She had barely spoken since Julesburg.
“How long since he fed properly?”
“Yesterday morning.”
Eliza’s face went white.
Her hand rose unconsciously to her chest.
Mrs. Henderson watched her.
Eliza looked at Samuel.
Then at the bottle.
Then back at Caleb.
“Has he wet his cloth?”
Caleb tried to remember.
“Not since before dawn.”
Eliza closed her eyes.
When she opened them, tears had appeared.
She slowly untied the ribbon beneath her bonnet.
Caleb frowned.
Eliza removed the bonnet and placed it beside her.
Her thick hair had been pinned into a practical knot.
“I buried my daughter in Julesburg.”
Nobody spoke.
Even Pritchard lowered his hands.
Eliza stared at the floorboards.
“She was born three weeks ago.”
Caleb’s grip tightened around Samuel.
Eliza continued.
“She lived fourteen days.”
Her voice broke.
“I held her every one of them.”
Mrs. Henderson whispered, “Oh, child.”
Eliza swallowed hard.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Please don't pity me. If you pity me, I won't be able to say this.”
Mrs. Henderson fell silent.
Eliza looked at Caleb.
“I still have milk.”
For a moment Caleb did not understand.
Then he did.
His eyes moved involuntarily toward her chest before immediately returning to her face.
Eliza noticed.
There was no embarrassment in her expression.
Only grief.
“My body doesn't understand she's gone.”
Her voice became quieter.
“For three days I've listened to your boy cry while my body still believes a child is waiting for me.”
Samuel made another weak sound.
Not a scream.
Something smaller.
Eliza reacted instantly.
Her arms opened.
“Give him to me.”
Caleb did not move.
His entire body resisted.
Samuel was the last living piece of Margaret.
He had barely allowed doctors to hold him.
Now a stranger was asking for his son.
Eliza understood what she saw in his face.
“I won't take him from you.”
Caleb stared.
“I only want to feed him.”
Samuel’s eyes fluttered.
Caleb looked down.
The child’s lips had begun turning frighteningly pale.
Eliza leaned forward.
“Mr. Warren.”
He looked up.
Her voice became firm.
“Give me your son.”
Caleb slowly crossed the narrow space between them.
His arms shook.
Eliza shifted her body and received Samuel as though she had been waiting her entire life for the weight.
The baby disappeared beneath her shawl and the cream blanket.
Nothing inappropriate was visible.
Only Eliza’s face.
Her eyes closed as Samuel rooted instinctively.
A second passed.
Then another.
Caleb could hear his own heartbeat.
Eliza suddenly inhaled.
Samuel swallowed.
Once.
Again.
Again.
Caleb’s knees nearly gave out.
He sat beside her.
Too close by ordinary standards.
Neither cared.
His massive hand settled over the blanket near Samuel’s back.
“Is he—”
“Yes.”
Eliza nodded quickly.
“He's feeding.”
Caleb shut his eyes.
A sound escaped him.
Half laugh.
Half sob.
He lowered his head.
Eliza’s free hand found his wrist.
She did not seem to realize she had touched him.
Neither did he until several seconds later.
Samuel kept drinking.
The entire coach had become silent.
Pritchard stared at his boots.
Mrs. Henderson wiped tears from her cheeks.