“Tomorrow, stay off the streets. Find a hole and crawl in it.”

“That what you going to do, find yourself a hole?” She laughed.

“Forget it,” he said. “No use talking to you.”

She said, “Too bad you got to go home to that ice queen.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my wife.” He raised his hand, but he wasn’t sure what he meant to do. He couldn’t strike her—he’d never struck a woman in his life. But he had to do something, so he walked into the dining room.

She followed. “She thaw out sometimes, with the right man.”

“What?” He turned.

She went around the table and played with her apron strings. “Some girls fancy a preacher man. Not me, but some girls.”

“What are you talking about? Tell me plain.”

“Shoot, ain’t no use talking to you.” She grinned, then disappeared through the swinging door into the kitchen, where he heard her laughing.

Then another door slammed, and Sam heard Waddell’s crooning murmur from behind the closed doors of the library. Presently, he and Gabrielle appeared in the dining room. Her face was flushed, and she would not meet his eye. She said, “Bessie’s down at the market. I’ll serve the lunch.”

While she busied herself in the kitchen, Waddell poured them both glasses of iced tea from a pitcher on the sideboard. “I hope you’ve thought about what I said.”

“Of course. But I still don’t understand why you need me.”

“Things are starting to happen. When they’re done happening, this will be a different city. The old virtues will matter again—loyalty, honor.”

Sam sipped his tea. God, he was beginning to hate the stuff.

“I’ll be frank,” Waddell said. “My own son—”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“Let me finish. A man wants to be remembered. To pass on his legacy. I have a son, but he is no good to me. No good at all. I need someone I can count on.”

“To tell your story.”

“Somebody who has mettle, who is not easily swayed. You were in Cuba—you won’t flinch.”

Sam shrugged. It was easy to watch other men being brave, even in Cuba. “A lot of men fit that description.”

Waddell waved a hand. “Not as many as you’d think. Not like the old days.” He wagged a finger. “But you—I saw it in your eyes that first day on the train. You would not meddle in other men’s business, until it was a matter of personal honor.”

When the Red Shirt had grabbed Gray Ellen. Given another chance, Sam knew now, he might take sides sooner.

“Mainly, I need someone who has no debts.” Waddell waited for it to sink in. “Someone who is not connected to the regimes of the past.”

“Hugh MacRae—my cousin, remember?”

“I can work with Hugh. But I need a sort of protégé, if you take my meaning.”

“I already have a job. I don’t have any training in the law.”