Chapter 3
Because to every purpose there is time and judgment, therefore the misery of man is great upon him.
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?
“I think you are scowling worse than Jared now.” Joseph waved a hand in front of his face and shoved a bowl of soup in his direction.
“Oh.” He accepted the bowl and attempted to wipe the sour expression from his face. But questions ate at him.
“What were you doing down there?” In between bites, Joseph motioned to the woman’s camp with his spoon.
Jacob cleared his throat and shrugged a shoulder. “Just offering to lend a hand.”
His brother seemed to accept the meager explanation, for he nodded an agreement and continued to dig into his food.
But his mother’s scrutiny bore into him.
Her face held no judgment or hint of her thoughts, but she watched him intently.
Heat crept up the back of his neck as he attempted to pretend he did not notice.
After parenting five children, the eldest of which was twenty-seven and youngest of which was nineteen, it seemed his mother could see right into their thoughts sometimes.
“’Tis good to lend the hand of Christian charity and help those in need.
” Her voice came out as even and gentle as ever and was accompanied by a tiny, approving nod.
Did she truly believe his words? That he had only been doing his part?
Or was she simply covering for him in front of his brothers and sister?
A look into her brown eyes did not give away the answer.
“Yes.” He barely croaked out the answer.
For charity was the furthest thing from his mind.
Instead, it was how he could get close to the only woman who had ever held his heart and coax some answers from her.
Surely, he deserved as much, since she disappeared from his life without a word of explanation.
Now, she had reappeared just the same. And in some ways, the way his stomach tumbled, it was as though the years had never passed.
* * *
Metal clanked against metal as Dawn knelt and gathered the dishes to take down to the creek for washing.
Using her right hand, she easily balanced them in the crook of her left arm.
Her stomach growled at the sight of the half-eaten ham her stepmother had left on her plate.
The woman had been pale as a ghost and barely touched her food when she reemerged from the cabin, but no explanation had been offered thus far, and Dawn knew better than to inquire.
She also knew better than to touch the leftover meat until she had disappeared from her stepparents’ sight.
When she prepared the cured ham for the evening meal, she and Mary were allowed a single small piece for their portion.
It was barely more than a few bites, but the consequences were more painful than the hunger pains if she allotted too much to herself or Mary.
“The risk should not be as great to the west, should it?” Their stepmother finally broke her silence with a tiny wisp of a voice.
“No.” Her stepfather bit out the answer. “The fighting is to the north.”
Dawn paused. What could they mean? They were supposed to be traveling north, to Bryan’s Station.
She glanced at Mary, who met her gaze but gave nothing away.
It would not behoove her to ask, though, so she attempted to cast the thought from her mind and turned toward the creek.
But a nagging weight in her middle stopped her after several steps.
This journey was all for naught if they were not headed toward Bryan’s Station.
If they were going west… She had to be sure.
“Are we not headed north?” Her voice cracked with disuse.
Her stepfather cut his eyes at her, then a vicious smile slowly spread across his face. “No. We are not.”
Dawn swallowed. “I…I thought we were going to Bryan’s Station.”
Her stepfather chuckled. A hollow, evil sound. “Yes. Yes, that is what you thought. Melvina was adamant that she wanted her servants to come west with us, so you were told what you needed to hear in order for you to agree to coming.” He raised his brows as though to challenge her.
Dawn’s mouth hung open. It was all a hoax.
There was no Bryan’s Station, no hope for her and Mary at the end of the journey.
Only a bleak, desolate future serving their stepparents.
Dawn’s body began to shake. She took a tentative step backward, but the dishes slipped from where she had them perched and went clattering to the ground.
Before she could bend to regather them, her stepfather rose with his fists clenched at his sides.
“You imbecile,” he raged. “You think you have an ounce of say as to what happens in this household when you cannot even hold on to a few dishes? You should be grateful we even allow you employment as a servant.”
Fire crept up the back of Dawn’s neck and into her cheeks.
Simply knowing where she stood with the man who was supposed to be her stepfather was much different than hearing his words of hatred spewed at her.
Never in all her years growing up had she ever imagined she would end up in such a position.
Her father had always taught her how to see past her birth defect to her beauty as a daughter of God.
Dawn closed her eyes. How could this be her life?
A tear slipped down her cheek. No, she could not give up yet. “What about Mary? What about her uncle?”
“That child is better off to learn what hard work is now. It will give her a purpose, so she can have a future.”
Dawn’s own fingers curled into a fist. “A future,” she scoffed, before she even realized what she was doing.
The next thing she knew, pain seared through the left side of her face and rang through her ears as her stepfather’s hand collided with her head. She staggered backward a step and blinked up at his face, contorted with rage. Mary crept up behind her and slipped her tiny hand into hers.
“How dare you—”
A blur of color came from her left and tackled her stepfather to the ground.
She and Mary both shuffled backward as the two men rolled over onto the dishes.
Despite the flurry of fists and feet before her, Dawn recognized the blue waistcoat from the day before.
Only, the blue waistcoat was attached to the face of the man who had offered his assistance earlier that day, a face from her past. “Jacob!”
Jacob had come to her rescue.