Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
brIGIT
Early November
It’s been several nights since the storm. Now, when the fire burns down to coals, Elijah finds his way inside the wagon. He hasn’t asked, nor have I told him not to. Waking beside him, hearing his steady breathing, I feel safer than I have in a long while.
The road has been rough these past days, rutted and slow.
There is a wildness and freedom to this land that calls to me.
Along the way, I’ve found wonderful plants—yarrow, goldenrod, and a kind of mint that smells sharp and clean when crushed.
I’ve begun gathering what I can, tying small bundles to dry.
Elijah wastes no time. Each morning he’s up before dawn, driving us west with a quiet determination that humbles me. He’s shown only patience and care, though I keep from him the one truth that could undo us both.
By the time I crawled from the wagon, Elijah had coaxed the fire back to life and set a kettle among the coals.
“Thought you might like some warm water to clean the babe’s hands and face,” he said. “Plenty for you, too.”
“Thank you,” I said, wondering how many men would have thought of such a kindness. I dipped a clean cloth into the warm water, cleaned Patrick, and handed him to Martha to feed. After cleaning my face, I set out bread, dried meat, and cheese for our breakfast.
Elijah’s settlement was growing before we even reached it.
Since we met Silas, we’d taken on more wagons, including one carrying tools and seed, the other hauling the mill stones.
It meant extra hired hands to help. Elijah has also admitted two other families to join us.
Their talk centered around what to expect in the days ahead.
When the meal was finished, Elijah doused the fire. The clatter of supplies being reloaded and the soft snickers of the horses filled the damp morning air as the wagons prepared to move on.
Most mornings, Silas and Elijah rode ahead, scouting for any signs of trouble, leaving Ford, one of the new teamsters, to drive our wagon. So when Elijah climbed into the seat beside me and gathered the reins, I looked at him in surprise.
At my questioning look, he grinned. “Ford is taking my spot today.”
I smiled back. “I’m glad for your company,” I admitted.
For what felt like miles, the wagons jolted along a path worn by travelers who’d gone before us. Elijah asked questions as we went: about Ireland and my family. His voice was steady, coaxing, and I found myself answering more freely than I meant to.
“It must have been hard,” he said after a pause, “leaving it all behind.”
“Aye,” I said quietly. “Nora loved it best of all. She—”
I stopped, breath catching, but it was too late. I had said her name without thought, and the way Elijah’s head turned sharply told me he had noticed. His green eyes searched mine, keen and unyielding.
“Nora?” he repeated softly.
Heat rushed to my face. “I—I meant my ma’s sister,” I said quickly.
He studied me for a long moment, the reins loose in his hands. “Mm,” he said at last, his voice unreadable.
I turned my gaze forward, praying he would not press further. The steady creak of the wagon and the rhythm of the horses’ hooves filled the silence. But I felt his eyes on me, thoughtful and sharper than I wished.
Then, without warning, the wagons ahead creaked to a halt, drivers calling to steady their teams. Elijah frowned, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the commotion ahead.
“I’d best see what’s happened.” He passed the reins into my hands, his gaze steady on mine.
My eyes widened. “Me?” I stared at the pair of bays in front of the wagon. They were steady animals, quick to respond to his voice, but I wasn’t sure how they’d take to mine.
He gave a quiet chuckle. “Aye. You’ve seen me handle them enough. They’ll mind you if you keep steady.”
“Elijah, what if—”
“You’ll manage,” he said firmly. “Keep your hands light and your voice steady. I trust you, Brigit.”
The words lodged deep, heavier than he could know. In this, at least, I could prove him right.
Rumors filtered back even as Elijah strode ahead—an oak brought down from an earlier storm, blocking the road until the men could clear it. I sat straighter on the bench, tightening my grip on the reins. The mules shifted beneath the harness, ears twitching at every sound.
Suddenly, a deer burst from the brush, crashing across the trail in a blur of muscle and antlers. The team startled, jerking in their traces. My hands tightened on the lines, trying to keep them clear of the ox wagons ahead.
“Easy now… steady.” I kept my voice low and even. They tossed their heads, snorting, but settled.
Then a musket cracked—the sharp report splitting the air. The bays flinched, the whites of their eyes flashing as they bolted.
My arms burned, and my shoulders screamed, but I held tight, fighting to bring them around, but it wasn’t enough.
Hoofbeats thundered behind me. Elijah’s black gelding swept alongside, his face taut with fear. He leaned low in the saddle, reaching for the near horse’s harness, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The team fought him for a breathless moment, then slowed, sides heaving. Only then did Elijah swing from his horse and climb onto the wagon, taking the reins from my shaking hands.
He pulled me into his arms. “If you’d been thrown…” He broke off, letting out a sharp breath. “Thank God Patrick is in the wagon with Martha this morning. If anything happened to you, either of you, I don’t… I can’t even think on it.”
“Elijah…” My heart hammered as I sought the courage to tell him everything. “I must tell you—”
A sharp whistle split the air. Someone shouted Elijah’s name, and the moment passed.
He hesitated, his eyes lingering on mine before jumping from our wagon.
Relief and disappointment washed through me.
I pressed down the words that had bubbled so near to my lips, hoping they might stay hidden a little longer.
At least long enough for my husband to fall in love with me, as I was falling for him.
If Elijah came to love me first—truly love me—then perhaps the truth, when it finally came, would not destroy us.
It was a fragile hope, born of both fear and longing. But it was all I had.