Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Shamed and Blamed
With a hood pulled over her head, and her valise with borrowed clothing in hand, Clara followed Amos through the campgrounds.
If anyone paid them any mind, she couldn’t be certain.
She’d been far too afraid to look, but given how very few knew of her arrival, it had been relatively seamless getting from the stockade to Amos’s dory.
Or rather, it was seamless until she needed to get on board said dory.
“I am not riding in that,” Clara said.
Amos huffed. “With all due respect, it’s either that or swim.”
“But…! I have never been in a boat,” she said, dismayed. “How am I to navigate?”
Rolling his eyes, Amos took her valise, stepped into the dory, and then held out his hand. “I’m navigatin’. You jus’ sit there and do nothin’…somethin’ I’m sure you’re mighty accustomed to.”
Clara harrumphed, not appreciating the barb. Nevertheless, she knew it was either this or stay and face treason charges, so after taking his hand, she lifted her leg and fell into the small vessel.
“Whoa, there!” Amos exclaimed, dropping the bag to catch her waist. “Lord above, have y’never walked before?”
“Not on water,” she seethed, furiously shoving him away. The momentum made her totter, and, lacking all poise, she stumbled and landed upon a bow seat. Face coloring, she straightened her skirts and checked the pins in her hair. “How long will it be?”
“Not long,” Amos assured her. “An hour or two, give or take. With as careful as Moony’s accommodations haf’ta be, we might make it there before ’im.”
“Oh.” Clara nodded, though her features melded into remorseful sadness.
She didn’t want to think about Benjamin.
Somehow, with her own possible sentence on the horizon, she’d been able to ignore the inevitable and pretend he was still well, that he was still unharmed, and that her actions hadn’t been the ones to unravel him.
“You all right?”
Clara looked up from the water, troubled, before offering Amos a tight smile. “If you persist in the gallantry, this is going to be a long ride.”
Amos huffed. “I think the whole ‘this is gonna be a long ride’ bit is my line, but you’re right…I’ll stop.”
His expression shifted to something melancholy, and Clara realized he must be thinking of Benjamin.
They were close friends, far closer than she’d ever been with any woman, and a sting of envy unfurled within her breast. No one beyond her sisters gave a flying fig about her, and as she watched Amos stew in silence, that truth never rang clearer.
Drawing her cloak beneath her chin, Clara closed her eyes and attempted to calm her racing thoughts.
Unfortunately, Amos was right. When they arrived via horseback at a saltbox house, which was nowhere near to the opulence Clara was accustomed, she was disappointed to find Benjamin hadn’t yet been delivered to the Hoskin residence.
That meant she’d have to meet his father, nay, a reverend, with no one but Amos as a shield.
With a shuddery breath, she clutched her valise as Amos escorted her up the long, dirt pathway to the door.
“C’mon now,” he coaxed. “What’re you all tongue-tied for, uh? What happened to that speech about holy men?”
“Those holy men weren’t fathers of rebels. Correction, enemy soldiers I’ve led into harm’s way,” Clara sharply replied. “Although I don’t believe you’ve told him the truth, I cannot imagine it’ll stay a secret for long.”
Amos whistled. “By St. George…didn’t think about that.”
“Nor did I,” Clara admitted. “Men of the cloth are often impersonal, supercilious, and cold, but Benjamin is none of those things…and surely, he inherited some of his father’s traits? Reverend Hoskin must be a kind man, a fair man, but regardless, he’ll hate whoever wronged his son.”
“Hate’s a mighty strong word for a man o’ God,” Amos reminded her.
“Two years ago, while fetchin’ supplies for a trade, I accidentally set Josiah’s stockade on fire.
If he forgave me for nearly costin’ ’im an entire winter’s worth o’ supplies, he can forgive you for doin’ what’cha thought was necessary. ”
Clara’s gaze hardened. “Do you forgive me?”
Amos appraised her, perplexed. “I never thought to blame you…”
“I blame me,” she softly said. “Major Yates asked for my help, and I gave it without hesitation.”
The cabinetmaker moved to reply, but the front door opened and a tall, robust man with graying, light-brown hair and kind, penetrating blue eyes stepped over the threshold. Clara drew to a stop.
“Amos McQuinn!” the man crowed, relief alighting his weary features. “Thank you for sending word of Benjamin’s condition. Is he close by?”
“Aye, shouldn’t be long,” Amos assured him.
Approaching the older man, he drew him down for a tight embrace.
“You all right then?” When Josiah nodded, Amos explained, “That young lass back there is Clara Boyd. She’s a camp follower, an’ gifted with medicine.
I think she’ll do a fine job helpin’ Moony get acclimated, if y’wouldn’t mind the assistance. ”
The man hummed. “That would be wonderful, yes. Thank you both for being so considerate.”
Clara balked, blinking between them in shock.
She was not proficient in medicine, and she certainly wasn’t gifted beyond holding court.
A faint bloom of red stained her cheeks once she realized Benjamin’s father was appraising her.
Awkwardly, she dipped into a curtsy. “Clara Boyd, sir,” she greeted.
“Reverend Josiah Hoskin,” he replied, offering a deep bow. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Boyd. Won’t you come in? I’ll show you to your room.”
Finally, Clara’s self-assurance returned and she brightened. “Charmed, Reverend. I see now where your son gets his unshakable charisma.”
Fortunately for her, Josiah seemed pleased by her demeanor. That was when Amos cleared his throat.
“I’mma head out an’ see if I can find Ben’s caravan,” he said. “That way, I might be able to help.”
Clara’s eyes widened in alarm. “You’re leaving?”
“Aye, jus’ for a bit. I trust they’re not too far behind. Besides…” he spared her a brief once-over, “this’ll give you two a chance to get acquainted, eh?”
Perhaps Amos wasn’t nearly as forgiving as he’d claimed. Pursing her mouth, Clara nodded in faux acquiescence. “As you wish, Corporal. Thank you for accompanying me.”
“Corporal,” Josiah echoed, a fond pride brimming within his gaze. “It’s incredible how my two favorite people have now been promoted.”
Amos flashed a smile that never reached his eyes.
Once they’d all said a proper farewell, the cabinetmaker rode off, and Josiah led Clara inside the cozy clapboard saltbox.
“I haven’t housed a woman since my wife’s passing,” he said, “so my apologies if the arrangements aren’t to your standards.”
Clara took in the modest living room. A fowling piece hung on the wall over the fireplace, and two rocking chairs were seated across the hearth.
Other than these and a small dining room table set, there was very little to be found.
The spartan furnishings proved the Hoskin residence was lacking a woman’s touch, and unbidden, a pang of pity swelled within her breast. Had Benjamin grown up without his mother?
He’d mentioned Mrs. Hoskin briefly during their last talk, but Clara hadn’t thought to ask.
Josiah seemed embarrassed as he showed her around. The expression was one she’d seen on Benjamin many a time, and Clara promised, “This is more than sufficient, Reverend. Thank you for your hospitality.”
On this matter, she was truthful. He was far more gracious than many of the wealthy hosts she’d endured over the years, and his eagerness to please was genuine, as opposed to the cloying, infernal bottom kissers her father brought into her life.
“Well…” Josiah gestured toward the guest bedroom. “This was my son’s room, and now it’s yours.”
Clara frowned. “Won’t Benjamin need it himself?”
A morose smile touched the reverend’s mouth and he shook his head, placing his hand fondly against the entryway.
“No,” he murmured. “No, this was not Benjamin’s…
though he and his brother shared it for a time.
” Josiah’s gaze grew wet within the candlelight, yet Clara decided she was mistaken once he chuckled and waved a hand.
“As I said, it’s yours now. And if you need any additional clothing, you may also borrow from my late wife’s belongings.
” He cleared his throat. “Supper is at six, so I hope you will join us.”
Clara nodded. “Yes, of course…thank you, sir.” They shared a brief bow and curtsy, and Josiah left her to her business.
With the Hoskin residence ahead, a sour, churning sensation overtook Benjamin’s gut. The sky blurred in and out of focus, and remaining on his back, the cart tossed him about with each dip in terrain. Amos was sitting alongside him and glanced down with concern.
“You all right there, Moony?”
“Never better,” he muttered.
“Oi, no need to be an arsehole,” Amos grumbled. “Clara’s fine, y’know. I did everything ya asked. Try showin’ a bit o’ gratitude, aye? You’re alive. That’s far more than others can say.”
Benjamin’s eyes welled up, and a painful lump formed in his throat. He was alive. He was alive, while other men—Daniel—were dead. Life truly wasn’t fair. In his instance, the second chance was wasted. He could do nothing in his present state.
The cart rolled to a halt, and the men transporting him started to argue, specifically, about where to carry his stretcher. That was when a new voice entered the fray.
“Thank you, gentlemen, but all that fussing won’t be necessary,” Josiah called to them. “One of my neighbors, Mrs. Harriet Finch, has been kind enough to lend me her late husband’s bath chair. Bring Benjamin inside, and we’ll see that he’s comfortable.”