Daniel stopped when they neared and turned back toward the meadow, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Scamper!”
The puppy peeped out of the trees, and when Daniel called again, he shot across the clearing toward them. His little white legs pumped energetically, and his tongue hung from his mouth. With a smile in place, Keturah turned and stepped up onto the porch.
She gasped at the sudden sensation of water splattering against the back of her neck. Her shouldersscrunched up toward her ears before she turned to her husband, who stood beside the barrel of rainwater that sat at the corner of their home.
“I did nothing.” Though he held his hands up in front of his chest, the humor dancing across his face told a different story.
Keturah stepped to the edge of the porch. With the extra height, she could, for once, look Daniel in the eye without tilting her head upward. “Ye know, I reserve the right to withhold meals.”
Daniel moved closer, his face hovering inches from hers. The corner of his mouth lifted. “You could…but I know where you keep the food. I could simply prepare my own meals.”
The heat in his eyes caused her insides to turn to mush. Keturah swallowed, and her gaze fell to his mouth. All thoughts of a retort slipped from her mind.
They had been married a week. A kiss would be more than acceptable, right? Daniel’s hand slipped around her waist, and it was all the encouragement she needed. Her lips pressed to his. The kiss was gentle and tentative, but sweet and tantalizing. Craving more, Keturah leaned into her husband and deepened their kiss, spreading her hands against his sturdy chest. Daniel responded in kind, hugging her to him. She could lose herself there, in his embrace. Instead, she pulled back and gazed into his face, her cheeks flaming.
This marriage proved more surprising at every turn.
June 1, 1782
Keturah pushed soft dirt over the last in a row of beets and sat back on her heels. She dusted her hands on her old stained apron and closed her eyes on a sigh. One more item on her list complete. A warm breeze brushed her cheeks and lifted an errant curl near her face. Sliding it back, she cast her gaze toward the steady scrape of the plane over a twelve-foot log. Daniel worked with his shirtsleeves rolled above his elbows and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. Despite the mild morning, sweat beaded on his brow.
With a smile upon her lips, Keturah rose and walked over to where he worked several feet away. Slowly, his movements with the hand plane removed the rounded portion of the log, transforming it into a squared-off timber that would be added to the base of the new barn. Daniel’s adeptness with the tool had come as a surprise. But it eased much of the tension that had coiled within her over the past weeks.
Despite all the work that remained to be done, she and Daniel had made incredible strides. The plot for the barn was cleared and ready. And thanks to her husband’s quick learning, two logs were already in place. Planting was moving right along. In contrast tothe hopelessness that had gripped her after her father’s death, hope and joy stirred in her soul.
Keturah placed her hand on Daniel’s arm. His muscle corded as he pushed the plane forward, then relaxed when he stopped. He lifted a smile for her, despite his labored breathing. “Come, take a break,” she urged.
Daniel leaned across the beam and kissed her on the cheek. “I need to finish this.”
Keturah gave him a soft smile. “Nay. Ye need to take a break. We both need sustenance, an’ I have a hankerin’ for fish for supper. Why dinnae we go a’fishin’?” Not only would the fresh fish be a pleasant change in their meals, but the laid-back task would allow their sore muscles time to rest.
Daniel’s expression hovered between a grimace and a grin. “As long as you do not mind teaching me how.”
An unintended sigh escaped Keturah before she pushed the smile back onto her face. “Aye. I will show ye all ye need to know. Then we can fish alongside one another.” Though it dimmed the appeal of her idea, it was not Daniel’s fault that he did not know what he did not know. After all, they had been raised in completely different environments. And just as she had learned and adapted over the years, surely, he would do the same.
CHAPTER 7
June 1, 1782
Keturah cringed as she trekked down to the bank of the Green River. If Scamper did not scare the fish away, Daniel would. The two crashed through the undergrowth like an unruly pair of wild pigs. With a shake of her head, she stepped from the trees, out onto the stone-strewn shore. Though the tan rocks clinked together with every step, her noise still did not rival that of her companions.
Stopping at the edge of the water where a branch reached out and covered them with shade, Keturah settled their supplies on the ground beside a driftwood log. Then she turned and scooped water into the empty wooden bucket she had brought for the spoils of their labor.
“What is that for?” Daniel drew near and peered into the empty bucket.
With lips pursed, Keturah glanced in his direction. “To put the fish in after we catch them. ’Tis best to keep them wet an’ alive until it is time to clean them.”
“Clean them?”
Keturah stifled a groan. She would much rather settle in for a quiet afternoon, but Daniel could not learn without her sharing her knowledge. And his voice was so innocent and curious. It was endearing in its own way. “Removin’ the bones an’ scales. Cuttin’ the meat out.” She imitated the motions with her hands before she sat, using the log as a low bench.
Daniel came over to join her, the driftwood sinking lower with his weight.
Scamper crowded close, sniffing at the supplies in her basket.
“Here.” She handed Daniel one of the poles she and her father had made from rivercane harvested on that very bank. He appraised the pole with interest, scanning it up and down. Keturah tapped him on the shoulder, then showed him how to unwind the waxed linen thread wrapped around its length without undoing the portion tied on in case a fish broke the pole. She had no desire to make repairs should Daniel disrupt it.
Once that task was complete, Keturah dug a couple of worms out of a second bucket and handed one to Daniel. With a straight face, he took it from her.Digging them up from beneath rocks, he had not been quite so stoic. When she explained what they were doing, his eyes had increased to the size of saucers. But, he had delved right into the task, even with a grimace firmly in place. Now, he watched her for what to do next. Without hesitation, she pieced the worm with the hand-forged hook and pushed the hook along its length. Daniel did not protest, but his Adam’s apple bobbed before he did the same.
