The Tory's Daughter, page 5
Ducking into the barn so James didn’t bump his head, Joseph strode to the satchel that held seed. He would return to the fields so he could provide for his family. He was almost finished with the wheat, but the corn still needed to be planted. And most of the garden. Much of his time would also be spent helping Andrew with their planting. There was too much work to do to sit around thinking about the past.
He set James on the ground and loaded himself down with seed. Now that he knew who she was, it was impossible to not recognize Hannah. Though many of her features were inherent from her Mohawk mother, her bright brown eyes, straight nose and fairer complexion were her father’s.
Henry Cunningham.
Swallowing back a wave of nausea, Joseph thrust his hand into the grain and gripped a handful. “Come on, James, follow Papa.”
Little James’s sandy head bobbed, and he scampered after him. “Papa.”
Joseph paused. “I’m waiting for you.”
Though James had lost much of his baby appearance, his fat cheeks still jiggled when he ran. The rutted terrain did not make it easy for the youngster, and more than once James stumbled over the uneven earth. When they reached where Joseph had left off, he filled his son’s small hands.
“You help Papa plant, all right? Drop them in the furrow. Like this.”
His boy spread his fingers wide, shook the seed free and turned to Joseph. “More.”
“Let me finish mine first.”
A soft whoosh, like the wind through the nearby woods, slowed Joseph’s movements, and he glanced at the solid wall of trees. Nothing. Not even a breeze. Or bird song. Probably a deer, but the hair prickled on the back of his neck as he filled his son’s hands once again. His ears stayed attuned to the woods and the silence…and then the snapping of a twig. “Come here, James.” Joseph took a slow step toward his son, who had moved farther along the furrow to scatter his seed.
Thwack.
An arrow dug into the soil only inches from where James crouched.
Joseph snatched his son from the ground and pivoted to shield the child. Not that he would provide much protection once he was dead. “Oh, Lord, save my boy.” My children.
He sprinted to the barn, his pulse choking him as he waited for the razor tip of another arrow to spear his back. But they reached cover before an arrow struck the door they had just passed through. In the nearby pasture the milk cow’s sharp bellow announced death. Keeping James tight against him, Joseph stole a look at the crumpled beast. An arrow protruded from low in its neck. A killing shot.
A message. It had to be. They had spared human lives, but for what purpose?
Only one came to mind.
Hannah Cunningham. They were here for her.
Joseph hugged James and pressed a kiss to the fine hair on the top of his young head. If the raiding party had not missed on purpose, his son would be dead, as would he. And then the fire would come. Though Andrew had a good eye and a straight aim, he wouldn’t be able to hold them off on his own. Rachel and the babies would be left to the same fate as the woman they had saved from her burning home. Or worse.
What would save them once the raiding party got what they’d come for?
~*~
The cow’s bawl carried a pain Hannah was too familiar with. Death. She rushed to the window, only to be jerked aside.
“Stay back,” Andrew ordered, his voice hoarse. He grabbed the musket from over the door and loaded it with a speed she’d not expected from the gentleman.
“What’s happening?” Rachel was on her feet, the baby asleep in her arms. “What about Joseph and little James?”
“I cannot tell. Not from here.” In a step, Andrew leaned against the wall beside the door and eased it open a crack. He scanned the area. “If anything happens to me, bar the door. If there are raiders, break the windows and fight them off. Do not let them near the cabin.” He widened the door as though he planned to slip out.
“Where are you going?” Rachel questioned.
He didn’t look back. “To get Joseph.” Andrew’s knuckles showed white where he gripped the musket.
“Don’t.” Hannah threw her back against the door, slamming it closed.
“What are you doing?”
What was she doing? What did she need to do? Hannah snatched the pins from her hair. She should have anticipated this, planned for it. Otetiani would have returned for her after the Patriots left. He’d have found her tracks that led to Hunter, his large hooves and heavy frame making the trail easy to follow. Her skirmish with Joseph would have said she had not come of her own will. She’d brought him and his warriors here. If Joseph, or his son, or anyone else was killed, it would be her doing. Her sin. “I need to stop this.”
“Is that within your power?”
Hannah, glanced from Andrew’s questioning to Rachel’s wide eyes. Her look encompassed the children. “Let us hope it is.”
7
“You need to stay here, and stay silent.” Joseph tucked the saddle blanket around his son. In a dark corner, squeezed between a manger and the wall, James would remain out of sight and safe…so long as the barn wasn’t set to fire.
“No leave, Papa!” James grabbed his leg when he started to stand.
Joseph crouched back down and gripped his son. Oh, God, how can I do this? How could he leave his child here with nothing more than a prayer? “I won’t be far. Papa needs to chase the raiders away, and then I’ll be back for you. I promise.” A promise he was wrong to make. He’d never felt more sure of that. He fished Grandfather Garnet’s gold timepiece from his pocket and pushed it into his son’s hands. “You hold this for Papa, all right. But you have to stay quiet. Keep quiet so Papa can keep you safe.”
And alive.
The little boy whimpered, but his protests ended.
“I’ll be right back for you.” Joseph tucked the blanket back over his head and kissed his brow. “Papa loves you.” He smoothed his hand over the boy’s tousled hair. Hopefully his son would survive and remember that much.
By the time Joseph reached the barn door, the raiding party had moved their mounts to the edge of the field, just beyond the reach of the woods. Five warriors−their skin painted in reds and blacks, foreheads shaved high, hair pulled back with feathers and other ornamentation−evoked sufficient horror, but undoubtedly more hid out of sight, bows taut, muskets loaded.
He was weaponless. All these years of training himself to never leave the cabin without a weapon, and yet his pistol remained where he’d set it on the table. Thanks to Hannah Cunningham. He hadn’t been able to think straight since learning her identity. Joseph glanced back inside the barn. He didn’t have many options.
The door to the cabin creaked open, and Hannah strode across the yard toward the fields, her black hair wild past her shoulders as she pulled the last of the pins from it. Fannie’s gown swooshed around her legs with each step.
Joseph’s chest clenched. His mind screamed to grab her out of harm’s way, but he held himself at bay. These were her people. They would take her north with them to where she belonged.
Would they then be appeased? Or would they seek retribution as well?
He had to get to the cabin. He was of no use to anyone out here. But he would be an easy target without some form of cover.
Hannah paused as she passed the barn, and glanced back.
Or a hostage.
Her gaze froze on his, and he motioned to her. She shook her head.
“Hannah.”
“I can’t.” She turned away.
Couldn’t what? Help them? Not that he deserved her mercy or assistance, but no one else had done anything against her.
He couldn’t let everyone he held dear suffer because of his mistakes. Four long strides, and Joseph wrapped her in his arms. Keeping his profile low, he lifted her feet off the ground and hauled her backwards with him. An arrow swooshed past his ear and sank into the wood of the barn door beside the last one. Inside, he loosened his grip on Hannah only to get his chest smacked.
She tried to shove him back, but he wouldn’t budge.
“What are you doing?” She hit him again.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to save you and−” Her eyes widened and her head jerked from right to left, searching the shadows. Color drained from her face as it took on a look of terror.
“I told James to hide.”
Air whooshed from her lungs and she slapped her palm against his chest again. “Do you have any idea…?” She struggled against his hold. “Let me go.”
“Not until you help save my family.”
A spark lit in her eyes. “Don’t you think I’m trying to?” Her chin tipped up, and sharp pain bit his shin. Twisting away, she rushed the door.
He grabbed her arm.
“You are only making it worse.”
Her words stung even more than her kick. What if he was putting his family at greater risk by trying to keep her here? Maybe their best hope was to trust her. “All right.” He let go.
She stepped into the doorway. “I remember your mama when she was sick, sitting in her rocking chair at the front of the cabin so she could read her Bible in the sunlight. Your Pa was a believing man, too.” Hannah glanced back, her large eyes seeming darker. “I don’t know anything about your God, but perhaps you should pray.” She stepped out from the protection of the barn. Hem lifted, she strode toward the war-painted Mohawks.
His heart thudded and squeezed so tight he could scarce take a breath. A whimpering cry pulled him to where James huddled, tear stains streaking his full cheeks. “Come here,” Joseph whispered. He folded his arms around his little son and bowed his head. “We need to ask God for help.” They would soon know with certainly if He took any interest in their lives.
~*~
Hannah could hardly hear past the rush of her pulse in her ears. She wasn’t concerned with her own safety. Her cousin’s large bay pawed the soft field. She tucked her hair behind her ears and jogged across the deep ruts.
“You did not stay where I told you.” Speaking in Kanien’kéha, he motioned to the mare he had given her to ride, now with one of the other braves astride.
“I am sorry,” she answered in her mother’s tongue.
“And these men took you?” He aimed a glare at the barn and cabin, his expression fierce under onegonsera, the crimson painted across his eyes and forehead.
“They were trying to help me.” Perhaps not the full truth, but not a lie either. “They can help me find my brothers.”
“No.” He extended his hand. “You will come now. We go.”
Hannah only took one step. “But…” Joseph had given her no answer about whether he would help her, but she still believed he could.
“They hate you like they hate us. You are not safe here.”
And yet, strangely, that was the one thing she felt sure of. She was safe. “I need to find my brothers.”
He glared. It did not seem to matter to him that they’d had no choice but to join the Continental Army. “I will seek them.”
“No.” That wouldn’t work. Couldn’t work. Where would they even start looking? How many farms would burn, and people would die before they found any answers? They couldn’t walk into one of the forts or settlements and simply ask about her brothers. If anything, Otetiani would only place her brothers in more danger. “I want to stay here. Joseph Garnet has promised to help me. You must leave his home and fields alone so he can do so without fear.” Please.
Jaw strung tight, Otetiani looked out across the acres of clearing to the homestead. “This Joseph Garnet is a man of honor?”
“Yes.” At least his father had been.
“Then I will speak with him.”
Hannah froze. Did she trust her cousin with Joseph’s life? “No.”
He crossed his arms, a smug look on his face. “I will not leave you here until I have spoken with this man.”
No other choice remained then, except to leave with him. She couldn’t do that. “As you wish.” Hannah turned back to the barn.
Joseph’s tall frame filled the doorway.
He would probably never agree to her cousin’s request. Still, she had to ask, and hope all this could be resolved without anyone dying.
Joseph frowned as she drew near. “What did he say?”
“He wants to speak with you.” At Joseph’s rippled brow, she sneaked a breath and rushed on. “I told him you promised to help find my brothers, but he says he will not leave me here until he has spoken with you.”
“You really believe he plans on talking, or does he merely want an easy scalp?”
“He asked if you were a man of honor. My cousin is, as well.” If only she could summon more confidence. Otetiani had given no guarantees of Joseph’s safety.
“And if I don’t? What do you think he’ll do?”
Hannah’s fears piled up as she glanced from the cabin to the warriors. “I don’t know.”
Joseph nodded. “Tell him I will come as soon as I’ve delivered my son safely to the cabin.”
“I’ll tell him.” She turned to go.
“And Hannah.”
She glanced at him.
“If I survive this−if my family survives this−I will help you find your brothers.”
“Thank you.” Though she guessed the promise was made more for his own sake than for hers. If Otetiani did turn to anger, how much did Joseph stand to lose?
Everything.
She raced back, out of breath by time she reached the warriors who had now dismounted. She repeated Joseph’s message and watched the ridges lining Otetiani’s frown deepen.
“He has a wife, then?”
“No, his wife died with the birth of their second child.” At least that’s what evidence suggested. Envy and pity mingled into a feeling she didn’t recognize.
Joseph appeared around the side of the barn, arms empty, hat low on his head, and movements stiff.
Hannah tensed. She could imagine what it felt like to walk toward what might be his execution. “You must promise me you won’t harm him.”
Otetiani’s eyes narrowed. “His life matters so much to you?”
Hannah couldn’t remove her gaze from the lone figure as he approached. “I gave him my word that you wish only to speak.” But she couldn’t deny the raw fear.
“Then I shall speak. And you will tell him my words.”
“Of course.”
Joseph stopped several yards off and raised his hands from his sides so his lack of weapons was evident.
“Waneek says you are a man of honor, and she trusts you to help find her brothers. Is this the truth?”
Hannah translated, leaving her Mohawk name as spoken.
Joseph looked to her, and then back to Otetiani. “Yes. I will do all I am able.”
“I ask one more thing−that you take her to shelter and provide for her as your wife.”
Only half the words made it past Hannah’s throat before it closed off. She rotated to her cousin. “Yáh!” How could he demand such a thing without first asking her?
Instead of heeding her, Otetiani spoke to Joseph, his English faulty but clear. “I not leave her unless she your Tiakení:teron.”
Joseph looked to her. “I don’t understand.”
Hannah suddenly felt cold. “He says he won’t leave unless I am your wife.”
8
His wife?
Joseph had been braced for an arrow to the heart, not a suggestion of marriage. What would result if he refused? Something warm tickled his neck, and he swiped at a bead of sweat. He studied Hannah. Surely this was not her idea. Her cheeks flushed with scarlet as she argued with whom he assumed was Otetiani−her relation. He’d seen the man before, but never so close. And never without a weapon in hand.
“What do you decide?”
Joseph forced his hands to remain relaxed at his sides. “I don’t think she wants to be my…” He wouldn’t attempt the word the Mohawk leader used. “Wife.”
The man did not appear pleased.
Joseph glanced from Hannah, hair again flowing down her back and shoulders, to the cabin holding everyone he loved. He couldn’t risk their lives. And he did need a mother for his children. To shelter and provide for. He owed her that much, didn’t he? Joseph gulped back the nagging of his conscience. He couldn’t think about that right now. “But I am willing.”
Hannah’s eyes widened at him, and he managed a nod. What other choice did he have? He was unarmed against over a dozen Mohawk warriors, and his family’s fate hung precariously.
Hannah grabbed his arm and dragged him out of earshot of the others. “He cannot force me to do this. In our traditions, a woman has her choice in marriage.”
So she could walk away and leave him to whatever fate Otetiani decided. Not comforting. “Perhaps, but I get the feeling your relation will not take my refusal lightly. Why is he so set on you marrying?”
“He says I am much like my father and would be happier with his people. Where so many of our men have died, and with the clans displaced, he says it is better for me to find a husband elsewhere.” She sighed and hugged herself. “And because I seek my brothers…”
“Let me help you find them.”
Two creases bunched between her large brown eyes. “You want to go through with this?”
Guilt for his deeper reasoning speared him—reasoning both to take responsibility for her, and remain at arms’ length. “I want my family safe. And I want to help you find your brothers.”
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, but she nodded. “I shall speak with Otetiani.” Her voice was much more resigned.
A few minutes later, Joseph made his way back over the rutted field toward the cabin. His one request was for who would perform the deed. The door jerked open before he even reached it, and he stepped inside.
“What’s going on out there?” Rachel’s tone was sharp enough to startle the baby. She rocked the child and lowered her voice. “Joseph?”
“Negotiations.”
“Papa!” James attacked Joseph’s legs, almost throwing him off balance.
