“That pass system,” he said at last. “As far as I know, its intent is to keep Indians from congregating for the purposes of war or raiding. In my judgment, a group of women and girls harvesting prairie turnip doesn’t constitute a threat to LaForge. I don’t see any need to send a report to Yankton.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Hanna exhaled, only then aware that she had been holding her breath.

22

THE MATTER WOULD SEEM to be finished with no harm done, but Hanna was still furious. Granted, Papa had never said that he wouldn’t tell Mr. Harris. But she was angry about more than the fact that he had disregarded her plea. Hanna decided that she had to speak up—even if he wouldn’t listen.

She waited until he had nearly finished supper.

“I talked to Mr. Harris today,” she said, “at the church site.”

“I know,” he said. “He told me that he would need to speak to you, seeing as you were the one who met those Indians.”

“I asked you not to tell him.”

His forehead creased and reddened. “You think you know better than I do? You were asking me to break the law.”

She was ready for him, determined to make up for her cowardice with Mr. Harris. “Papa, do you consider Miss Lorna a good Christian?”

“What in tarnation—what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about when you and Mama got married.”

She had first heard the story when she was about nine years old. Back then, they had spent most evenings gathered around Mama’s bed: Mama, well wrapped in the plaid shawl no matter what the season, Hanna on one side in the rocking chair, Papa in the armchair on the other. Hanna had asked Mama how she and Papa got married.

Mama started to speak but lost her breath. She nodded at Papa to take over.

“I went and spoke to Miss Lorna,” he said. “She was as close to family as your mama had. And by then I’d been taking supper at her place for more than a year, so she was almost like family to me, too. I asked her if she thought it would be all right for me to marry your mama.”

“What did she say?” Hanna asked.

“She said no. Absolutely not. She said, ‘Mr. Edmunds, you know it’s against the law.’”

Hanna’s mouth fell open in dismay. “Against the law?”

“Yes. Illegal, for a white person to marry someone Chinese.”

Hanna bit her lip, chilled by a nameless fear. She didn’t yet understand the depths of dread possible when unfairness was sanctioned by the law.

Mama reached out from the bed to touch her arm. Hanna saw that Mama’s eyes were bright; she was telling Hanna without words not to worry, that this was not a sad story. At once Hanna felt better. “You knew that already, didn’t you, Papa?”