He shrugged. “I don’t rightly know. Don’t seem too bad. Dusty, I reckon. And not much time to be lazy, ey?”

She laughed. “You wouldn’t know how to be lazy, Charlie.”

He smiled at the compliment. “I’d rather be home.”

She sighed. “We’ll be back, Charlie, I promise.” They were both quiet a moment remembering their father saying almost the same words. “Truly,” she added. “I’m sure of it.”

He smiled. “Sure,” he said.

They were in sight now of Quaker Stevens’s farm. They could see him, his broad-brimmed straight black hat surrounded by the black hats of his three grown sons. They had the oxen yoked to a sled, which was already half loaded with stones, and were digging away at more stones buried in a newly cleared field.

Their farmhouse, close to the road, had been added onto over the years. The outlines of the first saltbox could be made out on the northern end, which melted on the backside into a larger frame Cape Cod, then an ell that served as shed, storage, privy, and corridor to two barns, the larger one growing out of the smaller. They were rich for all their Quaker adherence to the simple life.

Envy crept up like a noxious vine. Lyddie snapped it off, but the roots were deep and beyond her reach.

Before they called out, the farmer had seen them. He waved, took off his hat to wipe his head and face on the sleeve of his homespun shirt, replaced his hat, and made his way across the field to the road.

“I see my bull served thee well,” he said, smiling. His face was broad and red, his hair curly and gray about his ears. Great caterpillar eyebrows crowned his kindly eyes.

“We come to thank you,” Lyddie began, thinking fast, wanting to be fair and honest but at the same time wanting a large price for the calf that she knew in her heart was partly his.

“Thee brought these beasts five miles down the road for that?” he asked, his woolly eyebrows high up on his forehead.

Lyddie blushed. “The truth is, we’re taking the horse and cow to Mr. Westcott—in payment of debt, and we’re obliged to sell off this pretty calf straight away. Our mother’s put us out to work.”

“Thee’s leaving thy land?”

“It’s let as well,” she said, allowing just a tiny hint of sadness to creep into her voice. “Charles here and I was waiting for our father to come back from the West, but …”

“Thee’s been alone all winter, just thee two children?”

She could feel Charles stiffen beside her. “We managed fine,” she said.

He took off his hat again and wiped his face and neck. “I should have come to call on my neighbors,” he said quietly.