This was all Dawn’s fault. If it were not for her and her drive to reunite Mary with her uncle, they never would have been in this situation. But if she had never confronted her stepfather about going to Bryan’s Station, she and Mary would still be under their stepparents’ thumb. And that had been another kind of nightmare.
Perhaps she could have forgotten her goal once they were in Jacob’s care, though? Then both he and they could be safe with his family in western Kentucky where the tensions were not so high.
Still, that was not the case either. There was no reason to regret what was in the past. Then she would not be married to this man who held her so tightly. If only they could bridge the one gap that still separated them.
Dawn took a deep breath and stepped back from Jacob.
“Everyone is well?” Jacob glanced from her to Mary, who had relinquished her grip on his leg.
Despite the scare she had suffered, Dawn nodded. “We are well.” No matter how the day’s events had worked to sever the threads of her nerves, she and Mary had come to no real harm. Everyone was safe, and that was all that mattered.
Suddenly, shots seemed to ring out from all around. Dawn jerked and ducked, then glanced about. Though the sounds were all around, there was no immediate threat.
Jacob squeezed her hand. “I have to go.”
Dawn nodded, but her heart constricted as she watched him go.
Mrs. Abbott flapped her arms at those still in the cabin. “Come on, children. These men are going to need sustenance. Rebecca and Ruth, go to Mrs. Brooke and help her tend to any injured. Let us know if you run short on hands, though I pray you do not. The rest of us will prepare food and relay food and water to the men. They are not likely to stop to eat, but at some point, they will become hungry. It is our job to sustain them.”
Mrs. Abbott’s speech pulled everyone together. Any sense of fear and panic quickly transformed into a sense of purpose as every single one of them, from the youngest to the oldest, assumed their tasks.
Mary and Mrs. Abbott’s two younger children stayed behind to help with the food while Dawn took a bucket of water and ladle, offering drinks to the men. A couple seemed parched already and grateful for a quick drink, whereas most declined so early in the battle. Next, Mrs. Abbott had prepared a basket of bread for Dawn to take around. Most of the men declined the bread as they readied their next shot, but a couple took a piece and shoved it in their mouth, nodding their thanks. Arrows flew over the walls and landed near Dawn and the men. Meanwhile, shots peppered the walls of the fort. Thankfully, few penetrated the thick wood put in place for such purposes.
At first, Dawn flinched at every shot, but the longer she was out, the more the shots simply became noise and she went about her business, watching the skies for arrows.
When she returned to Jacob, his eyes widened at the sight of her. Then he moved to her. “Dawn, you are back.”
“I come bearing bread this time.” She lifted the basket in her hand.
A shot ricocheted off the rim of the porthole. Dawn jerked. Jacob pushed her back toward the building behind them, farther from danger. “It is not only Indians, but British as well. So many of them. We will need sustenance, but we will need munition more. Tell Mrs. Abbott. She will know what to do or will know someone who will.” He planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Be careful.”
Then Jacob was back at his post, using the ramrod to load the ball and patch and pouring in a measure of powder. Dawn tore her eyes from him and darted back toward Mrs. Abbott’s. She leapt onto the porch and dashed inside. “Jacob says the men need munitions more than anything. We are surrounded by British and Indians.”
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Abbott spoke the words as if a small child had simply fallen and scraped their knee, not as though they were in the middle of a battle for their lives. “I should have known. Morgan runs the magazine room, but he may need assistance in assuring that each man has what he needs. Abraham, take a bucket and water around to the men. Mary and Sarah, stay here. I will be back soon. Come.” She motioned to Dawn.
Dawn followed her from the cabin and to the magazine room she spoke of. The doors stood open to reveal a room filled with tables, crates, barrels, and weapons. The smell of black powder met Dawn’s nose. Mrs. Abbott stepped over the threshold. “Morgan, do you need an extra pair of hands to relay supplies to the men?”
“Yes.” Morgan motioned Dawn over without looking up from his task. Mrs. Abbott gave her arm a quick pat before she slipped from the room.
Dawn skirted around a table covered with rifles and moved over beside Morgan to find that he was preparing crates with balls, shot patches, and powder horns. He stopped, and his mouth crimped at the sight of her. His glance took her in from head to toe.
“Can you handle this?” Much to her surprise, his tone was not one of judgement. He only needed the truth.
“Yes.” She nodded. “If you continue to load the crates, I can deliver them to the men. And I should be able to carry two at a time so long as they are stacked one on top of the other.”
Morgan jerked his chin in understanding, then set back to work. They formed a relay with Morgan preparing the crates of supplies and setting them in stacks of two while Dawn delivered them to the men defending the fort. Once each man had received his first crate, she went through retrieving the empty crates for the process to repeat again. It seemed the supplies were being used faster than they could deliver them. Still, the day wore on and the fighting showed no hint of ending.
“Mrs. Dawn, do you need a drink?” Abraham came scurrying up behind her. His dark hair stuck out at all angles from sweat and exertion.
Dawn let a breath out as she lowered her empty crates to the ground and offered him a wan smile. These children were so resilient. She wiped the back of her sleeve across her own sweat-covered forehead before she accepted the ladle and drank of the thirst-quenching liquid.
“Come, Mr. Morgan will need a drink as well.” Dawn motioned toward the magazine room with her stump before she bent to pick up the crates. ’Twas not as easy lifting them from the ground as from the tables, but she managed, even with her aching arms. Then she led Abraham over.
While the boy gave Morgan a ladleful of water, Dawn swept her gaze over the barrels that filled the relatively small room, many of which they had already emptied. “Morgan, is this all the supplies we have?”
He paused only long enough to glance her way, his mouth set into a thin line. “Yes.”
Dawn swallowed. Would their supplies last, or would the fort be overtaken? What would happen then?
