Maria stood dressing in the corner. “I tried to keep them quiet, Mama,” she said. “Did they wake you?”

Jenny shook her head. “It’s time to be up.” She hefted Maggie out of the crib and onto her hip. “Happy birthday, little one.”

“Two,” Maggie said, resting her head on Jenny’s shoulder and sticking her thumb in her mouth.

Jenny nuzzled the toddler’s blond curls, taking in the morning baby smell. Maybe another one wouldn’t be so bad. “Shall we go get ready for a party?”

Esther Abercrombie and Hannah Pershing arrived in midmorning to help Jenny and Mrs. O’Malley with the cooking. Esther’s waist had thickened with yet another pregnancy—this would be her eleventh child, due in late June. She’d miscarried one, but birthed two sets of twins.

Hannah had only two children—twelve-year-old Hope and four-year-old Isaiah. She’d had trouble with other pregnancies and lost several before birth. Privately, Jenny wondered if Hannah’s injured leg—she walked with a pronounced limp—contributed to her difficult pregnancies. But Hannah and her husband Zeke had raised several of Zeke’s orphaned younger siblings, and two of his brothers—grown men now—still lived with them. Hannah seemed happy with her life as a farmer’s wife, though it offered her little opportunity to use the education she’d had in the East.

As usual, Esther chattered non-stop. She complained about her feet hurting. “And I have three more months of my belly growin’ afore I’ll get any relief. Not that birthin’ brings any relief from standin’ and fetchin’.”

Jenny murmured sympathetically. She wasn’t ready to mention her suspicion that she was also pregnant—she hadn’t even told Mac yet.

“I used to pooh-pooh Ma,” Esther continued. “Remember how she always needed to sit and rest as we walked the trail?”

Jenny nodded.

“Well, I understand her a lot better now,” Esther said, stirring the cake batter. “She weren’t much older’n I am now. And I’ve borne more young’uns than she did.” Her expression turned sad. “Oh, how I miss her still.”

Jenny patted Esther’s shoulder on her way to get a ham out of the larder.

“You’re both fortunate to have so many children,” Hannah said. “They’re such a help on the farm.”

Jenny smiled. Trust Hannah to be the practical one. “Maybe, but here in town, they just fill up bedrooms and eat everything in sight.”

“They do that in the country as well,” Hannah said. “But the boys in particular are good workers. Isaiah isn’t old enough yet, but we have Zeke’s brothers.”

“I’m glad they all stayed near Oregon City,” said Esther, who was Zeke’s sister. “All us Pershings stayed close, except Joel.”

“What does Maggie think of her birthday?” Hannah asked.

“Oh, she doesn’t understand birthdays yet,” Jenny said. “Though the older children try to explain.”

Esther chuckled and gave the batter a final stir. “She’ll understand cake once she gets a slice.”

Jenny laughed. “Cake she understands already.”

“And Maria?” Hannah asked. “Does she feel slighted to play second fiddle to her little sister this weekend? After all, this party is for her also.”

Shaking her head, Jenny said, “Maria never acts slighted about anything. She’s such a docile girl. Grateful for everything. Sometimes I think she doesn’t trust that we are truly her family.”

“But she’s lived with you since she was a baby,” Esther said. “How can she think you aren’t her family?”

“Mac has always made it clear she’s adopted,” Jenny said.

“That’s just to squelch the rumors he’s her father,” Esther said. “You’ve never thought he was, have you?”

“Of course not.” Jenny shook her head. “He told me he wasn’t, and that’s enough for me.”

Mac rubbed his forehead after spending the morning in his town office catching up on correspondence. His investments finally seemed to be on a path to growth. He’d written bank drafts to cover the building expenses in Sacramento. But those costs were offset by income from his mining interests in California and from Oregon farmers repaying the loans he’d made them.

He glanced at his pocket watch. Time to head home for the noon meal. As he left his office, he remembered today was Maggie’s birthday. How had he forgotten? The household had been in an uproar all week with preparations for the party tomorrow afternoon.

And Maria’s birthday came later in the month. He smiled, remembering Maria as an infant. Her mother Consuela, part Spanish and part Indian, had been Mac’s friend in California. She’d been a stubborn and independent woman who returned to whoring soon after Maria’s birth, only to have a customer kill her. On her death bed, Consuela pleaded with Mac to take the baby. So Mac brought Maria home to Jenny to raise. Jenny loved the baby as soon as she saw her, and they’d become a family.

Mac locked up his office and stopped at Myers Mercantile on his way home. He found a cloth doll with a china head for Maggie. While he browsed the store for a gift for Maria, he overheard a small group of men talking as they sat around the stove near the counter.

“Confederate deserters been flocking to Oregon,” one man said.

“They ain’t all Confederates,” another said. “Union men, too.”

“Some ain’t even soldiers, just men looking for a quick fortune in the mines, or easy labor,” said a third.

The first man chortled. “Ain’t nothin’ easy ’bout any labor. Least ways, not any I ever found.”

Mac picked up a roll of lace. A piece of this might do for Maria. “Are the deserters dangerous?” he asked the men.

“No more so than other men with nothin’ to do,” came the reply.

“But most of ’em absconded with their Army weapons,” another said. “So they’s armed. I’d keep an eagle-eye on my farmland and barns if I was you.”

“I live in town,” Mac said. “But I’ll pass on the news to my farming friends.” Many of his guests tomorrow would be farmers, and he’d make sure they were aware of potential intruders.

Chapter 5: A Party for Two Sisters

The party for Maria and Maggie had barely begun, and already Will wanted to leave. There were too many people for him to enjoy the occasion. But his parents had pressed him into greeting guests and taking their wraps. “Why can’t Maria and Cal help?” he asked Mama.

She reached up to pat his shoulder. “It’s Maria’s party, she shouldn’t have to work. Cal can carry the coats upstairs. I need you to man the door.”

Cal was nowhere to be found. After carrying one load of cloaks to the girls’ bedroom, the brat disappeared. So Will grabbed Nate by the collar as he passed through the hall from dining room to parlor. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Help with the coats.”

The younger boy pulled away. “Can’t. I’m taking this plate to old Mrs. Abercrombie.”

Jonah’s grandmother Harriet was a nice old lady but didn’t stray far from her husband Samuel Abercrombie. Samuel was a right old bastard—as Will heard Pa say often enough.

The Abercrombies weren’t really Jonah’s grandparents, but Harriet treated him like a grandson. Samuel mostly ignored Jonah.

At least Jonah had the semblance of grandparents in Oregon. None of Will’s grandparents had come West. Pa’s family all resided in Boston, and Will had never met any of them. He also didn’t know Mama’s family. Mama’s father died when she was only a girl. Will was named after him—William Calhoun. Mama’s mother remarried and lived with her husband and their son in Missouri. Mama didn’t speak of them often, though she and her mother exchanged letters from time to time.

It might be nice to have family around. Particularly a grandfather, if he were nicer than Samuel Abercrombie.