Sunlight was quickly waning into soft shadows when they reached Bell’s Tavern. The squat building was in no way impressive. It consisted of a log cabin that had been added on to over the years. The additions were a bit irregular and made from whatever materials must have been on hand. The effect was of an unsteady lean-to. Steady smoke streamed from its chimney. A stout man came out. The door slapped closed behind him proving the dwelling was sturdier than it appeared. Nonetheless, Beti was thankful she would not need shelter under its sloping roof. She would bed down in her new wagon.
She was profoundly grateful that the tavern keeper was willing to house her flock in the fenced paddock behind the stable for a couple of shillings. After her first day, she’d no desire to sleep with the sheep, although she could task Toby with that job.
The wagon train surrounding the tavern gave the appearance of a small city come to visit. Children ran and laughed. Fires were laid, and soon the clanging of pots filled the air. Having put her sheep up for the night she and Nellie made their way back to their temporary home.
She chanced a glance back to Zeke’s wagon to find empty traces and the man gone.
“That’ll do Nellie.” The dog lay down under the shade of the transom. Beti sent a thankful prayer to heaven for her own empty traces and the sight of Toby nursing a small fire. She placed Nellie’s feed bowl down with another for water.
“Do ye cook, Toby?”
“Aye, but it’s plain fare.”
“Shall I bargain with ye then? Ye make the fire, and bring the water. I’ll cook.”
“I work for ye, Miss Beti, ye have no need to bargain with me.”
“Aye. But I should like to thank ye anyway for taking the risk.”
He smiled. “I have no objection to the cooking of a woman. Any woman has to cook better than my plate of beans.”
Toby walked off and returned with a bucket of water.
Beti pulled out her pot and set to making a stew and biscuits. It was simple fare to be sure, but it would do for as tired as she was. While their meal cooked, Toby drifted off to “meet the folks.”
Beti stayed, satisfied to rest in the back of her wagon and listen to the shouts of the children and the general murmuring of this new extended group of friends. Embarrassment flamed through her. They weren’t her friends. Not really. She had not even met half of them. Oh, most of them had been nice to her so far, but they didn’t know who she was, not really. She regretted anew her hasty decision to use her mother’s name.
She fingered the woven bracelet made of her mother’s hair. Mama’s hair had been a unique shade of brown that can only come when it is mixed with a heavy dose of blonde. In fact Beti was inclined to call it a very dark blonde. Beti raised her wrist to her nose. The smell of Mama was surely gone, but the act always brought Mama back in stark memories. Her laughter, her gentle eyes, yes, even her smell. Regret tugged at her heart. She wished she’d asked more about the past. Why had Mama left her kingdom? Why had she not talked about it? Why had Papa not talked about it? Why had he skirted her questions when she’d asked him?
Beti had always assumed it had something to do with Papa being a pirate. Papa was always reluctant to talk about his past, unless it was a short bit used to illustrate some scripture he wanted one of the treasure-seeking ne’re-do-wells to understand. Papa had worked so hard to get people to understand God’s forgiveness that Beti hadn’t the heart to bring up his past either. It was the man with the accent who came to the table. There was something in the sound of his voice that reminded her of Mama, but she couldn’t really remember Mama’s voice that clearly.
She set the pot off center of the flame and scooped a portion into her bowl. After climbing up to the transom she propped her back along the side and put her feet up. She closed her eyes and let her muscles relax.
It had not been a hard day. The much-traveled terrain held no surprises. No sharp rises or deep gulleys. It would not always be the case. Of that she was certain. She thanked the Lord for her supper and tucked in.
Whining and laughter and emphatic statements played around her. She reveled in its music. Lord willing, one day she too would have a family. Little ones who would laugh. And probably whine. And she would love them. And they would love her. And she would pray every day that she would not have to leave them for heaven as her own mother had.
The letter.
Beti reached into her pocket for the letter Miss Polly delivered just as she took her tearful leave. Rosalee. A longing for home once again pulled at her thoughts. Was she doing the right thing? The exhilaration of the voices playing around her a stark answer.
She cracked the seal.
Dearest Beti,
The lilting tones of her old nurse came off the page. She and the Doc were overjoyed to have received her letter. But she begged Beti to be careful. There were visitors.
Today two visitors came. They said they were from yer mother’s country and were looking for ye. Be very careful. Not everyone from a country is a good person. There were pirates among her folks. I cannot tell if these men are canny looters.
Yer mother told me never to tell her secret unless it was a matter of yer life and death. I have never understood this directive, but I have complied with her wishes. Now I find that I must tell ye all I know.
Yer mother, Sigrid Hakansdottir was the third child of the King of Hakaan. After yer parents were married and living in this country, an emissary from yer grandfather came with a box and message for Sigrid. His oldest children, her brothers, had died. He begged her to come home and take the throne. In the box was a crown. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Silver and white, it glistened like snow. It had been her mother’s.
Yer mother took days to make her decision. In the end she refused. Yye were such a little thing at the time. She could not bear to leave ye and yer father. Yer father preferred the freedom of the New World to the old. Sigrid agreed. There was much talk of what they would do in this new life they had created together. Oh, how her eyes would glow as she told me of their dreams. It still breaks my heart that she died so young.
Now, to the visitors. There was two of them, and I could swear if it was not forbidden, that the one that stayed in the shadows was the emissary who came all those years ago, but I could not be sure. And I never trust a man who prefers shadows. They could be treasure seekers coming after yer mother’s crown.
And now ye will ask me, I can hear ye, Beti. “Where is Mama’s crown, Rosalee?”
“I don’t know, mon tre´sor.”
I believe they put it in a safe place. Yer papa never told me where it was, and neither did yer Mama. Could this be the treasure the looters are forever looking for?
Beti read through the letter again. And once more to be sure she’d read it clearly.
Could the man with the blue eyes and familiar accent be the emissary?
A crown? Could this be what the looters were after? If so, they would continue to be disappointed. Her mother hadn’t talked much about her country or her family, certainly not about a beautiful crown that sparkled like the snow. And how would looters know of her crown unless they’d had it on the ship with them? That wasn’t likely if Rosalee had seen it.
Toby returned with a bowl to the kettle.
Beti scrunched the letter back into her pocket.
Always alert, Nellie lay prone but raised her head.
“That’ll do, Nell.” The dog rested her chin back down on front paws.
Toby scraped his bowl clean and excused himself for a dram in the ordinary. Beti hopped down. There was enough for tomorrow. She’d stowed the kettle and poured herself the last of the coffee when she heard Zeke approach the fire.
* * *
“Would ye mind?” Zeke swung the stool, which he’d made for this trip, between them.
“Help yerself.” Miss Beti slipped away from the fire.
Zeke sat and stretched out his leg next to the fire. Beti perched herself on the transom of her wagon before taking up a tin mug.
Her carefully kept hair knot had frazzled with the exertion of the day leaving wisps teased by the wind. And yet for all that she did not have the air of a weary woman. Tired, yes, but vitality still smiled through, like a child anticipating a present. She was enchanting. He found it hard to focus his gaze on the fire before him.
“How did ye fair?”
“The sheep did well. All in all, it was a good day.” She smiled. The blue-green of her eyes shown green in the fire. “And how did ye?”
“Glad I didn’t have to drive sheep.” He grinned.
She laughed, and his spirits lifted above the Cumberland Gap.
“They are not too bad.”
“When they do what ye tell them.”
“And there is not but six of them.”
Zeke let his gaze drop to the fire as he searched for something more to say. “How did ye start keeping sheep?”
“My mother kept sheep. They were hers. Especially Silas. All of them are descended from my mother’s original herd.”
“And ye make cloth?”
She withdrew from him, sitting a little straighter on her chair and drawing her hands into her lap. “Aye. Silas is a special kind of sheep.” Her eyes softened into a vulnerability as she talked about the different types of wool and what she hoped to accomplish with her little flock as it grew. She blossomed before him as she shared her plans.
Her tiny fingers drew out imaginary fiber as she described the fineness of the wool. Small hands flattened as she predicted the quality of the fabric she would create on the big loom she left back in North Carolina. How he would love to see that fabric once she’d got it made. And perhaps he would. They shouldn’t be settled too far from each other. Images of Beti at her loom with little ones at her feet brought him back to the fire.
“What about ye plans? Will ye build boats in Kentucky?” she asked.
A chuckle escaped his lips. “Would that I could but no. There’s no call for boats in Kentucky.” She drew back again, and the coldness chilled his spirit. “I plan on farming. If I can do it.”
“Why couldn’t ye do it?”
He looked down at his right leg then back up. No pity.
“So?”
“Well, there’s things I cannot do, and honestly, I’m not sure what those limits are yet.”
“There’s plenty of things folks cannot do. How do we know unless we try?”
“I cannot argue with that,” he said. Warmth replaced the recent chill, and a quiet knowing creeped into his soul. This was different than the time spent with his mother and sister. Perhaps it was the fact they were out on trail instead of sitting in an expensively appointed parlor. Whatever the reason, the restlessness he felt in town eased.
“Ye can always build wagons.”
He grinned. “True.”
“I admit I’m looking forward to my first night.”
“I’m glad it’s working for ye.”
“To be absolutely fair, I’d take just about anything over that.” She pointed a thumb toward the cabin.
“A reputable establishment like Bell’s cannot be overrated.”
She laughed, and a twinkle lit her eyes. “Well, tonight I think I could sleep on a wagon wheel.”
“Sleep well,” he offered.
“Ye too.”
* * *
Zeke was up before the sun, but it was well after eight of the clock before the ten families started rolling once again toward Norfolk. Today’s path would take them past deep swamp infested with criminals and Tories. More than one attempt had failed to clear the area of the ruffians. Zeke offered a prayer for safety and primed his rifle.
“Can ye drive the sheep behind ye wagon?” He asked Beti and pointed to the area in front of him.
“Is it not a bit early for jesting?”
“I do not jest.”
“The swamps are dangerous,” Toby muttered.
She watched Toby disappear around her wagon before looking up into his eyes. “Surely we will be safe in so large a group?”
“I would like to think that, but we cannot be too careful.”
“While I should not like to disparage my precious lambs, they are not God’s most brilliant creatures. I need them to arrive at our destination. Therefore I shall have to drive them behind yer wagon.” With a saucy grin she turned her back and headed for the tavern presumably to retrieve her sheep.
Silly woman. Didn’t she know that predators wait for stragglers? Zeke proceeded to untie the ducking from his wagon.
It took her less than ten minutes to retrieve her cargo and take her place behind him. A raised eyebrow greeted him as he watched her from his driver’s seat. She made quite a picture with her crooked staff. Beti turned her back to him to face the flock. She gave Nellie a command in a low voice he could not quite make out.
* * *
Beti stifled a grin at the sight of Zeke’s wagon naked of its duck covering. It was sweet of him really, but she couldn’t believe anything dangerous could happen to them between here and Norfolk. From what she understood it was a well-travelled road. Of course, there was always a chance that one could encounter a ruffian on any road, and yet she’d traveled from the Outer Banks all the way to Kemp’s Landing and had no trouble whatsoever. And that time she’d traveled alone. This time there were ten families traveling together. Surely no one would dare to bother such a large group.
The swamp reminded her of the woods around her home. Her heart warmed at the memories of the hours she’d spent there safe from the taunts of the village. Tall, broad pines scented the air. New green budded across winter-gray branches. Spanish moss dripped into the shadows of the wood like overly large spiderwebs ready to tangle the hair and tickle nightmarish fantasies.
None of which bothered her last night. She dreamed of snow-covered crowns and twinkling amber eyes.
Silas wandered off toward a patch of new green.
“Look back.” Nellie trotted toward the errant ram.
As the dog approached, a child toddled out of the underbrush toward Silas. Nellie barked. Beti ran swooping up the tot before Nellie could sound again.
“That was close.” She smiled at the little girl wriggling in her arms. She looked to be about three years of age. She must belong to one of the families Beti had yet to meet in the front of the wagon train. Although, she’d not seen any of the children so far clad in such a way. Dirt covered the child from the top of her curly hair to her grimy homespun dress and bare feet. Beti didn’t have much experience when it came to children, but she surmised that it wouldn’t take long for a child of this age to get fairly dirty if left alone for the time it would take for the wagon train to pass. Assuming she came from the wagon train. Beti held on to the child while scanning the woods for a parent. “Is anyone there?” Beti called into the trees.
“Down.” The girl flung herself backward and Beti nearly dropped her on her head.
“Here ye go.” Beti set the girl down on her bare feet and tried to take her by the hand. The girl promptly set off into the brush. Beti glanced back to Nellie. Silas and crew were sufficiently grouped. The girl made steady progress into the wilderness. Beti made her decision before the child had taken another step.
“Wait!”
It was ten steps past trees before she saw the child lifted into the arms of a woman as filthy as the child herself. An arm clamped around her waist and a hand fastened itself to her mouth. Panic rose in her gut as Beti flailed against her attacker. The man held strong like one of the giant trees surrounding them. The woman’s face widened into a grin. Beti’s shoe found its mark and the man who held her leaned in to breath in her ear. “I like a fighting woman.”
Cold fear spiked in her belly. She kicked him again. His hand came away from her mouth to cover her hips.
“Nell, come,” Beti said as she tried to stomp his feet.
“Keep wrigglin’, girl.”
“Stop it, Charlie.” The woman put the child down and stepped in front of Beti.
“We’ll be taking them sheep and anything else ye got.” The woman ran her hands across Beti’s waist and down over her skirt.
A rustle of leaves. Beti twisted her body to give a thrust so Nellie could see. She needn’t have bothered. Nellie flew into the back of the man pitching them both forward. The man released his grip, and Beti landed on one knee. Wobbling to get to her feet quickly, the woman grabbed Beti’s arm.
“Oh no ye don’t.” She sneered.
“Let go of me.” Beti wrenched her arm free. The woman grabbed the other. Charlie howled as he tried to shake Nellie off his right forearm.
“Let her go.”
Stunned Beti looked up into the barrel of Zeke’s long rifle. The woman picked up her child who’d been moving in and around the tree trunks.
“Don’t shoot my baby!” She screamed over top of Nellie’s barking and Charlie’s grunting as he tried to fight off Nellie nipping at his backside.
“That’ll do, Nellie.”
The dog nipped a few more times.
Beti raised her voice and steeled the soft timbre. “That. Will. Do. Nellie.”
The dog growled. She paused never taking her eyes off the man.
“Heel.”
Nellie came to rest at her side. Chest heaving.
“Shoot that dog!” The woman hollered closing in on Charlie still holding the baby. “Look what it done to me Charlie!”
Beti knelt and hugged her old friend. “Thank ye, girl.” It had been so close. She gazed up through watery eyes to see Zeke, rifle still aimed at the couple. Gathering behind him was Moses Woodbridge, Captain Taylor and others of the men in their wagon train.
She stepped into Zeke’s arms dislodging his stance. She buried her face into his chest, which she noticed heaved much as Nellie’s had. She wrapped her arms around his middle. “Thank ye.” Tears flowed freely. “Thank ye for coming.”
His arms came around her. “Shhhh.”
“Shall we chase ’em, Cap’n?” Mose’s eagerness jumped in his words.
“And do what with them?”
Zeke stiffened. “Surely ye don’t mean to let them go?”
“I ask ye then—what do ye propose we do with them when we catch ’em? Take ’em to Kentucky?”
“I aim to make sure he is never fit to touch a woman again.”
“And the child?”
“We can at least bring them to the law in Norfolk.”
“We don’t know if there is any law in Norfolk. Last I saw it was naught but a burned-out husk.”
Zeke stayed put.
“Captain, I should like to say thank ye, for help—”
“Try to keep ye-self from trouble, Miss Sigridsdatter. We don’t have the time nor the resources to rescue ye every day.”
“That’s what comes from having females traveling alone.” Mr. Edwards made himself known by the sharp resounding tones of his speech. Beti saw others from the group now, nodding their heads and heading back out of the forest.