“So does grief.”
Eleanor folded the letter carefully.
“Why didn't you ever marry?”
He went still.
She almost apologized.
Then Caleb answered.
“Once.”
Eleanor stared.
“What happened?”
“She died.”
“How?”
“Covenant Creek.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened.
“The mine fire.”
One of the rescued children had been Caleb’s young wife’s niece. After he exposed the forced-labor operation, men burned the boarding house where she stayed.
Caleb arrived too late.
That was the night two men died by his hand.
The rumors had called it a drunken rampage.
The truth was a grieving husband finding armed men leaving a burning building.
Eleanor looked at him differently afterward.
Not less dangerous.
More understandable.
Sometimes danger grew from a wound.
Spring arrived late.
Snow retreated from the lower meadow.
The children discovered the valley beneath winter.
Wildflowers.
Creek water.
Deer tracks.
A hillside full of strawberries.
Eleanor planted a kitchen garden with Sarah and the girls.
Caleb and the boys repaired fencing.
For several weeks, life almost felt peaceful.
Then Thomas disappeared.
Eleanor knew something was wrong when the dinner bell rang and six children arrived.
Not seven.
“Where is Thomas?”
James looked around.
“He went to check the north trap.”
Caleb stood immediately.
“I told him not to cross the ridge.”
“He said he wouldn't.”
Caleb grabbed his rifle.
Eleanor followed as far as the porch.
“Bring him home.”
Caleb looked at her.
“I will.”
Three hours passed.
Darkness came.
Eleanor sat at the kitchen table unable to breathe normally.
Sarah tried comforting the younger children.
Nobody ate.
Then horses approached.
Eleanor reached the porch.
Caleb came first.
Thomas sat behind him.
Alive.
Blood on his face.
Eleanor almost collapsed.
She moved faster than pain usually allowed.
“Thomas!”
He slid down.
Eleanor grabbed him.
“What happened?”
The boy shook violently.
“Men.”
Caleb dismounted.
His expression was terrifying.
“Two riders intercepted him.”
“Who?”
“Vane’s men.”
Thomas cried against Eleanor.
“They asked where Uncle Caleb kept papers.”
Eleanor looked at Caleb.
“They hit him?”
“One did.”
“What happened to them?”
Caleb said nothing.
Thomas whispered:
“Uncle Caleb found us.”
Eleanor looked toward the blood on Caleb’s knuckles.
“Alive?”
Caleb’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
She believed him.
Barely.
Later, after Thomas slept, Eleanor confronted Caleb in the barn.
“You cannot kill everyone Vane sends.”
“I didn't.”
“You wanted to.”
“Yes.”
She folded her arms.