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the horses’ rumps.
    I watched the wagon disappear down the road. ‘And now we are five,’ I thought. ‘And soon, fewer yet.’ I flipped my apron up over my head to hide my tears and went into the house. Betsy followed me, and the men went to the barn.
    From that day on, Amos Redfield never liked the new house. He didn’t move to one of the loft rooms of the old cabin. He kept his rope bed in the kitchen. One month later, Rachel Redfield was read out of meeting “for marriage by a priest.”
    Betsy and I each took one of the new bedrooms above the parlor, using the new stairs to come and go. The old cabin, with its uneven floors and curved stairway was left to the men, Nathaniel and Jesse each with a loft room and Papa in the kitchen. Except for cooking and eating, we women spent much of our time in the new part.
    As the summer waned, Jesse seemed restless. He didn’t sit still for long. Sometimes he slept in the barn or went off alone without so much as a by-your-leave. I suspected he was moving fugitives again, but I kept my peace and Jesse his. Then, one day, he brought in wood and carpenter’s tools from the barn.
    ”I’m going to fix up the little loft room,” he announced. He fitted the space under the eaves on both sides with low walls and doors for storage, ending up with a small but airy rectangular room, reaching to the roofline, with a little window on each side of the chimney. He whitewashed the walls, and I found him a braided oval rug for the floor. He bought a bedstead, table and rocking chair at a sale.
    It was a cheerful room, but I was puzzled by this domestic turn in a man who cared little for comforts and not at all for beauty. Maybe he was planning to marry after all. Maybe his dreams of going west had died.
    Jesse’s intentions in partitioning off his room would make sense to me in mid-September when he stumbled home just before dawn one morning after a three day absence, fevered and wild-eyed. Awakened by his arrival, I took a lantern to meet him in the dooryard.
    “Jesse! Where have you been?” I held the light aloft and looked into his pale, flushed face. “What’s wrong with you?”
    “Don’t ask,” he replied flatly. “Help me to bed. I’m sick.”
    Leaning heavily on me, he climbed the stairs to the loft, his breath hot on my neck.
    “Nathaniel!” he said hoarsely, standing over our sleeping brother.
    Nate stirred in his sleep, turned over and slowly woke to the lantern light casting huge shadows on the wall. “Huh? What’s goin’ on?” He squinted.
    “There’s a delivery in the wagon outside. Take care of it and the horses,” Jesse whispered, his eyes dazed.
    Nathaniel rose immediately, pulled on his trousers and boots, and descended sleepily into the kitchen. I heard the door close as I helped Jesse to the bed. He fell heavily, his breathing raspy. I pulled off his clothes, perspiring from the effort even though the room was cold.
    “Don’t cover me,” Jesse protested. “I’m burning up.”
    As I hurried downstairs to brew a tea for his fever, I was met in the kitchen by Papa and Nathaniel.
    “Ann,” said Amos. “Thee must help. There is another sick.”
    I looked from Papa to Nate, then out the window to the barn. No further explanation was needed. I knew.

Chapter 4
     

1854 – Fall
     
    J esse’s fever raged for days. He wavered in and out of consciousness while I worried over him, tried to make him comfortable, tried to figure out what ailed him. Out in the barn, the black man lay just as ill. Tending them both was a huge task, but it was clear that no one else should be exposed, both for the risk of disease and the risk of discovery. The sole responsibility fell to me, and my experience with illness was limited. The Redfields were a healthy lot, isolation doing its part to protect us from most things that went around.
    For more reasons than one, I felt it best for Betsy to go stay with Mary for a while, so Amos hitched up the team that first morning