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was a little ruffled and trying hard not to be angry.
    â€œYou didn’t need to do that,” he said in a quiet voice. “I can manage on my own.”
    â€œOh, well, thought this was easier,” the driver said so cheerfully that it was hard to dislike him. “What about those canes? You need those, too?”
    Sarah, who had ridden in front with the driver, led us into the house. “All my brothers are on the road, so it ought to be quiet for a change,” she told us over her shoulder. “When they’re here—well, let’s just say it gets a little noisy.”
    I stared around me as we entered the front door, taking in as many details as I could. All the rooms were bigger and grander than the rooms in my mother’s house. Nonetheless, the furniture looked a little worn and much-used, and the colors of the curtains and the sofas were warm and welcoming. It was the sort of house a person would love to come home to, I thought. Nothing at all like my own.
    â€œSarah, is that you and your friends?” a voice called, and then Betsy Parmer came from the back of the house and joined us in the parlor. She looked just like Sarah—big and broad and gentle—except twenty years older and a little heavier. “Is anybody hungry?”
    â€œYes,” Gryffin and I said together.
    Sarah introduced us, and Betsy Parmer shook our hands as if we were important townsfolk, not schoolchildren. “Kellen Carmichael?” she repeated, looking me over a little uncertainly. “You’re one of the boys Sarah knows from school?”
    â€œThat’s right,” I said, but Sarah corrected her.
    â€œOne of the girls.”
    Betsy Parmer raised her eyebrows at me.
    â€œOne of the girls,” I admitted.
    â€œAnd you’ve come to help Sarah with her numbers?”
    â€œNo, I’m not very good at math,” I said breezily. “But I thought—if you had chores to do around the house—I’m pretty good at things. I could work while Gryffin gives lessons to Sarah.”
    I saw Betsy exchange looks with her daughter. “Always plenty to do around here,” she said with a laugh. “Why don’t you come back to the kitchen with me and we’ll see what kind of work we can find.”

Chapter Four
    T he next two months were among the best of my life so far. Autumn was slowly spinning into winter, so the air was crisp and delicious, and the world was drenched in color. My mother, who disliked winter, always grew quieter during this time of year, less unreasonable; it was as if she saved all her strength just for surviving the dark, still season. I had finally settled into school, not just learning key subjects but forming true friendships and learning to avoid the malcontents.
    And there was the Parmer house to go to two or three times a week. Betsy always had food ready for us—yellow cheese, fresh bread, fruit pie, or the occasional more substantial dish. While Sarah and Gryffin studied in the parlor, I worked around the kitchen with the matriarch of the house. She was rather impressed with my range of skills and would put me to work at any task I was willing to undertake. I sewed curtains, darned socks, chopped firewood, weeded the garden, scrubbed the oven, fed the chickens, plucked them if they’d been slaughtered for an evening meal, and did any other chore that presented itself.
    When Sarah’s brothers were home, they filled the house with big bodies and loud laughs and constant conversation, and I found them a little intimidating at first. But, as you might imagine, neither Betsy nor Sarah was the type to tolerate teasing or abuse, so there was nothing to fear from them. They treated me like a younger brother and would ruffle my hair or call me by various nicknames. They treated Gryffin like a rather exotic pet, gingerly but with a certain respect. Josh Parmer was rarely around, for the business took most of his attention, but