riding trail meandered in a rough westerly direction, but all around the woods stood thick, gigantic chestnuts, sycamores and oaks, and here and there stands of dark pines. The air hummed with insects, and from the surrounding undergrowth came the chirping and rustling of birds. Alex smiled at the bright orange of the orioles, darting from one shrub to the other.
“Here.” Fiona pointed at where a new trail cut into the woods. “This must be it.”
They walked Indian file down the narrow trail that opened up into a small clearing.
“Hello?” Alex called. “Hello?” she repeated taking a further step towards the log cabin. How had they managed to build something that permanent in such a short time? The door swung open and a young woman stepped outside, smiling at her visitors.
“Good day,” she said in accented English. “Welcome to Forest Spring.”
“Forest Spring?” Alex looked about. “Is there a spring somewhere close?”
The young woman tilted her head in the direction of a mossy hollow in the ground.
“There,” she said. “I’m Kristin,” she added, curtseying.
“Alex Graham. I’m your closest neighbour, and these are my three youngest children, Daniel, Ruth and Sarah. And this is Fiona.”
From behind their mother, three white blond heads appeared, all of them with pale blue eyes; three boys, the youngest still in smocks, holding on to his mother’s apron.
“Per, Erik and Johan,” Kristin introduced, nudging her boys forward.
“Swedish names!” Alex said.
Kristin regarded her with some caution. “ Ja . We come from New Sweden.” In a matter of minutes, she explained how her parents had immigrated in the early 1640s, homesteading high up on the Delaware River in the recently established county of Upland. “Sweden lost the colony in 1655, and in 1664 the English came.” Kristin blushed prettily. “And my husband, Henry Walton.”
“Why did you decide to move here?” Alex smiled at the youngest of Kristin’s boys.
Kristin looked away. “It was for the best.”
From the half-built stables came Henry Walton, a narrow-shouldered man with hair as fair as that of his sons, and once again Alex wondered how he’d managed to get something as solid as the cabin into place in less than four months.
The answer appeared from behind the privy, adjusting his breeches. Fiona inhaled, her mouth falling open. Alex swallowed back on a gasp. This had to be Kristin’s brother, sharing with her rye-coloured hair, blue eyes and lightly freckled skin. Not only was he big, he was possibly the most beautiful man Alex had ever seen, and to her embarrassment her eyes glued themselves to him as he came towards them. He surveyed them with a blank face, and looked questioningly at his sister.
“This is Lars.” Kristin placed a light hand on the man beside her. She said something in what Alex supposed was antiquated Swedish, making Lars turn all of his six feet and four of gorgeous manhood towards them. Fiona moaned, and Alex could but agree with the sentiment; the broad chest, the slim hips, the long, long legs...mouth-watering, all of him. Except for his eyes: flat and indifferent, they showed no animation when he nodded in her direction.
“Lars,” Alex said, receiving a weak smile in return. The large man’s gaze was riveted on Fiona, who gawked at him, her hands clasped tight. From the corner of her eye, Alex saw Kristin and Henry share a look, a swift locking together of eyes that was quickly smoothed over into a smile.
*
“It was sort of amusing,” Alex said to Matthew later that evening, walking hand in hand with him down to the river. “She’s comfortable in the woods, and so is that strange brother of hers, but poor Henry looks totally out of place.”
“Aye, he’s dependent on his wife and yon giant of a brother-in-law.”
“I wonder why they left New Sweden. It seems sort of desperate to start all over again.”
“Mayhap there wasn’t enough land.”
Alex raised
“Here.” Fiona pointed at where a new trail cut into the woods. “This must be it.”
They walked Indian file down the narrow trail that opened up into a small clearing.
“Hello?” Alex called. “Hello?” she repeated taking a further step towards the log cabin. How had they managed to build something that permanent in such a short time? The door swung open and a young woman stepped outside, smiling at her visitors.
“Good day,” she said in accented English. “Welcome to Forest Spring.”
“Forest Spring?” Alex looked about. “Is there a spring somewhere close?”
The young woman tilted her head in the direction of a mossy hollow in the ground.
“There,” she said. “I’m Kristin,” she added, curtseying.
“Alex Graham. I’m your closest neighbour, and these are my three youngest children, Daniel, Ruth and Sarah. And this is Fiona.”
From behind their mother, three white blond heads appeared, all of them with pale blue eyes; three boys, the youngest still in smocks, holding on to his mother’s apron.
“Per, Erik and Johan,” Kristin introduced, nudging her boys forward.
“Swedish names!” Alex said.
Kristin regarded her with some caution. “ Ja . We come from New Sweden.” In a matter of minutes, she explained how her parents had immigrated in the early 1640s, homesteading high up on the Delaware River in the recently established county of Upland. “Sweden lost the colony in 1655, and in 1664 the English came.” Kristin blushed prettily. “And my husband, Henry Walton.”
“Why did you decide to move here?” Alex smiled at the youngest of Kristin’s boys.
Kristin looked away. “It was for the best.”
From the half-built stables came Henry Walton, a narrow-shouldered man with hair as fair as that of his sons, and once again Alex wondered how he’d managed to get something as solid as the cabin into place in less than four months.
The answer appeared from behind the privy, adjusting his breeches. Fiona inhaled, her mouth falling open. Alex swallowed back on a gasp. This had to be Kristin’s brother, sharing with her rye-coloured hair, blue eyes and lightly freckled skin. Not only was he big, he was possibly the most beautiful man Alex had ever seen, and to her embarrassment her eyes glued themselves to him as he came towards them. He surveyed them with a blank face, and looked questioningly at his sister.
“This is Lars.” Kristin placed a light hand on the man beside her. She said something in what Alex supposed was antiquated Swedish, making Lars turn all of his six feet and four of gorgeous manhood towards them. Fiona moaned, and Alex could but agree with the sentiment; the broad chest, the slim hips, the long, long legs...mouth-watering, all of him. Except for his eyes: flat and indifferent, they showed no animation when he nodded in her direction.
“Lars,” Alex said, receiving a weak smile in return. The large man’s gaze was riveted on Fiona, who gawked at him, her hands clasped tight. From the corner of her eye, Alex saw Kristin and Henry share a look, a swift locking together of eyes that was quickly smoothed over into a smile.
*
“It was sort of amusing,” Alex said to Matthew later that evening, walking hand in hand with him down to the river. “She’s comfortable in the woods, and so is that strange brother of hers, but poor Henry looks totally out of place.”
“Aye, he’s dependent on his wife and yon giant of a brother-in-law.”
“I wonder why they left New Sweden. It seems sort of desperate to start all over again.”
“Mayhap there wasn’t enough land.”
Alex raised
Similar Books
