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  ‘Do you …’ she stopped and started again. ‘I do not believe she’s been interfered with. But I saw bruises on her arms.’

  ‘What do you know of Mr Bennett?’ Rees asked.

  Color began seeping into Bernadette’s cheeks. ‘You can’t possibly believe Mr Bennett is at fault. Why, I’ve known him most of my life. And I delivered his last four babies.’

  Rees grunted. He did not wish to comment since he had met Mr Bennett only once. But after twenty years of investigating all the reasons people harmed one another, he could not blindly agree to Bernadette’s loyal assessment of the man.

  ‘Do you know any of the other families living on Gray Hill?’ he asked.

  Biting her lip she shook her head. ‘Only a few. There is another midwife who lives there. Well, she isn’t really a midwife so much as a healer. Granny Rose. But I know she delivers a lot of babies as well as tends to broken bones and other things.’

  Rees peered at Bernadette, hearing something in her voice. Not dislike exactly but wariness. ‘You don’t like her,’ he said.

  Bernadette shook her head. ‘It isn’t that I don’t like her. But I don’t trust her. She hasn’t been properly trained. Why do you think Hortense went to deliver the Bennett’s baby? And the Bennetts aren’t the only family we’ve been called to.’ She clasped her hands, her expression softening into hope. ‘Maybe she went to one of the other families? For shelter, I mean?’

  Rees guessed she was trying hard not to imagine the worst so he simply nodded. When the thud of heavy boots sounded on the wooden step outside he jumped to his feet and hurried to the door. Rouge and three men from town stepped into the kitchen. Snow-covered and red-faced with the cold, they stamped their feet, sending snow flying across the wooden floor.

  ‘It’s really coming down,’ Rouge said. ‘We didn’t even make it halfway up the hill. We tried but the snow is turning into a blizzard.’ He looked at his sister with ill-concealed worry. ‘I hope Hortense …’ He couldn’t go on.

  With a shaky smile, Bernadette stepped forward and put her hand on his sleeve.

  ‘Rees found her, Simon. She’s here; Hortense is here.’ She gestured toward the front parlor and Rouge hurried to the door. Seeing his niece asleep under the layers of quilts, he smiled.

  ‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘Thank God.’ When he turned to look at Rees, Rouge’s eyes were full of tears. His swiped his arm across his face. ‘Where did you find this foolish girl?’

  ‘In the woods,’ Rees said, closing the door. As the constable’s deputies shed their outer garments the earthy smell of unwashed bodies and clothing began to permeate the kitchen. With four men in the room, it felt small and cramped. Joseph began to wail and Lydia went to comfort him.

  ‘Is Hortense all right?’ Rouge said, returning to the front door. He discarded his coat and stepped out of his wet boots.

  ‘Oh Simon,’ Bernadette said, ‘Hortense was out there in the snow without her boots or her cloak.’

  Rouge turned to stare at his sister. ‘What? Why? What happened?’

  ‘We don’t know. She hasn’t awakened yet.’

  The constable carried his coat and scarf to the hearth in front of the fire and dropped them on the floor. ‘Let’s see if we can bring her round,’ he said. As he drew his sister through the door and into the parlor, Lydia, frowning, picked up the clothing and hung the coat on a hook. Catching sight of Rees’s boots and stockings, she turned and eyed his bare legs and feet with disapproval.

  ‘I’ll go upstairs and put on shoes,’ he said. He thought he would look at his loom as well. He’d begun receiving commissions for mostly simple weaving, and needed the money he would earn to support his family.

  Pressing her lips together, Lydia nodded. Rees squeezed her shoulder. He knew she did not want to be left with all these people in her house. He too was finding the space crowded with strangers and all the noise and upset that came with them. One of the men was smoking a pipe and the smell of tobacco joined the musky odor surrounding the visitors. From where he stood, Rees could hear the rumble of the men’s voices from one side and the conversation between Rouge and his sister on the other. He felt the walls closing in. He went into the much colder hallway and ran up the stairs.

  Instead of his shoes, he slipped an old pair of moccasins over his feet. They were bloodstained but the deerskin lined with rabbit fur would keep his feet warm. Then he went into his weaving room.

  He’d chosen the brightest room. Usually the sun streamed through the south window, even in winter. But today, the combination of the whirling snow outside and the frost spreading across the inside of the glass muted the light. It was curiously soothing.

  Rees lit the kindling he’d arranged in the fireplace. When the flames caught he added a log. This small blaze did very little to beat back the cold. Wrapping himself in a heavy blanket, he put on the fingerless gloves he used here. His hands already felt stiff and he rubbed them together until they warmed.

  The weaving pattern, a twill, was a simple design he’d selected for Jerusha. He intended to teach her to weave and at first the instruction had gone well. She displayed a natural aptitude. But lately … he sighed. Since Simon had elected to return to Dugard and stay with David, Jerusha had been a different, and far more difficult child. The lessons had not gone well. Shaking his head, he picked up the shuttle and threw it through the warp. With such a simple pattern he did not have to think about it at all. The cold room faded around him as his mind traveled to a different place.

  Who, he asked himself, had spent so much effort capturing Hortense? And why? She was a young and pretty girl and he feared that might be the reason. Perhaps Mr Bennett had been attracted to her? Maybe the other midwife was jealous?

  When the weather cleared Rees would insist on accompanying Rouge on a trip up Gray Hill and question Mr Bennett and Granny Rose himself.

  FOUR

  Once Rees caught his rhythm weaving, his mind drifted away completely. It seemed as though only a few moments had passed when Lydia spoke behind him. ‘They want to leave now and take Hortense with them.’

  ‘What?’ Rees turned away from his loom. He had been so deeply engrossed he hadn’t heard his wife come in. He felt now as though he were swimming up through some thick white light to consciousness. As he returned to himself, he realized his feet were numb and the fingers that protruded from his gloves were white with cold. The fire, small to begin with, had sunk down to a few glowing coals. His neck was stiff as well and he rubbed his hand over it to push out the kinks. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘The constable and his sister. They want to return home and take Hortense with them.’ Lydia’s tone was taut.

  Rees glanced out the window. The snow still fell, so thickly he could barely see the barn. ‘They can’t leave,’ he said. ‘And they certainly can’t take Hortense. She’s unconscious. And Rouge has only a horse.’

  ‘Bernadette drove over in her wagon,’ Lydia said.

  ‘But Hortense—’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Lydia said, interrupting her husband. ‘I wasn’t suggesting Bernadette take her daughter home in that. Or in anything.’ The sharpness in her tone caught Rees off guard and he looked at her more closely. She was clenching her hands together so tightly the knuckles were white. ‘They won’t listen to me,’ she added. Her angry voice echoed in the empty room.

  ‘I’ll be down directly,’ he said, stripping off his gloves and moving toward the fire. As Lydia turned to descend the stairs, he knelt to smother the few remaining glowing coals. Then he followed his wife to the first floor.

  ‘We’ve trespassed upon your hospitality too long,’ Bernadette was saying as Rees entered the kitchen. ‘I’m so very grateful to you.’

  ‘I think it is a mistake to take Hortense into the cold,’ said Lydia.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Rees in agreement. ‘She’s still not awake.’ The irony of his speech was not lost upon him; he had wanted these unexpected guests to leave and now that they were planning on it he
was throwing out objections. ‘I fear she will not survive another journey through the storm.’

  ‘But I need to bathe and change clothes,’ Bernadette said. ‘And I think she will recover more quickly if she is in her own home.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ Rees agreed with a nod. ‘But she is not able. Who knows what will happen if you move her now, taking her out once again into the snow.’

  Bernadette sighed and touched the unruly hair falling to her shoulders. ‘I wish I didn’t agree,’ she said.

  ‘Of course you may stay as well,’ Lydia said, moving forward. ‘Please, don’t worry yourselves on that score.’

  Rouge shuffled his feet and, although he did not speak, Rees knew the constable was anxious to return to his tavern.

  ‘Or you may leave her here and return for her in the morning,’ Rees said. ‘No doubt she will have come to her senses by then.’ Although he sounded certain, he was not. He knew there was no telling when Hortense might come to herself – if, indeed, she ever did.

  Rouge cast Rees a quick look. ‘You will of course take that opportunity to plague her with demands for answers.’ It was not a question. He had now investigated murders twice with Rees and was quite familiar with the weaver’s curiosity.

  ‘Of course,’ he said with a smile. ‘It’s important to find out exactly what happened.’

  Rouge turned an inquiring glance upon his sister. She blew out a breath and then nodded. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Thank you. I shall return tomorrow to claim my daughter.’

  ‘I hope the snow allows you to return,’ Lydia said, her brow puckering as she turned her gaze toward the kitchen window.

  ‘I don’t believe this weather will continue much longer,’ Rouge said, gesturing as though to dismiss the snow as unimportant. ‘And I’ll bring my sled. Warmly wrapped, Hortense should easily manage the journey into town.’

  Bernadette extended her hand to Rees. ‘And again I offer my thanks. Mere words cannot express the depth of my gratitude. What would I have done without your assistance?’

  Rees, made awkward by the effusive thanks, stuttered helplessly for a moment until Lydia took pity on him. ‘You delivered our wonderful Sharon,’ she said to Bernadette. ‘Of course we are happy to help you in any way we can.’

  With much stamping and loud conversation the visitors went out into the cold and blowing snow. Rees, looking after his departing guests, did not think the snow would end as quickly as Rouge predicted; it fell in a white curtain of tiny flakes. The air was much colder than it had been earlier this morning. Shivering, he closed the door. He was already dreading the inevitable excursion into the cold for evening chores.

  The house seemed very empty and quiet once Rouge and his deputies had departed. Lydia flapped her apron a few times to disperse the lingering odor of tobacco. ‘At least no one was spitting,’ she said to herself.

  Rees, reluctant to return to his loom in the cold room upstairs, peeked into the front room. Jerusha had taken possession of the chair in which Bernadette had sat just a few minutes previously. ‘Hortense is sleeping,’ she said. With a nod, Rees entered the room and peered at the unconscious girl. Only her face could be seen above the coverings. But the chamber felt warmer and when he bent over Hortense he saw that the color had begun to return to her cheeks. With any luck, she would awaken tomorrow morning fully recovered.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be helping your mother?’ he asked Jerusha. Scowling, she rose reluctantly and dragged herself unwillingly into the kitchen.

  Ignoring his daughter’s pique, Rees followed on her heels. He was eager to tell Lydia the good news.

  He spent the remainder of the morning and most of the afternoon mending tack and tools. As Rouge had anticipated, the snow began to thin and by mid-afternoon had stopped. By three thirty the sun began its descent toward the horizon. When Rees, accompanied by Jerusha and Nancy, went outside to finish evening chores, long shadows stretched across the white ground. It was already too dark to see under the trees and around the barn. While Nancy collected eggs from the hens, Jerusha put the wooden yoke over her shoulders and trudged up the slope to the stream. In her old, faded, blue cloak, she soon disappeared into the shadows.

  Fetching water had been Simon’s job but now Jerusha was responsible. Rees knew she hated going: hated the wooden yoke, hated the walk even in the good weather. Now it would be a cold trip and she would have to break the ice in the stream besides. This sudden bitter cold would freeze the top of even the fast-moving water.

  He went into the barn to throw down some hay for Daisy and her calf.

  ‘Here, chick, chick,’ Nancy called. Rees glanced through the barn door and saw her scattering grain and scraps upon the snow. Clucking, the chickens left their perches and ran outside. In a mass of bobbing heads, they pecked at the food. Nancy crawled inside the chicken coop to fetch the eggs.

  He finished milking his cow and carried the full pail to the house. He looked around for Nancy. Her bright, recently dyed, blue cloak circled the yard as she hunted for eggs. He sometimes wondered if the more rebellious hens purposely hid their eggs just so she had to hunt for them. But every single one must be found. With winter, the number of eggs produced by the hens had dropped dramatically and every egg was valuable.

  ‘Nancy?’ Rees said. She held up the basket. Rees could see a few eggs inside, perhaps half a dozen. ‘All right. Come inside.’ He waited for her to climb the steps and go through the door before he followed her.

  As he started up the steps he heard a scream.

  ‘Father, Father!’ It was Jerusha. He shoved the pail of milk at Lydia and ran back outside once again, sprinting up the slope and then down the other side to the stream. Jerusha was already inside the fence and running toward him. It was much darker than it had been and he could not see her expression until she was almost upon him.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, peering down into her pale face. Her eyes were wide with fright.

  ‘I saw something.’ She turned and pointed at the screen of trees at the northern end of the property. ‘Something moving.’

  Rees tried to stare through the gloom but the line of trees was nothing more than a black shadow. Winter in the District of Maine meant early nightfall. ‘Maybe wolves,’ he said, although he did not hear howling. ‘They won’t get through the fence.’ He was lying; he wasn’t certain of that. The previous winter had been a hard one and he’d heard of wolves carrying off small children. He wasn’t sure he believed that and anyway an eleven-year-old would be too big. But he knew several farmers hereabouts who’d lost livestock and Lydia had seen one of her precious chickens carried away – although that could have been by a fox.

  Wondering if he should begin carrying his gun, Rees examined the dark line of pines, the tops sharp as spears against the gray sky. He saw nothing. But Jerusha, trembling, clutched at his coat in terror.

  ‘We’ll go to the stream together,’ he said, lifting the wooden yoke from her shoulders. She had spilled most of the water from the buckets during her frantic run.

  Since the wooden yoke was too small to fit over Rees’s broad shoulders he carried the buckets in his hands. He and Jerusha walked quickly; with nightfall approaching the air was so cold it felt solid. His fingers ached even through the thick woolen gloves. And he had to re-break the layer of new ice over the stream. In the short time since Jerusha had raised the alarm a cloudy frozen skin had begun forming over the hole she’d cut.

  Lydia looked at them in surprise when they entered the door together but did not comment as Rees poured the water into the barrel by the sink.

  ‘Hortense is awake,’ she said.

  Rees hurriedly unwound his scarf and tossed it at the peg by the door. He sat down to unlace his boots and impatiently wrench them off before padding into the parlor in his stocking feet.

  ‘Hortense,’ he said as he stepped through the door. She was still on the couch, seated with her back to the door. He could see her dark brown braid lying across the quilt wrapped around
her shoulders. ‘I want to ask you about …’

  As she tried to free herself from the quilt wrapped around her shoulders, thrashing like some caged bird desperate to escape, Hortense began to scream and scream and scream.

  FIVE

  ‘Hortense, Hortense.’ Lydia ran into the room. She tried to put her arms around the girl but Hortense was beyond reason and flailing with ungovernable terror. She fetched Lydia a good blow on one cheek before the older woman managed to pin the girl’s limbs to her sides. ‘You’d better leave for now,’ Lydia said to Rees. ‘She was not like this when she woke; you are frightening her.’

  So Rees, reluctantly, withdrew into the kitchen and stood out of sight behind the wall.

  All of the children lined up in front of the door. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ Jerusha asked.

  ‘She’s scared,’ Lydia said. ‘Something’s frightened her.’

  With Rees’s departure, and Lydia’s soothing voice, Hortense began to calm down. Her screams transformed into sobs and within a minute or two she was leaning against Lydia’s shoulder and weeping without restraint.

  ‘You’re safe now,’ Lydia murmured over and over. ‘No one will hurt you here.’

  Rees moved to stand behind his children. Lydia looked over Hortense’s head to meet her husband’s gaze. ‘There’ll be no opportunity to speak with her now,’ she said, her tones still soft and soothing. ‘Maybe after supper. Are you hungry, Hortense?’ He saw the movement of the girl’s head as she nodded. ‘I’ll bring you a bowl of hot soup. That will make you feel better, I promise.’

  Hortense did not want to release her grip upon Lydia but clung even more tightly when Lydia sought to detach herself. After a bit of struggle, she looked at Jerusha. ‘Would you please fill a bowl for Hortense and bring it in?’ As the girl ran to fetch it, Lydia called after her, ‘And mind you don’t spill or burn yourself.’