Periwinkle shadows lengthened in the golden afternoon light slanting across the yard at White’s Tavern. Zeke stood with his team on the porch waiting. Mose had placed announcements seeking families for their wagon train all over Kemp’s Landing. If Isaac was right, they could expect a fair turnout. Several families huddled together looking at the others with expectancy and hope. Smiles broke out between them anytime they spoke to each other. A little boy barely out of leading strings, a tuft of blond ringlets crowding his eyes, spun on one foot kicking up an eddy of dust his sisters flapped out of their skirts. Zeke grinned even as arguments surfaced again in his mind.
Isaac was right, the more people making the journey the stronger they would be, but they would only be as strong as the weakest link. These men with their small children were farmers, not warriors. Zeke sent a prayer asking for wisdom—how could they shepherd such a group?
Across the yard Aggie arrived and just behind her a woman that stopped Zeke’s thoughts. Half a head shorter than Aggie, the woman glided behind Aggie who appeared to clump along in comparison. Quietly she took in all around her while her bonnet kept her face from his view. Aggie looped her arm through the mystery woman’s arm and made a direct course for the porch. Zeke ran fingers through his hair and replaced his hat.
“Captain, I’d like to introduce ye to Beti Sigridsdatter.” She glanced toward her friend. “Did I say it right?”
The woman’s bonnet bounced with her agreement.
Isaac hopped off the porch. The woman jumped back as though startled by his quick move. Aggie placed a reassuring hand on the woman’s arm. Isaac removed his hat. She raised her face to greet Isaac, and Zeke stood mesmerized by the clear blue-green of her eyes. When she raised her lips in a warm smile, his heart took to beating a call to arms. Before he could wake himself to say something coherent, Isaac was back on the porch and the woman had drifted away with Aggie into the crowd.
* * *
So those were the men Aggie had served with. Aggie had not said much, just that her husband had served as rifleman in the same regiment. Beti hadn’t pressed into memories that were clearly painful. To see all of them at once was quite staggering. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen four such men together all at once in her life. Each of them was tall with broad shoulders. Surely those shoulders could carry any trials they might face. Their strength was evident in the confident way they stood waiting for the crowd to assemble.
“Naming ye for some holy place don’t save ye from the deeds yer father done.” The sharp voice of the Vicar’s wife echoed in her mind as Beti crossed back into the tavern yard behind her new friend Aggie Thornton. Perhaps it was a little too early to call each other friend, but this was the closest she’d ever come to having a friend close to her own age. What would Aggie think if she knew that Beti was the only daughter of a notorious pirate? Aggie who’d risked her life to follow her husband to the Continental Army?
Beti pushed the thought away. No one knew her here, and they never would. She took another glance around the yard. The men weren’t here. This was the most exposed she’d allowed herself to be in the week since she encountered them at Morgan’s. She’d like to think they’d left town, but she had no way of knowing.
“May I have yer attention?” Captain Isaac Taylor, as he’d introduced himself, stood in front of the other men. Beti understood he had been the captain of their regiment. There was a stillness about him that spoke of a man used to authority. The others stood at rest, watching their leader. Except one. He was watching her, tall and as broad shouldered as his captain. A smile lingered in his countenance. Like the others he was dressed in a hunting shirt of worn tan. His breeches were of the same leather. They each possessed a long rifle. Unlike the others, a tomahawk hung from his belt. Beti took a casual glance around then turned her eyes back to the porch. The man’s gaze was trained on his captain.
“Our purpose tonight is to announce our plans to travel across Daniel Boone’s new road to Kentucky.”
A stocky little man with dark hair and a cleric’s collar said in a surprisingly loud voice, “We know that son. That is why we are here.”
A deep chuckle sounded way too close for comfort at the outburst.
The men from Morgan’s store were here.
“My name is Isaac Taylor. I am the leader of this expedition. With me is Hezekiah Smith.” So that was his name. Mr. Smith focused his gaze on her again. “Gordon Sharpe.” The shortest of the four nodded a bow. “And Moses Woodbridge.” The youngest swooped a bow flourishing his hat. “We have lately served with the 11th Virginia. We offer such security as we may against Tory and Indian perils.”
“That Daniel Morgan’s regiment?” the older man demanded.
“Yessir.”
“My name is Claiborne Edwards. I am traveling with my niece. I presume ye are prepared to accommodate women?”
Captain Taylor cast a glance toward Aggie. “Yessir, we are removing our families to Kentucky. We anticipate a few women will make up the party.”
A round of folks introducing themselves broke out. A Mr. Robert Stamps and his wife and sons, Mr. Tunstall Curd and his wife and children, Mr. Nathanial Baldwin and his wife and a child on the way. Beti lost track of the next families as she watched the men from Morgan’s move around the outside of the crowd. They took up a spot on the very outside of the porch.
What difference does it make? They don’t know me, and I don’t know them. When she forced her eyes back to Captain Taylor, Mr. Smith was watching her again. Did he know the strangers?
“I am Agatha Thornton. My husband Tom served in the 11th Virginia. I am going to Kentucky.”
Murmurs riffled through the crowd. Beti stiffened her back and lifted her chin.
“Ye gonna allow unescorted women on this trip?”
“Mrs. Thornton traveled every campaign with us, Mr. Edwards. If she chooses to go with us she may. As far as I have been able to ascertain this is a free land. If Mrs. Thornton’s friend choses to go with us, and can carry her weight, she is free to come along as well.”
Captain Taylor’s words paused the conversation for a fraction of a heartbeat. Beti’s heart drummed into the silence. Strictly speaking she could go by herself. Not that it was her preferred route. No, she was removing to Kentucky to have community and people in her life, not the opposite. If she wanted to live alone, she could have stayed in North Carolina. Beti scanned the crowd. Apparently, Captain Taylor’s words had carried the argument.
Mr. Edwards folded his arms across his chest. “What route ye planning to take?”
“Given the recent activity of armies in the area, we will take the southern route along the North Carolina border to Abingdon.”
“Can Boone’s road take a wagon?” Mr. Curd hollered out.
“I’ve had it from a friend of mine that the road can take a wagon. He cannot say that the wagon will have no trouble crossing the mountains, but he assures me a wagon is possible.”
“How reliable is this friend?” asked Mr. Stamps.
“As reliable as a man can be who has traveled the road.”
This seemed to appease the men. The looters slipped into the tavern. They didn’t recognize her. Relief eased across Beti’s shoulders. She wasn’t sure she liked Mr. Edwards very much, but he’d asked the questions she needed answered while she did her best to stay hidden. Yes, there would be women along. She and Aggie were traveling alone, but there were enough wives present that her virtue would remain unblemished. And she could bring her new wagon. When the time was right, a freighter would be able to bring her loom across the mountains to Kentucky. God was answering all her prayers.
The meeting ended only after everyone had a chance to ask whatever questions they wished. Then they mobbed Captain Taylor. Beti lost sight of Aggie in the crowd. She signed her name to a sheet of paper of those interested in traveling with the party.
Crisp moonlight glittered off shiny bits of sand in the tavern’s yard. Ever since the day of her father’s funeral and the white blur in the woods she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. Despite constant vigilance she had not discovered anyone. Her focus remained to her left and right as she skirted the people who would soon be her companions. She probably should stop and meet them, but the men from Morgan’s remained inside the tavern. There would be time enough on the road to make friends. Right now she should seek the safety of Miss Polly’s. So consumed was she with her thoughts that she forgot to gauge the path directly in front of her feet. She sailed right into the dock of a very tall man.
“I am so sorry.” She gazed up into the eyes of Mr. Hezekiah Smith. Her mouth dried up like hardtack.
His hands remained on her shoulders perhaps just a fraction or two longer than was strictly necessary for her to regain her footing.
“It is quite all right, miss.”
Beti stepped back and surveyed the side of the tavern yard. He had the reins of three horses.
“What are ye doing?”
“Moving these horses.” Bright moonlight caught the twinkle in his eye.
“Are they yorn?”
He shook his head.
Beti puzzled at the man, bewilderment over coming every thought. “Why?”
He gazed down. “Because it is funny.”
Laughter erupted before she could stop it. She’d never heard of anyone doing anything for that reason alone. The look on his face added to her mirth.
“Are ye Mr. Smith?”
He bowed. “At yer service Miss Sigridsdatter.”
So he had been listening. A twang of regret shimmied through her. She would like for him to know her real name, but that was not possible.
“Mrs. Thornton tells me ye make the best wagons in all Virginia.”
“She exaggerates. I make the best small boats in Virginia.”
Another laugh escaped her at the sheepish grin he bestowed with his boast. “But ye do make wagons.”
“Yes.”
“Then I shall come and get one.”
The mischievous twinkle she’d admired disappeared behind a thin-lipped mask. “Ye were serious about traveling alone?”
“Why else would I be here?”
“I thought perhaps ye changed yer mind when ye heard the details of the trip.” Concern radiated from him, and she felt it was genuine.
“On the contrary. I was reassured that I made the right choice for my future life.”
“Ye really shouldn’t go alone.”
“I am not going alone, Mr. Smith. I am traveling in a group of families all removing themselves to a new frontier.”
“It is not safe for a single woman to travel in the wilderness. Have ye no male family or companion?”
Around them the crowd began to disperse.
Beti’s back stiffened. “It is not for ye to decide my life for me, Mr. Smith.”
A smile softened his lips, but the concern didn’t leave his eyes. “There now, ye’ve ruined my jest. Ye owe me one, Miss Sigridsdatter.”
Confusion blew through her. Was that a flirt? The teasing look in his eyes made her think it might be, but she’d never flirted in the whole of her life. Her cheeks heated before she could cool them with reason.
“Nonsense.” Captain Taylor replied as he came up beside her to retrieve the reins from Mr. Smith. “Miss Sigridsdatter, ye’ve done us a service. We are in ye debt.”
Her spirits lifted at once.
“Now who speaks nonsense, Captain Taylor?” Beti answered. “I shall bid ye all good evening. Mr. Smith, I hope to see ye in the morning.”
Beti basked in a light breeze of hope as she spun on her heel. What an extraordinary evening. Could it be possible the Lord was answering her prayers? Was she to have friends? Real friends? Smiles greeted her as she moved down the street. Excited chatter filled the air. The glow in her heart lit her way back to Miss Polly’s.
Aggie caught up to her just as she reached the steps.
“I must have lost ye in the mob.” Aggie grinned. “Did ye find out all ye need to know?”
“Aye. Tomorrow I shall go to Mr. Smith’s and procure a wagon for the journey.”
* * *
Zeke watched Beti’s graceful departure. She nodded to one family with a smile. Her progress was slow down the street filled with excited people and their conversations. Within him grew a yearning and a wanting like he hadn’t experienced since he was an apprentice with a wooden planer struggling to make his pieces worthy for a boat. Her shy smile ignited a forgotten joy in a deep recess of his heart. Not even the frustration he’d caused his friends made him feel as good as the shy curving of those lips.
Zeke leaned on his wagon to watch her graceful retreating form. The pain in his leg punctured through the vision forming of Miss Sigridsdatter. Nope. He’d do better to keep his eyes focused on his mother and sister. He was in no shape to provide for another woman, much less protect one. His family had no choice. They’d get along together despite his lame leg. No woman would choose a lame man when she could have any man she wanted. And a woman like Miss Sigridsdatter definitely had a choice.
“She’s a beauty.” Mose drew up next to him.
“Yes.” Zeke agreed. She’d made it to end of the street now. A pair of well-dressed men stepped into the crowd a wagon’s length from Miss Sigridsdatter. The older man was broad and battle-hardened. Zeke would bet he could wield an ax as well as a fork. The other didn’t look much older than Isaac. While the first was broad the second was narrow and pointy all over like an arrow. They signaled to each other then parted. Threading nimbly through the outskirts of the crowd they followed her down the street. At least it looked like they were following her, he couldn’t be certain because there were a lot of people walking down Main Street. She paused to speak to someone in passing. The men slowed their pace. One of them passed her by a few steps.
“Ye going to court her?”
Is that who they were? Men who wanted to court her? Of course, men would be interested in her.. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Perhaps they already knew her. No. If they already knew her, they would likely not remain so distant.
“I just met her. Ye just met her.” He flashed a look at Mose, but not long enough to lose sight of the strange men he was sure now were following Miss Sigridsdatter.
“How’my gonna know her better if I never spark at all?”
Irritation itched at Mose’s ready smile, but Zeke said. “Suit yeself.” And tried to mean it.
“She was smiling at ye.”
Yes, and he was likely to remember it for the rest of his days. “I was talking to her.”
“Ye think she’d smile at me?”
If Zeke hit him just right he’d stop talking. Maybe not talk for a week. “She’s a nice girl, Mose.”
“I could see that.”
What if she didn’t know them? Zeke handed Mose his reins and walked away. He couldn’t run. His damaged knee kept him from that, but he managed a steady clip until he saw her turn off Main. The first man, the young one who’d outpaced her had reached his companion. Zeke caught up with them just as they attained the intersection.
“May I help ye gentleman find something?”
Both men turned from her to face him. They were big, not as tall as him but the older man was broad and worn strong like the drawing of a berserker he’d seen once. He wouldn’t want to take on the two of them at once. The younger one took a short step closer, blue eyes fierce. Lips cracked an unfriendly smile. Zeke eased when Miss Sigridsdatter turned right and drifted out of sight without these two seeing which way she went.
Copper nuzzled his shoulder. Zeke turned to find Mose standing behind him with both horses.
“Why don’t ye mind ye own business, friend.” The softspoken threat didn’t sound English.
Alarm bells shrieked in his mind, and a fierce protectiveness surged forward. It didn’t matter what these men wanted with her. Zeke would see to it they wouldn’t get it.
“Well now. I wouldn’t want visitors to our town to get lost. Would we Mose?” Zeke turned to include his friend.
Moses’ usual friendly smile didn’t appear. “Nossir. We certainly wouldn’t want anyone to be lost in our town.”
“We are not lost,” the young man snapped.
“I saw ye come out of the tavern and head this way, I assumed ye were lost, there are no boarding houses or taverns down this way. Yep. Far as I could tell, ye had no reason to be headed to this part of town, friend.” He looked the speaker in the eye and calmly waited.
The younger man glanced at his companion.
The older man shrugged. “Just out for a stroll after a fine meal in yer tavern. Just a friendly stroll is all.” He drew the s’s out like a snake.
The two men stepped around Zeke and Mose and headed back toward the tavern. Zeke took Copper’s reins from Mose as they watched the men retreating into the thinning crowd.
“Who was that?”
“Ye know as much as me.”
“Were they following her?”
Mose said “her” like only one woman could be referred to by that pronoun. Zeke needed to go home before he thought Mose was right.