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answer. She had opened her mouth to ask him again when he dropped his hand and nodded at her.
    “Lance Sherer. Nice man. Very smart. He already has a wife, y’know. And children.” He hiccuped and smiled at her. A dimple appeared in his left cheek, making him appear debonair in spite of the wrinkled condition of his dark suit.
    “Well, I never!” Her indignation made her splutter the words. What was the man thinking? “I am a good friend of his wife. I’ve come at her suggestion.”
    “Is there a problem here?” Unnoticed, another man had stepped through the doors of the tavern.
    Foreboding made Iris’s heart thump loudly. Now she faced two strangers, and both of them were likely inebriated. What should she do? Cry for help? Make a dash through the door of the tavern? Or would that land her in even more trouble?
    She took a deep breath to calm her fears and glanced at the second stranger. At least he seemed to be able to stand straight without aid. And he was tall, too. Were all the men tall in this part of Tennessee? She couldn’t believe that her first two encounters in Daisy were with men she had to look up to.
    In appearance the second stranger was the opposite of the amiable man behind her. His hair was blond, and his shoulders were straight and wide. She couldn’t tell for certain in the dim light, but Iris thought his eyes were either blue or green. His style of dress was different, too—buckskin pants and a fur-lined coat instead of a crumpled suit. He carried a wide-brimmed hat in one hand, which he swept in an arc as he bowed to her. “Nathan Pierce at your service, miss.”
    Iris didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry. Here she was stuck in the middle of nowhere, all her worldly goods lying in the street, and presented with two different men— one a charming rogue and the other a model of propriety. Except … If Mr. Nathan Pierce was such an upright citizen, what was he doing coming out of the tavern?
    Another wave of laughter from inside suggested that the three of them would soon be joined by other examples of the male population to be found in Daisy.
    “Do you know where Mr. and Mrs. Lance Sherer live?”
    Mr. Pierce inclined his head over his right shoulder. “About two miles down that road.”
    Two more men stumbled out of the tavern. One of them stared at her but moved past without saying anything when he caught the warning look in Mr. Pierce’s eyes.
    Mr. Pierce returned his gaze to her face. “I can take you there, if you’d like.”
    Iris wondered if the stranger was trustworthy. But what other option did she have? She couldn’t stay out here in the street all night.
    “Don’t pay att … att’ntion to him.” Mr. Stuart’s words were still as slurred as when he’d first come outside, even though the crisp night air should have penetrated the fog of alcohol. He grabbed hold of the hitching post and leaned against it. “I c’n take care of you.”
    Mr. Pierce deftly inserted himself between them. He held out his arm. “Ignore him. Mr. Stuart is too … tired … to recall his manners.”
    Iris certainly couldn’t fault Mr. Pierce’s manners. Mr. Stuart was obviously not tired. But she appreciated Mr. Pierce’s kindness in trying to shield her from the man’s boorishness. Maybe it would be safe to allow him to take her to the Sherers’ home. She was about to tell him so when she remembered her trunk and portmanteau. She glanced around him to the street. From the corner of her vision she saw Mr. Stuart make a shaky bow and stagger away. She returned her attention to Mr. Pierce.
    “Don’t worry about your things. I’ll have someone come back in the wagon and pick them up. When you wake up in the morning, everything will be there.”
    “I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Pierce.” She put her hand on his arm, impressed by how hard his muscles felt under the thick fur coat.
    “It’s my pleasure, Miss …?”
    “Landon.”
    “Miss Landon.” He led her to a tall roan