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a
strong—willed woman, Nathaniel, and some men would run in the other direction.
Richard Todd will, when he figures her out."
    "Not
if she brings the mountain to the match, he wouldn't run. Not if she had two
heads and a tail."
    Hawkeye
drew up suddenly, a hand to his chin. "Aye, you're right. But if she's
half as smart as I think she is—and set against marriage to boot—she won't let
herself be auctioned off like that. And" Hawkeye grinned now, his face a
mass of wrinkles—"it weren't Richard Todd she was starin' at with her eyes
all shiny, every opportunity."
    Nathaniel
inclined his head but said nothing.
    "Your
ma was strong—willed like her." Hawkeye paused again, and when he spoke
there was a loss in his voice that Nathaniel knew well. "You won't be
sorry for it, in the long run. Although she'll tire you out in the chase."
    "I
haven't made up my mind to take up the chase."
    "You
tell yourself that," Hawkeye said, laughing softly. "See if you can
make it stick. I don't think you can.
     

Chapter 4
     
    Although
she went to bed dispirited and unhappy about the possibility that her plans
might be met with her father's reluctance rather than his help and goodwill,
Elizabeth
awoke on
Christmas Eve morning refreshed and with her resolve restored. It was very
early, the sun just coming up over the mountains, and the deep cold of the
night had not yet begun to loosen; nevertheless Elizabeth could not stay in her
bed, so she washed and shivered her way into her clothes, and ran down the
steps to the kitchen.
    Standing
in the doorway, she was greeted by a blast of warm air from the hearth where a
crowd of pots hung from a complex assortment of cranes and trivets. The whole
room glowed with the reflected firelight in copper and pewter swaying from
hooks in the ceiling beams. Against the far wall, baskets of flax and carded
wool waited by a spinning wheel, and next to that a young girl worked a loom with
the quick and automatic motions of the practiced weaver.
    Another
young woman stood at a rough wooden table peeling potatoes while Curiosity
kneaded dough, her dark skin dusty with flour to the elbows. She looked up to
see
Elizabeth
standing there and grinned.
    "An
early riser! Yes, I knew it, an early riser. You must be hungry. Breakfast
won't be for a while yet but come sit down and Daisy here will do her best.
Daisy is my second oldest. Daisy! Say g'd day to Miss Elizabeth. Over there
that's my Polly on the loom. And that there is Manny, just on his way out now
to see to the firewood, weren't you, sweet thing?"
    Manny
was a strapping youth with a wide grin, but
Elizabeth
barely got a good look at him
before he disappeared at his mother's bidding. She turned her attention to
Daisy, who smiled at
Elizabeth
without a bit of shyness. She was slightly built but wiry, not quite so dark as
her mother, but with a great abundance of hair tucked up into her cap. On one
cheek there was a red birthmark in the shape of a flower, and
Elizabeth
realized that this must be the
source of her name.
    Daisy
wiped her hands on her apron while she considered
Elizabeth
.
    "Biscuits
and honey, that should tide you over. And fresh milk."
    "That
sounds lovely,"
Elizabeth
said, "but I would like to take a walk first—"
    "A
walk in this cold weather before you have good food in you?" Curiosity
shook her head.
    Uncertain,
Elizabeth
glanced out the window. It had begun to snow, and the sky was leaden.
    "
Paradise
ain't going no place, before you have some
breakfast," Curiosity stated, and in response Daisy began to butter
biscuits.
    There
was a high stool at the table and
Elizabeth
took it, waiting for Curiosity to protest that she should eat in the dining
room, but there was no such complaint; Curiosity went back to her bread dough
and Daisy to her potatoes. The rhythmic thump of the loom made a nice
counterpoint to the steady hiss of the fire in the hearth.
    The
biscuits were delicious and the milk was fresh;
Elizabeth
realized suddenly that she was