On the third day, twenty-eight miles into the journey, the calendar seemed to turn back to winter and the heavens opened, unleashing a cold, drenching rain. Rhys ordered the party down an open, barren hill to lower ground where bushes and small trees offered some shelter. Egg-size hail rattled down in a ferocious wind, sending Copper into a frantic spin.
Rhys leaned low in the saddle, his firm commands lost in the barrage of rough weather. As he grappled for control, his gaze went wide and took in Mae, lost in her own battle with Orion, who had all but trampled two men in a bolt for the trees. At the sight of her frantic features, all his usual precautions flew from his head. Sliding to the muddy ground, reins fisted, Rhys tugged a panicked Copper in the same direction, his gaze never leaving Mae as the orderly army turned chaotic.
Orion half unseated Mae as he reared and shrilly screamed his fear. She gripped the saddle horn as her hat took wing, and its pale green veil caught in a branch. He caught her before she hit theground and helped her beneath a big oak. A gash glowered on her cheek as she looked up at him, water dripping from her hairline and the tip of her nose.
He forgot his own soaked state as she dug for her handkerchief. Taking it from her, he removed the blood from her cheek as gently as he could while Orion lowered his head, his ears no longer pinned back in distress. Soon Bohannon appeared, took hold of his reins, and spoke in a soothing voice.
As quickly as it came the storm rolled away, hail pebbling the mud where they stood. Rhys felt the icy lumps beneath the soles of his boots.
“Thank heavens it wasn’t the British and their Indian allies,” Mae said, taking back the stained handkerchief. “I’ve never seen Orion so startled. But where’s Coralie?”
“Underneath the wagon.” Bohannon gestured toward the edge of the trees where it rested, their sister huddled there.
Her gaze returned to Rhys. “Are you all right? Your horse?”
“Copper bolted but he’ll return.” He took a few steps back and tugged her hat and veil free of the branches. “I’m all right, but I can’t say the same about this.”
“Thank you, but it’s rather old and bedraggled, anyway.” She wrung it free of water before replacing it atop her thoroughly wet head. “My late mother’s, in fact.”
He grew quiet, savoring the relief of the moment. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met who looks just as beautiful drenched as dry.”
She smiled, but she was clearly shaken. Leaving Chatham had taken a toll. She wasn’t made for this sort of roughness, though she was making the best of it. Her sister, on the other hand, had gotten into some sort of scrape with the officers’ wives earlier, though he didn’t know the details nor want to.
“We’re nearly halfway there.” Halfway stretched the truth, but he wanted to see the light return to her eyes.
“Miles are of little consequence to me. I’d go to Canada andback for you, General Harlow.” With that, she moved past him to see to her sister.
The evening turned so chilly that fires were lit to dry them all out. Mae stretched her hands toward the feeble flames even as insects bedeviled her through the greenwood’s smoke. A reminder of all the seasoned oak and hickory in their woodshed that burned brilliantly and hotly.
Coralie sat beside her, coughing amid the smoke. “I tell you, if the high-and-mighty Mrs. Kersey refers to us as camp followers again, I’m going to—”
“Shush,” Mae replied under her breath. “What does it matter when we know we’re not?”
“It still stings.”
“Your pride suffers, you mean.”
“And yours doesn’t?”
Mae took a sip of tepid tea and swallowed down an answer. They’d run out of the victuals they’d brought, and her stomach rumbled for more than the soldierly ration of jerked meat and dried corn. Fort Montgomery’s fare might not be much better, but Jon’s wife was a seasoned cook, their bountiful gardens mentioned in letters. Mae pinned her hungry thoughts on that as Coralie stared into her cup with a wince.
“What is this strange root called again?”
“Ginseng,” Mae told her. “Aaron keeps a supply of it at the apothecary, remember. Good for reviving the body.”
“I don’t feel revived. I feel enraged.” Coralie looked around at the hunkered-down camp. “You would think we ladies, being so outnumbered, would band together and form some sort of bond.”
“Why? We’ll probably never see them again after this. Think of all that awaits you instead.”
Coralie tossed her tea into the damp grass. “I can’t think of the future when the present is so frightful.”
“Frightful because we’ve spent so much of our lives living comfortably that anything else is a trial and temptation for us?” Mae pushed back a loose strand of hair. “So far it’s been a bit of heat and dirt and discomfort. Thankfully the hailstorm has passed, which was the worst of it.”
“I beg to differ. Did you see that serpent one of the riflemen killed? Two feet long and rattling like a box of bones. A timber rattlesnake, he called it.”
“James told me to beware when using the woods as a necessary.” Mae shuddered, feeling the pressing need to perform that now-frightening task once again. “We’re moving into the mountains and out of the foothills. Even the air seems different.”
“Harder to breathe, you mean. My chesthurts.” Coralie looked as worn as Mae felt. “I wonder if we’ll live to see Jon and Joanna and their children. Since we’ve not yet met them all, they’re a muddle in my mind.”
