The boys were less phlegmatic. They liked it where they were.
Will, at the age of seventeen, was courting a girl. He had apparently been planning to do something definitive about securing her affections, but the carpenter he worked for had reduced his hours, making it impossible for him to support a wife on what he was bringing in. Moving away would only compound his problems, and he was sure that the girl would find someone else if he wasn’t there to nurture the romance. Lewis hadn’t known how serious he was until his announcement that they were on their way to Elizabethtown.
“I’m not going.”
“Now, Will,” Lewis said. “Your mother needs your help.”
“I don’t care, I’m not going.”
“If Will’s not going, then is it possible for me to stay here too?” Moses asked.
Lewis reflected that he would never have dared go against his father’s dictates when he was a young lad, but times were different now and young people more apt to make their own way. He sneaked a sideways glance at Luke, who was sitting with wide eyes at the end of the table. Luke would like to side with his brothers, he could see, but he didn’t have quite enough courage to say so.
“Are you sure this is the girl you want?” he asked.
It was a question Will hadn’t been prepared for. Lewis watched conflicting emotions chase across the boy’s face — confusion, defiance, fear, a little pride.
“Yes.”
“Well, let me think on this. Maybe we can come up with a plan that will suit us all.” He had been considering his idea before he had even told them they were relocating, but he wanted to discuss it privately with Betsy first. He didn’t know if she would agree or not.
He waited until the boys had wolfed down their suppers and Martha had been put to bed. He poured out the two precious cups of tea that were left in the pot on the stove and took one to Betsy.
“What’s on your mind, Thaddeus?” After so many years of marriage, she could tell when he was brewing a notion.
“I’ve been thinking about this move. I know you’re still not well, and I’m not happy with making you shift households again.”
“I knew what it was going to be like when you first started preaching,” she said. “I have no complaint.”
He smiled at her. “I know, you never complain, and I’m grateful for it. But the boys are a problem, too.”
“I had no idea Will was so serious about this girl. Aren’t they awfully young?”
“Not really. They just seem young to us. Do you think Will is man enough to run a farm?”
“A farm? What farm? Where?”
“There’s a place in North Marysburgh. The farmer wants to get out of farming, but he doesn’t want to let the land go. He’s willing to rent it out, and there’s a nice house on the place.”
“You mean it for Will to run?”
“And for all of you to live there. I’d be willing to sign the lease if Will agrees to have you there. It’s a good farm. If he applies himself, he can grow enough to pay the rent, and with a place that’s been well-established for so many years there should be no difficulty feeding you all. It’s not like starting out back in the clearings. If the two younger boys pitch in, there’s no reason it wouldn’t work.”
“And you’d go off to Leeds?”
“I’d get back as often as I could. The problem is, with everything in such a state of upheaval, I’m apt to be there for a year, somewhere else for a year, then somewhere else again the year after that.”
“And where would you live?”
He shrugged. “I’m on the road and staying in other people’s houses most of the time anyway. What do I need a home for? The thing is, Betsy, I don’t think you’re ever going to be well until you can settle in one place for a time. And if we set Will up, the girl can take over with Martha and give you a hand in the house. I’ll be sorry to be without you, but I’d rather have you away from me and getting better than with me and sick all the time.”
She hesitated, and then spoke her mind, as he expected she would. “The only problem I see is whether or not the girl will be happy with it. It will be her household, really, and I don’t know her well enough to tell whether or not we can live under the same roof.”
“Then we’d better get to know her, hadn’t we?” Privately he thought Betsy was overstating the case somewhat. Many a family welcomed a daughter-in-law into the fold with little bother. It was what his own sisters had done — married and gone to live with their husband’s folks. Occasionally there might be minor conflicts, but these were usually sorted out with a little compromise. He knew of a couple of cases where the issue was resolved by the simple expedient of building more house, so that everyone could have their privacy. He was sure everything would be fine.
Abigail Howe, known to all as Nabby, turned out to be a pretty, seemingly tractable young girl, who was obviously smitten with Will. She was excited at the prospect that the way to marriage was being smoothed so handily, and stated that she was perfectly willing to share a kitchen with her mother-in-law.
“It will be wonderful to have someone there to give me advice,” she said. “I’m not really confident about running a household all by myself. I’m sure I’ll need all the help you’re willing to give me, Mother Lewis.”
She couldn’t have said anything that would have mollified Betsy more.
Marrying his eldest son was one of the last things Lewis did before he left the Hallowell Circuit. With the boys’ help, and a wagon borrowed from a neighbour, they had moved their household effects into the small but comfortable house the farmer had built on his hundred-acre holding. It was decided that Martha was to sleep in the little slip room off the kitchen with Betsy, Will and Nabby would have the bigger main floor room, and the two boys would take the attic. The kitchen was large and spacious, with a good stove, and there was even a small front parlour, although they had no furniture for it. The farmer had not neglected his outbuildings. There was an excellent barn for the cow and a snug henhouse with a thriving flock of chickens. The orchard was well-established with mature trees. They would have apples, pears, and plums in abundance, and a row of currant bushes encircled the kitchen garden off the back stoop. Nearly everything they needed was right at hand, and if Will could produce a good crop of wheat, there would be money in hand, too.
Lewis did as much as he could to help Betsy get the household settled before the wedding. There would be no time afterward. He would leave for Elizabethtown the day after the ceremony.
Lewis had been quite proud of the little farm he had leased until he saw Nabby’s father’s place. The Howes’ three-hundred-acre farm was in full production — there were twenty head of cattle, a large flock of sheep, and a huge orchard. The house had not one parlour, but two, and the Howes had furniture for both of them. Lewis wondered that Howe could manage it all, for he had no sons, just five girls — two older than Nabby, two younger.
“The two oldest were married last year,” the farmer told Lewis. “Nabby’s been in a fever to get married ever since. “ He laughed a little. “I hope she’s wedding because she likes your son and not just because she wanted a new dress and all the attention the other two got.”
“They both seem quite sincere,” Lewis replied, but the statement took him a little aback.
“Oh, now I’m just joshing you, Preacher. Although I must admit it was a surprise to me to hear that you’ve