I giggle, glancing Mrs. Joyner’s way to make sure she didn’t overhear. “I bet you’re right.” I grab a table napkin from the clothesline and shake it out. If I fold it now, while it’s still sun-warmed, Mrs. Joyner might not insist it be pressed. “But will you teach me to knit later?” I ask. “When we get to California?”

Therese smiles. “Of course.”

Someone clears his throat, and I turn to find Reverend Lowery bearing down on us.

“Miss McCollin,” he says, not even knowing my name. “If I could have a private word with you?”

Therese’s eyebrows rise. She turns away quickly, but not before I notice how hard she is trying not to laugh. I stare at her back, puzzled.

“Go on, Lee,” Mrs. Joyner calls from her place by the cook fire. Her tone is smug. Like she knows something I don’t.

“All right,” I say to the preacher. “But let’s be quick about it. I’ve got work to do.”

We step away from the wagons as the sun is dipping below the horizon. The damp summer breeze has a bite of sulfur, thanks to the hot springs. We’re nearly to the river before we stop. Reverend Lowrey stands quietly a moment in his best black suit, like a crow. He clutches his Bible in one hand.

“Leah,” he says, eyes lowered. “Today’s admonitions from General Loring brought to mind my own serious neglect of duty, and I wanted to apologize to you.”

“Huh?”

“Long have I indulged in grief at the loss of Mrs. Lowrey, and thus failed to see God’s plan and purpose. I deeply regret the hurt I’ve done you, in your condition.”

I recoil a step, even though I have no idea what he means. “What exactly is my condition?”

His gaze is earnest. “That of a young woman, alone in the world, with no man for protection.”

“I’ve done a fair job of protecting myself.”

He waves his hand like a teacher erasing a chalkboard. “Everyone knows how diligently you toil. You are, in fact, an exemplary worker, and when you apply those exertions to duties more befitting your gender, to housekeeping and raising children, you’ll make a fine wife.”

“I guess.”

“What I’m trying to say is, I see our Father’s hand at work. You, all alone in the world—”

“I’m not alone.” I didn’t realize it until this very moment, but it’s true. “I’ve got Jefferson, and Jasper and Tom and Henry. I’ve got Widow Joyner and her children. The Robichauds and the Hoffmans. I am”—a touch of wonder fills my voice—“blessed with friends.”