Hannah was smiling at her. “A good man can also be a frustrating man.”

“Amen to that,” said Curiosity. “But Throws-Far, he always been one to shout out to the world the things he want to believe hisself. Even as a little boy. If he hadn’t been raised among the Mohawk, I have no doubt he would have turned into a preacher of the fire-and-brimstone variety.”

“But do you think he’s right?” Birdie asked. “Is there such a thing as a hundred-year water?”

“I suppose we’ll find out.” Hannah’s expression was clear and honest but not very comforting. When she was like this she most reminded Birdie of their father, who could tell you an unhappy truth and still make you feel safe.

Hannah leaned forward to smooth a curl away from Birdie’s temple with one cool fingertip. “You can leave it to the men to do what can be done, you know. Not every burden is yours to carry.”

Curiosity smiled grimly.

Hannah was saying, “You are a great help, little sister. You make me proud.”

What Birdie thought to say, but kept to herself, was this: She had little choice. If Hannah needed her to help with the little people, then she would help. But what she wanted was for the rain to go away, so the grown-ups could stop talking about floods, and she could go to school and be distracted from her worries. There would be spelling to learn by heart, twenty words full of letters that popped up without sense or warning, from exercises to receiving.

If she could go to school and sit at her desk she could pretend that there was nothing to worry about and then when Daniel rang the bell that marked the end of school she could rush home and find them all there: her mother and father, her brother Gabriel, who had been allowed to come to Manhattan just to keep him out of trouble, Lily and Simon, Luke and Jennet and their brood. There would be a lot of talking and laughing and Ma would make tea and get out the cake tin and everybody would eat some and pretend to like it.

Curiosity said, “Child, where is your mind this morning?”

“Someplace between Johnstown and Paradise,” Hannah answered for her.

With a deep sigh Birdie gave in. “Do you think—” She paused, wondering if it was a good idea to put her worst worries into words. Once spoken, thoughts were free. They could fly around the room and come swooping at a person’s head when she could least protect herself.

“Go on.” Curiosity wiped her hands on the piece of toweling she kept tucked into the waistband of her apron.

“I was wondering how much the thaw will slow them down.”

Curiosity reached across the table and took Birdie’s hand between both her own, and she smiled. “They be here just as soon as they can, you know that. Your Da will find a way.”

Hannah said, “You needn’t worry, sister. Before you know it we’ll be overrun with Bonners. By the end of the summer you’ll be glad to wave them off home.”

“No, I won’t,” Birdie said, irritated now. “I would be happy if they stayed here forever, even if it would mean having the little people following me around everywhere. But at least Lily and Simon will stay even if Jennet and Luke won’t.”

“Hush,” Curiosity said. “Don’t you go borrowing trouble. It come to find us soon enough without you shouting out an invitation.”

The clock in the hall whirred and struck seven, and Hannah got up. She put the baby in Curiosity’s lap and set her doctor’s bag on the table. It was old and very worn, the leather patched in more than one spot. But Hannah opened it with care, and she studied what she saw there. Her doctor face was so different from her sister face that she looked like a stranger for a moment.

“You take Shorty,” Curiosity said to her. “He the only horse surefooted enough to get you where you need to go in this muck.”

Hannah looked back at them over her shoulder. “Ben has already saddled him for me.”

“Well, good,” Curiosity said, huffing a little. “That’s as it should be. You pay attention, you girls,” she called to Joan and Anje. “Our Hannah had to go all the way to the other end of the country to find him, but she got herself a good man, one who looks to his own and takes a care. If you find yourself a man like Ben Savard you hold on tight.”

Birdie wondered if Curiosity didn’t see the expression that flickered across Joan’s face, or if she just chose to ignore such things. Joan LeBlanc didn’t appreciate the suggestion that she should find herself a husband who was red, black, and white all rolled together. She might like Ben Savard—it was hard not to like him—but there were boundaries, she had told Birdie once. Everybody knows about those boundaries but your family, she had added, and then looked afraid that she had said too much.

Birdie hadn’t told anybody about that conversation, but she did try to work it out for herself, why Joan would say such a thing that was sure to cause offense.

From above came the sound of doors opening and closing and then a rushing down the stairs.

“Here they come,” Birdie said.

“Hungry, too.” Curiosity stood, her hands smoothing out her apron. “Best get some porridge on the table.” She paused, her head tilted slightly to one side.

“My,” she said. “Will you listen to that rain coming down?”

Chapter IV

In a boardinghouse on the outskirts of Johnstown, Mrs. Louise Kummer sat at her kitchen table scowling at her accounts book while the kitchen girl got breakfast started. A full house, down to the maid’s own cubby. You could say this much for German girls, they knew better than to complain about spending a night on a pallet by the kitchen hearth.