TEN
The fight for survival had become too much. Every time Maggie thought she’d made it, tragedy struck, and a wave of depression sucked her back down. She couldn’t bear it anymore. Being here had simply been a temporary solution to her problems. Nothing had changed.
For a brief moment, she contemplated what it would be like if something happened to her. If she were to give up, would she find her family on the other side? But then, Henry’s face flashed into view and a pang went through her chest. He would never want her to give up.
The hour or two she’d spent hiding in the loft wasn’t helping. She needed a walk to bring her to her senses.
Mercifully, when she came downstairs, Abigail wasn’t in sight.
The bedroom door was closed. Maggie hurried out into the yard before Abigail could hear her and call for her.
The fall sunlight on her face felt like a tonic for her soul, but before she could bask in it, raised voices came from the direction of the barn.
Maggie crept across the yard and flattened herself against the side of the barn to see what was happening.
She caught the tail end of Levi speaking to the corporals about the watch. It didn’t look like it was going his way.
Sullivan cut Levi off. “No. It’s not up for any more discussion—Griffen and I will watch tonight.
It was careless for you to decide no one needed to last night.
You’ve got more to lose than anyone else should the sheep be attacked.
I should think you’d never want eyes away from them.
” The irony in his voice was undeniable.
Levi’s face was out of view, but his shoulders dropped as if he’d been defeated. “I was only thinking of the rest we will all need. It may be some time before the army returns. No need to wear ourselves out over things only God can control.”
Griffen half listened as he picked his teeth, lounging on a hay bale. Sullivan didn’t blink. He only moved his leg to kick Griffen lightly. “Griffen, you’re up.”
The short conversation was over.
Maggie hastened away back towards the house before the men could come out. Picking up a broom, she absently swept the porch and waited for Levi.
“I need to speak to Abigail,” he whispered in passing as he strode into the house.
As much as Maggie didn’t want to face Abigail yet, the urgency in his voice made her follow him inside.
“Abigail? Abigail?” Levi called out. But the house stood empty. Levi turned to Maggie. “Where is she?”
“Um, I’m not sure. I was in the loft for a bit,” Maggie couldn’t meet his eyes.
Levi walked into the parlor and made an odd sound.
Maggie ran in to see what was amiss.
Levi held a folded sheet of paper in his hand and was as white as a ghost. “Oh, dear God,” he said. Before Maggie could make sense of what just happened, he flung open the bedroom door.
Isham’s wrapped body lay on the bed, but otherwise, the room was empty. Levi threw open the dresser drawers, rummaging through.
“Levi,” Maggie gasped. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”
He flung the paper over his shoulder to Maggie.
Don’t worry about me, was scrawled neatly in the center and unsigned.
Maggie didn’t have to wonder at its meaning. Levi moaned, “Abigail’s gone to find Elijah alone. And now it’s too late.”
“What do you mean ‘it’s too late’? Wasn’t the plan for her to go tonight?”
Levi raked a hand over his hand, dropping a piece of clothing he’d grabbed.
“She wasn’t supposed to leave until much later tonight—after I’d had time to convince her to take thee with her.
And when no one would be on watch. But that’s all changed now with Corporal Sullivan.
And Abigail doesn’t know.” His face was a mask of pain.
Abigail would be coming back to a lion's den if Sullivan were on watch. They had to act fast.
“It’s me who has caused Sullivan the most suspicion, right? Then I need to fix this. I’ll go talk to him.”
“Maggie… I don’t think that will work.”
What would Abigail do?
“It might not,” she conceded. “But it’s worth a shot. And we’ll need to take them something to eat to keep them away from the house.”
Levi looked bleak—he wasn’t convinced.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” Maggie told him and quickly shut the bedroom door behind her before he could argue.
Griffen was sitting on the fence rail when Maggie left the house.
“Does he ever get up?” Maggie muttered under her breath. “Is Corporal Sullivan around?” She asked loudly.
Griffen just pointed at the barn and she swore she’d never met a man less intellectually inclined before. Or to put it less eloquently, the man was a dud.
Too bad we weren’t left with two duds.
She rounded the corner of the barn and found Sullivan rummaging through Elijah’s workshop tools. Pieces of half-started projects were jumbled on the tabletop, just as Elijah had left them.
“What are you doing?” She cried.
Startled, Sullivan dropped the small wooden mallet, and it landed on his boot. The words that came out of his mouth would make any regular woman blush. She, on the other hand, was accustomed to that kind of talk between her brothers.
“That’ll teach you before stealing any more than you already have.” The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them and she tensed. It was a mistake to embarrass him, especially without Levi’s presence.
Sullivan’s face turned the same shade of red as his hair. “For a southerner, you sure don’t talk like one. A bunch of Quakes take you in and suddenly you hate your own people? I hate to tell you, lady, but we’re the ones protecting you.”
Every fiber in her being urged to defend her friends. To tell him exactly what she thought of him. But that wouldn’t help Abigail, Levi, or Elijah in any way. Instead, for perhaps one of the first times in her life, she swallowed her tongue.
Choosing her words wisely, she flatly replied, “You don’t know anything about me.
” She took a cautious half-step backwards.
“I was coming to tell you that supper will be ready in an hour or so—I’ll bring it out when it is.
Levi’s getting some meat from the smokehouse.
He said we’re to go down to one meal a day to make the mutton last.”
The color in his face began to return to normal as Sullivan contemplated her words. Replacing the mallet back on the workbench, he walked over to the corner where he and Griffen kept their things. He picked up a small sack and held it out to her.
“Use this with the meal. Griffen won’t shut up if he eats plain meat another day.”
Judging his mood before she moved an inch, she hesitantly grabbed the sack and peeked inside.
It contained a small amount of flour and several little pouches of herbs, salt, and dried yeast. Enough for a little loaf of bread and something to season the mutton with. It’d be a feast compared to yesterday.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised.
Levi offered to help cook, as the corporals mustn’t think that Abigail wasn’t there.
Maggie was grateful for another hand, as cooking had never been her strongest skill. Levi prepared the meat, and she attempted to make bread. There wouldn’t be much time to let it rise, but it would have to do. The sooner they ate, the sooner everyone would be in place for the night.
They’d placed a candle in the parlor window to signal Abigail when she got close.
Maggie volunteered to take the plates out to the corporals alone. It’d gone fine earlier. Maybe she could talk to Sullivan again and set his mind at ease.
“Tread carefully, Maggie,” Levi cautioned.
When she got close to the barn, she could see Griffen’s figure. He hadn’t moved far, just from the fence rail over to the haystack.
He leapt up at the sight of the plates. “About time! Sullivan, get out of here,” he yelled. Not waiting on his companion, he snatched the plate from Maggie’s hand and stuffed his face.
Maggie didn’t bother to hide the disgust.
“Something you care to say?” Sullivan had noticed her expression as he came out of the barn.
Nothing you would like to hear. “Nope. Here’s yours.” She held out the second plate.
Sullivan didn’t take his eyes off her as he reached for it. The eye contact was a little unnerving. It reminded her of when Henry tried to read her thoughts. Except, this was most definitely not Henry, and that was the very opposite of what she wanted him to do.
At the sound of Griffen’s belch, she broke eye contact.
“I’ll take some more.” Griffen tossed the tin plate at Maggie.
Before it could reach her, Sullivan intercepted and caught the plate. He threw it back at Griffen. “You’ve had enough. Go wash your plate.”
Red from embarrassment or from being reprimanded, Griffen stood up. He walked over to Sullivan. “You aren’t my superior. If I want more food, it’s these Quakes job to get it for me.”
Sullivan’s hand shot out and grabbed Griffen’s shirt and pulled him forward until he was an inch from his face.
“Actually, I am since I’m the one left in charge,” he ground out.
“And in case it’s escaped you, until that wagon returns up this wretched mountain, we only have one sheep to eat, and whatever else is in our sacks.
So, while our brothers are off fighting for this country, you aren’t going to sit here getting fat while others starve.
Now, get out of my sight.” He let go of Griffen’s shirt so fast that Griffen almost fell on the ground.
The scene stunned Maggie. Her heart was in her throat as she watched Griffen scramble up and walk away. Can it get any worse?
Sullivan kept his back to her until Griffen was gone. In the shuffle, Sullivan had dropped his own dinner on the ground. She bent down and helped him pick it up. The meat was covered in dirt, but thankfully, the bread was hard enough that she was able to brush it off.
It was a sorry excuse for a meal, but still, she handed it to him. He rolled his eyes, no doubt thinking the same thing.
They stood in awkward silence. After that, she didn’t know how on earth she was going to get a conversation going.