Another Chance (30 page)

"Quick Rabbit is Lenape
. She does not need you."

Sarah
had expected him to say something negative, but hearing these words still hurt. Still, she refused to allow this child or his father to keep her from helping Quick Rabbit. Sarah had made progress, admittedly limited, but she would continue pushing. "Did she tell thee that?"

He stared at her in disbelief
. "She doesn't talk."

"Then how doeth
thou know she doesn’t
need
me?"

"You're a white woman
." His tone had lost a measure of confidence.

"That matters little
. I have visited her as anyone who is concerned would do."

His clenched hands opened, and he edged nearer
. "Why would a white help a Lenape?"

Sarah
considered mentioning the lessons she had tried to give him on mumblety-peg, but remembered his parting statement that she had "put a spell on the knife." Instead she said, "The color of skin matters not at all if one person can help another. Everyone at the plantation has a job, except me. I have time, and I want to help."

"Do
es my father know about this?" He placed his fists on his hip, the defiant pose reestablished.

"I told him
." She hoped the boy would not ask about Wolf's response.

"Oh!"
His shoulders drooped, his hands flexed, and he walked away.

Sarah
almost asked about his knife throwing but decided against it. "I am going to see Quick Rabbit tomorrow about this time. Come if thou wants."

Did his pace slow?
she wondered. Unable to find anything else to say, she called, "Good-bye, Little Turtle," before making her way back to the main house.

             
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sarah heard a voice coming from the parlor, but she didn't recognize the light, baritone murmur. With her curiosity peeked, she slowed her step. When she walked by the open door, she chanced a glimpse. Wolf appeared to be looking at a paper on the desk in front of him. He glanced up and scanned her face, as if searching for something.
Perhaps, he is wondering if I am still annoyed.
Applying the same question to herself, she realized her anger had faded when she had resolved to continue helping Quick Rabbit.

The other man stopped talking
. His hand hovered over the parchment. Possibly he was aware that he had lost his audience. He shifted to Wolf, then following Silver Wolf's lead, straightened, instantly.

How strange to see a white man at Long Meadow
.
Her thought surprised her. Was she no longer regarding herself as white? The two men kept looking at her.

"I didn't mean to disturb thy meeting,"
Sarah said, embarrassed at the long silence. She showed the basket. "I'm on my way to the kitchen."

"
Sarah, come in," Wolf said. Walking around the table, he held out his hand to her.

She searched his face, trying to read his mood, but again failed to decipher this inscrutable man
.

"Let me introduce you to Jeremiah Low
." He kept his arm extended, waiting for her to slide her fingers over his.

Ignoring his hand,
Sarah barely placed her palm on the sleeve of his buckskin shirt. Although no longer annoyed with him, she had not forgotten his sharp words and had resolved not to totally forgive him. As he drew her near, not even her internal reservation nor the layer of leather covering his arm decreased her desire for him. When only inches separated them, a pulse of electricity shot through her; the swift current warred with her recent displeasure. The sensation vexed her.
Why did her body constantly betray her?
She glanced at Wolf hoping to see his reaction, but the wall he had built around himself remained solid. Turning her attention to the newcomer, she smiled

"
Sarah, may I present Jeremiah Low? He's a neighbor and helped organize people to come here after the soldiers had devastated Long Meadows," Wolf said, in a neutral tone. "Jeremiah, this is Sarah Stone. Her father owns the tavern off Dilworthtown Road. She is staying with us until the British scavengers leave the area."

She considered offering her hand, but chose a brief curtsey
. As she rose she said, “I’m sure everyone on the plantation appreciated the aid they received.

The short, stocky man
blushed and responded with a slight bow to her comment. He wore tight leather leggings topped by an ash-colored rifle shirt, similar to those worn by the militia. A pleasant expression covered his face, clearly showing the freckles that matched his carrot-red hair. "I am delighted to meet you." He extended his hand.

Sarah
placed her fingertips on his palm and bent her head slightly. He squeezed her fingers gently and bowed again. When he released her, his pale blue eyes twinkled with pleasure. "I have met Benjamin Stone and heard about his difficulties. He's a fine and honorable man."

From the corner of her eye,
Sarah saw that his gallant gesture received a less-than pleased reaction from Wolf. Did she sense jealousy? If so, it gladdened her heart. Responding to Jeremiah's earlier statement, she said, "I will tell my father of thy high regard." Then she added, "Has thou lived here long?"

"My farm runs along the northern border of Long Meadow Plantation
. Luke and I have been friends since I grew out of dresses, and he began to wear clothes." The fringe running down the front of Jeremiah's rifle shirt swayed as he chuckled.

She joined in, partly from what he had said, partly from the picture created, but mostly because his laugh was contagious
. When she glanced at Wolf, he appeared less than ecstatic at Jeremiah's comment. Having seen the village's toddlers and very young children, Sarah had noted their bare bottoms, thinking it saved on diapers. Could Wolf be embarrassed? Of course, his features gave nothing away. She recalled the impartial tone Wolf had used when he introduced Jeremiah. Was it only their different personalities that caused this? She eyed one then the other but discovered no answer.

Realizing she was holding them from their discussion, she said, "I mustn't intrude any longer
."

"What we are planning will interest you," Wolf said
.

Sarah
stared at him, surprised at his comment.
What could they be discussing?
Suddenly, she knew. "Thou found the British patrol." She divided her attention between the two men.

"Possibly," Jeremiah replied
.

"As you may have observed from his uniform, Jeremiah is a member of the local militia," Wolf said
. "He has news about a British provisioning patrol gathering supplies in the western part of the county."

She examined Jeremiah, keenly
. "Thou believeth they are the same men who attacked the plantation and our tavern?" Her heart pounded with excitement, and a measure of fear, perhaps apprehension. Sarah wanted them caught and punished. Yet, a small voice reminded her that, with their demise, she would have no reason to stay at Long Meadow with Wolf. She pushed this thought aside.

"The description of the leader appears to match," Jeremiah added
.

"
Where are they?" A flutter of trepidation flowed over her. She would prefer never to see the fat corporal again and hoped he and his men were not too close.

"I'll show you
. According to our sources," Jeremiah said, as he returned to his original position, "they loaded goods on rafts here and are floating them down Doe Run."

Sarah
moved to the opposite side of the table and watched as Jeremiah's finger traced a path across the paper. Instead of Wolf taking his place next to his friend, where he had stood before, he followed her. Only a few inches separated them. From his attitude, one might suspect he had a special interest in her. One glance at his face dispelled that notion. The diverse signals he constantly sent confused and depressed her. Would she ever understand him?

"Doe Run joins the west
branch of the Brandywine Creek, here; a mile south the east and west forks of the Brandywine come together. I believe they will either continue south to the Christiana River, then on to the Delaware before heading north and landing in Philadelphia, or have wagons met them where the river crosses the road to Nottingham and drive to Philadelphia."

Sarah
retraced the route Jeremiah had outlined and frowned.

"Since we are not sure, I suggest we arrange a warm reception for them at the main intersection of the two creeks
." Jeremiah tapped the spot, looked up and grinned.

"The river runs fast at that spot and is sixty or seventy paces wide," Wolf said
. "We will need to have a patrol on both sides, so that they don't escape."

"Since a large segment of Washington's soldiers has left for the harvest and will not return until after spring planting, I have less than one patrol, and whatever men you can muster," Jeremiah said, unhappily
.

Wolf's brow wrinkled
. "My braves are hunting. By the time I find them, the British will have left the area. Only young boys remain on the plantation. Even if I would consider taking them, we need them here. We must make do with whomever you can summon."

"I like not the numbers
." Jeremiah rubbed his smooth chin with his short, freckled fingers. "If the British stick to the center of the creek, we will have difficulty apprehending them." Jeremiah's voice had lost a measure of its enthusiasm.

Sarah
frowned at the map. She etched the lines of the river with her nail several times. The drawing reminded her of the she’d found at the garage sale, the one that contained the mistake. "Where on Doe Run did they launch the rafts?"

Jeremiah pointed to the area
.

"Thy map is wrong," she said quietly
.

"Impossible," said Jeremiah
. 

Sarah
glanced from him to Wolf and back again. "The map is wrong," she repeated.

"I don't like to disagree with a lady, but our surveyors completed this last spring," Jeremiah said
.

Instead of looking at him,
Sarah centered her attention on the paper. "After the snow melts or when we have had rain for several days, the Doe has enough water to carry canoes or rafts all the way to the Brandywine. At other times, the lower section of the creek, just above the juncture, can barely float a stick. This fall has been very dry. With little rain, a portage of a half a mile or so, right about here is necessary." She placed her finger on the spot.

"How do you know this?" Wolf interrupted
.

Sarah
wondered how she should answer. "We canoed there."

"Why?" Jeremiah asked
.

"Canoeing is faster than walking," she said
.

He eyed her curiously,
nodded, as if satisfied. Wolf remained stone-faced.

"Wolf, are you familiar with the area?"

Jeremiah's question should have annoyed Sarah, but she understood his doubts.

"It has been many seasons since I passed that way
. What Sarah says is logical."

Although she knew she was right, his comment buoyed her spirits, for his words showed his faith and trust in her
.

Jeremiah glanced from the map to
Sarah. "If you are right …"

"I am
. Believe me," she said.

"
Sarah has knowledge about many things," Wolf said. "I have confidence in what she has told us." His ebony eyes focused on her.

Wolf's words, if not his unreadable expression, warmed her further
, even if his first sentence started alarm bells ringing. Did he suspect she was not what she appeared? She swallowed her misgiving and smiled at him. The look in his eyes had softened and pleased her.

"All right," said Jeremiah, his tone sounded more confident
. He slammed his palm down on the table. "Let's plan to attack right after they complete their portage, and before they start down the west branch of the Brandywine. They should be tired and easy pickings."

"When will thee leave?"
Sarah asked Wolf.

"As soon as I can gather my rifle and bedroll
. Will you tell White Owl where I have gone?"

"Yes
." Her heart tightened. She had helped plan the battle, but she wished others could carry out the operation, leaving Wolf safe at home.

"Thank you
." His words said little, but his unsheltered eyes spoke to her.

She wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him to her breast
. Instead, she grabbed both sides of her apron to prevent her from doing so and bobbed her head.

"Thanks for your help, ma'am
." Jeremiah inclined his head toward Sarah. "It was a real pleasure meeting you, ma'am." He began rolling up the map. "Luke, my men and I will see you on the far side of the Brandywine. We will strike at daybreak."