Chapter 1: A Convenient Arrangement

Ruth Abernathy could remember the day that the war had taken its greatest price from her. It was oddly quiet when her cousin drove the wagon down the forest path which led to Pembroke. He stopped the wagon to check on one of the horses. Ruth walked around to stretch her legs, looking up at the sky to see black smoke above the trees. John discovered his horse had a broken shoe but thought it would be fine for the couple of miles they had left to go. He would have a blacksmith fix one for him once he got there. Ruth hopped back into the wagon and they continued on. Ruth gazed up above the tree line, watching the smoke trail away.

However, when they reached Pembroke, the sight before them was confusing. The church was freshly burnt down. There were still red glowing embers and the smoke had not dissipated. No one was seen and the town was perfectly still. Ruth jumped off the wagon and ran to her brother's shop. She knew he would be there that time of day but everything was quiet. Scissors sat on the counter, placed down halfway through cutting fabric. It was then that Ruth heard horses in the distance and men shouting from outside the shop. She looked out the window to see who they were, recognizing them immediately. It was Mr. Martin and his militia men. Her cousin John caused her to jump when he ran into the shop and grabbed her by the arm.

"What's happening?" she shouted at him but he didn't answer. She stumbled down the steps and across the way as he pulled her. He opened the door of her family home and walked her inside.

"You need to grab everything of value and pack it," he muttered as he pulled his hair and stood in the doorway. He didn't know how to handle the situation. He wasn't thinking straight.

Ruth stood still and looked outside. It suddenly hit her what happened. From the window, she could see a lock hanging from one of the freshly charred doors. She walked back outside and John sat down on a chair, placing his head between his knees and sobbing.

Ruth stood looking at the church as she held onto the white picket gate, trying to gather her thoughts. She saw some of the men had begun to pick bodies out of the ashes.

Dan Scott, her second cousin, picked something out of the ruins that he recognized next to an unidentifiable body. He looked back at Ruth who was now sitting on the ground, no doubt in complete shock. He held the small watch in his hand and shook his head. He reluctantly walked out of the rubble and towards Ruth. She looked up at him when his shadow blocked the sun. Her face was red from crying. Her hand was desperately clutched against her mouth to muffle her cries. She shook her head as he crouched down and handed her the watch. It was her brother's.

She had been living with her brother and his wife after their father and his second wife, her mother, had caught fever. She was only seven at the time. That watch had come with her to Pembroke. It was a gift of gratitude from their father for agreeing to take her in. They passed shortly afterwards. The letter arrived a week later. She had dealt with loss before but now that she was older, it hurt more. It crushed her.

John found someone to help fix the horse shoe in a nearby town. A blacksmith agreed to help John for free. It was the least he could do. A couple of Mr. Martin's men stayed behind to help pick up the pieces in Pembroke. Ruth enlisted the help of a couple of them to pack up her family belongings and load them into the wagon John had left behind. She didn't try to talk to any of them. She was overcome with too much grief. She didn't even ask them their names. She just did what had to be done and they understood. John returned with the horse and took Ruth to her aunt and uncle's farm, an entire day's journey. It would be six years before the war ended and Ruth saw Pembroke again.

The war ended in 1783, leaving her aunt a widow. Ruth was twenty-four by then and her aunt had no money left to care for her. The war had left men scarce for the choosing where they lived. Ruth hadn't thought of romance while the war was raging but she knew that someday she would have to marry in order to not be a burden. She found herself, during the war, busy mending buttons and holes in the uniforms of bands of soldiers and militia men who stopped to rest and set up camp for a night at the farm. Occasionally a group of red coats would show up and her aunt, to avoid trouble, would feed them while Ruth nervously sewed whatever was thrown at her. She usually kept to herself, hiding away, not making eye contact with any of the soldiers out of the fear.

She found that war left no time for anything. When it was over and her cousin John returned, things were never the same. He took to the bottle and withdrew from life. The farm began to fall apart from neglect. Ruth and her aunt tried to keep it up but slowly and surely the pigs, horses, sheep, and cows disappeared as they were sold to make due or slaughtered for food. Pieces of the farm went in different directions, sold for a smaller price than they were worth. The land remained untilled and the ground was fallow. Her aunt grow desperate, and two years after the war had ended, it caused her to write Ruth's great aunt for help.

….

A little woman hobbled up the steps with her walking stick and shooed John away when he clumsily tried to help her. She scowled at the smell of his gin soaked breath. Ruth was placing a bowl of thin biscuits on the table when the woman came into the room.

"Oh dear," the little woman said with a snarky tone as she looked over at Ruth's other aunt, "Been having trouble keeping the place clean, Anna?"

Ruth looked up at the woman and stopped what she was doing. She hadn't seen her great aunt in quite some time but she hadn't forgotten her face and her personality. She was a blunt woman. She wasn't keen on introductions and never beat about the bush.

Anna sighed and turned around to tend to the fireplace, choosing to forget the woman's comment. She was tired. Ruth smiled at her great aunt as she sat down in a chair.

"We were expecting you tomorrow at the latest-"

"No need for pleasantries, dear," the woman interrupted, "I've come to discuss business."

"Aunt Anna told me you were just paying a visit," Ruth replied innocently looking over at her Aunt Anna, "Is there a motive behind this I wasn't told about?"

"Ruth," her Aunt Anna spoke up, motioning for her to sit down, glaring over at her aunt, "I was hoping to ease myself into this rather than just bluntly say it but my aunt wouldn't have it any other way… It's about time I told you. I have to sell the farm, dear."

Ruth looked down at her apron. This wasn't too bad, she convinced herself. She had had bigger shocks in her life than the selling of a farm. She had never felt a deep connection to the place. It had always served as a reminder of loss, a temporary home.

"Where will we go?" she asked her Aunt Anna after a couple minutes of silence.

"She will stay with me," her great Aunt spoke up, "I need extra help about the place anyhow."

"Oh," Ruth looked down at her hands and then realized something, "Then, what of me?"

Her aunts glanced at one another.

"You're young," her Aunt Anna said as she saw that Ruth knew what was coming. Before the girl could protest, she raised her voice higher, "well, not really, you're twenty six. Ruth, it's high time you married. I don't have the money to care for you. John has to make his own way. What are you going to do? Sew to make a living?"

Ruth crunched her eyebrows together in frustration and scoffed, "Marry? There are no men about for me to marry. My engagement was broken off when the war started. It would take me far too long to find someone. Who would want me?"

"Yes, well-" her great aunt said reluctantly, "I've made arrangements for you to solve this."

Ruth stood up as she smelt the food burning in the fireplace, "What do you-"

"Perhaps you should sit down again," her great aunt chimed in. Ruth turned around and sat back down slowly.

"I have found someone who has agreed to marry you," her great aunt bluntly said once Ruth had finally settled into the chair. Ruth's reaction wasn't the one she expected. She thought the girl would give up some fight.

Ruth looked out the window and saw her cousin drunkenly stumbling out of his chair to head inside. She knew her only way to survive now was through marriage. She felt a bit reluctant but looked back at her aunts, who were nervously fidgeting as they waited to hear her answer.

"Is he a good man?" she finally asked.

"I believe so," her great aunt said, "I've only met him a couple times. He owns about 10 acres near Mr. Martin. You remember him?"

"Yes," Ruth said as she tried to push back the memory of Pembroke again.

"Well, this man has a new home and no wife to help fill it," the old woman said, "What do you say?"

Ruth sighed. When she was younger she never knew this was how it would happen. She always had imagined, before the war, that she would fall in love and then marry. It almost happened but the consequences of war broke those dreams apart. This seemed so strange and out of order to her but it was not the first time this sort of marriage had taken place, she knew.

"I guess I have no other choice given the circumstances," Ruth finally answered. Her aunts sighed in relief.

"There is one thing you should know so you're not shocked," her great aunt chuckled. Ruth cringed, thinking her aunt was finally going to tell her the downside once she agreed. What was it going to be? Ruth thought to herself.

"He's French," the woman finally said. Ruth's expression loosened. That's all? she thought.

"Why would that worry me?" Ruth asked in confusion. Something didn't seem right. Her aunts looked as if they were holding something back and Ruth had just began to feel a little uncomfortable about what she had agreed to.