CHAPTER TWO

Zula checked the air intake on the firebox and slammed down the bonnet with a satisfied grunt. “There!” She peeled off her greasy gloves and then took off her long lab coat, careful not to get any dirt on her wool skirt. She loved to tinker with her father’s inventions, but was careful not to soil her clothes in the process.

Zula had always taken great pride in her appearance and worked hard to look like a lady at all times. When her mother was alive, she had marveled at how Zula was able to do what Eleanor referred to as “men’s work” and yet manage to stay pristine.

“Try now, Papa. I adjusted the outlet valve to slow the flow of steam.”

Nathan released the handbrake and the carriage jumped forward, then slowed to a smooth pace down the dirt lane. Puffs of white smoke chugged from the rear and were whisked away by the crisp spring breeze. Nathan backed and turned and returned to Zula with a wide smile on his face.

“You’ve done it, Zula! Aren’t you the clever one? It moves much faster than Randolph’s stodgy two-mile-an-hour carriage. I look forward to trying her on the open road and seeing just how fast she can go.”

Zula looked at her father with affection. He had an endearing habit of referring to all mechanical creatures as “she,” one of the many traits that made her father so lovable.

“I’ll take her into town later to give her a thorough test. I want to show it to Squire Briggs—he expressed an interest in financing a manufacturing company if I came up with a suitable prototype.”

Nathan set the handbrake and jumped down from the driver’s seat. Zula caught his wince before he turned his head. She knew that his knees bothered him, knew that his white hair indicated his advancing years, but she refused to allow herself to think about what that meant.

They both missed Mother Ellie. Nathan tried to hide his heartache from Zula, but she knew he had a hollow place inside since his wife’s passing last winter. She knew because she had one too. She knew Papa loved her, but sometimes Zula got the feeling that he didn’t know quite what to do with this too tall, too statuesque creature that was his daughter.

If she possessed the dainty frame of Mother Ellie she wouldn’t feel so much like a changeling, taken from the bosom of some far-off giantess and dropped into the lap of the beautiful and elegant Eleanor Smith.

This was the only explanation she could come up with to explain having no memories before her thirteenth year: someone had put a spell on her and then switched her out with Eleanor’s true child.

Zula pushed the familiar daydream from her mind. It was time for her to stretch her horizons. She was determined to see the world beyond the Smith farm.

In an effort to protect her from a rapidly changing