“Clay has some fine city kin. You’ll feel like a queen among those wealthy Quakers. Friends come by their name on purpose. They’re hospitable folk, mostly. Clay’s kin especially.”
“I don’t have the slightest notion how to act, what to say.” Would these fine Quakers be shocked if she came unadorned? “If I had some proper clothes . . . manners.”
“Come town, Clay will see you dressed proper. As for your manners, they’re in no need of altering. If he’d wanted a town-bred girl he’d have married one. Just stay true to yourself.”
The reassurance bolstered her for what felt more hurdle than honeymoon. Trying to overcome her lethargy, Tessa poured herself another cup of tea, as the beverage braced her. “Pray we get there safe and sound.”
Thus far Maddie had steered clear of any talk about Ross or Jasper. Heartsick as she was over them, Tessa feared she’d burst into tears at the mention. She fixed her gaze on her chest of pretty things. Where was her joy? Her anticipation? It had gone north with Ross, been buried with Jasper. Ross had always teased her about marrying, said he’d dance the night through. Jasper had promised to take Pa’s place and give her away.
She unwound the bandage from her hand. Almost mended. Clay’s head wound was still cause for concern. A fine pair they were, beat to pieces by what they’d been through, drained to the dregs with hardly a word of comfort to share between them. They were free to leave the valley, but Tessa sensed she wasn’t the sole reason they were going. Something had shaken Clay so that it seemed he was as ready to leave as she.
Having breakfasted and dressed, she helped Ma and Hester gather her belongings into saddlebags. Clay had already readied Bolt and a packhorse near the gates. She longed to go to him. Touch him. Comfort him as only she could. But his hands remained at his sides, as did hers. She couldn’t recall the last time he’d embraced her. Kissed her.
The distance chafed. Yet she had no heart for any sweetness, for kisses or sentimental words. Sharp-witted as he was, that didn’t escape him. He kept his own counsel, simply talking, not touching. Somehow it seemed wrong to make merry when so much had gone wrong.
He approached her, a new hat in hand. “Tessa . . . You’re sure about this?”
Was she?
“Never surer, Clay,” she finally heard herself say, setting her jaw for the farewells at hand.
Her family ringed her, their faces a study of emotions. Save Ma, never had she seen them cry, not even at Pa’s passing. Tears stood in Zadock’s eyes while Lemuel hung his head. Tessa embraced Cyrus first as he stood closest, his thickset arms holding her for several long moments, his face pressed against her shoulder. Hester, long schooled in life’s miseries, simply thrust a handkerchief into Tessa’s hand, her cherished dream finally realized. Ma was nearly undone by the sight of her tender sons.
’Twas not just their sister’s leave-taking they cried for, but Jasper’s and Ross’s as well, Tessa knew. Ruth and other fort dwellers soon joined them, wishing them well and offering a prayer for safe travels.
Drying her eyes, Tessa finally mounted Blossom and held the reins with her good hand while Clay bade goodbye to the officer now in charge.
“Be sure and write when you get to Pitt,” Hester admonished. “And then Philly. We won’t rest till we know you’re there unscathed.”
With a wave of his hand, Clay led them out Fort Tygart’s gates, a new burden settling on Tessa’s shoulders. Would they ever see the garrison again?
By the time they’d cleared the Buckhannon Valley, their party of two had swelled to twelve. A wounded soldier and a chance meeting with a family of six fleeing their homestead both slowed and changed the tenor of their party. There was safety in numbers and added guns, and now Tessa had feminine company, given the wife and daughters among them. She seemed glad of their presence, and Clay made his own peace with it, realizing the Almighty might well be hedging them in, though not one Indian did they see.
In a hundred miles the trees thinned, and evidence abounded that the white tide of settlement was subduing the wilderness league by league in a relentless advance. Endless acres of winter wheat and fences now crisscrossed the landscape, the forts they saw looking out of place, rustic oddities in a land becoming so firmly settled.
His own land along the Monongahela was not far but didn’t warrant a closer look with such a large party. Still, he made note of the ridge and stream that led to it in his own private thoughts, glad to the heart to have something to show for his stint in so long a war.
On the outskirts of Fort Pitt, he drew an easier breath as they parted with the group and entered town as a couple, intent on finding a pastor to unite them in holy matrimony with little ado.
Riding alongside him, Tessa seemed a bit wide-eyed, reminding him of his first time at the unruly outpost. “If it’s any solace, Pitt bears no resemblance to Philly. Word is the fort is about to be decommissioned.”
“So, we’ll not lodge inside its walls?”
“Nay, farther north along the Monongahela River. Semple’s is the best lodging hereabouts. They have a few amenities you might like.” He’d say no more. Best let Semple’s speak for itself.
A finer day couldn’t be had, the river as blue and placid as he’d ever seen it, the town’s more sordid corners brightened by sunlight.
“This is where you met up with Keturah,” she said.
It wasn’t a question. He simply nodded, hoping the mention didn’t usher in dark thoughts. “As you can see, there are many Indians here from various tribes. They come to trade, treat, and make merry, among other things.”
She took in the color and confusion on all sides of her. Pitt always seemed like an unending fair, muddy and sprawling and uncivilized with a great many sounds and smells, oft obnoxious and unwelcome but never boring.
They dismounted near Semple’s stable, the tavern’s door and windows open wide on such a clear day. As Clay led Tessa through a side entry, Mistress Semple herself met them.
She dismissed Clay in a glance, her shrewd gaze on Tessa. “Well, Colonel Tygart, I see you are in fine company today!”
Her hearty welcome made Tessa smile, while he himself managed to say with a beat of pride, “This is Miss Tessa Swan, my intended from the Buckhannon River country.”
