She could feel herself go hot and red. “But I won’t,” she said fiercely. “Now I know you, I couldn’t ever.”

“Thank you,” he said. “A compliment as beautiful as the giver.”

“It’s dark in here,” Lyddie said. “Or you could see I’m plain as sod.”

“Or lovely as the earth.” He used such fancy words, but she knew he wasn’t using words to make fun of her.

*  *  *

Luke did come in the night, but she had slept so soundly that she didn’t hear him. The proof was the odor of porridge bubbling over the fire when she awoke. She had slept in her clothes, and scrambled down the loft ladder at once.

“Ah, the sleeper awaketh!”

“It’s late,” she said. “I have to go.” But he made her wait long enough to eat.

It was a strange good-bye. She did not hope to see Ezekial again. She hoped that he could cross the border fast as a fox—far away from the snares of those who would trap him. How could she have imagined for one minute that she could betray him? “I hope you get to Canada safe,” she said. “And I hope your family can join you real soon.” And then, without even thinking, she thrust her hand into her pocket and held out to him the calf-money bag. “You might need something along the way,” she said.

The coins jangled as she passed them over.

“But this is yours. You’ll need it. You earned it.”

“No,” she said. “I didn’t earn it. It come from selling the calf. I was only going to bury it—till it was needed.”

“Will you think of it as a loan, then?” he asked. “When I get established, I’ll send it to you care of the Stevenses. With interest, if I can.”

“There’s no hurry. Wait till your family comes. I don’t know when my brother and I can ever get back.” She felt leaden with sadness. She pushed the stool to the window and climbed up. He held the window open as she climbed out. Someone—Luke perhaps—had left the short ladder in place.

“I can never thank you, my friend,” Ezekial said.

“It was half Stevenses’ calf by rights,” she said, trying to diminish for both of them the enormity of what she had done. “It was their bull.”