The thrill was only momentary.

Although she and Papa had never spoken of it, she had gradually come to realize what leaving California had meant for her future. In the Chinatowns of Los Angeles and San Francisco, there were so many men and so few women that she might have been able to marry a Chinese man, despite being half-white.

But the farther east they traveled, the fewer Asians they had seen, and here in the eastern half of Dakota Territory, there didn’t seem to be any at all. Besides which, every territory that had become a state in recent years had made it illegal for whites and nonwhites to marry.

So Hanna was quietly making plans for a future that would see her dependent on no one except herself. Graduation. Then a shop as a seamstress, first with Papa, and someday on her own.

She shook her head as if to shed the image of Sam’s friendly face. No room in those plans for daydreaming about a white boy, no matter how kind.

Once home, she hurried up the stairs and got ready for bed. Papa had installed a board wall in the attic of the rented house, dividing it into two rooms; her half was at the back of the house. She was sliding under the quilt when she heard him come in.

Moments later his tread sounded on the stairs. He climbed halfway and stopped.

“Hanna,” he said, his voice low.

She clutched the edge of the quilt. She couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell what his tone of voice meant.

“Yes, Papa? I—I’m not asleep yet.” How ridiculous. If she was answering him, of course she wasn’t asleep.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” he said. “But if you’re going to disobey me, you’ll have to learn to cover your tracks better. You left the door unlatched.”

That was all. Before she could reply, he went back down the stairs.

Hanna drew in a deep breath. She smiled as she turned on her side and curled up a little.

Papa could still surprise her sometimes.

The next morning, Hanna knew what Papa would say before he said it.

“I don’t know, Hanna. People are already riled—I don’t like the smell of it.”

She paused before she spoke. “Mr. Harris said I could attend school until he hears back from Washington on what the law is.”

No answer.

Yesterday afternoon had given her a tantalizing glimpse of school at its best. If she could have lessons like that for the rest of the term, she could graduate as Mama had wanted.

There was another reason, though—a more important one.

The world was so often unfair, and she couldn’t do a single thing about most of that unfairness. But she had learned from Mama to fight it where she could, and that meant right here in LaForge.