Chapter 8

By chance or good luck, they found John and Emma’s home. Faced with the prospect of freezing, Rebecca put aside the dislike she held for her uncle, and Emma Collins gave the women a warm place to spend the night. John did not greet them, nor did they see him during the visit.

In the morning, to Rebecca’s delight, he was up and gone before she and Mary rose. Emma fed them a hearty breakfast and asked their plans.

“I desire a certain house in town,” Mary said. She described the small place with the separate room in front. “Why was it built that way?”

“I know not the purpose,” Emma said. “It has been empty since finished. The family who built it sold and moved farther to the north before ever moving in.”

“It is for sale?” Mary asked.

“It belongs to Harold Avery,” Emma said. “He is a good man and husband. Should he not wish to sell, I am sure he would permit you to stay there during this harsh winter.”

“I think he will sell.”

“Such confidence,” Emma said. “Remember, you are but a woman alone in this new town.”

“I am a woman who brings much with her,” Mary said.

Emma studied her for a moment and nodded.

“I believe you do. What of you, Rebecca?”

“A place will reveal itself. I wish it near town but not in the village.”

“There are few, and all are lived in.”

“One will come,” Rebecca answered.

“We must go.” Mary stood and motioned to Rebecca. “We will find Good Man Avery and learn of the house.”

Emma gave them directions to Harold Avery’s home and stood at the door as the two women left. It was a short but cold walk to Danielsford from the Collins farm. Though it wasn’t far, before they arrived at the Avery house, the cold chilled Mary and Rebecca to the bone.

Harold and Mercy Avery were among the first settlers in what would become Danielsford. The house was easy to find. With no mill nearby to cut lumber when they arrived, Harold built the home using logs. Mud from the still unnamed river chinked the spaces, giving the Avery’s the sturdiest, warmest, and most comfortable house in the new village.

When Mary and Rebecca arrived at the door shivering from the cold, Mercy ushered them inside.

“You would catch your death before this day is over,” Mercy said, showing them to a table.

She fixed something warm for them to eat and drink.

“Do not trouble yourself,” Mary said.

“Nonsense,” Mercy said. “What brings you to Danielsford?”

“A new start, in a new town,” Rebecca said.

Mercy had been studying Mary. She smiled and nodded.

“I knew your mother. She helped me when I birthed my children.”

“She helped many,” Mary said. “I hope to do the same here.”

“Do you have a place?” Harold asked.

“No, but you have one of interest.” Mary mentioned the empty home.

Harold laughed. “I will open it and get a fire going. You are welcome to stay there. A house should have someone living in it.”

“I am more interested in purchase,” Mary said. “It should be ideal for what I have in mind.”

Harold shook his head. “I have no plans to sell. Only a month ago did it come into our possession. We have not further discussed what to do with it.”

“The house would do well as a shop, which is what I see it being,” Mary said. “We will accept your Christian offer to stay there. Perhaps you will consider selling it later?”

Harold hesitated for a moment. “I would need 20 pounds.”

“It is worth it to me. Again, I desire to own it.”

Harold glanced at Mercy. She nodded, and they made the deal. Mary gave him the money. It left her with almost nothing.

“Good,” Mercy said, “One less thing to trouble us. I was about to insist that Harold sell. When your bones no longer suffer chill, we will go prepare it for you.”

“It is most kind,” Rebecca said. “I thought my feet had turned to blocks of ice.”

“Yes, this winter is harsh,” Mercy said. “You, too, are familiar.”

“John and Emma Collins are my aunt and uncle,” Rebecca said.

Mercy nodded. “Rebecca Collins. You do not use your late husband’s name.”

“I do and I don’t,” Rebecca said. “The marriage was but a short time before he passed, and most know me better by my birth name.”

The explanation seemed to satisfy the woman. “When you are ready, we will go and see the house.”

Mary walked through the small building, checking every detail. The room in front was perfect, though she thought it odd not to have a doorway leading to the back living quarters. It was ideal for the shop she had in mind.

Downstairs, the house had a kitchen with a large, walk-in fireplace, and a living room. Upstairs were two more rooms both furnished as bedrooms and each with its own fireplace. She fell in love with it the moment she stepped inside, and knew she made a good choice.

“It is to my liking,” she said. “The right size for a woman alone, neither over large nor too small.”

“I hope you can abide a guest for a time,” Rebecca said.

“We will be as sisters,” Mary said. She turned to Harold and Mercy. “Thank you. You are most generous, and I will be in your debt.”

Mercy smiled. “You have done us a favor by taking it off our hands. As my Good Husband mentioned, a house is happier when lived in.”

“This will be a most happy home. I will care for it.”

“I know you will,” Harold said. He eyed the fireplace and added another log from the small pile near the hearth. “It will take some time to warm the room. We will cut several cords of wood, that you will have enough to take you through the rest of the winter.”

“Thank you, again,” Mary replied.

“While the house warms,” Mercy said, “let us collect your bags and bring them here. In back, there is a well. The water is good.”

With the fire burning high, they left to collect their baggage. On the way, Mary told Mercy what she planned. As with Rebecca, Mercy was concerned, and warned Mary.

“I should be cautious,” she said. “Already they have hanged women, one in Boston and in other parts for doing less than what you speak of.”