Topper’s voice drifts toward me. “That looks like Lucky Westfall’s mare, is all I’m saying. Hiram said he’d sell her to me.”

“Topper, you’re too drunk to know a mare from a mosquito.”

“Not that drunk. What’s she doing out here? I’m telling you . . .”

Abel Topper’s voice fades with distance, but I feel his eyes boring holes into my back, and I don’t know what to do about it except to keep us walking. We pass the stable, the church, the store, and a few more small houses. Once we’re out of sight, I kick Peony into a run, urging her to go faster and then faster still.

After a minute or two, Peony pulls up in protest, and I let her. I dismount and wrap my trembling arms around her sweaty neck. “That man won’t take you,” I choke out. “You’re not going back to Uncle Hiram. No matter what.”

The most dangerous part of the journey is close to home.

The woods hemming the road are dense and black, and I lead Peony into the cold thick of it. She needs time to walk off her sprint, so I don’t stop until we find a stream with a trickle of water; nighttime makes it look like an inky scar slashing through the ground. I work mostly by feel, feeding Peony what little oats I’ve got in my pack, rubbing her down, checking her over. Galloping her was a stupid and dangerous thing to do in the dark; we’re lucky she didn’t injure herself.

I take my time, making sure to brush away every speck of that stupid mud. When she bumps her head against me, I know she’s finally forgiven me for this terrible day and is ready to rest. I shiver with cold as I hobble her beneath the trees.

Good thing Daddy made me learn how to start a fire in the dark. I scrape a small hole in the ground, rooting around for dry wood as I go, then I pull out my tinderbox and coax up a fire. I hunker over the flames until I stop shivering.

There’s nothing to eat except the trail food in my saddlebag, but I don’t want to touch it. What if it has to last? There could be Abel Toppers in all the taverns, general stores, and boardinghouses from here to Independence.

What’s she doing out here? Abel Topper said. He wasn’t expecting to see Peony. Which means my uncle didn’t send him. In fact, Topper probably arrived hours ago. Maybe even yesterday. Long before I left.