The man’s hard eyes never left Zeke’s. “We go to Kentucky because she wishes to go to Kentucky. I will not leave her unguarded.”
The younger man’s gaze flew to someone behind him. Zeke kept his gaze trained on the older man.
“What proof have ye of yer claims.”
Distraction gone. The younger man puffed his shoulders. “We have letters from our King for our lady.” The infantile action did nothing to further his cause.
Isaac raised a hand. “I see no cause to keep ye from traveling with us. Although, Miss Beti has declared that she will no longer travel with us. I hope she changes her mind.”
The song ended, and shuffling began in earnest for the next set. The younger man glanced at the older emissary and left quickly.
“Young men will always be the same.” The old warrior chuckled. Isaac grinned his agreement.
“Isaac, I would speak to ye privately.”
The warrior took his leave.
“Whatchoo gonna talk about?” Mose sauntered up to them.
Isaac waved them forward, and Zeke found himself on the porch bench for the third time that evening.
“I would remind ye before ye start that ye have been hounding me about safety in numbers. And those two add a quite a bit to our numbers.”
“That old one is about two of me,” Mose observed.
Zeke couldn’t help but smile. Mose was right. Zeke had only seen one man like him before, battle hardened, muscles like branches off a hundred year old oak standing in his garden back home.
“It’s the young one I’d worry about,” Isaac said. “He’s after something, and I don’t think he likes to wait.”
“Or take orders.”
Isaac grimaced. “That too.”
Through the window, they could see the man in question soon twirling Miss Edwards down the line of dancing.
“I do not like it.”
“Ye do not like what happened to Miss Beti.” Isaac had a knack for cutting through any distractions or disguises.
“That I do not,” Zeke conceded leaning back with his arms folded. He’d known it was coming. These two friends of his, men he could count on, told him the truth. Whether he wanted to hear it or not. He was supposed to be thankful for that. And he was. Mostly.
“Yer sweet on Miss Beti. Admit it.” Mose grinned.
“I admit it.” He owed them that much. “But I can do nothing about it. I am not fit for husbandly life.”
Isaac let out a rip of rarely heard laughter. Zeke sat forward and chuckled. He couldn’t help it. When Isaac laughed, they all laughed. It didn’t change a thing.
“Why, pray tell, do ye think ye are unfit?”
Zeke took a sobering look at his right leg.
“Yer leg?”
“Miss Beti doesn’t seem to think ye unfit,” Mose quipped.
“Doc Jones does not think it will get any better than it is now. How can I take care of a woman? And this woman with threats around every corner?”
“And yet ye are planning to remove ye sister to Kentucky to care for on such a leg?”
“Aye, but my family doesn’t haven’t a choice. They are mine to care for.”
“And so Miss Beti does not deserve a choice?”
Zeke sat back again, the wind fairly gone from his lungs. “I had not thought of that.”
“As for the threats, ye appear to be managing.”
“That is the God’s honest truth.” Mose head bobbed up and down. “And did ye see the way she went to ye in the woods? And she would sit next to ye during the dancing, even refused to take a turn with me. She is sweet on ye, there is no doubting that.”
Yes, she had done that. Zeke had marked it up to the fact that she couldn’t dance well. Could she have done it because she preferred him? A little sprig of joy sprang to life in the farthest corner of his heart.
“This is not why I wished to speak to ye,” Zeke wrangled them back to the topic. “I have concerns about these two emissaries.”
Isaac cast his glance into the tavern yard where the wagons lay in an orderly line. “I do not believe they mean any harm. I cannot say that about the two men Edwards hired to protect his niece from the wrong influence.”
“He did not hire those thugs.”
“He did.”
