Sitting there, at Big John’s table, beside Big John’s fire, Evangeline considered her situation. She was almost penniless, and quite at the mercy of a man she had yet to meet face to face, and it would have been a plain lie to say she wasn’t afraid, but she still didn’t regret leaving the East.

She took a fresh page from her stationery box and began another letter right away. Although she included Jacob in her salutation, the missive was mostly directed at June-bug. Evangeline liked the other woman, though she might expect to see her only a few times a year, and hoped to strike up a friendship.

When she was finished, Evangeline sealed the second letter, left the table, and undressed by the light of the fire burning low on the hearth. Feeling safer than she had the night before, and somehow warmer, she shed her underthings, too, and wore only the nightgown. She had brushed out her hair, and was winding it into a long braid, when she heard a sound from the lean-to.

The clearing of a throat.

“Ma’am? Are you decent?”

Evangeline would’ve laughed at the question, if she hadn’t been mortified by the possibility that Scully might have come out of his room for some reason and caught a glimpse of her, changing clothes by the fire.

She retreated a step, into the partial shelter of the shadows. “What is it?” she asked, in a small voice.

He stepped into her line of vision, and she could see, to her relief, that he was still fully dressed, though his features were hidden. She’d put out the lamp, after finishing the McCaffreys’ letter. “I don’t mean to trouble you,” he said hoarsely. He crossed the plank floor, making an obvious effort to keep his distance, not wishing to frighten her, and took his coat down from its peg. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Evangeline laid a hand to her heart and nodded. What was it about this man that turned her from her normal, sensible self into this strange and shy person she didn’t recognize?

She stood rigidly by the fire, hearing every sound from the surrounding timber and the night sky, waiting. Waiting until Scully finally returned, shivering, and bolted the door. After hanging up his coat, he moved across the room again, toward the entrance of the lean-to.

“I’ll be starting out early tomorrow morning,” he told her. “For Springwater, I mean. You’ll explain to Abigail?”

She nodded, gestured toward the invisible table. “I’ve left my letters there, and some coins for the postage.”

“You’re certain you can manage that rifle?”

“Yes,” she answered, though she wasn’t at all sure. She would do whatever she had to, to protect herself and Abigail. It was enough to know that.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Again, she nodded. If she spoke, she might find herself begging him to stay, and that must not be allowed to happen on any account.