As Nathan tied the mule and started across the yard, he took a quick appraisal of the Johnson farm. The home was a spacious, two-story white frame building with well-kept yard. A large red barn stood behind it, surrounded with other outbuildings—forge, smokehouse, a vegetable cellar, carriage shed, and icehouse. A matched team of Belgian workhorses were in the corral along with a sleek-looking sorrel mare. The rail fences were neat and in excellent repair, and as he passed the barn’s open door, Nathan saw everything was in its place.
As he came around the barn, his opinion of Lydia’s uncle as a farmer climbed even higher. The rows of apple trees had been carefully pruned to keep them low enough so come fall the pickers would not need high ladders to harvest the crop. It was now well into April, and it had been an unseasonably warm spring. The buds were just opening, providing a veritable explosion of pink blossoms for as far as the eye could pierce into the orchard. The air was filled with a soft fragrance as well as with the pleasant hum of ten thousand bees moving from blossom to blossom, their legs and round bodies heavy with pollen.
He passed a cider press with its huge double wheels. Turned by horse or ox power, the wheels would crush the apples into pulp. The juice would be drained off for making apple cider and vinegar. The pulp, or pomace, as it was called, would be left out in the air for twelve hours, then pressed between layers of straw to form “apple cheese.” That was a favorite of the Steeds, including Nathan, and he realized perhaps some of the apple cheese they had bought in town during the winter had come from this very orchard.
He slowed his step to look more closely at the cider press. It was small but modern and well maintained. He nodded to himself. Someday he would have a farm like this. So many farmers, especially on the frontier, did all right. They survived, and not much more than that. But with effort and care one could do more than just raise crops and cattle. One could build something lasting, something which bore witness to the labor and love of the husbandman.
The clusters of blossoms were too thick to allow him to see more than a few yards beyond where he stood, so Nathan bent down now and then to try and see below the branches of the trees. Now he understood the aunt’s simple declaration about the trees being in blossom. That was explanation enough as to why a young woman might be found out here. The sun was dropping low in the sky now, and the air still. It was a moment of serenity and peace.
About twenty or thirty yards in, a flash of yellow a few rows over caught his eye. For a moment he saw her clearly, then she moved on behind another tree. He stopped for a moment, remembering how he had gaped at her like a kid in a candy shop that day outside the store when Joshua had introduced them for the first time. Even now he felt a quick rush of envy that Joshua should be courting this storekeeper’s daughter.
Suddenly he wanted to move up quietly, get another look at her before she saw him. Feeling a little foolish, he moved quietly through the thick green carpet of grass and weeds. As he closed in on her he stopped again. She was leaning against an apple tree, half-turned away from him. She had broken off a small branch from one of the trees and now had the blossoms pressed up to her face. He caught a soft sound and realized she was humming to herself.
Stepping back a little, not wanting to break the moment, he watched her closely, almost struck immobile with the beauty of her. Her face was in half profile, highlighting the fineness of her features—the high cheekbones, the firm chin, the softness of her lips. She had combed out her hair full, and it fell in a full cascade over her shoulders and partly down her back, the ebony glossiness contrasting sharply with the pale yellow of her dress.
Suddenly, with the grace of a forest fawn, she tossed the blossoms aside, pushed away from the tree and began to sing.
In London city where I once did dwell,
There was a fair maid dwellin’.
Made every youth cry, “Well-a-day.”
Her name was Barbara Allen.
Her body began to sway back and forth, barely moving but somehow, in that restraint, conveying the mournful sorrow of unrequited love and young womanhood denied.
‘Twas in the merry month of May
The green buds were a swellin’.
She threw one hand out, taking in the richness of the spring’s bounty which surrounded her.
Sweet William on his deathbed lay,
For the sake of Barb’ra Allen.
Nathan felt a quick chill scurry up his back. It was a haunting melody brought to America generations earlier by English immigrants. Its sadness had always moved him, but now as her voice carried to him, clear and true as the soft chiming of a crystal bell, he found himself mesmerized.
Barbara Allen. As Lydia sang the verses, the story unfolded. Unmoved by William’s deathbed plea that only her kiss could save him, she tripped lightly down the stairs and out of the door. But when the death knell began to sound, the bells cried out in accusation, “Hard-hearted Barbara Allen.” Pierced with sorrow, the lass stopped the funeral bier and peered into the face of the dead man.
Lydia’s voice dropped in pitch, taking on a sudden huskiness, and the tempo slowed. The swaying stopped and she stood motionless, eyes closed, to finish the tale of Barbara Allen.
“Oh, Papa, Papa, go dig my grave,
And dig it deep and narrow.
Sweet Will has died of love for me,
I’ll die for him tomorrow.”
They buried him in the old churchyard;
They buried Miss Bar’bra beside him.
From his grave there grew a red red rose,
And from her grave a briar.
They grew to the top of the old church tow’r,
They could not grow no higher.
They hooked, they tied in a true love’s knot,
The rose around the briar.
Her voice died, the last notes seeming to hang forever in the still air. She did not stir, nor did Nathan. He felt a sudden stab of shame. He had intruded on her, without her permission or knowledge. And he knew she would be embarrassed to know he had done so. Ashamed, he began to back away. He would wait near the barn until she decided to come out of the orchard.
Perhaps his feet made a noise in the orchard grass, or maybe she caught his movement out of the corner of her eye. Whatever it was, she suddenly whirled. “Oh!” he heard her gasp. One hand flew to her mouth and she fell back a step.
Blushing furiously, Nathan stepped out into full view. “Miss Lydia?”
Her hand was still up and there was fright in her eyes.
He swept off his hat and rushed on. “I’m Nathan Steed, Joshua’s brother.”
Her hand came down slowly as recognition dawned. “Oh.”
“Your aunt said I could find you out here. I…” He stopped, unconsciously twisting the hat around and around in his hands. “I’m sorry for sneaking up on you. I was about to speak when you started to sing.”
Her cheeks colored and her eyes dropped.
“It was so lovely I couldn’t bear to stop you.”
She blushed even more deeply, but smiled quickly up at him. “Thank you.”
There was an awkward pause, then the smile broadened and she stuck out her hand. “Yes, Nathan, I remember you. Hello again.”
“Hello.” Nathan took her hand and quickly dropped it, startled a little by her openness. “I…I’m looking for Joshua…”
Seeming to sense his discomfort, and delighted by it, she stepped back, still appraising him with those wide brown eyes. He suddenly realized he was mangling his hat and forced his hands to stop. Then the smile faded and a shadow darkened her eyes. “Yes, Joshua told me what happened with your father. I’m sorry.”
Nathan’s mouth twisted in frustration. “He and Pa…well, they’re a lot alike.”
“Stubborn, you mean?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
She cocked her head to one side impishly, causing her hair to fall around her face. “I’ve noticed that about Joshua too.”
Nathan pulled his eyes away from her and looked down at his hands. The effect she was having on him was very dis-concerting, and he found himself wanting to stare at her. “Ma sent me with some bread and other things. She’s worried about him.”
Her head bobbed quickly up and down. “I told him he needed to go back home. Talk to your father.” She shook her head wearily. “He says he won’t go back.”
“I know. Do you know where I might find him? Is he staying in the village?”
Again there was a quick frown. “He’s staying with Will Murdock until he can find something in town.”
Nathan blew out air in a quick sound of discouragement. “That’s not going to help.”
“I know. I started to suggest that maybe Will Murdock was not the best company. He really snapped at me. Said who he picked as his friends was his affair and I was not to start acting like his pa.”
Nodding glumly, Nathan kicked at the grass with his foot, digesting what she had told him.
“You knew he got work down on the docks.”
Nathan’s head came up with a snap.
She nodded. “One of the warehouses. He told me he was going to help your family with the farming, but he’s got to make his own way first.”
Memories of the previous Sunday crossed Nathan’s mind. “Maybe it’s just as well.” He took a breath. “Do you know where the Murdocks live? I’d best try and find him.”
“They’re east of town, out on Geneva Road. But there’s no need to do that. Joshua said he would finish work at sundown, then come right out here.”
“Oh?”
She looked up at the sky. The sun was perhaps five or ten minutes from setting. “Why don’t you just wait. I’m sure he’s coming.”
“Well, if it wouldn’t be a bother.” He looked away quickly. “Once he comes, I won’t stay long.”
She laughed gently at his embarrassment. “It’s no bother. Come on, we’ll walk in the orchard.” She waved her hand at the trees. “Isn’t this wonderful?” She laughed again and started walking slowly away from him.
Nathan stood for a moment, marvelling at her. He wanted to make her laugh again. It was a sound of lilting joy, light as a breeze darting across a summer meadow. He jammed his hat on his head, poked at the back of his shirt to make sure it was in his pants, then fell into step beside her.
Joshua had come south out of Palmyra Village on the main road which ran on down to Canandaigua. As he approached the Johnson farm, he left the road and cut across a field of alfalfa toward the big red barn behind the house. Lydia had told him she would be in the orchard, and while he found her aunt much less intimidating than her mother, he still squirmed a little under her scrutiny. So he simply bypassed the house.
As Joshua came around the house and started past the barn, he suddenly stopped. A mule was tied at the hitching post on the south side of the house. To city folks, all mules may look alike, but there’s no farmer that doesn’t know his stock by sight. He changed direction and walked to the animal, feeling a sudden rush of anger. He looked in the saddlebags, saw his jacket and the flour sack filled with things. Lips tightening into a hard line, he walked around to the front door and knocked firmly.
After a moment, Lydia’s aunt came to the door. “Oh, hello, Joshua.”
“Hello, Mrs. Johnson.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Is my father here?”
She looked surprised. “Your father? Why, no.”
That took him aback a little. “But…our mule is tied up alongside the house.”
Understanding dawned. “Oh, of course. No, that’s your brother.”
“My brother?”
“Yes, Nathan. He came about half an hour ago, looking for you. Lydia must have told him you were coming this evening, and he decided to wait for you. They’re probably out in the orchard.”
He let out his breath, the relief coming in a sudden rush. “Thank you.”
As he came around the back of the barn, Joshua stopped. Lydia and Nathan were just emerging from the orchard, walking slowly. Nathan was saying something to her. Lydia’s head was down, concentrating, hands clasped together behind her. Suddenly she threw her head back and laughed. Nathan smiled as he watched her.
Joshua felt a stab of—what? Envy? Jealousy? He pushed it away, surprised at the gladness he felt too. He raised his hand and waved. “Ho, Nathan!”
They both looked startled, then Nathan grinned and waved. He strode quickly toward Joshua, hand outstretched. “Joshua.” They grasped hands, then suddenly Joshua swept his younger brother up in a bear hug.
“Ma sent you some bread and pickles,” Nathan said when they pulled back and faced each other. “Melissa found your jacket and some other things you left. They’re in the saddle-bags.”
“Great.” He turned to Lydia, who had been watching them with a smile. “Hello, Lydia.”
“Hello, Joshua. I was hoping you would come.”
He could see she meant it, and he felt a little bit ashamed for what he had felt a moment before. “I told you I would.”
“I know. That’s what I told Nathan.”
Turning back to his brother, Joshua sobered. “How is Ma?”
“Fine. She’s been worried about you.”
He looked away. “I know. I planned to come out and help with the work, but I found a job in town.”
Nathan nodded. “Lydia told me.”
“It pays thirty-five cents a day.”
Joshua noted the look in Lydia’s eyes and felt a pang of disappointment. It was the same look he had seen when he first told her of his new job. He had expected as much, but it still hurt a little. To the villagers of Palmyra, the Erie Canal was a great boon which had brought economic prosperity and considerable growth to the region. But the dock area was a source of discomfort and embarrassment to them as well. Just a block away from their well-manicured homes and businesses, the lusty and bawdy nature of Canal Street stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the village. It was a necessary evil, but it was to be carefully avoided and its principals viewed with faint distaste.