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life was inside out.
    The snow hit my cheeks like sharp pins, sticking onto my skin and sending little frozen threads into my heart.
    I pulled back inside and closed the window and all my skin burned and I shook all over like a rabbit in a snare. My room was freezing cold now, and I tugged my yellow shawl tight around my shoulders as I sat on my chair and rocked and shook.
    I reached for the key that hung out of sight round my neck, and I thought about what Pa had said. About San Francisco and that box and what might be in it. It had to be valuable, or else Wilkie wouldn’t have wanted it so bad. Whatever it held, Pa needed it. Choices, Pa’d said.
    Go to San Francisco, and find someone named Ty Wong. I had to go to San Francisco. But how could I make my own way to California—the end of the earth as far as I was concerned. And to find a complete stranger in a huge city to retrieve a box that I hadn’t even known truly existed until now?
    How in heaven was I supposed to manage all that? And what of my life, of my plans? How could I find someone to help me make a safe life for myself in San Francisco, just when Bozeman was starting to become home?
    My teeth were chattering so hard I sounded like a sapsucker on a hollow tree. I went downstairs to seek some warmth.
    Mrs. Gale stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me. On seeing her, prickles rose on my neck and gave me pause. I stopped on the landing with my back to the stained glass.
    “What?” I asked.
    “Someone came by looking for you.”
    I hadn’t been upstairs more than fifteen minutes. I tugged the yellow shawl up to my chin. “Who?”
    “He wore a badge and an unpleasant expression. He said he’d followed your father to Bozeman and had somehow connected your father with me.” Mrs. Gale knew what my pa was. She knew why someone with a badge would be looking for him.
    “Did he know about me? That man?”
    She shook her head. “Not from me. I didn’t invite him in.”
    My legs were so shaky it was like standing near one of the geysers when it erupted.
    “Kula, what’s happened?” Her voice was soft, gentle.
    “Pa. He found my pa. That man arrested Pa on the street. Caleb and I saw.” My suspicious nature slipped as I sank down on the step. “I didn’t try to stop it.”
    Mrs. Gale came to sit on the stair below me, her dress billowing around her.
    “He said Pa killed a man . . . He would never . . .” I blinked, keeping my misery locked up tight. “Pa might be a thief, but he’s not a murderer. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t try to stop them . . .”
    Mrs. Gale placed her hand on mine.
    I didn’t know what was safe to tell her, what to hold back. I still didn’t altogether trust her. I didn’t really trust anyone. And now I wasn’t even sure I could trust my own pa.
    What if he had killed that man? How could I ever forgive him?
    “Can I help?” Mrs. Gale asked.
    I shook my head. “No. Except to release me. I have to leave.” I had to go to San Francisco.
    “Of course.”
    I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Maybe Caleb could take me to the train.”
    She looked puzzled. “I can arrange that. But Kula . . .” She hesitated. “Running away won’t help.”
    I yanked my hand out from under hers. Anger pushed the words right out of me before I could stop myself. “I’m not running away. Pa needs me to go to San Francisco.”
    She sat back, her eyebrows up. “Really.”
    I nodded. I picked at the edge of the shawl. “Pa said. Go to San Francisco.”
    She pursed her lips. “I was born there.”
    This was news. “What’s it like?”
    “A busy seaport. There are many diversions, and not a few dangers. Especially for a girl traveling alone. Why must you go to San Francisco?”
    I put my head down, resting my forehead on my folded arms. I spoke into my arms. “To find something of my pa’s.” Because Pa told me I must. Maybe it would help him. But I didn’t say this; I didn’t want to tell her more.
    She asked,