Chapter 2
The horse is prepared against the day of battle: but safety is of the Lord.
Between Raccoon Springs and Hazel Patch, Kentucky
“Did you not sleep well?” Joseph, the middle of the five siblings, reined his bay horse over next to Jacob’s gray. Here, where the trail led along the edge of an open meadow filled with tall grasses and wildflowers, there was room for the horses to walk alongside one another.
Jacob raised a brow and slid a glance in Joseph’s direction. Was his grogginess that noticeable, or had his brother seen him rise in the night?
No smirk showed on his brother’s freckled face. And while Joseph’s hat shadowed his gaze, his eyes did not dance with the joy of secret knowledge.
“No. I did not sleep well,” Jacob conceded.
“Thought so. You look as though you might doze off and fall off your horse at any moment. Granted, sleep is mighty hard to come by on some nights. At times, it seems the owls are in the branches right above my head and the crickets have crawled up next to my ears, singing their same song over and over.”
Jacob smiled. “The owls probably are that close. I saw one swoop between the trees last night.” He did not add that it had been in the forest on his way back from chasing the mysterious woman, rather than while lying in their camp.
A chuckle rumbled from his brother all the same. “You know, Jared says we should be on our lands in another week or two. Can you believe it? After over a month of this, we are so close. Tomorrow, we branch off from the trail that leads up to Boonesborough.”
There it was—that glint in Joseph’s brown eyes over the tipped-up corners of his mouth.
Even with the shadows his hat cast, it was unmistakable.
His anticipation to reach their land and see what it had in store for them was palpable.
A world of possibilities, he had said countless times. If only Jacob agreed.
Instead, he felt much the same as he imagined a man headed for the noose would feel—that there was nothing for him at the end of the trail except for his demise.
When they arrived, Jacob would be trapped, living in the shadows of his brothers.
He shook his head as though to knock the cobwebs from his head.
His future could not be half as horrible as his mind might have him think. “No. I cannot believe it.”
Joseph prattled on about the journey and his plans to start a business, but Jacob heard the words without truly listening. The dull murmur met his ears while he ignored the same speech that had been told over and over. One filled with hope and joy.
The image in front of him offered a stark contrast. Riding ahead of them on the trail was the family with the caped woman.
Four people, two horses for riding, and two horses carrying their belongings.
And although their midday respite was more than an hour done and passed, the same two adults rode the mounts.
The same two, it seemed, who always rode.
Meanwhile, the caped young woman and a small child, perhaps four or five in age, walked day in and day out.
Were they servants? Their sluggish steps and hunched shoulders hinted of a life of drudgery.
Did the child belong to the caped woman?
Was the sin of bearing a child out of wedlock what caused her to hide away and keep to herself?
Even so, no matter the circumstances, it was not right that they should walk hour upon hour in this heat while the other two rode. Why had Jacob never noticed this injustice? Or never took it to heart as he did now?
If the woman was the couple’s servant, he had little right to intervene.
But she was a human being. Did she not deserve a measure of respect?
Her feet were likely bloodied and blistered by now.
The pain the child must be in…so unnecessary when she could easily ride double without putting strain on the horse.
“Just a moment, brother.” Jacob excused himself from Joseph’s one-sided conversation and rode ahead.
After asking his gray for a trot, he easily caught up with the other family.
He guided his horse over next to the grass, past the little girl and the caped woman who walked side by side.
Then, because the man rode a little ahead of his wife, Jacob was able to come up alongside him.
He tipped the brim of his hat in greeting.
“Good evening. How are you and your family on this fine day?”
The man slid dark eyes in his direction. “We are well.” His tone was even and measured. “And you?”
“Good. Good. Mighty fine weather we are having.” Jacob grinned broadly, laying on the cordial hospitality.
“A might bit warm, I would say.” Despite the man’s words, his voice was as cold as ice. Jacob’s smile nearly faltered.
“True enough. But at least we are not plagued by rain.” He mustered up some of his brother’s optimism.
Every time he complained of the heat, Joseph pointed out that it could be raining.
And as much as it crawled under Jacob’s skin, it was a valid point, for traveling in driving rain was perhaps the least preferable condition of travel they had experienced.
Eventually, the continual pelting of water seemed to bore right into a person.
“Yes. I will give you that. Is there some way in which I might help you?”
Now Jacob frowned. Straight to the point. The man did not wish to be bothered, and how could he blame him? “No. No, sir. I only wanted to offer my assistance. I noticed you have fewer mounts than people and thought to offer up my own horse for a time. My legs could use a stretch.”
The man eyed him. “We have no need of an additional mount.”
Jacob glanced back toward the two who trudged behind the man’s wife.
Though the woman carefully kept her head down, her ear was cocked in his direction.
Meanwhile, the girl watched him with wide blue eyes, as though he held the world in his hands.
Jacob took a deep breath at the ache that filled his chest.
“Perhaps the young girl could ride with me, then?”
“She can walk.” The man’s voice was clipped, his patience having run dry.
“Yes, sir.” Jacob pulled his mount to a halt and allowed the family to move on ahead.
He watched their retreating backs while waiting for his own family to catch up.
Meanwhile, a fiery itch started at the bottom of his feet and slowly worked its way all the way up the back of his neck, as though someone had set those fire ants that lived in Europe loose within his clothing.
Not a bit about the situation set right with him. Jacob clenched his jaw as the caped woman’s petticoats swish to and fro with each step, the hem of the outer garment covered in a layer of dust and debris. One way or another, he had to find a way to intervene on her behalf.
* * *
Dawn resisted the urge to follow the man with her gaze and instead kept it trained on the brown rump of her stepmother’s horse.
It was unmistakable, though, that he was the one from the night before.
His voice gave him away. When he caught her in the clearing, he only uttered a single word, but it had penetrated the deep, dark night and settled into her mind.
There was something unmistakable about it.
The timbre. The concern. It warmed a forgotten place within her heart.
But why had he only now approached her stepparents?
After more than a month on the trail, being made to walk while they rode.
Why did it take a chance encounter for him to be concerned?
Then again, why was no one else concerned?
Because, so often, people lived in their little worlds, focused only on their own needs and wants.
Dawn bit her lip. Mary’s uncle would not be that sort, would he? Connection, though, such as blood ties or a chance encounter, had the power to break through a person’s tendency toward selfishness. At least, she prayed it would be so. For he was their only hope.
Dawn stole a glance at Mary. The girl’s mouth was crimped and her steps stiff, but she did not utter a word of complaint.
The poor child had already learned to take what was dealt her in the two years that their stepparents had been married.
’Twas a shame. Half of Mary’s brief life had been spent in servanthood, with no chance to play or be a child.
But Dawn was doing her best to see that changed.
Sweat trickled down the sides of Dawn’s forehead and between her bosoms. The humid heat of the day was made worse by the cloak she wore to hide her birth defect.
Not only that, but her feet bore blisters and bruises, which protested with each step she took.
Still, she breathed in deep breath after deep breath, focusing on the plants and animals around her rather than her discomfort.
It was a trick her father had taught her as a young girl.
When snide remarks about the absence of her left hand were made, he instructed her to turn the other cheek and search for another beautiful creation of the Lord’s.
Though any belief that she was beautiful had died with her parents, her faith in the Lord’s handiwork had not.
Within nature, one could always find beauty, if they only sought it.
As now, growing at the edge of the forest a few feet in front of her, was a large plant with long white plumes.
To most, it was a wild bush to be ignored, but to her it was goat’s beard, Aruncus dioicus.
Dawn smiled to herself, admiring the feather-like flowers, which beckoned for her touch. If only they were not on her left side.
Father had taught her the scientific names for a plethora of plants and animals.
Many she had yet to encounter in person, only through books.
As a child, the elaborate words spoken in his deep baritone had proved enchanting.
Even now, the sound echoed in her mind and brought her comfort.
At the time, life had seemed a grand adventure with a world of opportunity waiting at her fingertips.
How wrong she had been.
The distinct sound of horse’s hooves trotting up the path behind her pulled Dawn from her musings.
Her shoulders squared, and she reached for Mary’s hand.
She gripped the child’s fingers as the hoofbeats slowed to a walk behind her.
Had the man from the night before returned again?
If so, why? Was it pure concern that propelled him?
“Ahem.” The man’s throat cleared. “Ma’am.”
The warmth in his voice nearly caused her to turn without thinking, but she looked to her stepmother instead. The woman continued to face forward, her back stiff as she rode in the saddle.
“Ma’am…I mean, you, walking here…”
He was speaking to her?
“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?