Later Martha would remember the singing as her favorite part of the evening. It started slowly, but then one song led to another and everyone joined in. Sometimes Hannah or Susanna sang harmony, and sometimes all voices fell away to leave someone singing alone for a moment.

Beside her Daniel was as enthusiastic as all the rest of them. He had a steady, strong baritone that could be heard clearly among the other voices. It pleased Martha greatly, and it came to her that she had missed this kind of music. In the city there had been recitals and concerts and dozens of young ladies eager to show off their skills at the pianoforte, but rarely had anyone sung like this. Just for the joy of it.

She had no intention of singing herself, though she had a good voice. An excellent voice, her music teacher had told her more than once, and how sad that she chose not to use it. While other young ladies got up to sing after dinner, Martha only listened politely and tried not to notice the dropped notes and sour turns.

Jemima had a good voice, and so Martha preferred to pretend that she did not.

And then suddenly it was over. Susanna was directing people to beds and pallets, and Gabriel and Annie were at the door, saying good night. Runs-from-Bears and the visitors from Good Pasture had already gone.

“You’ll be comfortable here,” Daniel was saying.

Martha couldn’t hide her surprise. “You’re leaving?”

“It’s the hayloft or the road for me,” he said, smiling. “I prefer my own bed, and it’s not so far.”

For a moment she wasn’t sure what to say. The thought foremost in her mind—that she didn’t want him to go—that could not be spoken aloud. Or the next thought, that she would rather go back to her own little house than stay here without him—

“I’m away home,” said John Mayfair. “I can see Martha back to the village, if she’d rather go.”

There was a silence that lasted two heartbeats. In that time Martha saw something come over Daniel’s face, irritation followed by—jealousy? That seemed unlikely, but whatever was there, at least John understood. He stepped back. “But then I have to go now, and that may not suit thee—”

Many pairs of eyes were on Martha as John Mayfair took his leave.

Then Hannah said, “You could just mark your territory the way the wolves do, brother.”

There was a burp of laughter that swelled into something much bigger. Daniel laughed too, embarrassed now, which suited him far better than surly jealousy.

“I can take you into the village,” Daniel said. “We have to talk about school on Monday; we could get that out of the way.”

“It’ll be dawn before you get back to the strawberry fields,” Ben said.

“I’m a good walker,” Martha said, and with that the matter was settled.

He knew the mountain. He knew every trail on the mountain, and a dozen ways to get from Lake in the Clouds to his own homestead. Even going the fastest way it would take close to an hour to get Martha to her own front door, and by that time it would be light enough that somebody would see them. The sensible thing would be to take the most direct route, along the ridge and down.

Daniel turned the opposite direction, and within a couple minutes they were deep in the forest.

Martha went along willingly enough, yawning now and then until they had worked up a good pace. Twenty minutes of hard walking without hesitating; more proof that she was at home here. That she belonged.

He stopped to check on her. It was very dark, but Daniel could still see the shape of Martha’s face quite clearly, and it was tilted up toward him.

“You worried about getting lost?”

“Of course not,” she said. Not in a talkative mood, probably regretting passing up the warm spot in front of Susanna’s hearth.

“Did you like the party?”

She glanced up, surprised or maybe just plain suspicious that he would be making small talk right here and now. Daniel didn’t understand it himself.

“Yes,” she said. “I did. Thank you.” And: “Where exactly are we? For all I know I could be walking over a cliff face.” Her tone was pricklish.

He said, “I’ve got that feeling myself.”

Another hour, at least, and Martha’s energy began to flag. It would be light soon and that would mean a whole twenty-four hours without real sleep. She had no regrets, she told herself. Not even this long hike through the forest in the dead of night.

When the trail got steep and muddy Daniel reached back to take her hand. They might have been sister and brother, Martha thought as he led her along the trail. His hand was hard and warm and his grip no-nonsense, and wasn’t she a foolish twit for wanting something else? What exactly was she hoping for? He had already kissed her—kissed her twice—and that was supposed to be enough for any girl of good family. More than enough. The thing was, and she could admit this to herself at least, that she had once thought she didn’t like kissing. Teddy’s kisses hadn’t suited her at all, dry and rough and hard, but Daniel went about it in a whole different way.

He was saying “Watch your step,” but too late, she had already lost her footing. He caught her up before she could hit the ground and set her back on her feet.

“We seem to do this a lot,” he said. He was smiling; she could hear it.

“I am normally quite graceful.” And, “What I mean is, I usually am able to stay on my feet.”

“I knock you off balance.”

She stiffened, but managed to count to three. “If you prefer to think of it that way.”