“Papa taught me. You see, I fell into a creek when I was little and nearly drowned. He knew how to swim and decided that I should know as well. I, in turn, taught the boys.” She took another sip of tea.
“It was bloody unsettling to watch ye being swept away. I thought those laggards would ne’er get the boat into the river in time.”
“Then I shall teach you how to swim too so that the next time someone falls into a river, I can hold your coat while you hie to the rescue.” She smiled faintly.
Ballard grinned back as he sat down on the edge of the bed again. “Ye shouldnae make light of a mon’s vanity, lass.” More seriously he added, “Aye, I will admit ‘twas a wound to my vanity to be so slow to set after ye. Mostly, though, ‘twas bloody frustrating to watch first Damien then ye go hurtling down the river and ken that I couldnae help ye.”
“You came and got us in the rowboat.”
“Aye, but if ye hadnae grabbed on to that tree branch, the rowboat would have been useless. Ye both could have drowned ere I could reach ye.” He smiled as he took her empty cup and set it aside. “Dinnae frown, lass. I but grumble o’er my uselessness. Nomon likes to accept that he cannae fully protect his family under any and all circumstances. I will eventually recover from this blow to my pride. Ye did fine today and I am fair proud of ye for it. Just allow me to sulk a wee bit.”
“Perhaps you can take comfort in the fact that none of the other men were there to stop our fall either.”
“Oh, I do, lass. I do. ‘Tis bad enough not being able to protect ye meself, but ‘twould be far worse to have to listen to some other mon boasting of how he rescued my wife.” He winked at her when she giggled. “Now ye must rest. I ken weel that ye took a chill. Aye, and I could tell when I pulled ye out that ye had sapped all your strength. We will be landing at Tullyville by close of day tomorrow and I want ye to rest until then, to be sure that ye have nae caught the ague and have regained your strength for the rest of the journey.”
Clover briefly considered arguing, then decided she would be wise to do as he told her. She would take time to pamper herself and prepare for the more arduous part of their journey. As she smiled at Ballard, she prayed that her final destination did not look as destitute as some of the places she had seen so far along the river.
“This is Tullyville?” Clover asked Ballard as they stood on the muddy bank and watched the barge being unloaded. “I had rather thought that thevilleon the end ofTullymeant a settlement.”
“Itisa settlement. ‘Twas settled by Mike Tully andhis friends.” Ballard laughed at her wry look. “‘Tis a new town, lass. ‘Twill grow.”
If it did, Clover hoped it would also improve. Five rough cabins and an assortment of ramshackle sheds lined a muddy, narrow, and badly rutted road. A light breeze wended down the street, carrying the acrid scent of farm animals. She saw only two women, slovenly dressed and leaning on a rail before one of the larger log buildings. Nudging Ballard, she pointed toward it.
“Is that the inn?” she asked uncertainly.
“Aye, but we willnae be staying there. ‘Tis little more than a tavern and brothel. We will take the wagons outside of town a ways and make camp. I dinnae want ye ladies anywhere near these men when they start to tippling.”
Long before the wagons were loaded and the oxen hitched up, Clover was eager to get out of town. The noise from the inn indicated that the men were already getting rowdy. It sounded jovial at the moment, but she knew that that could change quickly. She helped Molly, Agnes, and the boys into the back of a heavy wagon, then joined Ballard on the driver’s seat. Lambert and Shelton each drove another wagon and followed Ballard as he led them out of town.
After only an hour’s journey, they reached the place where Ballard wanted to camp. Despite the short ride, Clover’s backside ached something fierce. Checking to be sure Ballard could not see, she rubbed her sore bottom as she moved to help Molly unpack what they would need to make a meal. She was going to have to put some padding between herself and the hard seat if she wanted to be able to stand when she got to Ballard’s home.
“Now, miss, I want you to make the biscuits tonight,” Molly said as they sat near the fire Shelton had made.
Clover grimaced as she started to mix the biscuit batter. “Are you sure this is wise?”
“You have to start sometime.” Molly hung a heavy kettle over the fire and began to make a venison stew.
“I know. I am just not sure the men will appreciate being tested after such a hard day.”
Molly laughed. “True. We have enough flour, so I will make a small batch too. If yours be cooking up fine, as I am sure they will, ‘twill make no matter. You can never have too many biscuits.”
Cooking over an open fire instead of in an oven made Clover nervous. By the time everyone sat down to eat, she was reluctant to offer her biscuits. They looked fine, but that did not mean they would taste good. She stifled an urge to hide as Ballard tasted one.
“There, lass, I told ye ye would learn how to cook,” Ballard said as he chewed.
Clover sighed with relief and smiled at him, but as the meal continued she began to doubt his word. He drank a lot of water from his canteen and even let a biscuit soak in his stew until it was dripping with gravy. Shelton and Lambert watched him for a moment before each choosing Molly’s biscuits instead. Clover tasted one of her own. It was edible but just barely—dry and far too salty.
She felt a sharp pang of disappointment and embarrassment. Before they had married, she had told Ballard that she was no cook. Mistakes were common when learning a new skill. As Ballard doggedly took another of her biscuits, she almost smiled. He was being such a gentleman, trying to salve her prideand her feelings, but she could not let him suffer any longer.
“Ballard,” she said, and almost laughed when he coughed a little and took a few hearty swigs of water to wash the dry biscuit from his mouth. “Are my biscuits really all right?”
“Oh, aye, lassie. Just fine.”
“You do know that, if I believe you, I will stop practicing.” She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the arrested look on his face. “I will think that I now know how to make good biscuits, and I will go on to master something else. So you should be very careful about giving such a good opinion so quickly. It could mean that you eat biscuits that taste like that for the rest of your life.”
“The rest of my life?” he murmured as he stared at the half-eaten biscuit in his hand.
“Yes. After all, why should I try to improve upon perfection?”
