A crown? Could this be what the looters were after? If so, they would continue to be disappointed. Her mother hadn’t talked much about her country or her family, certainly not about a beautiful crown that sparkled like the snow. And how would looters know of her crown unless they’d had it on the ship with them? That wasn’t likely if Rosalee had seen it.
Toby returned with a bowl to the kettle.
Beti scrunched the letter back into her pocket.
Always alert, Nellie lay prone but raised her head.
“That’ll do, Nell.” The dog rested her chin back down on front paws.
Toby scraped his bowl clean and excused himself for a dram in the ordinary. Beti hopped down. There was enough for tomorrow. She’d stowed the kettle and poured herself the last of the coffee when she heard Zeke approach the fire.
“Would ye mind?” Zeke swung the stool, which he’d made for this trip, between them.
“Help yerself.” Miss Beti slipped away from the fire.
Zeke sat and stretched out his leg next to the fire. Beti perched herself on the transom of her wagon before taking up a tin mug.
Her carefully kept hair knot had frazzled with the exertion of the day leaving wisps teased by the wind. And yet for all that she did not have the air of a weary woman. Tired, yes, but vitality still smiled through, like a child anticipating a present. She was enchanting. He found it hard to focus his gaze on the fire before him.
“How did ye fair?”
“The sheep did well. All in all, it was a good day.” She smiled. The blue-green of her eyes shown green in the fire. “And how did ye?”
“Glad I didn’t have to drive sheep.” He grinned.
She laughed, and his spirits lifted above the Cumberland Gap.
“They are not too bad.”
“When they do what ye tell them.”
“And there is not but six of them.”
Zeke let his gaze drop to the fire as he searched for something more to say. “How did ye start keeping sheep?”
“My mother kept sheep. They were hers. Especially Silas. All of them are descended from my mother’s original herd.”
“And ye make cloth?”
She withdrew from him, sitting a little straighter on her chair and drawing her hands into her lap. “Aye. Silas is a special kind of sheep.” Her eyes softened into a vulnerability as she talked about the different types of wool and what she hoped to accomplish with her little flock as it grew. She blossomed before him as she shared her plans.
Her tiny fingers drew out imaginary fiber as she described the fineness of the wool. Small hands flattened as she predicted the quality of the fabric she would create on the big loom she left back in North Carolina. How he would love to see that fabric once she’d got it made. And perhaps he would. They shouldn’t be settled too far from each other. Images of Beti at her loom with little ones at her feet brought him back to the fire.
“What about ye plans? Will ye build boats in Kentucky?” she asked.
A chuckle escaped his lips. “Would that I could but no. There’s no call for boats in Kentucky.” She drew back again, and the coldness chilled his spirit. “I plan on farming. If I can do it.”
“Why couldn’t ye do it?”
He looked down at his right leg then back up. No pity.
“So?”
“Well, there’s things I cannot do, and honestly, I’m not sure what those limits are yet.”
“There’s plenty of things folks cannot do. How do we know unless we try?”
“I cannot argue with that,” he said. Warmth replaced the recent chill, and a quiet knowing creeped into his soul. This was different than the time spent with his mother and sister. Perhaps it was the fact they were out on trail instead of sitting in an expensively appointed parlor. Whatever the reason, the restlessness he felt in town eased.
“Ye can always build wagons.”
He grinned. “True.”
“I admit I’m looking forward to my first night.”
“I’m glad it’s working for ye.”
“To be absolutely fair, I’d take just about anything over that.” She pointed a thumb toward the cabin.
“A reputable establishment like Bell’s cannot be overrated.”
She laughed, and a twinkle lit her eyes. “Well, tonight I think I could sleep on a wagon wheel.”
“Sleep well,” he offered.
“Ye too.”
