Emmett jerked awake. He was angry with himself for falling asleep, but even though he’d assured Miss Tidwell he was much improved, the truth was, his body wasn’t yet healed. It had taken an enormous effort to pull himself up to a sitting position and maintain it during the entire breakfast and medical examination.
The conversation he’d overheard between Miss Tidwell and her neighbor had left him tense. The redcoats not only knew about the attack, they were searching for his company. Had they found his men? Were his men even alive? He pulled on the ropes, frustration making his fists clench. He hated feeling so helpless. He saw his clothes in a folded pile beside his boots, and a basket sat close beside him. When he moved away the cloth, he found strips of ham and some cornbread, which he gratefully ate.
Laying back, he let his eyes close, and he thought of Miss Abigail Tidwell. He’d been almost certain she’d turn him in this morning. But she hadn’t. Had his roguish smile worked after all? He discounted the idea immediately. Abigail didn’t seem the type of person to be swayed by a bit of flirting. But she had been swayed. And he believed her worry for his well-being was the reason. He figured she considered him her patient and felt an obligation to care for him. Or perhaps it had nothing at all to do with him, and her stubbornness was to blame; she intended to turn him in on her own terms.
Whatever the rationale behind her action, Emmett’s worry expanded to include her. If he was found in Abigail’s barn, it would mean trouble for both of them. She’d taken a risk keeping him here and then concealing it.
A sound roused him, and he realized he’d fallen asleep again.
“Captain,” a voice whispered.
Someone was shaking his shoulder.
Emmett woke completely and opened his eyes just as his bonds were cut free. He blinked, noticing shadows stretching across the floor. Was it already late in the afternoon? “Private Hopkins? Corporal Webb?”
The two men crouched over him. Jasper Webb’s weather-worn face revealed none of his thoughts, as was typical for the Kentuckian. On his wiry frame, he wore buckskin clothing with tassels and moccasins instead of an army uniform. His hat was made from the head of a bear, giving him a fearsome look. The volunteer militia was an eclectic-looking group. Some dressed in their grandfather’s old Revolutionary War uniforms, but most simply wore civilian clothing. Jasper was an excellent hunter and tracker and had spent years in the mountains of Kentucky. He didn’t speak often, possibly because he was accustomed to time alone.
Barney Hopkins may have been Jasper’s complete opposite. A large man from Ohio, and a bit slow-witted, he concealed nothing, his every sentiment showing in his words and expressions. Emmett had found him to be one of the most loyal men he’d ever known, and extremely honest. He could not have been any more relieved to see the two.
“Why don’t you have any clothes on, Captain?” Barney Hopkins asked, helping Emmett into a sitting position. “Oh. You’re wounded.” He pointed to the bandages.
“I’m fine,” Emmett said.
“And you’re wearing a sock on your hand.”
“How did you find me?” Emmett looked between the two. The buckskin-clad man had moved silently to the door and was peeking outside.
“Jasper,” Barney said. “He found you. And all of us. After the Indian attack, we were scattered. We discovered your pack in the woods.” He motioned to the side, and Emmett saw his rucksack.
“And is everyone . . . ?” He left the question hanging, not wanting to voice his fear.
Barney’s expression fell. “Luke was hurt.”
Emmett’s heart grew heavy. Luke Hopkins was Barney’s brother and, at seventeen, the youngest in their company. “Is he . . . ?” Emmett looked to Jasper.
“He’s alive,” Jasper said. His eyes narrowed slightly, telling Emmett the boy’s condition was more serious than he wished to discuss in front of Barney. “Murphy is with him.” All of the company had survived then.
Emmett pulled the sock from his hand and reached for the pile of clothing. He tried not to wince, not wanting his men to see how badly his injuries pained him. The shirt had a long seam where it had been mended. Abigail must have had to cut it off him. His coat was mended as well, and all of his clothes were clean. Once he was dressed, he started to put on his socks, but paused. Even though they’d been darned, they were still threadbare and worn.
He plucked the blue-and-yellow-striped socks from Barney’s curious hands and put them on then his boots. The simple task of dressing had completely worn him out, and Emmett leaned back against the wagon. “They’re searching for us, Corporal.”
Jasper nodded. He looked back through the crack of the door.
“And we can’t trust the locals, either.” Emmett picked up the rope and wound it around his arm then hung it from a peg on the wall. He folded the quilt and pillows, setting them into the wagon with the basket that had held his lunch. “We must conceal all traces of my being here.”
Jasper joined him, using a shovel to dig up the blood-stained dirt and spread it.
Emmett picked up the arrowhead and slipped it into the pouch in his pocket.
The three crept from the barn, and Emmett glanced back at the house. He felt a stab of remorse, leaving without seeing Abigail again. He owed his life to the woman, and he’d at least have liked to give his thanks and bid her farewell properly. But this was the best way. The longer he remained, the more danger he was putting her in.
They hurried across the open land and into the forest. Emmett couldn’t help but shiver. He’d never known cold like that of Upper Canada. It bit at his skin, and he wished for a scarf or a pair of gloves. But he knew the only way to warm up was to keep his body moving.
Once they were beneath the shadow of the trees, they continued silently, heading north to where the river was narrow enough to cross. In a few hours, the night would be fully dark. Jasper fell back beside Emmett. “Luke is hurt bad.” The man’s whisper was barely audible. “Without a doctor . . .” He left the remainder of the thought unspoken.
Emmett halted. He hesitated but knew instinctively what they must do. Besides, there was not time to come up with another plan. “I know a doctor.”
***
Emmett eased open the door, and the smell of warm bread greeted him. He slipped into the house with Jasper and Barney and followed the homey sound of a woman’s humming until he stepped through a doorway into the kitchen.
Abigail spun, and when she saw him, her eyes grew wide. “Captain Prescott. You shouldn’t be walking about. Your injuries.” She started toward him and then drew back as if just now making a realization. “How did you get free?”
The other two men stepped into the doorway behind Emmett, and Abigail’s face paled. She gasped and stumbled backward.
Emmett held up his hands. He should have approached this a bit more delicately. “Miss Tidwell—Abigail. Do not worry. These are my men. Corporal Jasper Webb, Private Barnabus Hopkins.” Emmett pointed at the others in turn. “They won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes darted back and forth. She moved to the other side of the kitchen, keeping the table between herself and the men.
“Block the door,” Emmett said in a low voice, nodding toward the door in the outside wall.
Jasper moved to stand in front of it.
“Miss Tidwell, we need you to come with us,” Emmett said.
Abigail watched Jasper with an uneasy expression. “Come with you where?”
“A camp on the other side of the river,” Emmett said. “One of my men is injured. He needs a doctor.”
She hesitated, her eyes moving between the three, and then she shook her head. She had, of course, traveled often enough across the river and all along the borders of Lake Ontario when the weather was warm, but that was before the southern side of the lake became enemy territory.
“Once you have seen to him, we will deliver you safely to Detroit,” Emmett said.
“I cannot go with you.”
Emmett’s side burned, his head pounded, and his energy was nearly spent. They still needed to march through a cold forest filled with enemy soldiers and cross a frozen river tonight. He didn’t have time to argue. “I apologize, miss, but I did not give you the option.” He turned to Barney, glad to be giving orders again. Having a plan and knowing the steps to execute it is what he excelled at. “Gather anything that looks useful. There’s a basket of bandages somewhere around here—”
Abigail bolted, trying to run past him, but he stepped in front of her. “You’ll want to bring some warmer clothes and boots, miss. We have a long walk ahead.”
She folded her arms and raised her chin. “I am not going anywhere.”
Emmett stood straight, though his side protested. “Yes, you are.”
Her eyes narrowed. “No. I will not.”
Perhaps he’d been wrong in thinking Abigail was nothing like his sister. Her stubborn posture was exactly like that of Lydia’s right before a tantrum. Emmett’s temper rose. They were wasting time. “You are coming. If I have to carry you over my shoulder—”
“Miss.” Barney pulled the leather hat from his head and held it by the brim. “Captain says you’re a healer.” His eyes were large beneath a furrowed brow and wrinkled forehead. He stepped forward, his earnest face open and pleading. “My brother Luke is hurt. He’s only seventeen, and I told Ma I’d keep him safe. Please, will you help him?”
Abigail studied Barney closely. She was quiet for a long moment. She glanced at Emmett then at Jasper. Finally she nodded. “Yes. I will, Mr. Hopkins. If you will truly deliver me to Detroit. Thank you for asking politely.” She shot a glare at Emmett.
He could have sworn Jasper’s mouth twitched.
Abigail continued speaking to Barney. “I have a medical bag upstairs, but I should add a few more things. Can you describe for me your brother’s injury?”
Barney grasped his arm above the wrist. “A tomahawk hit him here. The bone is broken, and Murphy tried to set it, but he said the arm is too inflamed.”
“Is the wound bleeding?” Abigail asked. “Did the bone poke through the skin?”
He nodded. “Poked through, all right. It was bleeding at first, but we stopped the blood. Now there is just pus.”
“And is his arm hot?”
“Hot and red,” Barney said.
She nodded, and Emmett saw a wrinkle deepen between her brows. “We should hurry. Will you help me gather my things, Mr. Hopkins?”
Emmett stepped aside as Abigail and Barney left the kitchen. “Don’t let her out of your sight, Private,” he muttered as the man passed. The last thing he needed was for Abigail to run to a neighbor’s house and raise an alarm. Making it through the forest and to the other side of the river without the redcoats or Indians spotting them was already a difficult enough task.
“Yes, sir,” Barney said and then hurried to catch up with Abigail on the stairs. “Miss, I wondered if you have any more of those warm socks . . .” His voice trailed off, and Emmett turned to Jasper.
The man’s gaze was fixed on the freshly baked loaves.
“Do Murphy and Luke have any food?” Emmett asked.
Jasper nodded. “I left them with a hare and some wild onions, but it will hardly be enough.”
“Bring what you can find,” Emmett said. He left Jasper to collect provisions and went to find Abigail and Barney. Hearing their voices, he followed the sound to a room on the upper floor. When he entered he saw Abigail packing small bottles and parcels into a bag. Barney sat on a chair, putting on a pair of red-and-green stockings. Based on the hat hanging on a peg, the room appeared to belong to a man, probably her father’s. The bed was bare, and he wondered if it was her father’s quilt that had kept him warm in the barn.
Guilt at invading this woman’s personal space made Emmett’s throat burn. He couldn’t imagine how angry he would feel if strangers came into his home and demanded his compliance.
He left the room and continued along the hallway, entering another. He glanced around the small bedroom and saw a simple bed with a worn patchwork quilt. A child’s doll sat on a dressing table with a woman’s hairbrush and comb. Beside the bed were a collection of thick tomes about earth sciences and medicine. Hardly the type of reading material he expected to find in a cabin on the Ontario frontier, let alone in a young lady’s bedchamber. On the windowsill, he noticed a row of colorful rocks: striped sandstone, a chunk of granite, and one with spectacular veins of turquoise were among the collection. He moved closer to study them.
“My collection is not as fine as yours, Captain.” Abigail entered the room behind him. “I am a bit jealous of your quartz crystal.”
Emmett pointed to one of the small rocks. “Yes, but you have a blue fluorite. I’ve only seen a specimen of this color when I was at university.”
Abigail’s face lit up in a smile, showing a dimple in her right cheek. “You know your minerals. I wondered. Now we shall have something interesting to discuss as we travel.”
Emmett was taken aback by the change in her demeanor. None of the woman’s former anger remained. She didn’t seem to resent the imposition upon her or the intrusion into her home at all. Nor did she appear to hold a grudge. It seemed once her mind was made up, Abigail was the sort of person who did not alter her course, and he quite admired that about her.
She opened the wardrobe, and Emmett saw that inside hung two dresses. His sister had a closet larger than this entire room, filled with gowns, gloves, bonnets, slippers, ribbons, and who knew what else. Perhaps not all women required gowns and frippery to be happy.
Abigail pulled out one of the dresses and laid it on the bed. She stood for a moment, tapping her finger on her lip. “We should take food. I have root vegetables in the cellar.”
“Jasper is gathering food,” Emmett said.
“Good.” She continued to tap her lip as if going through a mental checklist. “And dry clothes for Luke. Isaac should have some in his bedroom. And the quilt from the barn. The rest of my medical equipment is downstairs in the kitchen. I will fetch it on the way”—she drew in a breath—“Oh, Maggie. I will need to milk her before we leave. I’ll leave a note for Mr. Kirby to care for her while I’m gone . . .” Abigail paused and looked toward the doorway at Barney. “Mr. Hopkins, would you mind milking my cow for me? She will be quite miserable by the time my neighbor arrives the day after tomorrow.”
Barney looked to Emmett for permission, and seeing his nod, he hurried away to take care of the cow.
Once he’d left, Abigail’s expression became grave. “Captain Prescott.” She spoke in a low voice and darted a glance toward the door as if making certain Barney was truly gone. “I do not know if I can save Luke.” Her brows pulled tightly together, making furrows above her nose. “Broken bones are common enough, even when they’ve punctured the skin. I’ve tended to many of those. But from Mr. Hopkins’s description, it sounds like there is already some infection. I will try, but days have passed and—”
“I understand.”
“I will do everything I can, I promise.”
“Thank you.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “I’ll find some clothes in my brother’s room.” She started past him, but Emmett hooked his hand on the inside of her elbow to stop her. He took the letter from her hand and nodded as he read Abigail’s story about being summoned to Detroit by her father. He lifted his gaze. “Why didn’t you turn me in, Miss Tidwell?”
She looked away, but not before he saw apprehension on her face. “You escaped before I had the chance.”
He shook his head. Not good enough. “You had a chance, earlier today when the man came for the milk. But you didn’t tell him about me. Why?”
“I don’t know.” She pushed her lips together tightly and puffed out a breath through her nose. “I just couldn’t. I thought of Lydia and Isaac, and . . . you’re still mending, and . . . I don’t know why. But I couldn’t. Not when I thought he might harm you.” She pulled away her arm and started down the hallway.
He watched her go, feeling . . . something. Gratitude? Admiration? Curiosity? All of these, surely, but there was more. Abigail Tidwell was unlike any woman he knew, and his desire to know her better tugged at him until it was nearly an ache.
The sensation was unnerving, to say the least.