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in town. It’d been his first day on the job. “A dumb accident,” he’d said, but then with a smile that captivated her, added, “A lucky one.” She’d asked why he called his gaping wound requiring six stitches lucky and he’d said, “If I hadn’t torn up my thumb, I might never have met the prettiest filly in these parts.”
    Samuel Graves had been a smooth-talking, charming man. She’d fallen for him on the spot. They married in a matter of weeks, long before she had any idea of her husband’s terrible past. And of his compulsion.
    Sighing, her thoughts turned to Luke Jacobs. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t erase him from her mind. Maybe a dip in White River would cleanse that man from her system.
    Regardless, she would not make the mistake of giving her heart to another handsome, persuasive man.

Chapter Four
     
    M ary stepped into the backroom of Addie’s millinery shop and the monthly gathering of the Snip and Sew quilters. Five pair of inquisitive eyes lifted from basting the Grandmother’s Flower Garden quilt to the frame and focused on her. Mary loved these ladies and they loved her, so why did she feel like a rabbit caught in the sights of a cocked rifle?
    Her sister-in-law smiled. “Glad you could make it this afternoon.”
    Addie’s baby girl slumbered in a cradle a few feet away, her little mouth making sucking motions as she slept. Mary placed a kiss on the top of her niece’s fuzzy blond head. “Lily gets more adorable every time I see her.”
    “I can’t keep her awake during the day. But in the middle of the night, she’s all smiles and coos. Fortunately for me, Charles can’t resist walking the floor with her until she falls asleep.”
    Sally Bender poked Mary’s arm. “What kept you? Still trying to chase that handsome peddler out of town?”
    Had everyone heard about her encounter with that reprobate? “I wish. How could you call that troublemaker handsome?”
    “What woman wouldn’t notice, right, Sally?” Martha Cummings pulled a length of thread from her mouth, her eyes twinkling with amusement. At Martha’s feet, her youngest sat on a blanket gnawing on a bell-shaped rattle. “I may be happily married for ten years, and have five children eight and under, but I can appreciate a fine-looking man.”
    A flash of dark eyes, muscled forearms and a dimpled cheek sparked in her memory. Averting her face, Mary opened her sewing box and took out her needle, avoiding the question, but her stomach tumbled. She had noticed and didn’t like it at all.
    Raising her head, she met Martha’s stare.
    “By the look on your face, Mary, I’d say you’ve noticed too.”
    Once again the women turned toward her, their expressions full of speculation. Heat climbed Mary’s neck, but she forced a calm, indifferent tone. “His looks are unimportant. He’s pilfering hard-earned money out of our neighbors’ pockets.”
    Martha poked the damp end of the thread through the eye of her needle. “Are you sure you’re right about that? I bought a bottle myself, and the sheriff’s wife claims that tonic eased his sour stomach after only one dose.”
    With all this talk about the peddler and his remedy, Mary barely kept her hand steady to thread her needle. “The sheriff’s probably getting relief from the peppermint I smelled in that bottle.”
    “Peppermint never helped the sheriff before. No reason it should now,” Martha said.
    Successful at last, Mary knotted the end of her thread. “I’ve read about people believing in something so much the concoction works—for a while.”
    Sally guffawed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Whether his potion works or not, you’re wasting yourenergy, Mary, trying to run that peddler out of town. Men don’t have any inkling when they’re not wanted.”
    How could he not? Hadn’t Mary made her feelings abundantly clear?
    Fannie Whitehall moaned. “More like, men don’t have any inkling when they’re wanted .”
    Sally patted the