“Lee is going to help the Joyners wrangle their gear.” Jefferson straightens in his saddle. A sweep of his arm encompasses all the wagons. “I’m supposed to show her—”

I glare at him, but he’s already caught himself.

“Er, I’m supposed to show him the wagons and the camp, describe the work, and . . .”

Jefferson has always been a terrible liar.

“Better get back to it,” I say. “Be seeing you around, miss.”

“Be seeing you around,” she says, mimicking the cadence of my phrase perfectly. To Jefferson, she says, “Come by after dinner; I’ll save some.”

“Sure,” he says, grinning. His eyes follow Therese as she rounds up her siblings and herds them toward the back of the wagon.

“So that’s the family you followed west,” I say, wondering if Therese’s dinner invitation included me. Probably not.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Lee.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you’re someone you’re not.”

“What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Jefferson Kingfisher?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s no different at all. Those of us going west aren’t just seeking fortunes, you know. It’s a chance to start over. Be whoever we want to be.”

He grins.

“What?”

“I’ve missed y— your opining.”

“You’ve got to keep my secret, Jeff. All the way to California. If you don’t, they’ll leave me behind, or make me go back. And I can’t go back. I’ve got nobody to go back to, unless you count the uncle who killed my folks and took over my whole life.”

The grin disappears.

“Hiram said he had a plan for me. I have no idea what he meant, but I’m sure it was nothing good. Jefferson, you’re the only person left who I trust. You have to keep my secret. You have to.”

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

I exhale relief. “Thank you. You can start by helping me cut my hair. It’s getting too long.”

“Keeping your hair short isn’t going to make you look like a boy. At least not to me.”

“Please?”

He scowls. “If you say so.”

The scent of beans boiling in molasses tickles my nose, makes me realize how hungry I am.

“Here, I’ll show you the rest,” he says. “That’s the Joyners’ wagon—”

“I know them well enough.” For better or worse. “We came west on the same flatboat.”

“None of the other companies wanted them. They’re hauling too much. Major Craven keeps telling them to leave something behind, like that dining table.”

“But Mrs. Joyner won’t hear of it.”

“Indeed she won’t. Believe it or not, she hauls out that table and sets it with a checked cloth every single night. It’s like she thinks she’s still in Chattanooga.”

“You don’t say.”