Isaac tucked into his roll and faced the stars. That Edwards was the worst preacher he’d ever heard. While he knew he wasn’t deserving of the forgiveness offered by God through the sacrifice of His Son, he knew what the offer was. Whosoever will may come, and the Lord would dwell with that whosoever. Isaac’s life was too polluted to allow the Most High anywhere near his life. But the people under his care? Now they were a different story. There was nothing among them that should cause Edwards to blister them with his sermon.
Edward’s niece, now there was a different story. He couldn’t make her out. Since Edwards’ insistence of first place in the wagon train, Isaac saw and heard him plenty, but Charity kept to herself serving her uncle without argument. She had opinions, that was clear by her statement about Miss Beti, which wasn’t too kind considering she was a preacher’s niece, which was almost as good as a daughter. Isaac rolled over pulling his blanket over his shoulder. It didn’t matter anyway. The further he stayed away from the Edwards the better it would be for all of them.
* * *
It started with a gentle sprinkle that drizzled all morning. Moses again brought the directive that they would stay put for another day. Beti couldn’t be sorry. The slow down felt good on the feet, and she was sure Silas and the ewes would benefit from another stop as well. Anything she could do to preserve their coats would pay off after she’d gotten to Kentucky.
By nine, she had straightened out her belongings in the back of the wagon. She sat on a barrel of flour contemplating her backstop heddle. Her mother’s lilting voice as she told the story of how her father had carved the tool while at sea to give to his bride. Hearts entwined with vines and leaves surrounded a tiny sailing ship delicately carved into the surface. The slats and holes for the warp looked more like a garden gate than a tool for weaving.
She’d a mind to make tapes that reflected the glows of the campfires in a string. For the weft she chose a burnt pumpkin color leftover from cloth she’d woven for Rosalee last fall. For the warp she selected a blue gray reminiscent of the sea and a misty green that reminded her of the foggy mornings she’d walked with Nellie and the sheep through the trees.
The amiable sound of water landing in the mud and dripping from leaves lent coziness to her temporary home. Though she knew the ducking would eventually begin to leak, she pushed those thoughts away. Contentment soothed her spirit, and her hands laid the warp and threaded her heddle. What did it matter that some would reject her in her new home? The world had rejected their Lord. Beti Boatman was nothing compared with Him.
She’d just finished warping when she heard a small knock on the transom. Aggie poked her head under the duck covering.
“The Captain has arranged for a parlor in the ordinary. It is bound to be better than huddling until the rain stops.” She grinned and left as quickly as she came.
Beti couldn’t contain her smile. It would indeed be pleasant to sit by a fire with the luxury of standing up when she chose despite the rain. She offered a prayer of thanks before placing her weaving in a basket. If she went quickly, she could keep it dry.
Donning her cloak without tumbling anything over, she rested her rifle on the closest barrel and pulled back the drape to find Toby.
“Allow me, Miss Beti.”
Astonished she allowed him to lift her down from the transom.
“Is everything well?”
“Yes, ma’am. But seeing as ye all will be spending the day in an ordinary I thought to accompany ye.”
Her surprise must have registered on her face, though she was polite enough not to let her jaw drop into her basket.
“Ordinaries are not, well, they are just not always the place for gentle people, Miss Beti.”
A draft of fear stabbed her good mood. She repositioned the rifle hanging across her shoulders. “Have ye heard anything in particular?”
“Oh, no ma’am. It’s just that, well, they can be rough places.”
Tenderness welled up at the kindness of the man. He offered his arm, and Beti took it if for nothing else than to keep her shoes on in the mud pudding between them and the door. She would have preferred Zeke’s arm, but a quick glance showed him not to be around. The contentment she’d felt thinned until it was gone. This was a busy road, a public tavern. She’d have to keep watch.
“How fairs Silas?” she asked.
“Happy enough. They have huddled themselves in the back corner of the yard.”
She nodded. “Aye. They do that in the rain.”
Nellie had secured a dry corner in the barn. Pushing away the feeling she needed to gather her belongings to her side to protect them, she took deep breath and let it out. All was well. She would stay alert, but there was no reason why she shouldn’t enjoy the day with her new friends out of the rain.
When they arrived, the small, paneled room was crowded with life. Some people stood in clusters, others sat around a cheery fire, still others angled their handwork around the meager light from a window aided by a lamp. Voices floated and sometimes punched through the sounds of industry. Knitting pins, wood carving, knife sharpening, mending, the beating of tape looms. The tussle of children and their mamas. Joy rose in Beti’s soul. Despite the looks of a few women, she knew she belonged here with these people.
Alice Swift patted the seat of the only empty chair. Beti scurried to secure her place. Not far from Alice, her brother Thomas politely listened to Charity Edwards. Beti had yet to see Charity up close. She had smooth skin and placid blue eyes that filled a face framed in curly gold. The honey and red tones blended together as only God could do. Beti wondered if she swirled the color just before placing the wool into the dye if she could achieve the right balance to match the tone. Oh, it would be lovely in just about anything she could think of to make. She turned back to Aggie before she could be caught staring, but she couldn’t help taking one more look before she settled. Miss Edwards’ petite form was pretty enough, but there was something not entirely open about her. Beti couldn’t place what it was she sensed, but all was not what it seemed. Of that she was sure.
Thomas Swift was gratifying to look at, though just beyond him Zeke leaned against the wall. They locked eyes. Beti’s heart tripped. Heat blazed her cheeks.
“Was it not a blessing for Captain Taylor to arrange this room?” Aggie asked.
“Aye.” Beti forced her eyes to her work. “’Tis good to be out of the rain.”
“And out of the wagon.”
* * *
The site of Beti on Toby’s arm rustled Zeke from the wall. She settled after locating Miss Swift. Beti started to fiddle with some kind of loom looking thing. He shifted down to his stool.
“Did ye see them two from Kemp’s?”
Zeke slipped his eyes to Mose.
“They were in the yard when I checked on the horses. Copper is fine.”
“I thank ye.”
Zeke started toward the exit. Mose followed.
“This is the road to Caroliny.”
“Yep.” That’s what worries me. He didn’t say it. Mose was already jumping to conclusions Zeke wasn’t ready to think about. Yes, he liked Miss Beti. Heck, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Eyes the color of a sandy pool, hair the colors of mahogany and teak. Musical laughter. Kindness and strength he’d rarely seen in a woman. But could he love her?
Enough.
She deserved a whole man, and if she picked Toby, he would rejoice with them. His gut twisted like a new piece of rope.
“Did ye hear anything I said?”
“Nope.”
Zeke strode from the room, Mose at his heels. The rain had subsided down to a sprinkle. More than one man stood under the canopy of the damp and chilly porch smoking. Shoe-sucking mud filled the path to the outhouse.
“No sign of ’em.” Mose said after they’d stood outside a good five minutes. “I think I’ll go inside.”
“I thought ye missed the Army life? Surely this bit of drizzle is naught.”
“Aye,” the affable Mose quickly agreed. “I am not opposed to weathering misery if there is a purpose.”
It was downright irksome when the boy was right. Zeke said nothing and followed Mose back inside, then deviated into the main chamber. Empty tables filled the room. Cheerful chatter leaked from the parlor. There was no sign of the men from Kemp’s that had followed Beti that night. They’d either bedded down or moved on. Zeke didn’t like it.
Back in the parlor, Beti was still working on that odd-looking loom thing she’d tied herself to. The Quakers remained within her arm’s reach. The rifle she’d strapped about herself leaned against the wall. Aggie sat the other side of the room mending a small pair of breeches.
Folks paired off into groups. In the far corner were the men who drove at the front of the wagon train. Farmers with strong backs and better know-how. These men would build the town that Zeke would live in. They would be neighbors and friends. His initial reservations eased as he watched these men work on their tack and other tasks that always needed doing. Edwards, forever long-winded, stood in the center holding forth. It appeared they were discussing the war. Isaac and Mose stood along the far wall talking and watching out the only window.
The women clustered near the fire in no certain order that Zeke could decipher. Hands to various homey tasks, their talk was low unless a child stepped out of line. Then that voice that only a mother owns would cut across the din.
“They were with Morgan in Quebec,” a farmer’s voice rang out.
Edwards ceased, and Zeke’s ears relaxed in the lull. Quebec. That fight was doomed from the outset. And yet they’d plunged right in. Following Morgan over the wall and into chaos. Morgan himself was captured. His regiment barely made it out. What difference it made on this road to Kentucky he had no idea. People seemed to want to know. To say thank you. It just made Zeke uncomfortable. He and his men did no more than their duty.
He should check on Copper. Yeah, that was it. Zeke crossed the room in a couple of strides.
The rest of the day passed quietly. By the time supper was announced with the possibility of some dancing after, Zeke was ready to give Beti’s odd little loom a try. Anything to ease the boredom.
Tables of various sizes were brought into the room. And though each provided their own supper, they assembled around uneven tables which afforded more camaraderie than wagons under the stars.
Alice had taken the seat across from Beti by the time Zeke arrived with his plate at one of the long tables. That left him sitting next to her, which was his preference especially since he had the good fortune to arrive before Alice’s brother. Disappointment lingered around the man when he arrived, though he chose not to speak about his misfortune.
“So the heddle was carved by yer father for yer mother?” Alice asked nodding to the contraption. No bigger than a letter, it looked like a paddle with well-placed holes and slats. A sailing ship with hearts expertly carved on either side adorned the top.
“Aye. He made it as a courting gift and gave it to her for their wedding.”
“Shall we pray?” Thomas interrupted.
In the silence, her fragrance drifted toward him. She smelled like a fresh breeze off the sea.
“I hear there is to be dancing.” Zeke took a bite.
“I too heard something of that. Unfortunately—” Beti responded.
“I love to dance!” Charity Edwards shined her excitement at Thomas.
Thomas glanced at his sister.
“We do not dance,” Alice stated quietly.
“I would be only too happy to teach ye.” Miss Edwards never took her eyes off Thomas.
“Miss Alice is saying that they choose not to dance.” Aggie leaned around Beti to make herself heard.
Miss Edward’s eyes rounded in surprise, and her cheeks flamed crimson. “I do hope ye will accept my apology, Miss Swift.”
“No apology required. I am sure I do not expect everyone to be aware of our beliefs.”
“Well, I am sure ye couldn’t. I mean whoever heard of lady preachers? And yet here ye are.”
The conversation flowed between the two women across Thomas who took the occasional bite and leaned back to stay out of the way.
Zeke seized the opportunity. “What do ye find unfortunate about dancing, Miss Sigridattir?”
“Only that I do not dance very well. I know a few steps taught to me by Rosalee, my mother’s maid.”
“I should like to have the opportunity to stand up with ye this evening.”
He saw the answer in her eyes before she responded. The acceptance he saw there baffled and warmed him at the same time. “I would be delighted to dance with ye, Mr. Smith.”
“Unfortunately…” He looked down at his leg.
Her cheeks blossomed. “I am dreadfully sorry—”
“Think nothing of it.”
“It is just that I forget—” she stumbled. She put her hand across her mouth. That drew his eye to those lips. Rosy lips that he’d like to touch with his own.