“Remember we talked one night at the table, all of us, about honoring our parents?”

“Yes, one of the commandments. ‘Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with a promise. That it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth.’ We talked about having some mighty poor parents to choose from, and how do you honor someone who’s lived a long life of cheating and being the worst kind of thief?”

Win moved to rest her head on his shoulder again. She slept close to him every night, and he reveled in it. She filled a lonely place in his heart that he hadn’t even known was there. And when he’d told her that, she’d glowed and told him she felt just the same.

No longer alone.

“I’ve been thinking about that.” She settled into his arms. “About how to honor my wretched father. Even if he doesn’t turn out to be a murderer, he was never kind. Never wanted me around. He was eager to send me off to live with Cheyenne’s family. All while he’d speak ill of them because he didn’t consider Cheyenne and her ma to be ladylike. They were working hard outside while Pa sat inside, living off my mother’s wealth. So how do I honor a man who never cared about me? Never gave me any time or love or kindness. Was never in any real way a father to me.”

“And have you figured it out? Because I’d like to hear it if you have. I can’t quite believe it’s right to honor a man such as Clovis Hunt.”

“Your pa is dead. I think that puts him beyond anything you can do.” Win sat up, and Kevin saw her clearly in the moonlight that came through the window. It bathed her in blue, her hair like midnight, her skin mysterious and cool. “But my pa is right here, nearby. All I can think of to honor him is . . . is . . .” Shaking her head, she went on, “It’s not enough, maybe it’s not even right, but I think I honor him by not being like him. By praying for him. By talking to him if he gives me a chance.”

“You’d have to be careful not to warn him or make him suspicious of Molly.”

Nodding, Win lay down again. “I can’t have a really frank talk with him about how he’s hurt me, not now. But I can pray for him. I can be courteous and go see him. And when this is over, assuming he’s locked up tight somewhere, I can . . . can treat him like Jesus treated those in prison, those who were lame or sick or hungry. I can confront him with the truth and give him a chance to be honest with me.”