Frontier Bride. Ana Seymour

Instead of leaving behind the memories, it seemed as if they were becoming stronger. Much of the talk around the camp fire that evening had been about warm home fires and soft beds and Jeanne MacDougall’s apple pies. Hannah had assured the children that they would be picking up such supplies as flour and lard at Fort Pitt before they started down the Ohio. She promised them that when they had their own homestead they would make pies of their own. She didn’t know about apples. How long did it take to grow an apple tree, she wondered?

      The truth was that, with the possible exception of Ethan Reed and young Jacob, all of them were in varying degrees of physical misery.

      Peggy and the two Trask girls giggled over their oddly placed pains in secret, and Hannah could see that a slow bond was beginning to form among them in the way that it does with young girls. The friend-ship was good for Peggy, who had been isolated for too long, but it left Jacob more alone than ever.

      Seth and Eliza, by far the oldest members of the group, had ridden along without complaint, quietly protective of each other and unfailingly cheerful with everyone.

      Nancy Trask had also made no protest at the long hours on the trail. The previous afternoon Hugh had loudly proclaimed to the entire party that his “arse” was as raw as a skinned chicken and he wasn’t going another mile. Ethan had calmly invited him to follow at whatever pace he liked and then had continued on up the trail with the rest of the group following docilely behind.

      As for Randolph, Hannah wasn’t quite sure what to think about her employer’s condition. He had not complained, certainly, but neither had he been the buoyant adventurer who she had watched plan this journey. His enthusiasm for the trip seemed to have disappeared, and when he spoke to her at all, it was with a diffidence that she had never before noticed in him.

      She didn’t know exactly when it was that she had begun to suspect that Randolph’s uncharacteristic churlishness toward Ethan came from a kind of jealousy of the frontiersman’s attention to Hannah her-self. It was hard to believe, because it implied that Randolph held some sort of regard for Hannah beyond that of an employer, which he had never before given her reason to suppose. And, of course, any thought of jealousy was absurd, because Hannah was sure that Ethan Reed’s compliments to her and smiles and winks meant nothing. He treated gray-haired Eliza Baker with the same mockingly flirtatious manner.

      “A penny for your thoughts, mistress.”

      Hannah jumped as Ethan’s voice came out of the darkness. Most of the group had retired for the night. Hannah had tried to go to sleep earlier in the little tent she shared with Peggy and Jacob, but had been unable to find a comfortable position for her jolted bones. Finally she had given up and come out to sit by the fire. She turned as Ethan approached carrying two logs, each one as big around as her waist.

      “These will burn through the night,” he said, putting them on the fire. He dusted off his hands, then dropped down beside her. “Now, tell me. What has put that furrow into your lovely brow?” His hand neared her face but didn’t touch her.

      Hannah tried to pull her thoughts away from her speculation about Randolph and Ethan. She hoped mind reading was not among the captain’s many talents. “I didn’t know anyone was awake,” she said, avoiding his question.

      “So why are you still up?”

      Hannah shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. Too sore, I think. I’ve never ridden before, at least not like this.”

      “You’ve been a brave girl about it. All of you have done well, really. Before long you’ll all have calluses in the places you need them the most.”

      “I never thought I’d find that idea attractive,” Hannah said with a little chuckle, “but I can’t wait.”

      Ethan laughed. “I’ve a bottle of whiskey that could ease some of those aches, but I’m afraid if I bring it out there’ll be no handling Trask.”

      “You seem to handle him well enough.”

      “I’ve dealt with his type before along the trail. I can’t imagine how a woman as sweet as Nancy Trask ended up with a lout like him.”

      Hannah felt a sudden unfamiliar twist. She’d just been thinking about jealousy, but that surely could not be what she was experiencing at this moment. Nancy Trask had a kind of fragile beauty that she imagined was appealing to men. Her glossy black hair and creamy white skin made her stand out among people whose coloring was not so extreme.

      “Mrs. Trask is lovely, isn’t she?” she commented, looking back at the fire.

      Ethan turned his head toward her sharply. “She’s fair enough. I just hope she’s a lot stronger than she looks, and that her babe holds off until we reach our destination.”

      Hannah gave an exclamation of dismay. “Oh, but it must! She’d not have the baby out here on the trail.”

      “Babies have a way of coming into the world on their own schedule.”

      The very idea of Nancy Trask giving birth in the middle of the wilderness drove all thoughts of jealousy out of Hannah’s head. “What would we do?”

      “How many babies have you helped birth?” he asked her.

      Hannah’s eyes grew round. “None. I suppose Eliza may know more about it.”

      “Well, we menfolk aren’t likely to be of much help, so it will be up to you two.”

      For the first time it really hit Hannah what it meant to be leaving civilization. In London she and her mother had often had to forgo necessities for lack of money, but at least she had known that help was available if it came to an emergency. And in Philadelphia, caring for Priscilla, she had lacked for nothing, except the divine power to overcome an incurable disease. “We’ll just have to make do,” she said, trying to sound confident. “I’ll talk things over with Eliza tomorrow.”

      “Good. As I’ve said before, Mistress Hannah. I like your attitude. It will serve you well in the West.”

      Unlike the frivolous compliments the captain was wont to disperse, this one seemed sincere. “Thank you,” she said, her voice grown hushed.

      He had leaned close to her. “I find that I like lots of things about you, Mistress Hannah.”

      The fire grew brighter as the bark burned off the giant logs. She hoped the sudden blaze was the reason why her cheeks had grown so warm. But the height of the fire would not explain her cold hands. Hannah rubbed them together. “Now you are bantering with me again, Captain, and as I have explained before, it’s not seemly.”

      An expression of annoyance flickered briefly in his eyes, then passed. He leaned even closer to her, until she could see the reflections of the flames in the dark centers of his eyes. “Do you like sweets, mistress?” he asked very softly.

      “I beg your pardon?” Hannah was finding it hard to breathe normally with his face just inches from hers.

      Abruptly he sat back and pulled a paper packet from inside his buckskin coat. “Horehound drops,” he said. He pulled something out of the paper and reached over to her. His fingers pushed the candy into her mouth, then lingered ever so briefly on her warm lips.

      The slick, minty candy felt good against her tongue. After a moment of surprise, she smiled.

      “The Creeks say that if you fall asleep with something sweet on your lips, you’ll have sweet dreams the whole night through,” Ethan said, popping one of the drops into his own mouth.

      “I thought we were only supposed to bring essentials along on this trip, Captain Reed,” Hannah said with mock disapproval.

      “Horehound’s an essential as far as I’m concerned. It’s the main reason I head back east every now and then. There’s not much else in so-called civilization that interests me.”

      “You have a sweet tooth?”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      “But surely there are