32

A fortnight passed. August waned with a thwarted attack on a small station downriver. One man perished, and then the raiding Indians melted away. Clay kept a quarter of Fort Tygart’s men constantly reconnoitering. He resumed his scouting rounds, more at peace outside the garrison than in it. He and Tessa had barely spoken since he’d gone to Hester’s to tell them the sorrowful news that the search party had returned without Ross. Tessa’s hand was healing, and he saw her about the fort—drawing water at the spring, talking to Maddie, doing one-handed chores—but mostly she kept to herself and the cabin, turning her great-aunt uneasy and raising fresh concerns of his own.

She seemed a shadow of herself. Gone was the quicksilver smile that rose to light her lovely eyes. That lilting laugh. Her clothing began to hang on her slender frame. When he came in and out of the blockhouse he often saw her sitting by the cabin window less than a stone’s throw away. She looked at him without emotion, meeting his eyes only briefly. It cut him in ways he couldn’t fathom.

There was no help for a moment in time that couldn’t be undone. “There are other ways to try and recover him, understand,” he’d told her once. “I’ve written to Fort Pitt, sent word to various outposts. Trappers and traders often bring word of captives they’ve seen or heard about. The chase is far from done.”

She regarded him dully. The lackluster look she’d taken on since his recovering her hadn’t altered. A sense of hopelessness lodged like a millstone in his own soul. He vowed not to seek her out again. Let her come to him if she would. If. The crushing uncertainty of it hung over him like a hatchet.

Hester darkened his door, all but wringing her hands. “Can you do nothing?”

“About Ross?” he said, a hair away from exasperation.

“Nay. Tessa.” She shut the heavy door with surprising strength despite her small frame. “She’ll soon join Jasper if we don’t take action, pining away night and day like she is.”

“What do you advise?” The words came out harsher than he wanted, his own sense of helplessness skirting fury. Passing a hand over his jaw, he fumbled for answers.

“Her spirit’s troubled and there’s no help for it. ‘A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.’”

The proverb was not one he liked to dwell on.

Hester came nearer his desk, all but pacing between it and the hearth. “Was it just my silly, gray-haired hopes, or did I sense some spark betwixt you two?”

“It’s since ebbed,” he said stoically.

“On her part or yours?”

“Not on mine.” There was no letting up with Hester. Once begun, she’d not rest till she had a remedy. “But Tessa is in no temper for courting, as you yourself just said. And I have far more on my mind than frolicking.”

Hester snorted. “A little frolicking might do you both a world of good.”

The kisses they’d shared in the all-too-distant past cobwebbed in his memory.

“This fort is crawling with soldiers, given reinforcements from Fort Pitt just arrived.” She faced him, arms akimbo on her narrow hips. “Seems like you could take Tessa beyond those pickets anytime you please.”

He withheld a sigh. His self-made vow to not approach Tessa till she first approached him wavered before Hester’s persistence. While he didn’t believe Tessa would lie beside Jasper anytime soon, he was concerned enough that she kept him awake nights.

“I’ll speak with her, aye.” But not take her beyond fort walls, nor try to revive the spark that had once nearly turned him on end and now seemed like it never was.

Hester looked hard at him as if awaiting details. He gave none. With a harrumph she went away, leaving him to ponder this new predicament.

He was at the end of his tether regarding Tessa, soldiering on despite her, hoping something would turn in matters of Ross. Since the recent raiding and murders, he himself felt like a target, not knowing if Tamanen was dead or alive. If alive, he’d best watch his back. If dead, Tamanen’s fellow warriors would surely retaliate, might even now be watching the fort, awaiting his riding out alone.

Within these walls, his head and heart were engaged in full-blown battle. Even if Tessa stayed stone cold toward him, he must make a move. Either regain what was lost between them or make peace with the fact she’d never forgive him, their tie irretrievably severed.

His heart, so guarded, was now almost broken by circumstances beyond his control—a brother he couldn’t bring back, the woman he adored eroding before his eyes. He needed answers.

The night was starlit. Clear. A coolness had crept in, carrying a promise the first frost wasn’t far off. Clay came down from the rifle platform at the change of the watch, the brilliant sunset long since faded. The clarity he’d prayed for had finally come, but would Tessa agree to it?

He approached Hester’s cabin, which was brimming with kin. Had he overlooked something?

Standing outside the open door, Zadock answered his perplexity. “’Tis the date Pa died. And now Jasper lies beside him.”

Clay removed his hat in respect, second-guessing himself. Hester had told him a while back the Swans marked the day by gathering but hadn’t said which day it was. They didn’t make a loud show of it, just assembled for a family meal.

Should he stay his plan till a better time? Nay. There was rarely a better time. No guarantee of the next minute, nor tomorrow.

The cabin quieted as his frame filled the open doorway. He wore his Sabbath-best linen shirt and breeches, buckled shoes, and the clocked stockings Tessa had made for him. In his pocket was the heirloom usually secreted in his trunk. The heart-shaped locket bore a slight crack in its tarnished face, but the entire necklace was still intact, the frail chain a filigree of gold. Once it had hung upon the bodice of the woman he loved best, the queen of his own boyish world. Somehow, miraculously, it survived the firing of the Tygart cabin before finding its way back to him, mayhap meant for Tessa herself.

“Colonel Tygart, do come in.” Rosemary stood, turning toward the hearth as if to fetch him a plate or some coffee, but he shook his head while others murmured greetings.

“I’ve come to speak with Tessa. Walk out with her if she will.” There, he’d said it. Issued the invitation. Would she deny him in front of all? Send him away to return the heirloom to the trunk, and all his hopes with it?

Though alarmingly pale when he’d first come in, she was now a becoming pink as she stood. Clad in her Sabbath best—a dress he hadn’t seen before of pale green cloth, the fichu and apron an unspotted cream, her lace-edged cap with its dangling strings covering her bounty of carefully pinned, upswept hair—she made him unashamedly weak-kneed.

He all but held his breath as she came his way, skirting the full table, every eye on them both. He’d missed her. Her voice. Her unique mannerisms. Her warm presence. Would Ross stand between them now? Or had she come to the place where she’d forgiven him for what he couldn’t rectify, couldn’t control?

They walked out into the night, candles from a few cabins casting yellow squares of light hither and yon. In his skittishness, he’d forgotten a meeting was playing out in the blockhouse with the new command, a great many soldiers rambling about the common. He sought the place between a cabin and the far blockhouse nearest the spring that afforded them a bit of privacy. It smelled of mint, the herb growing wild in this sheltered, shady spot.

The moonlight allowed him just a glimpse of her, but already he felt the droop of her once-steadfast spirit. He’d thought she was beyond a lasting melancholy as she’d been so full of life, but mayhap a father’s loss followed by two brothers was too much to cast off. It emboldened him in his purpose, though he was still unsure of her response. Gently, his hand reached for hers in a first, tentative bid. She didn’t pull away as he thought she might. His thoughts became the simplest sort of prayer.

Lord, please help me get this right. His nerve wavered for a second as emotion knotted his throat. I know what needs saying but don’t know how to say it.

At that instant came a slight squeeze to his hand, the pressure of her fingers heartfelt. Coming on the heels of her indifference, it choked him further. For another long minute filled with the wink of fireflies and the rhythmic croak of frogs, he battled for composure.

“You look awfully handsome, Clay.” Her voice was warm if weary. “I’ve never seen you out of buckskins and plain linen.”

“I feel like a skinned bear,” he admitted, which gained a little laugh from her. But appearance was not on his mind. “Do you forgive me, Tessa, for failing to find Ross?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Clay. You did what you could. I see that now, though ’tis a hard loss to take.” She touched his cheek. “Forgive me for being cold. My feelings for you never changed, they just got buried beneath the hurt of it.”

He nodded, the feel of her hand so small in his. He wanted the world for her, wanted to recover Ross and see her smile again. But at least he still had her heart. “You need to be away from here. I see it plain, though you’ve told me so from the start.”

“You mean go overmountain?”

“Aye.” Even as he said it he knew what it would cost the Swans. Her brothers had need of her. Her mother too, even Hester. Hester had talked of an outing beyond fort walls, not clear to Philadelphia. But he forged ahead. “Would you be willing to venture to Fort Pitt? Marry me there if we can find a preacher, before making our way east to Philadelphia?”

His gaze never left her face, gauging any shred of resistance. This was not how he’d intended their courtship to play out. But nothing in his life had been framed by sameness, including this deciding moment.

“You truly want me to be your wife?” Her chin was a-quiver. It was the most undone he’d ever seen her, save Ross.

“With all my being.” He brought her hurt hand to his lips, kissing the bandaged fingers, when what he wanted was to take her fully in his arms. Again that knot in his throat nearly forbade speech. “If you’ll have me.”

She nodded, discarding the nay he’d expected. “When do we leave?”

Leaving, not marrying, was most on her mind then. “As soon as you like. With reinforcements here, we’re free to go.” He’d considered resigning his post more than a time or two, though this was not how he’d considered doing it. Now the hour had come to take her away, restore her fractured spirits. He’d nearly lost her. He’d not chance that again.

“Let’s tell them then,” she said softly.

They made their way back to Hester’s cabin to find the group ringing the table as they’d left them. Clay took the lead when Tessa didn’t speak. He still had hold of her hand, their fingers intertwined. “We’ve decided to marry, and we’d covet your blessing.”

A short gasp from Hester and then Rosemary’s face broke into a joyous smile. Rising, Westfall clapped him on the back while Tessa’s brothers hooted their glee.

Hester spoke for him, laying out the dilemma of why they couldn’t be present for the occasion. “You’ll not wed here, with no one to officiate.”

“We’ll likely wed at Fort Pitt on our way to Philadelphia. Our hope is to leave out tomorrow if there’s no further trouble reported.”

Affirming nods went around, though they all seemed surprised by the suddenness of the plan. Tessa said not a word, just continued holding tight to his hand as if her life depended on his laying things out. She was hardly the blushing bride-to-be. No smile graced her face. No hint of expectation.

“With Major Jennings in charge, the valley should be in good hands,” Westfall said.

“Plenty of men to hold,” Clay agreed. “And if I resign my command there’s always another posthaste.” A great many wanted to make a name for themselves, rise in the ranks. What better way to do it than tread west where the danger was the thickest?

“We’ll begin packing then,” Rosemary said with a glance at Hester. “I’ve set some fancy things aside over the years. Needs be they go east with you.”

Hester nodded, turning toward a trunk. “We’ll try not to weigh you down, just give you a fine send-off.”

“How many days’ ride to Philadelphia from Pitt?” Westfall asked, taking out his pipe.

“If we go hard, four sleeps—days.” Clay righted himself after lapsing into the Lenape mind-set as he was prone to do when worn down. “But we’ll take our time through the backcountry. Shouldn’t be much trouble that way, given the heavy military presence.”

“You know the best routes, the trails to be chary of.”

“We’ll see Philadelphia before the first frost.” He looked to Tessa, who gave him a small smile. God help him, he’d be a good husband from the outset. Get her safely to Pitt and then Philly.

He’d not yet given her the locket. The time wasn’t right. Best wait till she was more wholehearted about things, mayhap their wedding day.