To his surprise, the clerk handed him a letter addressed to Esther. “You goin’ that way, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Will said, taking the letter. “I’ll deliver it.”
Will stopped by Pa’s office and gave him the letter from California. “Esther Abercrombie has a letter. The Post Office clerk asked if I would deliver it to her. I said I would.”
Pa frowned at him. “That’s not your responsibility, son.”
“No, sir. But I don’t mind.”
“Talk to your mother. She might like a visit with Esther. I don’t want either of you traveling alone.”
“Yes, sir.” Will was elated to have his father’s permission. Though waiting for Mama would slow him down. He wouldn’t be able to spend much time with Jonah.
Jenny sat in the parlor mending Nate’s trousers when Will asked if she wanted to go with him to deliver a letter to Esther. “She’ll likely be in town for church on Sunday,” Jenny told him. “It can wait until then.”
“The clerk at the Post Office seemed to think it should get to her right away,” Will said. “And Pa said I could.”
“Who is the letter from?” Jenny asked.
Will shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Jenny held her hand out, and Will gave her the letter. “Probably her brother Joel,” Jenny said after inspecting it. “All right, I’m sure she’ll want his news as soon as possible.” She packed the mending in her sewing basket and gathered her cloak and bonnet. A light mist fell, and she sighed at the damp. She thought about taking Maggie with them, but Will seemed antsy to be on his way, and getting the little girl into her hat and coat might take another half hour. He’d already harnessed one of the carriage mares to the buggy by the time Jenny was ready.
Will helped her into the buggy, tapped the traces on the mare’s hindquarters, and they headed out of town. The evergreens lining the route were heavy with rain from earlier in the day, and the road itself was muddy. But they trotted along at a good clip. Like Shanty, the mare was bred out of Jenny’s old Indian mare Poulette and sired by Mac’s Andalusian stallion Valiente. Mac bought Poulette for her at Fort Laramie as they traveled to Oregon—she’d loved that Indian pony, which had died five years ago.
“Have you thought about your father’s plan to send you to Harvard?” she asked.
Will shook his head.
“It’s a fine opportunity. Mac has always spoken fondly of his years in college.”
“Boston is so far away,” Will said.
“Yes,” she said. “It is. I hate for you to be so distant from us. But your education is important. You could be a great man here in Oregon.” She swallowed. “Or wherever you decided to settle.” There was always the possibility he’d stay in the East.
He glanced at her. “Are you afraid I wouldn’t come back?”
“I would hate it if you didn’t,” she said sadly, patting his arm. “A mother always worries about losing her child.”
“Nothing bad’ll happen to me,” Will said.
“I’d be devastated if it did,” Jenny murmured.
They arrived at Esther’s house. Jenny knocked on the door while Will tethered the mare to a fencepost. “We won’t stay long,” Jenny told him. “No need to unharness her.”
Esther opened the door and ushered them in with a smile and offer of coffee. Jenny handed Esther the letter.
“From Joel,” Esther exclaimed. “I recognize his handwritin.’ Do you mind if I read it?”
Jenny shook her head. “I figured you’d want to read it right away. I’ll pour the coffee.” She knew Esther’s house as well as her own. She took mugs out of the cupboard and poured steaming drinks for Esther, Will, and herself.
“Where’s Jonah?” Will asked. “Maybe I can go talk to him.”
“He’s with Daniel and Zeke. Cuttin’ timber. I ain’t sure exactly where. You best not traipse after ’em if you and your ma ain’t staying long,” Esther said as she perused the letter. “This is news—Joel is in the Rogue River Valley. Last he wrote, he’d been minin’ near Ruby City. Now he plans to stay ’round Jacksonville for a while.”
“That’s in Southern Oregon, isn’t it?” Jenny asked. She’d never been that far south in the state—in fact, she’d never been south of where the steamboat stopped in Eugene.
“Mmm-hmm,” Esther mumbled distractedly. “He says to send letters to him in Jacksonville. Though he’ll be prospectin’ in the mountains ’round those parts.” She looked up. “I’ll have to write him and beg him to visit us.”
“For your sake, I hope he will,” Jenny said. Joel had prospected with Mac in California, but he only rarely traveled north to see his siblings. He seemed to prefer mining to life on Esther’s or Zeke’s farms. “Have you seen any sign of deserters nearby?” she asked after Esther finished reading the letter.
Esther shook her head. “Not a one. Daniel warned me and the young’uns to stay close. I don’t go to town without a rifle and at least two young’uns to watch from the back of the wagon.”
“Well, be careful,” Jenny said. “You remember what happened to Hannah.”
“That was more’n a decade ago. And the man who attacked her was a murderer, not just a deserter,” Esther said. “Have you seen any strangers in town?”
“I’ve stayed close to home, so no,” Jenny said. She smiled at Will. “William has been good enough to run errands for me. I won’t let Maria out alone, but Will is sharp enough to spot trouble.”
Will was pleased to hear Mama’s compliment, but he soon grew bored with the women’s talk. They whispered about babies and such, and he overheard Mama say she was expecting again. He glanced at her—he hadn’t noticed her puking in the chamber pots like she usually did before she started showing a big belly. But then, he hadn’t paid her much attention. He’d been caught up in his worries about whether to go to Harvard.
Will wandered into the other downstairs room where Esther’s younger children squabbled. Cordelia, the oldest Abercrombie daughter who was almost Will’s age, smiled at him. “Hey, Will. Would you play marbles with George and Tom? I’ve got my hands full with Dan, Essie, and Abe.”
Will shrugged. He hadn’t come visiting to shoot marbles with little boys, but it was better than listening to Mama and Esther. So he played until the younger boys calmed down. Meanwhile, Cordelia got twins Dan and Essie to play quietly with blocks, then took toddler Abe upstairs for a nap.
