"She said we would get to town before dark."
"What happened?"
"The snow."
Gideon exchanged a glance with Martha.
"Where is your home?"
The girl pointed east.
"Beyond the ridge."
"How far?"
She shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Do you know your father's name?"
The girl nodded.
"Thomas."
"And your mother's?"
"Sarah."
Martha crouched beside her.
"What's your name?"
The girl hesitated.
"Lily."
"Lily," Martha repeated gently.
The name seemed to settle warmly into the barn.
"That's beautiful."
Lily smiled.
Then she looked toward the cabin.
"Can we stay until Mama wakes up?"
Martha answered immediately.
"Yes."
Lily looked at Gideon.
He nodded.
"Yes."
The girl's shoulders relaxed.
That simple movement nearly broke Martha's heart.
Children should not know what it meant to be afraid of being turned away.
They should not have to ask whether warmth was temporary.
They should simply expect it.
Martha watched Lily return to Daisy.
Then she whispered to Gideon, "We're keeping her."
"For how long?"
"Until her mother can travel."
"And if she can't?"
Martha looked at him.
"Then we'll figure it out."
He smiled.
"You always say that."
"Because it keeps working."
By noon, the injured woman woke.
Martha was beside her immediately.
"You're safe."
The woman blinked.
Her eyes were unfocused.
"Lily."
"She's here."
The woman's face tightened.
"Where?"
"In the barn."
She tried to sit.
Pain stopped her.
Martha placed a hand against her shoulder.
"Don't move."
"My daughter."
"She's safe."
The woman's breathing slowed.
"Who are you?"
"Martha."
"Gideon."
The woman looked toward him.
Then she looked around the cabin.
"The horse?"
"Safe."
"Lily?"
"Safe."
Her eyes closed.
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"Thank God."
Martha brought her water.
"What happened?"
The woman drank slowly.
"My husband died last spring."
Martha said nothing.
"We were trying to reach my sister."
"Where does she live?"
"Three days east."
Gideon frowned.
"In this weather?"
"We didn't know the storm would come."
"Nobody did."
The woman looked at him.
"Are we far from town?"
"About twelve miles."
She closed her eyes again.
"We were trying to get there."
"You won't be traveling anywhere today."
"I have to."
"No."
Her eyes opened.
Martha's voice remained gentle, but firm.