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strength to spend me days outside.”
    â€œI see that,” Delight said. The smile he offered made her uncomfortable. A vision of the helpless, wounded soldier who relied on her assistance strolled through her mind. Why did she suddenly prefer the hurting man to the one on his way to wholeness? Confusion needled at her. She disliked the man immensely, and once his leg healed, he would be gone. That thought should give her tremendous pleasure. But it didn’t, and an inkling of validity in her father’s words made her furious.
    â€œSoon I will be running like a strapping lad,” Henry said. “Already I’m leaning less and less on the crutch.”
    â€œIn your haste, are you causing more harm to your leg?” Delight instantly regretted her question. She wished Papa had never indicated his observations about Henry.
    Henry’s gaze met hers, causing another flush of warmth to her cheeks. “Methinks the use makes me stronger, but I thank ye for the concern.”
    She felt the stares of her sisters like a sharp sword. No doubt, they would have thought little if she had returned his comments with a sharp retort. “I … I hope you understand your healing is of utmost importance to all of us.”
    â€œCome along.” Papa’s voice rang out above the silence. “I am famished, and I’m sure Delight is as well.”
    â€œShall we call you when the meal is ready?” Mama said to Henry. “Or do you wish to join us now?”
    â€œThis is your family’s time together,” Henry said, already scrutinizing his weaving. “There is still more than an hour of daylight left, and I am eager to complete this piece. In fact, I should most enjoy eating here.”
    â€œVery well.” Mama linked her arm into Papa’s. “I will have one of the girls bring you a generous portion of venison stew.”
    â€œPlease, ma’am, could Miss Delight bring it to me?”

Chapter 7
    I f Delight had set her mind to behave like a heathen, she’d been given the opportunity. Her first evening at home, and Henry wanted her to deliver his meal? If he could hobble about on his crutch, he could make his way to the kitchen when he finished his weaving.
    As they strode toward the house, Papa stepped to her side and whispered, “Remember our conversation? This is an opportunity for you to extend Christian love and further instruct him in the way of patriots.”
    She obediently nodded but inwardly cringed. “Yes, Papa.”
    â€œWhen darkness settles, I’ll invite him to a game of checkers and afterward chess. I feel merriment in my bones.”
    Delight knew the details of Papa’s evening plans skirted around the war. He merely wished to postpone telling Mama he had enlisted in the Continental army. He had money stored away if times got lean before his return, and Uncle Matthew and Aunt Anne had already shared an abundance of vegetables and apples. All of the girls had been busy helping Mama preserve food for winter, from dried beans and squash to fruit preserves. Soon they would be cooking thick, dark apple butter flavored with sugar and cinnamon and pouring it into jars. Aunt Anne had given them rhubarb sauce from the spring and jelly from wild berries. Before Papa planned to leave, he’d help Uncle Matthew butcher pigs, sheep, and cows for the long winter ahead. Already, hams hung in the smokehouse.
    Enduring cold weather without Papa sounded more dismal than the inches of snow that would drift against the sides of their house. At least they had the companionship of Uncle Matthew and Aunt Anne—and there were other dear folk in Chesterfield, too—but how she longed to return to Boston. Delight shook her head. Dwelling on her gloomy situation would not change the current circumstances.
    Casting aside her contemplations, Delight took a pottery plate of the thick stew, a chunk of bread, and a pewter mug of milk to Henry. His