Peony sighed, holding her arms crossed in front of her bosom in an effort to be modest. “Friends of the man who wanted me to bear his mark,” she answered. “His name is Increase Pipher.”

Bliss mulled the name over while she went back to the parlor for Peony’s satchels, but she couldn’t place it. If she’d heard of the man before, it had escaped her memory.

Peony put on a cotton nightdress, with Bliss’s help, and crawled into bed on her stomach. She must have been exhausted, for by the time Bliss had returned with her tea, she was sound asleep.

Bliss entered the kitchen, where Sam was sitting patiently at the table, and went on out through the rear door. Behind the chicken coop, where Caesar was still trapped underneath the washtub, she threw up until there was nothing left in her stomach.

She paused at the well to splash cold water on her face afterward and rinse out her mouth, then walked resolutely into the house again.

“Sit down, Mrs. McKenna,” Sam pleaded. “You look near as peaky as Mrs. Ryan.”

Bliss thought of the brutality that had been inflicted on Peony and did as Sam asked. Her hand shook visibly as she poured tea for herself and took a cautious sip. “Sam, are you a friend of Mrs. Ryan’s?”

Sam shook his head, looking hungrily at the bowl of fresh fruit sitting in the middle of the table. “My brother-in-law drives her carriage,” he answered. “I be a seafarin’ man, myself, between voyages. After this awful thing had happened, Mrs. Ryan wanted someone to bring her to your husband. We came as far as we could on the train, then hired a wagon.”

Bliss slid the fruit bowl toward Sam. “Help yourself,” she said. “I’ve got bread, too, and cold meat—”

Sam looked so grateful that Bliss got up from her chair to find the bread and meat right away. While he ate, the sailor related all that he knew about Peony’s attackers, which wasn’t much. The maid and cook had been out the night it happened, and the ordeal was long over before Mrs. Ryan was found.

“You got a rifle here?” he asked as he finished both his story and his food. “Won’t be safe, two women alone.”

“No rifle,” Bliss said, then bit her lip. Jamie hadn’t said good-bye, let alone given her instructions about what to do in an emergency. He’d only said that Dog would take care of her. She patted the animal’s massive head and frowned distractedly.

“Well, I’d stay and look after you ladies,” Sam said apologetically, “but I’ve got a ship to catch.” A bright smile lit his face. “She’s a trade ship now, is the Elisabeth Lee, but once she was a whaler. Aussie she is—out of Sydney Town—and I’ve got myself a berth.”

Sam’s enthusiasm was such that Bliss allowed herself to be distracted from her dilemma for a few minutes. “And where will you be going?” she asked, truly interested.