"Good of you, right good of you, and I know Martha will be pleased about
it too. I cudgeled and cudgeled my brains wondering what I could do for
her, and all I could think of was the hospital at Camp Axton. But Martha
will be glad to have you around and she'll feel better about it too. I
know she wants the little one born in her own house. It will be sort of
lucky."
"Hope you don't aim to keep all six of 'em in one room," Joe said.
"Young ones can be right lively at times."
"I know," Winterson laughed. "I have five brothers and six sisters.
We'll build on as we need more rooms. We plan a sizeable house."
Emma and Barbara prepared dinner, and after they had eaten Winterson
mounted his vast horse and rode away with one of Emma's hens tucked
tenderly beneath his arm. He dropped the horse's reins and turned to
wave good-by.
"I'll bring Martha over next week," he called.
They watched him until he was out of sight, sad because he was going
but happy too. They were not alone. There was a near neighbor and Joe
speculated on the fact that in Missouri anyone who lived four miles away
would have been reasonably far. This country was different. It had depth
and breadth, but wasn't that what they'd hoped to find? But Joe had
another man to plan with, and Emma went a little more briskly about her
work because there was a woman near. Barbara's dreamy eyes reflected
only that there would be extra guests for her wedding.
Joe and Ellis went to fell saplings for Emma's chicken coop and Joe
looked wistfully at his fields. There was so very much to be done and so
little time in which to do it. He wanted to plow again, to see the rich
earth turn and feel it beneath his feet, for he had a kinship with the
earth. For the present, plowing must wait. But before winter, Joe vowed,
he would have at least ten acres plowed and sown to wheat and rye. He
didn't hope to do much more than that because here plowing was
difficult. But once the land was worked it would not be hard to work
again, and in the years to come he would have as much plow land as he
wanted. He wondered oddly why he thought of this in terms of years. In
Missouri he had seldom planned beyond the next day.
After the evening meal, Barbara and Ellis slipped out. The children
slept, and by the light of an oil lamp Emma mended clothes. Utterly
tired but completely happy, Joe sprawled on a wooden bench that would
serve as a sofa until they had enough money to buy a better one. The
money he had and all he would get must be saved, for during the winter
to come they would still have to buy a great deal of what they needed.
Emma's needle flicked back and forth, and she added one of Tad's shirts
to a pile of already-mended clothes.
"A penny for your thoughts," she said.
"They're worth a million dollars," Joe asserted. "I'm thinking about
you."