“Tell us then, how do you trap a slippery good-for-nothing?” Devin asked.

“Be as slippery as he is,” Willow said.

Walcott scratched his head. “What do you mean?”

“Enough,” Slatter said. “Another word will not be discussed until I can talk with my wife privately.”

“As long as we have a plan before I leave in two days,” Devin said. “My wife, May, expects me home by then and I can’t disappoint her or she’ll come looking for me.”

“I thought this was your home,” Willow said, looking puzzled. “Where is your home?”

Devin appeared a bit flustered as he looked from Slatter to her, his mouth opened to speak but nothing coming out.

A piercing screech had them all turning to see a young lass, no more than eight years, crying and clutching her arm as several other children gathered around her. One ran ahead to pound on one of the cottage doors.

“Erna’s hurt!” the young lad called out frantically.

The door swung open and the woman who had brought Willow food last night rushed to the lass, her face turning pure white when she looked at the wound.

Willow didn’t hesitate, she rushed to the lass’s aid.

Slatter followed along with Devin and Walcott.

“I’m sorry, Mum, I’m sorry,” Erna cried. “I shouldn’t have climbed the tree.”

“Hush now, it’s all right,” her mum soothed, but the deep worry that wrinkled her brow showed otherwise.

“May I help?” Willow asked when she reached them.

“You’ll stay away from my daughter,” the woman ordered, stepping in front of Erna.

“I would rethink that decision, Roanna,” Slatter said, coming to a stop behind his wife. “Willow is a wise healer and can help Erna.”

“There is talk she will bring us harm,” Roanna challenged.

“Do you truly believe I would wed a woman and bring her among us if I thought she would bring us harm?” he asked.

“If you loved her, aye, but you wed this one,” —she nodded toward Willow— “to save her. That is no marriage. So how then do we trust her?”

“I trust her, Roanna. Isn’t that enough?” Slatter asked.

“Mum, it hurts,” Erna cried and had her mum turning to her. “I’m going to die just like Da.” Tears rolled down the young lass’s cheek while fear filled her wet, brown eyes.

“No. No, Erna,” Roanna said, her own tears falling.

“But the same happened to Da’s leg and he died,” Erna cried, the hurtful memories running a tremble through her small body.

“Let me have a look and let’s see what can be done,” Willow said, stepping over to Erna.

This time Roanna didn’t stop her.

A cracked bone was protruding slightly from her forearm. Willow had seen her mum mend such a wound, though it hadn’t been easy, especially when fever had set in, but in the end the man had healed and still praised her mum’s healing skills to this day. Willow only hoped she could do the same for the lass.