“We followed the river most of the way.”
“We don't have anything that we can’t replace with a few coins and some hard work, I guess. But right now we have food cooking, and a shirt to swap. We haven’t seen my sister over in Springtown for nearly a year, and my wife’s been talking that up for a while. Today would be a good day to head her way.”
Hannah was amazed at the farmer. She couldn’t hold herself back from asking, “Sir, why are you so trusting of us? Anyone could say they will repay you.”
He almost smiled, “Not everyone stood behind Sir James while he led the charge at Bloom Hill. Try as I might to keep up, he ran faster than me, or any of us. By the time we reached those Blues, he had half of them slain and the other half on the run.”
“That’s not true, and you know it,” Sir James said with an embarrassed chuckle. “I thought you looked familiar.”
“Name’s Cooper. Corporal Cooper way back then. We were both a lot younger.”
As they neared the house, Hannah smelled the ham frying. The front door opened, and a withered woman with a bent back emerged, throwing an arm around Hannah and escorting her inside where two more sons were finishing their meals.
Then the woman saw Sir James. Her eyes went wide, and she curtsied as best as her back allowed. He said, “You also recognize me?”
“I am called Tara. I traveled with my husband when he served you, like so many other wives and girlfriends. I stood on Bloom Hill and watched you defend your men, my man included. Your sword flashed and swung until you saved them all.”
“Well, I hate to admit that this time I’ve brought you problems. Your family needs to leave today to see your husband’s sister.” Sir James looked sorry, sad, and tired.
She closed her eyes and squeezed them shut, then opened them and set her face to one a wife uses when danger is near her children. “None of your doing, I’m sure. But first, can you take the time to eat?”
“Is it ready?”
“I wouldn’t delay just to cook a meal for you with danger approaching, not even as good a man as you are. The food is ready, and we have roads to travel before the sun is high,” she took the time to give a weak smile at Hannah. “I have something that will fit you a mite better than that shirt.”
The meal was devoured instead of eaten. While Hannah and Sir James were busy with it, one of the boys rounded up two horses and the makeshift saddles. The wife called Tara gathered hard bread, carrots, dried meat, and a dress for Hannah. She filled a cloth sack with the food while Hannah slipped into the shirt. Sir James accepted two rolled blankets.
Back outside of the farmhouse, Hannah noticed the boys were hitching the third horse to a wagon, and already valuables were being loaded into the back by four sons racing from place to place so fast they were acting like sweets were offered for the fastest. While they knew the situation held danger, it had turned into a contest for the boys, a break in their everyday routine. She saw one carrying the iron plow cradled in his arms as if it was a child, as well as another carrying knives used for butchering the animals. Another carried dried meat and sacks of rye and oat flour, as well as smaller sacks of seed. The wagon stood half-filled already. They’d be on the road to the sister’s farm long before the sun reached mid-morning, as a testament to their fear and good sense.
Sir James climbed onto the larger horse, a bay with large hooves and a gentle temperament, with the ease of a rider who mounted a steed regularly, while Hannah struggled to climb up on an old mare with large white blotches on her brown coat. Once up, her animal didn’t move. Hannah had watched Cleanup work with, and behind, the horses but neither of them had never sat on one of them. She felt elated to have reached the saddle without mishap.
“Take hold of the reins like this,” Sir James holding his up for her to see. He pointed at one of the boys, “You there, can you adjust her stirrups?”
The boy was near her age, ten at the most, and he leaped to obey. Once they were hiked all the way up, Hannah found she could stand in them, her bottom clear of the saddle and looked to Sir James for approval.
“You’ll be glad of that once we ride.” He turned and tied the rolled blankets to the rear of the saddle and accepted the bag of food closed with a drawstring that he tied on the front of the saddle. He acted like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.
The farmer and his wife came to the front door and waved. The children carried more household goods to the wagon, and Hannah knew they’d be leaving soon. She wished them well. Hannah thought of all the glittering coins they had left lying on the floor of the carriage—and of all the good it would do if she had but a few of them here to give these people who helped her so readily. But they were not helping her. They were helping Sir James.
He leaned a little forward, catching her attention, and looked at his heels as he touched the horse with them. The horse moved ahead. Hannah duplicated his actions, and as the horse started, she almost fell over the rump. Only a last second grab of the front of the saddle saved her, but it didn’t save her from the laughter of the boys behind. In her experience, boys tended to laugh any time people made simple mistakes. She sat tall, like Sir James, and refused to turn her head.
The saddle bounced her in a regular rhythm that began to hurt long before they were out of sight of the farm. She twisted and leaned to one side, but the saddle repeatedly slapped her inner legs and butt. How can Sir James stand it?
Instead of fighting it, or asking for his help, she looked at him and how he sat. His head and shoulders remained almost still. As the horse’s back went down, he used his legs to lift himself the same amount. When the horse came back up the saddle touched Sir James as softly as a leaf falling before winter. She tried copying him and didn’t stand high enough. The saddle caught her by surprise and almost tossed her into the air. She grabbed for a handhold again, and when the saddle came up the next time, she stood tall enough to avoid it striking her.
But the half-crouch that saved her from the saddle quickly tired her legs. Soon, her thighs and calves were cramping.
Sir James said, “You almost have it. Now, rock front and back a little until you match the gait.”
As the saddle came up again, she met it with her bottom and leaned ahead just enough to let it softly lift her a few inches. Her bottom didn’t leave the saddle. The movement provided enough movement to toss her up just enough so she could set in the saddle as it lowered. A little work and a few adjustments and the ride almost became comfortable.
Then, Sir James pointed to a place where the ground changed from soft dirt to solid rock. He pulled his horse to stop and handed the reins to Hannah as he dismounted. “See those trees over there? I think I see a path right below that tall pine. Walk the horses over there slowly while I take care of our tracks. Stay on the hard ground.”
Watching behind, she saw him use his hands to smudge the horse’s tracks away. When satisfied, he jogged to join her at the edge of a forest filled with pine, cedar, and fir, all evergreen trees and little underbrush. She said, “Wiping away the tracks like that won’t fool anyone.”
“Depends,” he smiled, motioning for her to take the lead down the path. “It depends on if they know we’re on horses, and it depends on if they know which way we went, or where we are.” He sounded almost like the teachers she’d listened to when she huddled below the school window. He went on, “It also depends on who else travels that road before they come after us. It’ll only take one horse or maybe a hay wagon to cover our tracks so even the best tracker can’t follow what he can’t see.”
“Will you make sure those nice farmer people get paid for these two horses?” She asked.