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down a stack of papers held together by a string. She did not react to Baker’s language, so Noah guessed she had heard it before. A woman who did not chide a fellow for speaking his mind was a pleasant change from those who threatened to swoon if rough words were spoken in their hearing.
    â€œThe liar!” grumbled Baker. “Collis let everyone think he’d gotten the better end of the deal with some gent from Chicago. Bragged about it, he did.”
    â€œThen he was telling you some great tale. I got a good deal, and I’m from Cincinnati.” He kept his curses unspoken.
    Not once had he mentioned Chicago to Jeb Collis. He would not have been so careless. Cincinnati. Chicago. Both cities were a long ride from Haven, so Collis could have confused them easily, but Noah wanted to make sure no one connected Chicago with him. Maybe he should have gone to a bigger place than Haven, a place where he would have been anonymous among the crowds.
    That would have created other problems, because Haven had so many of the things he had been looking for. The people here seldom traveled far beyond the borders of their town, and even though they enjoyed gossip, they were so busy with their farms they had little time to snoop into anyone else’s concerns.
    â€œDid you catch the lad?” asked Baker, changing the subject.
    Glad to talk about something else, he answered, “The sheriff did.”
    â€œOne of them orphans off the train, was he?”
    Miss Delancy was right. Baker did not miss anything that happened on the street in front of the store. Although Noah was tempted to accuse the man of faking his deafness, he knew seeing the sheriff take the boy back to the Grange Hall on the other side of the village green must have revealed the truth to Baker.
    â€œYes, he is,” he replied.
    Baker spat toward a bucket beside a stack of cracker boxes. “Those kids are bound to be trouble. Lazy troublemakers. I’ve never met a Mick who wasn’t.”
    â€œIs that so?” Noah asked, surprised that Baker was upset because the children were Irish. This was a prejudice he had not expected to find here in southern Indiana. He had encountered such intolerance in New York and in Boston and even in Chicago … dammit, he had to put Chicago out of his mind, as he had put almost everything to do with it out of his life.
    He had thought Haven would be different, not bigoted like the big cities. He chuckled. Haven? Had he really believed it would be one simply because of its name? He must have, because he was here.
    â€œWhat is so funny, Sawyer?” Shifting on the bench, Baker scowled at him. “Are you laughing at me?”
    â€œNo, at me.”
    He walked across the store and leaned his hands on the counter only inches from where Miss Delancy was flipping through a sheaf of papers. He recognized the railroad’s name on the top of each of them. She looked up, and he found himself wanting to get lost in those soft green eyes again.
    â€œI told you I would let you know the price as soon as I found it, Mr. Sawyer,” she said quietly.
    He noticed her fingers shook as she turned the pages. Was he unnerving her that much? He would not flatter himself into believing that. Something—or someone else—must have upset her, because she kept glancing past him toward the door. She must be waiting for someone.
    That was no surprise. A fine-looking woman like Miss Delancy would have callers. Miss Delancy? He wondered what her given name might be.
    â€œHere it is.” She pushed the invoice toward him. “The price includes the shipping, Mr. Sawyer.”
    Now she was all business. He could be the same. Pulling out his wallet, he handed her enough coins to pay for the seed.
    â€œThanks,” he said, putting his wallet into the back pocket of his denims.
    â€œLet me know if there’s anything else you need.” Color flashed up her face at her unfortunate choice of