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draught in here somewhere?"
    Hester did not lie. "Yes, it's in the yams if you must know."
    "You're truthful, if nothing else," he stated grudgingly. He set the plate aside.
    Hester wanted to rail at him when he set the plate aside, but she held her tongue. He'd eat eventually—not even the mighty Black Daniel could survive without sustenance, and with the volume of food he'd been consuming lately, she doubted he'd hold out for long. His appetite had improved markedly in the last day and a half, shockingly so to a woman who'd never had to feed a grown man of his size. He'd eaten everything she'd put before him, two helpings in most cases. She thought it too bad his personality hadn't improved as well.
    "Will you be needing anything else?" Hester asked.
    There would be no passengers arriving tonight, not with Shoe sniffing around. She planned on using the free evening to catch up on her correspondence with Foster, her fiance.
    "You can get me some shears and get this needlework out of my side." Since this morning the stitching had been itching something awful.
    "The threads will come out when it's time, not before."
    "Shears, Hester Wyatt."
    "Has it ever occurred to you to say please?"
    "It has."
    Hester thought him to be the most exasperating individual she'd ever had the misfortune to meet, and so she told him calmly, "I've seen children who've taken to the sick bed with better manners than you. Haven't you ever been laid low before?"
    "No."
    "Surely when you were a child?"
    "I've never been sick or injured a day in my life. I've led a very charmed existence up until now, but thanks to one of your neighbors, that appears to have changed."
    Hester still found his accusations offensive. "You malign us without reason, sir."
    "Near death is reason enough."
    She had no desire to prolong this discussion. "I will leave you to your meal."
    "Running from the truth won't change matters. There's a traitor here, and the longer you deny the possibility, the more lives you place in jeopardy. Sleep well, Miss Wyatt."
    Hester did not sleep well. She spent a restless night dreaming of slave catchers, dogs, and the one-eyed Black Daniel.

Chapter 4
    After returning from his predawn trek to the privy, Galen, mindful of the previous fit his hostess had thrown upon finding his shirt wet with sweat, donned a clean dry shirt from the big chest by the wall. He was now seated on the cot, breathing heavily from the exertion. He'd awakened this morning determined that today would be his last full day in bed, but his body didn't seem to cooperate. He could move around a bit better, but the ankle was still too tender to bear his full weight. The swelling in his face seemed to have lessened and he could see more clearly than he had in days. However, the threads in his side itched so fiercely he was tempted to go out and rub the spot against a tree as a bear would. Admittedly, the forced confinement had him surly as a bear. He'd been there six days. Six days too many. Snow would arrive soon, effectively shutting down his runs south until spring. If Ezra Shoe hung around for the winter, the chance to leave might never come.
    Galen looked up as his hostess came into the room carrying the tray which held his breakfast.
    "Good morning, Galen," she said cheerily.
    He nodded, not sure if he were up to such animation so early in the day. "Good morning," he murmured.
    Breakfast this morning consisted of piping hot hominy, a mound of eggs, cooked maple sugar apples spiced with cinnamon, and three fat biscuits running with melted butter. He surveyed it all and knew that when he did leave he'd sorely miss her cooking.
    Hester saw him eyeing the mound of food and said, "I hope I didn't give you too much." She had awakened this morning determined not to let his dark moods sully her day. She would be pleasant no matter what.
    "No, the portion is fine."
    "Good, then I will return later."
    "What about the shears?" he asked, looking up at her.
    Hester did not want to