“It’s fine,” I told them as I carefully shut the door behind me. Still, it probably didn’t assuage their fears when I picked up a butcher’s knife from its place on the wall. Their eyes widened at the sight. Rose huddled under June’s arm as Avery scampered over to the front door just as a knock sounded from it. There was no time for me to run upstairs and warn my mother to stay in her room, I just had to hope she’d be smart enough to do so. She never spoke and she was a little neurotic, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Who’s there?” June asked, her voice breaking. “What is it now? Is the rabid horse back?”

I made the motion for her to be quiet, and then stepped in front of them, keeping them confined to the kitchen while Avery grabbed the shotgun off the wall before putting his hand on the knob. “There are a few men here,” I whispered. “We don’t know who they are or what they want.”

“Are they Indians?” Rose asked with big green eyes.

“No,” I said, gazing at her coldly, wondering why I wanted to protect her and her ignorance again.

I turned back to see Avery opening the door a crack, keeping the shotgun behind his back and out of sight. Thank heavens the damage that Nero did last night didn’t affect the door as a whole.

“Yes?” he asked.

I could only see Tim, the older, grey-bearded fellow clearly, though I sensed the other two were right behind him.

“Good afternoon, pardner,” Tim said in a thick Texan drawl. Ooh boy. I’d only met a couple of Texans in my lifetime, and both of them had been trouble. Up close, his eyes were a deep blue and possessed a startling clarity that contrasted with his lined face. “I was wondering if I could speak to the master of the house.”

I could see Avery flinching slightly, wondering if he should lie or not. Though Tim gazed directly at him, I knew he’d seen us in the background. Those kind of eyes saw everything. They reminded me of my father.

“He’s out yonder,” Avery said, and I winced when I heard the warble in his voice. “I work for him. I’m Avery Packwood. How may I be of service?”

Tim smiled, displaying a few missing canines that looked like black piano keys. I could hear Rose suck in her breath behind me, as if people in River Bend were known for perfect teeth.

“Do you know when you expect him back?” Tim was being polite, but I knew the other men behind him, Mr. Scar Face and Mr. Snarl, were otherwise. I didn’t know what these men wanted but I knew it wasn’t trivial.

Avery squared his shoulders, and as he did so, the muzzle of his shotgun tapped against the door. Tim looked down and raised his brow but didn’t say anything.

“He should be back for supper,” Avery said.

“Is that your supper cooking in there now?” a lecherous voice said from the porch. I could hear the man sniffing, Mr. Scar Face, and I immediately felt disgusted, as if he were smelling us—the women. “Maybe we could all have a feast.”

“Ease up, Hank,” Tim warned, his mouth turning grim. He looked apologetically at Avery. “Sorry about that, pardner. We’ve been on the road for an awful long time and it’s been a while since we’ve had a hot meal.”

While I started cursing Avery inside my head if he dared to invite them in, Tim continued. “No matter, we’re used to the lack of hospitality up north here. You see, we only need to ask Pat Smith a question, that’s all. Get his permission for something that we’re doin’. See, who we really want to talk to, who we’re really here for…is a half Injun’ girl called Eve Smith.”

Tim looked past Avery’s shoulder and met my eyes with an air of victory. They were here for me.

Aunt June gasped.

My blood ran cold.

I tightened my grip on the knife.

“I’m Eve Smith,” I said, my voice surprisingly loud and clear. I could hear June and Rose fretting behind me, but there was no use in pretending I was someone I wasn’t. Besides, I wanted to know why these strange men were here and looking for me. I barely even existed at times.

“Ignore her, she’s lying,” Avery said, trying to block Tim’s eye line. Any other time I would have been touched by his loyalty to me but not now.

I walked across the room, holding the knife in plain sight, and stopped on the other side of Avery. Up close, I could see the puffiness under Tim’s eyes and the red tinge of his nose, more signs of his age. Still, his eyes remained clear as day, even as they crinkled at the corners as I approached. He barely noticed the knife.

“I said, I’m Eve Smith.” I looked dead at Tim, resisting the compulsion to look behind him at the two others. Their silence continued to be menacing.

“Well, how do you do, Eve Smith?” he greeted cordially, tipping the brim of his weather-beaten hat.

“I do just fine. Now how may we help you?”

“Why, aren’t we well-spoken,” he commented. I waited for the comment about never meeting a well-spoken Indian before, but it never came. A smile twitched at the corner of his dry lips as he appraised Avery. “Your friend here was trying to protect you, I reckon, but the fact is, ma’am, we don’t mean no harm.”

“Then what do you mean?” I questioned boldly.

He raised his brow, taking a moment before he spoke. “Me and my friends here, we’re a makeshift search party of sorts. This is the last settlement before we head off into the mountains, and after inquiring at the general store for a local tracker, boy weren’t we surprised when a woman’s name kept coming up.” He looked me up and down. “However, now I see you’re more of a girl than a woman.”

“She’s a lady,” Avery said, his shoulders tensing. “I don’t think you should call her anything less while you’re standing outside her home.”

“My apologies,” Tim offered quickly, though he and I both knew I was the furthest thing from a lady. Aunt June and Rose were ladies. I was just impressed he called me ma’am.

“Besides,” Avery went on, “there are other trackers in the area. I can certainly be of help.”

My heart squeezed at the thought of him going off with these men.

“We might right need the help of a young man like yourself, Avery Packwood,” Tim said. “But Eve’s name kept on coming up. And though we know we might find someone—a man, perhaps—at one of the local tribes, our general consensus is that you can’t trust a savage.”

I bristled at that and Avery shot me a warning glare over his shoulder, knowing I was seconds from saying something hot-tempered. Tim seemed friendly enough, but we certainly weren’t safe yet.

I took in a deep breath. “I’m half-savage. Will that be a problem?”

Tim grinned. “Not with me. Besides, I hear you’re a lady. Now, what we want to know is if you’d be willing to join us on our expedition.”

The moment he said that, there was a flurry of hoofbeats as the rest of the riders appeared just off the porch, obviously coming up empty-handed from the Millers. I could feel the stares as they rode high on their horses, could smell the gunpowder at their sides.

“There is no blazing chance she is going on an expedition with a posse of strange men,” Avery said. Once again, my heart did a skip at how protective he was being, even though I wished he would let me handle this.

“Can the lady not speak for herself?” Tim asked. “Decide for herself? Are you her father?”

“Her uncle acts as father to her,” Avery said. My eyes flitted down to see two drops of sweat slide off the barrel of his shotgun, his hands pale and clammy.

“Then what does her mother say?” Tim looked over me and into the house, his eyes curious, and I knew my mother was there.

I looked behind me quickly. My mother was at the foot of the stairs, her plaid shawl wrapped around her, the ends fraying and moth holes littered throughout. It had been a gift from my father, and as such, she never let anyone touch it or wash it. It was on her all the time. Her golden hair was a mess and sticking out every which way, while her green eyes held only sadness. My mother would have been beautiful, even more so than Rose, whom she deeply resembled, but life had other plans for her.