My pulse hammers in my throat. Could I do it? I’m strong. I can shoot better than any man in Dahlonega. Maybe if I cut my hair. Wrap my chest tight. It will take a day or two to alter some of Daddy’s clothes to fit me. I have handsome eyes, sure, but some boys do. I’ll just keep Daddy’s hat brim pulled low. When I find Jefferson, I’ll ask him to say I’m his little brother, even though we don’t look a thing alike.

Annabelle Smith would be scandalized to hear what I’m thinking now. But it’s my best shot; I know it is. Once I run off, Hiram will be searching for a girl. And if I look like a boy, no one will think twice about me riding astride or bringing down a deer. I won’t have to be neat and proper all the time. I could travel alone, and no one would pay me any mind.

Even as a boy, I could sure use some money. My hand goes to the locket at my chest. No, not that. But Mama has a nice bracelet. Hiram won’t notice if a few of the chickens go missing.

My chickens. Who will take care of them?

It hits me like I’ve been mule-kicked: I’m leaving home. Once I’m gone, never again will I wake to sun shining through my dormer window. I’ll never again bake a cobbler with peaches picked fresh from my very own orchard. My parents will never get proper headstones.

I’ll just have to make sure it’s all worth it. Find a new way for myself. Maybe California is a place where a woman can have her own land, her own life.

I’ll wait for you in Independence.

I’m coming, Jeff.

Chapter Seven

I’ve spent the last two days being agreeable to my uncle. Not friendly, mind you. Just blankly pleasant enough not to arouse suspicion. I made him breakfast both mornings, helped him take off his boots each night, and let him sleep in my parents’ bed without batting an eye. I’ve also been altering some of Daddy’s clothes to fit me, and I’m exhausted from staying awake so late, peering at blurry stiches by the light of a single candle.

It’s the third morning after the funeral. I’m leaving today. I still don’t have any money, but I’ve scrounged up a few things to sell. I’m trying to decide whether to sell them to Free Jim’s store or head out of town first.

Uncle Hiram sits across from me, eating the breakfast I made. He’s mopping up egg yolk with a biscuit when he raises his head and says, “I’m sending you to finishing school in the spring.”