When Magnus received the news he was very worried and not at all approving as Caleum had hoped. In fact he told his nephew he thought it foolish. No matter how mature Caleum was in many ways, seventeen was uncommonly young to begin a courtship, and he did not want his nephew to live to regret a youthful decision, made in haste, about something so important as who he shared his heart and home with. Out of respect for the young man, however, in the end he concluded that it would be best if they both considered it overnight and reconvened in the morning.

Adelia, being more romantic about such things, claimed it was possible that Caleum, young as he was, simply knew his mind in that way already. “Or would you rather he go about it as you and your brother did?” she asked her husband pointedly, as they lay in bed that night.

“I think you should better hold your tongue now,” Magnus said in reply, being unusually harsh with her, especially as theirs was a relationship in which love, when it was finally allowed to flow between then, did so without cease.

All the same, trusting her judgment, he found himself swayed by the argument, and not unrelieved the next morning when Caleum said his mind had not shifted during the night. After breakfast, then Magnus saddled his horse and went alone to call on Solomon Darson, Libbie’s father.

Mr. Darson was not much in touch with the domestic goings-on of his house and was surprised when Magnus announced his purpose. Still, it was a pleasant shock, and he was happy to receive the visit, for his daughter was at a suitable age and Stonehouses was quite a desirable place. Magnus then offered terms, should the courtship end in marriage, and named the dowry he expected in return. He could not help adding a premium to the amount, both because of Caleum’s tender age as well as the size of his eventual inheritance. Mr. Darson, who was normally quite garrulous and loved nothing so much as to argue and bargain, grew quiet when he heard the price but agreed quickly, if not enthusiastically — because he understood in the end how he was benefiting. He also delighted in his ability to pay such a fee.

Magnus concluded by telling Solomon Darson he thought a long courtship might be best, as Caleum was still young. Mr. Darson, who was more than a little obsequious toward Magnus, agreed that the courtship should be as long as he said, and offered his guest a drink in celebration, which Magnus declined.

His terms settled, Magnus stood to leave without ceremony, but confident in his position as the stronger party in the negotiations, and asked for his horse to be brought out from the stable. Before he left, however, not wanting to give offense, he thought to make a bow to Mrs. Darson and shake hands with her husband in front of her, warmly enough that they seemed like old friends who had just finished dinner instead of a business deal.

When he returned home Magnus called Caleum into the parlor and told him he was free to begin courting Libbie. Caleum, when he heard, sat up in his seat very straight. Instead of fear, which Magnus had been half expecting and half hoping to see on his face, the young man seemed self-assured and smiled at his uncle as he thanked him. “I know you don’t think I’m ready yet, sir, but I am.”

“I still think you would be better served to take your time with all of it. If she has your heart, it won’t go anywhere.”

“I’m not anxious about that,” Caleum said precociously.

Looking at him in that moment Magnus saw the same confidence Purchase had always carried with himself and was proud of his nephew that he had inherited that quality.

“All the same, it’s my business to shepherd your affairs, and I would be failing you in that if I advised otherwise.”

Caleum, ever dutiful, could see then how much his uncle had worked to be a good guardian and felt himself lucky to have such a parent in place of his own, who had abandoned him. Still, he knew his own mind and thought himself well prepared for the next phase of shepherding and guarding himself as well as a wife.

He called on Libbie at the end of the week, riding his horse through the tumult of autumn colors as first frost descended into the valley from higher up. When he came up the narrow way to their house, Libbie, who was in the parlor, saw him and left in an excited rush to prepare herself. It was no coincidence she was at the window, which had no glass, only wooden shutters, and still stood open at just that time. She had been lurking about there the entire four days since Mr. Merian had come to see her father.

When Caleum knocked at the front door, Mr. Darson himself opened it and welcomed the young man into the house. The two of them entered the parlor together, and the entire family was there. Caleum greeted each in turn, even Eli and George, though more distantly.

Similarly, George and Eli were forced to defer to Caleum when they saw their father treated him like a grown man and equal while he still treated them like boys. It did not sit well with them, but they were without power to affect the situation for the time being.

“Libbie, why don’t you show Caleum your embroidery,” Mrs. Darson recommended, after he had sat down. “Libbie is very accomplished at needlecraft and sewing.”

The girl, suddenly shy, smiled downward and sat without moving for a moment, before gathering herself to go off and fetch the things her mother suggested. She returned with a square piece of cloth she had decorated for a pillow.

When Caleum saw it, he thought it was artful indeed and complimented her on it. “It is so pretty,” he said, looking her in the face until she turned her head downward again. “It’s going to make the prettiest pillow in the whole county.” He looked at her for a response, as she continued to smile into her own lap for embarrassment of looking at him directly.

“Why don’t we all leave them so they can talk together a spell,” Mr. Darson told his sons, standing from his own seat.

Caleum stood until the family had left the room. When he and Libbie were alone, he sat down again closer to her. “How did you learn to embroider so well?” he asked, grown more awkward when they were left alone.

“It only comes to me,” she answered. “For each piece of fabric, I think what it most reminds of, then try to fashion that.”

“Well, it sure is something,” Caleum told her. “I could never do such a thing myself.”

“You yourself must make something, though,” she replied modestly. “Everybody makes something.”

“No, not me. I don’t have the eye for it.”

“Well, I bet you’ll make a good planter,” she said. “That is something that requires knowing a great deal. Maybe not everyone’s talent after all is to create, but that some people have a talent for shepherding, which is just as necessary.”

“Perhaps,” Caleum replied, impressed with her good sense. “I think the two together must complement each other handsomely.”

Libbie could not help but turn away again.

When she did so, Caleum reached out and briefly took her hand. She turned her attention directly to him after that, and they stared straight into each other’s eyes, until Mrs. Darson returned to the room. Caleum quickly stood up again when he saw her in the doorway.

“It has been very nice visiting with you, Mr. Merian,” she said, coming into the middle of the room, where she stood like an immovable pillar.

“Yes, I must get back now. May I return next week?”

“Please do,” Libbie said, then quickly looked to her mother.

“Yes, we would enjoy that,” Mrs. Darson affirmed.

Caleum was happy then as both women wished him a pleasant ride back to Stonehouses. On the way he dreamed of the home he would create with Libbie, and all the comforts and security it would contain. That will be my great talent, he told himself, to make a home like Stonehouses for my own wife and children. As he thought this he began to think of his parents. He spurred his horse then into a fast gallop, wanting to burn away the memory of rejection.