Caleb thought for a moment.
“Sometimes there isn't one.”
Nobody asked another question for nearly an hour.
Eleanor watched him.
She had expected denial.
Boasting.
A story.
Instead he seemed almost uncomfortable with certainty.
That made him harder to understand.
Near sunset, they reached a frozen creek crossing.
Caleb climbed down.
“Stay.”
Thomas immediately moved.
Caleb looked at him.
“Especially you.”
Thomas froze.
Caleb tested the ice with the butt of his rifle, then walked ahead.
Eleanor watched him disappear into blowing snow.
Sarah whispered:
“Mama.”
“Yes?”
“What if he doesn't come back?”
Eleanor looked toward the dark trail behind them.
Covenant Creek was already too far.
No shelter nearby.
Children freezing.
She suddenly understood the terrifying dependence of wilderness.
Then Caleb returned carrying an axe.
“Crossing upstream.”
“Why?”
Eleanor asked.
“Ice is thin here.”
He led the horses forty yards north.
There he chopped dead branches and laid them over a narrow section before testing again.
They crossed safely.
On the far side, Caleb stopped.
A strange track marked the snow.
He crouched.
Thomas leaned from the wagon.
“What is it?”
Caleb looked toward the trees.
“Wolf.”
Edward woke.
“Wolf?”
Caleb climbed back onto the seat.
“One.”
“Big?”
William asked.
“Big enough.”
Catherine began crying softly.
Caleb glanced back.
“It won't come near.”
“How do you know?”
Caleb lifted the rifle slightly.
“Because it's smarter than people.”
Eleanor almost smiled.
Almost.
They camped beneath a rocky overhang after dark.
Caleb built a fire, then set up two canvas windbreaks.
Eleanor expected him to produce small rations.
Instead he opened a wooden provision box.
Beans.
Salt pork.
Dried apples.
Cornmeal.
Coffee.
Flour.
A small jar of honey.
Sarah stared.
“That's more food than we had for Christmas.”
Caleb paused.
Eleanor felt shame flare.
Not because Sarah had lied.
Because she had not.
Caleb simply handed Sarah a pot.
“Water.”
Sarah took it.
Thomas carried wood.
James helped unpack blankets.
Nobody had to be told twice.
Eleanor began preparing cornbread over the fire.
Caleb watched her hands.
“You know Dutch ovens.”
“I fed nine people with one for eleven years.”
He nodded.
“You'll find three at the cabin.”
“Why?”
“Because your brother needed them?”
Eleanor asked sharply.
Caleb looked at her.
She held his gaze.
“You knew Jonathan.”