The fact that Runs-from-Bears was with her father made things a little easier in one way, and much worse in another. Together there was no escaping them.

She said, “News of the battle?”

Her father said, “Nobody’s hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about. After yesterday’s drubbing it’ll take a few days for the Tories to work themselves up to another run at Rodriquez.”

“And in the meantime?”

Runs-from-Bears huffed a short laugh. “Every man jack is out there shoring up the fortifications. Except for the rifles, of course. They’re not so reckless as to put a shovel in your father’s hands.”

“Hey, now.”

“Nathaniel, if they need somebody to shoot the eye out of a squirrel at a hundred yards you’re their man, but a shovel just ain’t your kind of weapon. You’d likely take off a toe out of pure boredom.”

Many white people were so intimidated by Runs-from-Bears that they never imagined that he might have a sense of humor, but in fact he had always laughed easily and as a young man, the stories went, he had been prone to play tricks on everyone. Now his smile was friendly and easy, which thoroughly alarmed Hannah. Something was coming, and she had an idea it wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.

“You’re as jumpy as a flea,” her father said to her. “Settle down, daughter.”

And so she did. She sat straight of back and let herself be engaged in conversation, listened to the things they had to tell her, stories about the things they had seen that day, including their first sighting of an alligator. They had been sitting up in a cypress tree with a view to picking off a few British officers when the creature came up out of the depths. A hard-shelled overgrown lizard, said Runs-from-Bears. With too many teeth.

Now he was determined to get an alligator skin to take to the Kahnyen’kehàka at Good Pasture; otherwise, they would never believe his descriptions. The subject, Hannah realized finally, was about going home.

“I figure this business with the redcoats will be finished in a week or so, and then we can head out,” her father said. “We’ll have to wait that long just to get the horses we’ll need and a wagon or two. You think you’ll be ready?”

Hannah drew in a sharp breath. “Of course I’ll be ready,” she said, and she heard the sharpness in her tone. “I can’t wait to get home.”

“Good,” said her father. “That’s as it should be. I’m thinking I’ll take your stepmother a few saplings. A pecan tree, maybe, and I hear the magnolias are pretty in the spring. She’s got into the habit of planting trees, or better said she keeps Gabriel busy digging holes. She’s been talking about that greenhouse we saw in Scotland back when you were a girl, and you know what that means. Traveling in caravan like we will be, I expect I can get a few saplings back to Paradise for her to coddle through the winter. Young Rachel will have more than a few trunks with finery and such, and then our Jennet has taken to collecting infants.”

Hannah said, “Da, will you get on with it and say what you came to say?”

He tilted his head at her. “I’m talking about the journey home, getting ready to go.”

“Packing,” added Runs-from-Bears, helpfully.

“I don’t have anything to pack,” Hannah said. “I lost everything when I fell sick, even the knife you gave me when I was a girl.”

“That’s right,” said her father. “I recall, now that you mention it. I’ve been keeping an eye out, and I picked this up for you.”

He unbuckled a scabbard Hannah had never seen before and handed it over to her. It was a short sword, the kind that officers carried. A very fine weapon with an inlaid grip, double-bladed, well balanced. A beautiful weapon, of little real use to her, but beautiful nonetheless.

Hannah said, “Why, thank you.”

“It’s pretty to look at, ain’t it? When we get home I’ll see to it you get a proper knife, but I don’t like the idea of you depending on borrowed weapons when you’re near the fighting out at the field hospital.”

“And now you’ve got something to pack,” said Runs-from-Bears.

Hannah looked back and forth between her father and her uncle. “I’m still waiting for you to get to your real point.”

Bears grinned at her, and her father cleared his throat and looked away.

“You were always bright,” her father said. “My ma was teaching you your letters when you was no more than four. Learning come easier to you than it does to any of your brothers and sisters, even Daniel. That book there in your lap, I doubt I could make any sense of the title, and were you to take the time to explain it to me. But in some things you’re plain slow, girl, and I suppose it falls to me to tell you so. If Elizabeth were here she’d do it without stumbling all over herself, but she ain’t.”

Hannah felt her color rising. She opened her mouth as if to protest but her father held up a hand to stop her.

“You’ve been torn up inside since before we got here, and it’s worse every day. Now I’m not talking about the wrong done to you, that’s something different. That calls for a certain kind of healing, and maybe it won’t ever find an end. What I’m talking about is the pain you cause yourself.”

The first flush of embarrassment was giving way to anger, but her father wasn’t finished yet.

He said, “We like the man, Hannah. He’s quick, and he’ll do what needs to be done without shirking or excuse. Everybody who knows him—white or black or red—likes and respects him, and the few who don’t have reason to fear him. And here’s something I cain’t often say: He’s smarter than you.”