“In the cape…”
Dawn could have found offense in his words were it not for the uncertainty his voice carried. The poor man was simply trying to gain her attention without knowledge of her name. Unfortunately, though, he had gained the attention of all. Both her stepparents halted their horses and turned toward the speaker. Mary glanced up at her, and Dawn gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before she turned.
Her gaze landed on a dappled gray horse with long, dark legs which lent the animal a sense of elegance. Her eyes followed them up to the rider, who wore boots and breeches. Above that was a white linen shirt and a blue waistcoat, but Dawn did not allow her eyes to travel farther up to the man’s face. She was a servant, and there might already be repercussions for her simply speaking to the man. Instead, she focused on the third button up. “Yes, sir?”
“I thought you might like to ride for a bit. I could use a walk and wished to offer up the use of my horse.” His body moved, giving the impression that he shrugged a shoulder.
“I am sorry, sir. Your offer is kind, but I cannot accept.” Dawn swallowed. It was impolite to decline the offer, but she could not risk her stepparents’ wrath for a few moments of comfort. It would make it worse when she had to walk again, anyway. She slid a glance toward Mary, who shifted uneasily as she watched the exchange. “But can she ride with you?” Any discipline she faced would be worth it for Mary to experience some relief.
Mary’s eyes widened with question.
“Yes. Yes, of course.” The gray horse approached Mary, and the man held a hand outstretched. While careful to keep her left arm tucked under her cloak, Dawn looped her right arm under the child’s rump to lift her up to where the gentleman could take hold of her.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear, once Mary was settled. He could not possibly understand the magnitude of his simple gesture, but she had to attempt to convey at least a measure of her gratitude. How long had it been since someone had considered her comfort or Mary’s?
CHAPTER 3
Because to every purpose there is time and judgment, therefore the misery of man is great upon him.
ECCLESIASTES 8:6
June 27, 1782
Hazel Patch, Kentucky
Jacob’s jaw clenched as he pulled his knife across the piece of wood in his hand, whittling away another sliver to join the countless others at his feet at the base of the tree stump on which he sat. He knew not what the piece would become, but it mattered not. It provided his hands with a productive task while keeping him from trouble. Their camp was set, his mother nearly had dinner prepared, and about fifty feet down the hillside behind the station was the caped woman. While the same couple that had ridden the horses were off at the station house, likely sipping tea and enjoying the latest news of the area alongside Jacob’s two middle brothers, the caped woman and the little girl were left to their own devices. Evidently, they were to set up camp and prepare the meal for all four people. And judging by how the little one kept glancing up at the station house, he could almost guess that their tasks were supposed to be completed by the time the couple returned.
Despite his best efforts, Jacob was no closer to knowing the girl’s story than he was the day before. When asked a question during their ride, the child would tilt her head thoughtfully. Then she would either give a noncommittal shrug or the question would go unanswered, as though it required pondering, but she lost her train of thought and forgot to answer. In a tiny whisper, she did give her name as Mary, after he had shared his own. Perhaps she was shy around strangers. But it left him more perplexed than ever.
With a loud sigh, Jacob stood and slipped his knife back into its sheath at his waist. At the sudden movement, his mother turned wide brown eyes upon him. “I need to stretch my legs,” he muttered. But his gaze never left the cape that swirled and flowed with the woman’s every movement.
How could she stand to wear such a garment in this heat? And what was so terrible that she was forced to hide? His steps faltered. Was it truly concern over her family’s treatment of her that propelled him forward or simple curiosity? No, it mattered not what the woman hid. She could be with child out of wedlock for all he knew. The girl might well be hers and she a woman of poor scruples who worked as a servant. But none of that mattered. They should not be left to tend to every bit of the work while the couple sat back and enjoyed the journey.
With renewed determination, Jacob charged forward across the grassy meadow. He did not stop until he was within inches of her. The girl, Mary, hesitated before tentatively wrapping her little arms around his legs in a brief hug. “Jacob.” Her small voice made it sound as though she were in awe that he stood in their camp.
A gasp sounded, and from where she knelt next to the campfire which she had only just coaxed to life, the caped woman whirled in his direction. Finally, Jacob was able to look her full in the face as she tilted it up to assess the newcomer. Her right hand went to the top of her straw hat as though to keep it positioned atop her head as she slowly stood.
His heart stuttered in his chest as she drew closer and he took in her features. “It is you.” Jacob breathed the words. His hand extended, then hovered at her elbow, close but not touching. Though her appearance had changed a bit with age, it was her. He knew it. Beneath the cover of her straw hat was hair the color of sunshine and bright sky-blue eyes. Eyes that once saw him better than anyone. Her mouth fell open, but she spoke not a word, likely as shocked as he.
“Jacob!”
At the sound of his name, he tore his gaze from the sight of her and turned. Jonah and Joseph had emerged from the station house and were beckoning him back to their camp. Jacob glanced at Dawn, but her back was already turned, her focus on tending the fire. “We will be fine here.” She spoke in a low voice, without looking at him.
He opened his mouth to see that she was sure, but no words came. Instead, a thousand questions whirled in his mind, fighting for space while the woman he had once loved purposefully kept her back turned to him. With a frown, Jacob turned and trudged back up the hillside.
“Well, it is a blessing that we are headed west rather than north,” Jonah, the second eldest of the siblings, said as he approached. Of the brothers, he was the one that had most closely resembled their father. Though of a thinner build, he possessed hair as red as the campfire crackling before them and eyes of the same light blue.
Jacob did not have a chance to question before the youngest of the family, their sister, Jemimah, spoke up. “Truly? Why?”
“There have been Indian raids in the area around Boonesborough.” Joseph answered for his brother before he plopped down on the grass beside Jared.
“How terrible,” their mother whispered. Her thin frame was hunched over the fire as she ladled up bowls of soup.
“We are headed in the other direction.” Jared placed his hand on her arm.
“Yes. But no less devastating for those affected.” Though she gave him a pointed look, Jared’s expression told that he need not be reminded. His jaw was clenched and his eyes dark as he stared into the fire. After being injured in the war, Jacob’s eldest brother could stand nothing to do with war or fighting. It had been his idea to travel west, to the land granted them for their service rather than to sell off their shares. Jacob could not blame him. His brother was running from some rather daunting demons.
Thinking of the past, Jacob’s gaze slid back to where Dawn and Mary worked to prepare a meal for the two they traveled with. He had a hunch now as to why she wore the cape—she was born without a left hand. Instead, she bore an oddly shaped stump with a miniscule thumb protruding from it. In the time that he knew her, she had never hidden the deformity, and it had never bothered him. Her beauty and her personality were as shining as the sun. What had happened to her in the years between then and now? How had she come to be traveling with that family? What had become of her parents?
