“I don’t know.” Zeke shrugged. “I didn’t want to get into it with Samuel. I was mad enough at him already. No need to start blatherin’ when I wasn’t thinkin’ straight.”
Mac clapped Zeke on the back. “Good man. Don’t tell Abercrombie anything. I’ll go talk to him now, find out what he heard directly. But I don’t want him to try to put two and two together.”
Mac rode to Abercrombie’s claim. Samuel was chopping kindling in the heat of the day. Mac took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “Got another hatchet?” he asked.
Samuel gestured with his thumb.
Mac picked up a hatchet with a scarred wooden handle and started chopping alongside the older man. “Zeke says you weren’t happy with the ditch.”
“No water flowin’ to my land.”
“What’d your lawyer say?”
“You musta paid him off.” Abercrombie glared at Mac. “You got the money to do so. But he agreed to pursue my case in court.”
Mac shook his head. “I didn’t pay anyone. I only got involved to help you and Zeke work things out.”
“Then you left town to go after your runaway. Left us in the lurch. Made me spend money on Elliott, weasel though he be.”
“Daniel and I had to look for our boys in Eugene. And once the water flows again, the ditch will provide you with your share from the creek.” Mac kept chopping. He figured his labor would soothe Abercrombie eventually.
After a while, Abercrombie raised the topic Mac sought to hear about. “Man come around askin’ ’bout you and Miz Jenny.” The old man squinted and crossed his arms across his beefy chest. “Name of Jacob Johnson. What’s that all about?”
“What did he say?” Mac asked, continuing to chop.
“Said he knew you back in Missouri. Said he was closer to Miz Jenny ’n he had a right to be.” Abercrombie spat his tobacco juice across the yard. “Though he didn’t say it quite so politely.”
Mac stopped chopping at that and eyed Abercrombie. “You’ve known Jenny for years. Have you ever known her to behave inappropriately?”
Abercrombie spat again. “I like Miz Jenny. Always have. She’s a good woman. But a man wouldn’t talk that way about her without some reason.”
“No reason,” Mac said, picking up another piece of wood. “No damn reason at all.” He turned to Abercrombie. “If you see him again, I hope you tell him so. Meanwhile, let’s get your woodpile stocked.”
They chopped the rest of the wood in silence.
At Mac’s request, Jenny followed him upstairs when he returned home. He peeled off his sweat-stained shirt and handed it to her. Then he said, “Jacob Johnson talked to Abercrombie. About us.”
She sat on the bed, twisting his shirt in her hands. “Oh, no.” She thought again of that evil day, as she did whenever she heard Johnson’s name.
“Samuel didn’t seem to know much.”
“He’s so unpredictable, Mac.” If Samuel Abercrombie started talking to others in town, it wouldn’t merely be the end of Jenny’s reputation. The gossip would hurt the children as well. Particularly the girls.
And most especially Maria, who was already the subject of many raised eyebrows among women in town. Some girls in her former school had called her a squaw. The girl’s mixed blood would become a bigger issue when she reached marriageable age—which she was rapidly approaching.
“You have to stop him, Mac,” she said, holding her belly. Soon there would be another child to bear the brunt of the gossip.
“We’re fortunate,” Mac said. “Abercrombie likes you. I don’t think he’ll say anything.”
“But you can’t be sure,” she whispered. “He gets so angry. Maybe we should send Maria away.”
“Maria?” Mac said. “Whatever for?”
“With the new baby coming, I won’t be able to teach her properly. Hannah says Abigail Duniway still needs a helper. Maybe Mrs. Duniway would be a good role model for Maria. She certainly has shown gumption in starting a girls’ school in Lafayette.”
Mac kissed the tip of her nose. “You have just as much gumption as Mrs. Duniway. I want Maria here. She should be helping you, not some schoolmarm.”
That night, Mac lay awake as Jenny slept. He worried after hearing Jacob Johnson was in the area. No good could come of Johnson remaining near Mac’s family.
The next morning, Mac went to see Sheriff Thomas. He found the lawman enjoying his first smoke of the day. His deputy, Adam Albee, sat reading the newspaper. Thomas offered Mac a cigar, which Mac took.
After Mac told the men about his conversation with Samuel Abercrombie, the sheriff frowned at him. “Are you sure there ain’t more to your past with Johnson than you’re lettin’ on?”
Mac shook his head. “I told you I killed his father while defending my wife. That’s reason enough for him to keep bothering us.”
“I suppose so.” Sheriff Thomas puffed on his cigar. “Now, as to Abercrombie’s threats—”
“I want to stop him from slandering my wife,” Mac said, pointing his cigar at the sheriff in emphasis. “What can you do?”
“Not much.” Sheriff Thomas puffed again. “I can have a word with Abercrombie, but that old coot don’t listen to no one.” Albee snorted in agreement from behind his newspaper. “Probably best to leave Abercrombie be,” the sheriff continued.
“What about Johnson?” Mac asked.
