Free Beginning Again by Mary Beacock Fryer Page A

pioneer life, not just a taste. It would certainly give me something to talk about back home.”
    Now Papa said, “We must make arrangements for you to see our so-called estate, and I'd like to take Martha and the baby along. We need to decide who stays here to look after things, and who goes.
    â€œI guess I'll be staying,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed. With Cade and Sam already there, I was the logical one to be here, but I hated to miss watching Uncle's reaction to our land. Besides, Sam wouldn't be able to keep his promise to take Uncle hunting if he had to come home.
    Papa shook his head. “You need a change, too, Ned. Now that your foot is healed, I would like you to ride the mare out and tell Cade to float down to Buell's Bay in the bateau. I know he won't mind taking over here, caring for the animals and working in the shop and garden. Everyone else may come to our land. I want to show Mama the changes we've made since her first visit.”
    â€œI'd love that,” Mama agreed.
    â€œSo would I,” Elizabeth spoke up.
    â€œThe cabin won't hold half of us,” I observed. “But that won't matter at this time of year, unless it turns very rainy.”
    We began preparations for the short journey, organizing extra food, clothing and bedding. Before I was ready to set out with the mare and her colt, some well worn copies of the Montreal Gazette arrived. Our turn had come to read the only news that penetrated our wilderness world. As soon as Papa had time to sit down, he picked up the newspapers eagerly and began leafing through them.
    â€œMr. Buell was correct,” he said. “We're to have a new province, Upper Canada, with our own governor and a legislative assembly. High time, too.”
    â€œWill that mean an election, Papa?” I enquired. From what he had told me about elections, they were interesting.
    Mama, however, looked disapproving. “Politics! I've enjoyed not having all that quarrelling. You know how much I worried that you'd get hurt at those meetings.”
    â€œMartha,” Papa tried to sound soothing. “I never came home with more than a black eye when we lived on Long Island. In Schenectady I had to lie low for fear someone might discover I was a Loyalist. Here I'm a Loyalist among Loyalists, and can speak my mind again.”
    â€œI'm sure meetings here will be wild, with so many Connecticut Yankees about,” Mama said. “They're madder than Long Islanders when they talk politics.”
    â€œI think we should change the subject,” Uncle William said. “The more I ponder, the more confused I become over how one goes about building a timber raft. It seems such an enormous job of work.”
    â€œIt is,” Papa admitted. “Last season I served on a work crew in order to learn how to handle heavy logs safely.”
    At that a thought struck me. “If I take the mare, how will you move your supplies to Buell's Bay for the bateau ride?”
    â€œI know Dave Shipman will bring his horse to pull the cart,” Elizabeth said.
    That gave me food for thought as I set out the next day, a pair of bags containing supplies slung over the mare's rump behind me. I could not help feeling jealous. Elijah Coleman and Jesse Boyce were friends, but Elizabeth was my very best friend. In my dreams I still hoped we would live together when we were grown up. At nearly fourteen I disliked the thought that some day my sister might prefer to live with someone else.

Chapter 6
Apprentice Raftsmen
    A s I rode along the track that roughly followed the river I felt a new sense of freedom. The mist of dawn was lifting and the colt frisked about, I was happy alone after having been cooped up at Coleman's Corners for so long. The time was now early September 1791, and Papa had told me Cade and Sam had harvested most of the grain and vegetables they had planted in the spring. They had planted cuttings from the old apple trees, but some