A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(14)
“Then once you collect the sap, you boil it?” he asked after they’d resumed their journey through the woods toward the cabin.
“Ja, the boiling down takes much time and heat.” She slowed her pace to match his, her weary back appreciating the slow gait and break from the heavy weight.
His coat pulled taut against his shoulders, evidence of the strain of the load. But he didn’t complain. “How much syrup is left once the moisture is boiled away?”
“Very little.” But even a little was something to sell in town and money added to her crock. She hadn’t been able to recover what Hans had taken on the day she’d found him dead, but she kept holding on to the hope that if she continued saving, then one day she’d have enough to pay for an education for her children.
Of course, the amount in her crock was a pittance. The pennies couldn’t begin to compare to what she still needed to pay off the farm loan. Even so, she was determined to stow away a little here and there whenever she could.
But that was her secret, and one she would never share with her new husband.
When they reached the clearing and came within sight of the one-story log cabin, the barn beyond it, and the cleared land, she took a deep breath of the brisk spring air. The deep snows had begun to melt, leaving behind splotches of crusty gray snow across the barren listlessness of the land. The vibrant green of the wilderness was still weeks away from making an appearance. Until then, they lived in a colorless world—not the best time of year to make a good impression on a newcomer.
She peeked sideways at Carl. What did he think of his new home? Was he disappointed?
But he was sloshing the colorless liquid within the bucket, seemingly unconcerned about the farm that spread out before him. He stuck his finger into the sap, lifted it to his tongue, and tasted it. “Off the top of my head I’d venture to say the sap is made of iron and sodium . . . maybe potassium?”
His words were as foreign to her as English.
“I wonder if there might be a way to shorten the evaporation process,” he continued, “and reduce the amount of time the sugaring process takes.”
She glanced at the sap, having no idea what he was talking about.
“I’m guessing the boiling point needs to reach at least one hundred degrees Celsius? Perhaps several degrees more than that?” He stared straight ahead, but he was obviously not seeing anything but numbers and calculations.
For a long moment she didn’t know what to say to him, how to answer without looking like the poor uneducated peasant girl that she was. Ja, Vater had allowed her to attend the free public school in Detroit during the time they’d lived there. But that hadn’t been long enough to learn to read and write well. And she’d certainly never heard anything about evaporation and boiling points.
At the tiny yelps coming from the front of the cabin, Gretchen gasped and wiggled her hand free of Annalisa’s grasp. “Mama, Snowdrop needs me.”
A furry bundle strained and jumped against the dirty rope that bound him to a stake in the ground near the cabin, wagging his tail and prancing at the sight of them.
Gretchen started to run, cutting across the vegetable garden that would soon need planting. Her legs could hardly keep up with her body, and her clunky boots threatened to trip her.
Annalisa followed her daughter, not sure who was more anxious for the reunion—the new puppy or Gretchen. And when the little girl dropped to her knees in front of the slobbering, quivering mass of black fur and wrapped her arms around him, Annalisa smiled—a real smile, one that came from all of the motherly love stored deep in her heart.
Frau Pastor had brought them the puppy earlier in the week. Annalisa had been hesitant to take another mouth to feed. They were already thin and hungry from winter, and their provisions were long gone. She was having a difficult time finding enough food for the two of them, and she didn’t need to worry about a growing puppy too.
But Herr Pastor and his wife had insisted she keep it, telling her the puppy would soon grow into a helpful watchdog, one that would keep her safe. As a woman alone, and with dangerous men like Ward to deal with, she could use all the help she could get.
“Mama, can we untie Snowdrop?” The dog’s tongue lapped at Gretchen’s nose. She giggled, and the sweet sound danced in the air, filling the moment with something infinitely precious, a memory that would stay imprinted in Annalisa’s mind forever.
The thump of the bucket against the muddy ground next to her sent the smile scurrying back into hiding. Gretchen’s smile faded too.
Carl cracked his knuckles and stretched his arms. Then he examined Gretchen and the muddy paw smears that now covered her skirt and coat.
Annalisa stiffened and braced herself for the rebuke he was sure to give, not only about Gretchen’s carelessness with the mud but also the fact that animals were not meant to be coddled. Everyone knew that farm animals were not pets. They were there for one reason and one reason alone—much like a farmer’s wife—to do the work necessary for survival.
He crouched next to Gretchen and scratched the top of the puppy’s head. “She’s named Snowdrop?”
Gretchen nodded.
He cocked an eyebrow at Annalisa.
“He is only a puppy.” She wanted to defend Gretchen’s affection of the tiny beast. What harm would come from letting her daughter enjoy the dog? Couldn’t Carl see how much fondness she already had for the creature? He wouldn’t deny her that, would he?