CHAPTER 1
May 14, 1782—Green County, Kentucky
Keturah Elliot’s heart seized as the vicious waters swallowed her mother whole.
“Ma!” Her brother Duncan’s deep voice echoed in her ears before he ran past her, his dark hair a blur as he dove into the churning river.
Nay!Her mind screamed the word, but her tongue remained as frozen as the rest of her body. Her feet were glued to the rocky bank beneath her as she stood, helpless, as her only sibling was consumed as well. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she watched and waited. But neither her mother nor her brother ever emerged again.
A hand at her elbow pulled Keturah from thememory. She blinked past her tears to focus on the fresh mound of dirt that marked her father’s grave. She swallowed the lump in her throat as his words from that day came back to her.’Tis all yer fault. We ne’er shoulda crossed.
After unclenching her jaw, Keturah turned and offered her only friend in the world the barest of smiles. “Thank ye for comin’.” Her voice rasped more than she would have liked it to as she included Margaret’s husband, Iain, in her nod. Their home was a day and a half’s journey from hers on foot, but when she had shown up at their door, they immediately leapt to her aid. If it were not for Iain, she did not know how she would have pulled her father’s body from the battered barn or buried him. Dugan Elliot had been an exceedingly large man, as broad as he was tall.
“Ma.” A quiet little voice drew Keturah’s attention to the dark-headed toddler nestled within Margaret’s petticoats. “Me play?” His bright blue eyes petitioned his mother along with his words, drawing a grin from both women.
Iain spoke up. “Why dinnae we go hunt up Miss Blair some more wood for her wood pile?”
“Aye.” The boy’s face lit up, and he quickly abandoned his post for his father’s outstretched hand.
Margaret shot a grateful glance at her husband before she wrapped an arm around Keturah’s shoulders and urged her toward the large double-pen cabin thatstood at the edge of the meadow. Much like the now-caved-in barn beside it, it was far too sizeable for only her and her father. But the man had been bent on building up the grandest homestead in Kentucky. Instead, a tornado had claimed both him and the barn.
Keturah frowned at the mangled remnants of the building before Margaret ushered her inside.Lord, what am I to do now?
In the mere four days since her father’s passing, Keturah had run over scenario after scenario in her mind. Yet she balked at the one solution that kept coming to mind.
While Keturah settled on the bench beside the long dining table, Margaret hung a kettle and stoked the fire in the massive stone fireplace. The fireplace was built of stones that she and her father had collected from the countless nearby streams. It had taken ages to acquire enough for the massive structure, but she had to admit, it had been well worth the effort. Her mother would have loved the natural beauty of the hearth.
“We will have tea directly,” Margaret informed her with a gentle smile as she came to settle across from Keturah.
“What am I goin’ to do?” The words tumbled out of her before she had a chance to stop them. While she did not wish to appear weak, there was no denying that her situation was precarious.
Margaret’s mouth pressed into a line. “I have seenfirsthand how dangerous it can be for a woman alone in this wilderness, an’ I think ye should come an’ stay with me an’ Iain.”
Keturah’s gaze jerked to the other woman’s face. “Nay. I cannae lose this farm.” Her heart kicked up a notch, pounding in her chest.
Though she and her father rarely saw eye to eye, they had put too much time and energy into settling the land for her to walk away. Nay, she could not fail. With no one left to help her father, he had counted on her labor in addition to expecting all the normal women’s chores to be completed. The land around them had been watered with her blood, sweat, and tears multiple times over, and she would not see it gone in a single storm. Tension coiled in her shoulders.
Margaret’s hand covered hers. “I know how hard it would be to leave, but I believe it to be for the best.” When Keturah looked up, compassion and concern shone in her friend’s eyes. Margaret had her best interests at heart—of that, she was sure. And she spoke from experience, having been the victim of a brutal attack that sent her away from her own home to the safety of a fort for some time. But there had to be another way.
Sensing her hesitation, Margaret amended her statement. “If ye will not leave, we will come an’ help ye as we can.”
Keturah nodded but closed her eyes, praying for some option she had yet to consider. Again, a nagging voice within her offered up the same solution she hadtamped down countless times. But this time, it seemed to echo within her mind, refusing to be pushed away. She glanced heavenward, where a dark ceiling greeted her. This could not be the Lord’s will.
Yet the urging did not waver. Keturah heaved a sigh and released the words that had been rolling around in her mind. “I have to take a husband.”
Across from her, Margaret sucked in a breath. “Yer sure?”
Nay, she was not. Unease swirled in her stomach at the thought. What if the man turned out to be as callous and controlling as her father? But, to keep the land, the home she and her father had built with their own hands, it seemed to be the only viable solution. Surely, she could find someone she could tolerate working alongside. She forced her chin to dip in confirmation.
“Do ye have someone in mind?”
Keturah’s shoulders sagged. “Nay. But James Skaggs’s Station is barely a day’s travel from here, an’ I suspect there should be some single men around there.”
Margaret’s eyes widened before she seemed to think through her answer. She gave a nod before she stood and picked up a towel. After moving over to the hearth, she lifted the kettle from its hook and brought it over to prepare their tea. She stood at the end of the table, hands braced against the sturdy wood as steam wafted from the two cups in front of her, swirling upward infront of her deep-orange dress. “The Lord can bless a marriage of convenience. After all, me an’ Iain are livin’ proof of that. As yer friend, though, it concerns me, ye marryin’ a man ye dinnae know. Me an’ Iain would be more than willin’ to travel with ye to the station.”
Keturah shook her head. “Nay. I have to do this on me own. I traveled to get ye an’ Iain on me own before, an’ this is not near as far. All will be well.” Was she trying to convince Margaret or herself?
Her friend came around the table and clasped a reassuring hand on her arm as she placed a cup of tea before her. “Then we will pray. Pray that God provides ye with a good, lovin’ husband. A man of faith.”
