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his head that—I don’t know if I should tell you. He is angry with me, angry with Mr. Bleu...”

Her eyes lit with interest.

“Neither of us have done anything wrong. Please do not assume...” I was digging myself into a hole. My reputation hinged on my words. “Mr. Bleu was merely apprising me of some farm business. Uncle didn’t like it. Made wild assumptions about Mr. Bleu stealing his land. My land.”

Mrs. MacDonald’s expression cleared with insight.

Wish she’d let me in on the secret. “I can’t make sense of it.”

“Hmm.” Her hands drew together in one fist.

“No one wants me around. Except for Ernest. He’s the only one that cares, at least I believe he does.” I shrugged. “For the first time since my parents died, I know what I want and need to do.”

She nodded, pensive. “You won’t reconsider? Stay here until peace is made?”

She already knew my answer. To live under a constant weight of obligation...

“I see. You need a good dose of quiet, I think.” She seemed to accept my plan. “Well then. If you insist on setting up housekeeping, we may as well see what’s in the attic. You’re not to refuse me this.”

She swept up her elegant self and smoothed her skirts. “Follow me.”

She fetched two lanterns and we climbed a steep stairway hidden inside a deep closet I hadn’t known was there. Easy to get lost in this mansion.

Light shone in a few small windows, dust motes swirled in the beam. This attic could be a ballroom.

Sheet covered furnishings filled the space. I wondered what the built-in drawers were filled with—such treasures could be found here! I shrank from her lead.

“Start uncovering. Take what you like.” Her tone commanded rather than pled.

I lifted the corner of a sheet carefully and folded it back. A small round table, in a deep rosy brown stain.

“This is perfect for that small cottage. Won’t take up too much room.” She set it aside, decision made.

I was afraid to draw back another. Funny how fear can stop me from accepting a gift—things I need.

She was already uncovering another piece. This time, a rather worn horsehair settee, like those used when Mother was young and skirts flared so wide. “Rather ugly. But if you want it, you can always cover it with a quilt. Or I can set Joe on it. He’s handy with upholstery.

“I beg you not to add work to his busy schedule.”

“Joe’s here on mercy. Plus, we can’t use him out in the fields.” She shrugged. “A man needs to stay busy.”

“You have a bed, dresser, secretary, chair, myriad of trunks...bookshelf? Here. This one will suit.”

A short shelf, but wide enough to hold my collection. I began to envision my space pulling together with a cozy air. “I thank you, this is quite enough!”

“Nonsense. These things aren’t doing anyone any good.” She smiled. “Gives me a thrill to help set you up, never mind I’d rather you didn’t.” She walked over to those mysterious drawers. “Now for the essentials.”

I’ve little need for the store catalogue now. Hidden in those drawers were kitchen things, much used cast iron—all the better for cooking with.

How unexpected this outcome! Even Chess pitched in and carried all of the chosen things to the stable where the rest of my belongings wait for a new home. His expression belied relief.

Had I been but a distraction?

Chapter 26

BETRAYAL. THE WORD carried a simple meaning, many implications. How could she? Why would she? James stood across from Mr. MacDonald with mounting confusion. “I’m not sure if I heard you correctly. You say Miss Trafton sold you twenty acres of her land?”

“Yep. She sure did. Can’t say I’m not pleased.” His bearded grin rose higher “You know, the acreage was originally part of my family’s stake, back in the old frontier days. Finally finding its way home.”

“Did she consult Hammond?” He rested his hands on the back of the chair. “Ask him if this would be agreeable?” He already knew the answer.

“Can’t say that she did. Don’t worry, we’ll put it to good use, my sons and I.” He clapped a hand on James’ shoulder. “Don’t look as though I stole something, boy. You know that portion has lain fallow far too long, at least since the Birch tragedy. Will take another year before it’s clear enough to use.”

He’d never thought her capable of this.

“Land’s going to pure waste and you know it. I wouldn’t spread rumors, but my wife says Dorothy can’t go back to the farm to live. She’s no longer welcome. Something between Hammond and the girl went awry. Don’t rightly know what.” He stroked his beard. “Honestly, I’m a might afraid for the lass. That man has a temper.”

James cleared his throat. “So she sold land to you, to be able to support herself?” It didn’t make much sense. “Do you require rent from her?” Unthinkable.

He emphatically jerked his head side to side. “No, sir. We tried to get her to stay on until things die down. Thought maybe with the house repaired, they’d all be in good spirits again.” He paused. “We had us a little drama of our own going on. Didn’t even know about it ‘til today. Turns out Chess has asserted himself and expressed interest in courting her.” He laughed softly. “Granted, that might have made life around here a little awkward.”

True, Chess’s enthusiasm drew a lot of attention. Dorothy might not be the most grateful recipient. James closed his eyes momentarily. Thankful for that at least. But she’d been boxed out. Desperate. Hopeless? He wished he didn’t know how that felt. But he did. It hurt.

“Where will she live? Boarding house downtown only takes men.”

“Old Maggie Birch’s cottage. She plans to fix it up. Wife’s not too pleased for a gal to live out on her own. Gave me a fit over it.”

“That old place?” Unbelievable. Her hike there had been more than a lonely country ramble. James peered out the door and down the hall. He

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