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see you. You must join us for dinner. Afterwards we'll let her paw through your merchandise."
    Meadow followed the men into the kitchen where a plump woman labored at a huge stone hearth that dominated one whole wall. She stirred the contents of a black cauldron suspended over the fire by a heavy iron crane. Above, a massive beam supported the low ceiling, intersected at intervals by smooth, age-blackened joists.
    " Salizar !" the woman exclaimed. She wiped her hands on her apron and gave him a brief hug. "How good to see you again!"
    This sent him into another round of energetic bowing. He looked like a chicken pecking a handful of corn. Meadow had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing aloud.
    "And who is this?" Patience asked, turning to Meadow.
    Meadow fought down her humor. "My name is Wynn, ma'am."
    " 'Tis good to have you." She surprised Meadow with a warm hug. " Salizar is getting much too old to be gallivanting about the countryside alone."
    The men passed into the sitting room, already deep in conversation. Meadow stood awkwardly in a corner of the kitchen, watching the woman prepare the meal. "Can I help?"
    Patience smiled kindly. "Thank you, Wynn. I would appreciate a full wood box. And the water bucket is nearly empty. The pump is right behind the house."
    Meadow grabbed the wooden bucket. Filling it presented no problems, but chopping wood was a new task. Though her muscles had hardened, the ax outside the door felt heavy and unfamiliar. After a several awkward swings, she succeeded only in creating a few splinters.
    She leaned on the ax, sighing hopelessly. Then she spotted the pile of split wood stacked neatly beside the house. She rolled her eyes and grabbed an armload, realizing the job had probably taken John only a few minutes.
    By the time she finished her chores, the family was preparing to eat. She took her place beside Salizar on the long wooden bench, crossed herself, and bowed her head with the others.
    "Heavenly Father," John prayed, "We thank thee for thy blessing and these friends who grace our table. Grant them safety in these uncertain times."
    Meadow sneaked a peak at the man as he prayed. His head was bowed, and curly, black locks fell over his forehead. Thick hands rested together on the plank table.
    "Bless our fellowship tonight, and guide these colonies down your path. We thank thee for this bounty placed before us by loving hands. May it strengthen our feeble bodies. In thy Son's precious name we ask, amen."
    Meadow was touched by the simple prayer and the reverent way John spoke the words. He reminded her greatly of Father Holden, but she had little time to reflect on this as the plates of food were passed.
    The meal tasted delicious. Thick stew swam with chunks of beef and preserved garden vegetables, all complimented with doughy slabs of Yorkshire pudding. In addition, she most certainly smelled blueberry cobbler held somewhere in reserve.
    The children ate in silence, but John turned to Salizar with a question. "What news of the coast have you heard in your travels?"
    "Very little, I fear. I know the situation in Boston grows more desperate, but the British regulars monitor who is allowed in or out. News and supplies must be smuggled through on peril of one's life."
    "Since the Tea Party, the British have tightened control," John agreed.
    "A foolish plan, the Tea Party," Salizar remarked sourly. "What did it accomplish besides destroying good tea and drawing the ire of the authorities? Think of the profits lost."
    "British profits," John countered. "But it was not about tea or money. It drew attention to the fact that the British are interfering in our system of government. They tax us to pay for their blood feud with France, they disallow settlers west of the mountains, and they impose restrictions on us without letting us send representatives to join their law-making."
    "You got your tea tax revoked," Salizar grinned.
    "Only to be replaced by a slew of other laws. King George could