Dawn bit her lip. “I am sorry we took you away from your plans.”
Jacob stopped the horse and came alongside her, his expression earnest. “Do not be. They were not my plans. Sure, part of the land is mine. But I had no plans for my life once we arrived. I would much rather accompany you and Mary. Anyway, it seems there may be some need for soldiers where we are headed.” Jacob grinned and shot a wink her direction before turning back to the trail.
Dawn nodded, but she did not return his smile as they continued on. Was this one way in which time had changed her sweet Jacob? He had always borne a sense of justice, but had that grown into a desire to go in search of a fight? Had his time in the war created a need in him to continue fighting the way a winning hand at a game of cards could lead a man to lose his life’s fortune seeking that sensation once again? Perhaps she misunderstood his intentions.
Maybe it was time she sought to understand who her husband had been in the years they were apart. “You fought in the revolution?”
Another shrug. “I was just a messenger.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I did some scouting, but for the most part, I rode messages from camp to camp.” He turned and shot a quick grin at the horse upon which she and Mary rode. “Samson has carried me all over this country. Keeping him was another award for my service.”
“Oh. Samson is splendid.” With Mary asleep on her, she could not reach to rub his withers, but she fingered the black mane near the reins. The image in her mind of Jacob as an accomplished horseman, riding this majestic steed over hills and through hollers, was an attractive one. “And I am sure that was very important work. Many situations would have ended quite differently if certain messages had not been delivered in time.”
Jacob seemed to stand a bit taller then, but he did not reply immediately. “I suppose,” he said at length.
Had he never considered his importance in the war before? She frowned. That did not explain his desire to fight the Indians, though. Was it because he had not seen battle in the War of Independence? Did he feel less than the others? After all, his own brother had been severely injured and bore scars both inside and out. And…what of his father? How had she yet to ask about his absence?
“Jacob…what happened to your father?”
Jacob stopped and sighed. He turned toward her. “He was killed in the war. It was his idea to join up. Ma did not want him to, especially when all of us boys wanted to follow him into battle.” His jaw worked. “He wanted me to stay home with Ma and Jemimah. But he said he needed to fight for what was right. And if it was right for him, then it was right for the rest of us too.” His fists clenched at his sides.
Dawn squeezed her legs against Samson’s sides to ask him to step forward. The well-trained animal did as he was asked without hesitation. Once he was beside Jacob, he nuzzled his shoulder with his muzzle, blowing out loud, puffing breaths. Jacob’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and his face softened. He brought a hand up to rub under the horse’s chin.
This soft, caring side was the one that had always appealed to her most. But his sense of justice was what had cemented their friendship from day one. Jacob had found her crying in the meadow after Billy Johnson had made fun of her at school one day. Without fear, hesitation, or disgust, Jacob had comforted her and threatened to find the kid and beat him up.
After the two of them had shared a laugh, he had attempted to show her how to fish. When her soft heart could not bear the sight of the innocent fish hanging from the hook, he had set aside his pole and followed her along the shore as she pointed out minnows and dragonflies and shared the name of every wildflower growing on the banks of the pond. Besides her parents, it was the first time she had ever encountered someone whom she could be herself around and see complete acceptance reflected in their face.
“I am sorry for your loss, Jacob. I know what it is to lose a father. But do not let his words discourage you. Your role was vital to our victory in the War of Independence.”
One side of his mouth lifted in an obviously halfhearted smile. “I am sure.” With that, he turned and continued down the trail.
Dawn frowned at her husband’s retreating back. Had his confidence been so rocked by his lack of proving himself in battle that he still felt the need to do so? Perhaps there was no future for them, after all, if he was going to leave her to chase after some fulfillment only fighting would offer.
CHAPTER 8
There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High.
PSALM 46:4
Despite Jacob having kept a close eye on the map, the Rockcastle River came up out of nowhere. The quiet gurgle of its waters could barely be heard over the rustle of leaves and breaking of twigs as they made their way down the hillside, through the thick underbrush. But in the next second, Jacob’s boot had settled into the sandbar at the river’s edge. “Whoa,” he called to Samson, halting the horse while he was still on solid ground.
“Mary, my dear, it is time to wake up.” Dawn caressed the child’s pale cheek. Blue eyes blinked open, then her little hand came up to rub at sleepy eyes. She sat up taller and looked around, blinking a couple more times as her eyes adjusted to the afternoon light spilling into the opening where the river cut a jagged path through the trees.
“Where are we?”
“Rockcastle River,” Dawn answered. “’Tis time for us to dismount and make the crossing.” She handed the child down, and Jacob settled her in the clearest spot he could find before turning back to Dawn. His capable wife was already on the ground and at his side, though. Naturally, his hand went to her elbow.
“I need no assistance.” She reminded him with raised brows. But the corners of her mouth were raised ever so slightly.
“I am well aware.” He gave her his own grin. Dawn had proven to him years ago that she was capable of most anything she set her mind to. Jacob lowered his right hand to where her left one was absent and wrapped his fingers around the stub at the end of her arm, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist.
Dawn’s lips parted in shock, and her sky-blue eyes widened. Jacob froze. Had he made a mistake in showing that minor act of intimacy when they had agreed to a marriage in name alone? But Dawn did not pull away. Instead, her gaze searched his face. Before he could discern her reaction, a rustle to his right drew his attention.
Silent as could be, Mary wandered toward the river’s edge in a spot where the earth simply gave straight away to the moving water in a short drop-off. Jacob abandoned Samson’s reins, leaving the animal to his training, and rushed to her. He scooped her up into his arms before she could slip into the murky depths. “Whoa, there, sweet one. Not without an adult.”
When he returned her to Dawn, she gave Mary one of those gentle glares that his mother had often given him in his youth when he did something he knew better than to have done. “Mary, you know not to venture away, especially near the river. It could sweep you away.”
