But already she could see what Papa had meant when he called Mr. Harris a fair man. Mr. Harris had answered her as if she were anyone else, keeping his surprise silent. That was far more than most people managed. Some busted out with something rude or hurtful or even hateful. Most others spoke to Papa as if she weren’t there.

Papa and Mr. Harris chatted for a few more minutes. Hanna learned that the Harrises had a son named James who had moved to Oregon the previous fall.

“I wanted to go too,” Mr. Harris said. “But I’d promised Sarah Lynn that this would be our last move. So we stayed, and James went on with my brother’s family.”

“Heard it’s pretty country out there,” Papa said.

“Not settled up yet, though, and Sarah Lynn wanted the girls to go to school. Speaking of school . . .” He looked at Hanna, then back at Papa. “I’ve been thinking on this. Edmunds, you’re already contributing to the local economy, and you don’t seem like the type to skip out on your tax bill.”

Papa grinned. “That’ll depend on how big it is,” he said, and the men laughed together. Hanna smiled, silently wishing they would get on with the conversation.

Then Mr. Harris grew serious. “The way I see it, any child under the age of twenty-one resident in the town of LaForge has the right to attend school here. I’ll tell Miss Walters to expect a new student on Monday.” Pause. “Thing is, we don’t want any . . . trouble. The school needs to run smoothly, and if anything gets in the way of that, Miss Walters will be the one making the decisions.”

“That’s fair enough,” Papa said.

No, Hanna thought at once. It’s not fair. Even if I do everything right, I’ve got no say over what the other students might do.

“Any questions?” Mr. Harris asked.

She looked down at her hands in her lap for a long moment, then raised her head. “I haven’t been lucky enough to go to school before, Mr. Harris,” she said, “so I’m sorry I don’t know this already. Are students allowed to keep their hats on in the schoolroom?”

4

THE SCHOOLHOUSE STOOD BY ITSELF in an empty stretch of prairie, the only building on Second Street west of Main. From afar, it looked as if it were barely afloat on the expanse of rolling grassland. As Hanna drew nearer, she could see the lean-to tacked to the north wall, a miniature of the structure itself, its peaked roof copying the angle of the main roof.

Hanna hesitated at the schoolhouse door, her head lowered. She stared at the weave of her blue cambric dress. The fabric was sturdy, made for everyday, but she had added rows of featherstitching to the cuffs and hem. Not showy, but not plain, either.