The next week, as he had promised, Henry Winterson brought his pretty young wife for a visit. They came in a light wagon drawn by the huge white horse and another, smaller animal. Despite the awkwardness of her body, there was a calm assurance and easy poise about Martha Winterson that Joe warmed to at once. He knew that he would always be at ease with her.
"So glad you could come," he greeted, "and Emma will be happy to see you. Come on in—"
Before he finished speaking, Emma came out. She put a motherly hand around the other's shoulder.
"I'm Emma," she said warmly. "And I know you're Martha. Your husband told us all about you. Now you just come right in and make yourself comfortable while I fix you a cup of coffee."
They entered the house. Winterson went to the wagon and from it took a small, frightened pig with its legs trussed.
"Brought it," he said cheerfully. "Martha was so tickled to see the hen that she said, 'Why don't you take them two pigs, Henry? Why be stingy?' Those were her very words. That's exactly what she said to me. But I told her a bargain's a bargain, and here's the pig. What are you going to do with it?"
"Keep it in the stable," Joe decided, "until I can build a pen. Say, you don't have a team of horses or mules to sell, do you?"
"What for? You have a team."
"The kids need it. They're getting married next week."
"Glory be!" Winterson breathed. "I have a black horse at home. He's not as big as the white but he's sound and a good worker. You can have him for fifty—No! Forty dollars. This is a special occasion and those kids have to be started right."