“You don’t want to open that wound up again,” he warned. “Them Mexicans could kill you even yet, and not even be here.”

With the constant threat of soldiers lifted from him, James began making plans for the farm. His brothers had broken out a small field for him and a garden for Annie. It was too late in the season to plant any more crops this year, other than some vegetables for the cabin, but he stepped off and staked additional acreage which he would break out next winter and have ready for spring’s planting season. He went out into the woods and cut posts and rails, dragging them up to start a fence around the field to keep the cattle from straying into it. There was much to do and not enough daylight hours for all he wanted to accomplish. He kept remembering Marcus Caldwell’s farm, with its neatly kept rail fences, its well-tended fields, its long log house.

Give me a few years and I’ll have this place looking just as good as that one, he told himself whenever his back began to ache and his eyes burned from the sweat rolling into them.

One afternoon about a week after his arrival, he cut his hand while sharpening his hoe. The cut was deep enough and bled enough that he decided he had better go to the cabin and treat it, lest it become infected and put an end to his work for a while. He walked into the room he shared with Shipman, then stopped in midstride.

Annie sat on the edge of a cot, leaning over Shipman. He had one arm around her waist, the other resting on her leg, her long cotton skirt pulled up above her knee. The front buttons of her dress were undone, and she had both hands on Shipman’s cheeks, pressing his head to her bosom. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them wide as she heard James declare, “Damn!” She gave a little shriek and sat up straight, pulling the top of the dress around to cover herself.

Shipman said sharply, “Damnit, James, can’t you make a little noise?”

“Maybe it’s time I did. Maybe I ought to throw you out of this place right now.” He moved toward the cot, his fists clenched. “After we took you in, you go and take advantage of my sister—”

Annie stepped in front of him, buttoning her dress. Her face was flushed. He did not know if it was from arousal or embarrassment. “Before you go tryin’ to throw anybody out, you just listen a minute. He wasn’t takin’ any advantage of me. I had as much to do with it as he did. Maybe more.”

“You mean you wanted that—whatever you were doin’?”

“Yes, and we might not’ve stopped there either, if you hadn’t come bustin’ in here like a bull in a china closet. We’re grown people. What we choose to do is none of your business.”

“But you’re my sister.”