“And how,” Hester queried between smokes, “did the colonel like his breakfast?”
“He made no complaint.”
“A mite crowded in there with Keturah.”
“Nay, Auntie. The blockhouse is room enough for the entire militia.” Sensing what would come next, Tessa added, “I’ll not make his noon meal, mind you.”
A sharp cackle. Oddly, Hester seemed satisfied. “No matter. Plenty of meat left from last night. You might fetch some fresh water. This heat turned yesterday’s brackish.”
Taking two pails near the woodpile, Tessa headed toward the far end of the fort, glad for the welcoming shade of the lone elm by the spring. A few women made small talk as they drew water, children wending between their skirts. A peaceful morn after a frolicsome, abruptly ended night.
For a moment she stood, eyes closed, and savored the morning. Maybe in time, when no more bullet lead or arrows flew, these forbidding pickets would be taken down and used to build a dwelling fit for a family.
“Well, if it ain’t Miss Swan.”
The warm voice turned her around. “Morning, Maddie. Just call me Tessa, aye?”
Maddie smiled, brows raised. “Where’d you disappear to last night? All that dancin’ wear you out?”
“I went to hunt for a book.” Tessa set the water pails down. “Betimes I’d rather read.”
“Who learned you?”
“Keturah’s ma.” In the blur of years she’d almost forgotten.
“Next time you go nosin’ around, try the west blockhouse. Clay has a whole saddlebag of books.”
“Army manuals and such?”
“History books mostly. Poems and novels. From Philly-delphia.”
“Is he jealous of them?”
“Jealous? Meanin’ he won’t share ’em?” Maddie gave a decisive shake of her head. “Clay’s many things, but tightfisted he ain’t.”
High praise. Maddie, she was coming to realize, never said a sorry word about anyone. A rare trait in the fort’s close confines. But might she be in league with Hester, wanting to do a little matchmaking through book borrowing? The fanciful thought was quickly cast aside. Maddie knew better than to foist a woman on Clayton Tygart.
“You two seem on friendly terms. Maybe you could borrow a book for me.” Could Maddie read? Most could only mark an X for their name, her brothers included. “I’m the only Swan who can read and write save Hester.”
“You, Hester, and Clay are the only learned folk I know hereabouts. Oh, and that storekeeper, Mister Cutright.”
Maddie’s admiration gave Tessa a quiet pride. “Where’d Colonel Tygart get his learning?”
“At the Friends School in Philly-delphia.”
Plain folk. She’d almost forgotten. “Quakers?”
A solemn nod. “Clay don’t talk much about it. Was took by Indians before that. Once his kin got him back, he was wild as an unbroke horse, and only the Friends could tame him.”
Another missing piece of the colonel’s history fell into place. All that learning made a fine gloss, yet she still sensed an unbowed beat of wildness beneath his cool courtesy.
“I suppose the Friends did themselves proud.” Tessa bit her lip to stem further praise and began drawing water. Balancing the full-to-the-brim buckets, she bade Maddie good day. “Best hasten back. Come by Hester’s and have some flip with us tonight. We shan’t leave out till morning.”
“All right.” Maddie unwound the yellow handkerchief from about her neck, wet it in the spring, and wrung out the cloth before donning it again.
Tessa set down her buckets and lifted her apron to dab at the sweat beading her own upper lip. Near the front gates, Lemuel sat atop his favored white-stockinged bay horse. Was he going home? She watched him depart with a check in her spirit, yet Lem’s heart for the land was always greater than his fear of Indians. Two days away from the fields meant twice the work on his return.
“Hotter than Hades,” he called to them at the last, lifting his hat in farewell as the gates swung open. “I misdoubt even the Indians are about in this heat.”
