Pritchard nodded.
“Healthy ones.”
Eliza backed away.
“No.”
Caleb shifted Samuel into one arm and caught her elbow before she stumbled.
She looked at his hand.
Then at him.
He immediately loosened his grip.
Eliza did not pull away.
Pritchard continued.
“Denver families. Sometimes farther west.”
“How much?” Caleb asked.
“I don't know.”
Pritchard looked ashamed.
“I never asked.”
Mrs. Henderson stared at him.
“You heard children were being sold and never asked?”
“I heard rumors.”
“There's always a rumor.”
“Bankers stealing.”
“Rail men cheating.”
“Doctors drinking.”
“I didn't know.”
Caleb’s voice became cold.
“You know now.”
Pritchard nodded.
Eliza looked toward the stagecoach.
“We go back.”
Caleb frowned.
“To Julesburg?”
“Yes.”
Samuel moved against his chest.
Eliza saw.
Her face changed.
Fort Collins was ahead.
Doctor.
Safety.
Food.
Julesburg was behind them.
Her daughter.
Maybe.
If the tag meant what Mrs. Henderson believed.
Eliza closed her eyes.
Caleb understood the impossible choice before she spoke.
“You go back.”
Her eyes opened.
“What?”
“I take Samuel to Fort Collins.”
She stared at the baby.
Her own body answered before her mind did.
Pain crossed her face.
“He needs—”
“I'll find someone.”
“You haven't yet.”
“I will.”
Eliza looked toward the sleeping child.
She could not leave him.
Caleb saw that too.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“We don't make you choose.”
Eliza stared.
Caleb turned toward Pritchard.
“How far to Fort Collins?”
“Maybe three hours.”
“And from there to Julesburg?”
“By rail and coach? Better part of a day if connections work.”
Caleb looked at Mrs. Henderson.
“Any telegraph here?”
The station keeper answered from the doorway.
“One.”
Caleb nodded.
“We send ahead.”
“To who?” Eliza asked.
Caleb looked toward the mountains.
“Anyone who will listen.”
Doctor Avery in Fort Collins examined Samuel that evening.
The physician said little during the first ten minutes.
That frightened Caleb.
He watched the doctor press gently against Samuel’s abdomen, inspect his mouth, measure his breathing, and feel the soft place on his head.
Finally the doctor looked up.
“He’s badly dehydrated.”
Caleb’s throat tightened.
“Will he live?”
“If he keeps feeding.”
Everybody looked toward Eliza.
She sat near the window.
The doctor followed their gaze.
He understood without explanation.
“How often?”
Eliza answered immediately.
“Every two hours.”
“Small feeds.”
“Keep him warm.”
“He may sleep more than you like. Wake him.”
Caleb nodded at everything.
Doctor Avery looked at him.
“You're the father?”
“Yes.”
“Mother?”
Caleb’s face changed.
“Dead.”
The doctor softened.