Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
ELIJAH
We were making better time than I predicted.
Brigit, as she now preferred to be called, never uttered a complaint, though fatigue created dark circles under her eyes.
She kept Patrick close, as if she didn’t want him to be a burden.
But every evening, I made time to hold him.
He might not be mine by blood, but every time he held my eyes or gripped my finger as I walked with him and told him silly stories, it stirred something deep in my chest.
As we passed through one town, I’d found Martha Gentry, a name given to me by the tavern keeper. She’d buried a husband and baby during an outbreak of illness and had been grateful for the offer of steady work as a wet nurse for Patrick.
“I did not expect you to think of such a thing,” Brigit commented softly one evening as she stirred a pot of stew.
I shrugged. “The child cannot thrive on hope alone. Martha needed a fresh start as much as we needed her. She will give you some female companionship along the ride, and her older children will be welcome hands as well.”
Her eyes lifted to mine. “’Tis a mercy I’ll not forget.”
“You’re my wife. And Patrick is now my son. Do you think me so cold that I wouldn’t care for both of you?”
Something flickered in her gaze. “It feels like we are still strangers,” she murmured.
I added another small log onto the fire, careful not to send ash into the pot. “That will change with time.”
She ladled some stew onto plates, and we ate side by side while Martha fed Patrick in the wagon. It was one of the few times we shared alone, and I found myself looking more and more forward to this time of day.
“Tell me more about what lies ahead,” she said. “I feel like I should know more. About your home. I don’t even know where we are.” She laughed softly, the sound like musical notes in the still evening air.
“We’re in North Carolina on a path known as the Wagon Road. Soon, we’ll fork to the west and continue into the mountains.” I poked at the fire, the sparks disappearing into the night sky. “I have land there, over a thousand acres of good timber and fertile soil. Payment for my service in the war.”
I hesitated and glanced cautiously at her. She came from Ireland, which was still under the same crown I’d fought against. I wasn’t sure how she might view a man who’d defied his king.
For a moment, she was quiet. Then, with a slight nod, she said, “I understand wanting to be free of a weight that’s not of your own making.”
Her words caught me off guard. There was more behind them than she intended, I was certain. But I didn’t press. We had a long road ahead and plenty of time to learn each other’s truths.
I nodded toward the darkness beyond the fire. “A few families have already begun to settle on the land. Men and women I trust enough to let them stake a claim, clearing ground now with the promise of ownership once things are properly surveyed.”
Out there, most everything depended on people keeping their word. I had a feeling Brigit understood that better than most.
“And you lead them?”
I hesitated. “Not exactly. But I had the notion of what the place could be, and they look to me to see it through.”
“Feels strange to call a place I’ve never been home. Tell me more about it.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, unable to resist a smile.
“Forests as far as you can see. Stunning rainbows over the ridge after a storm. My cabin is built near a creek that sparkles with mica. I call it Silver Creek Farm. But if all goes well with this trip, I hope the settlement will earn a name of its own.”
“What are you bringing back to make such a difference?” She glanced around our camp as if searching for something she hadn’t yet seen.
“Stones.”
“Stones?” Her brow creased. “Have the fairy folk turned your head, then?”
Her response, full of Irish lilt, drew a chuckle from me. “I arranged for the stones from a quarry back east. Salisbury’s as far as they can be hauled by proper road. Those wagons are a few days' ride ahead of us. Silas rode ahead to oversee them.”
Her eyes lit with understanding. “A mill! That’s wonderful. It will root your community, sure as the sun finds the sky.”
“Aye. We’ll trade some of the horses for mules, and with rope, sweat, and hopefully the Lord’s grace, we’ll manage. Silas is organizing wagons full of other necessities to carry us through the winter. He’s gifted with making deals and knowing what we need.”
“Silas will be joining us?”
“Yes. He was one of the first men I invited to join me.”
She chewed thoughtfully. “He’s…interesting.”
I gave her a small smile. “He is. But I’ve never known a more loyal friend.”
“A pirate? Loyal?”
I hid my smile behind my cup. “Silas and I grew up together along the coast of Virginia. He always loved the water. Ran away to the sea as a boy. Eventually, he became the captain of his own ship. During the war, he was a blockade runner.”
“A blockade runner?”
“Yes. He had a fast ship and quicker wits. It earned him the name Sea Fox. Dangerous work, but someone had to do it. He just likes to let people think he’s a pirate.”
“And now he’s left the sea behind?”
I hesitated. “Let’s just say he has no taste to go back. Said the sea takes more than it gives.”
She studied me. “You trust him.”
“With my life,” I answered simply. Then I let the crackle of the fire fill the silence. Silas’s story was his own to tell.
Martha returned, and I beckoned her to pass Patrick to me. I eased myself against a log and made funny faces at him while Brigit watched. Her expression softened, but I still recognized a shadow in her eyes.
I knew she’d been wronged by a man back in Ireland. Promises made, then broken. A ruined reputation. It stirred something primal in me—a quiet wish to protect her and prove a man’s word still meant something. Sometimes, it was all he had.
“You’re good with him,” she said quietly.
“He’s a strong little thing,” I said, smiling at Patrick. “Fights to stay awake, fights to be heard. That will serve him well.”
Her lips curved faintly, her eyes soft with pride. I was certain it was for her son, but I hoped she shared a little of the pride for me.
Slowly, the noise from the other wagons quieted as the firelight played across her features.
For once, she looked completely at ease.
A loose curl brushed her cheek. I’d only had to move my hand a few inches, and I could tuck it behind her ear.
An excuse to touch her again. An opportunity to see if she would react the same way she had when I kissed her after our vows.
But I remained still. I wanted her trust.
“We should get some sleep,” I said at last. “After we meet Silas, the days will only get harder. Best get some rest while you can.”
I stayed by the fire after she took Patrick and went to bed inside the wagon. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before a light rain began to fall, the drops hissing against the embers.
“Elijah?” Her low voice carried from the wagon. The canvas shifted, and she leaned out, a braid falling over her shoulder.
Startled, I stood quickly. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Come inside before you’re soaked through.”
I hesitated. “I’ll be fine,” I answered, pulling my hat lower on my head.
Her head lowered, then lifted again. “’Tis not right. You may come inside.”
The words felt heavier than the drops. But as the rain grew steadier, I found myself moving toward the wagon. Toward her. Toward my wife.