“Ye make it right with Aggie?”
Sheepish, Mose shook out the now empty cloth and bunched it in his hand. “I did. I told her I was sorry as I could be and that I just wanted to look out for her was all.”
Zeke grinned. “How’d she take that?”
Mose rubbed the back of his neck before grinning back. “She smacked me with a rein and told me not to be late if I wanted supper. She said ye can come too.”
Seven
Sunlight was quickly waning into soft shadows when they reached Bell’s Tavern. The squat building was in no way impressive. It consisted of a log cabin that had been added on to over the years. The additions were a bit irregular and made from whatever materials must have been on hand. The effect was of an unsteady lean-to. Steady smoke streamed from its chimney. A stout man came out. The door slapped closed behind him proving the dwelling was sturdier than it appeared. Nonetheless, Beti was thankful she would not need shelter under its sloping roof. She would bed down in her new wagon.
She was profoundly grateful that the tavern keeper was willing to house her flock in the fenced paddock behind the stable for a couple of shillings. After her first day, she’d no desire to sleep with the sheep, although she could task Toby with that job.
The wagon train surrounding the tavern gave the appearance of a small city come to visit. Children ran and laughed. Fires were laid, and soon the clanging of pots filled the air. Having put her sheep up for the night she and Nellie made their way back to their temporary home.
She chanced a glance back to Zeke’s wagon to find empty traces and the man gone.
“That’ll do Nellie.” The dog lay down under the shade of the transom. Beti sent a thankful prayer to heaven for her own empty traces and the sight of Toby nursing a small fire. She placed Nellie’s feed bowl down with another for water.
“Do ye cook, Toby?”
“Aye, but it’s plain fare.”
“Shall I bargain with ye then? Ye make the fire, and bring the water. I’ll cook.”
“I work for ye, Miss Beti, ye have no need to bargain with me.”
“Aye. But I should like to thank ye anyway for taking the risk.”
He smiled. “I have no objection to the cooking of a woman. Any woman has to cook better than my plate of beans.”
Toby walked off and returned with a bucket of water.
Beti pulled out her pot and set to making a stew and biscuits. It was simple fare to be sure, but it would do for as tired as she was. While their meal cooked, Toby drifted off to “meet the folks.”
Beti stayed, satisfied to rest in the back of her wagon and listen to the shouts of the children and the general murmuring of this new extended group of friends. Embarrassment flamed through her. They weren’t her friends. Not really. She had not even met half of them. Oh, most of them had been nice to her so far, but they didn’t know who she was, not really. She regretted anew her hasty decision to use her mother’s name.
She fingered the woven bracelet made of her mother’s hair. Mama’s hair had been a unique shade of brown that can only come when it is mixed with a heavy dose of blonde. In fact Beti was inclined to call it a very dark blonde. Beti raised her wrist to her nose. The smell of Mama was surely gone, but the act always brought Mama back in stark memories. Her laughter, her gentle eyes, yes, even her smell. Regret tugged at her heart. She wished she’d asked more about the past. Why had Mama left her kingdom? Why had she not talked about it? Why had Papa not talked about it? Why had he skirted her questions when she’d asked him?
Beti had always assumed it had something to do with Papa being a pirate. Papa was always reluctant to talk about his past, unless it was a short bit used to illustrate some scripture he wanted one of the treasure-seeking ne’re-do-wells to understand. Papa had worked so hard to get people to understand God’s forgiveness that Beti hadn’t the heart to bring up his past either. It was the man with the accent who came to the table. There was something in the sound of his voice that reminded her of Mama, but she couldn’t really remember Mama’s voice that clearly.
She set the pot off center of the flame and scooped a portion into her bowl. After climbing up to the transom she propped her back along the side and put her feet up. She closed her eyes and let her muscles relax.
It had not been a hard day. The much-traveled terrain held no surprises. No sharp rises or deep gulleys. It would not always be the case. Of that she was certain. She thanked the Lord for her supper and tucked in.
Whining and laughter and emphatic statements played around her. She reveled in its music. Lord willing, one day she too would have a family. Little ones who would laugh. And probably whine. And she would love them. And they would love her. And she would pray every day that she would not have to leave them for heaven as her own mother had.
The letter.
Beti reached into her pocket for the letter Miss Polly delivered just as she took her tearful leave. Rosalee. A longing for home once again pulled at her thoughts. Was she doing the right thing? The exhilaration of the voices playing around her a stark answer.
She cracked the seal.
Dearest Beti,
The lilting tones of her old nurse came off the page. She and the Doc were overjoyed to have received her letter. But she begged Beti to be careful. There were visitors.
Today two visitors came. They said they were from yer mother’s country and were looking for ye. Be very careful. Not everyone from a country is a good person. There were pirates among her folks. I cannot tell if these men are canny looters.
Yer mother told me never to tell her secret unless it was a matter of yer life and death. I have never understood this directive, but I have complied with her wishes. Now I find that I must tell ye all I know.
Yer mother, Sigrid Hakansdottir was the third child of the King of Hakaan. After yer parents were married and living in this country, an emissary from yer grandfather came with a box and message for Sigrid. His oldest children, her brothers, had died. He begged her to come home and take the throne. In the box was a crown. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Silver and white, it glistened like snow. It had been her mother’s.
Yer mother took days to make her decision. In the end she refused. Yye were such a little thing at the time. She could not bear to leave ye and yer father. Yer father preferred the freedom of the New World to the old. Sigrid agreed. There was much talk of what they would do in this new life they had created together. Oh, how her eyes would glow as she told me of their dreams. It still breaks my heart that she died so young.
Now, to the visitors. There was two of them, and I could swear if it was not forbidden, that the one that stayed in the shadows was the emissary who came all those years ago, but I could not be sure. And I never trust a man who prefers shadows. They could be treasure seekers coming after yer mother’s crown.
And now ye will ask me, I can hear ye, Beti. “Where is Mama’s crown, Rosalee?”
“I don’t know, mon tre´sor.”
I believe they put it in a safe place. Yer papa never told me where it was, and neither did yer Mama. Could this be the treasure the looters are forever looking for?
Beti read through the letter again. And once more to be sure she’d read it clearly.
Could the man with the blue eyes and familiar accent be the emissary?
