Chapter Three
For two weeks after Jerud’s burial, they scowled at her, barked commands, and did not let Fiona forget that it was in a fight over her that their friend Jerud Daugherty died.
She assumed the worst of this harassment would die away, though for days she did nothing but wait on the tavern guests, and then retreat quickly to her room upstairs when the evening was over. She rarely saw the mysterious blacksmith, perhaps he thought her troubles would die away too, she thought.
“I’ll just have to protect myself,” she repeated over and again to herself.
“Is Leedy Mallick getting rough with you, Fi?” Mr. Travis, asked her one afternoon.
“I can handle him,” she assured her employer. “He gets a little drunk and starts talking but I shove him away.”
“I’m not so sure,” he said, shak
