Jonah was cleaning the barn with Daniel and some of Daniel’s children. It was a messy job and not very interesting, but Will pitched in. Afterward, they went into the house for cider and cornbread. Esther served them but seemed angry with Will.
“The rapscallion returns,” she said as she plunked his plate in front of him and gestured at the honey. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Abercrombie,” he muttered.
She sat next to him and leaned her elbows on the table. “Just what did you think, taking Jonah off to Jacksonville?”
“Esther,” Jonah said, “I told you. ’Tweren’t Will’s fault.”
Esther continued to glare at Will, who shrugged and ate, washing the bread down with a gulp of cider.
When they finished, Jonah gestured to Will, and they returned to the barn. “I don’t know what bee Esther has in her bonnet,” Jonah said. “She’s convinced you made me go south. I told her otherwise.”
“It doesn’t matter, I suppose.” Will sighed. “How are you doing, now we’re home?”
Jonah chewed on a piece of straw. “Fine, I guess. Daniel says he’ll deed that land to me next spring. If I prove myself this winter while we clear a field to build on. We’ll build a cabin, so I can marry Iris next summer, once I’m eighteen.”
“And is Iris willing?” Will said with a grin.
“I ain’t asked her proper,” Jonah said. “I want the land deed first. But I’ll bet she’ll say yes. She kisses me like she will.”
Will grinned to himself. So now Jonah had kissed Iris. With a pang, he thought of Maria. He hadn’t tried to kiss her again. Maybe he never would. But he wanted to every time he saw her.
As Will rode home, he thought about how settled Jonah seemed. He’d given up on his dream of prospecting and returned to the life Daniel and Esther offered him. A small bit of land to farm until he could file his own homestead claim. A wife soon, and babies after that, most likely. Meanwhile, Will drifted aimlessly.
Mac spent every hour he could in his office, catching up after his weeks-long absence retrieving Will. His business endeavors all needed his attention. The banking proposal seemed dead in the water, because Mac’s brother Owen wouldn’t respond to his missives about a partnership with Ladd’s bank. The steamship company was embroiled in a fare war. The road survey would not resume until next summer. His Oregon investments were not reaping any profits—it was a good thing the California properties were thriving. Construction of the transcontinental railroad east from San Francisco kept workers in California prospering.
On November 8, Mac took a break from his paperwork and voted in the federal election. He cast his ballot for Abraham Lincoln, of course. He hoped the President would be reelected and the War would end soon. Union forces were making headway through the South—the papers were full of Sherman’s march through Georgia toward the Atlantic.
Will stopped by his office that afternoon. “Did you vote?” he asked Mac.
“Certainly.”
“Any word on the local results?”
“Not yet,” Mac leaned back in his chair and gestured for the boy to have a seat. “Polls aren’t even closed yet. It’ll be at least tomorrow before we know how Oregon voted. Getting the national count will take time.”
“I hope Lincoln wins,” Will said as he sat.
“I do, too, son.”
Will’s face went blank, as it often did when Mac called him “son.” But Mac wasn’t about to stop the appellation. He’d called Will “son” ever since the lad was a toddler. He’d tried to become the boy’s father, and he thought he’d succeeded. He wished Will felt the same.
Will could tell Mac didn’t have time for him. Nevertheless, after they discussed the election, he asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Mac shook his head. “I need to catch up on my correspondence.”
“Could I draft your responses for you? Or take your dictation? Colonel Drew thought I was pretty good at it.” Will tried not to sound too eager.
Mac shook his head. “I’ve tried using a secretary, but I find it’s faster to handle my letters myself. I think better as I write.” Mac leaned forward. “Shall I seek your admittance to Harvard next fall?”
Will shrugged. “We don’t need to decide yet, do we?”
“No. Next spring will be soon enough. But you seem at loose ends, and I thought maybe if you knew what was coming next—”
“I am at loose ends,” Will admitted. Maybe Mac had some idea of how he could occupy his time. “I need something to do besides help Mama peel apples.”
Mac laughed. “I can see that’s not a fit occupation for a young man of your talents. What about a job in town? Shall I ask around?”
“Why not?” Will thought Mac’s work would likely be more interesting than a job elsewhere in Oregon City. But any job would be better than sitting around the house.
That night, when Jenny and Mac were alone, she asked, “Do you think we should send Maria away to school? Abigail Duniway needs a helper, and Maria is so good with the younger children.”
“I thought we decided against that,” Mac said as he washed his face.
“I worry about having William and Maria together at home, neither of them with any meaningful ways to spend their time.”
“I’m going to try to find Will a position in town,” Mac told her. “Perhaps at the newspaper. Or the telegraph. He’s a bright lad, and any establishment would be lucky to have him.”
“Can’t you make a place for him in one of the companies you’ve invested in?” she asked. “Keep him where you can watch him?” She wanted William to stay nearby. If not at home, then at least where Mac could oversee her son’s activities.
Mac grimaced. “The last thing Will needs is for me to be breathing down his neck. It would be better if he did something independent of us. He knows that, deep down. He’s been on his own for months, and he’ll chafe if we monitor everything he does.”
