Alden stared down at the book in his lap, but he didn’t turn the page. Isabelle had surprised him in many ways, but he’d been shocked when she announced their marriage to the men traveling with them.
Her declaration was a veneer, of course. Another layer to hide behind. He understood why she needed to slip into this role. Like Mrs.Dawson said, the title of marriage was a reasonable way to fight off unwelcome advances from men desperate for female companionship. In contrast to his thoughts about Mrs.Dawson, he quite liked the idea of being married to Isabelle.
The woman sitting next to him was beautiful and confident. Brave and compassionate. Elegant and aloof. If only he could gently peel back each layer under her lofty air, get to know what was hidden deep inside. If only he still had the income and status to engage her.
Back east, he would have pursued Isabelle Labrie with his whole heart, but she wouldn’t have to ward off advances from him here. Now that she realized he was a proponent of freedom, she was civil to him, but she’d made it clear that there was nothing personal between them.
He turned the page of his book, trying to refocus on the words: “Each of us has a natural right—from God—to defend his person, his liberty, and his property.”
He agreed with Frederic Bastiat. God had given each of them a natural right to defend their lives and their liberty.
The murky area in their country’s law was the definition of property. Mr.Webb and his own father would say that they had the right to defend their property, including their slaves, discounting the fact that they were stealing away another person’s liberty.
Greed—legal plunder, as Bastiat called it—was the root of many of their problems. When lawmakers made laws for personal gain, it perverted the whole system. Legal plunder meant injustice for people who’d been stripped of their natural rights.
People like Isabelle were working to give these natural rights back. Stephan said she’d heroically defended Persila, a stranger to her until Stephan brought her into the hotel. Alden admired her greatly for her public and personal stance.
The stagecoach was descending into the valley now, toward a river that streamed down from a lake flanked on both sides by willow trees and clumps of driftwood. On one of the banks was a makeshift mining camp of canvas tents and wooden rockers scattered across the landscape. The driver said they were spending the night at this camp before fording the river and finishing their journey to Columbia.
If he couldn’t find Judah in Columbia, he’d either find work in town or mark off a claim outside it. There would be no fancy hotel for him and Isaac. He’d be happy if they could afford a tent with the little of his money that remained.
The coach stopped a few yards from the camp, and the passengers all stepped swiftly out into the fresh air. It was warm here, but nothing like the heat in the city. Instead of smoke, it smelled like wild honeysuckle and pine.
The driver already had a tent pitched for his passengers, and several men from town sold them a quarter of antelope to roast. The river cascaded down a waterfall from the lake, but here the water loped peacefully around boulders beside the tent, pooling in the middle before it continued downstream.
Samuel rushed toward the river, splashing water on his head and hair. “Let’s take a swim.”
The other men agreed before turning warily toward Isabelle.
She pointed back toward the tent. “I’ll wait in there until you’re done.”
Isaac eyed the river. “I can wait in the tent too.”
Alden shook his head. “You need a bath.”
“So does Miss La—”
Alden interrupted him. “I’m sure Mrs.Payne doesn’t want to go swimming with us.”
Isabelle laughed. “Perhaps you can bring me a basin of water so I can wash off inside.”
Isaac checked the river again, and Alden realized that he’d probably never been swimming before. His mind wandered back to the hours he and Benjamin spent swimming in their pond and the creek nearby, at the fun they’d had racing and diving and pretending to ward off snakes. Every boy, in his opinion, should know how to swim.
Alden lowered his voice. “If you can learn to read, you can easily learn to swim.”
Samuel filled a basin for Isabelle, and she took it into the tent. Then the men stripped down and plunged into the cold pool. Mossy boulders surrounded their swimming hole, water rushing over each rock. The men swam toward the middle of the river, but Isaac stood on a shallow ledge, splashing himself to cool off.
Alden called for Isaac to join them. When the boy shook his head, Alden swam back to persuade him. So much had changed since Isaac had sat perched on the back of Eliza’s carriage, determined not to move. He’d grown in the past seven months, in stature and in experience. Now he needed to conquer this river.
“I’ll stay beside you,” Alden said.
Isaac glanced back at the shore behind them, and for the first time, Alden noticed something on the boy’s right shoulder blade. It was a red scar shaped like the bud of a rose with the letterVinside.
Anger flared inside him. How could Victor take a branding iron to a child—his son—searing the skin as a reminder that Isaac would always belong to him.
Isaac turned back around, and Alden blinked, trying to refocus his gaze and the thoughts coursing through his mind. “You can’t learn to swim unless you jump in all the way.”
Isaac scanned the surface. “It’s too deep.”
