* * *

There were three kinds of meat for dinner, pickled tomatoes, Curiosity's best beans stewed with fatback, drop biscuits, a trifle laced with more brandy than was seemly, and there was Kitty, staring at Elizabeth as if she had just murdered her own family before she sat down to eat. Because her father and Mr. Witherspoon seemed content to discuss the weather for the entire meal, and because Richard had not arrived as expected, Elizabeth was able to avoid any topic which would cause her to deal with the younger woman directly. Kitty's anger toward Elizabeth was implacable: Richard was at the heart of it, and Elizabeth could not make amends. Not at the moment, at any rate. She concentrated on her meal and spoke only when Mr. Witherspoon directed a question toward her, or when Julian tried to draw her into one of his stories.

The judge seemed perfectly willing to continue the discussion of the thaw as they settled in the parlor after dinner, but Julian had had enough and he let it be known.

"There must be something to do at this time of year besides discuss the weather," he said impatiently.

"There's nothing to do here, there never is," Kitty said dramatically.

"Daughter," Mr. Witherspoon admonished softly, but Kitty turned her face away from him.

"Todd had the right idea, didn't he?" said Julian. "There must be something worth doing in Johnstown. Should have gone with him," he said. "I don't wonder that they've thought up a party of some kind."

Given the crushed look on Kitty's face, Elizabeth wished that her brother would stop, but he went on, oblivious, wondering what could be keeping Richard in Johnstown, and how he, Julian, should have had his share in the fun.

"You'll have your wish soon enough," the judge said. "We start for Johnstown next week. Things to look after, you know." He was looking at Elizabeth thoughtfully.

Elizabeth did her very best to remain impassive, glad for once that her brother's manners did not give her the opportunity to speak.

"Next week? In this weather? Whatever for? Not that I should complain, it will be good to get out—won't it, Lizzie? Oh," he went on, not giving Elizabeth a chance to agree or decline. "Lizzie won't want to come away, will she, there's her school. Responsibilities to see to, and all that. She's not free to go off at a whim anymore, are you, Lizzie?"

"I think Elizabeth will come along this time," the judge said with knowing lift of one brow. "There are business matters to attend to, after all. Taxes, and so forth."

Elizabeth's first thought was one of relief it was already nearing the end of the first week of April, and her father had not mentioned the deed of gift or the property transfer for months. She had begun to fear he had changed his mind about this arrangement. Many nights she had lain awake wondering what she would do if this were the case, how she could get word to Nathaniel, what he would say. Now it seemed as though he was about to make an announcement, without Richard present. It was confusing, and it was worrying, and she knew these things showed on her face. She could feel Kitty Witherspoon watching her closely, her own mouth folded into a tight line of disapproval and hardly concealed envy.

"What's all this about, Father?" asked Julian, relieving Elizabeth of the necessity of an answer.

There was a forceful knock at the door, and the judge got up, smiling.

"That will be Richard," he said. "Let's ask him, why don't we?"

Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap and forced her face into calm lines. This was what she had been waiting for, preparing for. She would make it seem as though she were finally accepting Richard. Suddenly she was glad of Kitty's presence, which would explain her unwillingness to come directly to a clear answer, or to show any joy or even enthusiasm. Even the men would understand that. They would agree on a day to go to Johnstown to sign the deed before Mr. Bennett, as magistrate. Somehow she would have to get word to Hidden Wolf.

She was so wound up in these thoughts that she barely took in the way the room had fallen silent.

Elizabeth looked up expecting Richard and saw Nathaniel instead. He stood filling the doorway, his face tight with barely controlled anger. From one hand hung the carcass of a beaver, its great tail dripping water and blood; with the other hand he held a silent and terrified Liam Kirby firmly by the neck.

* * *

"Are we at home for such a purpose on a Saturday?" Julian interrupted while Nathaniel was laying out the story of finding Liam taking the beaver from his traps. "I should think this could wait until a more opportune moment."

The judge didn't even glance in his son's direction. "It cannot," he said shortly. "If a resident of Paradise seeks me out in my official capacity, then I am always at home. Now," he said in his deepest voice. "Carry on, Nathaniel. And please, Julian, let the man talk."

"There ain't much more to tell you can't see for yourself." Nathaniel said. "The boy has been stealing from my traps, pretty much the whole winter. But this is the first I caught him. I don't usually walk the trap line this time of day, you see."

Liam stood in the center of the room, his vision focused on his own boots and the puddle he was creating on the carpet. Where his ears peeked out from his hair they were a peculiar bright shade of red. He had not yet spoken, but he twisted his cap in his hands convulsively.

"What do you have to say for yourself Liam?" asked the judge.

"I ain't done nothing," he said in a hoarse whisper.