I crouch from tree to tree, picking my way closer and, checking that no one’s about, I dart into her cabin. Sarah’s not there, but Bessie is, and so are Annie and Willa. I curse my impatience as I try to think what to do. They’ve seen me. Now they’ve got a way to make trouble for Sarah.

“Is that Red?” Bessie asks from the table where she sits.

I don’t say anything. Looking from one to the other, I put my finger to my lips wondering if I could sneak back out.

“No. That’s Sarah’s blacksmith,” Annie says.

My stomach flips for Sarah.

“Mister Taylor?” Bessie says. “Come on and have a sit-down. I reckon I need to talk to you.”

Maybe I could bribe them into not telling that I’ve been here. I make my way to her table and sit opposite, trying to think of what I could offer for their silence.

“Do you have a home, Mister Taylor?” Bessie asks.

I blink at her, gaping. A house is a lot to ask for, and not much use to her here.

Annie and Willa lean in for my answer.

It feels like there’s a trick to this question.

“Where’s Sarah?” I ask instead.

“She’ll be by,” says Annie. “But we was wondering if you got a place.” She glances at Bessie and says, “Somewhere a freed slave woman could stay with you?”

My heart jumps, hoping maybe Mister Johnson changed his mind about Sarah. “I can. I will. We’re heading west,” I say. “To the head of the Oregon Trail. I’ll build her a place when we get there.”

“That ain’t no good,” says Willa.

“No,” says Bessie, as her sons come bustling in with Callie May. “That don’t help me none.”

Samson, Clover and Callie May hesitate when they see me, but then Clover and Samson both say, “Evening,” and walk on in.

“How you doing, Momma Bessie?” Callie May says, going to her side.

When I see this, my first thought with them pawing around her so concerned is that Bessie’s sick. Maybe Ben’s dying has pushed her to her end, like Ma’s dying did to Da.

My second thought is that now with the six of them knowing I’m here, the bribing’s getting trickier.

“I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t mention to Matthew Johnson that you’d seen me,” I say.

Bessie reaches across the table and pats my hand. “Ain’t nobody gonna say nothing about you being here.”

“Where’s Sarah?” Annie asks the three of them who’ve just come in. It’s what I want to know as well.

“Making something to soak her fingers,” Samson says.

I don’t like that he knows this. It seems too familiar that he should.

The door opens again and I expect it to be Sarah, but it’s Red, and I tense when I see him. At every gathering it’s always Red who makes it clear I’m not welcome. I expect him to rail at me that I’ve been kicked off Jubilee and I ought to stay away, but he tips his head to me and comes and puts his hand on Bessie’s shoulder.