Your father and your uncle Runs-from-Bears are on the way to New Orleans. As war has rendered travel by sea and overland both exceedingly unreliable, they are resolved to start the journey by traveling west to Pittsburgh. From there they will set out southwest by means of the Ohio River. They have with them enough money to lease a keelboat and hire a crew that will take them all the way down the Mississippi. If all goes according to plan they should arrive within a week or ten days of this letter depending on the postal service, the state of the roads, and, of course, the war.

You know your father and uncle well enough to believe that they are capable of this, and more. And to tell the whole truth, I believe that they look forward to this journey with great eagerness and anticipation, first and foremost for the chance that they might be of service to you, but also because it is a very long time since they have had any kind of adventure. In truth, I envy them the opportunity to act on your behalf. If it weren’t for the baby (who thrives, and is a joy to us all) I think I would be easily talked into making the journey myself.

This letter must go out with the post-rider this afternoon if it is to have any chance of reaching you before our men do. Thus I close in haste, sending you my best wishes and prayers for your continued health of mind and body and quick success in your search. When you are safe home we will have much to celebrate. Your loving mother and stepmother,

Elizabeth Middleton Bonner

Paradise, on the west branch of the Sacandaga

New-York State, the 20th October, 1814

Dear brother & sisters,

Da and Runs-from-Bears are coming to save you, because Da says he will go simpleminded sitting idle while you are fighting alligators and redcoats, and Many-Doves says she will go simpleminded watching Runs-from-Bears pace, and anyway, who better to help you in your time of need?

I think I could, as I have a rifle of my own now and am reckoned a good shot, but no one listens. I have to stay here and go to school, with my own brother Daniel as the teacher. It was hard enough to have my mother as teacher, but this is worse still, I promise you. When you come home with the new baby who is my nephew, I am sure I will be far kinder to him than Daniel is to me, and never scold him for his penmanship, which as you see is perfectly easy to read.

Ma says that I am unfair, and that Daniel is an excellent teacher, which indeed everyone who doesn’t sit in his classroom agrees to be the case. He has endless patience with everybody but me, and I forgive him that only because I think that has to do with his arm, which is still not healed and causes him pain in spite of all the medicines Many-Doves and Curiosity and the new doctor give him. I hope his arm is better soon and that his mood gets better with it. Ma and Da are very worried about you. I am not but I think you should come home quickly all the same.

Your brother

Gabriel Bonner, aged ten full years

Dear Brother and Sisters,

I am sending along my rifle for Luke’s use or Hannah’s. If I were able, I would carry it to you myself to repay some part of the debt I owe you. The newspapers say there will be a battle for New Orleans that will make what has come up to this point look like child’s play, but for me this war and every war is over. As it is I stay behind to look after my mother and the children, and to carry on teaching school, but my thoughts and good wishes are with you every step of the journey you must make, home to safety.

Your brother, Daniel Bonner

The morning was overcast and wet and very cold, but Jennet could hardly contain her eagerness to be on her way to Hannah. Good news was rare, and Jennet didn’t want to hold it back from her one minute more than necessary. She was busy getting both babies ready to go when there was a knock at her door.

Mrs. Livingston had heard of the new child brought into her house and must have the opportunity to examine him. Jennet stopped what she was doing and made every effort to sound pleased at the delay.

“But, Mrs. Bonner,” Mrs. Livingston said, pulling up her skirts so that she could sit on the edge of the bed where Jacinthe’s son—Jennet told herself she must start thinking of him as Adam—lay swaddled and asleep. “You will adopt this child?”

“Yes,” Jennet said, and flashed a quick, tight smile. “I owe—rather, I owed his mother a debt, and she is gone. He has no one else in the world.”

Mrs. Livingston’s pretty mouth pursed thoughtfully as she reached for Nathaniel, who was crawling across the wide plain of the bed with the obvious intent of crawling off into space. “You must pardon me, Mrs. Bonner,” she said. “But is this a colored child?”

Jennet had believed herself ready to answer questions, and found that she was not. Righteous indignation would do no good, nor would it be possible to distract Mrs. Livingston from this topic. She glanced down at the baby’s fragile skull with its dusting of dark hair over a high brow. His skin was lighter than Jennet’s own after a summer in the sun. No doubt if she declared the boy to be white, Mrs. Livingston would take her word. But she could not make herself say the words.

“Of course.” The lie came so easily to Jennet, she found she could look Mrs. Livingston directly in the eye and say the words with complete composure: “His mother was a free woman of color.”

Mrs. Livingston sat back and pulled Nathaniel into her lap. He wiggled and twisted, full of energy and determined to be on his way, but all her attention was on Jennet. Her thoughtful, charitable attention.

Finally she said, “If you like, I can ask Marie to help you with him. She is nursing a daughter, and has enough milk for two. You know I’ve got enough willing hands to look after both these boys. That way you could return to help at the clinic, if you care to.”