Cal turned sober. “Gee, Will, this is splendid. It’s like the one I broke last spring. I’m sorry for that.”

“It took me a couple of tries to get the one for Maria right. This was one of my attempts. It’s not quite like Shanty. The wood wouldn’t let me get the markings right.”

“I like it fine,” Cal said, rubbing his thumb over the wood.

“Enjoy your party,” Will said, and sauntered off to find guests his own age. Maria was across the room talking with Jonah, Cordelia, and Sammy.

“What’s next for you, Will?” Jonah asked him. “You gonna work with Sheriff Thomas?”

Will shrugged. “Maybe. If Mac can’t find anything for me to do.”

“I don’t know how you could be so brave,” Cordelia said. She didn’t quite bat her eyes at Will, but she came close. He caught Maria’s eye as she tried to stifle a smile.

“I just did what anyone would.” Will wondered how much of the tale Daniel had told his family. And, of course, Daniel hadn’t been there for the most important part.

“Well,” Cordelia said, putting her hand on Will’s arm and leaning into him. “I was never so scared as when Pa told us the story. And I worried so about Grandfather Samuel—Pa said he fell off his horse on a jump.”

Will raised an eyebrow. So that’s why the sheriff’s group had been delayed—Samuel Abercrombie had taken a spill. He was glad the old man hadn’t broken any bones, but he shouldn’t have been there in the first place. He’d caused the posse’s plans to go awry, which might have contributed to the deputy’s death.

Later, as the party wound down, Will thought again about Jonah’s question. What did come next for him? He still needed an occupation.

When the guests had departed and the women were cleaning up, Mac called Will into his study. He might as well talk to the boy now.

“Have a seat,” Mac invited.

Once Will was seated, Mac poured his son a single finger of whiskey and handed him the glass. Will took it with a look of surprise. Then Mac poured two fingers for himself. He held up his glass, “To Cal—may he have many more birthdays.”

“Many more,” Will said, and sipped. Mac suppressed a grin when Will stifled a cough.

“I want you to consider going to Harvard next fall,” Mac said. “I think it would do you a world of good.”

“What do you mean?” Will said.

“You’re a bright young man, and you would do well to further your education. You’re bored here in Oregon, and you need a vocation that will occupy your mind.”

Will hesitated, then said, “Why would you send me East?”

Mac hadn’t expected that question. “You’re my son. I want the best for you.”

Will heaved a sigh and stared at his glass.

Mac leaned across his desk toward Will. “The world has seen you as my son since the day you were born. I have treated you as such since I returned from California when you were just a lad. I love your mother, and you are her child—and I love you as my own.”

Will nodded, but his face remained skeptical.

Mac sat back in exasperation. “Have I ever treated you any differently than Cal or Nate?”

“No.”

“Have I ever treated Maria any differently than Eliza or Louisa or Maggie?”

“No.”

Mac waved his hand, careful not to spill his whiskey. “Jenny mothers all of you equally, including Maria, and I seek every day of my life to live up to her example. I fail many times in many ways to win her approval, but I pray to God I do not fail in treating you as my son.”

Will’s face relaxed. “You don’t, Pa. But why send me away?”

Mac breathed a sigh of relief when Will called him “Pa.” Maybe Will was simply concerned about leaving home. “Don’t you want to go East?”

Will hesitated, then said, “I’d like the education. But I’d miss Mama and the youngsters. I still don’t know where I fit in here.”

Mac leaned forward. “Jenny’s father was a scholar as well as an Army officer, Will. She says you take after him. But it doesn’t matter where you got your intelligence. As your father, it is my responsibility to help you make the most of what you can be. And that’s why I want you to go to Harvard. The college helped me find my path away from my parents, and I believe it will help you as well.”

“Then you’re not just trying to send me away?” Will asked. “To get me away from the family. And from Maria.”

Mac set his glass down with a thump. “Is that what you think? That I want you out of the house?” He chuckled. “Believe me, there are cheaper ways to get rid of you than sending you East to college.” Then he turned serious. He should talk to Will about Maria. “There’s no legal reason you and Maria can’t marry someday, if that’s what you both want. But marriage is a complicated relationship. So take it slowly, Will. If you want to marry her, then earn her trust and her love. Be the best man you can be before you ask her.”

Will nodded slowly and sipped his whiskey. “I understand, Pa.”

Mac felt his throat grow thick, and he gulped his whiskey to conceal his emotion. Then, until they both emptied their glasses, he and Will spoke of mundane things.

That night, Will sat in his room thinking. Pa was right—an education at Harvard would open many doors—including doors to opportunities Will couldn’t even fathom now.

He didn’t like leaving home. It felt like he had just come home, just found his family again. He’d lost his family when Johnson attacked them in the spring. He’d felt so far away from Mac—Pa—and from Cal and the younger children. Only Mama and Maria had seemed to care for him.

But Pa came to get him at Fort Klamath—and he’d searched for Will before that. Mama told him she’d pushed Pa to go after Will, but they hadn’t known where to look. She’d said Pa stayed in Oregon to be there when Will returned, rather than go to Boston after his father’s death.

And after Will’s return from the reconnaissance expedition, he and Pa had vanquished Johnson. In that battle, they’d begun to forge a new path together as father and son. Pa was trying to build that path, and Will would try, too.

Yes, he’d go to Harvard. To make Pa happy. But even more importantly, because it would be another reconnaissance—this time into what Will could become as a man.

He took out his well-worn journal and wrote,

November 26, 1864. Pa gave me whiskey tonight and we talked. I will go to Harvard next fall. The prospect excites me.

Chapter 69: Heading East

Will stood on the deck of the steamship in Portland, Pa beside him. They were leaving for Boston. It was July 1865. The War was won, and President Lincoln was dead. As was Jacob Johnson—hung after a quick trial just weeks after the posse caught him.

Will waved to Mama below them on the dock. The whole family had traveled from Oregon City to Portland two days earlier to see Will and Pa off. The younger children had never been as far as Portland. It amused Will to watch Cal lord it over their younger siblings, pointing out various landmarks that Cal had only seen once before—when they’d made the trip with Pa to see the telegraph office.

Mama blew Will a kiss. He couldn’t blow a kiss back to his mother—no grown son would do that. But he felt his eyes glisten as he waved his arm wildly. He would miss her. She cried when she helped him pack his trunk.