“What on earth?” Coralie stopped walking. “I was expecting Continental soldiers, not—”
“The Americans’ ablest scouts and guides are Indians.” Mae continued walking despite her sister’s nails digging into her forearm.
Jon came across the fort’s parade ground, his pleasure evident at finding them up and ready to depart. At Coralie’s questioning, he explained, “These are Oneida allies who’ll accompany us to the farm before continuing further up the Hudson on a foray.”
With a few last-minute orders, horses were saddled and brought round as everyone readied to ride out, Orion having been reshod. Only the Indian escort was on foot. The sun crested over the fort’s eastern wall as the main gates were opened by sentries. The solewagon carrying their baggage rolled down the sloped embankment into the forest behind the mounted riders.
No one spoke as birdsong pierced the dawn. Silence seemed the language of the woods, at least in wartime. Perhaps the sights and sounds of the Hudson Highlands were best savored in quiet.
Before they’d gone a quarter of a mile, Mae wished she could dismount and gather the bounty she saw. Grapevines clung to tree trunks while milkwood and moss grew in pink and green bursts. Blue and purple irises crowded creek banks while wildflowers she had no name for brightened the narrow, sunlit valley. Again, so different from Jersey, the only place she’d ever known. She could see why Jon had chosen to expend his labor and life here. Was Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley as beautiful?
In a quarter of an hour she spied a stone house, a large fenced garden at its back. Children went about their chores to the barn and chicken house and stable. An apron-clad woman appeared on the porch, shielding her eyes from the sun as she faced the party coming toward her. Joanna?
“The Bohannon homestead,” Jon said with pride.
Mae looked at Rhys, who’d come to a halt, the reins slack in his hands. Was he thinking of the house he’d built far from here? Rather, was he missing it and wanting to resume a normal life beyond the shadow of war?
With a start she realized their Indian escort had melted away into the woods. Rhys dismounted and helped her down as Joanna and the children hurried toward them—all flaxen-haired and green-eyed. Alexander, the eldest son, was now equal to Jon in height while Bennett, Cassandra, Dierdre, and Euphemie were smaller versions of their mother and eldest brother.
“Our Jersey kin, can it be?” Joanna hugged Mae and Coralie at the same time, her ample frame making Mae wonder about another Bohannon. “With all that’s happening I despaired of ever seeing you again!”
The children eyed them shyly, unused to the notion of two auntsor an Uncle James. Mae couldn’t recall if Joanna had family near. Rhys tousled the hair of the youngest boy while Mae fastened her eyes on tiny Euphemie. Phemie, they called her.
“And James? Look at you—a Continental officer!” Joanna said. She turned to Rhys once introductions were made. “General Harlow, we’ve just gathered the eggs so we’ll have breakfast. Plenty of bacon, fried potatoes, and toast to go around.”
Mae couldn’t imagine feeding all the childrenandguests, but Joanna acted as though it was an everyday occurrence. The smallest of her brood skipped toward the house and held the door open wide, inviting them in. Mannerly, all of them. Even Coralie looked charmed.
Nay, this wasn’t Chatham, but the house was spacious and well-kept. Folded quilts brightened an enormous cupboard, and one of the largest hearths Mae had ever seen anchored the main room, a framed if faded painting of a ship over the mantel. Jon and Joanna had done well carving a home out of the wilderness.
The table was made of the same boards as the floor, large enough for all of them to gather round. A pitcher of the flowers Mae had seen behind the garden fence graced the center. She met Rhys’s eyes as a flush stole over her and left her wishing this was their table. Their children.
“We’ve a room ready for you two sisters,” Joanna was saying as she began serving. “Top of the stairs. After breakfast we’ll bring your belongings in and get you settled. I’m so thankful you’re here. We keep hearing reports that Jersey is naught but a battleground.”
“But is New York any safer?” Coralie asked as she buttered her bread.
“With so many newly built American garrisons along the Hudson, aye.” Jon winked at her. “Were you loath to leave Fort Chatham?”
“True, we had no such defense there,” Coralie admitted with a smile. “I do wonder how long General Washington will remain.”
“He’s just moved his headquarters to Middlebrook, south ofMorristown,” James said. “Though by now he might be on his way north to join us here along the Hudson. The Jersey militia has forced the British out of the colo—state—as the British have failed in their efforts to win most residents back to the Crown.”
Hopeful, Mae sat as quietly as the children. Might this be the time for Coralie to share her plans? Since she’d apologized to James and he her, perhaps the next discussion would be less charged. But Coralie simply continued to sip her coffee as talk turned to Jon’s fields and the oxen he’d recently driven home from market, and what was happening in the valley.
Once they’d eaten, Mae helped with the dishes while the men went outside. When she emerged from the house, she found Rhys with Copper in the pasture ahead of his return to the fort. He approached her, hat in hands, the black cockade catching her eye with its decorative knot of silk ribbon.
“So, Miss Bohannon, may I see you the next Sabbath?”
“You may, General Harlow.”
He studied her thoughtfully. “You seem ... preoccupied.”
“I’m just trying to come to terms with being here, so different than Jersey.”
“You’re missing Chatham.”
“Is it so telling?”
“Only by someone who’s made a study of you.”
