play in the yard. Much more comfortable than the split log stoop I be usin’.
Feeling disloyal, Antonia stepped into the room, then moved to the side so the other women could follow her. Her first impression was of roominess and fine furniture. On second inspection, she realized the house wasn’t as big as the Cameron’s, nor was the furniture as ornate. Comfortable, she reckoned, and found herself relaxing a bit, while she studied the space.
A warm breeze rushed through the open door, freshening the stale, fetid air. She shuddered at the reason but saw no body and felt momentary relief.
The room combined a kitchen, dining area, and sitting room. Antonia eyed the big black stove that dominated the kitchen area and wondered what it would be like to cook on it, instead of using the fireplace or Dutch oven. A table, a counter, open shelves stocked with dishes and pantry items contained more possessions than she’d ever owned. A window above the dry sink provided a view out the side of the house toward the road. The windows on both sides of the front door let in plenty of light, and Antonia couldn’t resist peeking out of one to see Erik and Mr. Carter leading her mules toward the barn and Reverend Norton unloading the wagon. She lifted the sash to let in more air.
“Good idea,” said Pamela Carter, opening the window on the other side of the door. “Where is Daisy—” She bit off the words.
All three women glanced around. They spotted an open door, probably leading to the bedroom.
“In there,” Mrs. Norton said. “God rest her soul.” She took off her threadbare wool shawl and faded black bonnet and hung them on a hat tree near the door.
Antonia stepped out on the porch. “Henri,” she called.
Reverend Norton walked out of the barn. “I’ll get them.” His voice carried across the yard. He helped Henri climb off the wagon.
The boy ran to her.
Reverend Norton lifted Jacques and carried him to the porch.
Jacques stretched his arms toward her.
“Thank you,” Antonia said, taking her son. After holding Camilla for so long, Jacques felt heavy. She shifted him to her hip. “Henri.” She pointed to one of two leather chairs in the living area. “I want you to sit there and hold Camilla like you do with Jacques. And keep an eye on your brother. I’ll get Mrs. Cameron’s basket. Then you and Jacques can have a piece of cold chicken.”
“And jam after?”
She nodded, liking the eagerness in her son’s voice.
A slight smile broke over Henri’s face. He moved to the chair and sat. With a startled expression, he ran a hand over the leather cushion and bounced a bit, as if enjoying the padding.
Once Henri was settled, Mrs. Carter handed him Camilla.
He propped an elbow on the arm of the chair to brace the baby, his hands protectively around her small body.
Pamela removed a patterned shawl and her hat—an elegant burgundy straw with dyed feathers of the same color circling the brim—and hung them next to Mrs. Norton’s. She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the kitchen. “Why don’t I start supper so it will be ready after the. . .”
All three women glanced toward the open bedroom door.
Mrs. Norton took Antonia’s hand. “Leave the washing and dressing of the body to me. I’ve done it many times, and I think you have had enough to cope with today.”
Antonia nodded, grateful to be spared that difficult task.
“If you could bring me some clean rags and a pail of water. . . .” Mrs. Norton disappeared into the other room, closing the door behind her.
Mrs. Carter started poking around the kitchen. “There must be clean rags around here somewhere.” She opened a drawer under the counter. “Ah, here they are. I’ll give them to Mrs. Norton.”
Antonia stared at the bedroom door, wondering if it was cowardly to leave the unpleasant task to Mrs. Norton. Her thoughts jumped back to the sight of Jean-Claude and the grizzly, and her stomach churned. Resolutely, she turned
Feeling disloyal, Antonia stepped into the room, then moved to the side so the other women could follow her. Her first impression was of roominess and fine furniture. On second inspection, she realized the house wasn’t as big as the Cameron’s, nor was the furniture as ornate. Comfortable, she reckoned, and found herself relaxing a bit, while she studied the space.
A warm breeze rushed through the open door, freshening the stale, fetid air. She shuddered at the reason but saw no body and felt momentary relief.
The room combined a kitchen, dining area, and sitting room. Antonia eyed the big black stove that dominated the kitchen area and wondered what it would be like to cook on it, instead of using the fireplace or Dutch oven. A table, a counter, open shelves stocked with dishes and pantry items contained more possessions than she’d ever owned. A window above the dry sink provided a view out the side of the house toward the road. The windows on both sides of the front door let in plenty of light, and Antonia couldn’t resist peeking out of one to see Erik and Mr. Carter leading her mules toward the barn and Reverend Norton unloading the wagon. She lifted the sash to let in more air.
“Good idea,” said Pamela Carter, opening the window on the other side of the door. “Where is Daisy—” She bit off the words.
All three women glanced around. They spotted an open door, probably leading to the bedroom.
“In there,” Mrs. Norton said. “God rest her soul.” She took off her threadbare wool shawl and faded black bonnet and hung them on a hat tree near the door.
Antonia stepped out on the porch. “Henri,” she called.
Reverend Norton walked out of the barn. “I’ll get them.” His voice carried across the yard. He helped Henri climb off the wagon.
The boy ran to her.
Reverend Norton lifted Jacques and carried him to the porch.
Jacques stretched his arms toward her.
“Thank you,” Antonia said, taking her son. After holding Camilla for so long, Jacques felt heavy. She shifted him to her hip. “Henri.” She pointed to one of two leather chairs in the living area. “I want you to sit there and hold Camilla like you do with Jacques. And keep an eye on your brother. I’ll get Mrs. Cameron’s basket. Then you and Jacques can have a piece of cold chicken.”
“And jam after?”
She nodded, liking the eagerness in her son’s voice.
A slight smile broke over Henri’s face. He moved to the chair and sat. With a startled expression, he ran a hand over the leather cushion and bounced a bit, as if enjoying the padding.
Once Henri was settled, Mrs. Carter handed him Camilla.
He propped an elbow on the arm of the chair to brace the baby, his hands protectively around her small body.
Pamela removed a patterned shawl and her hat—an elegant burgundy straw with dyed feathers of the same color circling the brim—and hung them next to Mrs. Norton’s. She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the kitchen. “Why don’t I start supper so it will be ready after the. . .”
All three women glanced toward the open bedroom door.
Mrs. Norton took Antonia’s hand. “Leave the washing and dressing of the body to me. I’ve done it many times, and I think you have had enough to cope with today.”
Antonia nodded, grateful to be spared that difficult task.
“If you could bring me some clean rags and a pail of water. . . .” Mrs. Norton disappeared into the other room, closing the door behind her.
Mrs. Carter started poking around the kitchen. “There must be clean rags around here somewhere.” She opened a drawer under the counter. “Ah, here they are. I’ll give them to Mrs. Norton.”
Antonia stared at the bedroom door, wondering if it was cowardly to leave the unpleasant task to Mrs. Norton. Her thoughts jumped back to the sight of Jean-Claude and the grizzly, and her stomach churned. Resolutely, she turned
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