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stayed for Mercy’s sake. He knew she didn’t want him there, but folks often resented a physician’s presence because it underscored problems they wanted to deny. She might seek care from him still; he’d discovered that in the dark of night, folks sometimes could ask a doctor things they couldn’t speak of in daylight.
    He’d set a pot of coffee on to boil after he tucked the boy in for the night. Sickened by the violence these people had suffered, Rob hadn’t bothered to eat. Grumbling in his stomach now made him lift the towel draped over a pan. The yeasty smell drifted up to him as he gazed at the dough that had risen and finally fallen flat. Fried in a dab of bacon grease, such dough still gave an empty belly satisfaction.
    The scents of fried bread and coffee filled the house. Robert sat down at the table and ate by the light of that single lantern until a faint creak made him look up.
    Still wearing her calico dress and clutching a shawl about her, Mercy slipped out of her own room and directly into the other bedchamber.
    Robert walked to the doorway and whispered, “Peter’s been sleeping like a bear. Your grandfather woke about an hour and a half ago. He knew where he was. He’s able to move his leg and wiggle his toes—both excellent signs. I expect him to make a full recovery.”
    “I’ll watch over them. You should go.”
    “I’ve no doubt you’d hover like a guardian angel if you had the chance, but ’tisn’t necessary. I’m stuck here. I’ve no horse, and even if I did, I couldn’t find my way back to town since I just arrived today. After I change the dressing on his leg in the morning, I’ll leave.”
    She pulled the shawl more closely about her shoulders.
    “You’ve yet to slumber, and you need your rest. I’ve powders in my bag that will help you fall asleep.”
    “No, thank you.”
    Robert grudgingly admitted to himself that Mercy shared a trait of his own—she knew her mind and stuck to her plans. Often, that perseverance paid off, but in this case, her stubbornness resulted in needless suffering. He decided it wasn’t worth arguing with her. If anything, she needed to feel she’d regained control—however simple or slight it might be.
    “Forgive me, Miss Stein. You’re barefoot and likely catching a chill whilst I natter away the night. I’ll go back to my coffee. If you’d like, I can pour you a cup.”
    “I’ll retire.” Though she stated her plan, she made no move to carry it out.
    Robert turned and went back to the table. So that was the way of it. She’d refused to brush past him to leave the room. He couldn’t fault her for being skittish; she had just cause to be wary—extremely wary. He’d have to earn her trust, and from this encounter, he reckoned it would take a good long while.

    Mercy woke and promised herself it was just a bad dream, but that false hope disappeared the minute she rolled out of bed and hurt all over. Deep purple-black ringed her left eye, and she turned away from the mirror as she pinned her braid into a bun.
    The door to Grossvater’s room stood open. A quick peek reassured her that he and Peter still slept soundly. Usually, Grossvater would be stirring, if not up by now. Knowing how he’d chafe at being kept in bed, Mercy hoped he’d sleep late.
    She tiptoed past the doctor, too. He’d fallen asleep with his head resting on his folded arms at the dining table. The settee in the parlor was far too short for a man of his height to stretch out on. Just seeing him made her balk. She’d need to speak to him before Grossvater woke up. Would he honor her request to keep what happened from Grossvater?
    Otto
. Surely Otto wouldn’t tell anyone. He’d shelter her from the humiliation of others knowing the full truth of what had happened. He’d responded to her screams and come—too late to stop the worst—but Otto knew what happened and killed that awful man.
I’m glad he’s dead. Glad. He can’t come back to hurt me