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escaped back to the seclusion of the elm tree and dropped down beside the trunk, her chest heaving more from anger at Papa and shame over her tears than from running. At least she didn’t have to admit Papa had abandoned her. If Gideon knew what a worthless person she was, he likely wouldn’t be so kind to her.
    Despite her humiliation, her stomach still complained of its emptiness. She unwrapped the hunk of cheese and broke off a few small bits. It wouldn’t do to eat too much. The cheese and crackers would have to feed her for a few days, at least until she could find employment.
    She nibbled slowly to stretch out her mealtime as long as possible. She closed her eyes and imagined the fragrance of warm yeast bread fresh from the oven and savory roast beef with tender potatoes and carrots. If she played this game of imagination each time she ate a bit of cracker or cheese, her mind might convince her she wasn’t as hungry as she thought.
    The lengthening afternoon shadows indicated there wasn’t much daylight left. She couldn’t impose on Mrs. Dunnigan again. The canopy of branches overhead would be her roof tonight, and the underbrush would serve as her walls.
    Dread washed over her at the prospect of spending the night outside and alone, at the mercy of whomever and whatever might be lurking in the darkness. But if Mama was right, God would spend the night with her.

Chapter 3
    T essa grunted as she pushed Mama’s cabinet between the fat tree trunk and a dense juniper. Tangled underbrush snagged her sleeve as she dragged the crate across a patch of thorny weeds. The heavier trunk required all her strength to shove into a position where the shadows of the big tree and the thick juniper and yew bushes concealed it from anyone who happened by.
    Straightening, she scrutinized her hiding place. Anyone milling around the livery at the edge of town was unlikely to see her through the brush. It was the best she could do.
    The descending sun marked the signal for most of the businesses in town to close their doors. Most, but not all. Down the main street at the center of town, the Willow Creek Hotel with its fine brick facade attracted a steady stream of people coming and going.
    Boisterous clamor increased at the saloon. A shudder rippled through her when she imagined the amount of whiskey consumed there each night and its effect on the families of the men who patronized the place.
    Tessa wrapped the remains of her dinner in the store paper. When she opened the door of Mama’s cabinet to tuck her provisions into a safe place, the Bible she’d hugged earlier begged to be picked up. Why, she didn’t know. What could God possibly have to say to her? Still, perhaps reading the same words Mama read might offer comfort.
    She extracted a tattered quilt pieced from flour sack scraps from the trunk and arranged a makeshift pallet under the broad limbs of the elm. She peered around the juniper boughs, searching for signs of snakes then made herself as comfortable as possible and opened the Bible. The waning light fell on the pages of the Psalms. Mama’s favorites were dog-eared and underlined. Extra marks by the verses of Psalm 27 indicated Mama found solace in them.
    With the book positioned to use all the light available, she began to read what her mother found comforting. One verse spoke of hiding her in the time of trouble. Did that mean God would conceal her from prying eyes during the night? She read another verse.
    “Leave me not, neither forsake me, O God of my salvation.”
    Was God aware that she was alone and frightened, hiding in the bushes like some kind of animal? Did He know about the fear knotting her stomach as the noise from the saloon built to a raucous din? In the dim glow of the final ray of light, she held up the book and squinted at the next verse.
    “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the L ORD will take me up.”
    The Bible slipped from her grasp and fell to her lap. Mama always said God kept