Authors: Mary Adair
"Yes, of course. I just removed my gloves and I haven't had much sleep in the last couple of days," he lied.
Nicholas slapped him jovially once more on the shoulder and winked meaningfully. "Don’t you forget to be a gentleman. I'll see you in London." He turned and hurried toward the waiting coach.
The ache in Raven's side intensified. He gripped a handful of Eagle's mane and clung to his back for support as he willed the dizziness away. His condition worsened. Maybe Granny Wallace would have something to ease the pain and possible infection. He didn't want to think about the time required to remove the bullet and then regain his strength.
Fortunately the smith concluded his discussion with the other man and walked his way. Raven watched the man's short, brisk strides close the distance between then. His leather apron bore the marks of years at his trade, and his huge callused hands looked powerful enough to handle horse or steel.
'"Ow may I help ye?" the smith asked. "I noticed this big fellow is favoring his left flank." He patted the horse on his side and Eagle obediently lifted his foot.
"You have a good eye." Raven dabbed at his sweating brow with his handkerchief. "He picked up a ragged stone. I removed the stone and dressed his hoof a few miles back." He folded the handkerchief and replaced it in an inner pocket.
"Aye, an' a fine job ye did of it. I'd say a new shoe 'nd a night spent in this nice quiet stable 'nd he'll be right as rain." The smith ran his hands over the sleek coat. "Tis a mighty fine looking animal. Do a bit of horse tradin' do you?"
"Horse trading is one venture I've never tried my hand at. Eagle here was sired by one of the finest animals in the colonies and was gifted to me."
"A gift ye say?" Smith eyed Raven with suspicion. "Well, a fine gift to be sure."
"Yes, he was. A bit temperamental, though. Won't let anyone but myself or.. .Da.. .David, my younger brother, on him. You'll find, though, that he'll allow you to tend his hoof with no fuss."
"Ah, the young fellow 'at come in with ye. I seen 'im leavin' with Grandpa Wallace. Nice lookin' young lad. I wouldn't think such a skinny 'younker could handle a horse like this, but then them skinny 'younkers can fool ya."
"That they can."
***
Dawn forced herself to walk slowly and pretend interest in the things Grandpa pointed out to her on the way to his home. No matter how warm and inviting the village might be, her increasing concern for Raven overshadowed her interest in her surroundings. His color was a waning and she hadn't missed the hollowness of his eyes, a sure indication of rising fever. Also, his leaning on Eagle could only mean that he was in pain.
They finally stopped in front of a cottage. Just as Grandpa had promised, it was the last one on the lane and, in Dawn's opinion, the loveliest she had seen so far. The ivy-covered home and its gardens cradled snugly in the bosom of the woods that hovered protectively about the stonewall surrounding the house. Within, shorter walls neatly divided the paddock and encircled well-tended gardens. Though it was late into the growing season the gardens were alive with autumn herbs and late blooming flowers, their scents filling the air.
Grandpa opened the gate and let Dawn pass through as he called to his wife. "Granny, come and meet Dawn. She's from the colonies!"
His wife peeked from around a flowering shrub. Her smile was quick to appear and her tiny face, encircled by the ruffle of her mobcap, gleamed with welcome. Granny pushed herself to her feet and carefully dusted her apron and gloved hands as she walked forward to meet her visitor. Dawn could see at once that the woman's diminutive size did not mirror the size of her heart. Her spirit shone through eyes as warm and welcoming as the first rays of sun on a winter morning.
"How luvly to meet ye."
"You remember Raven Cloud? I told ye all about how he won that horse race a couple of years back. Dawn here is his fiancée."
"Yes, I remember ye goin' on 'bout that race." Granny tilted her head and grinned, as she removed a glove and offered her hand. "May I ask, why are ye dressed as a boy?"
Returning the older woman's open and friendly smile, Dawn reached for the extended hand. "It seems that everyone I meet asks the same question."
Granny's eyes darted as if insuring no curious townsfolk lingered nearby. "Well, I'm not surprised, my dear." She lowered her voice. "Do ye not know there are those who would take strong offence to yer choice of clothing—colonial or not?" Taking Dawn by the elbow, she ushered her down the path toward the porch and through the door.
The aroma of drying herbs drifted about Dawn as she entered the common room. Lavender and fennel mixed with cinnamon and camphor, garlic and peppermint blended with comfrey. All manner of herbs filled the room. Some hung from the low rafters, some lay tied in bundles and others were stacked in baskets. Two large chairs with overstuffed cushions were placed at each side of a small stone fireplace. The furniture was sparse, save for one larger table and a couple of smaller ones placed within easy reach of each chair.
On the larger table, and in baskets cluttering the floor, were items of importance to a herbalist. Trinkets that no doubt held a special place in the hearts of her host and hostess were carefully placed on tables as well as graced the walls. She found the gentle aroma of the herbs and the busy clutter of the warm room welcoming and somehow soothing to her spirit. No doubt, a woman with Granny's obvious love for herbs would have the potions she needed for Raven.
Granny drew her attention back. "Come into the kitchen, Dawn. We'll 'ave a nice cup of tea." She poked her head out and called to Grandpa, who was already on his way out of the garden. "Will ye join us, Grandpa?"
"No, dear," he answered her. "I want to go back to the stables and be sure Raven finds his way 'ere. I shan't be long." He closed the wooden gate and hurried down the path.
Granny shut the door and turned to Dawn. "This way, then" She indicated a door to their right. "I am so anxious to 'ear all about the adventure you're on."
"Adventure?" Dawn asked with surprise.
She followed Granny into a kitchen, much larger than she had expected to see in the small cottage. Granny pulled out a chair for Dawn and then quickly set about to collect a service for her guest.
Dawn noticed the patchwork design on the fluffy pillow placed in the chair seat. She discreetly fingered the colorful, sturdy fabric of the cushion as she lowered herself. Her mother would love such a cushion, she mused. She would make her one just as soon as all was settled.
The clinking of pottery as Granny bustled about to fetch cups from the cupboard drew Dawn's attention back to the room. All about the tidy kitchen were open rows of shelves arranged with a large array of glass jars filled with an assortment of dried leaves.
"My, you are well stocked," Dawn commented. She tried not to fidget, and wondered when Raven would arrive.
Granny filled two cups with a strong aromatic brew, then seated herself and grinned proudly. "Yes, I am. I must be. I take care of as many as I can. I grow tha herbs what I can cultivate, but there are many others what one must go out into the forest and harvest if you want 'em to be at their best." She patted Dawn's hand. "Now, you were going ta tell me all 'bout yer adventure."
"Ah, yes. Why am I dressed as a boy?" Dawn found Granny as likeable as Grandpa. Her instincts were seldom wrong about people, and her feelings about the elderly couple were soothing.
Peering over the rim of her cup in anticipation, Granny sipped the honey-sweetened brew.
"Well," Dawn began, "Raven and I are on a trip to York to purchase an herb for a dear friend of ours. Time cannot be wasted, so I'm dressed in this fashion to ride astride and cut the travel time in half. On the way we ran into a bit of trouble. Three highwaymen thought to hold us up."
"Oh, dear." Granny lowered her cup. "Was either of you injured?"
"Yes, actually. But not seriously," she rushed to reassure Granny. "Raven received a small bullet graze on his side. I was hoping you would have a potion for his wound and maybe even a compound for a stone bruise for one of our mounts."
"My, my." Granny beamed with pleasure. She reached over and patted Dawn's hand. "Don't ye worry about a thing. I can fix you all right up. I'm pleased yer friend is not seriously injured. Those highwaymen can be a dangerous lot."
She moved to her cupboard. "I 'ave a wide variety of herbs as ye can see. Don't worry 'bout the horse, I keep the smith well stocked. He'll 'ave everything he needs. As for Raven, I'm sure I'll have just what he needs and will tend that wound as soon as he gets 'ere with Grandpa. Now, tell me about your friend's ailment and I'll mix up what you need. The trip to York may not be necessary at all."
Dawn was immediately hopeful. "My friend is about your age and has a condition of the heart. In the land of my home, we have a plant called Bearded Tongue. It is of a very pale pink with a beard of yellow hairs."
Granny raised her hand. "I know just what you are looking for. 'Ere it's called foxglove." She turned and rummaged through her bottles. Finding what she wanted, she returned, bottle in hand. "I 'ave plenty of foxglove. Are ye well versed in its use? It can be as harmful, if not used properly, as it can be a life saver."
Dawn pushed herself up and hurried forward. She took the bottle, uncorked it, and examined the contents. "Yes, I know all about the herb, except that it grew here. The King sent my Da to my land. He was a physician, among other things." She peeked at Granny through her lashes and grinned. "My mother is Cherokee." At Granny's look of confusion she added, "An Indian."
Granny's hands flew to her tiny rosebud mouth. Her eyes above her fingers showed excitement. Dawn held her breath.
"What? Ye be an Indian? " She lowered her hands to grip them together before her chest. Her face now beamed with pleasure. "I would never 'ave guessed. 'Twas told to me the Indians 'ad red skin and dark hair. I 'ave heard the Americas are rich in plants and the Indians know every use there be of every herb." Granny reached out to place her hands over Dawn’s, which gripped the jar. She patted her briskly. "You take this, I'm sure you 'ave no need for me to explain its use."
Dawn released her breath. Granny's unexpected response brought a relieved sigh. She never knew what response to expect from these Englishmen, and would not have let it slip she was Indian if her thinking were not muddled by her concern for Raven. "Thank you, but I'm sure there is much I could learn from you."
Granny took the jar from Dawn and placed it on the table. "Will you come with me to the garden? Maybe we can teach each other."
"I would enjoy that. Do you think it will be much longer before Grandpa returns with Raven?"
With a firm grip on Dawn's hand, Granny led her from the kitchen through a back door and into the garden. "I expect them to return any moment." Stopping, she pronounced proudly, "This is my autumn garden."
She had reason to be proud, Dawn conceded as she squatted down to examine the hardy plants.
"Granny!"
The front door slammed shut as Grandpa's urgent call reached them. Granny placed a hand on Dawn's arm. The world around Dawn seemed to shrink as she slowly lowered her gaze to Granny's hand and then looked up into her eyes. She heard Grandpa's hurried steps, the urgency in his voice, even the sound of birds singing, but it all seemed distant and unreal. The only reality was the look of uncertainty in Granny's eyes and the tingle of fear that raced along her skin as she remembered the vision of a raven falling from the sky.
"Granny, Dawn!" Grandpa burst into the garden. "Raven is bein' 'eld by the Magistrate. '"E's been accused of stealing one of Lord Whitmore's prized 'orses."
Dawn shook herself. "I must go to him."
Grandpa shook his head and looked to Granny for understanding. "You can't go," he told Dawn. "They be looking for ye as well."
"Oh, dear. Oh, dear," Granny echoed.
Both Granny and Grandpa sounded as if they spoke from the bottom of a deep well. Dawn pushed herself up and then helped Granny to rise. "I love Raven. I must go to him," she announced and would have walked away had not Grandpa held her firm.
"Ye dare not, Dawn. I fear there is a great mischief 'ere. Why would anyone accuse Raven of such a thing? Why would he bring ye on a journey dressed in this way, and why would he be ill?"
Dawn could not believe what she was hearing. "How could you know that Raven is ill?"
"I saw it with me own eyes. Oh, 'e tries to hide it alright, but I 'ave been married to me wife too long not to recognize illness when I see it." Grandpa let his hand drop and stepped back. "I think Raven is in danger and maybe you as well. I will take ye somewhere safe."
"Grandpa is right," Granny added the weight of her argument to her husband's. "This isn't somethin' for a woman to get in the middle of. Ye go along with Grandpa. He'll take ye someplace safe," Granny continued in short clipped sentences, and in a not to be argued with tone. "I'll go meself to offer medicinal aid to Raven. The Magistrate will not deny Raven to be cared for. Someone will leave this very night to fetch Lord Whitmore home. I know 'im very well. He'll come right away."
Dawn fought her growing dread as she tried to explain. "You don't understand. I know Raven is in danger. It's why I'm here. He is my passion.. .my mate. I would never leave him alone."