“Nah, she’s not scared of me—we’ve met before,” Swenson replied. “It’s you she’s scared of. Come here, girly, nobody’s gonna hurt you. S’long as you don’t put up a fight.” He guffawed, then placed a hand on her shoulder near her neck.

She jerked as if his touch burned her. He pulled her toward him, tightening his grip until she could feel his nails clawing into her skin. Everything went blurry. She stiffened her whole body, determined not to faint.

When her vision cleared a second later, she found herself staring at Swenson’s collar, which was so worn that its edges had frayed. And the top button was missing.

Mama always said that a shirt missing a button is as bad as a clock without one of its hands.

“I CAN FIX THAT,” she said loudly.

Both men blinked in astonishment, although neither could possibly have been more surprised than Hanna herself.

“You’re missing a button,” she went on hurriedly. “If you’ll give me your shirt, I’ll take it to our shop and sew on a button—it won’t take me but a minute.”

As Swenson looked down at his shirtfront, she felt his hand loosen. His expression was so befuddled that she might have laughed if she hadn’t been desperate to get away. She spun on her heel and took off toward the hotel.

“Hey!” Conners shouted. She heard the thump of boots on the board sidewalk behind her. Up ahead, she could see the door of the hotel—she was almost there, just a little farther—

The door opened, and Mrs. Blake stepped outside. Hanna had to veer sharply to avoid running into her. Conners and Swenson, too drunk to react quickly, bumped into each other and somehow ended up sprawled on the sidewalk.

“MR. SWENSON!” Mrs. Blake thundered. “I’ll not warn you again! You stay away from my hotel, you and your no-good, drink-sodden, feckless friends! This establishment is for nice people! I’ll call the law on you, I will!”

A few folks came out of the hotel to witness the commotion; another few on the street stopped to stare. Mrs. Blake turned to Hanna. She was a solidly built woman with brown hair piled high on her head, and severe eyebrows that looked very dark against her pale skin. Especially when she was scowling.

“Was it you who caused this ruckus?” she demanded.

So unfair! Hanna felt her eyes instantly grow warm with tears. She blinked rapidly, then opened her mouth to protest. But she was too shaken to defend herself.

“No, ma’am,” she said. “I was—I’ll be leaving now.” She was startled to realize that she was still clutching the stack of lard cans.