Chapter 18 #2
Was that Jacob out there somewhere? Had he taken a ball to the abdomen?
Or worse? Did he lie somewhere in a field, with those brown eyes of his wide, unseeing?
Or had he attempted to come back to her but died somewhere along the way?
Daniel Boone had arrived with the first group, and with a short list of names of those who had died en route to the fort.
Jacob’s name was not on the list. But that did not mean that he was not dead.
Her last ounce of hope had run out, like the sand in an hourglass.
Mrs. Abbott came out onto the porch. She sat beside Dawn and rubbed her back. “This is no easy task, even when your own heart is not grieving.”
Dawn shook her head. “I cannot do it anymore.”
“I know, dear. I know. Come and eat something. Remember the stew Rebecca had simmering over the fire before we left.”
Dawn nearly retched. She shook her head again. “I cannot eat. I…I just want to be alone.”
“Let us get you home, then.” Mrs. Abbott placed a hand under her arm and helped her from her seat.
The Taylors’ cabin was across the way, near the far end of the fort, so it seemed to take forever to make the journey at the slow pace with which her feet moved.
From inside several cabins, crying could be heard.
And in others, there was utter silence. Women grieved or were already spent from their grieving.
Finally, they made it to her cabin, and Mrs. Abbott swung the door open. The inside was empty, devoid of people. Dawn entered and crawled onto the bed, pulling her knees up and curling around herself.
“We will keep Mary for the night unless we hear otherwise. Let us know if you need anything, and I mean absolutely anything, before morning.” Mrs. Abbott waited in the doorway for her nod before she would leave.
When the door shut, Dawn allowed her tears to flow unchecked.
She allowed the inevitable truth to seep into her bones and for the grief to consume her.
Jacob was gone. She had only just been reunited with him, with her other half.
They had shared only two short months together before he had been ripped from her life. And yet, it felt like so much more.
With Edmund not having returned, either, it would just be her and Mary again.
They would have to find a new normal for their lives.
One without Jacob’s smile or his kindness.
Without him there to consider their needs and wants.
To kiss her at the end of a long day or to whisk Mary onto his shoulders. Sobs overcame Dawn.
When they finally subsided, sleep tugged at her, and she allowed it to pull her into its dark, comforting abyss.
A loud banging at the door jarred Dawn from her sleep. Her brows gathered as she listened for the sound. “Dawn, come now!” Was that Rebecca’s voice? What would Rebecca need so urgently? Had something happened to Mrs. Abbott?
Dawn hastened to the door and swung it open.
Rebecca stood outside. “Two more riders have come in. Ma needs your help.”
Dawn’s shoulders sagged. How could she do this again? She had nothing left to give of herself. Dusk had fallen, but she looked to the gate where two horses were, as well as several men. It appeared one rider stood beside his mount while the other was laid over the saddle. Was the man even alive?
Dawn pinched the bridge of her nose as she turned back to Rebecca.
“Has someone fetched Mrs. Brooke?” The experienced woman had served as a nurse with the Continental Army before following her husband to Bryan’s Station.
Even after becoming widowed, she continued as the station’s nurse in the absence of a physician.
Since the siege had ensued a few days prior, her expertise had proved invaluable.
“She was still with Mrs. Taylor, so Ma went to fetch her herself. She told me to come wake you, then go back to keep an eye on the children.”
Dawn nodded. “Thank you, Rebecca.” She attempted to offer some semblance of a smile before she turned and trudged toward the gate.
She had told Mrs. Abbott she could not handle any more.
Why had she not sought out another woman to help with the injured?
Or asked Rebecca to assist and allowed Ruth to watch over the younger children?
Though, with the state the one rider appeared to be in, she may have wanted to save her eldest daughter from the trauma.
And there were few women in the fort who had not been impacted in some way by the battle.
So the task at hand fell to her. Dawn crossed her arms as though to warm herself and walked toward the group as the men worked to unload the one man from the saddle. With the care they took, he must still be alive. Dawn quickened her steps.
At the sound of crunching grass behind her, she glanced around to find Mrs. Abbott and Mrs. Brooke dashing toward her. When she turned back, her gaze landed upon the first rider and his mount. Dawn slowed to a stop. It could not be.
Samson’s coat seemed darker in dusk, but his coloring was unmistakable, even with his head hung low to the ground in apparent exhaustion.
And beside him, even without his waistcoat, she would recognize that man anywhere.
For he bore the brown hair and thin build of her husband.
“Jacob!” She screamed his name and took off at a run.