Dream Weaver (7 page)

Bowls in hand, Rebecca stared at her. "But surely you knew. The minister always gives another sermon after lunch."

"Oh." Grin and bear it, Gwen thought, swishing the pewter dishes in the stream.

Quiet had descended on the congregation again, the people settled on the logs once more to hear the minister preach further on the wages of sin.

In no time, the men had resumed their pacing, hands pressed to their sore backs. Babies whimpered and cried, sternly hushed by their long-suffering mothers. A few rows ahead of her, Rachel Beam tried to pacify a cranky baby while her two older children sat on the ground, clinging to Rachel's skirt. Her husband--the jerk!--had fallen asleep on the log, his head bent forward until it looked as if he'd topple to the ground.

Sympathy welled up inside Gwen. Why should Rachel have to manage the baby and her two other children while her scumbag husband slept through the endless sermon? Without a second thought, she sprang from her seat and headed down the rows, ignoring the startled looks and whispered comments.

Arms outstretched, Gwen approached the beleagured woman. "Let me take the baby," she whispered.

Rachel stared open-mouthed at her.

Absolute silence fell over the assembly, all eyes on Gwen.

"Madam, is something amiss?"

Gwen spun around to face the minister. "No, reverend, just trying to help." Mouthing a "thank you", Rachel handed her the baby. Gwen hustled back to her seat, the baby held close to her chest. She passed Christian along the way, who threw her a hasty smile of approval.

The minister continued with his sermon. "Word has reached me that there is one amongst you who wants to inoculate these innocent, God-fearing people against the smallpox." His penetrating stare covered the congregation, and his gaze drifted from one person to the next, as if accusing every one of them.

Alarm bells rang inside Gwen's head while she patted the slobbering baby on her shoulder. Christian. Who else would the minister be talking about?

"--one who would commit this dastardly act. Sinful!" He pounded on the Bible. "Wicked! to interfere with God's wondrous plan for mankind..."

Gwen exchanged a look with Daniel, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. She looked over to see Christian with his arms folded across his chest, a defiant expression on his face.

The shoulder of her dress became soaking wet from the baby's slobbering, and she shifted the baby to her other shoulder while she considered the minister's senseless remarks. Now Christian would probably never attend another service. As it was, she respected him for sticking it out. Anyone else would have gotten up and left.

* * *

"What thought you on the sermon?" Daniel asked Christian during the evening meal. "I mean about smallpox inoculation."

Christian set his fork down and took a swallow of beer before answering. "I'm used to this kind of thinking. 'Tis how people are. However, the sermon will make it that much more difficult when I attempt to inoculate these innocent, God-fearing people," he said with a mocking smile.

That issue settled, they discussed neighbors and politics, attempting to draw Gwen into the conversation.

"Will you excuse me, please,” Gwen said, needing time alone. Besides, she had to escape Christian's disturbing presence. She headed outside, telling herself she'd be better off if she kept her distance from him. No entanglements for her when she left this life in the eighteenth century to go back to her world in the twenty-first...if she got back to her own world.

The sun was sinking below the horizon, tinting the sky with a lavender glow, the air crisp and dry. Gwen strolled among the fragrant lilacs and the wide oak tree, reminders of home. She watched the flight of a hawk, recalling Christian's reaction to the sermon during supper. Well, Christian certainly had a mature attitude, but he's got his work cut out if he--

"Did you find it?"

Gwen swung around and saw Christian approach, his face a shadowy enigma in the evening twilight. Her hands stiffly held at her sides, she gave him a steady look, not wanting him to see the heart-stopping effect he had on her.

"Find what?"

"Your house." Christian stepped closer, only a couple of yards separating them. He stopped to lean against the wide oak tree, tossing her a questioning glance. "You said you intended to look for it." Arms folded across his chest, booted feet spread apart, he had the look of a conquering hero.

"Obviously, I didn't find it, or I wouldn't still be here."

"The day after you first met the Chamberlains, you left this house without a word," Christian said. "They were very worried about you, to say the least. So where did you go?" The wind had picked up, rippling his linen shirt and ruffling his hair. His eyes seemed to pierce her with suspicion, as if she were on trial. "You must have gone somewhere."

"Shall I tell you in one sentence, or do you want a minute-by-minute account of my activities?"

"Let's dismiss the sarcasm, shall we? Listen, Miss Emrys–“

"Gwen," she corrected. She would stay calm, even though she was seething. It was none of his business where she went.

"Miss Emrys, you are walking on thin ice, you know. Best you not strain my credulity any more than you already have. You have yet to tell us where you're from--"

"I told you about the restored village!"

He nodded in scornful acquiescence. "Ah, yes, the restored village, whatever that means. You speak in riddles."

 
A gradual darkness settled over the valley, a quarter moon and millions of stars glittering in a sapphire sky. Stars! She couldn't remember seeing so many.

She drew a deep breath. "You'll just have to believe me."

"I choose not to." Christian paused. "
Fort
Pitt
," he stated, catching her by surprise. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

"Yeah,
Pittsburgh
. You asked me the same question the first time we met."

 
"
Fort
Pitt
." He stepped closer. "A British fort. Did you go there the day you disappeared?"

"What do I care about
Fort
Pitt
?"

He took another step closer, his dark gaze meeting hers. "A British fort."

"I don't care if it's a British fort or a Belgian fort or even a Nigerian one. I don't know what I can say or do to convince you, but I am not a spy for
France
."

"Spy?" He stared at her. "Where did you get that idea?"

She licked her lips. "I heard you and Daniel talking about me the morning after my arrival at the Chamberlains."

"Ah, eavesdropping." He frowned. "Then what are you? Who are you?"

She opened her arms wide in a helpless gesture. "I'm a woman who got sent back to another time. I don't know why!"

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"I don't care what you believe. It's the truth!"

* * *

Deadly arrows whizzed across the stone ramparts of the fort. Red-coated soldiers fired from the earthen parapet, their muskets booming. War whoops and blood-chilling screams rang from the woods while women and children inside the fort cowered in terror. A wounded soldier convulsed on the ground, moaning in agony as a doctor knelt beside him to tend to his bleeding stomach. A young woman stood helpless, paralyzed with fear. Too late, she saw the arrow headed her way. Motionless with shock, she stared unbelieving and--

Gwen bolted upright in bed. Her heart pounded, every breath an effort. Perspiration dampened her nightgown as she agonized over the meaning of her dream. Now everything became clear. Now she knew why she'd traveled back to 1762. A short time in the future, the Indians would unite under a single chief in an attempt to overthrow the British and drive them from the North American continent. Spreading terror throughout the land, they'd capture many forts, killing the white inhabitants or taking them prisoner.

Another truth exploded in her mind. She would lose her life in the rebellion. Christian, too.

Chapter Five

She would die within the year.

Wide awake, Gwen stared at the ceiling, agonizing over her fate. Why had she been sent back if it were just to be killed? No, there had to be another reason for her trip through time. She tightened her jaw with resolve. She would not let herself get killed! No way! She hadn't made the trip to the eighteenth century to lose her life or to see Christian killed. She'd never retreated from a challenge before, and she didn't intend to now.

No more attempts to return to her own time, no more denying her destiny. There went all her plans for a little peace and serenity in her life, because this is where and when she must stay. She must learn to live in the eighteenth century, think and act like a settler in the wilderness, and never, ever, look back. You don't have much choice, she fretted as she turned onto her side and pulled the covers up to her chin.

In the nighttime stillness, she squeezed her eyes shut, and for the first time since her journey to the eighteenth century, tears slid down her cheeks.

Sighing, she opened her eyes again and turned onto her back, her gaze covering every object in her bedroom--the small chest of drawers, her bedside table with the oil lamp, the washstand with the basin atop it. A light breeze blew through the open window, fluttering the lace curtains. Thankful she had a room of her own, she realized things could be a lot worse. What if she'd returned as an indentured servant or a homeless person?

Impossible desires and firm resolutions warred inside her, preventing further sleep. She drew her knees up and stared out the window as she waited for the dawn.

* * *

"You'll need material for dresses," Rebecca said after breakfast while she sat in the Windsor chair and read the Pennsylvania Gazette. The sunlight streamed through the open window to light the room with an amber glow, bringing all the quaint furnishings into focus. "Christian is going to the trading post at
Fort
Pitt
to collect sundry supplies he ordered, and he always stops by here first. Would you like to go with him?"

"Oh!" Mending a tear in one of Bryony's dresses, Gwen looked up in surprise, wondering if she'd have to spend the rest of her life performing these tiresome tasks. She gathered her thoughts in the common room where Lumi lay at her feet, paws twitching in his sleep.

Groggy from her sleepless night, she brought her mind back to the present and took a careful stitch in the linsey. "I don't have any money. How can I pay for anything? I sure would enjoy the trip, though," she quickly added as she glanced up from her sewing. Just she and Christian, alone for most of the day.

Rebecca folded the newspaper and set it on the table. "Pray don't worry about payment for now. We have good credit at the trading post, and besides, Daniel has performed many services for the proprietors." Rebecca smiled. "Oh, and don't forget the frolic we're having next week." She nodded at the tan linsey dress Gwen wore. "You'll want to wear something pretty when you meet all of your neighbors, I doubt not."

After one wry look at her drab dress with its mended and worn spots, its frayed hem, she exchanged a smile of mutual understanding with Rebecca. The only other one she owned was the blue calico dress she'd worn to the church service, and of course, the slinky rayon one from her own time. A new ensemble or two would be nice, especially since this one was so itchy, she thought as she resisted the urge to scratch. She cut the thread from Bryony's frock and set it on the table, then stood and picked the lint from her dress.

Rebecca rose from her chair, holding the lace curtains back to look out the front window. "I believe I hear the children. Now that Molly has returned, she can pack a repast for you and Christian. 'Twill take several hours to ride to
Fort
Pitt
and back," she explained with a glance at the lantern shelf clock. "Christian should be by soon, so best you get ready."

"Okay--all right," Gwen corrected herself, "but let me say one thing before I go to my room. You and your husband have been very kind to me, Mistress Chamberlain. I don't know how I'll ever repay you--"

"Please call me Rebecca. And we're happy to have you, Gwen. Truly we are."

"I appreciate that, but I'd like to repay you some way. I--no, let me finish. I know how busy you are, so maybe you don't have time to teach Bryony to read. I'd be happy to teach her to read and write and any other children around here who'd like to learn."

Rebecca gave her a grateful smile. "Why, how nice of you to consider that. Most of the other children live far away, so distance may be a problem. Their parents might not have the spare time to bring 'em." She tapped her fingers on the oak table. "We shall see what we can do."