He writes down the total on a piece of a paper. “I’ll need your signature on this bill of sale,” he says. “For when Hiram Westfall comes asking after his horses.”

The bill of sale does not mention the shirts. I sign my name.

Jim counts out a huge handful of eagles and half eagles. One hundred and seventy dollars total, which he bundles up inside four long-sleeved, linsey-woolsey shirts in such a way that they don’t jangle even a little bit. The final ten dollars he breaks into smaller coins and hands to me.

I’m pocketing the coins when he says, “Best of luck, Leah Westfall. Lord willing, I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

My gaze snaps to his. He winks at me.

Free Jim is planning to go west too. I smile, and it feels like my first genuine smile at a fellow human being in days. “I surely hope so, Mr. Boisclair.” I have at least one friend besides Jefferson, and that’s no small thing.

Chestnut and Hemlock were never my favorite horses. Still, I can’t bear to say good-bye. On a promise from Free Jim that he’ll have them tended right away, I leave them behind the store and circle around the crowd on foot. As soon as I’m out of sight of the town proper, I hitch my bundle of boughten shirts and hidden coins under one arm, pick up my skirts with my free hand, and run as fast as I can. It’s three miles till home, and I run the whole way.

Once inside the barn, I pull the doors shut and lean against them to catch my breath. My uncle said he had errands, but I don’t know exactly what that means or how long he’ll be gone.

I race up the ladder to the hayloft and shove a bale aside to reveal my stash of clothing and supplies. My fingers are clumsy on the buttons of my dress, and I force myself to slow down. Good thing I’m wearing my old day dress, which buttons down the front.

I shrug the dress to the ground and unlace my corset. I fold them up and stuff them inside one of the saddlebags. Shivering, I wrap Mama’s old cotton shawl around my chest as tight as I can and tuck in the edges. It doesn’t feel very secure, but it does flatten what little there is. Hopefully, I’ll get better with practice. Hopefully, my chest won’t grow any larger.

I pull on the trousers and shirt I altered, then shrug the suspenders over my shoulders. Daddy’s boots feel way too large on my feet. I’ve tended the garden and mucked stalls in them, even hunted a little, but walking and riding all day long will be a different matter. I’ll just have to make do.