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more awkward.
    Had he noticed she was taking a survey of his person? Her neck heated, and she lowered her gaze yet still felt his intense scrutiny. Why was he staring at her? Perhaps there was something on her face. Her skin itched by suggestion, and she brushed self-conscious fingers across her cheeks.
    He straightened to his full height. Goodness, he was tall. The tallest man she’d ever seen. He spoke English with a distinctive accent that she couldn’t quite place, shortening words and lilting the end of a sentence. Northern England, perhaps, mixed in with the Scottish. Her grandfather would have been able to pinpoint it.
    Georg Schultz pointed a thumb at Anna. “She says they won’t pay full fare until we reach Philadelphia. Only half fare for now.”
    A frown settled over the man’s features, and he hooked his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets as he studied Anna. “The captain won’t like hearin’ that the passengers cannae pay passage.”
    “I didn’t say we couldn’t . We will pay. You can be assured of that.” She looked down, afraid he’d read the truth in her eyes, more than she was ready to reveal. She felt no such assurance that the Amish would be solvent by the end of the journey, not after how their coffers had been diminished downthe Rhine. But if they ended up in a desperate situation, she felt sure that Jacob Bauer would find a way to provide passage once they reached America.
    He was still staring at her, she suddenly realized, though with a bemused look on his face. “You speak English quite well.”
    Georg Schultz answered for her, folding his pudgy arms over his chest. “The only one of this batch of Peculiars who can speak it.”
    “How did y’learn?”
    “My grandfather. He served in the military in Switzerland.”
    “A man of yer . . . people . . . knew both plow and sword?”
    She knew he had barely stopped himself from saying the word Peculiar. She’d heard the dockworkers mutter the disparagement. “My grandfather had no choice but to serve. And he was clever at learning languages.”
    “And taught them to his family.”
    “Yes.” Anna’s grandfather was convinced that their people must be wise to the ways of the world, wise as serpents and innocent as doves, especially in the skill of communication. No one in Ixheim shared his conviction, but he was adamant that his granddaughter would speak, read, and write English, German, French.
    “Then what is yer reasonin’ to only pay half fare?”
    “We want to be sure we will be treated well. Good food and clean water.”
    The man gave her a skeptical glance. “Lassie, if yer people cannae pay passage, the ship ’twill become a market. Buyers in Port Philadelphia will find out how much each person owes. Those who cannae pay their debts are called ‘redemptioners.’ They haggle with the buyers fer so many years labor t’pay offthe debt. The redemptioner belongs to the buyer until that debt is paid off. Belongs , like a slave. It happens. Quite a lot. To men, women. To children too.”
    The muscles in Anna’s midsection tensed. She bit her lip. Her expression must have registered the sting of his words, for he softened.
    “Even if a person doesn’t survive the journey, the passage will be owed. ’Tis unfortunate, but it happens more often than y’might imagine.”
    Their eyes met, locked, held. His gaze was like granite. “I understand.”
    “Yer basket,” he said. “It should go down in the hold. To save room. You’ll want every spare inch down in the lower deck.”
    “No,” Anna said.
    “All nonessentials belong in the hold.” He bent over to take the basket, but Anna’s grip on it tightened.
    “No,” Anna repeated. “This basket is essential.” She stared at his calloused hand that covered hers, refusing to let go, then peered up at the man, so incredibly tall, it put a crick in her neck. Up close he was larger than life and even more intimidating. For a moment she couldn’t blink, breathe, or