Delia's hand flew to her chest, and she collapsed back against the chair. "I've never heard of anything so frightening!" She patted her chest. "And Caleb delivered Charlotte! I can hardly believe he'd do such a-"

"He didn't have any choice. Charlotte was coming will he or nil he."

"I can see why you and Caleb would feel the need to protect your reputation and your concern for Charlotte. I don't think people would judge you, but you might as well not put them to the test."

"Caleb told Reverend Joshua."

"Why, that betrothed of mine! He never said a word." Delia exhaled an annoyed breath. "I know he can't. I just didn't know he was so good at secrets."

"Other people's secrets," Maggie hastened to remind her. "Not his own."

"You're right. There's a difference." Delia glanced at the door. "I'll give you the short version of my secret, and we can discuss it more another time. My father will be wondering where I am."

Charlotte fretted, stretched out an arm, and arched her back, a move Maggie recognized meant her daughter would soon demand to be fed. She nodded at the baby. "Another reason to make things quick."

"I'm not really Delia Bellaire. I'm Delia Fortier." She rushed out the words, and then, wide-eyed, paused for dramatic effect.

"How can that be?" Maggie asked, puzzled by her new friend's meaning. "You look like your father." Then she realized what Delia meant. Her parents had not been wed. "Oh."

"And that's not the worst. My mother was a quadroon Negress, which makes me an octoroon." This time when Delia hesitated, her body tensed as if waiting for Maggie's condemnation.

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I'm one-eighth Negro."

Maggie studied her friend, searching for any sign of her racial heritage. Careful to not disturb Charlotte, she sat up to lean closer to Delia and thrust her arm alongside the other woman's so the sides of their hands touched. "Look, we match. I'm half Gypsy."

Delia's eyes widened. "I didn't know Gypsies were in America. In the stories I've heard, they wandered around Europe."

"Oh, there are definitely tribes here, too. Most are in the south. You might have run into some and didn't know it." She touched her earring. "They smuggle gold."

Delia studied the earrings. "I never would have known those are gold. You're so clever."

Maggie sat back. "Hurry and tell me the rest."

"My mother had financial problems-some bad business dealings. She was going to sell me to a powerful man to become his mistress."

Maggie gasped. She shook her head as if shaking some knowledge into her brain. "I thought the war abolished slavery."

"There are all kinds of slavery," Delia said in a dark tone. "Legally, Marcel Dupuy wouldn't have owned me, but to all intents and purposes, I would have been his slave."

"What did you do?"

"I fled to my father's house. He hadn't known of my existence. To protect me, we left New Orleans, pa.s.sing me off as his legitimate white daughter. On the train outside of Sweet.w.a.ter Springs, Papa had a heart attack and almost died. Reverend Joshua and Micah were also pa.s.sengers and came to our a.s.sistance, so we ended up here. Caleb and Edith took us in because the parsonage was too small to house us. Indeed, we are much indebted to them."

"Are you sure Caleb didn't fall in love with you?"

"A woman knows when a man loves her," Delia said with calm conviction. "I believe Caleb toyed with the idea of courting me. But he never had serious intentions. I can a.s.sure you his heart was not engaged."

Relieved, Maggie let out a long sigh. "But what happened?"

"I made the mistake of writing to my mother and telling her where I was. She sold the information to Marcel, who traveled here to kidnap me."

Maggie's mouth dropped. "And here you said you never heard of anything so frightening as my troubles," she scoffed. "Your experience was scary, too."

"But it was over quickly, and obviously Marcel didn't succeed in abducting me. But he revealed the truth of my heritage to Caleb and Reverend Joshua." She frowned. "Caleb and Edith were so upset-both about the lie and about the Negro blood. The fact that the blue-blooded Livingston line might have been tainted. . . . They asked Papa and me to leave."

Maggie's heart sank. Caleb had been so benevolent to her and Charlotte. She couldn't imagine the man she'd come to know being so unforgiving with Delia and her father. Perhaps I don't know him well, after all. Maybe, like Oswald, he hides a darker side.

"We were able to keep the secret. The Nortons know, of course. . .and Sheriff Granger, who arrested Marcel and ran him out of town with stern threats of imprisonment if he ever returned. But that's all."

Knocking sounded at the door.

"Our time of privacy is over." Delia rose to open the door.

"Is it safe to come inside?" Andre asked.

"Papa, Maggie and I were chatting." Delia stepped back so he could lean into the room.

Andre smiled at Maggie. "Good to see you resting. And I must do the same." He glanced at his daughter. "I came to tell you that I am returning to the hotel for a nap. I believe Reverend Joshua wants to take you for a drive in that new surrey of his."

"Oh, yes." Delia whirled and moved to the bed, her face alight. Bending over to kiss Maggie's cheek, she whispered, "I'm glad we're friends."

Her heart feeling heavy, Maggie could only nod. The Bellaires left the room, and she sank against the cushions and let her head fall back. Although relieved Caleb wasn't pining for Delia, the reason for the estrangement bothered her-both because the Bellaires were good people, but mostly because of the implication of tainted blood. In his eyes, my blood must be tainted, too. Not that Caleb had ever given an indication he felt that way.

But he feels responsible for me. She looked down at her daughter and began to unb.u.t.ton her bodice to feed the baby. "For us."

Once again, Maggie thought of the bathhouse and realized she needed to do some serious planning for the future.

The next day during school recess, his stomach sick with dread, Ben cornered Daniel Rodriquez Thompson at the side of the school as he returned from using the outhouse. He wanted to talk to the boy about borrowing his mother's buggy and team of miniature horses.

Daniel's Argentine heritage showed in his dark hair and olive skin. But he had his mother's blue eyes, which widened at the sight of Ben advancing on him. He raised his slanted eyebrows in obvious distress and took a step back. "Leave me be, Ben Grayson." He fidgeted, appearing uncertain about whether to run or stay.

They weren't alone for long. Daniel's adopted brothers saw them together and came at a run. They surrounded the younger boy, ready to protect him.

Hunter Thompson stepped in front of Daniel. The Blackfoot boy was about the same age as Ben, and he wore his hair in a long tail. The Indian wasn't one for talking, but he had a calm, confident way about him that spoke more loudly than words. In this case, the clear message was, you will not harm my brother!

Jack and Tim Ca.s.sidy Thompson flanked Hunter, their hands fisted. Both looked identical, except for the location of their freckles. Most of the time Ben couldn't tell them apart, probably because shame kept him from ever looking at their faces, and he interacted with them as seldom as possible. The twins had recently undergone a growth spurt, sprouting lanky arms and legs.

Today, Jack wore a blue shirt, or at least Ben thought the twin was Jack and not Tim, because the boy had sat in Jack's seat in the schoolhouse. But the twins had been known to swap places just to play jokes on everyone, including Mrs. Gordon.

Ben held up his hands, palms outward. "I'm not here to hurt Daniel. I just wanted to talk."

Jack leaned forward, his chin at a belligerent angle. "We know your kind of talk, Ben Grayson. Cruel talk. Now leave Daniel alone."

Ben held up a placating hand. "I give you my word."

Jack sneered. "And we know how good that is."

Daniel stopped his fidgeting, shoved between his brothers, and looked Ben directly in the eyes. "You never said you were sorry."

Daniel's right. The nausea in Ben's stomach churned. He knew he'd felt sorry but had been too ashamed to make a formal apology. The time has come. He forced the words out. "I was wrong not to apologize for something I shouldn't even have done in the first place."

Tim, wearing a green shirt today, stepped forward. "Then why did you?" His green eyes held old anguish. He was the quieter twin, the one most likely to follow his brother, not lead.

For quiet Tim to speak up before Jack told of powerful feelings inside the boy that Ben felt hopeless to fix. "I don't know." He raised his hands and let them fall back.

The four Thompsons waited, skeptical expressions on their faces.

Ben peeled back an old wound and peered into himself, thinking of that dark time. "My father died, which is why my mother and I moved to Sweet.w.a.ter Springs. Instead of being with my friends in Boston, I was here in the middle of nowhere. I remember being angry at everyone."

"Sure were," Daniel muttered.

Ben nodded in agreement. "But now that I think back, I realize. . . ." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Crazy as it sounds, I hoped that I would be caught." The truth tumbled out. "Then we'd return home." He shrugged. "I can't quite explain it. Being here so far away from everything I knew, I could pretend my father was still alive in Boston, and Mother and I could go back home to him and our real life."

Silence settled between them as the four pondered what Ben had revealed.

Daniel was the first to lose his skeptical expression. "My father died, and I missed him lots. I kept waiting for him to come back."

Jack scuffed the dirt with his boot. "Our pa died, too. But we didn't mind. He were a mean ol' b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Hunter elbowed him. "Language," he commanded.

Jack glanced around. "There's no one to hear but us." He shrugged. "Us uns were glad to be rid of him." His speech reverting to an earlier time before they were adopted, indicated the boy was more distressed then he showed.

Tim sidled a glance at his twin. "But we missed our ma like you missed your pa." He shot a quick look at Ben. "Far worse."

As he remembered the skinny, shabby boys the twins had been, Ben's shame deepened. He knew what Tim meant. The twins' situation had been desperate, far worse than Ben's, for he had his mother and his uncle to care for him and a nice home to live in. They'd had no one and nothing. How could I have tormented them so?

All of them turned to Hunter, who shook his head. "Lost 'em," was all the Indian boy said in a gruff voice.

Ben didn't know Hunter's story. Nor, as far as he'd heard, did anyone else, although perhaps the Indian boy had told his adopted parents what happened to his family. But Ben supposed, given the recent news about how the Indians were starving and how vulnerable they were to the white man's illnesses, he could see losing a whole family. Something I cannot even imagine. His mind shuddered away from the thought of Uncle Caleb and his mother dying and leaving him orphaned.

They all stared at the ground. Five boys who shared the experience of being fatherless.

Ben straightened his shoulders and looked Tim in the eyes, and then at Jack-for the twins were the ones he'd wronged the most. "I'm very sorry for what I did-setting the fires and falsely accusing you. Almost getting you two thrown out of town."

Jack glared. "You've acted like an arrogant jerk ever since."

"Yes," Ben agreed. "A mean arrogant jerk." He made eye contact with Daniel and Hunter.

Daniel held up a finger to insert a point. "Not since Christmas, when you became friends with Matthew Salter. You've been kinda nice since then."

"Thanks." Ben dared a little smile, surprised he felt better-that the burden of shame he carried had lightened, even if it hadn't entirely gone away. "I've been trying to be kinda nice, so I'm glad it shows." He took a breath to finish what he'd started. "I don't ask for forgiveness-can't see that happening. But I've been sorry in here-" he touched his heart "-for a long time."

Christine Thompson, age eleven, came flying over. Her blonde braids bounced on her shoulders, and her blue dress fluttered behind her. "If you're being mean to my brothers, Ben Grayson, then I'm going to tell Mrs. Gordon and my father. He'll whip your f.a.n.n.y."

Jack tugged on her braid, apparently to stop her.

"Ow, Jack!" She swatted him.

Hunter reached over and released Jack's grip on Christine's braid. "Hold your horses, warrior girl. Ben Grayson means your brothers no harm."

She shot Ben a sideways glance, every bit as skeptical as her brothers had been.

Ben looked at her, speculating. At the time he and Arlie had set the fire and accused the twins, the Thompsons hadn't yet become a family. But Christine had already become attached to the boys and Mrs. Rodriguez and had been very distressed when all the boys ran away. "I've just apologized to your brothers for all that happened back when I first moved here. I want to tell you I'm sorry, too."

"About time." She plopped her hands on her waist. "Well." She sniffed, sounding like Mrs. Toffels, the Thompsons' housekeeper. "I suppose that's acceptable."

The boys burst out laughing. "You tell him, sis," said Daniel.

Christine preened.

With the worst part out of the way, Ben needed to focus on his goal. "We'd better get down to business before Mrs. Gordon rings the bell."

Daniel bounced on his toes. "Yah, what did you want with us, anyway?"

"I want to borrow your mother's little horses and the buggy."

"Why?" Daniel crossed his arms over his chest.

"Not for me, for my uncle. I want him to court Mrs. Baxter."

Daniel's slanty eyebrows pulled together. "Who's Mrs. Baxter?"

"She's a widow with a baby who's staying with us. Her husband was killed in an accident. I think she and my uncle are sweet on each other."

Christine's blue eyes were alight with interest. "Did you see them kissin'?"

Daniel scrunched his face. "Eew."

Ben shook his head. "Got to get them to that point first. Those Falabellas are magical or something. And, frankly, my uncle needs all the help he can get."

That brought a laugh from the Thompsons and lessened the tension between them.

Christine tilted her head in apparent thought. "I think that's a good idea."

Ben started to feel hopeful.

Daniel pursed his lips. "Your uncle's pretty big, though. Mama and Pa only go for short rides in the small buggy when the ground is dry and flat. No mud. No gra.s.s."

Ben turned to look at the street, and his spirits sank. Sunny days punctuated the rainy spring weather and started to dry the land. But soon rain or even snow swept in and created mud. "We might have to wait awhile 'til the road is right. I hope that happens in time. "When you ask your mother, tell her I'm wishful that the Falabellas will play cupid, but please do not say anything to Uncle Caleb. I don't think he's figured out how he feels about Mrs. Baxter. He's usually pretty sharp but not this time."

Daniel gave a decisive nod. "I'll ask Mama. I think she'll say yes. She likes when the Falabellas do their-"

"Midget magic," his siblings chorused.

Ben looked at them, puzzled.