Truett forced his voice to sound calm. “I won’t do it. Even if it wasn’t against the law, I wouldn’t do it.”

Almira lifted her tear-streaked face with hope in her eyes.

A muscle in Sheriff Suggs’s jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together. He let go of Almira and she ran out the door. But the sheriff’s eyes never left Truett’s. Suggs stepped menacingly toward Truett until they stood toe to toe and nose to nose. He grabbed Truett by the throat and shoved him against the wall.

Truett knew he should try to make a show of fear, to seem weak, to plead with the sheriff to be reasonable. But it was all he could do to keep himself from breaking the man’s face.

“You’re trying my patience, Doc.”

Truett ignored the sheriff’s tobacco juice spittle that sprayed his face. He forced his clenched fists to stay by his sides.

“You know how to do it,” the sheriff ground out, “so tell me how it’s done. I’ll do it myself.”

“You’ll kill her.”

“So be it. It’s better than bringing this yellow baby into the world.”

“You’re an evil-hearted swine, twisted by hate.”

“I’m a man, not a weak fool like you.”

“No matter what you do to me, it’s nothing compared to what God would do. And I’m more afraid of God than of you.”

An ugly scowl came over the man’s face. He reared back and plowed his fist into Truett’s eye.

Truett slumped against the wall, seeing stars, but he managed to stay on his feet. He blinked a few times, then stared back at Suggs. “That all you got?”

“Your high and mightiness just might get you in more hot water than you can handle.” Suggs’ voice shook with anger as he poked his finger at Truett’s nose. “Just remember, I warned you.” He spun on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

Truett bent over. “Ow. Oh. Ow.” He gingerly touched the area around his eye, checking for broken bones. Everything seemed intact.

His face throbbed, but what really hurt was thinking about what Celia would say when she saw his black eye.

In the meantime, what should he do about Almira? He needed to go after her and protect her from Suggs. Who knew what he would do when he caught up with her.

A light tapping came at the back door. That door led to nothing except a stand of bushes behind his office. He went and jerked the door open. There stood Almira.

He gently pulled her inside and locked the door.

“I need a place to hide.” Her voice shook. “Do you think Celia Wilcox would let me stay with her?”

“I believe she would. Let’s go ask her.”

Almira lay down in the back of his buggy and he threw a blanket over her. He glanced around as he drove out of town, but, thank God, he didn’t see Suggs.

When he was almost to the Wilcox lane, he stopped the horses. He turned and Almira sat up and looked around. “Why are we stopping here?” Then she looked at Truett and gasped. “What happened to your face?”

He winced. “I don’t want Celia to see me. I have a feeling she would get upset.”

Almira smiled sadly. “I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”

“It’s nothing. You have your own worries. I’ll be all right.” He helped her down. She hurried toward the Wilcox place, turned into their lane and disappeared.

Now he had a letter to write. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to tell James about what Suggs was trying to do to Almira and the baby, or how he was going to keep any one of them from getting killed.

How could he ask Celia to marry him now? He had no right to ask her when he was in so much danger. But he should also write a letter that was long overdue, to put an end to Suggs’s reign of corruption. He owed it to Celia, if she was ever to become his wife.

Celia realized she’d been rocking the daylights out of the squeaky rocking chair for who knew how long. She forced herself to stop and tucked one foot underneath her.

She’d hurried to clear the table and clean up the dishes after supper. Then she’d made a pallet on the floor of Celia and Lizzie’s room for Almira, who’d insisted on sleeping on the floor because she didn’t want to take anyone’s bed.

That had been two hours ago. Everyone was in bed except Lizzie, who was staying up to finish embroidering a doll dress for Tempie.

Lizzie, ever the sweet, unselfish one. Lord, why couldn’t you have made me more like Lizzie—and less like me?

Where was Truett? He’d said he would come. She’d been so addled by his kiss, which had been mostly her fault, but now she wasn’t so sure she should have said he could come.

She’d started rocking herself again. She stopped. Rocking would only fuel the exhaustion from her nerves, stretched to breaking all day. She was thankful to be able to shelter poor Almira, but even that was an additional strain. If Mama only knew—the mother of her past, before Father died—she would have a conniption fit at the suggestion that an unmarried woman who had gotten with child was being sheltered under her roof.

As it was, Mama hardly noticed there was an extra person at the table.

As a church-going girl who conformed to most of society’s restrictions, it was a bit disconcerting, Celia had to admit, to know that Almira was with child out of wedlock. Celia was pretty sure how a woman got herself with child, but she didn’t like to let her mind go there. Still, even though her own reputation was in danger just by associating with a “fallen woman,” Celia wouldn’t think of turning the poor girl away with nowhere to go. God, she was sure, would never approve of that.

Celia had intended to concentrate on her career as a dressmaker and to start her own business. Marriage, if it came at all, would come later.

Today, hearing Almira speak of her love for her unborn child, Celia began to rethink a few things. Perhaps it would be sweet to have a baby, a little child that belonged to only her and Truett.

Wait! How did her mind jump to having Truett’s baby? Clearly, exhaustion was driving her insane.

Celia’s eyes were heavy and gritty. She leaned her head against the back of the chair, lulled by the whine and chirp of the crickets and cicadas.

The sound of a horse’s hooves clopping up the lane toward the house rose above the drone of the insects. She was pretty sure she recognized Truett and his horse, though she could only see their outline in the dark.

Why was he so late? If he wanted to talk to her, he should have gotten here at a decent hour. She stayed in her chair, trying to feign indifference.

He wore a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes, making it impossible to see his face. As he stepped onto the first porch step, his low voice drawled, “Waiting for me?”

The deep timbre of his voice sent a thrill through her.

She forgot about pretending not to care. “It is quite late.”

He sighed as he approached, then sank down in the wooden chair beside her. “I’m a lot later than I intended. If you’re tired and want me to leave, I understand.”

Celia said nothing, only stared at him. Something was bothering her besides his lateness. He kept his head down so that his hat cast too much of a shadow for her to see his eyes. Light from the lantern was flooding the porch from the window over her shoulder, but he didn’t turn in her direction, so she couldn’t see his expression.

A sudden thought made her stomach clench. What if he was acting aloof because he regretted what he’d said to her last night, the part about wanting her to marry him? He might try to take it back.

But Celia didn’t want him to think she held him to it. In fact, she too wished he hadn’t said it. His little proposal had sent her into a pit of panic and confusion she hadn’t climbed out of yet.

But perhaps she shouldn’t let him get off that easily. “You said you wanted to talk. So talk.”

“Is Almira here?”

“Yes. How did you know? She’s asleep in my room.”

“I drove her here. Thanks for letting her stay.”

“She’s welcome as long as she needs a place.”

“It could mean trouble for you if her father finds out she’s here.”

“I’m not afraid of him.” It was true, she wasn’t—not afraid for herself, anyway.

“Did Almira tell you what happened this morning?” The hesitation in his voice raised prickles of alarm on the back of her neck.

“What do you mean? She only said that her father found out she was with child, that she was afraid he would do something terrible to her, so she ran away.”

Truett nodded several times.

“What’s going on, Truett? Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“I am looking at you.”

Celia darted her hand toward him and snatched off his hat before he could react. The light from the windows behind them streamed over the side of his face.

Celia emitted an involuntary squeak. Truett’s eye was black and blue. The eyelid was swollen half-shut, and his cheekbone was purple.

“What happened?” Her voice sounded strangled as she choked on the lump in her throat. She reached toward his face but didn’t touch him. Even a light touch would probably cause him pain.

“It’s nothing. Just a bruise.”

He shrank into the shadows so she couldn’t see it anymore. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward her, into the light. “I want to see it.”

“No.” He pulled back.

“Let me see it!” She jumped up and grabbed him by both arms. She tugged, trying to pull him out of his chair. She couldn’t even budge him, but he sighed, hung his head, and stood up.

Taking hold of his chin, she turned his head toward the light.

“Someone hit you.” She leaned closer. “Have you been fighting?”

“Uh, not exactly.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

Celia realized she was standing closer to him than propriety allowed. Not to mention that they were alone together, late at night. If anyone caught them, her reputation would be ruined.

“Please tell me. Why can’t you tell me?” She couldn’t disguise the anxiety and anger in her voice. Why was he keeping a secret from her?

He stared down at his feet. “Telling you serves no good purpose. It doesn’t matter what happened.”

“It matters to me. Tell me.”

“I can’t tell you.”

She grabbed his upper arms. He didn’t budge.

“Tell me.” She ground out the words between clenched teeth.

He leaned his head back and let his eyes roll back in his head. Then he sighed. Again. He finally looked her in the eye and took hold of her, so that they were both holding each other’s arms.

“I’ll tell you but you have to promise not to cry or fly into hysterics.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to retort that she never “flew into hysterics.” But she bit back those words and said, “I promise.”

He sighed again.

“Would you stop doing that?” All that sighing was fraying her already-shredded nerves.

His throat convulsed as he swallowed. “Everything is all right. Don’t worry. But Sheriff Suggs came—”

Celia sucked in a breath so loud it sounded like she was inhaling a cricket. “Sheriff Suggs?”

Truett frowned and lowered his eyebrows at her. “Now, Celia, you promised.” He squeezed her arms tighter.

It was Celia’s turn to swallow hard. “All right. Go on.”

“He brought Almira to me and wanted me to end her baby’s life. I told him I wouldn’t do it. He got angry and hit me. That’s it.”

“Oh, Truett.” She was breathless and a little dizzy. “That horrid man! He’s evil. But you poor, poor thing.” She stared at the result of the violence inflicted on his face. She pictured Suggs’ fist slamming into his eye.

“I think I better sit down.”

Truett helped her back into her chair. “Breathe. It’s all right. Just breathe.”

Celia kept her head down and tried to comply. Breathing. In and out. She began to feel less light-headed. Truett said everything was all right, so maybe it was. Her head stopped spinning and she began to breathe more normally.

She looked up. “You didn’t hit him back, did you?” Please, God, let him not have hit him back!

“No, I didn’t hit him back.”

“Oh, thank you, Truett.” But the sheriff would hate Truett now. How long would it take him to figure out that Truett was the hooded horseman?