"Sometimes, truth be told, I am angry at my father," Joshua said in voice so soft that Elizabeth barely heard him.

"That he ran away?"

He turned his head toward her slowly, and blinked.

"No," he said.

"That he didn't go long ago, and take me with him."

They were quiet then. There were no other sounds in the kitchen but that of the wood hissing in the hearth, and the creak of the wind in the rafters, but it was not an awkward silence. After a while it gave way to talk, the sort of easy talk between men after a long day of hard work and a shared meal. They were that comfortable together, talking of matters of the world, far away: plague in Philadelphia, and civil unrest in France; of things closer to home: the weather, and the harvest, and signs of a hard winter to come soon after.

She might have had a share in the conversation. She knew that they would listen to her; they would answer her questions and ask her opinion. And because she knew this to be true, Elizabeth was content to sit and to watch their faces, and listen.

Chapter 55

An impatient fall nipped hard on those September nights, and the village pushed toward an early harvest. Deprived unexpectedly of her students, Elizabeth tucked up her skirts to help pick apples and pears from the trees between the barn and the corn. Finding a great deal of satisfaction in the filled baskets, she took it upon herself to join Many-Doves and Hannah as they waded in the shallow waters of the marsh, where they harvested rice and cranberries as red as rubies. On a clear fall afternoon while Falling—Day tied standing corn together with strips of rawhide to bring about the first drying of the cobs, Elizabeth picked the beans that wound up the cornstalks, pausing now and then to look over the golds and oranges and reds scattered in the forest canopy like candles against the coming night. With Hannah she went deep into the woods to gather beechnuts while squirrels chirred and barked overhead, leaping from branch to branch in shivering outrage. As she had been in the spring, Hannah became her teacher once again, pointing out the flocks of robins and chickadees gorging in preparation for their flight south, half—built muskrat shelters woven with cattails and bulrushes, a red—bellied snake working its way into an abandoned anthill where it would sleep through the cold.

She saw little of Nathaniel during the day: the season had begun, and the men went out very early with the dogs. One of them was never far from Lake in the Clouds; both of them were uneasy about leaving the women alone. Elizabeth began to understand what a great hardship it was to have Otter and Hawkeye away. For the first time she heard Falling—Day wonder out loud when her son would come home, a question which much occupied Elizabeth, along with thoughts of Richard Todd. The judge and Julian had returned from Albany with nothing to say about their trip, its purpose or success, nor had there been any sign or word of aunt Merriweather. O'Brien, who turned out to have the improbable first name of Baldwin—promptly shortened to Baldy by Axel and his regular patrons—demonstrated more interest in schnapps than he did in finding the Tory Gold, and showed no inclination to leave Paradise. And the date of the final hearing on the breach—of—promise suit approached. In an attempt to curb her anxiety, Elizabeth spent her evenings preparing for the school recital, visiting her students in their homes where she often joined in shelling beans while she listened to recitations.

Over a solitary supper—Hannah was still busy with Falling—Day—Elizabeth brought up the subject again. "Where do you think Richard could be?"

It was not a new question, and Nathaniel shrugged, as he always did.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Boots."

""Excessive worry will not resolve anything,"" Elizabeth recited.

"Right again."

"But I can't help wondering."

He sighed, and put down his fork. "O'Brien has been nosing around on the mountain."

"Oh, now that is one way to distract me. Something new to worry about. Did you catch him at it?"

"Bears ran across him on the north face."

Elizabeth looked up sharply. "Near the mine?"

He nodded. "Don't worry, he hasn't found it."

"How do you know?"

"Because he hasn't showed up here with your father and brother and Billy Kirby behind him," Nathaniel said.

"Of course, Billy is behind this, and my brother behind Billy. Lord God," Elizabeth muttered. "Does he have the right to trespass, as a treasury agent?"

"I ain't exactly sure," Nathaniel admitted. "But he got off quick enough when he ran into Bears. I'm on my way to see the judge tonight, to find out for certain."

Elizabeth busied herself clearing the table. He caught her wrist, drew her across to sit on his lap with a thump.

"I don't want you worrying overmuch, Boots. It's just another week to the hearing, and we'll be clear then. I'll stick closer to home in the meantime." He blinked at her, and then tried for a grin. "I promised you life wouldn't be boring, didn't I?"

She touched her forehead to his. "Right at this moment, I would not mind boring. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No. You can't hold your temper around your father—don't frown at me that way, Boots, you know it's true. I'll wait till Julian is down at Axel's, to catch the judge on his own."

"Suddenly an evening shucking corn sounds quite pleasant." Elizabeth began to climb off Nathaniel's lap, but found that he was not ready to let her go.