She adjusted her deep purple cape and gauzy covering and hurried back down the steps. She slowed and drew in a long, deep breath before she stepped back out into the chilly sunshine.
Peter’s gaze fell upon her in an instant. “Shall we find that watering hole?”
Rebekah dipped her head in a curt nod. “We have a creek behind the homestead when the rains fall right. Joseph, you were there this morning, weren’t you?”
The trio stepped in solemn silence toward the riverbank.
“Yes. We have had good rains.” Joseph’s words were stiff and formal. “The creek is flowing, and the water should be cold.”
He dipped one hand beneath the surface and took a slurp.
Peter imitated him and drank from cupped hands. When he had finished, he wiped his mouth on a bandana he produced from the neck of his shirt. “Much obliged.”
Rebekah watched the forced politeness with troubled eyes.
What is it about this Englishman that makes me so uneasy? Immediately sorry for being suspicious, she said a mental prayer.
“You two brother and sister?” Peter perched on a large, flat rock. The question was obviously directed at her.
Unwilling to speak first, she diverted her glance to Joseph as he eyed the contents of Peter’s glossy black holsters.
“Well? Joseph?” Peter’s voice turned mocking. “Are ya?
“Nay, we are no relation.”
Rebekah’s heart went from a steady beat, beat, beat to a too-quick thud, thud, thud, thud.
I hope nobody can hear my heart.
The muscles in her neck and back tightened as the uncomfortable tension from earlier settled over them once more like a death shroud.
“Sweethearts, then?”
Heat flashed within her and burned in her cheeks.
“What about your family?” Joseph countered. “What’s in Philadelphia?” His voice was patient and flat, but Rebekah had known him long enough to be able to pick out the little inflections in his tone that could change his entire meaning. She didn’t like the turn this watery visit had taken.
“I got some kin back in Philadelphia, so I heard tell. Ain’t never met ʼem. Intend to, though.”
“What are you doing in Indiana Territory if your family is in the east?” Joseph’s voice was smooth and serene, as though merely coaxing an unwilling sibling up the steps of the schoolhouse.
Rebekah watched first Joseph, then Peter, with fearful intrigue.
An insulted glint flashed in Peter’s emerald eyes. “Why, workin’, of course.”
“Of course,” Joseph echoed. “What kind of work?”
Peter snorted. “Not farmin’ like you folks.”
He turned, looked off toward the distant north, and sighed. A long, uncomfortable moment passed before Peter spoke again. “I was a lehr boy in a glass factory for a while.”
Rebekah was powerless to keep her curiosity at bay. “What’s a glass factory?”
The hard planes of Peter’s face softened as his green eyes met hers. “Yup. I was only ten when they hired me on. Carryin’ all that hot glass’s how I got this.”
Though the words were almost foreign to her and held no meaning, her uneasy feeling was replaced by genuine interest.
She looked on as the man rolled his right sleeve up and revealed a swirled, raised scar. “A new mold boy was blowing glass beside me. Blew it too full and hot glass flew all over me. Rest of it got my clothes.”
Rebekah gasped.
Smiling, Peter ducked to catch her eye. “My arm wasn’t so lucky.”
Joseph coughed. “What’d you do after?”
“They don’t want boys at a glass factory once their hands get too big to pack the glass right,” Peter explained as he rolled down his sleeve. He fumbled with the cuff button. “So, after I broke a few pieces, they ran me off.”
Joseph shifted his weight and rubbed his chin much the way Samuel had rubbed his beard in the barn earlier. “Ready?” he mouthed to Rebekah.
She nodded infinitesimally. “Perhaps we should get back and check on your wheel.”
Peter stretched and offered her a roguish smile. “I knew y’all wasn’t related, by the way.” Squinting, he looked her up and down in the obvious manner of the English. “You’re fair. All the rest of these folks is darker.”
Rebekah stared back, curiosity replacing the discomfort. There was something about this Peter O’Leary…
After he adjusted his gun belt, Peter turned to Joseph and offered another faux-tip of his hat. “I ’preciate the conversation.”
He strutted past Rebekah. “Tell your pa I had business in Montgomery. I’ll be back this evening for my wheel.”
***
“He said he’d be back tonight for the wheel,” Rebekah relayed to Samuel as her favorite brother, Jeremiah, passed the bowl of mashed potatoes to each of the younger boys. “Then he got up and left, those little silver things on his heels clinking the whole time.”
“It was an odd conversation,” Joseph agreed. “He kept referring to family he’s never known.”
“Let us pray,” Samuel announced. The table, which had only moments before buzzed with the jovial sounds of a large and hungry family, quieted.
After the blessing, Elnora spoke. “Perhaps it’s best he doesn’t return.”
Joseph’s husky voice sounded harsher than usual. “I agree.”
“Me too,” Jeremiah told his plate.
Rebekah passed Jeremiah the roasted corn. “He should know better than to make a promise, only to break it.”
“Did you finish the wheel, Mr. Stoll?” Joseph’s voice was sincere again.
“Ay, I did. I made it my priority.” He dipped a cup of water from the bucket on the table before offering Joseph the dipper.
