Page 69 of The Frozen River

“What’s this?”

“My fee for delivering Sarah White. And the court fine. Eighteen shillings, paid in full. She brought it to me herself.”

“That must have taken her—”

“Months. It isn’t fair, Ephraim. There has to be a better way.”

“And?”

“And what?”

He laughs. “I know you well enough to know when there’s an and.”

Ephraim sets a hand on either side of my waist and helps me into the saddle. Then he swings a leg over Sterling’s back and settles into his own. We turn for home just as the sky begins to darken.

“I do have an idea,” I say, trying to sort out my thoughts so they’ll make sense. “Or two.”

“I’m listening.”

“Sarah can’t afford another turn before the court. It will be jail time if she has another child out of wedlock.”

“Are you saying she’s not going to change her ways?”

“I am saying that the father of her child gladly took advantage of her body but left town long before the results of his lust brought her before the court. There is no justice in that.”

“Sarah brought him to bed willingly enough. Or at least she’s never said different. She’s hardly innocent in the matter.”

“Innocent? No. But she also has no legal recourse. The man is gone, and she cannot collect maintenance for her child.”

“Her parents haven’t turned her out.”

“But they aren’t supporting her either. She needs a real way to make a living. Not odd jobs that pay a shilling here and there.”

“So what do you intend to do for her?”

“Exactly what you did for me.”

It takes him a moment to figure out what I mean. “You’ll teach her to read?”

“If she’s to have any real chance in this world, that’s where she has to start.”

After a quarter mile we turn aside from the wide Kennebec, where Mill Brook meets the river. Farther on, Water Street narrows and becomes little more than a glorified cattle trail that passes through Vassalboro and follows the Kennebec up its banks, eventually disappearing one hundred fifty miles north, as does the river itself, into its source, Moosehead Lake.

“And this second idea of yours?”

“If she can’t find a job, then perhaps I can help her find a husband.”

“I suppose you have a man in mind?”

“I do.”

“And you think it ought to be Jonathan?”

I open my mouth, stunned, ready to argue, but Ephraim mistakes my meaning and interrupts.

“I know it bothers you that he’s taken no interest in courtship.”

“He’s twenty-six. He ought to be courting someone.”