Jamie was back in minutes. He was followed by a sweaty, ruddy-faced Andrew, clearly anxious at being called from his work. He couldn’t imagine what would be important enough to call him from timbering.
Molly took a seat on a stump between the two men, clearly interested in what business Joseph James had with him. Rosemarie, dawdling at serving milk and cookies to the children lingered on the sidelines. She had no intention of missing out on anything to do with Andrew. Curtly, Molly dismissed her. “Rosemarie, be about your own business.”
“Andrew, Mr. Joseph James would have a word with you.” Molly explained.
“I heard you’ve just escaped from a long time with the Indians. Me an’ Marthy wanted to know if you’d heard anything of our girl Sarah. She was out berrying an’ was took by the Indians about a year ago. She was a little yellow-haired girl not as big as Marthy. She’d be turning sixteen tomorrow. She’s been gone a long time, but we been trying to hold out hope for her. Did you see her?” Joseph gave Andrew a pitiful look.
Andrew looked stricken and struggled for words. “Mr. James, I did see a girl named Sarah. She was in the camp where I was for a while. I’m sorry to tell you she died along with most of the Indians when the sickness came through. That’s when I escaped.”
Marthy gasped and looked faint. Molly moved to support the pitiful woman. “Let’s get you in to lie down.” She offered, kindly.
Joseph put his arm around his wife. “No Missus. We’ll be better off getting home. We weren’t expecting good news. Thank you.” The sad little family and shuffled down the dusty road toward home.
Nutsrok 