InterludeCarmonton, Wales, November 18, 1882
Brenda Evans knew better than to be out by herself after dark on the road between Cardiff and the mines, but one unlucky chance after another had befallen her, and so here she was, a good hour from home yet and the shadows slanting hard toward evening. She thought about turning back, deferring her journey until morning—but she did not personally know anyone who ran a boarding house in Cardiff, and badly choosing her night’s accommodation could be as hazardous to her safety as being waylaid on the road. Then there was the expense, and her father would worry. She looked at the sky. Surely she could make it home before full dark. Surely the road could not be so dangerous. She tightened her grip on the reins.
If only her father’s chest cold had no
