I take a deep breath and slow down. “Truth is, I wanted to go west. My daddy was a gold miner. I grew up knowing everything about gold. So did Jeff. He was the only person I trusted, and he was going to California. I needed to leave town, quick and quiet. My uncle was—is—looking for me, you see. And then I got robbed—my daddy’s Hawken rifle, almost all my money . . .”

“No wonder you chose a disguise,” Lucie says.

“I didn’t mean to become a liar.” Tears well up in my eyes.

Therese’s hands tying the ribbons of my drawers have stilled. “I would have been so scared,” she says.

I consider pretending to be brave for all of two seconds, but I’m done lying. “I was afraid the whole time. Afraid I was going to be found out, afraid of the men who robbed me, afraid that I was going to be alone forever. And then once I started pretending, I was scared to let . . .”

My teeth are suddenly chattering. I cross my arms around my waist and squeeze, like something terrible will come out if I let go.

Lucie puts an arm around me. I lean my head on her shoulder, and I feel such a pang for Mama it’s hard to breathe.

She squeezes me tight. “Is Lee your real name?”

I nod against her shoulder. “Well, it’s Leah. Leah Westfall. But everyone always called me Lee.”

“Then I will call you Lee. But if you want to change it, all you have to do is say so.”

I look up at her, confused. “What else would it be?”

Therese sighs dreamily. “I’ve always liked the name Anneliese. If I could change my name, I’d be Anneliese.”

“Who do you want to be, Lee?” Lucie says.

It sounds like something Jasper said to me. I didn’t understand then, and I don’t understand now. “What do you mean?”

“We’ll get you some clean trousers, if you want. And when you leave this wagon, everyone here will go on looking the other way. What you do when you get to California is your business.”

“Oh, the Missouri men will not look the other way,” Therese says. “Trust me on that.”

“But they’ll behave,” Lucie says.

Therese and I exchange a look.

“That’s very optimistic, ma’am,” I say. “Also, I can’t imagine Mr. Joyner—”

“Mr. Joyner has no business judging anyone,” Lucie snaps.

I recoil, startled at her burst of anger. “Why do you say that?”

“That man, he was hiding in his wagon for weeks because he had la rougeole. Can you believe?”

I blink. “Wait. He had the measles?”

Therese rolls her eyes. “He says he was hiding so no one else would catch it.”

“Such a spirit of kindness,” Lucie says dryly.