She wasn't in the cabin when he got there. "She's picking berries for a pie." Mima told him. "She said you'd be back today or tomorrow. I don't know how she knows that! She's almost always right. She said we ought to make you and Mingo a pie." She looked at her father's face. "What's wrong, Pa?" He'd gathered them close to him, and explained.
"Now, you go off to the fort and keep an eye on your cousin. Cincinatus is expecting you. You best hurry. It will be dark soon." They'd nodded with sad eyes and left quietly.
"Pa," Israel began just before he stepped out the door.
"Yes, son?" Israel hesitated, unsure. Daniel hugged his son, kissing his cheek. "Don't worry, hon. I'll look after your Ma." Israel nodded.
***DB***
She was humming as she picked the berries. She was always singing or humming. He couldn't think of anyone more cheerful than his wife. Her temper was legendary, but it was like a sudden storm - gone in an instant. More often than not, she was downright joyous. He could never figure it - isolated, living on the edge of the wilderness, husband gone more often than home, more children buried than living, family lost at a young age, yet she was almost always smiling. He often teased her saying, "You know you even smile in your sleep!"
"Only when you're home." She'd replied sweetly, kissing his cheek.
The first time he'd ever laid eyes on her, she was grinning from ear to ear looking out to the horizon. "This land we're going to, sure must be beautiful!" Those were the first words she'd ever said to him. Her red hair lit with light from behind glowed and her blue eyes matched the sky itself, but all of it paled next to her joyous exuberance. He was captured completely in that single moment. She'd finished him off in just one sentence. After that he dared not speak her name for fear she'd hear in his voice how she'd taken possession of him.
So much joy then, and despite unending hardships, so much joy now. He sighed miserably. In just a few minutes, he would open his mouth and each word he spoke would wound her. She saw him then and smiled. "You're back already!" She said walking towards him. "You didn't find anything then? Good. Maybe those folks turned back." She hesitated, seeing his face. She realized something terrible must have occurred. "Oh, Daniel." She moved toward him wrapping her arms around him. "Those poor people! Did anyone survive? It must have been awful. You poor thing you look white as a ghost!"
Her loving compassion was more than he could take. He cleared his throat looking into her blue eyes - eyes gentle with compassion for him, for his suffering; for his pain. He moved away from her, unable to meet her trusting blue eyes, and sat on the bench at the edge of the garden. It had been his birthday present to her.
"Sit down, next to me 'Becca," he said gently, "There's something I have to tell you." She hesitated her eyes wide. Becca. He almost never called her that - except late at night, when they were alone. She found herself shaking, filled suddenly with an unexplainable fear.
"What is it, Dan?" She said sitting slowly.
"I've terrible news, mo shearc," he said taking her small hands in his, "I'm so sorry." And fighting off tears he began.