Free In the Face of Danger by Joan Lowery Nixon Page B

invitation.
    “I—I’m sure that Emma would—” Ben blundered on, but Mrs. Haskill interrupted him. Trembling, she rose to her feet.
    “No, thank you,” she said. “I wish to become acquainted with my new home as soon as possible.”
    “But we—” Mr. Haskill began.
    Ignoring her husband, Mrs. Haskill glanced around the room and sighed. “Living in this primitive fashion is going to be quite a change for me.”
    Emma’s eyes narrowed with concern as she asked Mr. Haskill, “Farley, have you told Ada anything about your home?”
    Mr. Haskill looked uncomfortable. “I—I’ve never had the words to describe things easily,” he stammered. “Anyhow, I figured there’d be things she’d want to do to fix it up her own way.” He threw a panic-stricken glance at Ben. “I gave it a good cleaning afore I left. Did it look all right to you?”
    “It looked fine,” Ben said. “I told Emma I couldn’t get over how well you’d cleaned it.”
    Mr. Haskill let out a long sigh of relief. Ben glanced from Emma to Mrs. Haskill, and Megan could see that he was confused by the tension in the air.
    “Emma,” he said, “we can fix up a basket of things for Ada to take to her new home. Put in a loaf or two of the bread you baked this morning, and some of your plum jam.”
    Without a word Emma walked to the kitchen table,opened the nearby cupboard, and began to put things into a woven reed basket.
    “Ada, you’ll love Emma’s wild plum jam,” Ben continued. “I’m sure she’ll teach you to make your own, come summer when the fruit is ripe.”
    The pups began to yip and whine, and Mrs. Haskill glanced toward their box, wrinkling her nose in distaste. She turned to Ben, and her voice was cold. “I know how to make jam, thank you. I am well versed in all the disciplines needed to operate a household.”
    Ben rubbed his chin before he answered, and Megan could see that he was sizing up Mrs. Haskill. But he said amiably, “Neighbors are a real necessity out here where families are spaced so far apart. We’re glad to welcome you to the territory, and if you need or want for anything, we’re here to help you out. Farley’s always been a good neighbor to us, and we’re mighty thankful to have him nearby.”
    Mr. Haskill clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder, mumbling his own thanks, but Mrs. Haskill gave an imperious nod. She gracefully put on her coat, looked around the room for a mirror, and finding none, impatiently pinned on her elegant hat. “As soon as I’ve unpacked my china, Mr. Haskill and I will invite you to dine,” she said.
    Ben blinked with surprise. Emma strode to where Mrs. Haskill was standing and shoved a napkin-covered basket at her. Mrs. Haskill had no choice but to grab the handle before the basket fell on her toes.
    “Thank you,” Mrs. Haskill said formally.
    “You’re welcome.” Emma’s words were equally cool.
    Ben and Mr. Haskill left to hitch the horses, and Mrs. Haskill followed. Emma hesitated, obviously torn between following the basic rules of courtesy and giving in to her feelings. Firmly she shut the door and wrapped her arms around Megan.
    “It’s the Irish in you that makes you so special and wonderful,” she murmured against Megan’s hair. “Pay no attention to what that dreadful woman said!”
    Megan hugged her back, having trouble getting her arms about Emma’s waist, which seemed to be growing thicker each day. “I’ve heard things like that before,” Megan reassured her. “There were some in New York City who had no use for the Irish or for that matter anyone different from themselves. Ma told us to feel sorry for them because they were not only ignorant but wanted to stay that way.”
    Emma smiled. “A good description of Ada Haskill.”
    “I don’t like her,” Megan said.
    “Neither do I. But then who would?” Emma filled the kettle from the jar that held fresh water brought from the well that morning and hung it on one of the arms at the side of the