The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals 2)

“Then I shall say it for certain.”

She laughed, and her breath made a cloud in the cold air as she yanked open a side door and motioned for me to go in first.

The space was large and tall with stalls for a cow, a pig, and several horses. Chickens lay on nests. A rooster eyed us suspiciously.

“That’s Doodle,” Josephine said. “He’s mean, so keep an eye out for him.”

She pointed to a hayloft. “I used to go up there to be by myself when I was younger. I love my brothers and sisters, but sometimes I needed a little peace and a place to read.”

“That sounds nice. I’d have liked a place like that at the orphanage.” I’d never had any time alone there. We’d slept in small beds all lined up in a row and ate all meals together. “The only place I could escape to was the pages of a book.”

We locked eyes for a split second.

“I understand perfectly.” She took two apples from a bucket near the door. “Would you like to feed one of the horses an apple?”

“Sure.” I’d have liked to say no. Horses scared me a little with their large teeth.

We walked over to the stalls. The horses both whinnied at the sight of Josephine. “These two girls are Lucy and Pearl. The

y’re a little older than the other two, so we use them for the small sleigh.” She pointed to the other pair. “These two are only three years old.” She held the apple up to one of the horses. “This one is Willie. And that’s Oz.”

I held out the apple in front of Oz. “Will he just take it?”

“Bring it closer.”

I did so and flinched as Oz sucked it from my hand.

“You haven’t been around horses much, have you?”

“No, not really,” I said.

“These two are gentle. They won’t hurt you.”

She took my hand and put it on Oz’s nose. “Stroke him with your thumb. He loves that.”

I would have preferred to stroke Josephine’s nose, but I did as she asked. Oz flicked his tail.

“He likes you,” Josephine said.

“How can you tell?”

“He’s smiling. See.” She pointed at his mouth, which looked exactly as it had when we first walked up to him.

“Did Walter really read you all parts of my letters?” Josephine asked.

“We loved the stories of your family’s antics. Everything is exactly how I pictured it from your descriptions.”

“Perhaps my family is more entertaining on paper than the real thing.”

“I found them entertaining just now.”

“Wait until you meet Cymbeline. Was it really my letters that made you want to come here?” Josephine asked.

“Yes. I wanted to get out of the city. As your father said—there are too many people. When I was so sick, I told myself if I survived, I’d come out here to see it all for myself.” And you. I kept that to myself.

“I hope you won’t find the town too quiet.” Josephine leaned against the stall.

“I don’t think I will,” I said. “I’ve a confession to make.”