Beti pushed the thought away. No one knew her here, and they never would. She took another glance around the yard. The men weren’t here. This was the most exposed she’d allowed herself to be in the week since she encountered them at Morgan’s. She’d like to think they’d left town, but she had no way of knowing.
“May I have yer attention?” Captain Isaac Taylor, as he’d introduced himself, stood in front of the other men. Beti understood he had been the captain of their regiment. There was a stillness about him that spoke of a man used to authority. The others stood at rest, watching their leader. Except one. He was watching her, tall and as broad shouldered as his captain. A smile lingered in his countenance. Like the others he was dressed in a hunting shirt of worn tan. His breeches were of the same leather. They each possessed a long rifle. Unlike the others, a tomahawk hung from his belt. Beti took a casual glance around then turned her eyes back to the porch. The man’s gaze was trained on his captain.
“Our purpose tonight is to announce our plans to travel across Daniel Boone’s new road to Kentucky.”
A stocky little man with dark hair and a cleric’s collar said in a surprisingly loud voice, “We know that son. That is why we are here.”
A deep chuckle sounded way too close for comfort at the outburst.
The men from Morgan’s store were here.
“My name is Isaac Taylor. I am the leader of this expedition. With me is Hezekiah Smith.” So that was his name. Mr. Smith focused his gaze on her again. “Gordon Sharpe.” The shortest of the four nodded a bow. “And Moses Woodbridge.” The youngest swooped a bow flourishing his hat. “We have lately served with the 11th Virginia. We offer such security as we may against Tory and Indian perils.”
“That Daniel Morgan’s regiment?” the older man demanded.
“Yessir.”
“My name is Claiborne Edwards. I am traveling with my niece. I presume ye are prepared to accommodate women?”
Captain Taylor cast a glance toward Aggie. “Yessir, we are removing our families to Kentucky. We anticipate a few women will make up the party.”
A round of folks introducing themselves broke out. A Mr. Robert Stamps and his wife and sons, Mr. Tunstall Curd and his wife and children, Mr. Nathanial Baldwin and his wife and a child on the way. Beti lost track of the next families as she watched the men from Morgan’s move around the outside of the crowd. They took up a spot on the very outside of the porch.
What difference does it make? They don’t know me, and I don’t know them. When she forced her eyes back to Captain Taylor, Mr. Smith was watching her again. Did he know the strangers?
“I am Agatha Thornton. My husband Tom served in the 11th Virginia. I am going to Kentucky.”
Murmurs riffled through the crowd. Beti stiffened her back and lifted her chin.
“Ye gonna allow unescorted women on this trip?”
“Mrs. Thornton traveled every campaign with us, Mr. Edwards. If she chooses to go with us she may. As far as I have been able to ascertain this is a free land. If Mrs. Thornton’s friend choses to go with us, and can carry her weight, she is free to come along as well.”
Captain Taylor’s words paused the conversation for a fraction of a heartbeat. Beti’s heart drummed into the silence. Strictly speaking she could go by herself. Not that it was her preferred route. No, she was removing to Kentucky to have community and people in her life, not the opposite. If she wanted to live alone, she could have stayed in North Carolina. Beti scanned the crowd. Apparently, Captain Taylor’s words had carried the argument.
Mr. Edwards folded his arms across his chest. “What route ye planning to take?”
“Given the recent activity of armies in the area, we will take the southern route along the North Carolina border to Abingdon.”
“Can Boone’s road take a wagon?” Mr. Curd hollered out.
“I’ve had it from a friend of mine that the road can take a wagon. He cannot say that the wagon will have no trouble crossing the mountains, but he assures me a wagon is possible.”
“How reliable is this friend?” asked Mr. Stamps.
“As reliable as a man can be who has traveled the road.”
This seemed to appease the men. The looters slipped into the tavern. They didn’t recognize her. Relief eased across Beti’s shoulders. She wasn’t sure she liked Mr. Edwards very much, but he’d asked the questions she needed answered while she did her best to stay hidden. Yes, there would be women along. She and Aggie were traveling alone, but there were enough wives present that her virtue would remain unblemished. And she could bring her new wagon. When the time was right, a freighter would be able to bring her loom across the mountains to Kentucky. God was answering all her prayers.
The meeting ended only after everyone had a chance to ask whatever questions they wished. Then they mobbed Captain Taylor. Beti lost sight of Aggie in the crowd. She signed her name to a sheet of paper of those interested in traveling with the party.
Crisp moonlight glittered off shiny bits of sand in the tavern’s yard. Ever since the day of her father’s funeral and the white blur in the woods she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. Despite constant vigilance she had not discovered anyone. Her focus remained to her left and right as she skirted the people who would soon be her companions. She probably should stop and meet them, but the men from Morgan’s remained inside the tavern. There would be time enough on the road to make friends. Right now she should seek the safety of Miss Polly’s. So consumed was she with her thoughts that she forgot to gauge the path directly in front of her feet. She sailed right into the dock of a very tall man.
“I am so sorry.” She gazed up into the eyes of Mr. Hezekiah Smith. Her mouth dried up like hardtack.
His hands remained on her shoulders perhaps just a fraction or two longer than was strictly necessary for her to regain her footing.
“It is quite all right, miss.”
Beti stepped back and surveyed the side of the tavern yard. He had the reins of three horses.
“What are ye doing?”
“Moving these horses.” Bright moonlight caught the twinkle in his eye.
“Are they yorn?”
He shook his head.
Beti puzzled at the man, bewilderment over coming every thought. “Why?”
He gazed down. “Because it is funny.”
Laughter erupted before she could stop it. She’d never heard of anyone doing anything for that reason alone. The look on his face added to her mirth.
“Are ye Mr. Smith?”
He bowed. “At yer service Miss Sigridsdatter.”
