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the subject drop and went back to her own work, which was considerable.
    At dinner, Mr. Wilcox was in attendance, along with Miss Shaeffer, the schoolteacher, and Mr. Johnston, the bookkeeper at the mill. Mrs. Hollinghouse-Stone, a reed-thin woman with a wart jutting out of her one long eyebrow and a wig that had seen better days, sat in the place of honor, beside Derora. Mr. Joel Shiloh was nowhere in sight, which was just as well, as far as Tess was concerned.
    Maybe he’d thought better of taking a room in Simpkinsville, maybe he’d gotten back in his wagon and driven away, never to be seen—or bitten—again.
    Tess pushed her boiled carrots around her plate with the prongs of her fork, miserable in a way that was completely new to her. Lord knew, she’d known misery when her mother had drifted into quiet madness,misery when her letters to her father had gone unanswered, misery when she had realized that Derora Beauchamp, her mother’s only sister, would tolerate her but never love her. But this was something different, this feeling she had now, had had since meeting Joel Shiloh that morning. It was a sweet, piercing sort of anguish and she knew instinctively that the malady was going to get considerably worse before it got better.
    If it ever got better.

Chapter Three
    A LONE IN HIS RENTED ROOM , K EITH TOOK THE CHAIN FROM around his neck and caught the gold band suspended from it between his thumb and index finger. Inscribed inside were the ironic words, “Forever and ever. Amelie.”
    He let the ring and chain sink into his palm, closed his fingers, and sat down on the edge of his bed. How short forever could be. How very, very short.
    Sounds from the main part of the house indicated that the lecture was about to begin; buggies and wagons had been pulling up out front for over half an hour. Keith smiled and shook his head and rubbed the sore place on his thigh, where Tess had bitten him.
    His smile faded. The bite was something he could live with; in a way, he’d deserved it. But the idea of Tess Bishop practicing free love was another matter. Good Lord, she couldn’t be serious, could she? She couldn’t actually believe that the problems of the world would be solved by so fatuous and simple-minded a concept?
    She could. She was only eighteen years old, younger than his starry-eyed sister, Melissa. She was naive, gullible, a succulent fruit ripe for the plucking.
    A tremendous rage surged through Keith, sent him rocketing to his feet. His head felt bloodless and light and his stomach churned—to think, just to think, of Tess giving herself to every Tom, Dick, and Harry, and all for the sake of some crack-brained philosophy!
    Slowly, after drawing a deep, steadying breath, he sat down again. She claimed that she was already a practicing free lover. If so, why hadn’t anything happened in his camp that morning?
    He imagined taking her into the shadowy privacy of his peddler’s wagon, imagined baring those lush and shapely breasts, imagined having her on that narrow cot. Now, in retrospect, Keith realized that, despite his blithe observations that she was too young for such things, he would have possessed Tess in every sense of the word if she’d given him the slightest encouragement.
    Reminding himself that Tess was younger than his sister did no good at all, not now. At eighteen, she was a woman, not a girl. And he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone, including his bride.
    Tentatively, he touched the ring Amelie had slipped onto his finger only moments before her death. Thewhole scene came back to him, the outdoor wedding in a Wenatchee churchyard, the presence of his family and friends, the nightmarish explosion and the horrors that had followed.
    Amelie had been killed instantly. Even now, after all the time that had passed, Keith could hardly bear to remember the screams of injured people and the shrieks of horses, the hot, acrid smell of dynamite, the still, tulle-and-lace-clad form lying on