“I’m not sure glory’s where he’s headed,” Zadock said, to muted laughter.
A shiver convulsed Tessa, her mind circling to yesterday afternoon. Had the war party passed close by Swan Station, then decided with the presence of so many men at their harvest to keep heading north toward the Clendennins’? Might their misfortune have been her own?
A narrow escape, truly. ’Twas just after she’d fallen into a restless sleep last night, the wolves a-howl, that the warning had come to hurry to the fort. Bleary-eyed, stumbling on the hem of her nightgown as she pitched forward from her bed in haste, she gathered up her garments to dress in the darkness, leaving her hair unbraided and completely forgetting her cap.
The ride through the woods had been a living nightmare, the fracas that caused Cyrus harm so near the fort’s gates a frantic blur. And Clay risked his own life most of all to bury the dead, scouting territory no man wanted, staying up all night, or nearly so, to spell those who couldn’t manage another minute.
Once again the everlasting pull to go east rose like the sun deep within. To be in a place where the man you cared for was busy working a trade and not burying the dead. To say farewell of a morning with no worry he might be scalped by sunset. When the only things that stalked cobbled streets were disease and pickpockets. Not savages, be them red or white, who marauded and burned and betook folks to lonesome, forsaken places.
“You all right?” Ross whispered next to her.
She looked up from staring at her untouched plate. “Nay.”
Her brother’s kindly eyes, so like Pa’s, tore at her too. He was as big-hearted as Jasper was harsh. Seemed like the Almighty might have given them both a more balanced temper.
Westfall appeared in the open doorway, attention on Ma while giving the rest of them a hearty greeting. Had he heard her brothers arguing? They welcomed him in, though the mood stayed somber.
“Best take stock of the good,” Ross told her quietly as more peaceable conversation resumed around them. “I’m all bent up about the Clendennins same as you, but at least they’ve all gone to glory together. Cyrus is still breathing. And not one shot has been fired at the fort.”
She nodded, glad to the heart not to be running hot bullet lead in her apron or spelling a man at the wall. She eyed Jasper as he quit the table. All the ill will in the cabin seemed to vanish with him. “I’m just sore over it all.”
“So am I,” he murmured, before leaving to see how he could lend a hand.
She helped Hester tidy up, her great-aunt all too interested in Ma’s fondness for Westfall as she peppered Tessa with questions. Their sudden courtship seemed to be progressing smoothly despite the dangers. As for Clay, Tessa set thoughts of him aside to tend Cyrus. He was feverish, the poultice they’d applied at daybreak making a mess of the bed linens as he thrashed about.
Lord, heal him, please. No more losses. No more empty places.
She bathed her brother’s damp face with cool spring water, wishing he’d come to himself and take a drink of Hester’s tea. She hadn’t seen his attacker or seen him fall. She’d only been aware of Jasper’s shout to flee and someone slapping the rump of her mare with his reins to send her bolting forward ahead of the fracas.
’Twas a miracle they’d not fared worse, in light of the Clendennins. What horrors Clay had seen. The gray cast to his face last night had to do with all those buryings, surely, though he’d looked unabashedly glad to see her when she rode in.
“How’s Mister Cyrus this morn?” Maddie leaned over Tessa’s shoulder, smiling. Her new bloom couldn’t be denied. For a moment Tessa was more taken by Maddie’s glow than her brother’s plight.
“He’s feverish.” The lament in Tessa’s voice caused a crease in Maddie’s brow. “In need of Keturah’s medicine.”
With a nod, Maddie held up boneset to break a fever, raising Tessa’s hopes. She canted her gaze toward the sunrise beyond the open door. “What’s happening out there?”
“Calm as the Sabbath,” Maddie returned. “Spies that came in at dawn brought no ill news, no more sightings. Tracks lead north toward the Ohio country, is all.”
“How long are we to fort up then?”
“Best ask Clay.” Maddie gave her a knowing smile. “But he’s in no mood to say goodbye to you just yet.”
Ever mindful of Hester, Tessa lowered her voice. “What do you mean?”
“Your brothers—Lemuel, mainly—is already wanting to return home. He’s not alone. But Clay’s urging caution. He’s yet to recover from seeing you fly to the fort with Indians at your back.”
“We’ve got to leave sooner than later. It goes hard on the men to be away at summer’s peak.”
With Tessa’s help, Maddie tied a strip of cloth around Cyrus’s middle, binding the wound with boneset as tight as she could.
The hum of background voices ceased, and Tessa looked up to find Hester, Ma, and Westfall gone. “I have a feeling the Swan household is about to go arsy-varsy.”
Maddie’s chuckle was low in her throat. “I heard some tittle-tattle about your ma and a certain widower, aye.”
“I have this feeling Ma is going to be wed before long.” Letting loose a sigh, Tessa spoke what weighted her. “And since Westfall isn’t about to leave his land, that means I’m the only woman to look after five men.”
“Let your brothers look after themselves. Might inspire them to find wives to do for them.”
