27

“How can it not be my fault? I killed him with my own hands.”

Who? Who had Joseph killed?

Far too often in the past week, Hannah had sifted the question through her mind. At first she had told herself he could have been talking about an animal. A hog? A cow? But she knew better. No animal could evoke such horror as she’d sensed in his voice and expression when she’d appeared. No, Joseph had spoken of a man.

The steady plod of Hunter’s hooves on the hard packed road merged with the steady hush of the Hudson River. Hannah rested her hands on the pommel of the saddle, watching Joseph and his long strides. The colonies had been at war with themselves and Britain for well over a half decade—longer here in New England. Of course he’d killed men. He wouldn’t have survived this long if he hadn’t been willing to protect himself and his family.

But this wasn’t just anyone. Daniel must have also known the man.

“Whoa, boy.” Joseph paused as they neared a stream. He glanced to her. “That sun is plenty hot today. Would you like a drink?”

“Please.” Summer had fully arrived in New York, and while nights were much more comfortable, days were not.

Joseph helped her down, handed her the canteen, and then walked with Hunter to the edge of the stream. “What you need is something to keep the sun off your head.”

“That would be nice.” The warm water flowed from the canteen over her parched throat. When her thirst was quenched, she joined him and handed the canteen back.

After taking a drink, Joseph tied it onto the saddle. With a half-smile, he pulled his cocked hat from his head and plopped it on hers. “There you go.”

Fitting large, the hat tipped to one side. Hannah straightened the front point so it lined up with her nose and smiled. “It’s still pretty warm under here.”

“But it suits you. Looks as though you are ready to take the reins of this family. Didn’t you tell me Mohawk people are ruled by their women?”

She took the hat and set it back on his head. “But they still let men be their chiefs.”

“So the woman let the men pretend they are in charge?”

“Precisely.”

“I appreciate that.” A smile stretched across his face, but didn’t reach farther. Not to his eyes. “I shall try to remember who to heed.”

“See that you do.” He could start by telling her what he and Daniel had talked about the morning they’d left Albany—what had returned the haunted look to Joseph’s eyes. The same look he’d worn after he’d told her about Oriskany in the graveyard at Fort Herkimer.

He gently squeezed her arm and then helped her back onto the horse. Again they faced due south and Hannah forced her thoughts to her brother. The closer they came to their destination, the more torturous each mile became. Still pausing to question the location of the Third New York Regiment at every Continental outpost, their journey had taken longer than it should, but soon they would reach White Plains.

Nervous excitement fluttered through her. Almost six years since she’d seen Samuel. Would she even recognize him? How tall had he grown? How much had the war changed the sweet boy she’d loved?

Hannah leaned forward in the saddle. “How much farther now?”

“Should arrive sometime tomorrow morning.” He smiled at her. “Not much farther now.”

They traveled a ways more before pausing to eat, and then resumed their journey. Hannah joined Joseph walking for a while, her legs needing to stretch. And it was nice walking beside him. She got him talking about his Pa and the first years in the valley. Life before, when he had lived with his family on a farm outside of Boston. What had made them leave everything behind to start a new life along the Mohawk?

“It was my fault,” Joseph said with a grunt as though a confession of a crime.

“Your fault?”

“I was restless. Everyone seemed to be heading west, deeper into the frontier and wilderness. Meanwhile, everything back here in the east—all the land already tamed—was quite boring to me.”

Hannah raised her brows at him. “Now you are starting to remind me of my pa.” She had never taken Joseph Garnet as an adventurer. His land and farm seemed all that mattered to him. “What changed?”

He readjusted his hat. “I was seventeen when Pa decided it was better to follow me then lose me. I really believe he would have preferred to stay if he wasn’t so certain I’d leave. Anyway, I was young and full of big ideas about life—” his shoulders slumped as though under a heavy weight. “—before I learned the true cost of life. And taming land.”

She felt his sorrow. Shared it. “I wonder if my pa ever learned that. If he ever realized what adventure cost.”

They walked for a while longer, no one speaking.

The sun arched downward, making its way west—its way home.

“We should probably find a place to make camp,” Joseph finally said.

Hannah looked to the southern horizon. “Do we have to? If we’re so close?”

“We’d have to walk half the night to get there before dawn. What good will that do us? We’d still have to take time to sleep sometime.”

She bumped him with her shoulder. “Maybe you would.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Joseph nudged her in return. “You’re usually snoring long after I get up in the morning.”

Hannah fought the urge to bump him harder. “If you hear snoring, then you’re obviously not awake yet.”

“Ha.” He turned as though he wanted to make another retort, but it broke into a real laugh. “I think I might have to concede that one.”

“You are learning to be wise like your pa.”

Joseph’s blue eyes softened. “I hope so.”

Hannah felt herself tip toward him. Her gaze fell to his mouth. She missed his kisses. Wouldn’t it be within her rights as his wife to steal one now? She brushed her fingertips along his sleeve. “And I’m learning to not fear every adventure…more like my pa.”

Joseph set his hand over hers, but he now looked sad. “You are a lot more like your pa than you might realize.”

“What do you mean?”

“What sort of girl rides with a raiding party, prepared to travel across New England, farther perhaps, on her own? You would not have stopped, even if I hadn’t come along. You would have found a way to find your brothers. And not let anything stop you.”

Hannah wasn’t so sure anymore. She couldn’t imagine coming this far without Joseph. “That makes me like my pa?”

“Yes. Yes, it does. That and your eyes. You have his eyes.”

“You say it as though you remember his eyes.”

Joseph looked away momentarily. “Your mother’s were not so light, were they?”

She chuckled. “No. No they were not.”

Joseph shuffled his boots against the ground. “Your pa meant a lot to you, didn’t he? You loved him?”

“Of course. He was my papa. I never liked when he’d go away, trapping, or to fight for the British, but only because I missed him.” She squeezed Joseph’s hand. “And I think, if not for this war, for your differences in political views, you might have found much you do have in common.” What would Pa have thought of his son-in-law?

She couldn’t imagine him not liking this wonderful man.

~*~

Joseph patted Hannah’s hand and motioned to the south. “Why don’t we go a little farther tonight?” He needed to move again, to put some distance between himself and their conversation.

“All right.” Hannah watched him much too closely.

He ignored the trickle of sweat down his brow and snugged his hat lower. Hunter followed his lead, as did Hannah.

“It really angers you that my pa sided with the British, doesn’t it?” She maintained pace beside him.

Joseph kept walking. Thankfully, she still had no idea what really tore him. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

“Maybe we should.”

No, we shouldn’t. A conversation about allegiances breeched dangerous territory.

“Joseph…” Hannah stopped.

“What?”

“I don’t share Pa’s loyalties. Not to the British. You know that, don’t you? My loyalties have always been to my family.”

Joseph turned back. He couldn’t help himself. “I understand that.”

“Then don’t look at me like Daniel did. Don’t think of me as the Tory’s daughter. I may not understand your cause, or why separating from Britain is so important to you, but I am a Patriot’s wife now. And…and I don’t want to think about the past anymore. This war will end. I want to think about the future.”

He reached out his hand, and she took it. “Me, too.” But how long would they succeed in burying the past? Like smoke on a battlefield, it seemed to linger long after the last shot was fired. Haunting.

Her gentle smile faltered as she looked past him. She let go of his hand. “Are those…?”

Thin chimneys of pale smoke rose above the treed horizon to the southeast. “Campfires.”

“There are so many.”

And more appearing every few seconds. It had to be an army, perhaps a full regiment. But whose?

“What if that’s them? What if Samuel is there?”

“It’s a possibility.” Or it could be the British. New York City was still a British stronghold, and they weren’t far from there.

“Then let’s not wait. They are not far off.”

Only a mile or so. No distance at all. But dark would nearly be upon them by then. “Maybe we should wait.”

She spun to him. “Why?”

“We don’t know who they are.”

“What does it matter? If it’s the British we tell them we are Loyalists. You can let me do the talking. And if they are Continental, then maybe we can find Samuel.”

Joseph still hesitated, but arguing with her would do little good, so he nodded. “Very well. But mount up. I want to get close enough to see what we’re getting into before we lose the light.”