Dani carried Beau Morgan’s laundry through the kitchen and out to the back porch. Where did Patrick keep the washtub? In the barn? In the shed by the door? She’d have to ask Emma.

      Why, Lord? I don’t understand.

      Hardly breathing, she dropped the garments in a heap and went back into the kitchen. For a thousand miles she’d dreamed of seeing this house for the first time. She’d imagined cooking at the stove, a new model with a fancy baking chamber. Patrick had described it in his letters. He’d written to her about everything…the view from the window above the sink, the number of shelves in the pantry. He’d been excited to share his life. Almost believing she’d see him, Dani looked out the window and saw the cottonwood he’d described in his letters. Just as he’d said, the branches curved up to the sky like open arms. Beyond it she saw a hill crowned by a white picket fence encasing two white crosses. It marked Patrick’s final resting place and Beth’s, too.

      Dani choked back tears. Tonight she’d weep and find comfort in the Psalms, but right now she had children in her care. Wiping her eyes, she prayed for peace. When her thoughts spiraled into a black abyss, she reached for verses she’d memorized as a child in Sunday School.

      Blessed is the man whose strength is in Thee; in whose heart are the ways of them. The ways of God…

      Who passing through the Valley of Baca… the valley of tears.

      Make it a well. A source of blessing.

      The rain also filleth the pools. God in heaven adds his grace.

      They… those who walk with God.

      Go from strength to strength. Amen.

      Dani tried to breathe evenly, but the air in the kitchen felt as heavy as sand. Her chest ached with the effort of sucking it in. God had promised strength, yet she’d never felt weaker in her life.

      “Dani?”

      She opened her eyes and saw Emma in the doorway with her sisters. The girls had braided their hair and put on fresh pinafores, but grief had dulled their eyes to pewter. Dani thought of the gifts in her trunk. She’d brought gingham for new Sunday-best dresses, books for Emma and Ellie, and a doll for Esther. Seeing their tearstained cheeks, she decided to save the gifts for a happier time.

      “Are you ready to go?” she asked.

      Emma looked over her shoulder, then urged her sisters deeper into the kitchen. A wall hid them from the front window and she leaned closer to Dani. “We don’t like him,” she whispered.

      Dani’s skin prickled. If Beau Morgan had been unkind to these girls, she’d chase him away with a frying pan. “Has he mistreated you?”

      “No, but he stays up all night.”

      On occasion, so did Dani. “What else?”

      Ellie’s eyes widened. “He said a bad word.”

      Dani wouldn’t condemn a man for cussing. Her father had let loose on occasion and colorfully at that. “It’s wrong, but men do it sometimes.”

      Emma’s voice shook. “I don’t care about cussing. It’s the guns that scare me.”

      “Guns?”

      “He has four of them. Two rifles and two pistols.”

      Guns themselves weren’t evil, but the men who used them sometimes did evil things. Dani forced herself to stay calm.

      “What exactly does he do?”

      “He sits alone and fires the pistol,” Emma whispered.

      “He fires it?”

      “Not exactly,” the girl explained. “The gun’s empty but I can hear it click. He does it over and over, like he’s aiming at someone he can’t see.”

      That settled it. The man was crazy. He was either wanted by the law or protecting them from a danger he’d brought to Castle Rock himself.

      The front door swung open. Heavy boots thudded on the wooden floor. “Ladies?”

      Dani whispered into Emma’s ear. “We’ll talk later.”

      As she stood straight, Beau Morgan stepped into the kitchen and crossed his arms as though he meant business. A tan duster hung from his shoulders but gaped at the waist, revealing a wide leather belt and the front edge of a cross-draw holster. He pulled his mouth into a smile that bordered on a sneer. “Pray tell, ladies. My ears are burning. I don’t suppose you were talking about me?”

      “No, sir.”

      Emma had lied, but Dani didn’t correct her. She wanted to hide the girls under her skirts. No way could they share their home with a man who armed himself for a trip to town. She’d spotted the church from the window of the train. She’d never met Pastor Blue and his wife, but Patrick had said they were kind. Surely the couple would take them in until Dani could find safer accommodations.

      “Let’s go,” she said with false cheer.

      Mr. Morgan led the way out the door, grabbing the hat he’d left on a peg in the entry hall. As he pulled it low, the girls followed him down the steps with Dani bringing up the rear. In the front yard she saw the livery buggy and the family wagon. He was standing by the buggy, watching them like a coyote spying a flock of chickens.

      He pointed his chin at the wagon. “The girls can ride in the back.”

      Dani steered them to the buggy. “I think we can fit. Don’t you, girls?” The rig had a single seat. It would be a squeeze.

      Mr. Morgan shrugged. “Suit yourselves.”

      When she bent to lift Esther, he reached for the child at the same time. Their hands overlapped on the girl’s waist with Dani losing the race.

      His eyes narrowed. “Let me. She’s heavy.”

      “I can manage.”

      Esther grabbed for Dani, but Mr. Morgan scooped her up and plopped her on the seat before she knew enough to cry. Scowling, he offered his gloved hand to Ellie, then Emma, and finally to her. Looking at the leather, Dani wondered what it hid. Some people thought a man’s eyes revealed his soul. Dani looked at hands. Calluses testified to hard work. Soft skin hinted at laziness or vice. If Mr. Morgan removed the gloves, what would she see? The trim nails of a gambler? The knuckles of a brawler?

      His eyes glinted. “I won’t bite, Miss Baxter.”

      Satan had said the same thing to Eve. Ignoring his hand, she climbed into the buggy.

      He went to the wagon. “Stay in front of me.”

      She took the reins and drove out of the yard with Ellie pressed against her ribs and Esther in Emma’s lap. The top of the buggy shielded them from Mr. Morgan’s stare, but the creak of the wagon kept him close.

      Ellie squirmed closer to Dani. “He’s nothing like Pa.”

      Emma stared straight ahead. “Pa’s gone. We have to get used to it.”

      “I don’t want to!” Ellie cried.

      “There’s no choice.” Emma tightened her grip on Esther’s waist. “I’m the oldest. That means I have to look out for you.”

      Dani’s heart broke for the girl. She knew how it felt to grow up overnight. They rode in silence, listening to the rhythm of Esther sucking her thumb and the creak of the harness. Behind them, Beau Morgan clicked to the horses, crowding the buggy in spite of the empty road. Dani wondered if he’d watch them this closely in town. The closer he rode, the more determined she became to escape. But how? She needed a plan. “Do you know where Mr. Morgan’s going?” she said to Emma.

      “Probably