"Guess everybody has, time they get to Oregon." Winterson eyed Emma's chickens. "You wouldn't want to sell or trade a couple of those hens, would you?" "That's my wife's department," Joe said. "I don't believe so," Emma told Winterson. "We have only four left. There were six, but two of them were broody and went off to steal their nests. I haven't seen them since, and suppose some animal must have caught them." "That's our trouble too," Winterson said sadly. "We fetched three hens and a rooster all this way and they all went in one night. Martha tells me often, 'Henry, the sound I'm most lonesome for is a clucking hen.' Those are her very words. That's exactly what she tells me. I do have a right nice bunch of little pigs. My sow littered eleven, and I know that a piglet for a hen is giving a lot but I'd be willing--Hey, look!" Joe had mowed a wide swath to the creek, and as Winterson spoke one of the missing hens appeared in it. About her feet were a cluster of fluffy baby chicks, and the hen moved fussily around them. With a little squeal of joy, Emma ran forward. She knelt to gather the chicks in her apron, and clutched the hen beneath her arm. When she returned, her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. "Fourteen! Just fourteen! Joe, we must keep them in the house until you can build a coop where they'll be safe! I can't have anything happening to them!" "Boy, oh boy, oh boy!" Winterson breathed. "Would Martha like to see them! You have fourteen more chickens than you thought you had!" "Yes," Emma agreed happily. "You may take a hen now, Mr. Winterson." "Obliged to you," Winterson declared. "Right obliged, and Martha will just kick up her heels for pleasure! She's been so lonesome for a hen, and I'll bring the piglet when I fetch her to visit." Emma put her chicks in the living-room corner and the hen, feathers fluffed, clucked about them. Then she settled down on the floor and the babies ran beneath her feathers. Joe glanced at them and made a mental note to build a chicken coop as soon as possible. They needed a stable, too. But the mules, the cow, and Ellis's horse, were in no danger from prowling predators. The chickens were, and they must have a safe place. "This is right nice," Winterson eyed the interior of the house approvingly. "Right nice and big too. But I reckon you need it for that clutch of young ones you have. Martha and me, we built only one room and we're making out in that." "Don't you have any children?" Emma asked. "Not yet, but it won't be long. Martha and me, we were married the day before we left Vermont. The next day she said, 'Henry, I want three boys and three girls. We can start on them as soon as we're in Oregon.' Those were her very words. That's exactly what she said to me. Looks like we can expect the first one in about two months." Emma said, "I must be there."