I want to shout no, to explain that I want it to be just him and me, but he’s already asking Tom and Henry, so I steer Peony toward the Joyners’ wagon.

Mrs. Joyner drives the team, something she never would have done when we started out. She wears a pinafore over her skirts, and the oxen’s reins are pinched between her knees. In her hands is a small walnut clock with brass trim, which she is polishing with a cloth.

There is no sign of her husband.

“Lee,” she acknowledges, rubbing at that clock like her life depends on it.

“Ma’am.” I tip my hat. “Came by to see if you or Mr. Joyner were interested in climbing up Devil’s Gate with us. It’s right on the river. Should be a sight.”

“Mr. Joyner is not interested,” she says.

I’m not sure how long it’s been since I’ve laid eyes on him, except to see a vague shadow in the wagon bed whenever Jeff and I load and unload. I’ve worried that the cholera has returned, but the wagon definitely does not smell of cholera.

“Maybe Andy and Olive would like to come? I won’t let them out of my sight.” I expect her to agree at once. Lately, Mrs. Joyner has been trying to keep them away from the wagon—to give Mr. Joyner his rest, she says—jumping at every opportunity to let them play with the Robichaud twins or the Hoffman children.

Olive has been walking beside the wagon, a rag doll in one hand, her baby brother’s hand in the other. “Please, Ma?” she says.

“Me too!” Andy says.

Mrs. Joyner rests her hand on her enormous belly. If it gets any bigger, she can throw a tablecloth over it and serve tea. “Certainly. As long as you both mind Lee.”

I spy Jefferson talking to the Robichauds, so I head over to the Hoffmans, Olive and Andy in tow.

Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman sit side by side on the bench of the first wagon. Mrs. Hoffman holds a needle and an embroidery hoop. I’m surprised her fingers don’t look like she picked up a porcupine.

“Guten Morgen, Herr Hoffman,” I say.

“Good morning to you,” he replies in a thick accent.

Therese sticks her head out from the wagon and peers at me from between her parents’ shoulders. “Hallo, Lee!”

“Want to climb up to Devil’s Gate with Jeff and me? We’re taking some of the children.”

“I would like very much to go with you. Bitte?”

“Ja, ja,” her father says.

“Danke,” Therese says, kissing her mother’s cheek. She climbs onto the jockey box and hops down.

“Hey, always jump from the back of the wagon, away from the wheels,” Jefferson says, riding up.