The forks, knives, and spoons Bliss had taken up clattered back into their drawer. After taking the potato, egg, hash, and onion mixture off the heat, she sat down at the table, all her attention fixed on Peony.

The story was long and grisly. Increase Pipher was the same man who had scarred Jamie’s back with his whip all those years ago. By setting fire to Pipher’s cane fields, Peony had managed to divert the plantation owner’s attention long enough to free Jamie from the tree he’d been bound to, lead him away, and tend his wounds.

Together, with Jamie only half-conscious much of the time, the two of them had made their way to Brisbane, riding in farmers’ wagons when they could, traveling on foot when there was no other choice. In the city, Peony had sold the jewelry Pipher had given her—she freely admitted that she’d been the man’s mistress, despising him all the while—and bought passage for herself and Jamie on a ship bound for New Zealand.

In Auckland, though, they’d come to a parting of the ways. Jamie had taken up with a sheep thief of considerable renown—Cutter—and gone back to his larcenous ways, while Peony had sought out a married cousin and asked for help.

Eventually, Peony had married a shipping agency owner named Ben Ryan—her eyes misted over with tears when she talked about him—and they’d been blissfully happy together. Alas, he’d died of an illness after only a few years.

Bliss got up when Peony fell silent, and busied herself brewing another pot of tea. She was just about to ask Peony more questions when Dog began to fidget. A moment later, she heard a noise in the distance.

“A rider and a horse,” Peony said, but she didn’t sound pleased.

Although Bliss hoped the rider would be Jamie, she was struck by caution. Suppose, she thought to herself, the visitor were Increase Pipher, or one of his henchmen, come to find out whether the house was unguarded?

Putting a finger to her lips to bid Peony to be silent, Bliss took a cast-iron skillet from the pan cupboard and started toward the front of the house, Dog traipsing along at her heels. She could barely see the stranger in the gloom, through the parlor window, but she knew this was not Jamie, nor was it anyone else she was acquainted with.

The man was very tall and broad in the shoulders, and he dismounted with an easy grace that said he was accustomed to riding. As he strode toward the house, Bliss saw the moonlight catch in hair as black as a politician’s heart.

She held her breath as the man came up onto the porch and knocked resolutely at the door.

Dog barked hysterically, but Bliss bit her lower lip and glared Peony into silence when she would have called out

“I know you’re in there,” the man shouted, knocking harder. “In the name of all that’s holy, open the door! I didn’t come all this way to stand in the cold, dammit!”