Fairer than Morning (38 page)

“Is there anything fairer than morning?” she murmured, not expecting an answer.

He was quiet for a moment. “I can think of three things.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You can?”

He met her gaze. “Freedom.”

She smiled. “And?”

“Heaven.”

“Well, yes. But that's hardly a fair comparison.” She teased him to lighten the seriousness of his expression. “And the third?”

He had bowed his head over the handle of the hoe. He looked up sideways and met her gaze. He said nothing.

Just as her cheeks began to burn, he turned and lifted the hoe in his hand. He walked toward the barn.

Why had he refused to answer and given her such a curious look? She took a few quick steps to the wall of the house, bent to retrieve her second seed bottle, and rushed back up the stoop into the kitchen. Her father's apprentice might have improved himself tremendously since coming to their home, but he still lacked social graces.

Breakfast had to be made. Her flustered annoyance made her snatch the poker and stir the banked fire in the hearth so hard that sparks flew up the chimney.

Thirty-Five

W
ILL LOOKED OUT THE STAGECOACH WINDOW AT THE
streets of Cincinnati, grateful for an excuse not to stare at Ann sitting across from him, a hat tied in a graceful bow under her firm little chin. She sat next to her father, reading a book that she held in one hand while the saddler read a newspaper.

The discovery that Ann was accompanying them to Pittsburgh had taken Will by surprise. Why would she go to the trouble? Surely she would prefer to stay with Mr. Milksop, though that blond dandy was not nearly good enough for her.

He had thought far too often of Eli Bowen in the past few days, and never with pleasure. He had to gain control of the jealousy that rampaged through him like a herd of wild pigs. Like the demon-possessed pigs in the Bible, in fact. He wished he could send them into the lake, as the Lord had. He would reread that story later. Since coming to Mr. Miller's farm three weeks ago, he had spent every quiet moment studying the Bible, often by firelight. He had already read through all of the New Testament and was halfway through the Old, though he had skipped Deuteronomy and Leviticus. They did not seem as important to the great story he was following. He would read them some other time.

The driver of the stage coach yelled and the coach swerved. Will wondered what hapless person they had just avoided. As they rattled along the streets, the noise of their passage joined the din of scores of cart and coach wheels and the yells of boys hawking papers and what-have-you from the sides of the road. The familiar odors of the city intruded again—smoke, though not as strong and acrid as in Pittsburgh, a sickly smell of rot from the riverfront, and the mingled foulness of a hundred other types of refuse that flew into the streets every day from homes. A shudder crept over him as he remembered Pittsburgh.

They pulled up at the stagecoach station, which was a tavern. As Mr. Miller and then Will stepped down to the street, hostlers ran out past them and began to unharness the horses. Will turned back to hand Ann down from the coach, telling himself that the feel of her gloved hand in his did not delight him, but knowing he was a liar. She smiled at him, her cheek dimpling. Then she held a little nosegay of pink blooms to her face. He did not blame her. He would do the same if he were a woman and had some way to keep the stench away without looking unmanly.

The driver threw down their bags, which were minimal, just one large case per person. Will hefted his own and Ann's while Mr. Miller grabbed his own and led them without delay down the wharf. “The packet will leave soon,” he said over his shoulder.

The steamboat
Emissary
was moored at the dock. Ann and her father did not seem impressed by it, proceeding to the packet office matter-of-factly, but Will could not take his eyes off the huge vessel as he followed the Millers.

In minutes, Mr. Miller had purchased tickets. They hurried up the gangplank, where it looked as if the rest of the passengers had already boarded and were moving around the decks. Mr. Miller beckoned Will to come with him toward the bow while Ann headed for the stern like a seasoned traveler.

After Will had marveled at the maritime neatness of their two-bunk stateroom, the boat shuddered to life under their feet, and clanging bells announced its departure. Will and Mr. Miller walked to the stern, where they found Ann leaning against the railing, watching the dock as they drifted away from it. She appeared to be deep in thought and only smiled halfheartedly when Mr. Miller broke her reverie with a comment on the spectators waving farewell.

They stood there watching for a few minutes, Ann between Will and her father. As they pulled away from the city, the trees by the river spread great clouds of pink and white blossoms along the banks. Their ethereal lightness made him want to hold Ann's hand.

“It's a magnificent sight,” he said.

“Yes.” She seemed drawn in by the beauty around them as well. It was like a fairyland, steaming up the river between forests of pink and white, the blossoms quivering with the slightest wind.

“Do you like traveling by steam?” He wanted to speak with her, on any subject at all.

“Oh yes.” She still seemed distracted. She looked down, removing her gloves one finger at a time and stowing them in her small handbag. “Our previous journey was very eventful.”

“In what way?”

She closed her handbag with a sharp pull at its strings. “Many ways.” She turned and leaned forward to speak to Mr. Miller. “I think I shall retire until dinner, Father.”

The saddler took his daughter's hand and pressed it. “Of course.” Will wondered what had happened on that previous trip. Mr. Miller was solicitous, and Ann disturbed.

She walked around the end of the ladies' cabin, her perfect carriage not disturbed by the motion of the floor beneath her.

Mr. Miller and Will passed the time at the rail in pleasant conversation about the boat and the people on it. Then the conversation turned to Scripture and some of the strange stories in Genesis that Will had read recently. He was so absorbed by Mr. Miller's explanations that dusk crept up before he knew it.

“Well, we had better dress for dinner.” Mr. Miller stepped back and touched his hat as a lady passed in an amber-colored dress bedecked with feathers.

“Yes, sir.” Will followed the saddler back to the stateroom, where they unpacked their cases. There was an empty wooden bowl on a small fixed shelf between the bunks. Mr. Miller took it, left for two or three minutes, and returned with water in the bowl. He produced a bar of soap from his case and shaved quickly and precisely. Will followed him, drying his face with the small white towel that was a little dingy, but serviceable.

Mr. Miller had loaned Will an evening coat and collar to wear for meals on the boat. To his surprise, the saddler also produced a second hat from a hatbox in his case. It was not as tall as Mr. Miller's top hat, but its blackness gleamed in the cabin light. Will took it from Mr. Miller's hands, careful not to bend the brim.

Mr. Miller opened the door and stepped over the maritime sill. He fit his own hat to his head, then turned back to watch as Will navigated the step and donned his hat.

“Excellent,” Mr. Miller said. The saddler looked Will up and down. “Indistinguishable from any other cabin passenger, son.”

Will's confidence surged and he took a deep breath. Mr. Miller led the way to the ladies' cabin to wait for Ann.

Ann pushed a hairpin into place to trap a loose wave that always liked to come down at inopportune times. She would not be late to dinner this time, now that she had no little girls to chatter and ask questions and lose their stockings. She missed her sisters already. It had been hard to leave them with Mrs. Sumner. She had never left them, not since her mother died. It was more painful than she had expected, and she found herself having to pray down the worry.

She fastened the last of the long row of buttons on the wine-red dress. It was presentable—as well made and flattering as the dresses the other ladies had worn the last time. Retying the bow of her hat, she tried to use her hand mirror to examine herself by holding it far away and then close, and then far away. The cabin lamp was too dim for her to see well.

She put the mirror in her handbag and stepped out of her stateroom. Her father had told her to meet him at the door to the ladies' salon, and so she headed sternward. After a few yards of curving deck, she spotted her father, looking very gallant in his evening coat. Behind him stood someone else in evening coat and hat.

She blinked twice in the twilight. The handsome young man in the evening coat was Will. She had noticed, of course, that the marks of his abuse had faded. But she had not expected that his evening attire would transform her view of him in quite this way, allowing her to see him as if she had never known that starved, beaten person who had once lived at Master Good's house.

Mr. Miller looked at Will with paternal pride. “Why don't you escort my daughter to dinner? You should learn how to do these things.”

Will stepped to her side and offered his arm as if it were second nature.

“Very good, son!” Mr. Miller chuckled. She thought Will flushed slightly under his tan, but could not be sure in the uncertain light from the wall sconce next to him.

She put her arm through his, remembering when she had last done so on this boat with Allan Burbridge. She was disconcerted that Will did not suffer at all in comparison to Allan. In fact, Will's darker hair and his eyes shadowed by his hat brim reminded her of some smoldering hero in one of her novels. She smiled to herself at the ridiculousness of her thoughts. Yet it was always pleasant to walk to dinner on the arm of a well-dressed young man.

He was silent as they followed her father. His arm was steady and he matched his pace to hers, which slowed his longer stride. She was also quiet, trying to accustom herself to this new Will.

When they reached the dining room, the lamplight was ambient and golden as the guests milled about, talking to one another. They had only just crossed the sill when a knot of three young ladies of varying heights broke apart and reassembled itself around the newcomers.

“Good evening!” The tallest extended a hand to Will. He took it and bowed, removing his hat. Had her father been coaching him in etiquette? Admiration mingled with amusement as she watched him greet each young woman with quiet good manners. She had arrived at the ball on the arm of a transformed prince, as if she had walked into a story she would read to her sisters from the Grimms' tales. And yet—her heart softened as she thought it—who could be more deserving than this young man who had proven himself kind and brave on several occasions? Those were the very qualities that graced the ordinary youths in the tales and set them above their enemies.

She was not surprised that the young ladies in the room were drawn to him like so many brightly colored moths. His hint of reserve made him, if anything, more interesting to them.

“And do you follow a trade?”

“He is my partner in saddlery and on the farm,” Mr. Miller interjected from the side, his eyes glinting. Her father seemed to take muted glee in watching his protégé's entrance to the dining room.

These girls did not seem a bit deterred that Will was a craftsman.

“Oh, how fascinating,” the girl in bright blue piped. The taller one in amber next to her gave her a subtle look of disgust. Ann wondered if any of them would speak to her at some point, or if they would go on cooing solely at her escort.

“And what takes you to Pittsburgh?”

Ann was sure this question would flummox him, but just then the captain entered in the same navy brass-buttoned coat he had worn before. They all moved to their seats at the table. Ann had to restrain her smile at the sight of the girls jostling each other with apparent nonchalance as they strove to sit next to Will. The girl in amber won, and the one in blue had to be content with moving to the seat across from them. The girl in green was less aggressive and took the seat next to the girl in amber with a crestfallen air. When the captain bid them be seated, Mr. Miller surveyed the seating arrangement with ill-concealed mischief. Ann had never seen him enjoy himself so in company.