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twice in the same evening, she’d dusted the parlor furniture three times in a row, and boiled a second pot of potatoes for supper before realizing that the first was already growing cold in a flowered bowl on the table.
    A telegram followed shortly after the first letter, telling her precisely what day and time Riley’s train would arrive in Powell Springs. But this message, like the letter, gave her little hint of what to expect. And she had plenty of questions. They buzzed around in her mind like bees trapped in a jar.
    Amnesia…What exactly did Riley remember and what had he forgotten? She’d talked to a few people who had nearly died during the influenza epidemic and couldn’t remember anything about their illness. They barely had a memory of being sick. The time lost was just a blank. Was Riley like that? Of course, he’d remember his family, but maybe he’d forgotten his childhood, or being a soldier.
    The letter indicated that his physical wounds still troubled him, but didn’t reveal what had happened to him or how serious they were. Lots of men had been maimed or disfigured in battle.She’d heard gruesome, hair-raising stories that could have come straight from someone’s nightmares. Some were so fantastic, they were impossible to believe—a man had lost his face. How could a man lose his face and survive?
    How would Riley react to the news that she had remarried? She didn’t really know what Tanner thought. Every time she’d tried to bring up the subject, he had managed to steer her away from it.
    Oh, she had lots of questions. But she knew she was still married to Tanner—she had to be.
    The day before Riley’s train was to arrive, she pushed her Bissell sweeper over the parlor carpet and heard Shaw’s stumping gait coming down the hall.
    “Haven’t you finished mowing that rug yet?” he demanded from the doorway. His baggy dungarees were held up by one suspender strap, and stiff, silvery bristles frosted his jaw. Tough old geezer that he was, she’d sometimes thought she could probably grate nutmeg on those whiskers. “I’ve been trying to take a nap upstairs, and all I can hear is that infernal contraption.”
    “Oh, dear, I’m sorry,” she said, and looked at the sweeper. Glancing up at the mantel clock, she realized she’d done it again—she’d been working at this task for forty-five minutes and hadn’t noticed. “I guess I lost track of the time. I’d better get supper started.”
    He limped into the room and dropped heavily into his rocker. “Aw, that’s all right,” he conceded, waving a gnarled hand in her direction. “I imagine you’re all in a dither about your husband coming home tomorrow.”
    “My husband is home. He’s out in the paddock with the boys.”
    “I don’t think so, sister. You’re married to Riley till death parts you. He ain’t dead no more, so your marriage is back on. Thathired hand will just have to move along. Your deal with him is over.” He rocked his chair back and forth, the cane seat creaking like his joints.
    Susannah stared at the old man. She knew his resentment about her remarriage had been simmering since the day they announced their engagement. “It is not —”
    “Well, it is, and if you keep carrying on with Grenfell, you’re committing adultery.” He spoke with such obstinate authority and satisfaction, her heart began pounding against its cage of ribs.
    She dropped the handle of the carpet sweeper and it hit the floor with a dull thud. “You don’t know that!”
    He speeded up the pace of his rocker. “I know plenty. Only a fool lives more than seventy years without learning a thing or two.”
    She wasn’t so sure about that. He seemed to have lived a long time without learning much at all, especially when it came to his dealings with people. “Don’t you think Mr. Mumford would have said something before agreeing to perform the ceremony if it wasn’t legal?”
    “Bah, Mumford. He’s an idiot. God is his trade,