For the first time since Ottaline was struck, that night there were four at the dinner table. She had also relented and moved downstairs to make things easier on everyone else. Soup was simple but also the only thing Providence thought she could make well.

Granville and Idris mostly talked about man things so the sisters stayed in their own conversation.

"...map the tunnels."

The words caught the girls' attention and they looked at Mr. Idris.

"What if Richmond catches you down there?" Granville asked. "He'll wonder how you found out."

"I'll just have to make sure I don't get caught," Idris said. "The girls say they only followed one tunnel that led below the house but what of all the others they saw? If the Richmonds have been smuggling gold then I bet that's how."

"But we've been up and down the beach and we've never seen any tunnels," Providence said.

"But you never saw them in the cemetery either." Idris said. "Esau Richmond is right about one thing. His family does run this town, but without their booty they can't do it?"

"What are you getting at, Idris?" Granville asked.

"Ottaline first put the idea in my head when she asked me once how the Richmond's make their money," Idris said. "Then I started wondering why all of a sudden he's buying up inexpensive land and wanting to demolish his wood."

"And?" Granville asked.

"They are going broke."

"Broke?" Granville gasped. "Impossible. They have wealth as deep as the sea."

"Had," Idris said. "But money doesn't last forever. I've seen his books and noticed a lot of heavy spending in the past few years alone. They want to give the image of having everything together but they don't. It's like an egg, perfectly smooth on the outside but when you crack it open...a mess."

"The fool," Granville scoffed. "They really did count their chickens before they hatched. And all those years of paying me to stay inside this house."

"You have contributed to their downfall in more ways than one," Idris said. "Now we all know how the Richmond's operate. They won't be destitute. They will do whatever it takes to keep their family name on top."

Granville's eyes went wide. "My God, you don't think they'll target another merchant ship do you?"

Idris looked grave. "If it ain't broke..."

Silence consumed the room as Providence looked around the table. History was repeating itself. Mrs. Madeline St. Cloud had been a child when she left Drinking Water but she still remembered the horrible things that happened there and was too afraid to return, but her husband was here. Mr. and Mrs. and Brigit Heritage had stood up against the Richmonds and nearly ruined them. They were all dead but their son and brother was here. Her mother Catherine Sabbath and her father John Sabbath had refused to obey their whims and both had been killed for it, but their daughters were still here. They were all here and they were about to do the same things.

"It could get dangerous," Providence said softly.

"We'll need a plan," Idris said. "We'll need list of all merchant...no all ships that pass this port and for good measure anywhere near here."

"I could do that," Granville said. "We'll also need to plan ahead in case we are found out and need to leave. It can't hurt to have a little extra food stored away."

"I can get that!" Providence said. "No one will suspect my shopping."

Granville nodded.

Ottaline looked around the table at everyone making plans. "What can I do?" she asked above their voices.

"Ottaline you can sit back comfortably and stay safe," Granville said. "You need time to heal."

Ottaline looked down with a sigh. "I've finished eating," she said. "I think I'll go and get ready for bed." She rolled back from the table.

"I'll help you," Providence said jumping up quickly. She helped her sister get the wheelchair over the rug and pushed it into the hall. "Are you upset Mr. Heritage won't let you help?"

"No," Ottaline said, surprising her sister. "I have plans of my own."

"What sort of plans?" Providence asked.

"Classified information," Ottaline said with a toss of her head. "After all I am a detective."

Providence wheeled her into the bedroom. "Well you better be careful," she said. "Ishmael Richmond didn't do you like he intended."

Ottaline wheeled herself over to the vanity. She took her hair out of braids and proceeded to brush the tight tangles and hum to herself.

"You really won't tell me?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," Ottaline said.

Providence sat down on the bed. "Will you be all right sleeping down here alone?"

Ottaline turned around. "You mean you won't join me?"

"I like it better upstairs." Providence said. "I feel safer too."

"Oh," Ottaline said. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I won't be down here alone," Ottaline said turning back to the mirror.

A sound like a whistle blown passed over the house followed by a loud pop and another pop.

Providence frowned at the ceiling. "What is that?" There was a knock on the door and she quickly answered it. "Mr. Idris is that fireworks?"

"Yes, they whole town is aglow you must see it!" Idris said. He went over to Ottaline in the wheelchair and carried her upstairs. The four of them went out on the hall balcony and looked towards town at the colorful light show. Idris propped Ottaline up on the railing and Providence stood by her side.

"What is it for?" Ottaline asked.

"I don't know," Idris said. "Maybe someone got their calendar wrong."

"Maybe," Providence said.

"It's beautiful," Ottaline sighed. "They've never looked so beautiful to me before. I remember once when I asked my daddy what stars were and he said they are the lanterns of heaven. Lanterns, carried by angels so they could see and protect little girls like me. It sounds silly to look at it that way now but seeing them and seeing this...it just makes me remember I am alive." As she watched the show she confirmed in her head that she would go forth with her own plan. She would walk again. She would dance again.

/

From outside with the rabbits, Ottaline could hear the folk music playing on the gramophone that Mr. Heritage had received from his cousin. She and Providence had both taken a liking to folk dancing since they had been at Heritage Hill. Especially Providence in her German folk dress the Dresslers had made.

Today everyone else had gone out. Mr. Heritage and Mr. Idris were in town as far as she knew and Providence had gone to watch the dancers at the blue house and to see what was becoming of the area they used to live in. She knew her sister would give her a report when she got back and she would beg her not to leave out any details.

Outside on the porch now, she listened to the chickens pecking and watched an insect burrow waiting for one of the song birds to swoop down and claim a late lunch. She wheeled to the corner of the porch and placed her hands on smoothly sanded railing. Placing her feet firmly on the ground she gripped the railing until the color fled out of her palms then she hoisted herself up.

With strained effort she scooted down the porch until the wheelchair was no longer behind her. Turning her back to the rail she focused on the opened back door. Taking a deep breath she stepped forward. Her legs wobbled like saplings but she scooted out another foot. With her arms out in front of her she forced another step. A rustle in the chicken coop distracted her mind and she tumbled down on the planks.

Pain shot through her elbows but her chin avoided contact with the blue tinted wood. Upset over her failure she rolled over on her back and looked at the chicken coop. All of the birds were roosted atop the henhouse clucking madly. A rustle in the cage behind her made her look at the rabbits who were both huddled in one corner.

When she heard growling she whipped her head around to the steps and a scream caught in her throat. The bull mastiff stared at her with hard amber eyes and a tight jaw. "No," she whimpered scooting back toward the door. "Please."

The dog barked, opened its large mouth that could easily fit her head inside. Ottaline screamed sending the rabbits hopping and the chickens fluttering. The dog turned at the sound of the chickens briefly before deciding which pray to take. He leapt up on the porch and with a BANG fell flat.

Ottaline stared at the heap of muscle and fur then looked back at the frightened rabbits. What had happened?

"Are you all right, Ottaline?"

Ottaline turned to the door and saw Mr. Idris standing there with a gun. She looked back at the dog and made the connection. She reached up her arms and Idris picked her up and returned her to the wheelchair.

"It's all right it can't hurt you now," he said. "What were you doing out here."

"I took a step," Ottaline said. She wanted to sound proud of herself but she was too shook up. "Are you sure it's dead?"

Idris went over to the dog and nudged its paw with his boot. "Yeah, it's dead," he said. "Looks like it may have eaten someone's goose though."

Ottaline leaned over in her chair. "Ain't that Mr. Richmond's dog?"

"Looks like it," Idris said.

"But you killed it."

"So I did."

"He'll be cross."

"Anyone would have done the same thing with children and livestock around." Idris explained. "He'll never know who it was. I'll bury it in the field and we'll see how our kitsune does with eight tails." He took the handles of her chair and wheeled her back inside. In the hall he stopped and leaned down. "And I won't tell Mr. Heritage that you tried to walk on your own."

Ottaline gulped and nodded her head. She felt like she was causing more trouble than she was worth.

/

The hammering of men echoed through the trees as Providence sat behind a bush next to Bach watching the frames of buildings going up. One was mostly complete and now it only awaited windows, doors and a proper exterior. This one stood where their home once did. The beaten path, the two trees that their laundry once dried between the proud oaks...these were all gone. She hardly recognized the place.

Rumor was that Mr. Richmond planned to equip his buildings with electricity and running water. Only the best would be able to afford such luxuries. He would be rich and he would stay rich. Still it cost money to build such things and knowing where that money might have come from turned her stomach. It truly was blood gold.

"It won't be forever now, Bach," she said to the elk. "Justice gonna hear us and sing out." She petted his flank then mounted him. "Not too much longer now, I just know it." She nudged him forward and they slipped into the woods unseen.

/

Providence found Ottaline sitting in the parlor with a book when she got home. She had two stacks next to her and a statue of a dog. "Where did all of this come from?"

"Mr. Heritage suddenly got a hankering to go through the attic. He's donating all of this but he said I could keep this copy of poems."

Providence picked up a book and turned it over. "This is a medical book," she said. "It talks all about good medicine to find if you are lost in the wilderness."

"If you ask him he'll let you keep it," Ottaline said. "I think he's hoping to find more clues about his sister up there. He said they used to use it as a clubhouse."

"It is rather sudden that he is doing this," Providence said.

Ottaline shrugged. "He walked through the door looking very determined," she said. "I think he has another plan."

"Speaking of plans, what happened to yours?" Providence asked and Ottaline looked down.

"Never mind it," she said. She tucked the book into the corner of the chair and wheeled out the room. "I'd better get dinner started."

"Let me help you."

"It is really no bother," Ottaline said. "I can manage." She smiled over her shoulder and Providence decided to let her go.

She made her way up into the attic. Everything was very neatly placed and a curtain hung a few feet from the farthest wall. A runner went straight up to it and fake flowers were in brown pots on either side. It looked like the entrance to a tiny house.

"Mr. Heritage?"

The curtain shifted and slid open on its rod. Granville poked his head out. "I see you're back," he said picking up a cedar box from by his feet and putting it into his lap. "Ottaline will be starting supper soon did you see if she needed any help?"

"She said she could manage," Providence said crossing the spacious attic. Despite many things taking occupancy there the floor was largely clear. She could tell that someone spent a lot of time up here or used to. She slowly joined him on the other side of the curtain where a little wooden stool waited.

"This was our little house," Granville explained. "All of it was Brigit's idea. I know she didn't always wish to play with me but she made time. We would sit up here for hours on end...that's why I think they're may be something here that can help us."

Providence looked around. "I've realized that the dead have been helping the living very much in this. My mama, Mr. Arnold's daughter, Miss Brigit...they all left clues. Have you found anything?"

Granville sighed. "Just a bunch of old notes we used to pass to each other and games we used to play. He pulled out a photograph from among the collection of letters and post cards. "These are all hers. And this is she." He passed the photograph to Providence.

Providence looked at the two young people in the picture. Both were dressed like Indians though the girl looked sour. She laughed.

"Brigit hated doing that picture," Granville said. "She didn't want people talking about our heritage. The only thing white about her were her eyes unlike me. I didn't mind it at all but maybe that is because I didn't have to live with looking different."

Providence looked up at Granville. Ordinarily she would have seen a white man but there were traces that would make one question and wonder if he was at least Latin. "You were like us, you and you sister," she said. "You were like Ottaline and me."

Granville smiled. "I never noticed," he said nodding slowly. "But I promise your future will be better."

"Yours can too," Providence said. "Your life isn't over." She looked out the curtain at the attic and its ceiling. Up here the house truly showed its age. "These floors would be good for dancing." She got up and walked to the center and danced a few steps. She stumbled on a lose board and lost her balance. "Well almost," she said breathlessly.

Granville looked around the attic. "You're welcome to come up here all you want." he said getting up and stepping from behind the curtain. "My house is your house."

Providence watched as a far off look came to his face. She wondered what time in his life his mind had taken him to visit.