"Realized what?" asked Emily, tentatively.

"I always knew you liked John Henry. But you can put me in a barrel and call me a cracker if you're not actually in love with him. You are, aren't you, child? Fess up."

"I'm only seventeen years old," she replied, disingenuously. "What would I know about love?"

Tice chuckled and wagged a finger at her. "It's disrespectful to play games with an old codger like me."

"You're not old. Just absentminded. Your pipe is probably in your pocket."

Tice patted himself down. "You're absolutely right. Well, fetch my hat and cane and we'll be off."

They left the cabin and started down the street, side by side, Tice securing a battered old stovepipe hat on his head and swinging a teak walking stick sporting a staghorn handle. The doctor's old one-eyed dog, Caesar, came loping along from somewhere and followed in its master's wake to the edge of town. Here it stopped and with one baleful howl returned in dejection to the cabin.

Not until they reached the outskirts of Grand Cane did Emily get a chance to ask Tice the question that had been on her mind ever since John Henry McAllen's arrival—this, because Tice had been calling out greetings to one and all since stepping off his porch. Since the Torrance cabin was just a holler down the road, she slowed her pace, forcing Tice to adjust his stride accordingly.

"Dr. Tice, do you think Captain McAllen loves his wife?"

Tice knew the girl's mind and her moods, and he was expecting something in this vein. "No, I don't believe he does," he replied, after a thoughtful silence.

"Then why does he stay with her?" Emily realized she was overstepping her bounds, but Artemus Tice had never failed to respond candidly to any of her questions before.

"That's hard to say, child. John Henry is not an easy man to know. I've been acquainted with him for going on twelve years now, and still I cannot honestly say I know his mind. I can say that he does not like to admit failure. That is an admirable trait, in most instances."

Emily sighed, dissatisfied. "Well, it just simply isn't right. Captain McAllen has done so much for everyone around here. He deserves to be happy."

"And you think you could make him happy?"

Emily blushed again and looked at her dusty toes. "What does it matter? Even if he wasn't married, he wouldn't give me a second thought. I'm so plain and he's . . . he's so handsome."

Tice suppressed a smile. "Is he? Hmm. I'll take your word on that. But you are a very pretty young lady, Emily. I don't consider you plain at all."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Oh, no, I'm not. I mean every word." Tice stopped. The Torrance cabin was a stone's throw away. "Listen to me, child. You mustn't let on to John Henry about your true feelings for him. The Romans used to say that a man is the architect of his own fate. That's always been the case with John Henry, at least since I've known him. But this situation he finds himself in now has gone beyond his control. Right now he is confused. If you care for him you will not add to his confusion. In the long run, such conundrums have a way of working out for the best. So you must bide your time, dear Emily. I realize that is not an easy prescription for a young person like you."

"I don't ever count on tomorrow. Tomorrow may never come."

Tice nodded sympathetically. He could well understand why Emily, who had lost her parents in the blink of an eye, would feel that way. "Still," he said, "you must promise me."

"I promise." She sighed, crestfallen.

"That's my girl. Now, come along."

Upon arrival at the cabin they learned that McAllen had gone down to the river to bathe. Yancey gave Emily the task of cleaning the captain's travel-worn clothes. Braxton, Yancey's brawny twenty-year-old son, went down to the river to tell McAllen that Dr. Tice had arrived. A few minutes later McAllen came in. He was wearing Brax's extra homespun shirt and stroud trousers. With a smile he complimented Emily on her breakfast, claiming it was the best he'd had in a coon's age. She was rendered tongue-tied, and for some time after she felt as though she were floating a foot off the ground.

As the men settled down to talk, Emily took McAllen's clothes out to the back porch where the basin and washboard were located. A moment later Braxton came out on his way to the smitty. It was the long way around, but he wanted to see her. As usual, his eyes lingered on her.

"Hey, Emily," he said with a crooked grin. "You want to go with me down to the swimming hole later?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "You'd be in a heap of trouble if your pa heard you ask me that."

Braxton snorted. He was not so easily scared off. "They'll be in there jawin' until sundown. He won't even notice we're gone. Come on, Em. You know you want to."

"I most certainly do not."

Brax scowled. "What is it with you? Is it that Captain McAllen, maybe? I seen how you look at him. I bet you'd go down to the river with him anytime he wanted you to. Day or night."

Emily's temper flared. "You'd better get along, Braxton Torrance."

Brax backed down then, and the crooked smile reappeared. "Don't get riled, cousin. It was just a thought." He ambled away in the direction of the smitty.

As she worked, Emily could hear Uncle Yancey, Dr. Tice, and Captain McAllen talking. She gathered that a man named Jonah Singletary had written something insulting about McAllen's wife in his newspaper. Both Uncle Yancey and Dr. Tice tried to talk McAllen out of doing anything unpleasant to Singletary. Eventually they switched to the topic of the Comanche Indians, which broadened to include the Texas Rangers, Mirabeau B. Lamar, and the proposed peace talks at the Council House. Tice remarked that Mirabeau Lamar was one of those people whom God produces in his less resolute moments.

Later that day, McAllen and Tice strolled into Grand Cane so that the captain could visit with some of the other Black Jacks. They did not return until the purple shades of twilight had enfolded the earth. Mary Torrance was home from the schoolhouse by then, and Emily helped her prepare dinner. After dinner, Uncle Yancey sat on the porch with McAllen and they shared a jug of corn liquor. That night the mere fact that John Henry McAllen was sleeping under the same roof was sufficient to keep Emily awake until the early hours of morning. She dreamed of standing on the gallery of the main house at Grand Cane plantation, watching McAllen ride up the lane on his high-stepping gray hunter, while off in the distance a slave played a mournful fiddle while another sang in a rich baritone. Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home . . . And then McAllen was jumping out of the saddle and running to sweep her up in his strong arms and . . . Emily woke feeling like she had a fever.

The next morning she put on her calico "Sunday" dress, but everyone was too busy to even notice. Without being seen, she picked a wildflower and put it in the pocket of McAllen's coat, which she presented to him with the rest of his clothes, lovingly washed and folded. "You'll make some lucky man a splendid wife, Emily," he said. For some reason the intended compliment upset her.

After breakfast, Dr. Tice rode down the lane from town on his old piebald mare, and before long McAllen was gone, with Uncle Yancey and Tice and the half-breed named Joshua, bound for Austin. Emily was on pins and needles all morning for fear that McAllen would discover the flower before departing, and knowing that if Dr. Tice saw it he would realize she had broken her promise. But the flower remained undiscovered, and as she watched them ride away, Emily wondered with a flutter in her heart what John Henry McAllen would think when he found it.