My students do well. Jasper has a good touch, Olive has a good eye, and Andy has a good time. He splashes in the water and chases fish and cheers every time his sister or the doctor announces another find.

Jefferson and Hampton are exploring along the creek, trailed by the dogs, marking off claims for everybody in our group, and of course they want my advice. So I leave Jasper and Olive to pan, and Andy runs up and down the bank with me while we pick out good spots. I try to listen not just for the gold song coming from the water, but also for the deeper hum stretching back into the banks. I help Hampton choose the richest spot for his border of string—he’s got freedom to buy and family to reclaim from down south.

We’re tying off string at the edge of Hampton’s claim when I notice Jefferson staring at me. “You don’t have to watch my eyes,” I grumble. “When I sense gold, I’ll tell you straight.”

“That’s not why I’m looking,” he replies, and Hampton fails to keep the grin from his face.

I hightail it out of there and return to Jasper, who has two hands full of tiny nuggets. He’s staring at them, eyes wide.

“A few ounces,” I say. “Not bad for half a morning’s work.”

He holds out both hands. “Pick one—it’s your half.”

“Keep it all,” I say. “Jefferson and Hampton say this stretch is going to be your claim. That’s Tom and Henry’s claims, right adjacent, so you can work them all together. I was supposed to be teaching you, and it seems like you’ve been taught.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are your feet wet?”

Jasper laughs and pours all the gold into one hand. He picks out the largest nugget and calls to Olive. “Here you go, partner. For your all your hard work.”

She takes it reverently and holds it like it’s a hummingbird’s fragile egg.

“Where’s mine?” Andy says. “I helped, too.”

“I’ve got yours right here,” Jasper says, and he gives me a wink as he hands another tiny stone to the boy.

For a moment, I am happy, maybe the happiest I’ve been since Uncle Hiram murdered my parents and stole my life from me. I have sunlight on my face, and the siren call of gold singing under my skin. I’m with family again, my real family now, whatever the law says, and I’m doing something I’m good at.

“I’m cold,” says Olive.

“Let’s get you back to your ma and dried off,” I say. Jasper gathers our tools and whistles a tune as we head downstream. When we come within sight of camp, Andy takes off running.

“Ma! We found gold!” he hollers. His trousers are soaked through, his right leg slathered in mud up to his knee.

Becky jumps up from the table, the one that made it here all the way from Chattanooga. Her red-checked tablecloth is spread across it just so, the corners perfectly aligned, and a vase full of purple alpine rises from the center. It’s like God dropped a tiny tavern right into the middle of the wilderness.

Sitting at the table is a stranger.

My hand flies to the five-shooter at my hip. The man sits across from Becky, scooping up half-burned flapjacks like they’re manna from heaven. Crumbs cling to his wild gray beard. Becky holds the fussing baby to her chest like a shield.

“Hush, Andy,” I whisper. “Say no more about the gold.”

“Okay, Lee,” Andy whispers back. Olive slips her hand into mine. I glance around for the Major, who was supposed to be keeping watch.

“This gentleman is Mr. Tuggle,” Becky says smoothly, though I know her well enough to note the wariness in her eyes and the carefulness of her speech. “He paid me two dollars for a plate of flapjacks.”

“And a mighty fine breakfast it was, ma’am!” he exclaims. “The best flapjacks I ever had.”

Olive and I exchange a baffled glance. The bearded man is either daft or deceitful, because Becky Joyner is the worst cook in the whole wide West.

He wipes his mouth with one of Becky’s embroidered napkins, then rises from the table and stretches out his hand to shake. “Just call me Old Tug,” he says. “And your name, mister?”

“It’s . . .” I almost say my last name, Westfall, but I don’t want to make it any easier for folks to connect me with my uncle. “Lee. Miss Lee.”

His gaze darts down to my trousers, then up to my chin-length hair. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Lee. You’ll have to forgive me. We don’t much get the pleasure of gentler company in these parts.” His skin is craggy and weathered, his nose peeling from the sun. His riotous gray beard nearly covers a smile only half full of brownish teeth.

I’m about to retort that my company is anything but gentle when I sense someone at my shoulder. I turn and am relieved to see Jasper. “This is Jasper Clapp,” I tell Old Tug. “He’s our doctor. Most of our other menfolk are about their chores, but I expect them back any moment.”

“I see.” Which I hope means Old Tug got the message; we are not alone and helpless out here.

“Where are you headed, Old Tug?” I ask.

“Not sure yet. Looking for a place to stake a good claim.”

“If you head back to the river and point your boots east, you’ll see plenty of good prospecting land.”

“I was thinking this might be a good place.”

Major Craven materializes at the tree line, swinging forward on his crutch and cradling an armful of Becky’s dishes. He must have taken them to the creek to wash. “Sorry, sir,” he calls out cheerfully. “But every parcel within view has been claimed already.”

Old Tug frowns, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t say.” His voice does not match the one I heard when Jefferson was shot, but he could easily be one of the silent claim jumpers who shot through the trees.

The Major stacks the dishes beside the fire pit. “We wouldn’t mind having some good neighbors, though. Be happy to show you a few promising spots that haven’t been claimed yet.”

I stare at him. Has he gone mad?

Becky bends over to clear away Old Tug’s dishes. “Indeed, sir,” she says with her sweetest smile. “We could do with some company on occasion. Wouldn’t be right to let go the finer tenets of civilization just because we’re out in the wilderness.”

Old Tug stands from the table, revealing a ragged hole in the knee of his trousers. “I couldn’t agree more, ma’am.” He flips his hat onto his head. “Mind if I come back tomorrow morn? Might bring another fellow or two.”