Caleb’s expression closed immediately.
The children looked up.
Eleanor knew she had touched truth.
“Who told you?”
Caleb asked.
“Nobody.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because you found me.”
“You knew my name before the auctioneer said it.”
“You looked at Thomas as if you'd seen him before.”
“And when the official said Hayes, you stopped breathing.”
Caleb stared into the fire.
Eleanor’s heartbeat increased.
“Who are you?”
The children were silent now.
Caleb looked at all seven.
Then at Eleanor.
“Not here.”
Eleanor’s anger rose.
“You said that in town.”
“And I mean it more now.”
“Why?”
Caleb looked toward the dark tree line.
“Because we're not alone.”
Every child froze.
Caleb lifted one finger to his lips.
A branch snapped somewhere beyond the firelight.
Then another.
Thomas reached toward the axe.
Caleb shook his head.
He stood.
Rifle ready.
“Stay near the fire.”
A horse snorted.
Caleb disappeared into darkness.
Eleanor immediately gathered the children close.
Another sound.
Closer.
Sarah whispered:
“Is it the wolf?”
Eleanor did not know.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Then a gunshot cracked through the trees.
Catherine screamed.
Eleanor pulled her against her chest.
A second gunshot.
Then silence.
Footsteps approached.
Caleb emerged dragging something through the snow.
Not a body.
A dead mountain lion.
The children stared.
Caleb dropped it beyond the fire.
“It was stalking the horses.”
Thomas’s eyes widened.
“You killed it?”
Caleb checked his rifle.
“It made a poor choice.”
He looked at Eleanor.
“We talk at the cabin.”
This time she did not argue.
The homestead appeared late the following afternoon.
Eleanor expected a crude one-room cabin.
Instead, the forest opened onto a broad valley surrounded by dark pines and steep white ridges.
A two-story timber house stood near the center.
Barn.
Smokehouse.
Workshop.
Chicken shed.
Fenced pasture.
A frozen pond.
Two smaller cabins near the tree line.
Everything looked isolated but not poor.
Sarah gasped.
Thomas stood inside the wagon.
“This is yours?”
Caleb corrected him.
“Ours.”
Eleanor looked sharply at him.
He climbed down.
“Come inside before the weather turns.”
The front room was enormous.
A stone fireplace occupied one wall.
A long table stood near the kitchen.
Wooden shelves held jars of beans, preserved berries, dried herbs, and canned meat.
Seven small hooks had been mounted near the door.
Each held a newly made wool coat.
Eleanor stopped.
Seven.
Exactly seven.
The children noticed.