“I told her I was homesteading in Pepin, Wisconsin. That’s when she said her childhood friend, Noah Whitmore, was also homesteading in Pepin.”
“She knew Noah Whitmore?”
“Yes, they grew up going to the same Quaker meeting in Pennsylvania. And she decided to write to him to gain a character reference for me.”
“It’s amazing how God orchestrates matters.” Emma believed this, yet felt the old tug of disappointment. She’d prayed fervently for her fiancé Jonathan to survive the war. But evidently God had denied her request. Someday she hoped she could accept that with peace. She drew in a slow breath, wishing the brittle feeling around her heart would leave her.
“I suppose,” he said.
His uncertain tone caught her attention. What disappointment had he sustained? She brushed away this sudden sympathy and went on. “Since you are here with your girls, Noah Whitmore must’ve given you a good character reference.”
“I am very grateful for my girls.” Mason glanced with obvious affection at the two little ones.
The paternal glance softened her resistance again. She would have to be careful around this man, so as not to mislead him. She’d given all her love to Jonathan and she had nothing more to give.
“Some man kilt Charlotte’s mama and she couldn’t hear no more,” Birdie said. “The doctor say she ’sterical deaf.”
Shocked, Emma glanced at Mason. Was this true?
His jawline had tightened.
Emma could tell he did not like this being spoken of. And she didn’t blame him. “Bad things happen in this world,” she commented, trying to bring the uncomfortable topic to an end.
The little girl nodded solemnly and began to sign to Charlotte.
Without looking at Emma, Mason said, “Birdie, please don’t sign what I’m going to say now to Charlotte. It upsets her when people talk about it.” Then he did look at Emma. “The doctor called Charlotte’s condition hysterical deafness. He said he couldn’t find anything wrong with the structure of her ears, inside or out. We fear that Charlotte’s mother was murdered and perhaps Charlotte witnessed it. That’s what Mrs. Hawkins was told by the person who brought Charlotte to the orphanage.” He appeared to want to say more but he didn’t.
The hair on the nape of Emma’s neck prickled at the horror this sweet little girl might have witnessed. Emma completed his thought. “I will not speak of this.”
“I think it’s best for the girls if we don’t. People somehow transfer what a person’s family has suffered to them—as if they have been judged, as Mrs. Ashford said.” He glanced downward. “Will you remember that, Birdie?” he asked gently.
“Yes, sir!” Birdie said. “I only said it ’cause I can see Miss Emma is a fine lady.”
This uncomfortable conversation ended as they turned the bend and ahead lay her sister’s farm. Judith was doing laundry in the shade of an old oak tree beside the cabin.
“Judith!” Emma called out with sincere relief. “You’ll never guess who this is!” Emma made an attempt at teasing, trying to lighten the moment. She hoped Judith’s husband, Asa, would appear and relieve her of Mason Chandler. She wanted to be alone to sort out her unexpected reactions to him. Or better yet, talk it over with Judith in private.
* * *
Hoping to distance himself from Emma, Mason wished Asa Brant would appear and he could claim his livestock and then head on to his place. He wanted to be alone to sort out his unforeseen response to Miss Emma Jones. But he glued a smile onto his face and pulled up all his reserves of courtesy.
Emma led him toward Asa’s wife, who appeared flustered at his finding her in the midst of the weekly chore. Of course, he knew she was Emma’s twin sister, but they did not favor one another. Judith had brown hair and eyes to match, and possessed none of Emma’s startling beauty.
Then blessedly, the familiar tall and tanned, dark-haired Asa Brant stepped out of his barn. His face lifted into a welcoming smile and he hurried forward, his hand outstretched.
Emma continued on toward her sister.
Dropping the baggage, Mason gripped Asa’s hand, once again grateful to find another person who remained a friend—so far. “I’m just on my way home and wanted to stop and get my cattle. I hear I have a calf.”
“Yes, both of us increased our cattle this spring.” Asa beamed.
“Asa, 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