Freda Pov
My chest went entirely tight, and a small, dull ache started in my throat, moving down behind my wool stays until I could barely draw the freezing air into my lungs. Beside me, Urdon did not lean back against the cedar post anymore, but his good left hand was squeezing the middle rail so hard that a fresh drop of red fluid ran out from under his thumbnail onto the dry gray wood.
"The three wagons are already at the crossroads post, Caleb." Silas did not look back at our porch steps, his grey horse turning its head to bite at a dead apple branch by the path.
"The pork and the lime flour will be inside the larder before the shadow hits the chimney rail," Caleb responded, his thick fingers unbuckling his wool gloves.
"The territory ledger remains under your name until the winter frost returns."
"The fence lines will be mended before the moon goes thin."
