The church was being built on Second Street, two blocks beyond the schoolhouse. Walking with Bess past the school in the hot sunshine, Hanna was surprised by how small the schoolhouse looked. She had been a student there only a week earlier, but it felt like years ago.

When they reached the building site, Mr. Harris was up a ladder, nailing rafters. He spotted the girls and waved.

Charlie Hart was there too, framing a window. “Hullo, graduates!” he called out.

Hanna and Bess smiled—at him, and at each other. They stood waiting in the narrow stripes of shade formed by the wall studding. A few moments later, Mr. Harris climbed down the ladder and took off his apron. After a long drink of water from a jug half buried in the grass, he wet his kerchief and wiped his face and hands.

“All right,” he said. “I think I’m just about presentable now, and if I’m not, you’ll have to pretend and pardon. Bess, would you fetch that jug and my apron to the wagon? I need a minute with your friend here.”

“Yes, Pa,” Bess replied as Hanna’s heart did a one-step jig of happiness. Your friend, he had said.

Mr. Harris walked with Hanna several paces away from the skeleton church. “Don’t worry, Hanna—you’re not in any kind of trouble,” he began.

She was relieved. She couldn’t think of anything she had done wrong, but there was something about being around the law that made a person feel guilty.

“I just need to ask you a few questions about what happened on Monday.”

Monday?

Mr. Harris continued, “Your father told me that you’d seen some Indians outside their lands.”

This was about Wichapiwin! How could she have forgotten?

Papa told him—even after I begged him not to. Papa, how could you?

I could lie. I could say I never saw them.

He’s the law. I have to tell him the truth.

But what if the laws are unfair? Didn’t the colonists disobey King George’s laws because they were unfair?

Hanna almost missed what Mr. Harris said next. “. . . what you saw, and we’ll go from there.”

She swallowed hard, and her answer was a long time in coming. “I’d rather not say.”

She saw his blue eyes widen in surprise. “Well, now. Can’t say as I expected that.”

He didn’t sound angry, just puzzled, which gave her the courage to speak further. “Mr. Harris? I—I wouldn’t lie to you. But do I—do I have to tell you what I saw?”

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice gentle but his words firm. “There’s no courthouse here, but I’m the law, and everyone has to answer to the law.” A pause. “If you don’t, that’s called contempt, and it’s within my rights to arrest anyone for contempt.”