“Me play?”
“Of course, dear.” Dawn accepted Mary’s half-eaten food and dropped a kiss on top of her head. Then she chuckled as Mary scampered around behind Abraham and knelt down, eye level with the glass marbles. Dawn lingered for a moment to watch the joy on her face before she stepped up onto the porch and knocked on the doorframe.
“Come on in, honey,” Mrs. Abbott called.
When Dawn walked into the cabin, she was met by a flurry of activity. “Stand still, or I am going to stick you with the pin,” Rachel, the eldest, admonished Ruth, who stood in a chair with a new blouse pieced together across her top. The eleven-year old who carried her mother’s sandy-brown hair and hazel eyes seemed to suddenly tame the ants in her pants.
“Come, come.” Mrs. Abbott motioned Dawn past the two girls to where she stood at the table beside the fireplace. “Perfect timing. This one is ready to go in. I need you to move a scoop of coals over to the hearth there.” She pointed.
Dawn went to the hearth and picked up the metal scoop. Digging into the bright orange coals, she scooped up a portion of them and moved them over to a clear section on the stone hearth. “Next, we set this on top.” Mrs. Abbott carried the baking kettle over to the hearth and settled it on top of the coals. “The legs will keep it from burning, and now, we need another scoop of coals on top of the lid.”
Mrs. Abbot never seemed to think twice about Dawn’s deformity, assuming she could complete any task she handed to her. And for that, Dawn was grateful. She scooped another portion of the hot coals and carefully scattered them atop the lid. “Perfect.” Mrs. Abbott beamed. “And last but not least, add a scoop of ashes on top.”
The woman did not wait and watch for the task to be completed, but simply moved on to the next item that needed her attention. Dawn added the scoop of ashes on top while the matron saw that the construction of the blouse was being handled appropriately by her eldest daughter. “Good. Good work,” she praised the fourteen-year-old as she looked it over. Rachel released a small smile, her own chocolate-brown eyes warming as she continued working, her black hair curled into a neat bun at the back of her head.
“Now, Dawn, let us prepare the next loaf while that one is baking.” She moved back over to the table. “You did bring Mary with you?”
“Yes. She is out playing with Sarah and Abraham.”
“Wonderful.” Mrs. Abbott stopped and gave her a genuine grin, the skin around her eyes and lips crinkling as she did so. “I do so love to see the children getting on with one another so well.”
“Me too.” Dawn pushed a smile onto her face. Life did seem easier when she was working alongside Mrs. Abbot and Mary was happily playing. But without her marriage having been consummated, she felt as though she was building a foundation on shifting sand. What was causing Jacob to hold back? Despite their declaration of a shared desire for a life together, she could not seem to bring herself to broach the subject.
And though Mary was still in their lives, it was not enough. No matter how Dawn pretended during the day, her heart was torn each and every time she had to leave Mary with Edmund.
CHAPTER 13
Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.
DEUTERONOMY 31:6
August 15, 1782
“I cannot wait to see Dawn’s face when she lays eyes on these.” Jacob lifted the stalks of flowers with bright red blooms all along their tops and grinned at Edmund. Guilt squeezed like a vice around his heart, though. Would any number of eye-catching flowers show his wife that he truly loved her, stump and all, if he did not consummate their marriage?
Edmund shook his head but smiled. “You are the only man I have ever seen to go out hunting and bring back flowers along with his deer.”
Jacob chuckled. “The meat is a blessing, indeed, but I thought of Dawn as soon as I saw these beauties. Nothing she loves more than nature.” And now, after gaining her freedom, his poor wife was relegated to the bounds of the fort except for when the women fetched water from the spring. All because she was trying to do what was best for Mary. Meanwhile, breaking her own heart in the process.
Jacob frowned. Hopefully, these brilliant blooms would work to brighten both her spirits and their dim, dull cabin, despite how he withheld the one thing that would make their union true in every sense of the word. But how could he press her for that when Mary had been taken from her? When her freedom had been taken from her?
“Jacob?”
He turned toward Edmund and the question in his voice. “Yes?”
Edmund moved his horse closer as they plodded along toward the rear of the fort and nodded into the trees. Jacob’s brow knit together as he followed his gaze. But then he saw it. The edge of a horse’s nose. The flick of a black tail. Not one rider, but many, attempting to conceal themselves in the trees. He met Edmund’s gaze and nodded to let the older gentleman know that he had seen the same danger as he.
Silently, they rode on. If their visitors had not revealed themselves yet, perhaps it was best to pretend that they had gone unseen. Still, apprehension crawled across Jacob’s shoulder blades and prickled up the back of his neck as they reached the corner of the fort and rode down along its side.
Even though he kept his face pointed ahead, Jacob continuously swept his gaze over the forest. He sucked in a breath when he noticed the form of a barefoot, deeply tanned man perched in the top of a tree, only his lower half visible from behind the leaves. He did not appear to hold any weapon at the ready, though, for one hand rested on the branch beside his foot, and the other was on the tree trunk beside his hip. Still, it seemed both British and Indian forces laid in wait. Though the war was supposed to be over, there were British militia that joined with Indian tribes in the area in an attempt to gain control over the Ohio River Valley.
Jacob tempered his breathing and consciously loosened his grip on the reins. Samson would easily pick up on his apprehension and begin prancing if he were not careful.
As it was, the horse’s hooves seemed to be slogging through molasses as the front of the fort drew closer at a disturbingly sluggish rate.
Finally, they reached and rounded the corner. Jacob and Edmund exchanged another glance. Were the inhabitants of the fort aware of the danger? Would they open the gates for them?
Almost as soon as the question had come into his mind, the wide gates cracked open. It did not ease the tension in his shoulders, for as long as the gates were open, the entire fort was at risk. Was this what their visitors were waiting for? He opened his mouth to ask Edmund if they should call ahead and have them close the gates. Instead, Edmund’s black horse passed his at an extended trot. Jacob urged Samson to do the same, and the horse willingly complied, picking up the bumpy gait to quickly take them inside the opened gates.
