Nothing could have surprised Alexander McKee more than to see Wyatt leading his ragtag group up the forest path so soon after he had left them…particularly after the rough storm of the previous night. Wet, muddy and cold…and all in piss poor moods…the three friends slumped their way into the village looking more than a little worse for wear. Colonel McKee did not waste any time; he quickly ordered blankets and provisions as he ushered them over to a fire where they could both warm and dry themselves.
"My heavens," he exclaimed as he passed a mug of coffee to Wyatt "I must say, young man, I held out very little hope of ever seeing you again. This is absolutely extraordinary. However did you manage it?"
Wyatt hemmed and hawed, not comfortable discussing his heroics in the best of circumstances, but even less so when everything had gone to absolute crap. He cast an uncomfortable glance towards Lucy and Rufus, both of whom were huddled underneath their respective blankets nursing their own mugs of coffee, and shrugged, "It wasn't easy, I'll tell you that."
Alexander McKee took in Wyatt's French uniform and bloodied visage "Seems you are far more resourceful than I gave you credit for…and a Quaker, at that."
"A what?" Rufus nearly barked out in laughter, before Wyatt silenced him with a stern glare.
"Really," Wyatt dismissed, still glaring at an amused Rufus, "it was just a matter of blending in and trying to find these two so we could get the hell out of there."
"But to have moved about the fort freely, without garnering any suspicion…you must speak some French?" Colonel McKee asked as he offered them all a bit of fried beef.
Wyatt shrugged, "No…that's Lucy. I just tried to keep my mouth shut and tried not to draw any unwanted attention to myself.
"You speak French, my dear?" Colonel McKee asked pleasantly as he handed her a slice of frybread. She took it gratefully and nodded. "Well, that explains why you weren't immediately sold off to some tribe. You should consider yourself very lucky, you know." Colonel McKee observed to Wyatt as he took a place next to him, "These abduction cases rarely turn out well…my own mother's family you know, was taken by the French and handed off to the Indians…she ended up being raised by the tribe…but that was after her own parents were slaughtered practically in front of her." He frowned thoughtfully after taking a drink of coffee, muttering almost to himself, "She told me just before she died that she had to sit and watch them clean and dry the scalps of her family…could easily distinguish her mother and father's hair." He shuddered at the memory, "Horrific business."
Rufus gaped at him, the frybread he had been eating suspended halfway between his open mouth and his lap as he began looking around him nervously, half-expecting, it seemed, to be tomahawked and scalped at any moment. Lucy, too, appeared to have lost her appetite, her own piece of frybread lying forgotten by her side. Instead of cowering away, however, she leaned forward in awe, staring at the British officer with a new fascination.
"You're…you're Alexander McKee, aren't you?" Lucy gasped in disbelief.
The Colonel looked at her in confusion and surprise, "I'm terribly sorry, have we met before?"
Embarrassed, Lucy shook her head, "No…I…I just…I just…" she cast a nervous glance towards Wyatt who was shifting uncomfortably, "I…I've heard of your father," she explained. "he's a famous Indian agent himself, isn't he?" she asked.
Clearly impressed…or at least fairly flattered that she knew of him, Colonel McKee smiled broadly, nodding enthusiastically as he answered, "Yes, indeed…my father established great relations with the Indians. In fact, my step-mother is the daughter of Pride Opessa, the great chief who…
"Yes…signed the treaty with William Penn in 1701." Lucy exclaimed, nodding excitedly. "He really tried to make Pennsylvania the "last delightful asylum" for Native Americans. It's a shame that his steward didn't uphold many of the statutes he put forth."
Colonel McKee marveled at her knowledge, "I say, you certainly seem to know more about this business than I do." He chuckled, "Your parents must have done much to forward your education, to be so well versed in these complex and, dare I say it…ugly matters."
"Yes." Lucy responded with a self-conscious flush, "my…my mother was very strict when it came to my education."
"I see." Colonel McKee replied with a smile, "Mothers are like that, you know? My step-mother
taught me everything there was to know about the Shawnee, the language, the culture…I owe my own success to her guidance and connections." He chuckled, "And my father too…he was quite the fur trader. I learned a bit of the trade, myself…but I daresay my friends are a bit more practiced than I."
"Your friends?" Lucy asked.
"George Croghan, William Trent…and John Fraser…you'll be meeting him later this morning. I believe he can be of some assistance to you and your husband, here."
Wyatt, who had been taking a long draught of coffee, choked on his drink immediately, coughing and sputtering all over a highly-amused Rufus. Ignoring him, Wyatt turned a panicked eye towards Lucy who was looking just as mortified as he was. "Um…uh…" Wyatt stammered uncomfortably, "We're…I mean…I'm….I'm…"
"He's…uh…my brother." Lucy answered for him, her cheeks flushing furiously.
"Oh is that so?" Colonel McKee replied, looking both embarrassed and astonished, "I'm sorry…I…just assumed…very little family resemblance, after all." He chuckled nervously, "Well, in that case, I think you'd be delighted to know, Miss that these parts are not without eligible bachelors." He leaned forward towards her and whispered clandestinely, "My aide de camp is a fine, upstanding young man."
"I'm….I'm sure he is." Lucy replied awkwardly as she cast sideways glance towards Wyatt even though he refused to even look in her direction. In an attempt to change the subject, she pressed, "What…um…kind of assistance could your friend offer us?"
Alexander McKee eyed the two of them curiously before offering her a genuine smile, "Well, as I was telling your brother yesterday," he said with a nod towards Wyatt, "my dear friend John Fraser is always in need of extra help, particularly around the harvest. I'm sure he can set you up with a place to live for the time being…but my advice still stands, "he said seriously to Wyatt, "you'd be wise to seek shelter at Fort Cumberland as soon as you are able. After what you told me yesterday, I have no doubt that the Governor will want to act quickly. War will be upon us soon…you mark my words."
Lucy's eyes darted up in alarm but Wyatt, not seeing her, scoffed, "Too bad they can't do something now...they could practically walk right into Fort Duquesne with that wall down."
"What do you mean?" Colonel McKee asked, suddenly interested.
"Well," Wyatt explained with a shrug, "in order to get Lucy out, I needed a distraction…so I set the fort on fire. From what I could see last night, a whole section of the wall has collapsed."
"Interesting." mumbled the British officer thoughtfully, "very interesting, indeed."
But Lucy didn't think it was interesting…a fact she made known the minute they began their four-mile trek to John Fraser's home. "What were you thinking, telling him that?" Lucy hissed at Wyatt as she ran to catch up with him.
"What?" Wyatt answered defensively, stopping dead in his tracks looking both offended and uncomfortable. "I never told him we were…" he stammered awkwardly, "ya know...I never said…that you and I were…"
"No…not…not that." Lucy interrupted him self-consciously, dipping her head down to hide the flush that was spreading on her cheeks.
"Oh…" Wyatt grunted, as he turned to follow the group again. "Well…what…
"I mean about the wall!" she spat out in exasperation, chasing after him again, "Wyatt, the British aren't supposed to capture Fort Duquesne until 1758 and then… "
"So they get it a few years earlier…what difference does it make?" Wyatt spat out grumpily, annoyed that she was giving him such a hard time.
"It could make a huge difference." she cried passionately as Wyatt rolled his eyes, "Need I remind you that all it took to completely erase my sister from history was Flynn saving the Hindenburg?"
"What do you want me to do, Lucy? Huh?" Wyatt groaned in exasperation. "Would you rather I had left you in that damn fort with those French assholes? Is that it?"
"I didn't say that." Lucy answered irritably, "I just think we need to be a little more careful about changing history since we're…I mean, obviously, we've been here longer than we should have been, anyway…but still, we should try not to change anything…if we can help it." she added, meeting Wyatt's glare with a look of grim determination.
Wyatt stared back at her for a few moments before shaking his head in frustration and stalking away. He had been punched, kicked, stabbed and now he was being lectured that his rescue operation had probably screwed up history. Was it too damn much to ask for a little gratitude?
"What's the matter with you?" Rufus asked, frowning at a brooding Wyatt.
"Nothing's the matter with me." Wyatt spat out, quickly glancing over his shoulder at Lucy who was following along behind looking just as angry as he was.
Seeing this, Rufus nodded knowingly, "You're still mad she stabbed you, huh?" Wyatt huffed out a breath, but didn't answer, so Rufus cleared his throat and tentatively continued, "You know…when she thought those French soldiers had killed you," he let out a short laugh, "I thought she was going to kill them." Wyatt rolled his eyes, obviously not taking him seriously, but Rufus maintained, "I mean it, she went absolutely bat shit crazy when she thought you were dead."
"So?" Wyatt shrugged.
"So…" Rufus urged, "I'm saying you should probably cut her some slack. I had it pretty easy in that place…I was locked away…those soldiers didn't bother me. But Lucy…Wyatt…I know you didn't like her hanging around with that French soldier, but if he hadn't been looking out for her…I…I don't even want to think what could have happened to her in there."
Wyatt swallowed hard remembering, with a pang of guilt, how, when he had finally made it into the fort, he had found her, completely surrounded by lecherous assholes who didn't know a damn thing about personal space. He had hardly recognized her then, he had never seen her looking so defeated and broken down…
But Rufus was right…she had her French boyfriend watching out for her…so much so that he couldn't even get near enough to talk to her. Given her vulnerable position, he should've been counting his lucky stars that someone had cared enough to protect her when he couldn't…. but no matter how much he reminded himself of that fact, he could not forget the way she had passed him over in favor of that damn French soldier…hell, even when they were trying to escape it was him she was most concerned about.
If it had been the other way around, Wyatt thought bitterly, he would have never gotten chummy with any of the assholes who had shot at her. He turned around to glance at her once more only to find that she was now chatting idly with Colonel McKee's "fine and upstanding" young aide.
Dammit.
Brooding, Wyatt followed right behind Alexander McKee who led them on down a well-worn path through the woods, to where the home of his friend, John Fraser, lay just beyond the next ridge. Situated near a clear running stream, the two-story cabin was relatively large, sitting on several acres of land, most of which contained fields of corn ready to be harvested and surrounded by a large split rail fence. They hadn't even made it through the gate before a rugged frontiersman with a thick Scottish accent, made his way out to greet them.
"Glad tae meet ye." he said as Colonel McKee made the necessary introductions. He warmly shook each other their hands. "Any friend of Alexander's, is a friend of mine. Though you all look to be on the right side of miserable if I'm being perfectly honest." he added as he eyed their muddy appearances and torn clothes. "I daresay you've seen better days."
"I was hoping you might be of some help to them, John." Colonel McKee replied. "I'm afraid they have found themselves on the wrong side of the French…"
"I cae see that." he chuckled, noting Wyatt's muddy French uniform, "didn't care for Army life, I see?"
Wyatt looked down at his clothes, somewhat confused, before shaking his head in realization, "Oh no…I mean…I'm not…I just…"
"I'm afraid the French abducted his…um…sister and manservant, John…nearly killed him in the process, from what I understand." Colonel McKee said with a meaningful nod.
At that, John Fraser's jaw tensed, "Is that so?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Yes, but as you see…he managed to infiltrate their ranks and rescue them from Duquesne… but more importantly, I'm told he managed to do some considerable damage to the fort's defenses…burned down an entire wall."
"You don't say?" John Fraser replied, clearly impressed. "Well, that earns you a meal at any rate. Would you stay for supper?"
"Supper would be much appreciated, I think…and perhaps maybe a wash and a change of clothes." Colonel McKee replied jovially, "However, I was hoping you might be able to offer them a place to stay until they are able to find safe passage home…or at least until they can travel onward to Fort Cumberland." Colonel McKee supplied.
"I'd not advise traveling that far so close to the frost." John Fraser said with a shake of his head, "and definitely not without protection." he said more solemnly with a nod towards Lucy "It'd be a fair shame to save this lass only to have her taken again."
Wyatt startled at that, turning instinctively to Lucy who didn't seem at all taken aback by the inference that she, especially, would be in danger if they did try to make the trek to Fort Cumberland. In fact, she almost looked like she fully understood the meaning behind the warning…and while Wyatt understood that she was vulnerable, he didn't quite understand why he would assume Wyatt's presence wouldn't be enough to keep her safe…or why Lucy would apparently agree with him.
Did he think he wasn't capable since the French had already taken off with her? Is that what Lucy thought? That he couldn't protect her?
Wyatt inwardly bristled at the thought that he would ever…it wasn't like he meant for her to get taken…but that was just it…she had. He had lost her…and it was only by the greatest of miracles that she wasn't lost to him forever like Jessica was.
Not that she was anything like Jessica, he reminded himself.
John Fraser frowned at the three of them, "Well, I don't take to trusting folks so easily, especially these days…but as you are clearly no great friend of the French and come upon the recommendation of my good friend here, I think I might be able to set you up in a place. Tell me," he asked Wyatt, "how good are you at hunting game?"
"I'm pretty handy with a gun, if that's what you mean." Wyatt answered with a shrug.
In answer, John Fraser gave a quick nod before asking, "And farming? What kind of experience do you have with that?"
"I used to help my grandfather on his ranch." Wyatt offered.
"Is that so?" John Fraser exclaimed in astonishment. "A cattle ranch?" he asked further prompting Wyatt to nod slowly, his eyes darting to Lucy in hopes that he didn't just step into something in terms of historical impossibilities…but from the look of franticness in her eyes, he was guessing he had. He was about to switch gears in an attempt to bypass his historical faux pas when John Fraser pressed further, "A New York lad, then?"
Wyatt barked out a laugh and shook his head in the negative, but Lucy quickly jumped in, shooting Wyatt a stern glance as she answered shakily, "Yes…from…from Montauk."
"Beautiful country." Colonel McKee mused thoughtfully, "It's a shame our friend Mr. Trent isn't here to meet you, he hails from New Jersey, you know, and spent a good deal of time in New York as a boy. He would've enjoyed reminiscing with you all."
Lucy gave a nervous chuckle and shot an incredulous looking Wyatt a furtive glance before John Fraser clapped his hands together and announced, "Well then, Matthew," he said to Colonel McKee's aide, "will you go inform my man to draw up a few baths while we get a move on? There's a good lad." He said motioned for the rest of the group to follow him, "I'm sure you'll be wanting to see the house before you decide you want to take it on." Mind, the place is a wee bit run down, but you look like you don't look like a lad who's afraid of a bit of hard work."
"No, sir." Wyatt answered promptly.
Nodding at his response, John Fraser ushered them through his gates and down a narrow lane through his open fields, "It's the next farm over…I just acquired the land from a good friend of mine. He decided he'd rather go out a'warring than dig around in the fields all day…. can't say I blame him" he added with a wry smile. "It's devilishly hard work." He turned to Wyatt sizing him up, "But I daresay you'll be up to the task…particularly with your experience. Of course, out here, you don't have those stunning ocean views that you're used to in New York, but it's beautiful country, this." he added as he pointed out the sweeping view of the winding Monongahela far below them.
The view was undeniably beautiful. Up on a hill, as they were, overlooking a wide and glittering creek that cut through the hills; a tributary of the mighty Monogahela that wound like a large silver snake in the distance amid the red-gold hues of autumn leaves. Wyatt, however, could not comment further on how it compared to his grandfather's "ranch"…because the ranch he knew sure as hell didn't have ocean views….something he was quick to point out to Lucy the moment John Fraser and Colonel McKee were out of earshot.
"New York?" he hissed as they fell into step after Colonel McKee and John Fraser, "My grandfather is probably rolling around in his grave right now. Whoever heard of a damn cattle ranch in New York?"
"Actually," Lucy said with an indignant huff, "The oldest operating cattle ranch in the United States is in New York…it's been around since 1648 on Long Island, "she turned to give him a reproving glare, "besides, I had to say something before you blurted out something about being from Texas…that would have been very bad seeing as it doesn't even exist yet."
"I wasn't going to say I was from Texas." Wyatt snapped back, his anger and frustration growing as she cast him a doubtful glare, "I wasn't!" Wyatt maintained…but he knew Lucy knew he was lying.
The truth was, the New York comment had seemed so damn ridiculous and so offensive to his Texas pride, it had absolutely superseded any logical mandate that he had to keep up with some nonsense historical backstory. It wasn't like he didn't know better, he thought ruefully. He may have not been an historian, but he, just like every other proud Texas knew that Texas didn't become a state until 1836. Before that, he knew it had passed between the Spanish, the French and the Mexicans…but he had no idea when or how…or what the hell they even called it…but no way was he going to give Lucy that satisfaction.
Not when she had been so damn testy all morning.
"Besides you're one to talk," he spat out, "what was all that about Alexander McKee back there?" Wyatt shook his head incredulously, "It was like you were reading off his entire biography."
Lucy gaped at him indignantly, "I was just…he's a…" she huffed out a breath, "don't change the subject." she replied irritably. "I was just trying to help…what difference does it make anyway? It's not like you're actually from New York."
"And you two aren't actually brother and sister…or married for that matter." Rufus piped up behind them, "but you sure as hell are acting like an old married couple right now."
If anything could get the two of them to stop arguing and retreat to their respective corners, it was that comment…something that…again…highly amused Rufus. Lucy absolutely flushed and fell into step behind the smirking time machine pilot, while Wyatt lengthened his stride until he found himself walking alongside Colonel McKee and John Fraser who were chatting animatedly about the improvements he had made to his newly gained property.
Wyatt could not have cared less about water pumps or corn harvests, but since he wanted nothing to do with Lucy or Rufus at the moment, he pretended to be interested. Both men seemed to be grateful for his company, including him in their conversation, asking his opinion on the placement of new fields and stables. John Fraser seemed to be a likeable enough guy, and while Wyatt knew nothing about it apart from what Colonel McKee had told him, as he listened to the two of them talking, he couldn't help but feel that out of every possible person they could have possibly run into in all of this 18th century wilderness, they had lucked out in finding this one. Not only was he a successful tradesman and courageous frontiersman, he was also apparently a skilled gunsmith…something that immediately drew Wyatt's attention.
"Really? You make your own guns?"
"Aye" came John Fraser's ready response, "you can never be too careful in these parts…particularly with the French on your doorstep." he added with a hint of bitterness in his voice. "I make my own tools too, as a matter of fact…don't want to have to rely on French traders for my goods." Wyatt could hardly blame him – he had been driven off of his land, after all…and forced to resettle here. Just knowing that they had an arsenal of weapons at their disposal in case they needed to defend themselves was enough to make Wyatt breathe out a sigh of relief…but there was something else about that revelation that excited him. If John Fraser was making his own guns and tools then that had to mean…
"So that means…I mean…I guess that means you have a forge?" Wyatt asked almost incredulously, hardly believing their luck.
"Well, certainly." John Fraser answered with a nod. "I can't very well make guns if I don't have a place to tinker them out, now can I?"
Wyatt stopped dead in his tracks, looking back towards Rufus, as both John Fraser and Colonel McKee halted beside him in surprise. "Do you think you could…I mean, would it be possible or…you see….Rufus…"
"What about me?" the time travelling pilot asked as he reached the chatting group of men.
"He has a forge." Wyatt explained with a meaningful look. "I thought maybe you'd want to learn….I mean, if Mr. Fraser, here is willing to teach you."
"To be a gunsmith?" John Fraser asked in confusion.
"No…um…to use a forge." Rufus answered with a breathy laugh. At John Fraser's continued confused expression, Rufus stammered, "I…it's just that I've been…um…trying to develop my skill set…" he looked to Wyatt and an approaching Lucy for help but they looked about as lost for words as he was. Looking back to John Fraser awkwardly, Rufus shrugged as he made a stab at an explanation, "you know…so I can be more useful to these white folks here."
Wyatt had to bite back a bit of a laugh as John Fraser nodded, seemingly impressed, "Ambitious, willing to learn…I like a man who doesn't limit himself. You remind me a good deal of my man, Thomas…he's brilliant…smart as whip…you two should work well together. I'll introduce you and he can show you the ropes." he promised as he led them on down the narrow country road that cut through his property. Fields stretched out wide to the left of them, all of them full and ready for harvesting; to the right, and endless array of red and gold leaves stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was absolutely beautiful and if they hadn't been completely out of place in this century, Wyatt thought, it wouldn't have been a bad place to settle down.
They walked until they reached a small hill where a ramshackle cabin stood defiantly against a large tree that had toppled over and wedged itself into its rustic shingled roof. "She's a sturdy house, that." John Fraser said with a nod, "I daresay you're up to the task of fixing the place up and if you're willing to help me out with my trades and my crops, I'd be most happy to have you. At any rate, it'll do me a favor…I won't have to fix this place up myself." He added good-naturedly.
"We'd be happy to stay." Wyatt said with a determined nod, casting a quick glance towards a anxious looking Lucy and Rufus.
"Alright then, well you lot have a good look around, get familiar with the place. I'm going to show the Colonel the plans for my new water pump. We'll be back directly."
Once they were well out of earshot, Wyatt turned to Lucy and Rufus with a shrug, "It's not much…but it's a hell of a lot better than sleeping outside."
They were standing just apart from him staring at the ramshackle cabin. The house…if one could call it that, was situated nicely, with a garden in the back, a few goats and chickens running about the place and a root cellar…but it was hardly what anyone would deem "up to code".
In fact, it was downright dilapidated.
Most of the windows were broken, the door was hanging off of its hinges and of course, the tree through the roof was the proverbial nail in the coffin in terms of making this place almost completely uninhabitable. But beggars could not be choosers and Wyatt, more used to rough condition than the other two, quickly reminded them of that fact. "Look, you two…I get it…it needs work…"
"Work?" Rufus asked him incredulously, "No. No. The faulty light switch in my apartment? That needs work. This? This is what you call condemned. How the hell are we supposed to live in this?"
"We fix it up." Wyatt spat out in exasperation. "I'm sure he's got tools…you heard him, he has a forge…"
Rufus shook his head, "You'd be better off burning this place to the ground and just building a brand new one…look at that damn tree!"
"It's not that bad, Rufus." Wyatt maintained, "Look, he said as he stepped into the house, "It's barely poked a hole in the ceiling. We just need to remove the tree, patch the hole and fix the door…"
"Yeah and what about the windows?" Rufus barked out. "You do realize we're living in the 18th century, right? It could take months before you can get glass in these things…"
"So we use the shutters until we can get some glass." Wyatt snapped back, but Rufus was looking around the cabin with disgust. Not only was it covered in dirt and grime, but it was filled with bird feces, nests and the skeletons of many small animals.
"This is gonna need a hell of a lot of Lysol." Rufus quipped as he picked up a dusty pot from off the floor, revealing a litany of roaches scurrying off to find a new place to hide. Dropping the pot with a clang, Rufus bolted out of the door, muttering about "finding a damn broom and some bug spray" leaving Wyatt looking towards a pensive Lucy who was slowly making her way around the cabin, clutching her shawl tightly around her shoulders.
"It'll be fine." Wyatt assured her roughly, "You'll see…it's not that bad. And look, there's already some furniture in here." he said as he picked up a dusty old chair that had toppled over, "It just needs a little sprucing up."
Still not saying a word, Lucy meandered her way outside and part way down the hill, sighing as she looked out at the winding Monongahela far in the distance. Wyatt followed after her, pointing out the garden, the goats and the chickens, the abundance of firewood…really anything to convince her that this place could be a suitable home, finding himself oddly anxious for her approval….and irritated as hell that she and Rufus both seemed, again, to be showing so much ingratitude. When she still didn't answer him, Wyatt looked around helplessly, in search of anything else that might be used as a selling point when his eyes fell on a small green shrub near the base of a large elm tree that Lucy was standing near. Smirking, he stooped down and picked off a stem, sniffing it before handing it over to her, "Look," he said with a nod, "there's even mint."
Lucy turned to face him suddenly, the memory of that conversation which now seemed so long ago, playing through her mind. Taking the sprig of leaves from him, she held it underneath her nose, breathing in the sweet, fresh scent, a slight smile playing on her lips which made Wyatt breathe out a sigh of relief.
That is until Lucy suddenly broke down in a fit of tears.
Frustrated beyond belief now, Wyatt threw up his hands, "I don't know what the hell you and Rufus expect" he shouted, "we're in the middle of nowhere…out in the damn wilderness, two hundred and sixty damn years before any of us were even born! I'm doing the best I can, okay?"
He was about to storm off when he heard Lucy's small voice, quavering with emotion, "That's not why I'm…" she sniffed, before hiccupping, "It's perfect."
"What?" Wyatt barked out, turning to her incredulously.
"The house…it's perfect." Lucy said as more tears spilled onto her cheeks. "I love it."
Wyatt stared back at her completely confused, "If you love it," he asked dubiously, "then why the hell are you crying?"
"I don't know." Lucy shrugged as her bottom lip quivered. "I guess, I just…I can't believe any of this is real. Just a few hours ago I thought I had lost everything." she sobbed lightly as she explained through a voice thick with emotion, "A chance to get back home, Rufus…you…" Her tears came heavier after that, so much so that she had her face completely buried in her hands as Wyatt made his way back over towards her, almost begrudgingly wrapping her up in his arms as she sobbed into his shoulder, "I never thought I'd see either one of you ever again…"
Wyatt sighed heavily, feeling like a complete ass for even thinking that Lucy didn't give a damn. He may have only known her for a few months, but he knew her well enough to know that out of all of them, she was the one who probably cared the most – not just about history or these missions…but about the team…about him and Rufus. He tightened his grip on her as his own raw emotions threatened to give way, "Well, if it makes you feel any better…I thought I had lost you both too…" he admitted ruefully.
He pulled away from her slightly, wanting to give her a reassuring smile, but instead, his expression dropped into a horrified grimace. Her face, which had been covered in dirt, was now streaked with mud as she wiped away at her tears, allowing him to see for the first time, the outlines of a bruise along her cheek bone. Cupping her face in the palm of his hand, he gently turned her face to examine it more closely, "Who did this to you?" he gritted out angrily.
Flushing violently, Lucy tugged her chin out of his hand, "It doesn't matter…"
"The hell it doesn't, Lucy." Wyatt hissed. "Who hit you?"
"Who do you think?" Lucy gasped out through her tears, "When they tried to take off with me and Rufus…after they…after you…I mean, when I thought…"her lip trembled violently, not allowing her to get the words out.
Wyatt ghosted his fingers over her cheek, remembering what Rufus had said about Lucy's reaction to his apparent death. At the time, he thought Rufus was just trying to make him feel better…but now, seeing this he knew she must have put up one hell of a fight. While he felt a tug of gratitude towards her, the sight of that bruise filled him with an anger he wasn't quite prepared for. "Which one of them did this?" Wyatt gritted out angrily.
"Wyatt…"
"Which one?"
"The same one who shot you, okay?" Lucy relented with a sigh, "But it's okay…"
"No it's not okay, Lucy." Wyatt fumed, "What else did that sonofabitch do to you?" he gritted out angrily.
Lucy stared up at him, her big brown eyes brimmed with tears, "Nothing." she said softly, shaking her head slightly. "Not anything you didn't see for yourself, anyway." She sighed as she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, "I gave him a scar of his own…and with any luck a big bruise to go along with it when I was trying to escape the fort…"
Suddenly filled with guilt over…pretty much everything she had been through the past few days…Wyatt pulled her close again; hugging her to him in an attempt to make up for all the hell she had experienced when he was helpless to do anything to assist her. "I'm sorry, Lucy." He sighed, "I didn't mean to make things worse…I was just trying to get you the hell out of there."
"I know.'" she whimpered out through her tears. "I just wish I would've known it was you." She let out a mirthless chuckle, "It would've saved us both a lot of trouble." He couldn't help but agree with her there. How much smoother would that rescue had gone had he been able to talk to her? "Wyatt?" Lucy's muffled voice sounded from his shoulder, "I…I meant it…back there…I…I didn't mean to stab you." she said quietly, "If I had known…I mean, if I thought it was you I would never have…"
Wyatt sighed heavily, "It's alright, Lucy."
"No, it's not alright." she maintained, pulling herself away, "What if I hadn't stabbed your arm? What if I had actually hurt you…"
"You don't think that hurt?" Wyatt asked her incredulously, though a teasing smile played on his lips.
"You know what I mean," Lucy said with a reproving glare, "I could have killed you Wyatt."
"Come on, Lucy," Wyatt urged playfully. "give me a little credit. I mean, I survived a shot to the head, didn't I?"
Lucy's eyes darted to the scar along his temple, her fingers brushing lightly over the wound, sending a shiver down Wyatt's spine, causing him to tighten the hold he had on her waist. "You almost died." she trembled out, "that's not anything to joke about, Wyatt."
"Lucy…" Wyatt sighed, but she was crying again. Pulling her in for another hug, Wyatt tried to assure her, "It barely broke the skin…"
Lucy, however, just gripped onto him tighter, sobbing into his neck, "I'm so glad you aren't dead." she gasped out in a trembling voice.
"That makes two of us, ma'am" Wyatt muttered with a smirk. As he stood there, holding her, rubbing her back, all the anger and frustration he had been feeling earlier melted away until he was sorry he had ever been angry with her to begin with. He didn't understand why she seemed to have this effect on him, why her tears reduced him to putty in her hands. If it had been Rufus who had stabbed him, for example, he would have told him to go to hell and moved on. But with Lucy…well, with Lucy things were different…even though technically, she was the same to him as Rufus was…just a teammate, a friend…someone who would work by his side for a little while, until the next mission would inevitably call him away to some other location…some other team.
And damn it all if that thought hadn't tugged at his heartstrings again. He had been so ready to give up this team, this mission, when they first arrived here…but the thought of trusting anyone else to their care, even someone he trusted as much as Dave Baumgardner, was unthinkable…and it made Wyatt grip Lucy just a little bit tighter.
He couldn't. He knew he couldn't…but someday this all would be over…and what then?
But that was just it…what if there wasn't another mission…another team? What if this was it? Stranded here, as they were, they could very well be stuck here for the rest of their lives…just three friends trying to survive in a century in which they didn't belong.
But he didn't want to think about that.
Instead, Wyatt gave Lucy one final reassuring squeeze as she continued to hiccup little sobs into his shoulder. Hating to see her work herself into such a frenzy over nothing more than a little graze, (even though he knew it was probably more of a culmination of every shitty thing that had happened to them since that landed in this century) Wyatt turned his head and pressed a kiss to her temple in an attempt to give her a final assurance that everything would be okay. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to do under the circumstances, but the moment his lips touched her skin, he knew he had gone one step too far.
He had held Lucy's hand, hugged her…hell, he had even slept next to her…but he had never…never kissed her before….and even though this could hardly count as a kiss, the tension that immediately sprung up between them would say otherwise. Lucy, who had been sobbing gently into his neck, had gone stock still, hardly even breathing as they stood there together in the shadow of the elm tree. He too, froze…not knowing what the hell to do, not wanting to pull away and deal with the inevitable awkwardness that was sure to follow…so he just stood there…with his damn lips stuck to her head like a complete idiot.
Wyatt was inwardly kicking himself when Lucy slowly backed away from him, her stunned yet curious expression causing his ready apology to get lost somewhere in the restrictive confines of his throat. He worked his jaw open and closed, but no words would come. Her eyes, still shimmering with tears, darted over his face, narrowed in concern or confusion…Wyatt wasn't sure which. Possibly both…since right now he was sure he looked like a fish out of water, stupidly opening and closing his mouth in the hopes that something sensible might just tumble out of it. His fingers danced nervously along her torso, striking Wyatt almost violently with the realization that he was still holding on to her….and even though he knew he should step away, re-establishing a safe distance between them…he couldn't seem to move.
And Lucy didn't seem to mind.
Her fingers tentatively inched their way from where her hands had fallen on his biceps back to his shoulders, each delicate touch sending shivers down Wyatt's spine as his gaze drifted away from the endless abyss of her caramel colored eyes to the inviting pink of her gently parted lips. Lucy swayed towards him, ever so slightly, and he felt his brain go a little fuzzy. As he leaned forward to close the small bit of distance left between them, he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that kissing Lucy would be a very bad thing…though for the life of him, he couldn't quite remember why.
That is until the unwelcome sound of laughter, followed by the abrupt halt of two pairs of footsteps brought him back to his senses and the horrifying recollection that Lucy was supposed to be his sister.
Startling away from her, Wyatt turned to find Alexander McKee and John Fraser resuming their steady march towards the small little hut, calling out their apologies as they came, "So sorry…we didn't mean to…uh…interrupt." Colonel McKee offered gallantly with a bow towards Lucy who had, by now, retreated all the way back to the front of the house, looking absolutely mortified.
Wyatt inwardly groaned as he stammered out an attempt at an explanation, "I was just…uh…she was crying…so I was…I was just…"
"No need to explain." John Fraser said with a reassuring smile, though Wyatt felt far from reassured, "you've all been through a very trying ordeal…but it's nothing that can't be helped by a wee bit of supper and a good wash. Come along then," he said as he motioned for them to follow him, "let's uh…get you settled, shall we?"
Though Colonel McKee and John Fraser tried to engage both Lucy and Wyatt in conversation, neither one seemed much inclined to talk, and so an awkward silence prevailed all the way down a winding path until they reached John Fraser's home. From the little they had seen of it earlier, at a distance, it appeared to be a large, rustic cabin…upon closer inspection however, it unequivocally proved that though John Fraser was, by all rights, an outdoorsman, he was not opposed to the finer things in life. The ornate and solid front door opened to a large, high ceilinged foyer flanked by a sitting room and a stately dining room on either side. The large staircase and its beautifully carved bannister were "the products of artisans from Philadelphia", he informed them, "highly recommended by my friend George Croghan." he added, with a nod.
As John Fraser's well-dressed wife came forth to meet them, Lucy and Wyatt shifted uncomfortably, feeling suddenly self-conscious about their wild appearance. Apart from being absolutely coated in mud, leaves and dirt, both of their clothes had suffered rips in several places, something Mrs. Fraser was quick to point out. "I'm afraid these will be very difficult to mend, though you are welcome to try." she added with a kind smile to Lucy.
"Me?" Lucy asked blankly, "Oh…no…I'm…I'm no seamstress. I can't even thread a needle."
Mrs. Fraser and her housekeeper exchanged bewildered looks, before she nodded to her husband, "Well then, we'll just have to find you something more suitable to wear, won't we?"
"Already on it, my love." John Fraser said with a bow to his wife. "I'll send Margaret to fetch a change of clothes for our new friends here."
Handing Lucy off to his wife and their housekeeper, John Fraser showed Wyatt into his own personal washroom, which contained a large wooden tub already filled with steaming water, a small shaving table with a mirror and large fireplace. It looked nothing like any bathroom Wyatt had ever seen before…and as he walked over to the open shaving kit and picked up the straight razor, he was pretty damn sure this was going to be one hell of a learning experience for him.
More than an hour later he emerged, washed, clean-shaven (though not without a few nicks) and in a new set of functional clothes, feeling better than he had in days. John Fraser and Colonel McKee, who had been conversing quietly together in the corner, startled at his changed appearance, both of them remarking, in their good-natured ways, that he now "almost" looked like a gentleman. Wyatt wasn't quite sure whether that was meant to be a compliment or a criticism, so he just shrugged it off as best he could and set to pacing the sitting room waiting for Lucy…trying not to be bothered by the fact that Colonel McKee's aide seemed to be doing the same thing.
Wyatt had no idea how many minutes passed by before one of John Fraser's servants opened the door to the sitting room to announce the arrival of the ladies. John Fraser's wife entered first, greeted warmly by her husband with a bow and a kiss on the hand which she returned with a gentle peck on the cheek. The housekeeper entered next, looking behind her and urging, Wyatt could only assume, Lucy along into the sitting room…and while Wyatt had been anxious for her arrival only minutes before, he now found himself dreading it…as all eyes seemed to be fixed on him as he waited for her to emerge through the double doors.
Even caked in dirt, Lucy was pretty…but it had been so long since he had seen her not covered in mud and leaves, that the vision of her walking through the double doors of the sitting room, wearing a pretty blue gown with her hair clean, dressed and coming down in neat ringlets had him almost at a complete loss for words.
"Aren't you just lovely?" Colonel McKee exclaimed as he offered her a bow and a kiss on the hand.
Lucy kept her face down and averted away from all the attention, particularly that of Wyatt who, after being goaded by John Fraser to comment on her appearance, stammered out, "You…um…you look really nice." Lucy thanked him quietly, still looking as self-conscious as she had outside of the cabin and Wyatt was content to just let her be…except that Colonel McKee and John Fraser kept looking at him…like they were waiting for him to do something else. Wyatt had no damn idea what else he was supposed to do until Colonel McKee's aide stepped forward, bowed to Lucy and kissed her hand. Not wanting to be one-upped by some brown-nosing jackass, Wyatt awkwardly grabbed her other hand, kissed it and quickly dropped it again…something that seemed to satisfy the expectations of the other men in the room as they nodded at him pleasantly and returned to their own conversations.
He had every intention of stepping away from her, especially now that Colonel McKee and John Fraser were no longer staring him down, when Lucy mumbled quietly, "You shaved?"
"Huh?" Wyatt startled, "Oh yeah…" he muttered diffidently as he rubbed at his chin, "it's not the…what?" he asked as Lucy quirked her brow at him.
"You're…you're…here…" she said with a sigh, pulling out a handkerchief from a deep pocket in her skirt, "you're bleeding." she explained as she began dabbing away at the nicks peppered along his cheek and chin.
He breathed out in exasperation as she swabbed at his face, particularly when he noticed that once again, he and Lucy were becoming the center of attention. Reaching up he placed a gentle hand over hers, stilling her work and directing her focus away from his many blemishes. As their eyes met, he found himself stumbling over his words, feeling suddenly self-conscious, "I…I can…I can do that."
"Oh…right." Lucy replied with a flush as she too noticed the many eyes directed towards them. "Sorry." she muttered, handing him her handkerchief.
As Wyatt moved away to the mirror to take care of his bleeding face, Colonel McKee approached Lucy, waving for his aide to join him, "She certainly is a vision, don't you think so Matthew? And quite the scholar…do you know she knows more about the 1701 treaty than I do?"
"Oh it's…really…nothing." Lucy stammered, "I just…"
"Nonsense." Colonel McKee dismissed, "Any man would be lucky to have a woman like you, my dear." he added with a broad smile, bowing away to allow Matthew a chance to compliment her himself. Positioning himself next to a now annoyed Wyatt, Colonel McKee observed, "They'd make a fine pair don't you think?"
No…Wyatt didn't think, but he said nothing.
"He attended Harvard, you know? One of the best in his year…he has a bright future ahead of him." Colonel McKee nodded meaningfully to Wyatt as he continued, "All he lacks is marriage to a good woman."
Wyatt huffed out an exasperated breath, "And let me guess, you think that woman is Lucy?"
"Well…she certainly has some desirable qualities." Colonel McKee said with a broad smile, "Unless, of course, there's a reason she might not want to leave the care of her…brother and establish a home of her own?"
Wyatt shifted uncomfortably under Colonel McKee's watchful eye. Yes, there was a damn good reason that Lucy shouldn't get married off by some colonial matchmaker…she didn't belong here. None of them did. But he couldn't very tell them that. Instead, he watched Lucy laughing lightly as Colonel McKee's aide chatted her up, and then followed right behind them as he led her into the dining room…and then glowered at them all through dinner as he sat next to her regaling her with some damn story about his old college days.
By the end of dinner, Wyatt was in a horrible mood…one that did not improve with the removal of Matthew the Harvard graduate asshole, who - by some miracle, got sent off to run some menial errand for Alexander McKee. Lucy too, and the rest of the women also removed themselves from the dining room, leaving only Wyatt, John Fraser and Alexander McKee to cap off the evening with a bottle of whiskey.
Approaching him tentatively, Colonel McKee offered him a tumbler and took a seat beside him…something Wyatt was not necessarily opposed to, but in his piss ass mood he really wasn't in the mood to socialize. Small talk was not his strong set even in the 21st century…but here in 1754? What the hell was he supposed to say to these people?
He just wanted to drown his frustrations in a glass or two of whiskey and call it a night.
Hoping that the two men would decide to converse together and leave him the hell alone, he took the proffered tumbler of whiskey, but no sooner had he taken a swig of the amber liquid than Colonel McKee cleared his throat and with an appraising eye assailed, "So…enlighten me if you will…I don't believe you ever told me exactly what it was that brought you to these parts?"
Wyatt frowned slightly, not quite sure of what to say. He couldn't tell them the truth, that was for damn sure…but he knew, given the current geo-political climate, there had to be some reason why he, Lucy and Rufus would be wandering around the forests of Western Pennsylvania without so much as compass between them. Trying to think of what little he knew about American history Wyatt shrugged, "Same thing that brought you all out here, I imagine. Just looking for a chance to make my way in the world."
"A man of vision and adventure" John Fraser said as he lifted his glass to him with a nod, "now that's something I can drink to."
Wyatt joined him in downing another swig of whiskey, but Colonel McKee resisted, instead choosing to press on with his questions, "And your…uh…sister?" "Why is she here?"
Wyatt narrowed his eyes as he drummed his fingers against his glass…half wondering why the hell he was being interrogated like this, but finding he was too irritated to care. Scoffing, Wyatt replied bitterly, "Not to get married."
"I see." Colonel McKee mused thoughtfully. "You don't approve of Matthew, I take it?"
"Doesn't matter if I approve." Wyatt grumbled, "She can do whatever the hell she wants."
"You have no say in the matter?" Colonel McKee pressed.
"Why would I?" Wyatt asked, "If she wants to settle down here in the 18th…" he cut himself off, rubbing a rough hand over her face, before turning to Colonel McKee with a sigh, "Look, Lucy is perfectly capable of making her own decisions…she doesn't need my permission."
"She's obviously well-educated." Colonel McKee agreed, "Knows her history, can speak French…yet it is curious that you do not possess the same skills." Wyatt paused mid-drink, choking slightly as he turned his full attention to the British officer who continued to ruminate over the puzzling story they had presented him, "Seems awfully strange that so much attention should be lavished on the daughter's education and upbringing…but not the son's."
Shit.
Wyatt set down his glass with shaking hands, frantically trying to come up with some excuse as to the obvious difference in their education, "Well…" he stammered, "I…um…I was always busy helping…you know…my grandfather…on his ranch…he swallowed hard, clenching his eyes shut as he added ruefully, "um…in New York."
"Ah yes…Montauk, was it?" Colonel McKee said with a nod, "Tell me, were there many Frenchman who came to do business at your ranch?"
Wyatt stared back at him blankly, "No…"
"Then what was the purpose of your sister learning French?"
"I don't know" Wyatt spat out irritably, "why don't you ask her? She's the one who studied it."
"You know," John Fraser piped up thoughtfully, "the lass does strike me as someone who reads a great deal. Did you hear her chatting away with Matthew about Shakespeare and Homer and all of that?"
"Exactly." Wyatt grumbled. "She just likes to learn."
"But not the basic things?" John Fraser said thoughtfully, causing Wyatt to gulp nervously, "She stood right out there in my hall and admitted she doesn't know how to even thread a needle." John Fraser observed in astonishment, "what lass doesn't know how to do that?"
"So she doesn't like to sew…" Wyatt argued with a shrug, "there's gotta be some other women who don't…"
"Her parents obviously took great pains to see that she was raised in intellectual circles, trained her in a foreign language, saw to it that she understood the ins and outs of history and current affairs," Colonel McKee outlined, "but didn't find it necessary to instill in her basic skills such as needlepoint…why would they ever agree to send her out into the wilderness, unmarried…unprotected?"
"She's not unprotected." Wyatt spat out, "she has me."
John Fraser exchanged a look with Colonel McKee before smiling at Wyatt in amusement, "Indeed, she does…but not as a brother, I think."
Wyatt made to argue, but Colonel McKee stopped him, "I think it's abundantly clear the two of you are no relation. The lack of similarity in your looks, the difference in your education and skillset, the fact that you stated you have no responsibility towards her choice of husband…if you really were her brother, you would feel compelled by duty to make sure she was well looked after.
Wyatt gaped at the two men now eyeing him with mounting interest…hardly believing what was happening. He had been ambushed. They had completely set him up to catch him off his guard and wriggle the truth out of him. How the hell did he not see this coming? Wyatt shook his head, trying in vain to argue against, what he knew to be, cold hard facts. He was not Lucy's brother…not by a long shot…but somehow, he had to convince them that he was. "Listen, when I said I didn't care…I do…I just…Lucy is her own person and I…"
"I don't think either of us are arguing that you don't care about the lass, lad." John Fraser quipped with a smile. "We both saw how you held her earlier today."
"No, look, she was upset…she was crying…I was just…" Wyatt countered awkwardly, but he knew his argument was failing.
John Fraser offered him a sympathetic frown, "I'm a man who has lived, loved and lost…and I know from my own experience that a girl like that wouldn't just leave a life of comfort and ease and trade it for one such as this unless she was…compelled to."
Wyatt stared back at him, offended, "I…I didn't force her to come here, if that's what you're implying."
"Not at all." Colonel McKee assured, "What John and I are suggesting is that perhaps the two of you found yourself in a…bit of trouble?"
Wyatt's mind was racing. Trouble? Yes, the reason they were here was because they found themselves stranded by a time traveling asshole…but it wasn't like he could tell them that. What the hell kind of trouble did people get into in the 18th century? What possible reason could someone like Lucy have to follow someone like Wyatt out into the middle of nowhere, away from her family, her friends…
Oh.
"No." Wyatt assured. "No…it's nothing like that. Lucy and I…we're…we're…I mean, she's not…we're not…"
"Married?" John Fraser supplied with a nod to Colonel McKee, "just as I thought…well that would explain the running, but I have to tell you sir, as long as the young lady is under my roof, her honor and virtue are my responsibility…there will be no…"
"No!" Wyatt stammered out, "There's nothing like that…I mean…you don't have to protect her virtue…because…because…" Wyatt swallowed hard, before adding with a relenting sigh, "she's my…my…wife."
"My dear fellow, do you really expect us to believe that?" Colonel McKee asked dubiously. "Why all the secrecy if she were really your wife? Why does she not wear a ring" Wyatt had no answer for that, so he said nothing. "No," Colonel McKee proclaimed sagely, "I imagine this is an elopement gone awry." "Parents didn't approve? What was it son, your Quaker upbringing? Money? Position?" When Wyatt didn't answer, he plopped a comforting hand down on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, "I see…opposed on all counts, was it?"
"It's complicated." Wyatt finally muttered softly, "I was…I was married before…and Lucy…she was…she was engaged."
"Ah I see…she jilted her fiancé…and your first wife…she is still living?" Colonel McKee pressed.
"No." Wyatt said with huff, "She…she died."
Colonel McKee quickly turned to his friend, who raised his glass to Wyatt with a frown, "Aye...I understand that all too well, lad. I lost my wife about a year ago today…never thought I'd find another who could take her place."
"Yes," Colonel McKee agreed sadly, "losing Jane was hard on all of us. It's horrible, the way she was killed."
"What happened?" Wyatt asked quietly, knowing all too well what it meant to lose a wife.
"She was traveling home from Fort Cumberland." John Fraser said with a sigh, "when she was beset upon by a tribe of Indians…possibly a few Frenchman too, from the looks of it." He took a drink of alcohol before he continued ruefully, "I should hae never let her travel without me."
"You can't blame yourself, John." Alexander McKee urged. "That road was well traveled...it's only here now that it has become so hazardous."
John Fraser shook his head, "I don't think I will ever forgive myself for neglecting my duty as a husband to a fine wife…but I thank God every day that he saw fit to bless me with another." He nodded to Wyatt, "You marry that lass of yours…a fine woman like that deserves nothing less."
"Yes, but I do encourage you to make things right with her family." Colonel McKee urged, "Think of how worried they must be…"
Wyatt gave an imperceptible nod of his head as John Fraser continued, "Aye…make things right, marry the girl…but until then, she's under my protection. There'll be no living in sin under my roof or on my property. I'll send her straight back to her parents and fiancé if I see any hint of that going on, you understand?"
Wyatt stammered out some sort of incoherent agreement, his brain reeling too much to string many words together before he downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp.
How the hell did this happen?
Lucy had gone from his team mate, to his sister, to his (sort of) wife in one damn day….and she had no idea. They should have just been honest from the start. Why the hell did he even agree to be her brother in the first place? Her nearly black hair, her dark eyes, her porcelain ivory skin stood in sharp contrast to his own features…and even if they hadn't, Colonel McKee was right...she was in a completely different league than he was...no way in hell did they belong to the same gene pool. There was just something about her, the way she carried herself, the way she talked…that made it abundantly clear she was far more refined than he was…even if she was the clumsiest person he had ever met in his life.
But as ridiculous as it was to think that Lucy could ever be his sister, it was nothing to the crazy idea that someone like Lucy would ever leave a life of ease and comfort to run off to struggle in the wilderness with someone like him. It wasn't like he suggested it…they had…but what could he do? He couldn't tell them the truth…and if he had told them they weren't married…had no intention of being married…well, what would that mean for Lucy in this day and age? Traveling alone, unchaperoned with not one, but two men in the 18th century wilderness? Wyatt may not have been up on the social mores of the day, but somehow, he understood that was probably frowned upon.
No…whether he liked it or not they were going to have to go on with this charade. He was going to have to "marry" Lucy…before they sent her off to God knows where or married her off to someone else.
He just had no idea how in the hell he was going to tell her.
Notes:
John Fraser and Alexander McKee are both actual historical figures. Alexander McKee was an Indian agent in the French and Indian war and yes, he was married to Nonhelema. John Fraser did own land that was taken by the French to become Fort Machault (the unfinished fort from the beginning of this fic) and he did relocate to Turtle Creek about 11 miles south of Fort Duquense...which is where I have them in my story. He was also a gunsmith and did have a forge. In fact, he had a forge at his home in Fort Machault and the French took it over.
I DID take a few liberties in this chapter. While Alexander McKee's mother WAS kidnapped and taken in by the Indian tribe that abducted her, the story he tells our time team is that of Mary Jemison who was actually kidnapped around the time of Braddock's defeat in 1755. But her story was graphic (those details came from her account about her parents scalps) and seeing as that was pretty much the norm for this day and age, I just decided to dramatize Alexander McKee's mother's tale a bit for the purposes of this story.
The other liberty I took was the account of John Fraser's first wife Jane. She was abducted in 1754, but I changed it to a year before for the purposes of this story...and hopefully you'll understand why as this story develops.
The cattle ranch in New York...also true...it's the oldest cattle ranch in America...who knew, right?
I think that's all the history I covered in this chapter...and I hope you enjoyed it. As always, thank you for reading!