“Wondered as much. Never seen you on a horse. So Mr. Guisler is going to lend you his old companion horse, Patch. He’s a little heavy but sweet as anything, won’t scare you none. He knows what he’s doing and he’ll go at your pace.”

“I can’t ride,” Izzy said, an edge to her voice. She looked mutinously at her mother.

“That’s only because you won’t try, dear,” her mother said, not looking at her. She clasped her hands together. “So what time shall we come by tomorrow? Izzy, we’ll have to take you to Lexington to get you some new breeches. You’ve eaten your way right out of your old ones.”

“Well, Alice here saddles up at seven, so why don’t you come then? We may start a little earlier as we divide up our routes.”

“You’re not listening to me—” Izzy began.

“We’ll see you tomorrow.” Mrs. Brady looked around her at the little cabin. “It’s good to see what a start you’ve made already. I hear from Pastor Willoughby that the McArthur girls read their way through their Bible samplers without so much as a prompt from him last Sunday, thanks to the books you’ve brought them. Wonderful. Good afternoon, Mrs. Van Cleve, Miss O’Hare. I’m much obliged to the pair of you.”

Mrs. Brady nodded and the two women turned and made their way out of the library. They heard the roar of the car’s engine as it started up, then a skidding sound and a startled shout as Mrs. Brady pulled out onto the road.

Alice looked at Margery, who shrugged. They sat in silence until the sound of the engine died away.

* * *

• • •

Bennett.” Alice skipped up to the stoop, where her husband was sitting with a glass of iced tea. She glanced at the rocker, which was unusually empty. “Where’s your father?”

“Having dinner with the Lowes.”

“Is that the one who never stops talking? Goodness, he’ll be there all night. I’m amazed Mrs. Lowe can draw breath long enough to eat!” She pushed her hair back from her brow. “Oh, I have had the most extraordinary day. We went to a house in the middle of absolutely nowhere and I swear this man wanted to shoot us. He didn’t, of course—”

She slowed, noting the way his eyes had dropped to her dirty boots. Alice looked down at them and the mud on her breeches. “Oh. That. Yes. Misjudged where I should have been going through a creek and my horse stumbled and threw me straight over her head. It was actually very funny. I thought at one point Margery was going to pass out from laughing. Luckily I dried off in a wink, although just wait until you see my bruises. I am positively purple.” She jogged up the steps to him and stooped to kiss him but he turned his face away.

“You smell awfully of horse, these days,” he said. “Maybe you should wash that off. It does tend to . . . linger.”

She was sure he hadn’t meant it to sting, but it did. She sniffed at her shoulder. “You’re right,” she said, forcing a smile. “I smell like a cowboy! I tell you what, how about I freshen up and put on something pretty and then perhaps we could take a drive to the river. I could make us a little picnic of nice things. Didn’t Annie leave some of that molasses cake? And I know we still have the side of ham. Say yes, darling. Just you and me. We haven’t had a proper outing together for weeks.”

Bennett rose from his chair. “Actually, I’m—uh—going to meet some of the fellas for a game. I was just waiting for you to come home so I could tell you.” He stood in front of her and she realized he was wearing the white trousers he used for sport. “We’re headed to the playing field over at Johnson.”

“Oh. Fine, then. I’ll come and watch. I promise I won’t take a minute to scrub up.”

He rubbed his palm over the top of his head. “It’s kind of a guy thing. The wives don’t really come.”

“I wouldn’t say anything, Bennett darling, or bother you.”

“That’s not really the point—”

“I just would love to see you play. You look so . . . joyful when you play.”

The way his gaze flickered toward her and away told her she had said too much. They stood in silence for a moment.

“Like I said. It’s a guy thing.”

Alice swallowed. “I see. Another time, then.”

“Sure!” Released, he looked suddenly happy. “A picnic would be great. Maybe we can get some of the other fellows to come too. Pete Schrager? You liked his wife, didn’t you? Patsy’s fun. You and she will become real friends, I know it.”

“Oh. Yes. I suppose so.”

They stood awkwardly in front of each other for a moment longer. Then Bennett reached out a hand, and leaned forward as if to kiss her. But this time it was Alice who stepped back. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to. Goodness, I do reek! Awful! How can you bear it?”

She backed away, then turned and ran up the steps two at a time so that he couldn’t see her eyes had filled with tears.

* * *

• • •

Alice’s days had settled into something of a routine since she had started work. She would rise at 5:30 a.m., wash and dress in the little bathroom along the hall (she was grateful for it, as she had swiftly become aware that half the homes in Baileyville still had “outhouses”—or worse). Bennett slept like someone dead, barely stirring as she pulled on her boots, and she would lean over and kiss his cheek lightly, then tiptoe downstairs. In the kitchen she would retrieve the sandwiches she had made the evening before, grab a couple of the “biscuits” that Annie left out on the sideboard, wrap them in a napkin, and eat them as she walked the half-mile to the library. Some of the faces she passed on her walk had become familiar: farmers on their horse-drawn buggies, lumber lorries making their way toward the huge yards, and the odd miner who had overslept, his lunch pail in his hand. She had begun to nod to the people she recognized—people in Kentucky were so much more civil than they were in England, where you were likely to be viewed with suspicion if you greeted a stranger in too friendly a manner. A couple had started to call out across the road to her: How’s that library going? And she would respond: Oh, quite well, thank you. They always smiled, though sometimes she suspected they spoke to her because they were amused by her accent. Either way it was nice to feel she was becoming part of something.

Occasionally she would pass Annie walking briskly, head down, on her way to the house—to her shame, she wasn’t sure where the housekeeper lived—and she would wave cheerily, but Annie would simply nod, unsmiling, as if Alice had transgressed some unspoken rule in the employer-employee handbook. Bennett, she knew, would rise only after Annie arrived at the house, woken with coffee on a tray, Annie having already taken the same to Mr. Van Cleve. By the time the two men were dressed, the bacon, eggs and grits would be waiting for them on the dining table, the cutlery set just so. At a quarter to eight they would head off in Mr. Van Cleve’s burgundy Ford convertible sedan, to Hoffman Mining.