Daniel treated me to an unhurried handshake and a rueful smile before leading lucky Mary Root in a reel. My brother looked glad to see me. After complaining about his and Daniel’s recent spell of poor suppers and telling me how much he missed my stews and biscuits, he ambled Marian’s way to see if he could be made useful. Bob and Ed Welds introduced themselves, giving no indication of suspecting my true identity, though I’d known them all my life. They just looked happy that I was willing to listen as they explained their recent sickness. Given the account’s gruesome details, the other guests could be forgiven for keeping their distance from the haggard brothers.
The cabin had been emptied of its rustic furnishings for the occasion. Most of the guests danced, but a few simply leaned against the wall and enjoyed the music. Phineas played exceptionally well. Perhaps Rachel thought so, too, for she deigned to bring him a refreshment between songs and appeared almost ready to deliver a compliment.
Phineas, predictably, ruined the moment. “Why are you ignoring your betrothed, Miss Welds? I hope you’re not so fickle you’d set poor Freddy aside the second more strapping young men with actual whiskers show up.”
She snatched the half-empty glass out of his hand.
“I wasn’t finished.”
“You are now.” She looked tempted to pour the contents over his head but reconciled her ire with a tart “Just so you know, your cravat’s wrinkled.”
He tucked the violin under his chin. “Save your complaints for my valet.”
She turned sharply but promptly whirled back around, hands to her hair. He’d shot out his bow, lightning fast, and tapped her crown, like a fairy swatting an unsuspecting mortal with its wand. Smirking, he returned the bow to the strings and merely said, “Whoops,” before tackling a tavern ditty.
The cabin seemed to swell with merriment and noise. It was as if each pioneer, for so long living in isolation, had saved up his or her spirits and conversation and now unplugged the cache so that it spilled forth, in words and laughter, with abandonment.
I caught snatches of the men’s conversations: the importance of a sawmill and gristmill, plans for crops, and dealings with the Holland Land Company. And I learned even more from the women, for I danced with them. This posed no difficulty. One couldn’t be an older sister to two girls and not know how to lead. I met Dorothy, who described the black bear that took off with her hog a fortnight ago, and Ann, who predicted a bad season for fever and ague and gave me her thoughts on the benefits of bleeding and botanic dosing. Caroline, a fine dancer, agreed to take a turn around the floor twice. She wanted to teach and had an ambitious plan to open a district school in the near future.
A couple of hours into the dancing, I stole a few minutes to catch my breath, sip a cup of ale, and mull over what I was learning from my new acquaintances. Phineas, taking a break from playing, lounged with me in the corner.
Gid squeezed through the crowd. When Rachel also appeared, he intercepted her with a bow. “May I have the next dance?”
She gazed at him steadily. “I—I don’t think so.”
Color suffused his cheeks. Unfortunately, the press of guests made escape impossible, and they stood in tense proximity, turned from each other, until a part in the gathering permitted my brother to slink away.
Was it disinterest or lingering anger that prompted this refusal? I studied Rachel but only detected resignation in her fair face. She looked done with Gid. Maybe turning down his invitation had been her means to clarify that.
Phineas had also witnessed the exchange. With a shake of his head, he replaced his frown with a smile and called, “Oh, Rachel Welds!”
Eyebrows raised, she approached.
“Better nab a dance with Freddy while you can and remind the young ladies he’s not available.” He looked at me bemusedly. “Upon my soul, for such a young’un, you’re drawing some pretty pairs of eyes tonight. Didn’t expect the maids of the valley to find you quite so interesting.”
“Not just interesting.” Rachel seized my hand. “Interested.” Ostensibly to me, she continued, with considerable feeling, “The fact is, you listen, Freddy. You actually ask questions. Most men simply talk and talk and talk.”
“Ah,” I murmured. “A hit.”
He cringed. “More like a mortal wound.” With a plunging motion, he slid the bow in his armpit, groaned piteously, and staggered.
Rachel didn’t find this amusing.
“Music!”
Phin peered around the packed room, searching for the source of the demand. “What shall it be?” Then a pointed look at Rachel: See? I ask questions.
“‘The Blacksmith’s Daughter’!”
“Oh, I love that girl.” His bow hit the strings with a pounce.
I led Rachel into the reel and smiled at her sour expression. “I’m waiting for you and Phin to come to blows.”
“He’s incredibly irritating. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone quite so irritating. I’d like to plant him a facer.”
“Don’t let his teasing put you in a pucker and ruin your night.”
“Ha.” She turned her withering scorn in the violinist’s direction. “As if he could.”
“Good. Because you’re supposed to be finding me the most compelling conversationalist.”
“Doesn’t take much to claim victory in that sport. Consider the lack of competition.”
*
By the end of the evening, I gave up dancing and drinking. My feet hurt. So did my head.
Daniel found me in the corner by the loft ladder. “What’s this? The party’s prime favorite playing wallflower?”
My pulse beat faster at his appearance. “I’m recovering.” I patted the spot next to me.
With a heavy sigh, he situated himself on the floor.
Phineas had struck up a patriotic tune, and the guests were raising their bottles in tribute to our nation. More than one face wore the soppy, weepy-eyed look that so often accompanied drunkenness. “I expect they’ll be tarrying until morning.”
“Passed out until then, certainly.” He folded his arms, his expression turning thoughtful. “Strange how so many came out this way because they longed for wilderness, wildness, but now all they can talk about is how quickly they hope to tame it.”
“And make everything civilized. I’ve been thinking the same thing. It’ll look like Middleton around here before we know it.”
“Sadly deforested.”
“You and your trees. What’ve you been whittling lately?”
“Between helping Gideon clear for a house and widen a road?” He snorted. “Not much.”
“Ah. ‘Not much,’ meaning at least a little something.”
“Actually, I’ve been helping your brother make a gift for Mrs. Gale.” At my expectant look, he said, “You’ll see it soon.” Then, darkly: “And stop making fun of my whittling.”
Smiling, I patted his leg. He stilled, then shot me a wide-eyed glance, which only amused me further. “I’m glad you’re a whittler. I can’t wait to see what beautiful things await me in my future, all inscribed with my initials.”
“Spiles, Frederick. Many, many spiles.”
*
Marian and Phineas’s gathering ushered in a warm spell, and on Monday at the logging bee, when Gid’s lot was graced with some of the same men who had helped fill Friday’s music-teeming cabin, I got the sense, in the way they studied the blue sky, that the farmers of the Genesee Valley were anxious for spring. It was time to improve their properties, carve out of the forests another fifteen acres, and plow and plant wherever they could between the stumps and roots. Springtime meant hope, and they turned their trusting young faces to the morning sun, as flowers do.
Despite their obligations to their land and families, they seemed happy to help Gid, and Gid was obviously thrilled with how quickly they began clearing the thick timber. Mutual assistance was a time-honored practice in Middleton, too, but here it was so desperately needed, for to eke out of the forest a meager field required an incredible amount of effort. When the time came, for each of these helpers, my brother would return the favor.
I had borrowed one of Phin’s axes for the occasion and chose some youngish maples on which to practice. The stand’s distance from the others reassured me. Any mistake on my part wouldn’t result in a tree careening onto someone’s head. I was especially concerned about the children, though Rachel was doing a fine job of keeping them occupied across the stream, out of harm’s way, while Mrs. Gale served food and cider.
Felling trees was difficult work, especially at first, and when I spotted Daniel, I called him over to check my stance and method.