“Will a search party be sent?”
Candace’s plump shoulders rose and fell as the men’s voices mounted. Pain had ever sharpened her temper, causing her to fling a rebuke over her shoulder. “Have a care, gentlemen! Will you not take your squabbling out of doors?”
The offended silence might have found her pilloried for insolence save for her grief. Without another word, the men betook themselves outside through the open door into sweltering sunlight.
Selah shifted beneath the linen sheet and watched her mother move slowly about the house as if lost, touching this or that. Her father’s beaver hat. His keys hanging on a nail near the door. His pipe and tobacco pouch. The toy flute he’d given Watseka.
Her heart burst anew as she watched her father being laid out upon a settle in the parlor. Bitter sobs she tried to choke down burned her throat before filling the still room and her ears.
The terrible sight was blocked by the return of Nurse Lineboro, who sighed and touched her brow as if she had a headache. “I am to sit by your side, the physic says.”
The men were still outside, the sheriff’s voice foremost. She thought she’d heard McCaskey’s voice, but all was ajumble in her mind. The grief that pressed down on her ebbed, if only for a moment. Laurent’s presence most concerned her.
“Please tell the factor I must speak with him.” Why washer breath coming so hard? Her voice so winded and strange? Had Laurent given her something and she was unaware of it? “Watseka must be found.”
“Such seems the least of your worries.” A crease marred Nurse Lineboro’s brow. “I do think she’s run off, as the sheriff says. Such a wild little thing. One would think you’d be glad.”
Glad? Had she no knowledge of what Watseka’s absence spelled? The grim consequences? “Please summon the factor now.”
Nurse Lineboro, used to obeying orders, did as she was bade. Outside came the sound of departing horses.
Soon McCaskey drew up a chair where Selah lay. “Tell me again what happened this morn.”
With effort, Selah recounted her rising before first light and finding Watseka missing, the commotion outside, the fateful moment she’d rushed into the yard with her father following. A nightmare from which she wanted to shake herself awake.
Selah set her jaw against her throbbing arm. “What is the sheriff saying about Watseka?”
“Very little.”
“Will there be a search party?”
“Nay. The men cannot be spared from the harvest and other responsibilities.”
“Will word be sent to the Powhatans about Watseka being taken?”
McCaskey shook his head. “The consensus is she has not been taken but has run away.”
“She has not run. I would swear to it. ’Twas a horse I heard in the woods behind the stable and kitchen. Surely that speaks of foul play.”
“The officials advise waiting till Renick returns and they hear his voice in the matter.”
“’Twill be too late. She may be hurt, suffering—”
“And you would have me, a lowly Scot, take on all Virginia as to how things should proceed.” The thinly veiled mockery in McCaskey’s eyes told her he knew them for what they were—pretentious, petty men who would waste no more time searching for an Indian girl than they would a stray animal.
“Do they think Chief Opechancanough will respond kindly when he learns we did not even hazard a search for his kin?” Selah hissed. “Perchance the Powhatans shall come down on us in retaliation and without warning, as they once did, when scores died by fire and hatchet. Will these officials not count the cost of their indifference? Their arrogance?”
The unusual ire in her voice returned Candace to the bedchamber. “Daughter, take heart. The sheriff did say he will appoint an armed musketeer to watch over us till we women determine what we shall do next. For now, the passing bell will toll in James Towne to announce your father’s death. I shall begin sewing his woolen winding-cloth.” She took a deep breath, tears close. “Needs be we return downriver as soon as possible.”
34
Laurent returned on the morrow.
’Twas all Selah could do not to lambaste him as he entered the fragile sanctity of their home. A musketeer was outside, his presence providing small security. As it was, Selah regarded the physic coldly and silently as he approached with his portmanteau.
“And how is Mistress Hopewell today?” he asked, coming to stand over her as she reclined upon her parents’ bed.
“I have no need of your services, sir.”
