by Lorin Grace
Emma!
She rushed to Emma’s room. It was empty, the bed unmade. Then she hurried up to her room in search of her heavy boots. Needing extra light, she pulled back the curtain. The ice-covered window revealed a world buried in at least a half foot of snow. Was this some sort of odd dream—a result of last night’s conversation with Emma? Sarah pressed her hand to the glass but pulled it back immediately as the frost stung her palm. No dream.
She pulled on her heavy woolen stockings and dug her wool pelisse out of the trunk, along with a pair of mittens. She tugged them on as she hurried back down the stairs. The snow in the hallway had already started to melt. Sarah took a moment to check the fire and added a log. The bark pulled a yarn from her mitten. She untangled it. Rushing made her sloppy. But Emma would be cold. Sarah forced herself to slow down. If the log rolled out of the fireplace after she left … Using her teeth, she pulled off her mittens and laid the fire properly.
Satisfied the fire posed no danger, Sarah grabbed her mittens and stepped out the back door, the wind whipping at the loose hairs around her face.
She cursed, then covered her mouth with a mitten. But the word fit.
There were no tracks.
The area between the house and the one behind it was devoid of human life. Sarah quickly made her way back through the house and out the front door, grabbing her shawl on her way and wrapping it around her head. Sarah looked up and down the empty street. Only a few people braved the cold. Horses churned up the snow, and boys were shoveling off porches and walkways. Snow blew off the rooftops, mingling with the few flakes still falling from the sky.
Sarah made her way through the snow as best she could.
The boy across the street looked up. “Hey, Miss Marden! Mama told me to clear the snow at your house next.”
“So kind of you. Have you seen Mrs. Wilson?”
“No, you’re the only lady I have seen out.”
Sarah crossed the street and took the path Noah Larkin had cleared to his home. The front door opened before Sarah could knock.
“Miss Marden, whatever are you doing? Have you ever seen snow in June? I didn’t believe those tales out of Canada, but here we are. Come in!” Mrs. Larkin held the door wide for her.
Sarah shook her head. “Mrs. Wilson is missing. She went out in the night. I started a fire. Can you send one of your girls to tend it for me?”
“Oh, my! What is she doing out in this? Verity! Verity!” Mrs. Larkin’s twelve-year-old daughter came from the kitchen. “Get your cloak and run over to Mrs. Wilson’s to mind the fire. Get some water boiling, too.” Verity nodded and left the room.
Mrs. Larkin turned back to Sarah. “I’ll come over as soon as I can. No doubt you’ll need some warm soup when you find her.”
Sarah cringed at the thought of Mrs. Larkin finding her larder lacking. “Do be careful. The door was open for a while, and I didn’t have a chance to mop.”
“Shall I send Noah with you?”
“No, I am going to go to the livery to see if I can get a horse. But if he and his friends could look around here . . .”
“A horse—you know Mr. Hood won’t let a woman—”
Sarah didn’t want to debate Mr. Hood’s archaic views on a woman’s abilities. “It is still worth a try. I really must hurry.” With any luck, he’ll have a small buggy with runners on it. He would be more likely to rent that out to a woman, especially if he learned she was searching for Emma.
Avoiding the deeper drifts as best she could, Sarah worked her way down the street, asking each person she met if they had seen Mrs. Wilson. No one had.
A hidden layer of ice lurked beneath the snow, threatening to topple her more than once. If Emma had left after most of the snowfall, she could not have gone far, but the amount of snow that had blown inside indicated Emma had been out for hours already.
There were several boys on the green preparing for battle, snowballs and barriers being prepared in earnest. Sarah recognized Davey Sloan, who’d terrorized her class two years ago.
“Davey!”
The redhead looked up and prepared to sprint away.
“Have you seen Mrs. Wilson pass this way?”
“The old woman you live with?” He dropped the snowball he was forming and came over.
She didn’t bother correcting his rudeness regarding Emma. “Did she come this way?”
“Nah, you are the only lady I’ve seen.” The other boys had halted their preparations and moved closer.
“Have any of you boys seen Mrs. Wilson?”
They all shook their heads or shrugged.
“If you see her, will you please walk her back to my house? I don’t want her to slip on the ice.” She didn’t bother inquiring if they knew which house. She was a teacher. They knew.
Mr. Swanson was sweeping the snow off the walk in front of his store. He promised to keep an eye out and ask anyone who came by.
The livery door stood slightly ajar. The elder Mr. Hood looked up from the horse he was brushing. “Miss Marden, what brings you here?”
“I need our horse!”
“I already rented the buggy sleigh to the young doctor, and there is no way I am going to let a young girl ride in this snow.”
Sarah bit back the retort. People always judged her by her size. “Mrs. Wilson is missing. I need to find her.”
“Get some of the boys to go looking for her, and you go back and wait at home.”
“Please, I think she may have walked to her old place or to Samuel’s. If I can ride, I can be there and back so much faster.”
The old man shook his head. “I can’t be responsible for lending you a horse that could kill you. There is ice under the snow.”
“Little Brown is sure-footed. I just need help saddling him.” Unlike his father, Little Brown made an excellent carriage horse and didn’t balk at being ridden sidesaddle, which was why Samuel had boarded him for her use.
The man crossed his arms. “You think your sister’s husband would forgive me if you get yourself killed?”
“Please, Mr. Hood. I must find Mrs. Wilson.”
“Then you better go find a man who can ride.” He turned and walked away.
For the horses’ sake, she willed herself not to scream. Find a man. She clenched her fists. If only it were that easy.
The tiny sleigh glided easily over the snow. Tim was lucky Mr. Hood had runners on any of his buggies in June. No doubt it would get more use before the day ended, but right now all he wanted was a warm fire and a warm drink. The baby he had been called out to deliver arrived before he had as they often did in the first storm of the season. If that was what one could call snow in June. Maybe the traveling minister was correct about it being close to the end of the world. Red and yellow snow in Italy, snow here in June, and Canada had gotten so much snow in May there were rumors of the Canadians not exporting any food this year. If it didn’t warm up soon, Massachusetts wouldn’t grow much to export either.
A woman ran out of the livery and into his path, and he reined in the horse. “Look out!”
She jumped back.
“Sarah?” He came to a stop in front of her. “What are you doing?”
She used her mitten to wipe at her eyes. “Emma is missing! I need to go out to Samuel’s, and Mr. Hood won’t help me saddle Little Brown.”
“Climb up.” Tim extended his hand. “Now, tell me again more slowly.”
As her story lengthened, so did his concern. Mrs. Wilson could have been gone for hours.
“Let’s go check your house quickly. We’ll need some extra blankets when we find her.” He didn’t point out that Sarah was shivering and could use one now. He simply lifted his lap robe and spread it over her too. “Why do you think she went toward Samuel and Lucy’s?”
“Last night Emma thought I was my aunt and kept calling me Mary. Mary died in 1778 during a snowstorm. Emma found her and my mother, who was badly injured. I think Emma may have gone looking for them.”
He pondered her information for a moment. As illogical as Mrs. Wilson’s thinking seemed to be, Sarah had hit upon a good explanation. He stopped the horse in front of her house. “Go get me some blankets, and I’ll go look for her.”
“I am coming with you. There is no telling where Emma thinks she is, and she won’t come with you if she doesn’t recognize you.”
“What if she doesn’t recognize you?”
“She always recognizes me, but as my mother or my aunt or a younger version of Lucy. At least I am always someone she knows.”
Tim helped Sarah down. “If you are coming with me, you are going need to get some dry socks on. I don’t want to be treating both of you.”
Sarah nodded and ran up the now-cleared path to the door, Tim following in her wake. Once inside, she became a model of efficiency, checking with the Larkin girl, then gathering several quilts, which she stacked in Tim’s arms. “Ready.”
“Not until you change your socks and boots, if you own another pair.”
Sarah opened her mouth to argue.
He raised his hand, nearly toppling the blankets. “I don’t want to treat you for frostbite.” Sarah ran up the stairs. From what he could see of her skirt, she could do with changing it too. He yelled after her. “Add an extra petticoat or two!”
A gasp came from the Larkin girl in the kitchen. Likely she wasn’t used to hearing men discuss such things. He nodded in her direction, and she blushed. He hoped she wouldn’t carry any tales.
Nineteen
Wisdom or not, Sarah seethed at the extra time it took her to change her stockings, add an old-fashioned quilted petticoat, and put on an old pair of half boots. Didn’t he realize that Emma could be dying? It didn’t matter if her feet were cold. He was wasting time treating her like a little girl.
She pulled the laces on her boots tight. Her feet were still cold but dry. Maybe he had a point.
Tim told her the hardest part of being an army doctor was performing amputations. She’d rather not have any toes amputated. She ran down the stairs, not wanting to delay a second longer.
Tim waited for her, a steaming mug in hand. He took a drink, then handed it to her. “Finish it and we’ll go.”
The chocolate in milk was bitter but welcome, warming her as it worked its way down her throat.
“Did you eat this morning?”
Sarah shook her head as she drank.
“Miss Larkin, do you see a bit of bread or cheese?”
The girl produced both. Tim took the empty mug and handed the food to Sarah. “You can eat on our way. I don’t need you fainting, either.”
A retort about his heavy-handedness came to mind, but she had already stuffed the cheese in her mouth.
Tiny snowflakes floated softly down.
“At least it is slowing. You should have seen it at three o’clock this morning. I couldn’t see ten feet in front of me,” said Tim as he handed her up into the bench seat. Sarah put the last of the bread in her mouth and replaced her mitten.
“You said between the old Wilson place and Samuel’s farm. Do you know where?”
“Not exactly. Lucy showed me a place she thought Aunt Mary was killed. But she wasn’t sure as Mama never spoke of it and Emma only talks of it when she is lost in the past. There is always the back trail between our farms too, but Lucy believes the attack happened in the woods along the north road.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask more about the history than she wished to tell. The deserters who’d left her mother for dead and killed her aunt had also fathered her sister. Among the women Emma’s age, it was an unspoken secret but hardly one that needed to be brought to light now. Sarah couldn’t stand it when someone treated Lucy poorly due to her origin.
“We’ll stop at John’s on the way. Mrs. Wilson may have stopped there, and he can help look.”
With no other vehicles on the road and the runners gliding swiftly over the snow, they made it to John’s in record time.
John came outside to meet them. As Sarah explained what had happened, his face grew increasingly red. She didn’t need to wait long for the explosion.
“I told you something like this would happen! If Ma is dead, it’s on your head. If you had agreed to my plan and married me––” He took a step forward, but Tim stepped in between them.
Sarah ducked under his arms and placed her hands on her hips. “If you had listened to me, she wouldn’t have been here all day yesterday!”
Tim stepped in front of her. “Fighting is not going to find your mother. Sarah mentioned a back path to Samuel’s. Take your horse and search there. We will stay on the main road.”
“No. Sarah can stay here and watch after my children.”
Don’t talk about me like I am a child. Sarah stretched to try to reach a height she didn’t possess. “Isn’t Lettie here?”
“Of course she is here. Came down yesterday afternoon, so I took Ma back. Perhaps I shouldn’t have.”
“Then she can watch your children. I am going with Dr. Dawes.” Sarah climbed back into the sleigh without assistance.
Tim walked around the vehicle and said to John, “If we are not at Samuel’s, circle back around by the road. If you don’t see us, we found her and took her home. If you aren’t at Samuel’s, we will do the same.”
John glared. “Bring her here.”
“Only if I must. The Larkins will have warm blankets and bricks ready. It will be easier to help her in her own bed.” Tim didn’t wait for a reply before urging the horse into a trot.
Sarah studied the side of the road as they went along. “This is the wooded area Lucy showed me.”
Tim slowed the horse.
“Do you know what Mrs. Wilson is wearing?”
Sarah bit her lip. “I—I didn’t look at her clothing carefully. Her shawl wasn’t by the door when I got mine.”
“What color is it?”
“Probably the blue one, but it has faded to a grayish color.”
“Too bad it isn’t red.”
“Stop!” Sarah pointed to a place where the snow was disturbed. “It looks like somebody’s walked here. I hope it’s more than a deer.”
She didn’t wait for Tim to hand her down. The last thing she wanted to hear was that she should wait. The trees grew thick in this area, and snow fell from the branches in large dollops, making it hard to tell footprints from nature’s snowballs.
“Emma?”
She felt Tim come up behind her. When she didn’t turn around, he touched her shoulder.
“I’m not going back to the buggy.”
“I know. I am going to go over there about ten yards. We can cover more area if we spread out. Look at the base of the larger trees. If she got tired, she may have sat down. Stop when you reach the creek, and we can choose a different area.”
Sarah nodded, and Tim turned north. The wind moaned through the high branches, sending snow down on her head. Tim called for Emma, and Sarah did the same as she forged through the snow-covered trail.
“Emma!”
The only response was Tim echoing her call. A drift at the base of a tree caught her attention. Just a stump.
Sarah followed the trail around a boulder. There on the leeward side of the rock sat Emma. She appeared to be sleeping.
“Tim! Tim!” Sarah brushed the snow off Emma. She thought she felt Emma breathing.
“Where are you?” Tim’s voice echoed off the trees.
“Behind the boulder!”
The strands of the knit shawl were frozen to Emma’s face and hair. Sarah wasn’t sure if she imagined the flutter of Emma’s eyes or
not.
Snow crunched as Tim came closer. “Sarah?”
She stood and waved her arms. “Here!”
Tim plowed through the snow and came to kneel by Emma’s side. “I think she is still alive.” He scooped Emma into his arms. “Walk in front of me. Tell me if there are rocks or branches to avoid.”
Sarah nodded, praying all the way back to the road.
Mrs. Wilson’s half-frozen body was heavier than he expected. Tim didn’t dare voice his doubts or the need for a miracle. He stumbled a few times but managed not to fall, now feeling the absence of every missed moment of sleep. Oh, to be as strong as the Wilson men. Intent on just the next few steps, he focused on Sarah’s back. If he fell or dropped Emma, he knew he didn’t possess the strength to lift her back up.
Voices called out, and shortly after Sarah answered, Samuel Wilson appeared, blocking his way.
“Let me.” Samuel took his mother from Tim’s arms.
Free of the weight, Tim followed them back to the road. Samuel laid Mrs. Wilson in the back of his wagon, which was lined with blankets. “Sarah, climb up here and help me.”
Tim noted Sarah’s frozen skirt hem. While they cared for Mrs. Wilson, he’d need to make sure she got warm and dry. Especially her feet—those flimsy boots were not made for snow.
Samuel turned to face him. “Doctor, my Lucy is heating water and blankets. Since my home is closer, I suggest we go there. We can send word to the Larkins.”
“We should probably get this sleigh back to the livery as well. No doubt others will need it today.”
Samuel nodded and jumped into his wagon. Tim climbed into the converted buggy and only then noted John’s presence. Not sure how to read the man’s expression, Tim called to his horse to trot and followed Samuel to the farm.
Twenty
Sarah heard Emma groan as the wagon hit a bump, and she tightened her grip to keep them from rocking too much in the wagon bed. When the wagon slowed and Samuel pulled up to the porch, Sarah sat up, pulling off the blanket covering her.
