3
Epilogue
"Were you going to go without a word?" a strong female voice asked as Nicholas Knightsford placed his hand on the latch of the tavern door and lifted it. It was well into the wee hours of the morning, and he had thought to make good his escape.
Turning, he found Daniel Boone's lovely wife standing on the stair. She had been above, attending to Mingo whose health was still fragile, though his old friend was mending. Her husband had reluctantly parted from her the morning of their return two days before, graciously – if somewhat unwillingly – agreeing to Rebecca's request to return their children to their home.
Nicholas' lips pursed. He released the latch and took a step toward her. "I thought it better this way," he answered with chagrin.
"I hadn't pegged you for a coward," she answered as she descended, a slight smile softening her words.
"No, but you have 'pegged' me for what I am. Can you live with that truth?"
Rebecca's hand went involuntarily to the cross she wore. The precious symbol was once again fastened about her neck and cloaked by a modesty scarf for his sake. Its silver shone brightly after a polish, but her beloved Bible would remain forever singed.
"And what are you?" she asked as she landed at his side.
Nicholas sighed. "You alone, of all here, know that."
He had used his influence with her husband. Though Daniel Boone was not easily led, he was more than willing to listen to his own voice when amplified. All of the things he had seen and suspected, had reasonable explanations. Nicholas had simply added his own influence, confirming what the frontiersman thought. In Daniel Boone's world there was no room for even a hint of the supernatural.
Which was just as well.
Cincinnatus and the people of the settlement were mortal sheep. It took little to lead them where he wanted. In the morning they would remember nothing. Or if any did remember, it would be only to comment on the curious English trio who had come to town.
His old friend Cara-Mingo had been a more delicate matter. His exposure to the cold and the necessary loss of blood, coupled with Henry Pitcairn's possession, had left him fragile. Slowly, with the patience of a caring parent, Nicholas had used his abilities to nurse him, body and soul. He was out of danger now. Still, it would not do for him to remember the ordeal. Nicholas had used his influence to alter his old friend's perceptions so he would remember his visit, but nothing of the haunting or his powers.
Rebecca watched him closely as all of this played through his mind. "Yes, I know what you are," she said at last. "A good friend. A good man."
He shook his head. "I am not a man – "
She reached out and unexpectedly caught his hand. "You are wrong. You are a man, and you are good. Continue to choose to be both, Nicholas, and you will find your way back to God."
She almost had the power to convince him. "If you say so," he answered.
"What will you do now?" she asked as she released him. "Now that…that creature is no more?"
He hadn't the heart to tell her that LaCroix was only somewhere nursing his wounds. It mattered little anyway. When he moved on, his master would have no reason to trouble these good people again. "I will join Janette. Most likely she will want to winter in Philadelphia." From her expression, he could see she did not approve. "You do not like Janette?"
"She is one of God's creatures. Or was." Rebecca Boone scowled. "Be careful of her, Nicholas. She has no desire to do good."
He nodded. Then he took her hand in his. "I have something to ask you, Rebecca. Think long and hard before you answer."
She looked skeptical. "What?"
"Though you are what we call a 'resistor', you can be influenced – if you choose to be. I can make you forget."
"You can?"
He saw it in her eyes – the desire to live without the truth of what she knew. "Yes. If you want it."
She thought a moment. "Will I remember you?"
Nicholas was taken aback. It made a difference to her that she did. "If you so desire. It will be as with Mingo. I am an old friend who came to visit, and has gone."
Her fingers clutched the cross again. Unexpectedly, she smiled. "In a way, you are proof of my faith. Proof that there is more to our lives than this weary world. But…."
"But?"
"For the children, it would be best if I did not remember. Their world is
innocent…."
"And yours is no longer."
As she nodded, tears filled her eyes.
He took her hand. "Come with me then to the fire….."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Becky Boone stirred and roused herself. The fire had gone out and the tavern's main room grown chill. She hugged her shawl about her trembling form and turned to find that the door was standing wide open. Rising to her feet, she crossed to it and stood, for just a moment, looking out into the snow. As she did she felt a sense of loss she didn't understand, but then she heard Mingo's voice calling to her softly from the room upstairs and it faded with the necessity of 'doing'. Turning, she made her way to the stair. Mingo had been quite sheepish the last time they had spoken – as well he should! Imagine, heading out into a snow storm alone and after too many drinks. He was lucky that old friend of his had been passing through and found him before he had frozen to death. It was a shame Nicholas Knightsford had not been able to remain until Mingo was healed, but he had been on his way to Philadelphia to meet someone and had to go.
He certainly had seemed a nice young man…..
- END –
