Laurel Ames - Nancy Whiskey

When Daniel wandered into the kitchen the next day, Nancy, Trueblood and Mrs. Cook were all so intently watching a kettle simmering upon a pile of coals on the hearth that they did not immediately perceive he was not the boy hired to cut wood until he did not deposit any in the box under the window.

“Daniel!” Nancy leaped up and ran to him. She had just enough command of herself to merely embrace him and pull him toward a chair at the table, rather than kiss him as she would have liked to do. “You look so tired. I have some soup hot over the fire. Sit down. Tell us about your journey.”

“Double, double toil and trouble,” Daniel chanted as he sat down tiredly. “Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

Nancy laughed as she carried a steaming pot to the table and got down a bowl. “I suppose we do look like a trio of witches stirring a most unpromising brew.”

“I sincerely hope that is not what you are planning on feeding me, for the reek of it reached me halfway down the street.”

“Not unless you feel yourself to be coming down with the fever, for it is a rather potent purgative.”

“I was hoping this house had been spared. Trueblood, you should have taken Miss Riley away from here.” Daniel touched the chicken broth to his lips, then sipped it gratefully, looking about for bread just as Nancy pushed a loaf toward him.

“I did suggest it, little brother.”

“How could you think I would desert Mrs. Cook?”

“Not you, too, mistress?” Daniel paused to look his landlady over thoughtfully.

“Yes, but I am better now. It was Nancy and Trueblood who pulled me through it. Prudence as well.”

“Now if we can just save Tibby,” Nancy said, going to stare at the infusion in the kettle.

“Since it appears that those who survive are those through whom it passes the quickest, your idea of purging it may make the most sense,” Trueblood said. “But why intersperse the doses of rhubarb with the Peruvian bark?”

“Only because it works for the ague. And I cannot believe the two diseases are unrelated. The symptoms vary, but the causes are the same.”

“The fetid swamps,” Mrs. Cook said, drawing the great wooden spoon out and sniffing it.

“Do you mind?” Daniel asked.

“Sorry, Daniel. Are we disgusting you?” Nancy went and got a chunk of cooked beef from the larder and sliced it for him. He laid a thick piece on his bread and ate the two with one hand while he dipped up soup with the other. It made Nancy wonder how long he had gone without eating, and if he had done so to hurry back to her. She sat down to stare at him and only realized she must be smiling vacantly when he spoke with his mouth full.

“Yes. Moreover, I think you are enjoying mucking about with your herbs.”

“I am not. I would rather no one ever got sick.”

“But it gives you a great deal of importance when they do.” Daniel tore another chunk off the loaf of bread.

“That’s not true. I only want to feel useful. Someone must take care of the sick.”

“I am surprised you have not hired yourself out to the hospitals.” Since this pronouncement produced a dead silence, Daniel could only think that Nancy had been performing some such service. “If that isn’t the outside of enough.” His fist hit the table. “Well, pack your bags, Miss Riley. I am about to escort you to meet your esteemed papa.”

“I will not be hauled away like a child.”

“Even if he sent for you?”

“You have seen him?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes, and he commissioned me to take you to Pittsburgh. He has bought an inn. Not much of one, but I take it he is in need of someone to manage it.”

“Manage it? Me? But what is he doing?”

“Running the still.”

“Oh, yes, of course. When do we set out?”

“Two days, if I can manage it.”

“But that is plenty of time. By then Prudence will be able to help nurse Tibby.”

“How convenient for you.” Daniel wolfed the rest of his food and retired to his room, leaving Nancy and Trueblood in the kitchen, writing out their cures for Mrs. Cook.

“Damn!” Nancy said impatiently as she stepped out of one shoe and looked back to see it mired in the crossing. She hopped precariously on one foot, holding up her plain work skirt with the hand carrying the basket as she turned and reached down to pull the shoe free without muddying her stocking. Suddenly she was scooped up by a strong pair of arms, and was just about to raise her voice in complaint when she realized it was Daniel. She did not hit him with the muddy shoe, but wrapped her arm about his neck instead.

“When I recommended these lodgings to you, I did not think you meant to hire yourself out as a servant to Mrs. Cook.”

“What on earth do you mean? I have only been helping since the maids have been ill. You can put me down now.” Nancy stared about her to see if she knew any of the pedestrians.

“If I do you will only go on about the marketing. I am taking you back to Mrs. Cook’s.”

“But that is where I was going. I was just leaving a fever medicine at the Nortons’.”

Daniel hesitated. “Is one of them ill?”

“One of the servants. Your friend has sent Elise and the girls to his plantation. He even offered to send me there for a visit.”

“Which you declined in your high-handed way, I suppose.” Daniel continued carrying her along the pathway, oblivious to stares from what few people still dared walk the streets.

“I wish you would put me down, Daniel,” Nancy said, but without conviction. “You are causing a spectacle.”

“Nothing like the spectacle of you exposing yourself up to the knee to fetch that shoe out of the mud.”

“A gentleman would not have looked.”

“Any man would have looked, even one staggering about with the fever.”

“But what will people think?” Nancy asked, blushing at the backhanded compliment.

“That you have sprained your ankle. At least that is the story I suggest, but you are so inventive I am sure you can come up with something better.”

They were within a block of home, so she left off arguing and thought about the strong arms under her thighs and around her back. “Norton seemed surprised you had not been to see him yet,” she taunted.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing much, just raised one eyebrow in that way he has of indicating he cannot quite credit his senses.”

“I was on my way to see him now. I shall tell him you detained me.”

“I do not think that will surprise him,” Nancy said, somewhat gratified that Daniel thought her safety of more moment than reporting to Norton.

“What? Bye the bye, are you packed yet?”

“Daniel, I am always packed.”

“Yes, if the British attacked, you would be the only one poised to embark on a war. Here we are at Mrs. Cook’s. See that you are ready to leave on a moment’s notice.”

“Well, Daniel?” Norton asked a half hour later as Daniel stood brooding over a small glass of brandy.

“You sound like Trueblood.”

“That sounds like an accusation. I did not look for you for a week yet.”

“I got back late yesterday.”

“Rough trip?”

“Did you get any of my letters?”

“One. I swear, you may as well carry the mail. You do about as well as the post riders sometimes.”

“I dislike sending information that way.”

“You worry too much. It would never occur to the backwoods rabble that they have a spy among them. What pompous nonsense are they about now?”

“Well, they’ve burned one of the tax collectors,” Daniel said.

“What?”

“In effigy, that is.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Norton asked.

“Every inn and tavern is rife with talk of rebellion,” Daniel added.