Sitting on the grass, she flipped his blanket over it and then proceeded to clean up the child. She used one of the several buckets of water she had brought to clean up his soiled cloth and set it aside before putting a fresh one on him. Fetching a bottle of goat’s milk from another bucket she proceeded to feed the baby, as much to keep him quiet as because it was about that time. She noticed that the goat she had finally decided to take with them had walked out from under the wagon and was feasting on a bush. Once the child was done she hastily rubbed his back to get the air out while trying to keep his mouth against her shoulder so, if he burped, the sound would be muffled.
Settling the baby back in his bed, she tended to Matthew’s wounds as she struggled to keep herself below the sides of the wagon bed. Nothing had appeared yet, but James was keeping a very close watch on the road, his rifle at the ready. Even Boyd was watching, holding a pistol in his good hand.
“James has a knack. My mother would call it the sight. If he said something was coming, it is,” said Matthew.
“A good skill if you are going into the army, I suppose,” she whispered back then tensed as she heard hoof beats.
“It has certainly served us well.”
She watched as the men she had heard rode into view. There were eight of them and they rode along silently. The way they kept such a close watch all around them made her nervous, but they did not appear to notice the wagon and George was behaving. She glanced down at the horse and realized he had decided to have a nice nap.
She then glanced toward the goat and tensed. It was too small to be seen but the bush it was chomping on was moving a lot and might be visible. She crept to the back edge of the wagon and grabbed the animal’s tether then paused. If she pulled the animal away there was sure to be some loud protest.
Before she could decide if she would take that chance, it proved unnecessary. It was not the stubborn goat who alerted the men to where they were but the baby. Jeremiah suddenly let out a loud wail, demanding attention. He got it. All eight men on the road turned their way and raised their weapons. She suspected the only thing holding them back from shooting was the fact that it was a baby’s cry.
James backed up and disappeared into the trees. As he passed her, he whispered he would be watching but for her to act like a distraught mother. Boyd faded away with him. Abigail covered Matthew with everything she could and set the crate Jeremiah was in on his chest, praying it would be disguise enough. Then she picked up the baby and rubbed at his back.
Cautiously two men came over to her. Abigail was terrified and found that made her mad. It was a curious reaction to fear but she held to it, needing the burst of strength it gave her. The goat moved to chew on the tall one’s coat and he aimed his gun at it.
“Don’t you dare shoot my child’s source of food,” she snapped.
“He’s eating my damn coat!”
“You can just push him aside. He isn’t even a big goat.”
“What the hell are you doing out here?” asked the short stout one she felt sure was an officer.
“There is no need to be profane, sir,” she said, trying to sound like Mrs. Beaton at her haughtiest. “I have stopped to feed my babe. I just changed him.”
“Where are you going?” he asked, speaking slowly as if she was particularly stupid, and she frowned.
“I am going away from here, which obviously is a place filled with fools with guns,” she said in the same tone of voice, and thought she may have been too sassy because he scowled at her and his knuckles whitened with the grip he had on his gun.
“Well, don’t stay here for long. Get yourself someplace safe.” He headed back to the road, and after shooting her a glare the other two men followed him.
Abigail did not breathe a sigh of relief until the men kicked their mounts into a trot and disappeared down the road. She then looked back and saw James and Boyd come out of the trees. Still clutching Jeremiah, she pulled away the things she had piled on top of Matthew. She met his dark frown with a shrug and a smile.
“Thought you were going to get yourself shot there for a moment,” said James.
“So did I,” she said, and patted her chest over her rapidly beating heart.
“Then why weren’t you a bit more meek and conciliatory?”
“Because they didn’t shoot me the minute they saw me. I assumed they were the sort that had a problem shooting a woman and child.”
“That was a gamble,” muttered Matthew.
“Not a big one,” said James as he helped Boyd get back into the seat. “When they aren’t in the middle of a fight, the regular soldiers don’t much try to kill women and kids.” He bent down and eased George back up on his feet before leading him to the traces to put him back in harness. “That was a clever thing to get him to do.”
“My da taught him,” Abigail said, feeling an echo of pain. “He is such a big fellow, it is the only way to hide him if you have to.” She put the baby back into his bed, patted George’s neck as she passed him, and climbed back up in the seat to take the reins.
“Here’s hoping those are the only ones we run into,” James said as he mounted and nudged his horse into motion.
Abigail prayed his hope proved sound as she got the wagon back on the road and started to follow James. Soon she was going along smoothly enough that he dropped back behind them and took up watch again. Boyd watched the ground as she drove.
“What are you looking for?” she asked him.
“Just watching to see if they turn off anywhere along here.”
