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settling on Charles Highbottom, a local dairy farmer with enough income to buy the fancy hats and gowns she favored.
    The girls, aged five and eight, ran to Grandmum while ten-year-old Freddie went straight to his grandpapa.
    Darcy’s father broke into a wide smile. “How’s my Frederick? Find any treasures lately?”
    Ordinarily shy Freddie dug in his pocket and extracted a handful of dusty baubles, which he dumped on the table.
    “Let’s see what we have here.” Papa bent over the treasures while Freddie explained where he found each one.
    Meanwhile, Mum doled out one piece of taffy to each girl. Darcy pushed aside her plate, appetite gone. Amelia was the pretty one, the smart one, the good one. She knew how to carry herself. She knew her place. Darcy had heard the comparisons all her life.
    “Papa.” Amelia tugged off her gloves in irritation. “I have news. Are you listening?”
    Papa looked up from the army of treasures. “Darcy, do you remember that bear claw I gave you? Wouldn’t that be a fine thing for young Frederick?”
    Darcy’s mouth dropped open. The bear claw? Papa had given it to her. That claw was his prize, taken from the grizzly bear he killed years ago on his grand adventure. Give it to Freddie? He’d only ruin it.
    “Papa!” Amelia stomped her foot.
    “Forgive your father, dearest,” said Mum. “He’s partial to his grandson. Dermott?” Mum managed to capture Papa’s attention. “Your daughter has something to tell you.”
    Amelia’s porcelain complexion had turned faintly pink. “It’s terrible timing, what with Charles having to sign up for the draft tomorrow, but that can’t be helped. You’re going to have another grandchild.”
    Mum and Papa stared, dumbfounded.
    “I thought you didn’t want any more children,” Darcy said.
    Amelia hugged her gloves to her chest. “Well, Papa? Aren’t you pleased?”
    “Oh, my dearest Amelia,” Mum gushed. “We are. Of course we are. It’s just that it’s such a surprise.”
    Papa rose, brushing crumbs from his gray waistcoat. “Amelia, my dear. Good job.” He enveloped her in a hug.
    “Congratulations,” Darcy said, though an unreasonable peevishness smothered any true celebration. Marry. Have children. Would nothing else please her parents?
    “Good girl.” Papa beamed, pride elevating him an extra inch. “Let’s make it another boy.”
    Another boy. There were more important things than having babies. Any woman could bear children, but precious few had the nerve to travel to the ends of the earth. Tears stung Darcy’s lids as she slipped out of the house. She would make her mark. She would do something no one had ever done before. Yes, she would.
     
    Extricating Jack Hunter from the blind pig, or illegal saloon, had seemed like a good and noble idea at the time, but as Darcy approached the drugstore’s back door, the nerves set in. Her hands sweated, and she shivered in the cool evening air. She hadn’t exactly told Papa she’d be going here.
    Since the state had gone dry two years ago, Vanesia Lawrence had run her saloon out of the back of the drugstore. Papa called it the blight on the apple of Pearlman, but his opposition hadn’t begun with prohibition. He had drilled the evils of drink into Amelia and Darcy from an early age, their Aunt Meg, who’d married a drunk, serving as his primary example.
    Now Darcy stood at the door of a saloon, calling on a man, a drinking man, a man she barely knew. If Papa found out,he’d yank her home by the ears and never let her step outside again.
    Dark and damp descended on the narrow alley, trapping the smells of rotted cabbage and horse dung between the brick buildings. Darcy hesitated outside the plain wood door, gathering her courage.
    “Shouldn’t be here,” Simmons muttered.
    He was right, of course, but Darcy couldn’t back down now, not when she stood this close to her dream. She turned the cold iron knob. The door didn’t budge. “It’s locked.”
    “Good, we