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Nathaniel’s tone pulled Joseph up and around like a firm grip on his shoulder. But it was the hard set of his mouth and firm slant of his eyes that made Joseph’s stomach harden with his next intake of breath. “What is it?”
He heaved through his words. “You’ll want to come with me.”
Without pausing to question him, Joseph followed Nathaniel’s frantic pace down the long, staggered row of temporary shelters. “What’s happened?”
Running, Nathaniel stayed quiet until he reached a large tent surrounded by a mumbling crowd of men. He halted and clutched Joseph’s shoulder, that same hard look once again gripping the lines of his face.
Joseph swallowed, his mind coughing against the billowing dust of the unknown. Had Jacob followed him—injured himself on the way? “Out with it!”
Nathaniel peered to the tent before stabbing Joseph with a look that went clear through him. “Something has happened at the foundry.”
“What do you mean?”
At that moment, Henry exited the tent and maneuvered his way through the thick mass of men to where Joseph and Nathaniel stood. He said nothing, only nodded and passed by as if he’d been ordered to keep silent.
“I don’t know the details, only that…” Nathaniel dropped his hand and sighed without once moving his gaze from Joseph.
His blood chilled more than even the air that bit his cheeks. “Tell me.”
Nathaniel pointed to the tent, then dropped his hand to his side. “Ensign is—”
“Is what? Is here?” He strangled the urge to yell. “Speak, man.”
Nathaniel gripped Joseph’s bicep with grinding force. “’Tis not Ensign that is here, Joseph.” He paused, his jaw working. “’Tis Hannah.”
The force of Nathaniel’s words hurled against him, and he stepped back. “Do not jest of such things.”
“I do not jest.”
The strike of his answer hit Joseph firm in the gut.
Nathaniel released his grip, but not his stare. “She arrived moments ago.”
Too many thoughts scrambled through Joseph’s mind for him to find a single word to speak, let alone think. His heart began a rapid thumping, bringing heat back into his lifeless limbs. He looked from Nathaniel to the tent.
“Hannah is in there?”
“She is weak and very chilled from the ride but—”
Joseph didn’t wait for more. He split through the crowd and launched through the canvas door, his pulse thumping hard in his throat.
He stared, blinking, waiting for the truth of what his eyes beheld to match the understanding he tried to unfold in his mind. Shivering on the cot, under a thick mass of blankets, lay the woman he’d known so well. Red cheeks, hair a tangle of honey-gold knots, full lips chapped. Why was she—
“All I could make of her broken words was that something has happened to Ensign.”
Nathaniel’s voice snapped the weak limb Joseph had perched upon, forcing him back to the cold ground where he stood.
“I fear he is dead.”
Joseph jerked his head around. “Dead?”
“I do not know the details. We must warm her. She must drink and gain her strength. Hold her up while I try and get her to take some of this coffee.”
Frozen, Joseph struggled to decipher what his friend had spoken. He didn’t honestly expect him to get any closer than this.
Nathaniel spun, wild questions folding hard across his brow. “Come on, man. She must drink.”
His lungs slowed their pace. He stammered, trying to find a way to get his tongue and lips to work in unison, but their sudden numbness made speaking difficult. “She…she wouldn’t want me to. Why not Henry or someone else?”
