The overseer glares at Master, then he turns his hate over to me and Henry. He spits at Henry’s feet, right there on the rug in Master’s study, and shoves me as he storms out of the room. I right myself, clutching the rug beater so hard I’m surprised it ain’t broke in two by now. We all stand there listening to the stomp, stomp of his boots on the floors and the slam of the front door.

Master gets up from his chair and walks around the desk to Henry. He lays a hand on his shoulder. Henry shifts his stance.

“Taylor, you were right to stop him. And I’m sure there’s no truth to what he claims.”

I see the muscles working in Henry’s jaws and his eyes going hard. He flicks his gaze to the window and keeps it steady, staring at the western woods.

“I’m sure you know how wrong that would be,” Master says. He takes his hand off Henry’s shoulder and crosses back to his desk. “That will be all. You can both get back to work.”

We leave the room and walk through the hall, out the back door to the porch and down the steps.

“You all right?” Henry asks when we get to the lawn.

“He’s leaving,” I say.

He brushes the back of my hand and turns left across the yard back to his forge.

Chapter 41

Henry

I sense her before I see her, standing off at a distance, watching. I’m at my forge, banking the fire, finishing up for the day, when she comes by. I smooth my hair back and stand.

“Evening,” I say.

She keeps back and doesn’t say anything. Instead, she glances toward the overseer’s cabin behind the hill. I can see she’s still wound up tight.

“He’s really gone,” I tell her.

She nods and takes a step closer to the dying fire. The glow of the embers makes her skin shine like polished wood.

“I keep thinking I’m gonna see him coming round a corner,” she says.

I shake my head and move to stand beside her. “I watched him go myself.”

“Bessie heard about what he done,” she says, flattening the folds of her skirt. “She says she’s sorry for sending me out last night.” She looks at the coals as she speaks. “She says I can come on back tonight.”

My gut clenches.

“So,” her voice is soft and uncertain, “I come by to say you don’t got to put up with me taking up your sleeping space no more.”

I should give her up. It’s been dangerous enough for both of us already and if we keep it going, there’s no telling what it will cost us. This job, for sure. And who knows what for her. I should wish her well and let her go, but I say, “I’m already used to you there next to me. I don’t think I can get comfortable again on my own.”

I brush my fingers along her hand. She weaves them in between hers.