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at the little girl at her side, she rubbed her temple where a headache had suddenly lodged. “This is Rosita.”
    “I want my house.” Rosita hung back, burying her face in Kat’s skirt. “I want my mama.”
    “Oh, honey, I want my mama too.” Hattie rushed into the dining room, carrying a pink tureen with steam rising from it. “And my stars, am I glad to see you. Nell will be too.”
    “You have a mama?” Rosita’s shoulders relaxed a bit as she peered up at the gray-haired woman in front of her.
    “I did.” Hattie set the dish on the table, smiling at the child. “But she’s gone now.” She cocked an eyebrow in Kat’s direction.
    “This is Rosita.” Kat wondered if the woman knew the child’s mother was gone too, and if so, how? “She’s…she’s with me. Just until tomorrow,” she added.
    “My mama gone too.” Rosita’s lip began to quiver again.
    Tears filled Hattie’s eyes. “Oh, child.” She patted Rosita’s raven black hair and looked over at Kat. “Today?”
    Nodding, Kat wiped at the tears that began to spill over her own eyelids.
    “Well then, Rosita, you and I have a lot to talk about. I’ll put you in the chair right beside me for supper. Is that all right with you?”
    The child nodded, and then followed Hattie to the table. Soon, five children, including Rosita, and five women gathered around the food set before them. Rosita sat between Hattie and Kat. The chair on Kat’s other side remained empty, and she fought the urge to go to St. Peter’s Church and bring her sister home.
    “Let’s talk to the good Lord, shall we?” Hattie reached for Rosita’s hand on one side and Lucille’s on the other. Taking her lead, they all joined hands.
    Just as Hattie was about to say amen, the front door burst open and Kat jumped up from her seat.
    “Kat? Are you here?” Nell ran into the room, rambling on about bucket brigades, burning houses, and women and children needing cared for. Kat met her halfway, just as Nell started to cry.
    “I’m here.”
    She wrapped her sister in a warm embrace, ignoring the ache in her shoulder. When they’d dried their tears, Kat led Nell to the table where the other women thanked Nell for all she’d done for them and for so many others.
    Nell looked a mess—her clothes soiled and smoky and her hair mussed—but as she sat down, her eyes sparkled with a kind of satisfaction that Kat didn’t feel. Helping others seemed as natural to Nell as blossoms were to spring. Nell had found her place here.
    Kat sighed. Now all she had to do was to figure out where she belonged in this new territory.

N INE

    M organ finished scrubbing his hands in the washbowl and grabbed the only towel he could find. He tried to block out the mews and coos of the newborn and his mother. Some doctors weren’t meant to birth babies.
    And neither were some midwives. He scrubbed the rough cotton against his hands, thinking of the helpless woman. She was a pretty girl, he remembered, but clearly scatterbrained.
    “You done real good, Doc.” At least the new mother wasn’t swearing at him anymore. “You saved my boy.”
    Thank You, Lord .
    “By the grace of God.” Morgan balled up the towel. If only he understood why His grace helped some and not others.
    “Don’t know nothin’ about that, but me and my boy are alive, and us women are lucky to have a doc like you ’round here.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.”
    She let out a guffaw, and her son whimpered. “I look like a ma’am to you?”
    Not one iota . Morgan turned away from the bare leg that curled out around the sheet.
    “Didn’t think so.”
    She also didn’t look like a woman who should be mothering a baby. Opal, on the other hand, would’ve made a fine mother. The world was upside down.
    “Name’s Iris. And you’re much too stuffy for the miners and the cowboys around here.”
    “If behaving in a proper and respectful manner is stuffy, then I’m guilty. I’ll thank you to cover yourself proper-like. We