I can’t thank you enough for taking care of them. I’ll pay you back—”
“Not a word about that.” Asa forestalled him with an upraised hand. “What are friends for?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Mason glimpsed another little girl, a blonde about Charlotte’s age, who had come out of Asa’s cabin and who was staring at his two little girls. Then he noted a boy with shaggy brown hair around eight or nine years old standing near the barn door.
Mason paused, wondering who they were.
“Before we take care of the cows, I need to introduce you to my wife. Or, I should say, my family,” Asa said with obvious pride. Asa led Mason to the woman who was now his wife, standing near the little girl. And the little boy hurried to Asa’s side. Asa rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Acute envy caught around Mason’s heart. If he hadn’t been called away, he would be settled now with Emma as his wife. He wouldn’t have spent the whole growing season away. Leave it to his father to interrupt and bring disaster to his only son. Mason forced himself to relax his face, tightened by regret. He tried to focus as Asa introduced him to Judith and to the two children, Lily and Colton, whom they had evidently taken in.
He noted that Lily continued to stare at Charlotte and Birdie. Perhaps the little girl was just shy. He hoped that explained her lack of welcome.
Emma stooped to eye level with Asa’s girl. “Lily, say hello to Charlotte and Birdie. They will be your new neighbors. You can play with them.”
Lily turned her face into Judith’s skirt.
“I guess Lily is a bit shy today. But you three will get to know each other over time,” Emma said gently.
Mason was grateful for her attempt. It was obvious that Miss Emma Jones was not only beautiful but kind. He needed to go before he revealed even a hint of the sadness that had begun years before when his father had changed for the worse. And his secret now separated him from everyone, not just Emma Jones. “I need to get home, Asa. I want to get the house straightened up and everything settled before evening comes.”
“I’d come and help you,” Asa apologized, “but I’m right in the middle of something.”
“I don’t need any help,” Mason said.
“Yes, you do,” Asa replied. “You have that luggage to carry and the girls and the cattle. I can bring them over later—”
“I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“I would come along,” Asa’s wife said, motioning toward the laundry tubs, “but I’m right in the middle of this week’s clothes.”
“I don’t expect any help,” Mason said again. He held up his hands and stepped backward. “You all have your own work to do.”
“I’ll come and help,” Emma said. “I can drive a few cows.”
She surprised Mason into silence. He wanted to study her face to find out why she’d offered help, but of course, he couldn’t.
“It’s settled, then,” Asa said, sounding relieved. “Emma and Colton will lead the cattle, Mason.”
“And you’ll come back here for supper,” Judith said. “We have plenty and would be glad to have your company.”
“That’s right. We insist,” Asa agreed.
After the slights and reflected shame he’d suffered over the past few months, Mason felt humbled by their warm welcome. He only hoped no one here ever discovered the truth about his father, how he’d lived and where he’d died. That might be a bitter pill too big to swallow even by friends.
Soon Mason, still burdened with the baggage, walked beside Emma with Colton.
“I’ll box up your chickens and bring them over when I’m done!” Asa called after them.
Mason called back his thanks. The road turned to the north at the beginning of Asa’s property, going around it and leading to Mason’s homestead.
Emma and Colton carried prodding staffs they barely needed. The cow and young heifer strolled along, pausing occasionally to nibble grass. Mason wished he could hurry them, but no one hurried a milk cow. A contented cow gave more milk, and he would need it. Without a crop, he would depend much on his chickens and cows to keep the girls fed this winter.
“I’m sorry to trouble you,” Mason murmured to Emma as they rounded another bend in the road.
“It’s no trouble. I was raised on a farm. I like cows.”
He didn’t know what to say to this. “You’re too pretty to be herding cattle” didn’t seem appropriate. And they were certainly well chaperoned with the silent boy, and Birdie chattering in word and sign, and Charlotte, as always, guarded and silent. All the words he wished to say to Miss Emma must be held back. And she probably didn’t want to hear them, anyway.
“That little girl back there didn’t like us,” Birdie said. “She wouldn’t talk to us.”
The boy on the other side of the cattle said nothing in explanation.
“Some girls and boys are shy with strangers...people they are just meeting,” Emma suggested.
But Mason doubted it.
Birdie considered this. “Maybe,” she allowed. “Is this a nice place to live?”
“Yes, it is. I’m the schoolteacher here,” Emma said.
Oh, Mason thought. Another indication that this lady’s situation had altered. Just like his had. His hopes about her dimmed further. A woman with a paying job would not need a husband.
Birdie’s eyes widened. “You’re the teacher? Charlotte and me were supposed to start school this year in Illinois.”
“Oh?” Emma’s voice sounded a bit uncertain.
And no wonder. Mason had been at a loss how Mrs. Hawkins thought his girls could attend school. After all, Charlotte wouldn’t be able to hear the teacher.
Again, Birdie’s fingers were busy talking to Charlotte.
Charlotte replied in kind and appeared to be scolding her friend.
“Oh, Charlotte still thinks she can’t go to school,” Birdie added.
Exactly, Mason commented mentally.
“Children need to go to school,” Emma said. “All children.”
Mason looked away. His little sister would only be the recipient of stares and unkind words. And he wouldn’t let that happen.
Only three-quarters of a mile separated the two homesteads, so very soon he glimpsed his place—the sturdy log barn and cabin. After all the years of war and then wandering, he had once again a home to return to and now he had his sister and Birdie, too. His heart twinged at the thought. He was glad, but when he cast a sideways glance at the lady near him, he was sad. He’d
