Due to Aggie’s generosity, Zeke hadn’t needed to cook since they’d started out. Tomorrow was his turn to provide food for the meal she would expertly prepare. He sliced off a generous piece of ham and approached Beti’s fire, lugging his stool behind him.
He hadn’t realized how isolated she was back here at the end of the wagon train. He made a note to speak to Isaac about her placement in the morning. Surely there was space for her closer to the front.
“May I?” He offered the bit of meat. Beti’s eyes widened. “For Nellie. She deserves something special after what she did today.”
Beti beamed. “Aye, she does. She may not have room after all I gave her myself, but ye are welcome to give her the treat.”
“Have ye eaten?” She asked while Nellie snatched up the ham.
“No. I thought—”
A flush rose in her cheeks. “Forgive me, send my regards to Aggie.” She turned back to her pipkin and pan of biscuits.
He stepped to her back. “Miss Beti, I should like to—”
* * *
It was there again. Heat from his body reaching out to hers. Close enough to slip into his arms.
Beti rotated to face him. What should he like?
“That stew smells like heaven itself, Miss Beti.” Toby rolled a log over to sit on and handed his plate to her waiting hand. “I could eat a whole sheep.”
Beti filled his plate to the rim and topped it with a couple of malformed biscuits. It had been frightful day, and it sure showed in the biscuits. Toby’d just taken his place when Gordon trailed by his boys arrived.
“Oh, Beti, what is the delicious smell?” Aggie lugged her kettle to the fire and nestled it among the coals. Before she was settled, Captain Taylor and Moses arrived. A fluster flew through Beti’s countenance. So they’d come to give her the dressing down. To tell her she had to leave.
If that was the way it had to be so be it. She would keep Toby and see about hiring another few men to travel with her to Kentucky.
“Please excuse me,” she hesitated hating the tremors in her voice, “But what are ye doing here?”
“She’s daft.” Mose popped in with a grin.
“She. Is. Not. Daft.” Aggie jabbed her finger to drive home the point.
Beti searched their faces coming to rest on Captain Taylor’s. He shook his head silently, no.
“It’s what friends do.” Mose shrugged.
Friends? This is what friends do. They come. She took the warm thought and tucked it away in her heart to dwell on later.
“Ye are very welcome.” Beti smiled to herself as she mixed up another batch of biscuit dough and reached for her stash of cinnamon. Friends. The warmth in her heart sent worry out to pasture. And went a far piece into staving off the fear she knew would come that night. Would the man from the woods come back with his woman and her thieving hands? Of course, Toby slept under the wagon. He should hear anything so long as he wasn’t too much the worse for ale.
Beti joined them round the fire once she’d nestled her pan of cinnamon biscuits into the coals. Zeke positioned his stool next to her own. Aggie sat on the other side. On the far side of Aggie was Gordon. Across the fire was Captain Taylor and Moses. Toby stayed on his log near the fire.
“They will not come after ye tonight,” Zeke whispered.
She gasped more at the nearness of his breath than his declaration. The smell of him invaded her senses. Leather, pine, outdoors. Did he have to smell so good? In fact, she wasn’t too sure she heard what he said. “How do ye know?”
“There is nowhere to hide. They do not wish to be caught.”
“Thank ye.” Zeke’s assessment made her feel better. She was not exactly sure she agreed, but she felt better anyway. She’d leave it at that.
“Miss Beti,” Aggie started, “let me introduce ye to my friends.” She gestured to her left, “This is Gordon.”
Gordon half stood and offered his hand. “Gordon Sharpe. These are my boys. Travis and Will.” The boys looked up briefly from their game of jacks.
“That’s a good idea, Aggie. For simplicity’s sake let us all introduce ourselves, perhaps say from where we hail,” Captain Taylor said.
“Well, ye know I’m Gordon, my boys and I come from the area around Battletown.”
“Hey, I didn’t realize we come from so close together. I’m Moses Woodbridge, ma’am. I come from Fredericktown—not too far from Battletown. Little more frontier-like out where I come from.”
“So ye know firsthand what we are facing,” Beti offered.
“Yes, ma’am. I know a might about Indians.” The light in his eyes dimmed a shade, and his bright smile retreated to thin lips. He shifted his gaze to Aggie. “When that supper gonna be ready?”
Aggie grinned and waved a hand to dismiss him.
“Isaac Taylor, Miss Beti. I hail from Fredericksburg.” Captain Taylor focused on Zeke who went next.
“Hezekiah Smith.”
“Who descends from a loooong line of distinguished Smiths.” Moses’ sense of humor returned. He counted on his fingers. “Ezekiel Smith, Jehoshaphat Smith, Obadiah Smith, did I leave any of ’em out?”
Zeke let out a hearty chuckle. “Sounds like ye got ’em all.”
Beti turned to regard him fully. Never had she heard such names all in one family.
“My uncle Eleazar Smith, is fond of listing off the important Smiths.” The joy in his countenance was infectious.
She scanned the ring about the fire before starting her own introduction. “My name is Behethlan—”
“Yeah, we know about the other one.” Moses giggled. “I think she’s got ye beat, Zeke.”
“What does it mean?” Zeke asked quietly.
“I was named for a beautiful church my mother visited once. She said she loved the name.”
“I think the Smiths randomly flipped pages in the Bible until they found a sound they liked. My parents never told me a reason why they would name me after a king,” Zeke said.
“Where ye from?” hollered Moses.
“Outer Banks, North Carolina.”
Aggie went next. “My name is Agatha Thornton. Tom and I came out from Fincastle.” She moved to her pot. “Bring yer plates.”
The men hopped in line before Beti could bend to retrieve her cup. She went to her own kettle to fill her plate. When they were all seated, Captain Taylor nodded to Gordon.
“Let us pray.” He proceeded to bless the food and the night ahead. Nothing was said for at least five minutes while the men inhaled the contents of their plates. Beti had never witnessed anyone eating so fast in her life. They’d give Nellie a run for her money, and that was saying something. Zeke was finished by the time Beti was taking number two bite of her biscuit dipped in savory stew.
Ahh but it tasted good. She closed her eyes in a thankful prayer.
“Something smells awful good.” The longing in the young voice broke her reverie. She looked down to see Will.
“Do ye think so?” Beti tried to balance her plate on her seat, and Zeke offered his hand. Beti’s fingertips brushed his as she accepted. A frisson sizzled through to her belly.
She rubbed her hands together and made her way to the pan. The biscuits were just browned, and cinnamon goodness oozed from the creases. “They are done.” She pulled the pan from the fire and set them on the transom of her wagon.
“Would ye like one?” she asked Will.
“Can we Pa?” the boys sounded in unison.
He nodded. Beti smiled at the boys. “They’re hot.” She cautioned as she placed one on each plate. “Anyone else?”
The line formed again.
Zeke still held her plate, his own cinnamon biscuit waiting.
“Sorry.” She retrieved her supper.
“We haven’t had any of these since Aunt Mary made them at home,” Travis enthused.
“Ye have family still in Battletown?” Beti questioned, surprised.
“Aye,” Gordon answered. “My brother and his wife own the family farm. If I’m to make something for us, I need to search more land.”
“I thought ye had more than one brother,” Moses said while licking his fingers.
“Aye. I have two brothers.”
“Where’s—”
Captain Taylor put a hand on Moses arm to silence him.
“Gordon’s brother kept the boys while Gordon was gone to the Continentals,” Addie whispered.
Beti nodded.
The camaraderie about the fire warmed her soul, and the jitters she’d held deep inside began to release themselves into a wish to have her knitting pins and pattern before her. Around them golden dots of firesides adorned the winding ribbon of wagon train. Her mind started spinning patterns for new tapes. Perhaps tomorrow evening.
It was amazing, really, to think she’d have the energy to do anything after walking so far. But though she spent the last two days with her sheep, they didn’t walk fast and Nellie was the one doing the running after them. So Beti’s meal preparations were quite simple. Once she was done, the evenings unraveled before her like unpromised skeins of wool. She’d no doubt it would get better as she got stronger.
“That is the best biscuit I have had in a long time.” Zeke leaned in to interrupt her thoughts. Warm leather and pine greeted her nose.
“It was the least I could do after what ye did for me today.”
“I am just glad I noticed in time to do something. It was brilliant to train ye dog that way.”
She looked down at her half-eaten meal. “Ye can’t be the daughter of—” She caught herself before she said it.
“Can’t be the daughter of who?” Zeke leaned in again. Why should his smell be so alluring? He’d worked all day in the heat and the sun. She should be repulsed.
“Of a single gentleman and not learn how to defend oneself.”
Before long, Aggie hefted her now empty pot and said her goodbyes. Beti stood. The men followed suit except for Zeke who sat on his stool with his leg straight out in front of him.
“How fairs yer leg?” She asked as she turned toward the fire to retrieve her pipkin.
“So far so good.”
“That be a blessing then.”
“Aye.”
She’d been concerned about the night, but nothing was as unsettling as finding herself alone with Zeke. Yet, she was comforted to know he was near. His arms after her ordeal were more comfort than she’d known since her father died.
“Well, it is a long day tomorrow.” She felt him shuffle behind her. She spun to find him a heartbeats distance. His arms came around her, hands landing just below her shoulders.
“I wanted to—” The light of the fire illuminated areas usually hidden in the shadows of his hat. Brown eyes filled with concern and maybe something else as they looked intently into her own. A fine stubble grazed his chin. She held her hand back from reaching out to experience its stiffness. She let her gaze slip to his lips.
He dropped his hands and moved away like she’d slapped him.
The warmth of the fire cooled the distance he made between them.
He said something she did not hear for the rush of heat infusing her face. She dared not look up for fear of the rejection she would surely see there mocking her. He was a nice man. She was naught but a naive girl. She clasped her hands in front of her waist and straightened her spine. Behethlan Boatman had nothing to fear. This was her new life.
He stood by the fire, hands on his waist. “I apologize.” His hands dropped, and he stepped closer. “I wanted to say that ye need not fear. I will watch for ye.”
She lifted her chin. “Ye needn’t worry, Mr. Smith. Toby will sleep under the wagon. I am perfectly safe.”
* * *
Would that it was true. The past nights Toby Abbot had spent in the taverns, returning in no condition to keep watch. Zeke had kept his own watch. He reckoned it was mostly the Army training. He’d sat innumerable nights waiting and watching for any sign of the enemy. Mose was right. At this point it felt normal to sleep a couple of hours, watch a couple of hours, and doze again. Except this time he hadn’t gotten clear orders to watch a road or pass. This time, it was a woman. He didn’t know what he was going to do with her yet, but he’d have to keep her safe while he figured it out.
Zeke rubbed his hands up and down his thighs and paced across the back of his wagon. He’d nearly kissed her. What was he thinking? He had no right to think that way about Beti. He couldn’t even stand up long enough to give her the thorough kissing she deserved. His ears pinked at the thought of her in his arms. Soft. She fit just right, and the way she’d looked at him made him plum forget he was a cripple unfit for any woman.
He climbed up into his wagon, his rifle across his knees, and settled in to watch through the canvas.
* * *
“We should just step right in there and ask her if she’s the princess. Then when she tells us she is, we ask her if she wants to come home and rule her kingdom. Who could turn down that kind of an offer? No one, that’s who. So when she says yes, we take her wagon and go home. It is that simple.”
The old man chuckled at his protege. Soon, the young man would assume his duties, and Hagbard would gladly relinquish the burden. He would spend his last years resting in the warm springs near the castle pondering the old days. Perhaps dictate his memoirs. Oh, yes. Agmund could have it, the job, the special privileges, the whole thing. But not until he, Hagbard, had completed this last task. And he would do it right.
It was an old promise made when his hair was still ruddy and his arms held steady a broadsword. And yet, promises made were meant to be kept. He must be certain. He would not allow an incompetent to sit on his old friend’s throne. The kingdom wouldn’t survive. On the whole, the king’s brother had held it together, but his sons were a disaster. The youngest of them was strong and selfish. Dane, the eldest, appeared weak in body and though not in mind. He spent more time at his desk with dusty books than the old warrior thought necessary. Perhaps given time he would prove himself. Hagbard often wondered how two such different creatures could come from same joining.
“Nothing great is done in haste,” Hagbard responded.
The young man’s frustration vibrated the air between them. “Would it not be easier if we did not hover in secret merely observing? Would it not be easier to talk to the woman, and from there determine her suitability?”
He kicked at a glowing log sending luminescence into the canopy above them. “She is at risk. Ye saw what happened today.”
“That I did. She behaved most admirably.”
“Surely this hiding in the woods is not easy for ye either, Hagbard.”
“That is the third time ye have used that word, ‘easy’. Use care with that word, Agmund. It isn’t made of sterling stuff.”
Agmund huffed down onto his bedroll. Arms crossed, he turned his gaze to the sky. “Do ye think the messengers are with her?”
“I have seen signs of their presence.”
Agmund swung up to a sitting position. “Then it is settled, we just go get her.”
“The presence of angels does not mean she is chosen. It simply means she’s of the royal household of Hakaan. They will protect her.”
“They did nothing to protect her today.”
“So long with me, and yet ye don’t learn. They must protect her right to choose. We will do the same.”
Hagbard was sure he was not supposed to hear the frustrated huff of his student.
“Was her mother this difficult?”
The playful countenance of Sigrid danced across his mind unbidden as she sometimes did. A beauty that knew nothing of indulgence, Sigrid had captured Hagbard’s heart the way his own daughters had done, but not her father’s, Hakaan was a king. A flinty man who had time only for strong sons. “Astrid’s Papa” she called Hagbard, until that last time. When he came first to this land of many forests to tell her of the death of her bothers and of Hakaan’s command to return. “No, Papa,” she’d said. “I will not leave my home.”
“As stubborn as yer father.” Hagbard had countered, thinking only of taking her home.
“No, not as stubborn as my father. As committed to my loves as my Papa.” She’d thrown her arms around him then, and then they both cried.
His mind returned to his present companion. “No. Her mother was a woman in love. A woman who was loved and needed by her family,” he said to his protégé.
“Her country needed her. Easy solution: bring the loves with ye.”
“And the loves have no say so in the matter? I see ye need more than schooling in diplomacy. Do not forget Prince Dane.”
“There is nothing to forget. He grows dusty in the library.”