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you telling me that you don’t know anything about her having a baby?”
    Miss B. pulled on the ball of yarn in her lap. “Did you see one there?”
    “No, Mr. Ketch said it was a stillbirth.”
    Miss B. rolled her eyes. “Why, I’d guess we’d both know it if she’d just had a birth, as I’m sure you gave her a thorough examination.”
    He drummed his fingers on the table, staring at his cup. My handkerchief was sitting near it, the one that Precious had given me for my last birthday, my initials embroidered in a ring of daisies. “Mr. Ketch said Mr. Judah Rare’s daughter might be able to shed some light on the matter.”
    “Miss Rare is a proper young lady who’s kind enough to keep company with a wretched, feeble granny like myself. She’s also wise enough to know better than to find herself in Brady Ketch’s part of the wood. Nothin’ there but lies and brew. Either one you choose, you’re askin’ for trouble.”
    Dr. Thomas picked up the folded square of cloth and looked it over. “Dora’s her name, isn’t it? I stopped by her house and spoke with her mother before I came to call on you. What a kind woman she is. She guessed that I might even find her daughter here, with you.”
    Miss B. calmly put out her hand, reaching for the handkerchief. “Left this behind last time she was here. You know how forgetful them young girls can be. Can’t tell you what they done that same mornin’, never mind yesterday, or last week. Some flighty too, never know when she’ll show her face at my door.”
    Dr. Thomas frowned as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. It’s the same thing Father does when he knows something he’s planned on paper isn’t going to work with hammer and nails. “Maybe I’d better visit Mrs. Ketch again and see if she can remember anything now that she’s back on her feet.”
    Miss B. gave a cheerful response. “No need for that, my dear. Brady Ketch may well forget he ever knew you and shoot you on sight. It’s best you leave the women of the Bay to me.”
    The doctor mumbled under his breath. “Leave them to have their babies in fishing shacks and barns.”
    Miss B. scowled. “What’s that?”
    “I think you should be made aware that the Criminal Code of 1892 states: ‘Failing to obtain reasonable assistance during childbirth is a crime.’”
    Miss B. ignored him and said, “I’m wonderin’, Doctor, how many babies you brought into this world?”
    “During my residency in medical school, I observed at least a hundred or more births—”
    “How many children you caught, right as they slipped out of their mama’s body?”
    “Well, I—”
    Miss B. stopped him from answering. “It don’t matter…” She pulled at the tangled mass of beads around her neck. “See these? That’s a bead for every sweet little baby.” She pulled the longest strand out from the neck of her blouse. “See this?” A tarnished silver crucifix dangled from her fingers. “As you’ve probably heard tell…this child’s mama ‘give it up’ in a manger.” She let it fall to her chest. “So’s next time you come out here, tryin’ to save the barn-babies of Scots Bay, you remember who watches over them.” She stood up from her seat. “I believe your coffee done got cold, Dr. Thomas. I’d ask you to stay for supper, but I know you’ll want to get back down the mountain to your dear wife. The road has more twists when it’s dark.”

    Mother didn’t wait long to ask me what it was Dr. Thomas wanted. “Did he find you at Miss B.’s? He seemed nice enough. Quite the thing to come way out here. Your brothers couldn’t get over that automobile of his. What’d he want, anyway?”
    “He just wanted to find out how many babies were born in the Bay last year. Part of some records they keep for the county, or something like that.”
    “That’s interesting. How many babies were there?”
    “When?”
    “Last year. How many babies were born in the Bay last year? I can think of three,