“A good skill if you are going into the army, I suppose,” she whispered back then tensed as she heard hoof beats.
“It has certainly served us well.”
She watched as the men she had heard rode into view. There were eight of them and they rode along silently. The way they kept such a close watch all around them made her nervous, but they did not appear to notice the wagon and George was behaving. She glanced down at the horse and realized he had decided to have a nice nap.
She then glanced toward the goat and tensed. It was too small to be seen but the bush it was chomping on was moving a lot and might be visible. She crept to the back edge of the wagon and grabbed the animal’s tether then paused. If she pulled the animal away there was sure to be some loud protest.
Before she could decide if she would take that chance, it proved unnecessary. It was not the stubborn goat who alerted the men to where they were but the baby. Jeremiah suddenly let out a loud wail, demanding attention. He got it. All eight men on the road turned their way and raised their weapons. She suspected the only thing holding them back from shooting was the fact that it was a baby’s cry.
James backed up and disappeared into the trees. As he passed her, he whispered he would be watching but for her to act like a distraught mother. Boyd faded away with him. Abigail covered Matthew with everything she could and set the crate Jeremiah was in on his chest, praying it would be disguise enough. Then she picked up the baby and rubbed at his back.
Cautiously two men came over to her. Abigail was terrified and found that made her mad. It was a curious reaction to fear but she held to it, needing the burst of strength it gave her. The goat moved to chew on the tall one’s coat and he aimed his gun at it.
“Don’t you dare shoot my child’s source of food,” she snapped.
“He’s eating my damn coat!”
“You can just push him aside. He isn’t even a big goat.”
“What the hell are you doing out here?” asked the short stout one she felt sure was an officer.
“There is no need to be profane, sir,” she said, trying to sound like Mrs. Beaton at her haughtiest. “I have stopped to feed my babe. I just changed him.”
“Where are you going?” he asked, speaking slowly as if she was particularly stupid, and she frowned.
“I am going away from here, which obviously is a place filled with fools with guns,” she said in the same tone of voice, and thought she may have been too sassy because he scowled at her and his knuckles whitened with the grip he had on his gun.
“Well, don’t stay here for long. Get yourself someplace safe.” He headed back to the road, and after shooting her a glare the other two men followed him.
Abigail did not breathe a sigh of relief until the men kicked their mounts into a trot and disappeared down the road. She then looked back and saw James and Boyd come out of the trees. Still clutching Jeremiah, she pulled away the things she had piled on top of Matthew. She met his dark frown with a shrug and a smile.
“Thought you were going to get yourself shot there for a moment,” said James.
“So did I,” she said, and patted her chest over her rapidly beating heart.
“Then why weren’t you a bit more meek and conciliatory?”
“Because they didn’t shoot me the minute they saw me. I assumed they were the sort that had a problem shooting a woman and child.”
“That was a gamble,” muttered Matthew.
“Not a big one,” said James as he helped Boyd get back into the seat. “When they aren’t in the middle of a fight, the regular soldiers don’t much try to kill women and kids.” He bent down and eased George back up on his feet before leading him to the traces to put him back in harness. “That was a clever thing to get him to do.”
“My da taught him,” Abigail said, feeling an echo of pain. “He is such a big fellow, it is the only way to hide him if you have to.” She put the baby back into his bed, patted George’s neck as she passed him, and climbed back up in the seat to take the reins.
“Here’s hoping those are the only ones we run into,” James said as he mounted and nudged his horse into motion.
Abigail prayed his hope proved sound as she got the wagon back on the road and started to follow James. Soon she was going along smoothly enough that he dropped back behind them and took up watch again. Boyd watched the ground as she drove.
“What are you looking for?” she asked him.
“Just watching to see if they turn off anywhere along here.”
“I hope they do, although I have no idea where they would turn off to. Do we turn off anywhere?”
“Not for quite a ways.”
“Let me know when the turn is near.”
“Why?”
“Because George hates turning off a road and requires a little coaxing.” She heard Matthew laugh and wished she could reach back and smack him. “He’ll walk this road pulling us for as long as we want, but a turn”—she shook her head—“no. He gets a bit stubborn.”
“Your horse is an odd stick, Abbie,” said Matthew.
“He has character.”
“Ah, of course. The baby is humming. Badly.”
She listened for a moment and smiled. “He’ll go to sleep soon. I think he does that to comfort himself.”
“Wish he would learn a real tune.”
Abigail laughed. “Perhaps you could sing one until he learns it.”
“I just might if he keeps this up for too long.”
Matthew looked at the baby. He lay on his back with his fingers in his mouth droning away. His eyes were more shut than open and Matthew was certain he was fighting to keep them open as little as he did. He did not know that much about babies except that they could wake the dead with their cries, but he did think this one was particularly well behaved. Then again, it had been the baby who had let the riders know where they were. He was not a man who paid much attention to babies, either, but he did think this one was a fairly handsome little man.
And all that was probably a good thing as the child was now Abigail’s. She may not have birthed him but her promise to a dying woman had created the bond. If he did finally get the courage or need up to ask her to stay with him, he would have to accept this child. And Noah, he thought and shook his head. He liked the little boy but he was going to have to be sure he was ready to be a father if he decided he wanted to be her only lover. Abigail would not give either up and he was sure of that, even though she had never spoken of it.
Since he had nothing better to do than think about things, he decided he needed to give the matter of him and Abigail some serious hard thought. He would not be just taking on a woman if he kept her; he would be taking on a small family. It was a serious business and he had to be sure he felt enough depth of emotion to do it right.
Emotions, he decided, were messy and confusing but he needed to stop dithering around. Abigail would not remain his lover for long. What he had to think about was whether that pang he got whenever he thought about that stemmed from a selfish disappointment over a loss of something pleasurable or something far deeper.