“Goodnight, Joseph. Thank you again for a wonderful evening.” She tried not to bite off her farewell, but not only was her pa right there, but the romantic moment, illuminated by moonlight and lanterns, was forgotten. She started up the stairs, careful of the creaky one.
“I’ll see you for breakfast, Rebekah.”
She paused in her ascent. “You’ll be here, too?”
Joseph stared up at her. She hadn’t intended for her question to sound gruff but judging by the way the smile melted from his dimpled face, it had.
She forced a grateful smile and stammered to undo her mistake. “Then I’ll be sure to have cinnamon rolls ready.”
Following her lead, Joseph returned her smile. “See you then.”
Rebekah turned and finished climbing the stairs. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she replayed the conversation with Peter in her mind.
What could he have to say to me?
Rebekah walked past her bedroom and instead, found herself in her quilting room. Easing into her rocker, she plucked up her quilting bag.
“Sweet Ma. She must have placed my sad excuse for a quilt in my bag in the off chance I wanted to practice my sorely lacking skills.”
She knows me so well.
With her emotions a swirling tempest, she began to stitch by moonlight.
Chapter Nine
Peter’s voice was harsh in the early morning light. “You invited me back and here I am, though I wish you had allowed me to speak last night.”
His mouth was a hard line as he stared at Rebekah from beneath his hat. The scar above his eye gave him a fierce look, but she wasn’t afraid, despite the presence of the pistols on his hips.
Curious, she’d decided last night beneath the moonlight. But not afraid.
Joseph appeared at her side. “Breakfast is on the table. Won’t you come in and join us?”
Peter huffed. “I ought to have known you’d be here.” Slowly, he removed his hat. “Yes, I believe I will.” Stepping between them, he walked with confidence to the table.
Elnora and Samuel rose politely.
“You can sit here,” Rebekah whispered. She touched the back of a chair. Peter nodded.
Easing around the table, she took the seat next to Joseph and across from Peter. An uneasy silence blanketed the table that, moments before, had been bustling.
Samuel spoke first. “We’ve already blessed this meal, Peter, so you are welcome to help yourself.”
Peter ran a hand through his blond mane. “Much obliged.” He picked up the plate Rebekah had set for him and pointed to a tin which sat just out of reach. “Biscuit, please.”
Careful to keep her face expressionless, she passed the biscuits. Joseph even ignored the special cinnamon rolls she’d made especially for him. Still, no one spoke.
After dumping two ladles of gravy over the fluffy pastries, Peter finally sighed. “I reckon I’ll simply say what I’ve come to say.”
He focused his burning stare on Rebekah. “I came before ʼcause I heard tell it might be true and I had to see for myself. Now, I know that it is.”
Rebekah cut her eyes to Joseph, who sat nearer to her than usual. The warmth radiating from his body was comforting, as though he would protect her no matter what important piece of news Peter had brought.
He glanced back at her and their eyes locked for a brief moment.
Thank goodness we are in this together.
“Two decades ago, a family came across the Pike in a covered wagon. They left their home in Philadelphia, packed what they could, and headed west.”
Elnora dropped her fork. It met her breakfast plate in a clatter. Rebekah looked at her, but her mother didn’t retrieve the fork. Samuel reached across and laid a hand on his wife’s arm.
Ma is trembling.
Peter waited until everyone was quiet before he continued.
“A woman named Sara and her husband Wesley were driving the wagon. In the back was the older brother, and Hannah, the baby. Not too far from this place right here, there was an accident.”
Rebekah leaned forward, her eyebrows knitted together.
“Sara and Wesley were killed. It seems they collided with a runaway wagon. Those folks were killed, too.”
Rebekah was powerless to stem her curiosity. “What about the children?”
Peter laced his fingers over his plate. He continued his recitation as though he’d practiced it for years.
Or decades.
“The boy lived. He was about seven years of age and by some miracle, a passing wagon picked him up as he was running back east. That wagon was headed to Pennsylvania, so they took the boy in.”
“And the girl?” Rebekah’s voice was a whisper.
“It was thought that she was killed, too. But one day, when the boy was all grown up, he came looking for his sister. See…” Peter ran his hand through his hair again. “Those folks who took the boy east were old. They died when he was still only a spud, so that sister is the only family he’s got in the world.”
Elnora still hadn’t looked up. Even the throng of boys was quiet.
“I figured the first place to start looking was the scene of the accident. A youngster by the name of Elijah, I believe, sure had a belly-load of answers for all my questions. He’s the one pointed me this way.”
Joseph’s fist clenched and unclenched in his lap.
Rebekah leaned back in her chair. “So, what are you saying, Peter?”
The man glanced at the faces around the breakfast table. “Well, what I’m saying is—”
Elnora’s voice was so quiet it would have gone unheard if not for the deafening stillness of the room. “It was an Indian attack that killed those folks. Not a runaway wagon.”
Peter sucked in a deep breath and nodded.
Samuel pushed his chair back from the table, making everyone jump in unison.
