Dawn sighed and Mrs. Abbott squeezed her shoulder. She offered the woman a wan smile. Rachel and Ruth stood beside their mother, their eyes round and mouths crimped. Mrs. Abbott spoke up. “Ladies, I believe it is time to pray.”
Dawn, Mrs. Abbott, and the girls knelt first. Then all the others followed suit. Though not part of their normal routine and at the risk of drawing attention from those waiting outside, a great cry for safety went up from their small crowd as the women begged God for a safe trip to the spring and back. Even when one woman finished praying, they each remaining kneeling until the last word of prayer had been uttered. Then they were able to stand with their chins held high, knowing that their God went with them and before them.
Dawn glanced back to where Jacob stood with his rifle a few feet away from the group of women, alongside Edmund and a couple of other husbands. All the color had left his face the night before when Morgan informed him they would run out of water if the women did not go to the well at the spring and fetch water as they did each morning. Jacob had gone with Morgan to speak with Elijah Craig, Daniel Boone, and the other men of leadership within the fort, and best she could tell, a serious discussion had taken place before it was determined that there was no way around it. The women had to go about their normal routine with as little change as possible. Dawn flashed a small smile in Jacob’s direction—though it could do little to ease the worry he must feel—before she turned and joined the women filing out of the fort.
Some of the women carried their wooden buckets in hand, but a few others carried them on wooden beams over their shoulders as Dawn did. For Dawn, it was the only way she could fill more than one bucket. For others, it allowed them to fill four. And they would need every ounce of water they could carry should an attack come to fruition.
Even though they were not supposed to look about, Dawn could not keep her gaze from drifting into the trees. Nothing appeared out of place, but still her heart pounded in her chest. Was that a movement?
Dawn turned forward again, a shiver running down her spine.
’Twas best to distract herself by joining in on the conversations that a few of the women attempted to carry on. “Ruth, you have a birthday coming up soon, do you not?”
The girl giggled, then stopped and glanced about. “I will be twelve.” She whispered, as though it was a secret.
Dawn chuckled. “Well, you will be a young lady, then.”
“Ma says we can lower my skirts that very day.” Ruth grinned proudly now, her fear forgotten in the joy of growing older.
Rebecca shook her head. “I keep telling her that it is not nearly as fun growing up as she thinks. All you do is work and no play.” Though her voice held a teasing edge, she spoke the truth. As the oldest, a large responsibility fell upon her shoulders.
“Are we not working right now?” Ruth raised her brows and the buckets she carried in each hand.
“True,” Rebecca agreed.
In truth, there were more girls than women present. And yet, each one carried their own weight. It was the way of life on the frontier. And, in Dawn’s experience, the way of life when you did not have parents of affluence who could provide for your care. In fact, Ruth and Rebecca’s burdens were lighter than hers had been at their ages simply because of the fact that they were able to share the chores with one another. Family was genuinely such a blessing.
A woodpecker knocked on a tree overhead, drawing Dawn’s attention. “Oh, but I believe this is a great adventure,” she told Ruth, and for a moment, had even herself convinced. “There is always something new to be found, if only you look and listen. You see, that is the sound of a woodpecker. Have you ever seen one, hammering on a tree? I cannot tell what kind it is without seeing it, but most are black and white with a bit of red.”
Rebecca chuckled. “I have seen one hammering on the house.”
Meanwhile, Ruth’s eyes widened. “There is more than one kind?”
Dawn nodded as the front of the group reached the well and began filling their buckets. “There are the downy and the hairy woodpecker. They look almost the exact same except that the hairy woodpecker is larger. There is the beautiful, red-bellied woodpecker. They have pale, almost white bellies, and the males have a lovely red crown over the tops of their heads.”
“Only the males?” Rebecca turned back to the conversation.
“Yes. Unfortunately, in nature, it is more often the males that have the brilliant plumage or distinguishing features.”
“That is not fair.” Ruth plopped her hands on her hips, her buckets banging against her sides.
Dawn chuckled. Her efforts at distracting herself and the younger girls seemed to have worked, for they moved steadily closer to the well from which they would draw their spring water. “Cardinals are much the same. The bright red ones that you see are the males, and the females are mostly a drab brown that blends in with the trees. They only have a bit of red mixed in, and it is not nearly as bright.”
“Still seems a shame,” Ruth grumbled.
“Well, I suppose, for them, it is more important for the males to attract a mate and for the females to blend in and be more protected so they can tend to the babies.”
Rebecca slid an appreciative glance at Mrs. Abbott, with a small smile tugging at her lips. “I suppose they would be lost should anything happen to their mothers.”
Dawn had to blink back the tears that threatened at her eyes. “Yes. It is difficult to lose a mother.”
Thankfully, it was their turn to draw water, so their conversation fell silent. Without any assistance, Dawn filled each bucket one-handed, then positioned her beam under them so she could lift it onto her shoulder. The task was not easy, by any means. But hauling water was not an easy task in general, especially for the younger girls. Still, soon every bucket was filled and they had begun the uphill climb back to the fort.
With the heavier loads and more difficult travel, little conversation could be heard over the panting breaths and the grunts that accompanied their labored steps. Their only focus now was returning safely. Would they continue to be spared, or would they be attacked now, when they were at their weakest?
Dawn had a knife in her pocket, but it would do nothing against arrows and bullets. That was, if she could even reach it in time to protect herself at all. Sweat slid down the side of her forehead, and she used her free arm to wipe it away, then blew out a breath.
The fort loomed just ahead.
