“Have you seen him?” Master asks. “Here?”

“I seen her coming back from him just this morning.”

“But you ain’t seen him?” Annie says. “Maple, you gonna get her whipped for a hunch that ain’t even true.”

“I don’t need to see him to know where she’s been.” I glare at Annie to shut her trap. “You can see for yourself, Master. She ain’t sleeping with Red like you told her to.”

“I seen her with Red,” Annie says, ignoring my glare. “I seen her with him plenty. And, like you say, Master, that blacksmith went weeks ago. He’s gonna be long gone.”

“Yes. You’re right, Annie. And Sarah and Red were both very grateful for the pairing,” Master says. “I’m sure you misunderstood whatever you think you saw, Maple. But you were right to bring it to my attention just the same.”

He looks down at the beginnings of Miss Martha’s garden, the roses already wilting and the petunias with their heads kicked off. “Well, this is coming along nicely. It needs a bit of work, but it’s going to be splendid.”

Chapter 63

Henry

At twelve minutes past ten o’clock, I take the railway to Washington to let Ennis know we won’t be in Cumberland, and because what I have to ask him needs to be done face-to-face. It also has to be done quickly. I have a new plan to get Sarah out, but it’s full of holes and has a hundred different ways it could fail. Without Ennis Flanagan it can’t work at all.

Waiting for him at the Golden Eagle Tavern, I pull out the strip of cloth from Sarah’s dress that she used for my hand and that we tied as our binding cloth, rubbing it like a worry stone. I twirl it around my fingers and order another drink. I’m on my third whiskey when Ennis shows up, my nerves clenched tighter than a fist.

He storms into the room frowning, his mouth skew under his bushy beard. “What the hell’s the matter with you? I told you to be ready to go and you disappear for weeks. And then suddenly you’re ready. And then you’re not again. The West won’t wait for us, you daft bastard. Now, do I need to look for a new blacksmith or are you going to do what you said you would?”

“I need your help,” I say.

He sinks on to the barstool beside me and rubs his forehead. “You look like shite,” he says. He takes the drink in front of me and tips it back. “So tell me, why am I meeting you here when I should be meeting you in Cumberland?”

With my fingernails, I trace the veins of the rough wooden planks running along the bar, finding my words.

“It’s that girl of yours, am I right? Her father found out what the two of you were up to.”

“Ennis, listen,” I say.

“Christ, Henry. Give it up. You’ll find a nice frontier girl in Independence.”