The next day was bitterly cold, despite the late April date on the calendar. Will stayed indoors after breakfast, but he was fidgety. Mama didn’t need him to run any errands, and he’d read everything in the house.
Will wandered downstairs, hoping to find a new book or magazine in Mac’s office. He found nothing and drifted into the parlor to stare out the window. He wondered what Jonah was doing. Despite the frigid temperatures, Daniel would have some task to keep them busy. They’d probably be working outside, which would be better than sitting cooped up in the house with nothing to do.
Will put on his coat and dashed out to the carriage house to check on Shanty and Valiente. Rufus followed, yapping at his heels until distracted by a squirrel. Even the horses ignored him when he didn’t offer them a carrot or apple.
When he returned to the house, Will climbed the stairs toward his room, but on a whim continued up the next flight to the dusty attic. Maybe he could find something to do there. He rummaged through old toys and books, but nothing interested him. Foraging into the darkest corner of the attic, Will spotted an old trunk, which he didn’t remember seeing before.
He opened the dusty trunk and found a pair of worn-out saddlebags. Something was inside one bag—a notebook, which he pulled out. Flipping it open, he recognized Mac’s handwriting—a journal. The first entry began, “I killed a man today.” He read on. It was Mac’s account of how he met Mama, starting in March 1847.
Will set the journal aside and reached into the trunk again. Wrapped in calico was another notebook. Mama’s journal, beginning, “In six days I start for Oregon. Will I survive?” Her record of the wagon journey.
He took the saddlebags and notebooks to his room and read all morning.
Will finished the journals before the noon meal. After they ate, he was restless again, prowling the parlor, thinking about what he’d read. Mama had been so young. Mac seemed so uncertain, yet he’d taken over the wagon train as if he’d been born to lead.
Will felt more like Mama than Mac—he should have realized long ago Mac wasn’t his father. They were nothing alike. Will didn’t belong here.
Maria entered the parlor. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Will said, sorry and yet not sorry to have his reverie interrupted. “Where’s Mama?”
“Resting. I think she’s asleep. So is Maggie.”
“It’s so quiet.” Will paced the room, peering out each window in turn.
“Sit down, won’t you?” Maria said. She’d settled in her favorite chair and pulled out her sewing.
“You always have something to do. How do you stay so busy?”
She lifted a shoulder. “There’s always mending. Cal and Nate go through clothes so quickly. And Lottie and Eliza aren’t much better.”
He continued to pace.
“Can’t you be still?” Maria said, sounding annoyed.
“No.”
“Why don’t you take Shanty for a ride? I can manage here. Just be back by dusk.”
Will’s heart leapt. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
That was all the encouragement Will needed. He grabbed his coat, hat, and gloves, then ran to the carriage house. Ten minutes later, he and Shanty were on the road to Jonah’s.
Will spent two hours at Jonah’s house. The boys peeled potatoes for Esther and mucked out the barn. Jonah was still upset with Daniel and complained the whole time they were together. “I’m grown enough to set my own chores,” was Jonah’s complaint today. “I don’t need him tellin’ me every last thing.”
Will listened, wanting to tell Jonah about his own woes, which were far more serious than Jonah’s. But once again, Will demurred from telling Jonah what he’d learned about Mac.
Will left well before dusk, wanting to be home before Maria’s deadline. She’d been kind to him, and he didn’t want to abuse her offer. After he curried Shanty and mucked out the horse stalls, he snuck in the back door and found Maria in the kitchen helping Mrs. O’Malley. Maria’s face was flushed pink from standing over the stove. She looked very pretty.
“You’re back,” Maria said. “Mama’s in the parlor now. She doesn’t even know you left.”
Mrs. O’Malley raised an eyebrow at Will, but said nothing. Will thought he ought to stay on Mrs. O’Malley’s good side. “Can I help here?” he asked.
She gave him a bowl of potatoes to peel and slice. Will shook his head at the irony of peeling potatoes for two families in one day, but quietly set to work.
After supper, Will offered to help Maria wash dishes. He dried while she washed. “Thank you,” he said. “For covering for me this afternoon.”
“What’d you do with Jonah?”
He chuckled. “Peeled potatoes. And cleaned the barn.”
She giggled. “You could have stayed here and done that.”
“I did—I cleaned our horse stalls and peeled potatoes for Mrs. O’Malley, too.”
She laughed again. “Serves you right for leaving.”
“You said you didn’t mind.” Will hoped he hadn’t hurt Maria’s feelings.
“I didn’t,” she said. “I’m teasing you.”
They bantered back and forth until Maria dried her hands. “That’s the last dish,” she said. She moved to pick up the washtub.
Will put down the plate he’d dried. “Let me get that,” he said. “It’s heavy.” He moved next to her and put his hands beside hers on the tub’s handles to take its weight. She looked up at him, smiling.
