midnight unless need or malice drove them.

A voice called from the porch.

“Reed! Open up.

We know she’s there.”

Beatrice recognized Gideon Pike at once.

Jonah could not hear the voice, but he saw recognition and fear move through her face.

He took the slate.

Who?

The tavern men, she wrote.

Another knock.

“Your wife’s brother says she stole from the Hale house,” Gideon shouted.

“We’ve come to look around.”

Beatrice’s fear sharpened into anger.

Owen.

Of course Owen would come.

Of course he would dress control as concern and theft as family business.

But why bring Gideon? Why bring men from the tavern instead of the sheriff?

Then she saw Jonah glance at the bracelet.

He was thinking the same thing.

Someone knew.

Beatrice hid the note beneath a loose brick near the hearth and tucked the bracelet into the bodice of her dress.

Jonah stood, still pale but steady, and moved toward the door.

She stopped him.

“Let me.”

He read her lips badly but understood her hand on his sleeve.

Beatrice opened the door.

Rain gusted into the room.

Gideon Pike stood on the porch with his hat low and his smile sharp.

Owen was beside him, smelling of whiskey and wet wool.

Behind them stood Samuel Brigg and Thomas Vale, both avoiding her eyes.

“There’s our bride,” Gideon said.

“Warm and cozy.”

“You have no business here,” Beatrice replied.

Owen shoved his way forward.

“You took Ma’s sewing box.”

“I took my needles.”

“You took more than that.”

His gaze moved past her into the kitchen.

It landed on the lamp, the cloth, the tweezers, Jonah standing white-faced by the table.

Gideon saw it too.

His smile disappeared for half a second.

Beatrice noticed.

Jonah noticed her noticing.

Gideon stepped closer.

“Move aside.

We’ll just have a look.”

“No.”

The word left Beatrice before she could think.

Owen laughed.

“You hear that? She thinks this is her house.”

Jonah crossed the room in two strides.

He did not touch Owen at first.

He simply stood beside Beatrice, large and silent, rainlight behind him and firelight on his face.

Gideon lifted both hands in mock peace.

“No need for trouble.

We are only helping her family.”

Jonah picked up the slate and wrote one word.

Leave.

He held it up.

Samuel shifted his weight.

Thomas looked toward the yard.

Gideon’s eyes narrowed.

“Careful, Reed.

You’re not the only man with a claim to this hill.”

Beatrice felt Jonah go still.

A claim to this hill.

The words were too pointed to be random.

She looked at the hidden brick, then at Gideon, and understood enough to be frightened.

The note had mentioned Reed land.

Wrong blood.

Hidden.

If Jonah had been hidden, then from whom? And why would Gideon care unless someone stood to lose something if Jonah were found?

Beatrice took one step onto the porch, forcing Gideon back.

“Tell Sheriff Calder,” she said, “that if he wants to search my home, he can come in daylight with a warrant.”

Owen’s mouth opened.

She turned on him.

“And you may tell Silas Hale that I am no longer inventory.”

The sentence struck him harder than a slap.

His face flushed.

Gideon looked from Beatrice to Jonah.

Whatever he had expected to find, it was not