Cradle to Grave by Eleanor Kuhns

inspected him, as though she could not understand how he had enticed Lydia away from the community. Then she, too, turned and walked quickly away.
    Rees and Lydia climbed into the buggy. Lydia’s forehead was furrowed, and when she was settled she said, “I’m worried. I’d like to stay an extra day, if we can? Just in case Mouse behaves rashly.”
    â€œI agree,” Rees said, far more alarmed than he cared to admit to his wife. “We can spare a day. David will be surprised to see us return so soon—less than a month gone.”
    Lydia smiled, although the anxious pinching around her eyes did not ease.
    *   *   *
    The night passed with no alarms, and Rees began to believe he was worrying needlessly. And he was happy to see that Lydia ate a good breakfast, so he was hopeful that she, too, regretted her anxiety.
    After breakfast they purchased a substantial quantity of cornmeal and molasses at the store and set out again for the Whitney farm. A fresh layer of snow cloaked everything and more was falling from the gray sky. Although it stopped before they reached their destination, the pearly opalescent sky promised another shower. Rees looked at the sagging clouds and frowned, worried that a heavy snowfall would delay their departure.
    This fresh white coat made even this shack pretty, lending an austere purity to the battered dwelling and frosting the pines standing sentinel over the outhouse. The scarecrow’s rags flapped gaily at them in the cold breeze. As Ares struggled to pull the buggy up the snowy drive, Rees noticed fresh wheel tracks in the powder. They were not the first visitors this morning.
    Rees threw a heavy horse blanket over Ares and he and Lydia crossed the drive to the cabin.
    Jerusha opened the door, greeting them with a smile. “Come in,” she invited. “I never thanked you properly the day before yesterday.”
    â€œYou’re very welcome,” Lydia said. Rees looked around the cabin. Mrs. Whitney had produced a small spinning wheel and it was drawn up to the hearth waiting for her attention. She was rocking by the fire, nursing Joseph, who appeared to be half asleep. Nancy sat on the floor carding wool while Judah played beside her. And the handful of baskets heaped upon the table proved that Maggie still had friends in Dover Springs. Someone had brought soup in a pail and now the stew bubbled over the fire. Rees recognized the wheel of cheese as coming from the inn, and Mr. Randall had included a freshly baked loaf of bread as well. Maggie had hung a chunk of fly-specked ham on a hook in the ceiling. Rees would wager that was from Cooper. Rees put the cornmeal and the molasses next to the cheese.
    Jerusha clapped her hands. “We shall have enough food for a month and more,” she cried.
    Rees looked at it. He did not think the food would last even a week with all these hungry mouths.
    â€œI’ll put Joseph in the cradle,” Maggie said abruptly, carefully detaching Joseph and standing up. “I must go out, Jerry.” She ignored both Rees and Lydia as though they were not there.
    As she carried the baby into the back room, there was a knock. Rees, who stood closest, flung the door open. There were two visitors on the step: a man and a woman. The gentleman wore black, of plain cut although excellent broadcloth. He carried a heavy basket on one arm. His companion was a gentlewoman, garbed in a fashionable riding costume with a dark purple velvet jacket. The rich color did not flatter her sallow skin. A velvet purple hat completed her ensemble. With the addition of two more, the cabin felt even smaller and more cramped than previously.
    â€œI am Reverend Vermette,” the man said to Rees, eyeing him curiously. “And this is my betrothed, Miss Pike. We thought we would pay a pastoral call and offer Mrs. Whitney whatever succor she requires.” He spoke in a rush, with a febrile intensity that Rees found