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harshly when he came abreast of where she stood amongst the trees. The short walk from the house had cost him much in the way of strength.
    Wondering if he had any sense at all, she told him, "I'm going to assume there's a sound reason for you to be out?"
    He found a cleared stump and eased himself down. "Yes. If I stay locked in that room for one more minute, I'll go insane."
    Their eyes held and Hester found herself remembering how warm his skin had felt under her fingertips. She looked away.
    "Is it time for a second helping of that ointment?"
    She chuckled inwardly and wondered if he possessed mind-reading capabilities. "No," she answered. "After luncheon. Then again after supper."
    "Pity," he stated, looking up at her.
    When he spoke again his voice was serious. "Hester, I'd like to apologize for my behavior since my arrival. You've been patient and gracious. I was raised better, even if I haven't shown it."
    Hester studied his bruised face, sensing his sincerity. "Apology accepted," she replied more softly than she'd intended. Pulling herself away from the dangerous undertow she sensed in him, she busied herself with looking for more of the downed apples littering the ground. She was only interested in the ones still in relatively good shape. Most of the best fruit had been shaken down by hired hands less than two weeks ago, then taken to market to be sold, or, sold by the barrel to her neighbors who put them up for winter, turned them into pies or cooked them down to apple sauce. Hester had her own supply stashed away in barrels in her cellar, but she checked every day anyway in hopes of rescuing any fruit which might be salvageable.
    As she walked around, stooping here and there to add an apple to her basket, she was very conscious of Galen. She knew he was watching her, and because he did she felt the return of that heart-racing nervousness. She told herself she was being silly, why in the world should she be as skittish as a young girl with her first beau? At twenty-four years of age, she was past the days of being rendered breathless by a man, even one as intriguing and mercurial as Galen. Yes, he was the Black Daniel, the most famous conductor on the Road, but he could also be rude, foul-tempered, and arrogant to a fault, not to mention his face, which still looked as if it had been run over by a wagon wheel. She couldn't possibly be affected by such a man.
    Galen's voice interrupted her thoughts when he asked, "Who's the biggest land owner around here?"
    "Jacob Aray. He settled here in '28 and has about one hundred and eighty acres." She came back and took a seat on a nearby stump then looked out over the land. "In my great-grandparents' day, the biggest land owners in the area were the Montgomery families. According to my aunt Katherine, they owned over a thousand acres on this end of the county."
    "Do they still have descendants in the area?"
    "No, the Montgomerys were Tories. When the Crown lost the war, the Montgomerys lost everything. They eventually emigrated to Canada with the other fleeing Tory supporters and my great-grandfather purchased some of the land."
    Galen looked out over the unplowed fields and asked, "How many acres do you own?"
    "About one hundred and ten."
    "You don't farm?"
    "No, but Mr. Hubble does on the land I lease him. At harvest time he gives me a portion of the profit. He lives about five miles east."
    "Anyone nearby selling land?"
    "Why? Are you looking to live amongst us traitors?"
    "Maybe."
    "You're jesting, surely?"
    "Maybe."
    He struggled up off the stump. Aided by the cane, he stood, then said, "I think I've had enough outdoors for one day."
    Hester was still stunned by the possibility of him buying land somewhere nearby. She wanted to badger him with questions.
    Galen sensed this, and unable to resist teasing her, asked, "Have I piqued your curiosity, Miss Wyatt?"
    Hester was surprised by the smile on his battered face. "Yes, Galen, you have."
    "Good," he said, chuckling softly.