An hour had passed, by Evangeline’s estimation, when the peddler returned, bearing a pocketful of fresh eggs, the morning milk and enough water to last the morning. She could have kissed the man, she was so grateful to him for saving her all those trips to the spring, but she served a hearty breakfast instead, frying up eggs, salt pork and potatoes, and toasting thick slices of bread in the oven.

The aromas must have awakened Abigail, along with the knowledge that Mr. Murdoch, of whom she was exceedingly fond, would be leaving soon. She came to the table bundled in a quilt dragged off the bed, and Evangeline, who would not normally have permitted such casual dining, said nothing.

The conversation was lively, mostly concerning the prospects for next year’s cattle market and the incompetence of the territorial government, and Evangeline ate quickly, so that she would have time to write to Jacob and June-bug. Fearing that Mr. Murdoch might read the letter before delivering it, she resisted an urge to outline Scully’s deception regarding their nonexistent marriage, and simply said that they had enjoyed the fudge and were faring well. She would have loved to send a reciprocatory gift in return for the candy, but there was nothing at hand. Perhaps she could use some of the plenitude of yarn Scully had bought to knit scarves for both the McCaffreys, to be carried to Springwater by the next passer-by.

Sunlight was glittering on the snow when Mr. Murdoch hitched up his mule and wagon and departed, beaming as he went and waving a broad hand in fond farewell. Abigail, still swathed in the quilt, rather like a regal little queen in a mantle, trundled back to bed, accompanied by Hortense, and both of them were asleep again within mere moments.

“You are aware, of course,” Evangeline said to Scully, as she had been waiting to say, “that Mr. Murdoch is bound to mention our so-called ‘marriage’ to the McCaffreys? And they’re going to know it’s a lie.”

“Don’t fret about that,” Scully said breezily, helping himself to the last piece of toasted bread. Apparently, he didn’t mind that it was as cold as the cabin floor before the morning fires were lit. “I’ll explain the situation next time I get over to Springwater.”

His unconcern nettled Evangeline in no small way. He wasn’t worried, being a man, but the situation had the makings of a scandal that might ruin her completely, and thus cast shadows over Abigail’s whole future. Whatever her private reservations concerning her forthcoming marriage might be, if Big John became disillusioned and refused to go through with the ceremony when he returned in the spring, she and Abigail would be stranded. The consequences of that did not bear considering.

“You’ll explain?” Evangeline snapped. “It could be months before you can get through to Springwater again, you’ve told me that yourself. A great deal of damage might be done to my reputation in the meantime.”

Scully looked surprised and just a little indignant. “Jacob and Miss June-bug know better than to believe I’d sully a good woman that way—especially one that belongs to my best friend—and so does Big John.”