Prologue
brISTOL ALLEN
PRESENT DAY
The front door slammed.
“I can tell the spring planting has started,” my sister, Cameron, announced. She kicked off her shoes, grabbed a glass of sangria, and plopped on the couch. “I crawled behind a tractor for ten minutes and learned things about patience I didn’t know I possessed.”
Laughter rippled through the room filled with the women in my family who’d gathered for girls’ night.
“I might have learned a little about patience waiting for you,” I answered, rolling my eyes. Of all nights for someone to be late.
“Wow, hostile much?” she shot back, lifting her glass in mock defense.
I stuck my tongue out at her. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve been waiting for days to share something with you guys.”
Paige leaned forward. “Oh, sounds intriguing. I can’t believe you didn’t mention anything at work.”
“I didn’t want to spoil it. And I wanted all of you to hear at the same time.” I knew I was teasing them, but this was too good.
“You’re testing my patience again,” Cam growled.
“Okay. Here goes.” I held up some papers, careful to handle them gently. “You guys will not believe what I found in my attic.”
Emalee looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Bristol, please tell me you didn’t go up there alone. You’re seven months pregnant. You shouldn’t be climbing ladders.”
“Calm down. I was careful,” I told my cousin with a wave of my hand. “It was barely more than a glorified step stool.” I grinned at her. “The real danger was trying not to pee my pants when I sneezed every few minutes from stirring up the dust.”
She rolled her eyes, but I saw her biting back a grin. My soon-to-be sister-in-law, Anna, raised an eyebrow. “What were you even doing up there?”
“I don’t think anyone has gone through it since our grandparents built this house and put a bunch of old heirlooms there.
I guess I was feeling nostalgic and was looking for an old cradle I could have sworn I saw, and I thought I’d see if it was worth fixing up.
There’s definitely a ton of old stuff, but I didn’t find a cradle. But I did find something even better.”
“What?” everyone demanded.
“An old chest. Reid brought it down, and we broke the lock. You’ll never believe what was in there.”
Cam leaned forward. “Tell me it’s full of treasure.”
“Not the money kind. But something equally as good. There were old deeds and letters. Original ones.”
Emalee’s expression changed from concerned to intrigued. “How old are we talking?”
“1700’s,” I said.
That got their attention.
“And,” I added, lifting an old sheet of paper, “the deeds are signed by Elijah Allen.”
Anna sat up straighter. “Wait—wasn’t he our ancestor who established the town of Sterling Mill?”
I nodded. “Yep. These are the original land deeds. According to the dates and seals, the land was granted to him for his service in the American Revolution.”
My sister carefully took the old document. “Wait. This says North Carolina, not Tennessee.”
Em’s face scrunched. “If I remember my history right, this land was once considered part of North Carolina before Tennessee became its own state.”
“It took strong people to settle here,” Anna mused.
“There’s more,” I said, sorting through the papers.
“Along with the deeds were letters between Elijah and someone named Jeremy in Ireland. At a glance, it looks a little like they were negotiating terms for a possible marriage. Elijah mentioned how hard it was to find a woman who was willing to move to the wilderness. His friend wrote back saying he knew a woman who needed a fresh start.”
I glanced down at the letter and read:
“She comes from a sturdy family and is pleasant to the eye. She will travel with linen sheets, Irish woven wool blankets, a copper kettle, seeds, five chickens, and five goats, including two milking does, one female yearling, and one male two years of age.”
Paige snorted. “Like a dowry?”
I shrugged. “Sounds like it.”
She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “So he married livestock.”
Emalee, always the soft-hearted one, shook her head. “Life was different then. Those animals meant survival.”
Anna’s brow creased. “But why would she want to marry a stranger? Surely if the dowry was that valuable, she could have married someone in Ireland.”
I glanced back at the letter. “It sounds a little like her family sent her away. Reading between the lines, I think she might have had an affair with a married man.”
“So of course she’s the one to pay the price,” Paige sniffed.
I couldn’t argue. “Options for women were limited back then,” I agreed.
“Jeremy thought Nora would be a good partner since she grew up in a similar landscape in Ireland. It sounds like their families knew each other at some point. I guess Elijah was interested enough to pay for her fare to America.”
Cam looked confused. “Who’s Nora? I’m pretty sure Brigit is recorded in the family bible as Elijah’s wife.”
I rested my hand on the leather-bound book hidden by the papers on my lap. “There was one more thing in the chest.” I lifted the worn, leather-bound book.
Anna gasped. “Is that a journal?”
I grinned. “It sure is. Maybe we’ll find some answers. I haven’t read any of it. I thought we could read it together.”
There was a pause before everyone started talking at once.
“Oh my gosh, read it!”
“Start at the beginning!”
“This is so exciting!”
I laughed and carefully flipped open the cover. The paper inside was thick and yellowed with age. The ink had faded in places, but the handwriting was neat, almost delicate. I wondered if the woman who wrote it had been the same way.
Clearing my throat with dramatic flair, I settled back in my chair. The room quieted, everyone leaning in like we were about to summon ghosts. I guessed, in a way, we were. \
“All right, here we go,” I said, and began to read aloud.
Late September, 1785
At sea on The Providence
The world I left behind feels smaller each day.
They say the land ahead is vast, and forgiving, that a person may begin again there, if he is willing to work hard.
I pray the man who holds my indenture will be kind.
Perhaps the people of this new country are less inclined toward superstition, and I may use my skills without reproach.
But hope is a fragile thing, best kept quiet until it proves it can survive.
“Wait,” Cam interrupted. “She mentioned indenture,” she said. “Did anyone else catch that? That doesn’t match any story I’ve heard about our family.”
There was a brief pause before Anna tilted her head. “Do you know whose journal it is?”
I looked down at the worn leather cover in my hands. “It doesn’t say.”
“Well,” Paige said finally, “either way, I want to know what happens when this woman reaches here.”
“So do I,” Cam agreed.
I glanced at the journal again. “Let’s find out.”