Several nights later, after Papa and Mr. Williamson had gotten a good start on the house, Coral helped her mother prepare dinner over a spider skillet. The aroma of venison lingered in the air. Her flour-coated hands paused over the biscuit dough while she admired the foundation of their new home.
Papa and Mr. Williamson were making great progress. The nights were growing colder, and that morning a light frost coated the wild grasses surrounding the campsite. How nice it would be to live in a real house again. On cold winter evenings Papa would build a fire in the fireplace, and they’d sit around it and read books and newspapers. Mama could unpack all their flatware, the nice dishes, and her favorite English vase.
Coral had her own collection of treasured things in her hope chest. Wrapped in her embroidered linens was her silver brush and comb set and her collection of Jane Austen books she’d brought from England. Lavender-scented potpourri was nestled in her favorite evening dress and kept everything smelling fresh. Then there was her six-sided patchwork quilt. She’d spent hours sewing together the hexagon shapes cut from fine, soft fabric.
Her rebellious heart sailed back to Maryland, and Roland. Had she not prayed and asked God to show her a way to be with him? Much to her chagrin the image of the handsome Mr. Williamson with his blue eyes invaded her thoughts. She shoved the picture from her mind and went back to cutting dough.
A short time later they sat around the makeshift table and bowed their heads. Papa thanked the Lord for the meal, but Coral prayed for something else. Roland had danced with a young Miss Cooper at her summer cotillion last June. She cringed at the memory. Would his head be turned by the money and connections Miss Cooper had? No, not her Roland.
Coral’s feelings skittered around in her heart like dry autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind. The Bible said children were to respect and obey their parents. She loved Papa and Mama dearly and knew they would follow wherever God led them, but she believed they were mistaken in coming here. She also knew she should trust God with her circumstances, but why was trusting Him so frightening and painful?
In spite of her hunger, her dinner tasted like sawdust.
“Coral,” Mama said, “are you feeling unwell? You’re pale and you’ve hardly touched your dinner.”
“I’m fine, Mama.” Coral skewered a piece of venison with her fork. Again she thought of Josiah. He hadn’t recoiled from her when she’d stood before him coated in blood from butchering the deer. On several occasions he’d helped her fetch water from the creek. Maybe a man from the country could have some manners after all.
“Come, Coral, help me with the dishes,” Mama said.
Coral stood, retrieved the bucket, and trudged to the creek.
When she traipsed back into camp, her parents were talking of packages being mailed to Canada. What did they mean by that? They didn’t know anyone living in Canada. At least she didn’t think they did.
Papa glanced at her. Then he cleared his throat. “I hope we can finish the house before the first snow falls. I don’t know these parts well enough to guess when that might be.” He sipped from the tin cup Mama handed him.
“Mr. Williamson seems nice enough,” Mama replied. “And he’s a hard worker. I’m sure it will be done soon.”
Coral noticed an odd look exchanged between her parents. Did they have a secret plot to match her up with the rugged woodsman? She hoped not. Manners or not, he wasn’t the refined gentleman that Roland was. And how could she trust a man she didn’t even know? How could her parents, for that matter?
To change the uncomfortable topic, Coral said, “Papa, when are you going into town again? I need more thread to mend my work dress and apron.”
“I hope it can wait until we get the house built. That should be within the month, but I’m running out of nails, and the saw needs to be sharpened. I might ask Josiah to take care of those things for me.” Papa studied the sketches he’d drawn of their house.
“Mama, how often do you think a mail rider comes through this wild place?” Coral asked.
“I don’t know, dear. Are you thinking of sending Ashlynn a letter?”
“No.” Coral shifted her weight. Anxiety washed over her when she replied, “I wrote a letter to Roland.”
Papa straightened his stance and said harshly, “I know you miss the lifestyle of Annapolis, but you needn’t concern yourself with certain connections there.”
Mama shot her a disapproving look and tossed a chunk of wood onto the fire. Sparks spewed. Blue-orange flames hissed and reached upward.
Dismay engulfed Coral. The bucket slipped from her fingers and water sloshed everywhere. She cringed. Not only did she have to make another trip to the creek for more, but she had disappointed her parents.
It wasn’t often she saw them so upset. Usually, it had to do with the slave trade. Roland’s parents were staunch abolitionists, so he couldn’t possibly have anything to do with that. So why, then, would they be so upset when she mentioned her letter to him? The silence filling the atmosphere didn’t answer her questions.
“I’m sorry you’re heartbroken, my dear,” Mama finally said. “Your father has heard of a church social being held at the end of October. Perhaps we could join the festivities.”
“A church social,” Coral wailed. “What kind of excitement goes on at a church social?”
“The kind that doesn’t include the cursing we heard at too many parties in Annapolis. I’d think you’d be grateful to get away from all the arguments over politics.”
“Yes, but Mama, what good is it to get away from arguments if I’m also away from the fun?”
“Sacrifices must be made, my dear, and we must trust God to use us where He places us.”
Another lapse of quiet ensued, which made Coral angry. Why did her folks talk in such riddles?
Josiah rode his horse into the clearing. The Martins’ new home consisted of nothing more than a half-built foundation, but it was coming along. They had been fortunate to find rocks large enough to wedge against the outside corners to give the structure some stability.
That morning he and Sam cut more trees and skinned the bark off them. Then he used a planer to smooth two sides of the logs while Sam cut notches in the ends. That afternoon they stacked them one on top of the other. The resulting walls were only a few logs high, but it was a start. One he was proud of.
While he worked, Josiah tried not to look at the beautiful Miss Martin, but she occupied his thoughts more than he wanted to admit. Both Sam and his wife had told him not to share their secret with her. He understood they wanted to safeguard their daughter, but he worried nonetheless. Did they have other reasons, besides protection, for keeping their work secret? She seemed too sweet to go blabbing secrets of their underground work to others. He didn’t want to consider the possibility that she couldn’t be trusted.
Wisps of her brown hair came loose from its pins and fell about her face, giving her the look of an angel.
“Ouch,” Josiah exclaimed when the planer handle scraped into his palm, causing it to bleed. He reached for his kerchief and wrapped it around the wound.
“Are you all right, Mr. Williamson?” Coral hurried to his side and reached for his hand. “I have some salve I can put on this.”
Josiah’s pulse quickened at how she held his hand in hers. She cared a great deal about folks. He liked that about her. Perhaps this young beauty could be trusted after all.
Should he speak with Sam about her? Not exactly court her, just spend time with her. It was important that he find out what her father meant when he’d said it was the company she’d kept that worried him. Or so he tried to convince himself. After all, one could never be too careful in this line of work.
“Thank you, Miss Martin, you’re too kind,” Josiah said after swallowing the lump in his throat.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “I’ll get that salve right now.” She stepped away. A school of fish swam in his stomach as he watched her stride to the back of the wagon and climb inside.
An idea sprang into his mind like an overzealous jackrabbit. He could take her into town to see Mr. Wilbur and see what he thought of her. Josiah chuckled. That’s what he would do. He ignored his throbbing hand.
Josiah jogged over to where Coral’s father worked. “Sam, may I speak with you a moment?”
“Yes, of course, what’s on your mind?” Sam climbed to the top of the ladder with hatchet in hand and chopped at a large knot protruding from the top log.
“Here, I’ll hold this for you.” Josiah gripped the sides of the ladder and held it steady. He wanted to ask Sam’s permission to take Coral to meet Mr. Wilbur. Prudence told him to wait until Sam got down off the ladder before asking, but on this rare occasion he ignored prudence.
“Sam, I wonder if I might—” Josiah wet his lips and swallowed, contemplating his next words. He took a deep breath, ready to forge ahead.
At that moment, the horses, tied to their picket lines near the wagon, whinnied. They pulled at the lines, and one of them bucked and kicked the back of the conveyance. A snake had probably spooked them. He thought of Coral, in the wagon getting his salve. He feared she might be in danger.
“Mind your step up there, Sam. I’m going to calm the horses,” he hollered as he went to tend to the animals.
Josiah hurried to the frightened beasts. “There, there, everything is all right now,” he soothed. He held his hands up and took a few hesitant steps forward. After a few more gentle words the animals quieted. He stepped alongside them and rubbed their sleek, warm necks.
“Thank you, Mr. Williamson, but I could have handled them.” Coral poked her head out from the wagon and smiled at him. Her green eyes twinkled.
A shout echoed.
Josiah turned in time to see Sam tumble from the ladder.
“Papa,” Coral screamed. She sprang from the wagon and sprinted to her father. Josiah followed close behind.
They reached Sam at the same moment and knelt beside him. Blood poured from a gash in his lower left leg. Josiah’s stomach convulsed at Sam’s pale complexion. The poor man grimaced with pain.
“Sam, Coral, what happened?” Mrs. Martin ran from the direction of the creek and knelt beside her husband.
“Papa fell from the ladder. He’s badly hurt,” Coral wailed.
Josiah stood. “I’ll fetch the doctor.”
Coral turned to face Josiah. The green irises that sparkled only a moment ago now burned with indignant fire.
“Why weren’t you holding the ladder for him?”