Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. . ’ ‘Uh-oh,’ came from her infuriating suitor and his eyes dropped to the weapon she was dragging from the holster under her petticoat. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. She was going through a new world with him side by side. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. ‘Parbleu, I hope that I do not have many more times to come in this way to the house,’ she muttered fretfully. “They ought to have been lopped in the spring. Twenty-one, twenty-two.
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