Chapter 2

A few blocks away from where Matthew and Amanda were enjoying their first morning together as husband and wife, Bobby Clayton was sitting down to breakfast with Daniel and Dotty West, his new foster grandparents. As usual, he was talking a mile a minute, while still managing to consume astounding amounts of food.

"Capn' Daniel, are we going to start our lessons today or wait 'til after me and th' Major and Miss Manda get back from visitin' th' Major's fambly – fam-i-ly- in Illinoise?"

"Illinois, Bobby – the 'S' on the end is silent," Dotty corrected.

"Oh. Why?"

"It's a French word, and in French, an 'S' on the end of a word is silent," she explained.

"Oh. Why is it a French word?"

"Because many years ago, when that part of the America was first being explored, the people that explored it were French-speaking, so there are a number of French names out there," Daniel explained.

"French people explored America?"

"Yes, and so did Spanish people, so in some parts of the country, you have Spanish names for towns, cities, rivers, and so on. There are a lot of Indian names, too, because of all the Indian tribes that have lived here."

"But where we live, it was English people that explored it, right? So the names are English names."

"That's right. We come from New England, and there are cities in New England named for cities in England, like Boston, Portsmouth, Stowe, and others."

"Cap'n Daniel, I sure do have a lot to learn about America, don't I?"

"Yes, but you're making a good start, Bobby. You can learn a lot just from seeing things and listening to people, so I think we'll wait until after you get back from Illinois to start your formal lessons."

"All right. Oh, look, Miss Dotty! It's starting to snow! Can I go out and play in the snow?"

"May I, and yes, you may, but put on your new coat and hat and your gloves. You don't want to catch cold right before you leave for Illinois."

"No, ma'am. Ummm – what was it I'm s'posed to say to leave the table? I know! Please, may I be excused?"

"Very good, and yes, you may."

"Thank you."

He was back down the stairs and out the door within five minutes; Daniel looked at his wife and said, "My dear, life will never be boring with that young man in the house."

"No, Daniel, and for all his rough edges, he's a good lad."

"Oh, very good; he only needed a bit of polishing, no more. He's like a sponge, absorbing knowledge as fast as he can take in. I think he'll go far, given the proper training and guidance."

"I agree."

Bobby had fun running up and down the street, trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue, secure in the knowledge that when he got cold, he could go inside to a warm house, hot food, and a warm bed, none of which he could have been assured even a month earlier. "You sure did land on your feet, Bobby, an' that's no error!" he told himself happily.

A large wagon pulled by two huge dray horses turned the corner and came up the street before coming to a halt outside the house just across the street. Bobby didn't know it, of course, but it was the same house where the gunman Daniel Macklin had hired to shoot and kill Matthew had hidden in the darkness, waiting for a chance to take a shot at his target. The driver jumped down from the open wagon seat and tied the horses before turning to help a woman in a black gown and bonnet and a heavy woolen cloak down from the seat. At the same time, a boy about Bobby's age jumped down from the seat and ran toward the door, which he quickly unlocked.

"Capital! A new neighbor, and just my age!" Bobby thought. He was across the street even before the lady had a chance to go up the steps and into the house.

"Hello, ma'am. My name is Robert Clayton, and I live across the street. Is this going to be your house now?"

"Why, yes, Robert, it is. I'm Mrs. Louisa Stetson, and I'm very glad to meet you. Fred! Come and meet our neighbor, Robert."

"Hello," Fred said. "How old are you? I'm twelve."

"I'm ten, or maybe eleven. I don't rightly know, on account of my ma and pa are dead, and I was living on the streets until Miss Amanda said I could come and live at her house. That's it, over there."

"Amanda Bishop?" Mrs. Stetson asked.

"Yes'm, well, she was Bishop, but she got married yestiddy to th' major, so now she's Mrs. Davis."

"Amanda is married?"

"Yes'm. You know her?"

"Oh, yes, we're good friends. You see, our husbands – well, her first husband, Mr. Bishop, and my husband, Major Stetson, were classmates at West Point."

"My Papa was killed at Antietam," Fred said.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Does Miss Amanda know?" Bobby asked.

"Oh, yes, she sent me the loveliest letter of condolence."

"What does 'condolence' mean?"

"It means she wrote to say how sad she was that Major Stetson was killed."

"Antietam was bad. Miss Amanda and me, we went down to Aquia Creek to help with the wounded from Fredericksburg, and everybody there said it was bad, like Antietam."

"Yes."

"Lady, are we going to unload this stuff or stand here jawing?" the driver asked impatiently.