Page 19 of The Frozen River

“Did Moses not say anything when he came to get Cyrus?”

“No. Why?”

“Then I suppose he had words with you about Hannah?”

Ephraim laughs. “No. He’s working up to it, though. It withers a lad, finding the courage for that conversation. But he’ll get there. Stayed and talked for a bit, though. And made sure to catch a glimpse of her before driving off.”

I think about the body of Joshua Burgess and the assistance that Moses rendered this morning. “And did he mention nothing else while he was here?”

He grins. “Only that you would have news for me when you returned. But when I pressed him, he insisted that you would want to give me the details yourself. So I can only conclude one thing.”

“Which is?”

“You have done something to earn that boy’s loyalty.”

“I’ve done something?”

“Charmed him in some way, I suspect. You tend to do that.”

“I do no such thing! Most people dislike me, as a matter of fact.”

“They respect you. Perhaps occasionally fear you. It’s not the same thing.”

“And miles away from charm.”

“I find you charming.”

“You are biased.” I laugh and am grateful for the lightness it brings to my chest. Good humor stretches out from the corners of Ephraim’s eyes in the form of crow’s feet, and I realize he has lightened my mood on purpose. I must have come into the mill with a storm cloud hanging above my head. “And Moses wants to court Hannah,” I add.

“That’s hardly news.”

“Well, he now sees me as the door he must go through.”

“And here I thought I had the honor?”

I snort. “It seems that the young Pollard and I have bonded.”

“Over what?”

“A body.”

Outside, the squawking grows louder in the falcon mews, accompanied by the heavy beat of large wings.

“Percy is hungry,” I say, looking to the far wall and the door that leads beyond.

“You can’t change subjects like that, love. I did hear mention of a body.”

“Well, your bird is loud and distracting. Feed him. Then I’ll tell you.”

Ephraim grins, then strides across the floor to where a large bucket sits beside the woodstove. He plucks out a wriggling blueback trout with his bare hand and opens the door that accesses the mews. Percy hops across the floor and plucks the thing right out of Ephraim’s fingers. He’s a handsome bird, with pointed wings and a long tail. His feathers are a blue gray above and a speckled brown beneath. Percy puffs his white breast and turns his head so that the black mustache-like markings on his face are visible. He always looks French to me. And pompous.

Task accomplished, Ephraim shuts the door, turns to me again, and crosses his arms over his chest, waiting.

I try to ignore the sound of ripping flesh coming from the mews. Where to start? And how to explain everything? I take a deep breath and let my shoulders settle. Stretch my neck side to side, then begin the best way I know how.

“You know that while I was with Betsy Clark, Jonathan’s raft got trapped in the ice at Bumberhook Point, and that Sam Dawin fell through while they were trying to get to shore?”

He nods. “I helped Jonathan get him into the girls’ bed.”