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little girl has a mind of her own.”
    Their little girl was a woman full grown, twenty-five on her last birthday, but Newt didn’t remind Tuck of what he already knew. “Six proposals of marriage,” he said instead. “Six. And this is the one she accepts. That must be the very definition of a mind of one’s own.”
    â€œMust be.”
    Newt frowned. “Is it our fault?” he asked suddenly, rubbing his broad brow. “Something we did?”
    Tuck folded his arms across his chest. “Something we did that made her stubborn? Or something we did that made her stupid?”
    â€œOh, I know she gets her cussedness from us.”
    â€œThen I expect we also have to take some responsibility for stupid.”
    Newt accepted that Tuck was right, but he wasn’t happy about it. His broad brow remained furrowed. “Remind me, what was it about that McCain boy we didn’t like?”
    â€œShifty.”
    â€œAnd Fred Winslow’s oldest son?”
    â€œShiftless.”
    â€œTheodore Dobbins?”
    â€œFull of shift.”
    Chuckling, Newt felt the tightness in his chest ease. “Who does that leave?”
    â€œJonathan Pitt.”
    â€œOver my dead body.”
    â€œAnd Richard Westerly.”
    â€œOver your dead body.”
    Tuck nodded. “There you have it. We’ve come to Abraham DeLong.”
    â€œShe didn’t ask us what we thought.”
    â€œCould be she didn’t want to know, or could be she knows and didn’t want to hear.” He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “You harbor any doubts that she loves him?”
    Newt tugged at his shirt collar again. “There’s a couple or three ways to look at that, so hell yes, I have doubts. We agree our girl has a mind of her own, but that doesn’t mean she knows her own mind. I can’t figure if she loves him or just thinks she does.”
    â€œDoes it matter?”
    â€œMaybe not. I can’t find a way to make anything good come of it, and when it’s all said and done, and her heart’s brittle and breaking, she’ll blame herself.”
    â€œThat’s her way,” said Tuck. “Always has been. Remember how she was when we found her, all hollowed out, nothing but empty black eyes and a shell of body that looked like it would shatter if she sucked in enough air to catch her breath?”
    â€œI remember.”
    â€œAnd all those years going by while she carried around that little red-and-white tin like it was something real special, when what she was doing was reminding herself that it was her fault for what happened to those pilgrims.”
    â€œI recollect that, too.”
    â€œThat’s her nature,” Tuck said. “We can’t undo her nature, so I suppose what we can do is take her in when it all goes to hell in a handcart.”
    â€œI reckon that’s right.” Newton’s cheeks puffed as he blew out a breath. “Did you suspicion things were going to take a turn tonight?”
    â€œI had a feeling.”
    â€œYou should have told me.”
    â€œI thought it was indigestion. I had the clams.”
    Newt made a sound at the back of his throat that communicated his displeasure. “Seems like there’s no choice but to go along with this engagement.”
    â€œSeems like.”
    Newt kicked the door hard enough to make it shudder. “Damn it, Tuck. Bram DeLong should have asked us for Comfort’s hand. The way he did it, it was disrespectful.”
    Tucker put out a hand. “Easy. We don’t need company on account of you causing a ruckus.” He waited for Newton’s shoulders to go from hunched to brooding. “Bram’s spoiled.”
    â€œI’m not arguing that.”
    â€œComes from having a face like an angel, I expect.”
    Newt stared at Tucker. “He has a face like an angel?”
    Tucker shrugged. “I’ve heard women say that. He looks