“Oh, I hope you do want to hear it,” Curiosity said. “Because I surely do.”

When the next contraction had passed, Jennet blew a damp hair out of her face and agreed that, yes, it would divert her to hear that letter read aloud. Elizabeth opened it and adjusted a candle.

She read:

“Now that your half brother and his mither have settled in at Carryckcastle, I suppose it’s time I keep my promise and write and tell what there is to say. Truth be tolt, tis no an easy task. Ye’ll want to hear guid tidings, and there’s little comfort in the tale I’ve got to tell.

“He’s a slink mannie, is Luke. Tall and braw and bonnie, and slee as a fox. Cook calls him luvey and bakes him tarts wi the last o the pippins. The Earl bought him a mare the likes o which ye’ll no see in all Scotland, as black as the devil and that smart too. The lasses come up the brae—”

Jennet drew in a long gasping breath in response to something Curiosity was doing. Then she said, “Go on, please.”

“The lasses come up the brae for no guid reason but to sneiter and bat their eyelashes at him, and then run awa when Giselle catches sight o them. Even my mother smiles at Luke for all she looks daggers at me and makes me wear shoes….”

The scream started low and spiraled up. Elizabeth dropped the letter and positioned herself behind Jennet to support her shoulders, and it took all her strength to steady her.

Hannah was talking to everyone at once. Just a moment more and Yes, see here and Curiosity, do you and Take a deep breath.

It was not meant for her, but Elizabeth took a deep breath even as Jennet went limp in her arms.

“It’s all right,” Hannah said. “She’s just fainted. Curiosity?”

“Just another inch, and—there. Jennet!”

Jennet stirred, and Elizabeth took a rag from the bowl beside her and ran the cool water over the younger woman’s mouth.

“Wake up now,” Curiosity said. “It’s time to have this baby. The next contraction you got to push for all you worth.”

Jennet nodded wearily, leaned forward with Elizabeth’s help, and took the rope made of braided linen and tied to the bedpost.

“It’s starting,” Hannah said. “Now.”

Jennet heaved a deep breath and pushed, and with that brought a son into the world.

Much later, when spirits were high and Luke had come in to sit with his wife and youngest child, Elizabeth remembered the letter. She found it under the bed and held it out to him.

He looked up from his examination of the infant’s crumpled red face. “What is that?”

“Read this aloud to her,” Elizabeth said. “I think you’ll both appreciate it.”

Luke began to read, almost reluctantly at first, and then with growing interest. When he had reached the point where Elizabeth stopped, Hannah and Curiosity turned toward him to listen.

“I must be fair and report that Luke is a hard worker and there’s naught mean-spirited in him, but he’s an awfu tease and worse luck he’s guid at it, in Scots and English both. I’ll admit that he’s no so donnert as he first seems, for all his quiet ways. It would suit me much better were he witless, for my father has decided that since my guid cousin kens French and Latin (taught to him by his grandmother in Canada, he says, and what grandmother teaches Latin, I want to know?) I must learn them too, never mind that I speak Scots and English and some of the old language too, having learned it from Mairead the dairy maid. But the Earl would no listen and so I sit every afternoon wi Luke, no matter how fine the weather. And just this morn I heard some talk o’ mathematics and philosophy, to make my misery complete.

“He’s aye hard to please, is Luke, but when he’s satisfied wi my progress, he’ll talk o Lake in the Clouds, and then it seems to me that he misses the place, despite the fact that he spent so little time wi ye there. And he tells outrageous stories o trees as far as a man can see and hidden gold and wolves that guard the mountain and young Daniel catching a rabbit wi his bare hands, and then I ken that he’s a true Scott o Carryck, for wha else could tell such tales and keep a straight face all the while? But my revenge is this: I wear a bear’s tooth on a string around my neck, and he has nothing but the scapular my father gave him when first he came and took the name Scott.

“I’m sorry to say that I canna like your brother near as much as I like you. But tell me this, as you’re as much my cousin as is Luke, do ye no think it’s time for me to visit ye in Paradise? Perhaps the Earl would let me come, if your grandfather were to ask him.”

Luke put the letter down and laughed out loud. Then he leaned over and kissed Jennet soundly.

“I had no idea you started your campaign to leave Scotland so early,” he said. “Or that you were scheming even then to get away from me. That’s one trick you’ll never master.”

“I didn’t mean it, even then,” Jennet said. “But then you knew that.”

“Of course I did,” Luke said. “Of course.”

Chapter LXVII

Jim Bookman was a good neighbor and a respected magistrate, well liked except by those who would not or could not stay out of trouble. Bookman wasn’t afraid to use his fists or his weapons; and he was all too willing to drag troublemakers off to the small gaol he kept, nothing more than a lean-to built up against his cabin. In the Red Dog the regulars liked to tell stories about Bookman’s militia days, and they often debated what he would do were he to come face-to-face with a crime that called for hanging. Some thought he would string up the offender without a qualm or hesitation, while others claimed he would restrain himself and drag the culprit off to Johnstown. He was a law-and-order type, for all his years on the frontier and in the bush.