“Tell me about our new home, Papa,” I said.
I was sitting on the cabin step, leaning against Papa’s knees. It was night and the trees looked like thin, black shadows. An owl hooted in the darkness. Through the open doorway, I could hear Max talking to the woman, his voice prattling on like Grandmother’s milkman in England.
Papa pretended to think. “Let’s see, it will be a little bit like this cabin, built out of logs.”
“But you said it will have a painted floor,” I reminded him. “And we’ll have big windows that let the sun in, right, Papa?”
“Right, little sparrow.”
“Will you build our cabin right away, Papa?” I asked. I knew I sounded as impatient as Max, but I was too excited to care.
Papa tapped the end of my nose. “Not right away. I will have to clear some land first. For a while we will live in a shanty, which is like a little cabin.”
I snuggled closer to Papa. “I wish we could keep going tonight.”
Papa gazed silently at the dark forest. He said in a soft voice, “You were a little girl when Mama died and you were very brave.”
I was quiet. Sometimes it was hard to remember Mama.
“And you were very, very brave when you said goodbye to Grandmother in England.”
I traced my finger along the edge of the step. What was Papa saying? I wasn’t brave at all, and Papa knew it. I was afraid of the man who brought the vegetables and loud noises and the doctor who had come to see Mama.
Papa touched my shoulder. “You must be brave one more time.”
Papa spoke quickly now. He didn’t look at me. “I want you and Max to stay here with this family while I go ahead. It won’t be for long. I’ll come back for you as soon as I get settled on our land.”
My chest felt like it was being squeezed. “No!”
“It will only be for a little while. Max can play with the boy. It will be fun for him.” Papa tried to smile. “The girl is your age. You can be friends.”
“But I don’t like her.”
Papa frowned.
My voice became small. “She’s bossy. And she stares at me. Please, Papa.”
“I’m sorry,” said Papa.
My heart thumped wildly. It hurt to breathe. “You can’t leave us! We won’t be any trouble, I promise!”
“You need to be with a family, and I need some time to settle our affairs.” Papa’s face closed. “Besides, Ellen, I have made the arrangements already.”
Papa didn’t say little sparrow. He didn’t say Ellie. He said Ellen. I bent my head. My heart felt like a small, cold stone.
I hated the fat woman, who must have told Papa to do this. I hated the man with the gloomy beard and the sharp-eyed boy and girl. And for one terrible minute, I hated Papa too.
I knew I must not argue.
But how could Papa leave us?
That night I crawled under a quilt beside the girl. The mattress was thin and filled with something prickly. Max and the boy slept on another mattress beside us. Firelight flickered around the edges of the curtain wall. I could hear the murmur of the grownups’ voices, Papa’s up and down like the wind.
The girl had skinny chicken legs. I stiffened my back so I wouldn’t touch them.
The boy with the fox face whispered in the darkness, “If your papa leaves, are you orphans?”
“No, stupid,” said the girl. “He’s still their papa, isn’t he? He’s coming back.”
I tried to swallow. My throat filled with a hard lump.
I felt the girl touch the edge of my nightie. “Is that lace? Is your papa rich?”
The boy giggled.
I could feel the girl’s hot breath on my cheek. “Did you have a very best friend in England?”
My nose prickled. My eyes ached with tears. I squeezed them shut and kept very still.
“I’ve never had a best friend,” said the girl.
I thought, Go away! Go away!
After a few minutes, the girl said, “Oh, well then.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue and rolled over.
When I woke in the morning, the girl was gone. A round lump pressed against my stomach. It was Max. He was sucking his thumb, making snuffling noises. He sounded like the funny tame squirrel that lived outside Grandmother’s kitchen window. I crawled out of bed and pushed back the curtain. The woman was leaning over a pot in the fireplace, stirring.
I ran to the door. My stomach felt hollow. There was no wagon. There were no Billy and George. The road stretched like a brown ribbon into the forest.
Papa was gone.
