Emma trotted over the trace which had been mucky with the May rains and now was dry in the heat of early June. The sun warmed her face, robins sang all around her, and an occasional bob-white or red-winged blackbird chirped its unique sound. The green grasses and the warm sun lightened her grief.
Laura asked her to bring milk every week now, and Emma was happy to oblige. First, she had more than she could use herself or trade, and the children needed it. But more importantly, it allowed her to see Carrie every week. They talked about planting and of plans Carrie and James made for more sheds for smoking meat and for livestock they anticipated buying, and she and Carrie shared their garden progress and talked of the concoctions they would make together.
Laura met her at the door. “Good morn, neighbor.”
“Good morn, Laura.” She slid off her horse carefully so as not to spill her bucket of milk. “What a glorious day.”
“Sure is mighty nice. Come into the cabin. I have your other bucket to return and a rabbit fur for ye.”
Carrie insisted that they trade a rabbit pelt for each bucket of milk, but Emma didn’t care about a trade. She took the pelt so as not to insult her. Laura was knitting mittens and hats for James and the children with yarn she traded out at Mumford’s, so Emma told her she would make rabbit fur gloves and a hat for Carrie. The family certainly needed better winter wear than they brought from Kentucky.
The children chattered and played out in the yard. She followed Laura into the cabin and placed the milk on the table. Emma looked around, seeing Permelia napping in the corner. “Where is Carrie this fine summer morn? Out hunting?”
“You shoulda seed her. She’s digging our new privy out back.”
“Oh. That’s hard work.” She sat and Laura poured her the cup of tea they always shared on her milk delivery days.
“She likes it, I reckon.” Laura checked on Permelia then sat with Emma. “I was about to start with the honeycombs.”
“I can help with that. First, let’s drink our tea. How do ye fare?”
“I been good. I thanked the Lord none of us suffered from ague or grippe coming up here in the rain and cold, but James seemed a little sluggish this morn afore he went out to work. He and Josh plan to finish the last field today, so I hope he ain’t suffering from some ailment or ’nother.”
“Did he have a fever?”
“Don’t reckon he did. You know James and Carrie. Have to wring their thoughts outta them. They don’t never say nothing when they are ailing.”
“Anyone ta home?”
Emma perked up her head. The voice came from the yard.
Laura leapt up from her chair and talked in the doorway. “Come in, Laban. Mr. Red Fox.”
Emma stiffened.
“No need to come in. We seek James. Thought he might want to hunt some quail.”
“He can’t today. Seeding the fields out yonder. But, y’all go ahead and hunt on our ground.”
“No, ma’am. We won’t hunt unless Mr. Stratton goes with us. Thank ye kindly.”
“Whatever y’all think’s best. Godspeed.”
“A blessed day to you, ma’am.”
Laura sat back down and Emma smiled tightly at her.
“That’s the men Carrie sent down a fortnight ago. They’re good men, good manners. Don’t take from us. Always ask.”
Emma nodded, as her mouth didn’t seem to be working.
“You ready to do some candle-making?”
Emma stood, nearly tipping over her chair. Her hands trembled. She wiped them down her dress front and inhaled slightly. She gave Laura a small smile. “Where are the honeycombs? Let’s get busy.”
“Draining in buckets over here.” Laura led her to three buckets on the puncheon floor.
Emma peeked inside. “My. You have quite a bit of honey here, Laura. And lots of comb, too.”
“I’ll get the water on the fire if’n you put each comb in these here cloths.”
Emma and Laura went to their own tasks, then laid one cloth-covered comb into the hot pot. They watched the wax seep out of the cloth and float atop the water. They did this until each wrapped comb had been extracted in the warm liquid.
Together they lifted the pot from the fire and hefted it to the floor.
“This should cool afore long.” Laura put the venison stew back on its hanger over the hearth. “Hope you want to stay for some vittles.”
“Yes. I will stay a little longer.” Emma wanted to see Carrie but did not want to interrupt her work on the privy.
“Momma.” Gerta toddled into the cabin.
Emma smiled and lifted her. Gerta giggled as Emma tickled her tummy lightly. “How is this sweetness?”
“Reckon she’s hungry. Let’s get her to set on the chamber pot afore we feed this brood.”
Gerta did her business just as George and Sam ran into the cabin. “We’re powerful hungry, Momma,” George said.
“Whoa up, there. No running inside, I told y’all. Now, where’re your manners?”
Emma looked at each boy.
They each bowed.
“Good morrow, Miss Reynolds,” Sam said. George followed with his greeting.
“Good morning, Masters George and Sam.” Emma made a small curtsy in return.
Laura handed them bread and cheese. “Now, go outside and sit quiet-like and eat your meal.”
“Yes’m.”
Emma waited until the boys had left. “You must be proud of your children.”
Laura picked up a crying Permelia to nurse. “James and Carrie help me with their training. Their pa learned ’em manners for company, the like of which I never got at home.” She laughed. “I never knew all they used to do, bowing and such, and no one learned me about please and thank you kindly, ma’am or sir. I reckon I’m just a simpleton from the hills and hollers. My kin come from Virginny into Kentuck a time after the Boones and Hendersons. We was raised up poor as Job’s turkey. Our only designs were to find enough to eat. Then I met up with James and we took a hankering after each other. We hitched up and he brung me up to living high on the hog. I learnt to speak more genteel-like, having real dress material and such. It liked to turn my head aspinning. But now, I’m a reg’lar lady, I reckon.”
Emma smiled to herself. “Yes. You’re a fine person, Mistress Laura. I am glad I made all of your acquaintance and have become your friend.”
“Why, me too, Emma. Me, too. But I ken you are from a more genteel roots than us Strattons and Fletchers. From steady and hard toil, and also a bit of manners higher than James and Carrie. Less country backwoods than us. I pray we ain’t bringing you down out here in the wilderness.”
“Don’t think such a thing. I do admit to some surprises at being all alone now without my parents. Circumstances have taxed me a bit. Having no easy way to haul water, not having a helper like Widow Baines who did the heavy work for my mother back in the Hudson Valley. I needed to learn more self-sufficiency. And I like myself better for it. I like my independence, being used now to making my own dresses, trading out my talents for healing for things I need.” Her speech was interrupted by the sounds of boots clomping on the entryway.
Carrie called out, “Just cleaning up for midday, Laura.” Carrie walked in a bit later, her clothes covered in soil. She wiped sweat off her brow with a kerchief. “Good day, Emma.” Carrie smiled and her energy perked up. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Carrie.” Emma beamed her greeting.
Laura swept Carrie toward the table. “Sit ye down, honey. We got some bread I made yestidy, and Emma’s cheese. I reckon you’re powerful hungry.”
Carrie sighed. “Yes’m. Is that venison I smell?” She plopped her weary bones into the chair.
“Aye, venison for supper.”
Emma and Laura both sat with her and began sharing the victuals Laura laid out. Carrie drank her mug of water and went to the jug for more. “I have a powerful thirst, too. It’s not so hot, but the work steamed me up, for sure.” She looked to Emma. “Sorry,
I’m dirty as a hog.”
“I understand you’ve been digging a privy. You can’t be anything but covered in soil.” Emma smiled gently at her.
“Yes’m.” Carrie looked down at her appearance. She hoped Emma forgave her for sitting so dirty at the table.
“We got the wax rendered from the combs. I’ll pour them out for candles after supper.”
“James having his meal in the field?”
“I gave him and Josh some vittles to tide them over.”
“You’ll visit my garden? We had no time last you came with milk. Most of the seeds sprouted.” A lump rose in her throat at the image of Emma walking her garden.
“I’d love to see how your herbs do. Mine are greening up with the warm weather, too.”
After their midday meal, Carrie and Emma walked out to the herb garden.
“It looks quite pretty, green shoots all over,” Emma said.
Carrie puffed out her chest. “I have a green thumb, I reckon.”
“I believe you do. Will you be long at the privy digging?”
“Half done. I expect to finish by candle-lighting.”
Emma took Carrie’s hand as they strolled away from the garden. Carrie’s heart warmed. She hoped Emma would keep her hand.
“You look quite exhausted. Will you not rest a bit?”
“I’ll sit here under the shade a moment if you’ll join me. I don’t want you to soil your dress.”
“Oh, don’t mind my dress. It is a workday frock.”
They sat side by side. Carrie sighed her tiredness. “I…”
“Yes?”
“You always make my day brighten up. Like a bunch of spring flowers. Or a lamb dancing. My heart skips when you’re around.” Carrie brought Emma’s hand up and kissed her palm.
They held hands for a time. Carrie worried she had done right, not wanting to scare Emma away with her affection.
But Emma looked at her with kind and gentle ways. They talked of the weather and their work.
“Laura tells me James looked peaked this morning before going out to the fields.”
“Oh? I didn’t catch how he looked. I was busy getting ready to dig, I expect. I hope he’s not ailing. If he is, I’ll come for you and you can help dose him.”
“I doubt you need worry. We tend to get sickness toward more hot days, when the mosquitoes buzz around more. It’s been too early for those nasty pests, thank heavens. I’ll help you make a tonic against the pioneer shakes that come on in the summer.”
“You know best.” Carrie looked deeply into Emma’s eyes and her head naturally swayed toward Emma as she stared at her dark eyes. She caught herself. Was I going to kiss her? Good heavens! Carrie jerked back. “I best be getting back to my work. The daylight’s burning.” She helped Emma up from the ground, but they did not hold hands on the walk back to the cabin and Titan.
“I hope you all will come to the barn-raising bee.”
“James said we would. I look forward to it, especially if you’re coming.”
“A barn-raising?” Josh waved his arms, hopping around.
Carrie straightened up from cutting grass for hay and wiped sweat from her face. “At Mr. and Mrs. Forresters’ on the morrow. Like at home, but they call it a bee. All the neighbors gather and we all work together. The barn gets raised quick as greased lightning. Then the Forresters feed us high on the hog, we break out the fiddles, and cut a rug.” Carrie felt as happy about it as the boys.
“Do we help?” Sam asked.
“The young’uns have their own games while we older ones work and the mommas cook food and watch you.”
“I never been to a bee.”
“No, I ’spect you haven’t, Sammy. You were too young when we went to the last one down home.” It was that same bee at Wilcox’s when Moose had talked to James about courting her. James told her the next day what Moose wanted.
Moose had been extra attentive to her at preaching on Sabbath Day once or twice. She put up a brick wall. Quick. Moose was a nice man, a little given to tall tales, but enterprising, and would have been a good provider. Yet, her heart would just not pitty-pat for him, or any of the others that had come to James before, like William Daring. Carrie winced to call to mind that talk with James.
Did they not have eyes? Could they not see for themselves what she was? A woman in men’s duds, given to men’s labors, and shying away from the house with its toils. Mayhap Moose and William took a hankering after her kind. Mayhap they reckoned they could change her into a sweet young thing, dress her up, and have her obey like the marriage vows said. If that was their way, it was for certain not hers. Moose wed Nancy Tucker after she shunned him, his longing to be hitched up so strong. At the time, she felt great relief he would not come courting her.
“Will it be fun?” Josh broke into her ponderings.
“I reckon. You’ll find all the other boys and girls from these parts. Make new friends. Eat good food.”
“Sweets?”
Carrie laughed. “Aye, some farmwife or two will bring a pan-dowdy.” She continued to huff with the task of grass cutting. After a while she said, “Getting toward candle-lighting. You boys go help your momma with firewood and tote in some water for her. I’ll finish with this row and we can rake it on the day after the bee.”
“Yes’m.” They dropped their grass into a pile and trotted toward the cabin.
The talk at supper that night was all “the bee this,” “the bee that.” Laura fretted about what to cook. James cogitated on what tools he might should bring. All but the little girls were in a whirl at the prospects of the bee, and Carrie’s heart lightened at their excited talk. She worried that the boys wouldn’t get any shut-eye at all.
The cabin did go quiet shortly after all were abed. Hard work made for good slumber. Her noggin would not quiet down, though, with ideas of seeing Emma. The giggles, moans, and rustling of covers coming from Laura and James’s bed didn’t help her.
The next day woke them early to finish their chores with the ox and horses and eat a quick breakfast. Then they hitched up the ox to the wagon, with James’s tools, Laura’s contribution of wheaten bread, and all the children, including Laura holding the baby, stowed in it. She and James sat on the bench up front while the boys chattered away with their momma.
By the time they arrived at the Forresters’, five wagons and a number of horses were tethered around the new cabin. They hopped out and the boys ran to find the other children.
Elizabeth Forrester met them and helped Laura with Permelia, taking the bread.
The talk was that Elizabeth was with child. Five farmwives cooed over Elizabeth and asked how she fared.
On her way to the barn site, carrying an axe and a wedge, Carrie overheard one woman giving advice. “Be sure to keep away from black cats. And be certain you do as much hard work as you can. It will harden you up for the throes of childbirth.” The women all fretted over Elizabeth.
Carrie sighed and said a little prayer for Elizabeth.
The men gathered with tools in hand and Blanton apportioned the work.
“Y’all get into three teams. One team will prepare the logs, one will dig the foundation, and the third will construct a plank door. Choose up. The logs are waiting over yonder.” He pointed to a large stack of felled timber.
Carrie chose the digging team, with Moose and another pioneer.
The pioneer, dressed in old trousers and a dirty buckskin shirt, looked her over. “I go by Conner. You gonna dig, miss?”
“Aye, I have done such work a sufficient plenty times around our farm, both in Kentucky and now here. My name’s Caroline Fletcher. I live down at Moss Creek with my kin, the Strattons.”
He grinned and Carrie kenned an unbelieving attitude in him. She’d knock that grin off his face soon enough. She shouldered James’s shovel and set out with the two men to the site that had been pegged on the corners for the foundation. She took a deep breath and shoveled the soft earth and threw it ten feet beyond the site. She
peeked a look at Mr. Conner, whose grin was fading on the wiseacre’s face.
The work did go like greased lightning. The foundation dug, the men notching logs laid them down and the walls rose to a height where they had to roll them up other logs set at an angle against the lower wall. One team stood atop the wall on ladders and hefted up the logs to set them into their chinks, while another team brought the notched logs in a steady stream. Carrie worked with the team atop, next to Moose on the adjacent wall, hauling the logs up on ropes as they rolled up from below. She wasn’t the kind to be afeared of heights.
The barn-building went easier than their cabin, not needing a crib or a fireplace or windows. In a short while, the walls stood ten feet. Elizabeth clanged an iron pot for midday meal, and Carrie wiped sweat from her forehead and hopped down.
“Water.” Moose hopped down next to her and went for the water bucket, where other men drank deeply from wooden cups. They both gulped thirstily and made their way to the planks set up with cheeses, bread, venison stew, and dried fruits.
Emma strode up to her and handed her some bread, stew, and cheese on a wooden trencher.
“Thank ye kindly.” Carrie sat on the ground. Emma sat beside her with her own trencher.
“What you been at while I was log raising?”
“I looked after running children.” Emma smiled.
“I reckon I would rather raise logs than that.”
They both laughed.
“I enjoyed it. They played tag for a while. Some boys played mumbly-peg. Girls played at housewife and laid out a house using leaves on the ground. Laura and Mrs. Conner looked after the wee ones. Mrs. Conner’s the one who nursed Lucas Ford’s babe before he was adopted out. She’s a kind woman. Loves wee ones.” Emma suddenly took Carrie’s hand. “Oh, my. You’re bleeding.”
“What?” Carrie looked down at her hand in Emma’s. “Just a splinter.”
“Looks painful. Let me get my kit and come take it out for you.” Emma stood and walked into the cabin before Carrie could stop her. It didn’t really pain her. Emma was overcautious, just like Laura.
Emma took her left hand and poked the splinter out with a sewing needle.
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