There. It was said out loud. Amity’s dream blackened. She wouldn’t make it to the mountains after all.

  “I think, Miss Clementine, you should give me your direction. I’m not staying in Winchester long. I plan to go to the mission towns.”

  Clementine said nothing. She took a long look at Mary. “It’s a hard job, but you’ve seen worse.” She reached for Mary. “God bless you, and your child…”

  “I must go where He calls me. I’ve felt this calling for some time now.”

  “Then you must go. Amity will write my direction for you, and you let me know if you need anything.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I am sincere, Mary. I cannot come with you, but if I can help you, write to me and I’ll send what I can.”

  “Me, too.” Amity chimed in handing Mary a paper with both Clementine’s and her directions. “Let us hear from you often. I’ll need to know where to send your copy of the book.”

  Mary’s eyes lit. “Oh, yes, I’d nearly forgotten.”

  Amity closed the door for their guests and turned to find Clementine’s shrewd eyes focused on her.

  “It’s time you got some rest and cleaned up.” Her aunt instructed.

  Amity touched her hair and ran a hand down her stomacher. A bath would be lovely. She grinned. “I could say the same for you.”

  “Call for Matilda. She will help me.”

  After a bath and donning a clean dress of blue cotton. Amity felt ready to answer the message sent by Mr. Moses that Lucy’s papers were ready for their signatures. She found Lucy downstairs with Simon in the private parlor dressed in her red cotton standing tall next to Jax. “Are we ready then?”

  A crisp sunshine met them on the porch. The temperature had dropped since the previous day, and Amity was glad of her woolen cloak. Jax took the lead with Lucy on his arm. Amity was glad to follow on Simon’s. Lucy walked down the street head high. She and Jax whispered to each other like the other couples they passed. Amity knew it wouldn’t be as easy as this short walk was turning out to be, but today she would take it as presentment of a happy future for her friend.

  Mr. Moses met them at the door and escorted them into his small office. The men remained standing in the background as Amity and Lucy conducted their business. Moses looked surprised that Lucy could sign her name.

  “Miss Amity has always been my friend.” She glanced at Amity sitting beside her. “I can say that now.”

  Eyes filled with tears they held hands.

  Mr. Moses slid their copies of the papers across his desk.

  “I wish you peace and happiness, Miss Lucy.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Moses. I wish you the same.”

  They left and went straight back to the tavern.

  “I’m gonna put my paper in a safe place. I don’t want to lose it while we’s shopping this afternoon.”

  Amity followed Lucy up to their room. She took a seat on the bed while Lucy placed her paper in her satchel.

  “Lucy, may I have a word?”

  Lucy sat next to Amity.

  Amity reached across and took Lucy’s hand.

  “I hope you can forgive me…I didn’t…” She didn’t know how to say that she’d never realized her childhood friend was a slave and all that it entailed. Kept against her will, made to work… “I don’t have the words, Lucy.”

  “Amity, you are my friend. You are forgiven. There’s all kinds of trouble in this world, and you did your part to make it right. The light is shining out from under your bushel.”

  Lucy held out her arms, and Amity rested in her embrace. Amity had done something right, but how had she not seen what was wrong in the first place? She had a lot of thinking to do. Amity placed the ten pounds into Lucy’s hands. “I will give you more before you leave. I’m waiting to hear from my father.”

  “Mr. Simon told Jax he’d give him a stake so we can buy us some land in Ohio.”

  “I know, but I want you to know that you can write to me if you need anything. I will send help as I can.”

  “Thank you, Miss Amity.”

  “I will have to come and see your babies.”

  Lucy blushed. “It’s time you were thinking about babies of your own.”

  “You may be right. I had thought that time was past, but I used to think I knew a lot of things that I’m not so certain about now.”

  “I’ve seen the way Mr. Simon looks at you. Has looked at you for years.”

  Amity could no longer deny the love she felt for him. Whether it would work out, she didn’t know. The opportunity to discuss the kiss that highlighted her dreams hadn’t been possible while her aunt burned with fever. Perhaps tonight.

  “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  20

  Simon arrived in the private dining chamber a few minutes before seven. He chose a spot at the table that would allow him to clearly see the faces of all the men John invited. At John Parchment’s arrival with a more somberly dressed Roger White. Mrs. Blackstone swirled in wearing a fashionable cotton gown of a crimson that leant warmth to her porcelain complexion.

  “Mrs. Blackstone, I had heard this was your tavern, but I’ve not seen you these few days we’ve stayed here.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Morgan. I hope you do not feel slighted, I have been frightfully busy since my return, but I had to stop for a very few minutes to greet the husband of my oldest and dearest friend.” She extended her hand to John who bowed over it.

  “No offense taken.” Simon bowed. In fact, he was quite pleased he’d not had to deal with her, their last encounter being less than pleasant.

  Other guests arrived on the heels of John and White. Mrs. Blackstone stayed long enough to be introduced to Mr. Cason Dawley, a severe man, tall and gaunt; Mr. Joel Singleton also tall, but he hadn’t missed many meals; and Mr. Dennis Cornick a short trim man when compared to the other two was very ordinary indeed; before declaring herself terribly busy and departing in swirl of crimson.

  “Gentleman.” Simon bowed to the men and waved to seats for them all.

  John closed the door behind him.

  Silence reigned until tankards arrived for each of the men. Dawley nodded to John to close the door.

  “Now that we are alone, I think we can begin.” He glanced around the table for agreement and leaned onto his forearms resting not the table. Simon sat back in his chair. “Mr. Morgan, let me begin by telling you how much we appreciate your time.”

  Simon inclined his head.

  “Might we see the stone?” Greedy eyes and bobbing heads circled the table.

  Reluctance stiffened his fingers and straightened his back.

  “Before I do that, I should like to understand exactly your interest in the stone.”

  “We believe it might be the Horeb stone.”

  “Yes. I’ve heard that, what exactly does the Horeb stone do for you?”

  Dawley looked around the table once again. Simon followed his glance and took in puzzled looks.

  “You mean you don’t know?” Cornick asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “Not in the least.” Frustration raised Simon’s normally even tone.

  “Please, keep your voice down.” Dawley made downward movements with boney hands.

  “The Horeb stone will allow the user to ask questions of God.”

  “Gentleman, I hardly think that a little stone will let you talk to God.”

  Movement rustled through the men. Obviously, they did not agree. Simon reached for the stone in his pocket.

  “If we may see, perhaps we can make that determination.” Dawley nearly salivated. Beads of sweat popped out on his overly large brow. He had to stop himself from rubbing his hands together.

  “Mr. Moses, you’re a Jew. You cannot believe this is true.”

  “There are many things in the world that people know little about, Simon. Powerful things.”

  Simon reached into his pocket. Cool to the touch, the stone sat in the palm of his hand as if it belonged there.

  “I will place it on the table. I request that you ask before you touch it in any way.”

  “Mr. Morgan, we did not come to steal the stone, only to observe it.”

  “The rule stands.”

  The rest of them nodded their agreement.

  “Very well.”

  Simon placed his fist over the center of the table and slowly released the stone from fingers still stiffened by reluctance.

  Roger White stood. “It’s not the same stone.”

  “I assure you it is.”

  “It’s not the same color.”

  “That has happened one time before.”

  “You mean it has changed color?” Dawley’s chair creaked as he shifted forward.

  “Yes, it is also cooler to the touch. I am sure it will return to normal after you gentleman depart.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “It is what happened the last time.”

  “May I?” Roger White kept his hands folded on the table in front of him waiting.

  “Yes.”

  Boney fingers lifted the stone from the table. “It’s as cold as the winter wind.”

  “What did it look like before?” Singleton asked, never taking his eyes from the muddy green stone White held to the candle near him.

  “It was clear green like an aquamarine.” White spoke in an awed whisper, “The writing looks the same.”

  “When you are finished you may place the stone back on the table.” Simon ordered. “After he puts it down, Mr. Moses, I would like you to take a look at the writing.”

  Joseph picked up the stone and held it to the candle flame. “Roger is right; it is cold.” He stared at the center of the stone. “I am not permitted to say His name, but it is our people’s name for the God of Israel.” Joseph put the stone back on the table. A thoughtful expression replaced the usual twinkle in his dark eyes.

  Singleton picked it up next. He agreed it was cold and placed it back on the table clearly not impressed. John declined a turn. Dawley placed it between his thumb and forefinger and tested its smoothness. Before Simon could declare enough, Dawley put it back on the table.

  “Mr. Morgan”--Dawley sat back in his much protesting chair-- “Are you available to meet with us again tomorrow night?”

  Simon did not take his eyes of the stone. “Is tonight not enough?”

  “We would like to evaluate the stone in a more formal setting.”

  Simon palmed the stone and placed it back where it belonged.

  ~*~

  “Come and sit by me.” Clementine patted the space on the bed.

  Amity closed her journal and sat next to her aunt.

  “Are you sorry to go home without seeing those mountains?”

  Amity picked the edge of her mantua pushing down her disappointment. “Yes. I am disappointed, but it’s been a glorious trip—aside from your mishap—” She felt herself redden.

  Clementine chuckled deep and took Amity’s hand. “Good. I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

  Amity searched her aunt’s eyes. “I shouldn’t be so selfish.”

  “Feeling disappointment isn’t selfish. It’s what you do with it that matters.”

  “I shall have to think about that for a while, I think.”

  “You do that, but after you tell me about your Mr. Morgan. I don’t imagine you have seen much of him since I have been ill.”

  “No, I haven’t. I’ve been here with you.”

  “I may not be your mother, but I can tell when something is going on, so you better just tell me.”

  The glow she felt every time she thought of the kiss they shared warmed her middle and radiated out to all her limbs. Amity grinned. “I don’t want to read too much into it…” The boldness, an ever-ready part of her nature fled she knew not where.

  “He kissed you then?”

  Her discomfort deepened as her face flushed.

  “And about time too.” Glee beamed from every crease in Clementine’s visage. Dreams of hazel-eyed babies and slow walks in the evenings intruded into the candle-lit room.

  “I thought I would never marry.”

  “Why ever would you think such a thing?”

  “I decided when I was a young girl that I would not marry unless I could be as happy as my parents—and you and Uncle William—”

  “We were very happy.”

  “Yes, but not everyone of our acquaintance is so blessed in their marriages.”

  “True, and though William and I were very happy, what your parents have…I’ve never seen their like.”

  “And when Simon didn’t love me as I loved him, I knew I would have to find someone else to love…and I never did.”

  Clementine reached for her hand.

  “Simon Morgan loves you, child. And if I am not mistaken, it is not a new feeling for him.”

  “We have not had a chance to speak alone together these past few days. Hopefully, we will have the chance before we leave for home.”

  “Give him time…he is likely being careful out of respect for me. Now that I am better, I think you will see him move much more quickly indeed.”

  “I hope you are right.”

  “Of course I’m right. And tomorrow I’m getting out of this bed and going downstairs to eat a proper meal.”

  ~*~

  Winifred stepped silently away from the door to the private dining chamber to her room. Tomorrow night Dawley and the others would take possession of the stone; there was no doubt of that. Through the crack in the adjoining door, she gazed at her son. Steady deep breaths filled his room. She closed the door gently.

  An oval framed pencil sketch she’d made of Charlie while they were courting hung on the wall next to her looking glass. A flirty smile and an appraising eye met her gaze.

  “Not tonight, Charlie.” She focused her attention to her own face. Severity replaced the plump softness Charlie had admired. Definitely not the girl she’d been when she married Charlie Blackstone. “Enough.” She told herself eye to eye as she released her long black hair to fall in soft curls about her shoulders. “Better.” A little rouge. “Better, still.” She unpinned her stomacher placing the pins in the little dish Charlie bought when… “Enough.” Her finest chemise, most delicate robe, and slippers. She stood again in front of the glass. “Even better.”

  All she had to do was wait.

  ~*~

  Amity left her aunt with a promise of getting out of bed in the morning. She tiptoed into her room hoping not to wake Lucy who must be sleeping soundly by now.

  “I’m awake, Miss Amity.”

  “No more “miss”, just Amity.”

  “I can’t believe it’s real. So many things happening all at once.”

  Amity sat on the edge of her own bed. Lucy rolled to face her on her bed next to the opposite wall.

  “I confess I didn’t know you had an understanding with Jax.”

  “I won’t say it was an understanding exactly…well, maybe that is what it was. I often wondered why he didn’t leave when Master Morgan freed him, but we never talked about it until yesterday. Then he told me he was waiting for me.”

  A bubbly warmth filled Amity overflowing into a grin. “I’m so happy for you.”

  Lucy grinned back. Amity was reminded of their childhood conspiracies.

  “Do you remember those cookies your mama used to bake when the weather got cold and we couldn’t play outside?” Amity asked.

  “Hmmm.”

  “Your mama makes the best food I ever ate.” Cold thread weaved into the warmth of happiness. “What do you want me to tell your mama?”

  “Tell her I’ll be back for her.”

  “Lucy, I—” Amity bit back her words. She couldn’t betray her father’s trust not even this once. It could mean that Lucy would never be reunited with her mama.

  “What is it Miss Amity?”

  “Nothing. I will tell your mama that you are coming. And I’ll tell Papa that you plan to do so. That way he’ll be ready.” Flickering candlelight danced on the floor between them. “You will write to me and let me know how you are doing?”

  “Of course I will. Did you see Mr. Moses’ face when he saw me write my name?”

  Fits of giggles and many reminisces later Amity stood and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

  “As ready as I’m gonna be.”

  Amity excused herself and made her way down to the necessary.

  21

  Light still rimmed Amity’s door when Simon approached his own room. He felt the stone resting in his pocket, had it returned to its normal color? Ultimately, it did not matter. Finally, after years of waiting, the woman he wanted, dreamed of for ten years, was nearly his. There were so many things yet to be discovered. Who was he to say that young Tom was wrong? Since owning the stone, he did indeed have what he always wanted. At least he was closer than he’d ever been. He never thought he’d see the day he’d hold Amity Archer in his arms. He would attend the meeting with Dawley and the others tomorrow night, but they would be sorely disappointed if they thought he’d give up the stone now.

  He closed the door quietly behind him and pulled off his coat. What a luxury to have a room to oneself in a tavern. He wrestled the knot at his throat and collapsed into the chair under the window next to his bed. His leather paper case rested on the tabletop. Time to record the events of the evening. Someday, he would tell their children about the stone and how it brought their parents together.

  Limbs sprawled he rested his head and closed his eyes.

  A creak in the hallway caused him to sit up. Best begin before he found himself in the morning stiff in the chair.

  A key slipped into the lock of his door.

  Simon drew his pack toward his chair.

  The lock clunked open.

  He reached for his rifle.

  The doorknob turned.

  A white figure slipped in through the small crack of the door. Simon lowered his rifle as he straightened to his full height. Winifred Blackstone, clad in a lacy shift and delicate robe, turned to face him after locking the door once more.

  “What are you doing?”

  Her expression blanked as if he caught her by surprise. The smirk returned quickly. She took a step toward him.