“You must realize,” Jemima said, slowly, “that by rights, the orchard should go to Nicholas.”

She got up stiffly to walk over to the bed. Hannah waited until she had settled herself and she said, “So you know about the Bleeding Heart.”

A flicker of a smile. “Now I do.”

“You knew before. You heard about it by chance, from a farmer near Boston.”

“If you know the answers, why are you bothering to ask?”

“So the long and short of it is, you came back here to claim the orchard for Nicholas. You are worried about what will become of him when you’re dead. Did it ever occur to you to just ask Martha or Callie to take him in? Why do you assume they are as small-minded and selfish as you?”

“You always thought you were smarter than anyone else,” Jemima said.

“Is your husband coming?”

“No,” Jemima said. “He is not.”

“Was he your husband to start with?”

“Another thing you’ll never know for sure.”

“You’re here because you have no place else to go, and you need to make arrangements for the boy.”

Jemima said, “I believe I’ve answered enough questions. It’s my turn to talk. I want you to arrange for me to be carried up to Martha’s house in the strawberry fields, by tomorrow morning at the latest. I don’t intend to die under Becca LeBlanc’s roof.”

The idea so surprised Hannah that she had trouble collecting her thoughts. “What makes you think Martha and Daniel would agree to such a thing?”

“They’ll agree,” Jemima said. “Or pay the consequences.”

“What could you possibly do to them at this stage?”

The pain was coming on stronger now, Hannah could see it in Jemima’s face. And still she would have the last word, no matter what it cost her.

Her voice was unsteady. “I know things. I know things Martha and Callie and even your Saint Ethan wouldn’t want made public.”

“I see your game now,” Hannah said. “You’re trying to goad someone into killing you.”

Jemima smiled. She said, “Is it working?”

Hannah took a deep breath. Then she picked up her bag and left, closing the door behind herself.

Alice and Joan were waiting for her at the bottom of the stair, both of them on edge. As well they should be, thought Hannah.

“I hope you two are proud of yourself,” she said. “Does your mother know about this?”

Alice drew up, affronted, and launched into a lecture that Hannah cut off with a sharp look. She fished a small bottle out of her bag and thrust it into Joan’s hands.

“Laudanum. Dilute a tablespoon in a half glass of warm water and have her drink it slowly, or she’ll bring it right up. She can have that much every two hours.”

“It’s just her bowels gripping her,” Alice announced, as if this would make it true.

“Among other things,” Hannah said, and she walked out of the Red Dog into the bright July afternoon.

—

Martha put the flat of her hand to her brow to cut out the sun, and then she said, “Look, there’s Hannah. She came down after all.”

Daniel turned and saw his sister weaving her way through the crowd. She was trailing little people in a long tail, all of them plying her with questions and stories and requests for pennies.

There was something wrong. He looked around himself for Simon and Luke, but there was no sign of them here. Most likely they were down at the lake where some of the trappers were wagering on log rolling. If Lily or Jennet had gone into labor they would need to know.

Henry was saying, “Ma, can we stay until dusk? Can we stay and watch the dancing and the fireworks? Can we?”

Hannah came to a stop and looked down at him. “If you promise to keep an eye on your brothers and sisters and cousins.”

“We’ll all do that,” Nathan said, and heads bobbed in agreement.

“Then off with you,” she said, and they turned toward the trading post where some of the women were cooking doughnuts that were snatched up as soon as they were pulled from the sputtering fat.

Martha put her hand on Hannah’s arm. “What is it? Should we fetch Simon?”

“It’s not Lily or Jennet,” Hannah said. “But I need to talk to you and Curiosity and Callie.”

The last time Daniel had seen Hannah this distracted and curt she had been on her way to see about a little girl who had fallen into the hearth in the middle of winter. A little girl who had just begun to walk, and Hannah had been pregnant with Henry at the time.

He said, “What do you need me to do?”

“Send them both up to my shed,” she said. “Your ma too. The quicker the better.”

Martha left with Hannah, and Daniel set out at a trot to track down the others.

It was Birdie who caught him up before he had got very far. “Where are Martha and Hannah going?”

“To Hannah’s shed,” he said. “You could probably catch them up, if you don’t care about the footraces.”

He knew Birdie as well as anyone on this earth knew her, including their parents. If he had forbidden her to follow, she would have found a way unless he tied her to a hitching post, and probably even then.

He said, “You seen Luke around, or Ben?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “When Martha’s gone you get this look on your face like a dog that’s being scolded. I guess you must be thankful to me for matchmaking you two together in the spring.”