Jacob swallowed and glanced around for Edmund, but he was nowhere to be found. Ahead of them loomed a long rise. What was Colonel Todd thinking, coming from the low ground like this? God, please let him know what he is doing.
Before Jacob and Samson had even crested over the rise, shots rang out. The rest of the line swung around and charged forward, Samson leaping into action as though he had been trained for battle. Jacob sat deeper in the saddle and gave short, steady tugs on the reins to settle him down. Once he had the animal at a smooth walk, he started loading his rifle.
When he had the ball loaded and the powder poured, he raised the weapon to his shoulder and brought Samson to a halt atop the rise. Jacob’s eyes widened—for what must surely be two hundred British militia and their Indian allies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Their leader must have known the settlers were coming, and they rode right into the trap.
Jacob aimed to the right of Samson’s thick, mane-covered neck, blew out the breath he had been holding, and fired a shot. It missed its target. He held the reins in his left hand to keep Samson at a slow, steady walk as he fell into a rhythm—ball and patch, ramrod, powder, aim, fire. All the while, he did his best to tune out the sound of gunshots from both armies as well as the thumps of the balls pelting the earth around him.
But when the first soldier fell at his hand, Jacob stopped and stared as the man sprawled on the ground. He had blond hair, much the same as Dawn or Edmund. The brown horse the man had ridden skittered aside and then took off, attempting to free itself from the danger.
Beside him, one of his comrades toppled from his horse, dead. Jacob loaded another shot, not hesitating to fire this time. Steadily, the line moved forward, pushing the enemy downhill.
All of a sudden, shouts and cries came from the other side. Indian braves had swung around the right end of the line, sandwiching Colonel Stephen Trigg’s militia between the Indians and British.
In the next moment, it seemed, Colonel Trigg went down. Then, in the very next, Colonel Todd fell. “No,” Jacob yelled as he watched their leaders crumple to the earth. Samson pranced in place, not knowing if he should move forward into the fray or back away from the danger.
The militia began to scatter. Horses and riders bolted, galloping back over the crest and down the hillside toward the river they had forded. Jacob hesitated, glancing toward the approaching enemy ranks before he turned Samson and followed suit. A couple of horses tripped on the uneven earth and fell, taking their riders down with them as they tumbled down the hill with horrific squeals. Jacob winced and lifted his reins, keeping Samson’s head up and slowing him to a measured lope.
Behind them, a group of braves followed, firing arrows upon the men before they could make it across the river. In front of Jacob, an arrow sliced through a man’s middle, and with the wooden shaft sticking from his back, his body slipped into the river. Jacob grabbed the reins of the horse and ponied it across with him to the other side.
On the riverbank, one man shouted a command and waved an arm as he turned back toward the enemy. A small group of men made a stand while the remainder, their numbers much fewer than before, finished crossing. Shots volleyed across the river.
Jacob turned back and finally sighted Edmund. He and his black steed were at the end of the line, protecting the retreating militia from their assailants. Jacob surged forward toward him, the extra horse still at his side.
An arrow pierced Edmund’s middle. Samson continued forward, but for Jacob, time suspended. Edmund’s hand went to the arrow, and he wavered. He urged his horse to step from the line, but the animal shied at a blast of gunpowder beside him. Edmund slipped and landed on the rock-strewn sand at the shore. His horse trampled his rider, then veered in their direction, the whites of his eyes visible in his panic. Jacob had no time to steer Samson away before the steed crashed into Samson’s chest and then nearly took off Jacob’s left leg as he plowed past. Samson squealed and reared, kicking at the air. Jacob’s eyes widened as the sensation of falling tugged his body backward. He grappled for the saddle, but the reins ripped from his hand before he crashed to the hard earth.
“Ah!” Pain shot through his head, then there was nothing but black.
Laughter filled the cabin, warming Dawn’s worry-wearied heart. Despite the stifling heat, delicious vegetables from the late-summer harvest filled their bellies, and the children were happy and healthy. For the first time since Jacob’s departure two days prior, Dawn felt an odd sense of peace. With Mrs. Abbott and her children, she and Mary would never have to face another truly lonely day in their lives. Trials would come and go, but with the good Lord above and friends that cared deeply surrounding them, they could walk through the fire.
Oh how wrong she had been about family having to be of blood relation. Mrs. Abbott had taken Dawn under her wing and made her one of her own without the bat of an eye. These people, here, surrounding her as she dried the dishes Mrs. Abbott washed, were family by choice. A blessing she never could have dreamed on her own.
“’Tis a wonderful sound, is it not?”
Dawn glanced from the children and their game of marbles, all crammed in the little space at the front of the cabin, to Mrs. Abbott. “Yes, it is.”
“One day you will have more.” The older woman nodded. “And though they will give you gray hairs, they will fill your heart a little more, each and every one of them. And you will thank God for their presence in your life, every day.”
Dawn gave her a warm smile before they both turned back to the task of cleaning up the dishes from the evening meal.
Shouts drifted in through the open door, drawing everyone’s attention. Abraham scrambled from the floor and dashed out onto the porch. Rebecca followed. A moment later, she poked her head back through the doorway, her eyes wide. “A rider just came in. I believe he has news of the battle.”
Dawn exchanged a glance with Mrs. Abbott, though the woman’s measured expression gave nothing away. As soon as she finished drying her hands on her apron, she put a hand on Dawn’s arm. “Let us go and see.” She barely dipped her chin, but the gesture bolstered Dawn’s spirit. It was so soon, the rider might come bearing other news.
Together, they walked out into humid, late-afternoon air. The sun had already dipped behind the fort walls, and soon dusk would be upon them. At the front of the fort, though, a small crowd had already collected around the horse and rider. A woman in the gathering screamed and fell to the ground. Dawn stopped in her tracks.
“We do not know,” Mrs. Abbott reminded her, putting a hand behind her back and gently propelling her forward. But it was as if Dawn had already been plunged into the depths of a frozen river. A chill wrapped around her, and her muscles grew stiff. Her gaze remained affixed to the young boy beside the horse, his hat crumpled in his hands as he delivered his news and answered questions. Elijah Craig was among the group, and he turned, running a hand over his face before he hung his head. This could not be good.
As they neared, the boy’s blue eyes locked onto hers, then shifted to Mrs. Abbott. He visibly swallowed. No one spoke for a minute as more people gathered around behind, closing them in. Dawn watched and waited for the news that she knew would come. The news that would shatter her heart.
Finally, the boy’s glance encompassed the group. “Colonel Todd’s militia was defeated at the Licking River, with heavy losses. More than half the souls perished. Please prepare a place to care for the wounded, as they will start to arrive after sunrise.” He repeated his message.
Dawn staggered backward a step and reached for Mrs. Abbott, who wrapped an arm around her and latched onto her elbows to keep her from falling. Instead, she slowly lowered her to the ground.
More than half. How many remained, then? What were the chances that Jacob or Edmund were among them?
Tears swam in Dawn’s eyes, and a cry formed a strangled knot in her throat.
“Not here, my dear.” Mrs. Abbott looked to someone above Dawn. “Rebecca, go to the cabin and watch the children. Bring Mary home after a half hour has passed.”
