“How did he end up with you?” she asked.
“I tracked you to the Beaton house and he was suddenly there. He had already heard Mrs. Beaton and the others tell me about your stay and where you were headed. He even had that puppy and a little bag and politely told me he would go with me. I said no and he never said a word. Just walked away. Then I was leaving and just happened to look behind me to see him following.”
“Oh dear.”
“‘Oh dear’ is right. As I told Matthew, I did everything short of shooting him to make him go back, but he kept on coming.”
“He can be stubborn.”
“Bullheaded.”
Abbie laughed and nodded. “So you gave in.”
“Not much choice. He was company too, and I had little of that in the last few years. He even got me telling him stories at night because I was told you did it.”
“Ah. So, of course you had to.” She shook her head. “He is going to be a challenge to raise.”
“What he is is smart and a survivor.”
“He is only five years old.”
“He is smart and he is a survivor,” he repeated. “Never forget that about him.”
“It is a good thing, miss,” said Mrs. O’Neal from beside her. “Doesn’t often show so young, but bet the war drew it out. And your brother is right. It is a good thing to keep in mind about the boy. It is what he is deep at his core. Like our Iain,” she added softly.
Abbie thought about it for a while but soon got caught up in the men’s talk. They included her brother without pause and she could see he appreciated it. She started to wonder how he had gotten out of the service he had been forced into.
“How did you get out of the Confederate hold?”
“It was Night Riders who took me, or so they liked to call themselves. Butchering ba”—he blushed and continued—“pigs.” He dragged a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Fortunately, it seems they just wanted someone to do all the work they hated. I mucked up after their horses, cared for the beasts, which I didn’t much mind as they treated them poorly, and even had to cook a lot. Then one of them caught me trying to free a young woman they had grabbed. I killed him, freed her, and then ran for my life. Knew they’d find the man, so had to get as far away as I could. Stole one of their horses I was particularly fond of and just rode.”
“Where did the woman go?”
“She headed straight for the town not far from our camp. Told her it might not be the safest place but she was determined. Figured she knew someone there she felt would protect her.”
“So you aren’t a deserter?”
“Don’t think so. Never signed or swore to anything but that won’t necessarily stop someone from trying to try me for it.”
“I feared they would have made you fight in the war for them.”
“They didn’t do much fighting in the war,” he said, disgust thick in his voice. “They attacked innocents, stole money and anything else they could get their hands on, and raped the women they found. They were outlaws wearing the shield of war.”
“There were a lot of those, especially up this way,” said Matthew.
“Some of them were even disowned by the army they supported,” Reid said and shrugged.
“Sad, but I think a lot of them will just go into straight outlawry once the war ends.”
Reid shrugged again. “They are little better than that now.”
“At least you are free of all that now.”
“I just wish I could have been there when they came to burn the house.”
“I had a lot of help.” Abbie briefly smiled at Matthew then looked back at her brother. “I am sorry about what you had to find but we couldn’t stay long enough to put out the fire and have a proper burial.”
“I know that. I buried them. In the orchard near the child they lost.”
“Thank you.”
“Ye have an orchard?” asked Matthew’s brother Robbie. “What sort?”
“Apples. Two kinds,” Reid replied.
Robbie limped down the table to sit next to Reid. To Abbie’s surprise the two men were soon deep into discussion. She eavesdropped for only a few moments and then decided they knew what they were discussing, but they had lost her early on in the discussion. All she knew was that it had something to do with cider. What mattered to her was that Reid looked interested, even eager.
Seeing that Mrs. O’Neal was getting up, Abbie moved to help clear off the table. They put out the stewed fruit and cream plus small bowls. Abbie dished out some for Ned and Noah then returned to a seat near Matthew to have some of her own.
“What are they talking so seriously about?” asked Matthew with a nod toward Robbie and Reid.
“I am not sure. I believe it has to do with the apple orchard my father planted and cider.”
“Ah. Robbie has been eager to try his hand at cider making but the apples are not always easy to come by. A steady supply was needed.”
“Well, we have that, but that is about all there is on the old land. Oh, there is the barn too, I think. Or the fire could have reached that.”
“It didn’t because your brother found your message on George’s stall. So, I have to assume the building was still standing. Care to go for a walk this afternoon?”
“That would be nice if I can impose on someone to watch the boys.”
After lunch was done, Abbie discovered it was not difficult at all to get someone to watch out for the boys. She wandered off to go to the barn and milk the goat and wondered why Mrs. O’Neal and Emily had not even hesitated to consider what they had to do but said yes and wished her a good afternoon. She told herself to not try and read some conspiracy in it all and greeted the goat.
She was just stepping out of the barn when Reid walked up to her and took the pail of milk she held. “So how close are you and Matthew?”
Abigail blinked and frantically wondered why he asked, if she and Matthew had given themselves away in some way. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is how close are you? Friends or more?”
“Well, I believe we are friends. If we are more he hasn’t said so. Why are you interested?”
“I might have a chance to turn the old place into a new and profitable one with some care and help. Robbie wants to try his hand at making cider. We have an orchard. Perfect match. Well, if I can prove I own the land.”
“You can. I have the papers.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Did not expect it to be so easy. See, Robbie has been searching his brain for something he might make a living at since he got hurt. He can’t do his weaving anymore because he can’t stand at the loom for long and, at the moment, the fingers on one hand are not as nimble as they used to be.”
“What happened to him?”
“Sort of what happened to me except they didn’t take him. Tried, but he fought and they beat him senseless before his brothers could get to him.” He shook his head. “Broke his leg in so many places he is lucky he just limps, and they stomped on his hands. He says that made him feel they knew enough about him to know what he did and they went for his hands on purpose. So I thought I’d give his idea a chance.”