through?”
Nothing.
His heart cracked.
He shot his hand across Elizabeth and grabbed his maither’s wrist. “Mama?”
“She sleeps for now.” She rolled her hand over and wrapped her fingers around his. She lifted her face. “But in the morning, you should go speak with Father Bergier. Ask him if he knows why she will nae go back to her people, and also request he come here so the lass can make a proper confession before the next cycle begins.”
His chest quaked. She need not say the rest.
That the next cycle may well be her last.
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THE SOUPY FOG WET THOMAS’ skin and set his lungs to quivering.
He had thought the cough was gone.
Issy stood before him.
“Can I go with ye, Thomas?”
Thomas wanted to say no. He had nae wish to hear the child’s prattling all the way to town.
Colina twirled the girl around. She glanced at the large tent behind Thomas, then lowered her gaze back to the child. “Nae, daughter, ye canna go.” Her eyes again lifted to the tent.
Was something wrong?
“But I want to show Addy and Emily the new dolls I made. They are made with scraps from their ain clothing.” She twisted around to Thomas. She bounced her head like a bobber at the mercy of an overly large fish. “I make dolls and sell them.” More bobbing. “One of these days I am going to open my own shop and live in the city.”
“Well, ye will no go this morning, Issy,” their maither said. “You will wait until noon as planned.”
“Addy and Emily will not care if I am early.”
“Their parents might. There are chickens that have not yet arisen for the day.”
“I can wait outside their house.”
“No, Issy.” She was losing her patience. “Ye will wait for William to take ye this afternoon as planned.”
A crash, like a crate smashing, cracked the air in the tent behind Thomas. Colina’s eyes widened. Thomas swiveled his head around, but as the flaps were closed, probably against the fog, he could see nothing.
“Get yourself to the tent, Daughter. There is work to do.”
And what work was there? For some reason, no food smells drifted with the fog. None of the men could be seen anywhere.
Issy dropped her head to her chin and turned.
Colina grabbed Thomas’ elbow and steered him toward the road. “Go to Father Bergier and bring him.”
In the tent, Thomas heard voices. He pulled his arm free. He turned around.
“Thomas,” his maither pleaded.
He picked up his pace. He yanked the flap back.
His mouth fell open. Chairs had been torn apart. Manure and dirt had been spread atop the rugs. Wooden boxes and crates lay upended. Personal and household contents were strewn to the four corners of the tent. Cornmeal, flour, and sugar smothered the ground in heaps and swirls.
At least the fireplace at the far right side, a remnant of the cabin that once stood on the place, was intact and the canvas sweeping from halfway up the stones not harmed.
Mac stepped through the open back entrance. “Dogs are gone. Nary a trace of them anywhere.”
William lifted his head. “Again?”
Thomas’ head swiveled from one man to the next. “You have lost dogs before?”
Both men turned to him for the first time. Their faces darkened further.
“We lost some last week,” Mac said.
Ach! Good dogs were hard to find. Instilling loyalty was even harder. Still, they usually would alert to strangers. He nodded at Mac. “Are there footprints outside? Anything that might help determine who did this?”
“Nothing. Just like before.”
“Before?” he cried.
“Aye.” William stretched his neck. “Chickens stolen. Bessie has been taken into the woods twice without her bell. The fencing has been torn down.” He righted one of the long table benches and sat to it. Heavy wrinkles weighed down the man’s eye. His jaw was so tight, Thomas thought it might crack like old pottery.
Mac looked little better.
“Is this happening in the refugee camps?” Thomas asked.
“They are camps,” William said. “Things go missing. Food. Valuables.”
“But no,” Mac said. “Not destruction for the sake of destruction.”
Thomas’ skin crawled.
They were being targeted. He forced the words through his teeth. “Who do ye suspect?” He braced himself for the answer.
William jerked to his feet. He turned in a circle. “Ruffians. Misguided townsfolk. I dinna know.” He kicked one box, then righted another.
Was it as William thought? Or was it Iron Gun’s warriors?
Or, God forbid, Red Bear?
If so, why wage a slow war and to what end? To create edginess which bred fear? To simply play with his family until Thomas came?
His gut tightened. If only they would allow Elizabeth to stay a few days. He could offer another pair of hands and, with a little time, perhaps determine who was responsible.
He could ease his ain mind before leaving.
Maybe.
“Ye need to let me stay.”
William turned on him. “Not if she stays, too.”
“Fine.” Thomas lifted his palms upward. “Then I go to get the priest for her. We will retire to the edge of the refugee camps this afternoon. Ye can come get me if ye need me.”
“So ye would choose her over us.”
“Ye forced my hand by asking me to forget a promise.”
“Ach! Ye are a stubborn man.”
“I am nae the only one.” They were, after all, both sons of Dougald McQueen.
Twas why William should understand about the promise.
“She will only be here a few days. If she is nae spoken of to anyone, then what harm can come of her staying here?”
“Ye go even now to get Father Bergier,” he cried.
Colina looked up from her sweeping. “Father will nae speak of her, William, and he comes often to see me. Nae one will be suspicious.”
“William,” Mac said. “We have little choice.”
“Ye would take his side?”
“There are no sides here, and we do need an extra pair of hands.”
Thomas’ spine tightened. “I will take full responsibility for her. If there are any fines I will pay them. If there is a forced removal, I will take her elsewhere.” If there was an imprisonment, as long as she was free of the Fottrell House, he would go in her place.
William and Mac exchanged long, dark glares.
“In the meantime, ye need me.” More than you know.
“Fine.” William spat. “Just be sure she is gone as soon as she has her wits. I go to build up the fire. ‘Twill take us all day just to burn what is damaged and beyond use.” He slung the flap backward and stomped outside.
Mac foisted a black glare at Thomas. “I agreed you should stay because it makes the most sense.” He eased to his side. “Nonetheless, ‘tis a dangerous game ye play with her and us.”
If you only knew.
The man stomped past him and outside.
Thomas eyed the room. “I should stay this morning and help.”
“Nae.” Colina lay gentle fingers to his tattered shirt. “Ye need new clothes, for I have not the time to repair these nor make new ones.” She squeezed his arm. “And ye must bring Father Bergier or he will leave for Doughoregan Manor. He will nae be back for another month.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Even then, all this arguing you boys are doing over a spindly, fragile lass may well be for naught.”