Rachel nudged the scattered bouquet with the toe of her boot. The gaze she raised to Gid was cold. Before turning away from him, she said tersely, “You can try.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Here, Marian, we have Gideon Winter of Middleton, New Hampshire.” Phineas introduced my brother with a nod in his direction. After Gid bowed in greeting, Phineas continued, “And this is Miss Rachel Welds, recently a companion to Mrs. Linton of Barre, but on account of her pending nuptials, currently our guest. I invited her”—he slid me a twinkling smile to acknowledge this rapper—“for she’ll be better situated living with us, closer to her betrothed, until the happy day she commences her wedded bliss.”
Rachel bobbed a curtsy. She kept her gaze on the floor. I could tell by the hands she folded tightly in front of her and by the way she chewed on her bottom lip that she was worried, probably fretting that her arrival would discompose the other woman. My heart went out to Rachel. How awful to live so uncertainly, with no place to call home.
Marian Gale, Phineas’s sister, apparently as no-nonsense as Phineas was nonsensical, took this news in stride and nodded. “I’d appreciate the company. It’s been a lonely winter.” She smiled at her, then included Gid in that smile. “Congratulations on your engagement.”
With an embarrassed glance at Rachel, my brother turned a deep shade of red and shook his head.
Phineas laughed. “Not him. She’s marrying Freddy here.”
I shot him a dark look. He knew perfectly well the engagement was a farce I’d concocted to get Rachel away from the Lintons. But ever since she’d joined our company, he’d insisted on referring to her as my Betrothed, Beloved, Conquest, and Wife-to-Be, once even using the title Future Mother of Freddy’s Brats.
Mrs. Gale was staring at me in surprise, and her brother couldn’t resist chuckling. “Hasn’t even cut his eyetooth yet, has he? Ah, well, love can blossom in the greenest heart. He’ll get his whiskers in time, and Miss Welds will be ready and waiting to shave them off for him.”
His sister rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Phin.”
I liked Marian Gale already. Perhaps she and I would become friends. Despite her having three small children, she didn’t appear much older than me. She must have married very young.
Her expression turned curious. “Are you and Mr. Winter related, then?”
“Nope,” Phineas answered for me. “This is Mr. Freddy of Nowhere in Particular.” I stood, hot-faced and squirming, as he continued with theatrical gravity: “Halfway through his journey, Gid discovered this poor boy on the roadside. Young Freddy had disguised himself as a female in an attempt to escape his apprenticeship to an evil silversmith. He couldn’t return home, for he has none. You see, he’s a foundling, his parents having been the unfortunate victims of violent bandits. So he joined Gid, resumed his boyish gender, and at some point (don’t ask me when or how) became betrothed to Miss Welds—a sensible engagement, despite his youth, once you understand Freddy’s commitment to public reform. The lad has a profound respect for women. I once had the pleasure of witnessing him climb a pulpit and deliver a scathing lecture on the mistreatment of the fair sex. Got quite the reaction, let me tell you, almost incited a brawl, but Freddy got away with nary a scratch and with a generous slice of apple pie, to boot—one he, alas, deemed too small to share with his comrades. Then his safety was nearly compromised a second time when the evil silversmith followed our trail to Skunk’s Misery in Batavia, but Gid here—a good sport, I have to say—put on the old girly costume and pulled off a decent performance as my wife. We completely confounded the silversmith and hopefully have seen the last of him, for if there’s one thing I can’t like, it’s an evil silversmith, no matter how talented he may be in selecting beautiful horseflesh. Thus: All’s well that ends well.”
He flourished a hand to present the interior of the cabin, softly aglow with firelight at one end and, at the other, brightened by the vestiges of daylight warmly filling the single window. “Welcome to my humble abode.” He tapped the bottom of a ladder with his boot. “The children sleep in the loft. I’ll introduce you to the squeakers in the morning. No point in waking them. Enjoy the quiet while you can. They banish all peace the second they stir.”
Following this (admittedly ridiculous) summary of my history, I must have looked as mortified as I felt, for Phineas’s sister, when she recovered from her blatant astonishment, whisked the air with her hand and said, “Don’t mind my brother, Mr., er, Freddy. I assure you: I don’t. He prattles on so, I listen to his silly noisemaking with as much attention as I’d pay to a buzzing bee.”
This tugged a smile out of me.
Instead of questioning me on the particulars of my Banbury tale, she moved toward the hearth. “You could use a cup of tea, I expect. If you boys want to go out and take care of the cattle, I’ll pull together a repast to tide everyone over until morning.”
Rachel took a tentative step forward. “May I help?”
“Yes, please.” Mrs. Gale smiled over her shoulder. “I can always use a helping hand.”
Phineas and Gid strode to the door, the latter gazing around with appreciation and asking a question about the cabin’s size.
I dawdled in the doorway.
Rachel and Mrs. Gale made an inviting picture in the gently lit interior: the younger woman tucking a dusky curl behind her ear before rolling up her sleeves and washing her hands in the basin beside the door, and Mrs. Gale, blond and elegant-featured like her brother, though currently quite round with child, carefully stirring the contents of a pot over the fire.
The scene made me long for Mama, who was probably occupied in a similar fashion back home at this hour. And it made me miss gathering with other girls. Maybe I was simply weary of living outside, working against an evening wind that still carried a good bit of winter. But in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to stay put, feel the warmth of the fire, and join in on the women’s conversation, which, by the very lilt of the female voice, held the power to soothe.
With a sigh, I trudged outside. In the searing sunset, the homestead was a small pool of warm, colorful light encircled by the thick wall of black forest. As we’d traveled down the Ridge, Phineas had shared a few details about his property, and I’d learned that he and his sister’s family had settled in this location two years ago, each taking a little over two hundred acres on adjacent lots. Since Amos Gale’s death seven months ago, Phineas had given up his plan for a separate cabin and focused on improving what his brother-in-law had begun.
Phineas had already cleared a few acres. A rail fence enclosed the land in the front, while a brush fence followed along the sides and the rear. Stumps still dotted the open stretch. In addition, a cleared rectangle of a patch neatly marched along the south side of the house—obviously Mrs. Gale’s kitchen garden, though the season was too new for the ground to sport anything. Phineas had added a stick chimney to the house. Smoke wafted out of it and disappeared into the purpling sky.
Though rugged yet, this new home with its sturdy cottage and hard-won fields already reflected the stoic tenacity of its owners. How lovely this place was, compared to the sordid, careless disaster Mr. Linton had contrived.
Early in our acquaintance, I wouldn’t have pegged Phineas as much of a farmer, so enthusiastically had he delighted in playing the role of the dandy. But since then, I’d revised my impression. Perhaps Phineas didn’t love farming, but I bet he pursued it with grim faithfulness. And for all his tomfoolery, he possessed an honest core. He clearly despised the Lintons and would never permit such slovenly idleness on his land or unconscionable abuses in his household.
I shivered at the thought of Mr. Linton. What a relief to have Rachel here, safe and close to me, and no longer there, in that pit of terror.
* * *
After the late supper, I slept heavily on the floor without waking until my brother nudged my back and sang, “Rise and shine, Freddy.” He shrugged on his coat and left to see to the animals.
Along with the adult
s, one of the children had started his day: a small boy currently having a fit of happiness over his uncle’s return. Where he sat at the table, Phineas (not at all like the child hater he professed to be) joked with his nephew and let the boy climb all over him, while Rachel stirred the ash-dusted coals and Mrs. Gale sliced salt pork by a covered barrel. Without turning, the boy’s mother ordered, “Shush, Adam. You’ll wake the others.”
Gid returned to the cabin, lugging a package and glowing with excitement. “What a fair morning. Ready to go, Freddy?”
I groaned. No, I wasn’t. I was sore, sick of the outdoors, and exhausted. “Can we eat first?”
Mrs. Gale pointed at the table with her knife. “Have a seat, Mr. Winter. Your land’s not going anywhere.”
“Marian was never so bossy before she got married,” Phineas mused. “Once she started having children, she turned all the rest of us into her progeny, too, forever snapping, ‘Do this, do that.’” He made a face at his sister’s back.
“Put a plug in it, Phin.”
“See?”
Rachel smiled distractedly. “You heard her. Cork it, mister.”
“Lovely.” Phineas swept a hand in Rachel’s direction. “Yet another mother.”
Gid approached Mrs. Gale. “I wanted to give you and your brother this, in appreciation for your help and hospitality.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t have to give us presents. Your company’s thanks enough. We’re very happy to have more neighbors.”
He shook his head and held out the package. When she set down the knife and slowly accepted it, she smiled questioningly, and he explained, “It’s flour. Not an exciting gift, I know, but—”
Phineas jumped to his feet. “Flour?”
“Flour,” Mrs. Gale repeated breathlessly. For the first time since I’d met her, she showed a bit of her brother’s turn for the dramatic. Enraptured reverence enlivened both of their faces. She pressed the package to her bosom, blinked away tears, and said huskily, “You won’t come by flour easily or anytime soon in these parts. Are you sure you want to give this away?”
He nodded. Then the two smiled at each other, so warmly a stranger might have mistaken them for long-standing friends.
* * *
We didn’t linger over our coffee or wait to meet the other children. Gid was practically dancing with impatience. After listening closely to Phineas’s directions, thanking Mrs. Gale, and exchanging a stilted good-bye with Rachel, he strode to the doorway and urged me to hurry.
I said my good-byes more slowly. Pausing by Rachel’s side, I touched her arm and asked quietly, “Do you feel all right, staying here?”
Her hand came up in a weak flap. Without even smiling, she sighed a laugh. “As well as I can, I suppose,” she whispered.
I swallowed. “I’ll be back soon.” We will talk. We will make this better.
She scanned my person and raised her eyebrows.
I nodded. I’ll explain that, too. We clasped hands for a moment. Then, stifling a moan, I followed Gid outside. I had zero desire to rush back into the wilderness.
* * *
There was a track that went as far as the Five Corners, the place we’d first heard of from the agent at the Holland Land Company. This path wasn’t sufficiently wide to accept a wagon, so, with Fancy trotting at our heels and straying from time to time to investigate a chipmunk or squirrel, Gid and I set out on foot and followed the track in the direction of our property.
We carried provisions on our backs and drove the oxen for the better part of the day. My brother’s first objective was to widen the trail, and we would need the cattle to help us remove the felled trees. Gid’s good spirits lasted until we arrived by the Welds brothers’ small clearing. “We’ll visit them tomorrow,” he promised, frowning at the cabin in the distance.
He was probably vexed with the brothers’ shoddy behavior, how they’d abandoned Rachel in such a ghastly situation. Maybe he also felt that their negligence had inadvertently led to the current rift. Personally, I didn’t think he had anyone but himself to blame for Rachel’s coolness. His reaction to her plight at the Lintons’ had been cruel. Then to try to make up for it with a marriage proposal? Idiocy.
Still, he was my brother, so as I trudged behind him, I asked cautiously, “Do you feel like talking about Rachel?”
He didn’t even turn. “No.” With an edge, he retorted, “Do you want to talk about Daniel?”
I blew a sigh. “No.”
Who knew how my brother determined we’d reached our destination? It all looked like the same endless forest to me. But when the sun had slipped low enough in the sky to blaze like a fiery kite trapped in the branches, Gid halted. He dropped his pack to the ground. “This is it.”
I shrugged wearily. If he said so.
After felling a few trees for the cattle to browse, Gid took down a dry stub. I made a fire out of it, cooked a hasty supper, then struggled to construct a small lean-to for our night’s rest. My brother’s mood improved a little as he set about blocking the path to pen in the cattle. He managed a smile when he glanced at my hodgepodge nest. “Looks like the beginnings of a great bonfire.”
With a grunt, I heaved a last limb on top of the jumble and, after snatching a blanket out of my pack, crawled into the shelter. A brittle leaf fell on my face. I swatted it away, mentally cursed the roots digging into my back, and squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could extinguish everything troubling me as easily as I could cut short the day.
Not far from here, Rachel was settling into yet another home. Not far enough from here, Mr. Linton was running his household however he wished, exercising complete authority over his family. His drunken savagery and blatant negligence didn’t rob him of this privilege. The law guaranteed his rights, just as surely as it erased his wife’s. If I were to marry, who was to say my future might not resemble Mrs. Linton’s? Of course, not every man was a Mr. Linton. Daniel Long, for instance.
“What are you doing?” Gid asked outside the lean-to.
“Going to sleep.”
“Already?”
Fancy flew in, pounced on my stomach, and washed my cheek with her tongue. I grimaced. “I’m tired.”
Lord, I was tired. Tired of unjust laws and the senseless dictates of society, tired of life’s challenges, especially for women, who could never be free when they knew so few choices, tired of wading through the wilderness, tired of being cold and sore and uncomfortable, and tired of missing Daniel. Missing him and pretending not to.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The following day, I declined to visit the Welds brothers. Gid thought me unnaturally antisocial, but in my current mood, pretending to be a stranger around two men I’d known forever didn’t appeal to me. Even with the threat of bears, wolves, and panthers, I preferred to take my chances alone in the forest, where I could just be myself. Whoever that was.
I spent the morning improving our makeshift lean-to of branches and calling back Fancy when she wandered too far from the camp. While I worked, I worried about Rachel. And I thought about home.
Around this time of year, the family was very likely working with Daniel Long’s crew at the sugaring. Surely, by now, with the Middleton nights’ sharp freezes and the days’ quick thaws, the sap was flowing properly.
I pictured my faraway family and friends hauling the sugar buckets from the woods, pitching the thin liquid into the great boiling pan, and feeding the fire to keep the sweetness cooking, while the raw air around them sprang alive with smoke and the fragrance of steaming sap, a scent like wood and flower. Would Mama dish out a sample for my little sisters? Were patches of snow still on the ground, so she could cool the ladleful into taffy swirls? Would Daniel pack some of the rewards of the week’s efforts into a jar and deliver it to the Goodrich family as a present? This last thought violently aggravated me until I reasoned that the sugaring, if it was under way, must be progressing without Daniel’s assistance. He wouldn’t make it back home for at least a week.
My
hand automatically started for my pocket before I remembered: no lucky spile. No Daniel Long. No home. For the first time, I fully understood the meaning of homesick. Missing everyone and everything I used to know—it felt like a sickness, a piercing ache in the belly, a terrible squeeze around the heart.
Sighing, I gazed around at the woods. There was plenty of sumac for spouts in these parts, not to mention maple trees for sap. I wondered if Phineas, Mrs. Gale, and Rachel would be spending the week sugaring. It was quite possible, though at Mrs. Gale’s breakfast table, Phineas hadn’t mentioned it. In fact, the only task he’d discussed was manuring his fields, a chore he clearly dreaded.
My brother and I were a long way from that labor. We had no fields to manure. We just had trees, thousands and thousands of trees. As I thought about the cutting, hauling, stumping, and burning ahead, I winced. Clearing would be a new endeavor for me. I doubted it would be fun.
* * *
Gid returned by midday, his expression somber.
I looked up from the soup I’d concocted. “Don’t tell me. The Weldses have become just like Linton, despicable drunks.”
He didn’t smile. “They’re sick.”
I stopped stirring. “Badly?”
“Not deathbed sick—it’s not ague season yet—but the boys are pretty dragged down with colds. I did their morning chores. They’re as weak as newborn kittens.” He cast a wistful glance at the woods. “Guess I’d better head back. Do you know any of Mama’s cold remedies?”
I straightened by the fire. “Sure I do, and I’m better suited to administering them.” Gid didn’t know a thing about playing nursemaid. “Let me eat a quick bowl of soup, and I’ll go in your stead.” Might as well introduce my false self to the brothers and get it over with. “You can stay here and chop down trees to your heart’s content.”
He shook his head. “It’s a sickly place, with the boys coughing and sneezing. I’ve already put myself in harm’s way. No point in you breathing the putrid air.” He grimaced. “I’ll need to warn away Phineas, should he show up searching for the brothers.” At my questioning look, he explained, “Bob and Ed were to go to his place this morning to join in on the sugaring. Mrs. Gale made the arrangement in Phin’s absence.”
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