In a few minutes they were on the way. Mavis was still bubbling with excitement and proceeded to ask a never-ending stream of questions about every aspect of Ethan’s life since she had last seen him. Ethan was surprised at her knowledge of the war, but recalled that Joseph Maddock was thoroughly informed and that he relished sharing news with the Quaker families at their regular meetings. He soon realized that he was doing most of the talking as the cart bumped along the rough trail. He had not been so relaxed and happy in years. Only once did he mention Epsey, to say that she and the other women were doing well with the Over Mountain people, but that three of their husbands had been killed. In what seemed to be a comment of equivalent importance, Mavis said that Newota had been to see her several times, and they had a way to exchange messages. He was spending most of his time with Chief Emistisiguo, who communicated regularly with an Indian named Sunoma, who was with the Rangers.

Ethan’s face flushed again, this time with anger as he recalled what Thomas Brown’s Rangers had done to his son, Henry.

As they approached the Morris homestead they could see that all the fields had grown up in weeds, but the cabin had not been harmed. Ethan saw a small bundle of feathers and fur attached to the door, and presumed this to be the Indian mark that had prevented its destruction. Almost like turning a switch, their conversation was now focused almost exclusively on Kindred, and there was no reluctance or morbidity in their remarks. As they loaded the undamaged spinning wheel, the fireplace equipment that Ethan had made, a few notebooks, and some other items that she had left behind, Mavis seemed to recall only the delightful and interesting things the three of them had done together. Finally, as they closed the door and started walking toward the loaded cart, she grasped Ethan’s hand and stopped him. She looked up into his eyes and said quite seriously, “You know that he was like a brother to me.”