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Page 198
small, round man looked sincere to Mariah. His cheeks were as big as a frugal squirrel's.
"Who is this lovely lady?" the man asked.
"That is Miss Mariah Walker," said a familiar tenor voice from behind her. Mariah turned to see Francis Kerr rush toward her from a doorway. "I thought that was you coming from the river, Miss Walker. I am so pleased to see you again."
He took her hands in his warm, moist ones and squeezed. His orange hair was ruffled about his head, and his mushroom-colored eyes glowed with apparent happiness.
"How are you, Francis? Is everything all right here?"
His smile was grim as he turned toward the door. Another of his band of settlers had entered the shop, and behind him stood the glowering young man in Maitland's troop. A second uniformed soldier squeezed inside the door.
"Everything is fine," he said, "for those of us who enjoy caretakers. We can enter privies on our own, but little else."
"But why?"
"I must echo the question," Thorn said softly. He now stood beside Mariah, glaring down at her hands as they were still gripped by Francis's. Flushing, Mariah pulled hers gently away. Thorn continued, "I have not heard before of such interest being paid to a single group of homesteaders."
"Unhappily, we are to be the examples." Francis's scowl and jutting jaw showed how much he detested the idea. "We were informed so by Maitland. Many more indentured servants land upon these shores every day, and as they arrive others who have completed the time of their servitude depart to find homes. If the soldiers allow us to settle west of the Proclamation Line, others will believe they can as well."
"Isn't there anyplace else to go?" Mariah asked.
"South," Francis admitted, "but opportunities abound westward."
"And so do Indian fights," Thorn said.
Francis took a step toward him. He was shorter and leaner than Thorn but raised his head belligerently and looked him straight in the eye. "Would you run from such adversity if you thought you were in the right?"

 
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