He wondered briefly whether perhaps he should take Dottie there for a while. The weather was getting colder and rain more frequent; a newly bereaved woman weakened by illness surely oughtn’t to be required to ride through storms and mud for weeks. And if Manoke was still in residence, he and the Indian could easily repair enough of the house to give them shelter …

No. This was a fantasy, born of his own desire to sit still on his shattered stoop and think about things. He needed to get Dottie back to Uncle Hal as soon as possible, where she could be taken care of, heal in the bosom of her family. And, said a small treacherous voice in the back of his mind, you might just want to see Amaranthus again before too long.

“That, too,” he said aloud, and nudged his horse into a faster pace.

He had enough money to bring Dottie back by coach—but that was assuming a coach was to be had. The settlement of Wilkins Corner boasted three oxen, one mule, and a small herd of goats, plus the odd pig or two. There were only four houses, and a brief inquiry of a woman milking a goat sent him directly to the door of Fear God Elmsworth.

This gentleman proved to be in his eighties and quite deaf, but his much younger wife—only sixty or so—was able by shouting into his ear at a distance of two inches to get across to him William’s identity and mission.

“Dorothea, you say?” Mr. Elmsworth cocked a bushy brow at William. “What’s he want with her?”

“I … am … her … cousin,” William said, leaning down to address the old gentleman at the top of his voice.

“Cousin? Cousin?” The old man looked at his wife for confirmation of this unlikely statement, and receiving it, shook his head. “You don’t look nothin’ like her.”

William turned to the wife.

“Will you please tell your husband that Dorothea’s father is my uncle, and his brother is my stepfather?”

The woman heard this but was plainly baffled by the genealogical information, for she opened her mouth for a moment, then shut it, frowning.

“Never mind,” William said, keeping his patience. “Please, just tell Dorothea that I’m here.”

“Dorothea ain’t here,” said Mr. Elmsworth, somehow catching this. He looked puzzled and glanced at his wife. “Is she?”

“No, she isn’t,” said Mrs. Elmsworth, looking puzzled as well.

William took a deep breath and decided that shaking Mrs. Elmsworth until her head rattled wouldn’t be the act of a gentleman.

“Where is she?” he inquired, gently.

Mrs. Elmsworth looked surprised.

“Why, her brother came and fetched her, near on a month ago.”

WILLIAM HAD NODDED in automatic response to Mrs. Elmsworth, but then actually heard what she’d said and jerked as though stung by a bee.

“Her brother,” he repeated carefully, and both the old people nodded. “Her brother. What was his name?”