Page 68 of The Frozen River

He flips his hands up as though asking, What?

“How long have you been in love with her?”

Cyrus clenches his jaw. Shudders. Then he grabs the note, wads it in his fist, and walks to the great, crackling hearth. He throws his missive into the flames and leaves Pollard’s without another glance in my direction.

I blow out a long breath between pursed lips. “That long, I suppose.”

The air outside the tavern is clear, but the breeze coming off the river is cold enough to burn. I untie Brutus from the hitching post and lead him the short distance to where Sterling drinks from a trough. The ice has been broken, but sharp little chunks float on the surface.

“You’ll freeze your lips off,” I tell the horse, scratching his great barrel chest beneath the leather saddle strap.

“It’s a wonder he doesn’t bite you.” Ephraim lays a calming hand on my shoulder, knowing I will jump at his voice.

“How do you do that?” In all the years we have been married, I have yet to hear the man sneak up behind me.

He shrugs, taking Brutus’s reins from my hands and inspecting the saddle and harness as though they’re in danger of immediate failure. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust my ability with a horse, but rather he isn’t willing to let me on one unless he’s judged it fit to ride—certainly not one as willful as Brutus.

“You’re late. You said you’d be an hour. It’s been two.”

“I picked up three more lumber orders at the fort. Then I had a bit of a chat with James Wall.”

I lift an eyebrow.

“Did you know he’s building a distillery?”

“I’d heard.”

“He’s leased a stretch of land along Farwell Brook. It’s not big enough to use for mill trading. But it’s cold and spring fed and just right if you’re the kind of man intent on making whiskey. He pays the lease with what he earns from us.”

“Us?”

“What Jonathan and Cyrus and I pay him to help us get the boards downriver.”

“Ah. That explains a lot.”

It’s Ephraim’s turn to give me the questioning glance.

“They never made their last delivery, did they? Got stuck in the river instead. And James had nothing with which to pay when the note came due.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Ephraim says, then studies my face. “He was only ten dollars short. But that’s because North required payment in full. For the entire loan.”

“What’s James going to do about it?”

“I offered to cover the difference. Part of me feels responsible. But he refused. Says he won’t go into debt again. He plans on selling his horse to pay the note.”

“The Pacer?”

“Aye. Says he can cover what he owes North, then buy a nag to replace it.”

I’ve never understood James’s obsession with that particular breed, but I’m sad to think of him losing the horse. And all because he went to the wrong man for a loan.

“Anyway,” Ephraim shrugs. “That’s what took me so long.”

“Well, you missed something interesting as a result.”

“And what would that be?”

I pull the coin purse out of my pocket and hand it to him.