Burying his wife is the hardest thing Joseph Garnet has ever done—until he's called to leave his young son and baby daughter to fight Iroquois raiders. When one of the marauders tries to steal his horse, the last thing he expects is to end up tussling with a female. The girl is wounded, leaving Joseph little choice but to haul her home to heal—an act that seems all too familiar. Though Joseph doesn’t appear to remember her, Hannah Cunningham could never forget him. He rode with the mob that forced her two brothers into the Continental Army and drove her family from their home—all because of her father’s loyalties to The Crown. After five years with her mother’s tribe, the rebels and starvation have left her nothing but the driving need to find her brothers. Compelled by a secret he’s held for far too long, Joseph agrees to help Hannah find what remains of her family. Though she begins to steal into his aching heart, he knows the truth will forever stand between them. Some things cannot be forgiven. Angela K. Couch is a passionate believer in Christ and the author of The Scarlet Coat and The Patriot and the Loyalist . The Tory's Daughter By Angela K. Couch Pelican Ventures, LLC Copyright © 2018 Angela K. Couch All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-5223-0085-4 CHAPTER 1 May 1781, Mohawk Valley Nine months ... and he still felt like a rotted-out stump. Hollow. Joseph Garnet lowered to his knees on the soft soil and glanced at his baby girl, nine months old today. She sat at the foot of her mother's grave, gnawing on the end of the twig her brother had just handed her. James, now two-and-a-half, searched the immediate area for more treasure. A pebble came to hand, and he brought it to Joseph. "Papa, look." Joseph took the smooth rock and placed it near the roughhewn cross bearing Fannie's name. "Should we leave it here for Mama?" Little James, named for his grandfather, nodded. "Want Mama." "You and me both." Joseph filled his lungs. The air was laden with the scent of moisture and earth. Spring. The season had done little to dull the loneliness winter had festered within him. He was busy with planting, but that also meant he had less time with his children. "Joseph!" He sighed. Rachel had probably forgotten something for the children. His sister worried too much. Did she not trust him to manage his own young'uns for a couple of hours? That was all he'd asked for this Sabbath day. His name echoed closer now. Joseph stood and plucked Martha and her twig from the ground. He didn't need Rachel to find him here. Again. Judging from her frantic tone, he'd best hurry. A child in each arm, Joseph breached the edge of the grove to see Rachel rushing across the freshly turned earth of the garden, skirt pulled almost to her knees. "The raiders. They're back." Joseph faltered. "What? Where?" Rachel pushed strands of blonde away from the perspiration moist on her face. "Down river, maybe ten miles. A boy came riding. They need help." "The Frankfort area? Where's Andrew?" She motioned behind to where her husband stepped from the small barn — hardly more than a shed — their own little girl in his arms. "You'll meet the others at the old fort." Rachel reached for the baby and James. "I'll stay here with the children." Thoughts taking flight with his pulse, Joseph managed a nod before sprinting past her and shoving into the cabin. He grabbed the musket from over the door, and then snatched up his pistol and powder horn. His hunting knife he slid into his boot. Would there ever be an end to this fighting-this war? Joseph's stomach already turned. Hadn't there been enough bloodshed? Years ago he'd learned to despise this waste of life-even before a British officer became his closest friend ... and family. Andrew Wyndham met him outside with the horses. "Otetiani's raiders by the sounds of it." The rich tones of England still rolled from Andrew's tongue despite his four years' residence in the Mohawk valley. He handed Joseph the reins to Hunter, and then swung aboard the younger horse. "They rode from the lakes and have been killing and burning their route southward." Joseph mounted and clenched the reins. The locals had come to call the Mohawk chief Bloody Bear for the death his warriors brought to the valley. The thought of the raiders coming anywhere near his home and family wrung a cold sweat from the back of Joseph's neck. Last summer had become so dangerous, they'd set up makeshift shelters in Old Fort Schuyler, only venturing out during the day to work and harvest the land. Winter's reprieve was at an end. With Joseph's baby daughter in one arm and little James holding his younger cousin's hand, Rachel shooed the children into the cabin, before she glanced back. Her free hand rose, but didn't quite manage a wave. Rachel's brown eyes mirrored Joseph's fear ... and his weakness, exposing him. He spurred Hunter toward the road. "Please be careful. Come back to me. Both of you." "We shall," Andrew said, and