The Endless Forest Page 107


“It’s too far for me to travel,” she told them without even a hint of regret. “But truth be told, I’m glad of the quiet. Children are a blessing, but a noisy one. So I’ve sent the help away home, all but Henry who took your horses and will see to the livestock. It’s just me and Molly and the quiet.”

Daniel’s head jerked up. “Molly stayed behind?”

“Aye,” said Mrs. Allen, pointing with her cane. “She’s right here if you want to have a word with her. Molly!”

There was a rustling in a box on the other side of the hearth and then a dog appeared. Not especially big, black with white markings, and a grin that looked distinctly human. She came straight to Daniel, who made a great deal of rubbing her head and talking to her.

“Molly’s grandsire followed Michael to the war,” he told Martha. “Hunter stayed with us all through the campaign on the St. Lawrence.”

“And Molly is cut from the same cloth,” said Mrs. Allen. “Didn’t Michael promise you a pup from her next litter?”

Daniel admitted that he had.

“Well, then, your timing is just right,” said Mrs. Allen. “Have a look.”

A puppy was climbing over the edge of the box, followed in short order by five more, each of them in pursuit of their mother. When Martha thought the parade had come to an end a seventh came rolling out of the box in an ungainly ball. This last puppy was twice the size of the others with a round belly and a satisfied air.

“That’s Hopper,” said Mrs. Allen. “Born three days ahead of the rest of them.”

Martha looked up in surprise.

“Oh, aye, it’s true,” said the old lady. “Out he popped, alone. We didn’t know what to make of it. Molly seemed glad enough to see him and he went right to the teat, but anybody with eyes could see her belly was still full of pups, all of them as jumpy as crickets. Three days later she got down to work again and along come the other six. And did Hopper make hay while that sun was shining? I have never seen a pup so fat.”

“He looks exactly like his mother,” Martha said. “The same markings.”

“Aye,” said Mrs. Allen. “And he’s just as smart. Isn’t your lad clever, Molly. Three full days with all those teats to hisself.”

Daniel leaned over to scoop up the puppy, who squirmed not to get away, but to get as close as he could. In no time at all he had found a button and was tugging at it with great seriousness.

“Looks like you’ve got your dog,” said Mrs. Allen. “And now I have to get these old bones to bed.”

“We are intruding on your peace,” Daniel said. Martha held her breath because it was certainly true, but what could be done about it, unless they were to ride away into the night? In which case she would surely collapse of plain exhaustion.

“Not unless you decide to play bowls in the parlor at ten of the evening. Which my grandsons did, not a week ago.”

At the door she paused and turned laboriously. Then she used her cane to point at the ceiling over her head. “Two chambers, fresh made up,” she said. “Take one or both, whatever suits. Extra coverlets in the chest if it should happen you need ’em. We’re in for some more weather.”

When they heard the sound of Mrs. Allen’s chamber door closing, Daniel smiled at her.

“Didn’t expect to be bringing a new dog home from this trip.” He dumped the pup onto Martha’s lap and laughed to see him start from scratch, nosing into Martha’s bodice and under her arms, pulling on buttons and tugging at ties until he reached her throat and began the process of licking her into submission. She laughed, but that only seemed to encourage him.

When she turned to Daniel he was watching her with an expression that she had seen before. Early this morning, sitting on the porch while the sun rose on this very long, most extraordinary day. Without taking his eyes from hers he reclaimed Hopper and put him with the rest of the litter, where he immediately wiggled his way to a free teat.

“So,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

Later, Daniel banked the fire while Martha wiped the bowls and put them away.

“I’ll take our bags upstairs.”

She said, “I’ll come behind with the candle. Unless the stories are true and you can see in the dark.”

He laughed. “Now that’s one I haven’t heard before.”

“I think there must be many stories you haven’t heard about yourself. You have always been a staple of conversation among the schoolchildren.” She said, “I knew you couldn’t make deer and wolves and otters obey you. You couldn’t even make Lily obey you, try though you might.”

“So you saw through me even then.”

She might have said, I loved you even then, but her bravado only reached so far.

The two chambers above the kitchen were simply furnished, each with a dresser, a small table under the windows, a few chairs, and a bed. In the second room the bed was very old-fashioned, high enough to require steps, with curtains that could be pulled closed to keep out the sun, and a canopy of faded fabric heavily embroidered. It was a bed for a princess, and the very sight of it made Martha step backward over the door swell.

Daniel seemed less overwhelmed. He went straight to the windows that looked out over pasture and woodland. When he turned around again he seemed to have come to some kind of decision. “You need sleep,” he said. “I’ll take the other room.” Before she could think of how to respond to this surprising declaration, he was most of the way out of the room, turning his body so he could slip past her. Martha caught his hand and he stopped. The two of them stood together in the narrow doorway, his gaze so intent, as if he meant to see into her head and see what she was thinking. She said, “Wait.”

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