Mary, though her stepsister and no relation by blood, was her charge and the only person she could count as family in the world. Neither of their stepparents wanted them. Besides the free labor the two provided, they were seen as a burden. Dawn scoffed under her breath as she moved through camp as quietly as possible. How anyone could see sweet little Mary as a burden, with her bright blond curls and her big blue eyes, she would never understand. The child was quite angelic, in disposition as well as appearance. So fair and innocent.
Dawn finally found their location in the darkness and knelt where the moonlight filtered over Mary’s face. She reached toward the tiny shoulder of the four-year-old but hesitated, for her profile bore such a state of peace, her breaths coming slow and even. They needed to eat their dandelions before anyone awoke, though.
Gently, she gave Mary’s little arm a nudge. Then another. After a good shake, blue eyes blinked up at her. Without a word, she offered three of the dandelions. Mary moved into a sitting and accepted them. Dawn held one of hers up before taking a bite. Mary’s eyes widened, then she stuffed the whole bloom of the first plant into her mouth.
Together, they sat and consumed their practical feast in silence. Though foraging prospects were minimal at this time of year, dandelions, or Taraxacum officinale, were a bounty in their own right. Every inch from the bloom to the root was edible. While it might not be the most delicious of foods, it would keep her and Mary from starving at the hands of their stepparents. At least until they could reach Mary’s uncle at Bryan’s Station.
Surely, once the man became apprised of their situation, he would take pity on his flesh and blood and remove her from her stepmother’s cruel care. Family was everything, and though Dawn had none left, Mary did. The letter in Dawn’s pocket, addressed to Mary’s deceased father, said so. And Dawn would do all in her power to see her to him. No matter the consequences. Despite how dangerous life at a remote Kentucky station, a small fortified settlement, might prove to be, it was bound to be better than Mary’s current circumstances—a practical slave, having to scrounge to have enough to eat to live.
When the dandelions were gone, Dawn gave Mary a smile and ruffled her hair. Then she mouthed “good night” and placed her folded hands beside her head to mimic sleeping. The child nodded and tucked herself back under her cover.
A sound caught Dawn’s attention, and she whirled. The man who pursued her had stepped from the woods. Dawn dropped to the ground beside Mary, facing away from him.
Unless he had seen her move, seen her before she ducked down, there should be no way he could distinguish her from anyone else lying asleep. Still, Dawn held her breath and remained stock still. The man’s boots crunched across the grass as he drew nearer.
The sound stopped.
Perhaps he was looking around? The steps continued on after a moment, even and strong.
Had he put away his gun? Dawn shuddered. The stranger had appeared as a madman, with wide eyes and a pistol in hand. But then there was a tenderness, a familiarity in his voice when he called to her.
Why had he been so far from camp, though? Had he risen to relieve himself in the night and seen her venturing into the woods? She thought she had been more careful than that. But it was the only sensible explanation. Any other scenario resulted in a man with ill intentions toward her. And despite the fear he had struck in her, it was because of her circumstances, not him.
In her mind’s eye, she attempted to paint an image of the man who walked away from her now, his footsteps growing quieter. He was taller than her, though not overly so. Thin but sturdy, with tender brown eyes and dark hair to match. Much like the image she carried in her thoughts of a grown-up version of a boy she once knew. Besides her parents, Jacob had been the one person in the world who accepted her as she was, missing left hand and all. For two short years, they had shared endless adventures exploring the forests and meadows between their homes. Together, they had created memories that sustained her through even the coldest and loneliest of nights. Often, she dreamed of those sweet days as she fell asleep in order to escape the harsh realities of life.
But her and Jacob’s escapades had come to an abrupt end the day her father died—the day her life forever changed for the worst. A tear slipped from her eye as she flipped onto her back to stare at the stars above. Why did God have to take so much from her? He created such a beautiful, bountiful world, but why did it seem that death and destruction followed her every step of the way?
Dawn silently released her breath and pushed from the ground so she could return to her own cover. She could not allow herself to fall into that line of thinking again, for it held only heartache. Tomorrow would be a new day and would carry them closer to Bryan’s Station. Closer to hope.
CHAPTER 2
The horse is prepared against the day of battle: but safety is of the Lord.
PROVERBS 21:31
June 26, 1782
Between Raccoon Springs and Hazel Patch, Kentucky
“Did you not sleep well?” Joseph, the middle of the five siblings, reined his bay horse over next to Jacob’s gray. Here, where the trail led along the edge of an open meadow filled with tall grasses and wildflowers, there was room for the horses to walk alongside one another.
Jacob raised a brow and slid a glance in Joseph’s direction. Was his grogginess that noticeable, or had his brother seen him rise in the night?
No smirk showed on his brother’s freckled face. And while Joseph’s hat shadowed his gaze, his eyes did not dance with the joy of secret knowledge.
“No. I did not sleep well,” Jacob conceded.
“Thought so. You look as though you might doze off and fall off your horse at any moment. Granted, sleep is mighty hard to come by on some nights. At times, it seems the owls are in the branches right above my head and the crickets have crawled up next to my ears, singing their same song over and over.”
Jacob smiled. “The owls probably are that close. I saw one swoop between the trees last night.” He did not add that it had been in the forest on his way back from chasing the mysterious woman, rather than while lying in their camp.
A chuckle rumbled from his brother all the same. “You know, Jared says we should be on our lands in another week or two. Can you believe it? After over a month of this, we are so close. Tomorrow, we branch off from the trail that leads up to Boonesborough.”
There it was—that glint in Joseph’s brown eyes over the tipped-up corners of his mouth. Even with the shadows his hat cast, it was unmistakable. His anticipation to reach their land and see what it had in store for them was palpable. A world of possibilities, he had said countless times. If only Jacob agreed.
Instead, he felt much the same as he imagined a man headed for the noose would feel—that there was nothing for him at the end of the trail except for his demise. When they arrived, Jacob would be trapped, living in the shadows of his brothers. He shook his head as though to knock the cobwebs from his head. His future could not be half as horrible as his mind might have him think. “No. I cannot believe it.”
Joseph prattled on about the journey and his plans to start a business, but Jacob heard the words without truly listening. The dull murmur met his ears while he ignored the same speech that had been told over and over. One filled with hope and joy.
