Tavish knew at once, knew before a word was spoken, that the hand that came and rested on his shoulder belonged to his father.
“Son.” There was a catch in Logan’s throat and he stopped to clear it before trying to say anything more.
“Dad!” Tavish stood and turned toward the sound. He felt his father’s strong arms clasp him and draw him into a firm hug. Tavish clenched his jaw and fought off the tears that threatened, unaware that his father was waging a similar battle.
“Is there any news of your Uncle William?” Logan asked once he could speak.
“Nothing. But men have been coming in from the woods daily.”
“I pray that he may yet be found alive,” Logan said.
Tavish murmured in agreement and then asked, “Skye? And Hannah?”
“Safe,” Logan answered. “We were taken to Chatham the day after the fire, and Stewart made it across the same day he left you and Collin.”
“So you’ve heard ... about Aunt Susan and the boys?”
“Yes, Stewart told us all of it. Where is Collin now?”
“Working with some of the other men. They’ve finished with burying the dead, though it looks as though there will soon be others.” Tavish stopped speaking as he seemed to remember something. He leaned down, his hands circling the air around him until one fell on a small form to his right.
“This child’s mother died the night before last, and she herself isn’t well. Uncle Collin brought the little one to me that morning. I’ve kept her nearby and done what I could for her while the others are off doing whatever can be done out there — clearing away the rubble and looking for food. The child needs a doctor, but there’s none to be had.”
Logan looked down at the girl. She was dreadfully thin and was clothed only in a nightdress. Badly matted brown hair framed a nearly translucent face. “Does she eat?” he asked.
“Very little. She seems hungry enough when there’s food to be had, but after a few morsels she lies back down and sleeps. I don’t think she has the strength to manage more than a bite or two at a time.”
“Eight, though the poor waif is so small you’d never think it. She’s very timid, but I managed to get that much out of her yesterday. And she told me her name is Laura Blake and that she has two sisters and a brother, but I’ve no idea where the rest of her family might be. It was only her and her mother here.”
“Perhaps the family was separated and the others have made their way to Chatham, as happened with us,” Logan said.
“Yes, that could have happened,” Tavish agreed. “If so, I hope someone comes along and claims the child soon. It might pick her spirits up to be with family.”
Logan heard the heaviness and concern in his son’s voice and knew that Tavish feared the little girl would die. By the sight of her, it was a legitimate worry. “She looks cold,” he said.
“There’s nothing to put over her,” Tavish told him. “What few coverings there are have already been taken by others in no better condition.”
“At least she’s inside,” Logan said. “There are still whole families here and there, huddled under rough shelters that hardly keep out the wind, much less the cold — and with no more than the scantest garments to cover them. They’ll not survive much longer if they don’t soon get help.”
Tavish said nothing to this. As the days grew ever colder, he had been thinking of how it would be when the fierceness of winter came, when blizzards howled and raged and even the snuggest of homes couldn’t keep the icy wind from penetrating. At such times the cold crept through walls and seemed to pierce right to their very bones.
And that was when they were warmly dressed in the daytime and covered with heavy blankets and furs at night — when their bodies were properly fuelled with plenty to eat. Tavish had begun to wonder how any of them would survive much longer.
“But help has been sent for,” Logan said then, as though he’d read his son’s mind. “Word of our situation has gone out to His Excellency, Lieutenant-Governor Douglas, and to other parts of New Brunswick, as well as Nova Scotia.”
“And what can they do for us?” Tavish asked.
“That remains to be seen,” Logan said simply. “But a vessel has already come with some food and clothing.”
“I heard of this,” Tavish said, “but we saw nothing from it.”
“The need is so great everywhere,” his father answered. “I’m told that its supplies were used up in a flash. But more will be on the way.”
“Then I pray it gets here before this child dies for want of food and something to cover her,” Tavish said, waving a hand in the direction of where the little girl lay.
As though he had cued her, Laura stirred and let out a feeble whimper. She sat up and leaned toward Tavish, looking at him pitifully. He reached a hand toward her and, after a slight hesitation, she laid her own in it. His fingers closed around hers and the frail smallness of her fingers filled him with despair.
He felt in his heart that she would die and his helplessness to do anything about it overwhelmed him with sadness.
“I’m hungry,” Laura said, her voice as tiny as her frame.
“Soon,” Tavish told her. “Soon someone will come with food.”
But Logan reached into the breast of his shirt and drew out a package that he’d concealed there. It held bread and pork and cheese, which Mrs. Chapman had wrapped and insisted he take with him for his son and brother. He broke off a piece of bread, into which he pressed a little cheese, and gave it to the child, placing it gently in her free hand.
Laura had eaten her bread and cheese and lain down once again by the time some of the others began to return to the little house. A few fish were brought in and these were quickly cooked and divided into small portions among those present.
Collin Haverill came in alone just as dusk was falling. Weary from a day of labouring on an empty stomach, he had almost crossed the room to where Tavish sat before Logan’s presence registered with him.
The brothers hugged. It was an awkward moment and each was flooded with private thoughts that converged in the bond they’d known since childhood — when Logan had watched out for Collin, who looked up to him in turn with a kind of hero worship.
Now, the guilt of having been spared made Logan ashamed, as though he had somehow orchestrated his own family’s survival at Collin’s expense. It was nonsense, of course, but he felt it just the same.
For his part, Collin was torn between genuine happiness in knowing his brother’s family was safe and an unwelcome anger that he could not quite define. It wasn’t that he resented Logan’s good fortune, exactly. Rather, a part of him wondered why his own losses had been so complete.
It was something each man would have to work through alone, for neither would ever give voice to his private thoughts and feelings.