He frowns. “That barn is the cleanest I ever saw.”

“Because I don’t shirk my daily chores.”

We stare at each other, our chins set equally hard, and the thought niggles like a worm in my belly: Maybe we are alike. Maybe just a little.

Finally, he says, “You’re too valuable to waste on farmwork, Leah. I know what you can do. And I intend you to keep on doing it.”

I do a stink-poor job of keeping the shock off my face. Daddy told him. Hiram knows about me. My knees turn as wobbly as pudding. I need to get away to the barn fast, before I fall apart completely.

“But when my boy gets here, I’ll start making a lady out of you. I know Reuben and Elizabeth let you run wild as a colt, but no longer.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I care about you, Leah Westfall. More than you know. I’ll make sure you have the best of everything. The best gowns, the best grooming, the best—”

I walk out and slam the door behind me.

Uncle Hiram tricked my daddy, for sure and certain. He drew up the will, and Daddy signed without question. Hiram was the one person Daddy had trusted and loved enough that he let his guard down.

Trust someone, Mama said. Her dying words, burned into my heart. But she was wrong. When there’s gold to be had, you can’t trust anyone. Not a single soul.

Snow has started to pile up against the barn, and I scoop some of it out of the way so I can swing open one of the barn doors. It’s not until I’m wiping snow from my hand on to my skirt that I realize I’m still wearing my brand-new dress.

Peony greets me with a snort and a head toss. I shove the locket under my collar so she doesn’t accidentally break it, then I slip into her stall and put my arms around her neck. Finally, I let the tears flow.

“You want to go west with me, girl?” I whisper into her mane.

My shoulders relax and my jaw unclenches as she snuffles at my hair and neck. We lived in the barn for two years before Daddy built our house. The animals come first, Daddy always said. They’re our lives and livelihood. I don’t really remember that time—I was too little—but I’ve always felt at home here with Peony. Always felt safe.

Our wagon sits braked in the center of the barn. On each side are four stalls containing Peony and the rest of the team, two milk cows, and now Uncle Hiram’s black gelding. Tack hangs on wooden pegs at the opening to each stall. Hay is stacked against the back wall and in the loft—not enough for winter, not with Hiram’s horse here.