“And because my wife once told me if I ever had to choose someone to trust around her children, I should look at how the person treated them before they knew anybody was watching.”
Clara looked toward the wagon.
“Your wife said that?”
“Yes.”
Her throat tightened.
“What was her name?”
“Elena.”
Ruth looked up sharply at the sound.
Clara saw grief cross the girl’s face.
“Elena Cole?”
“Yes.”
Clara became still.
Nathaniel noticed.
“What?”
The name had opened a small door in memory.
Not someone Clara knew closely.
But knew.
“Elena who?”
Nathaniel frowned.
“Before Cole?”
“Coche.”
Clara inhaled.
Ruth sat straighter.
Clara looked at her.
“Your mother was Elena Coche?”
The girl nodded slowly.
“You knew her?”
Clara touched the silver pendant at her throat.
“Not well.”
“She came through my aunt’s camp when I was seventeen.”
Nathaniel stared.
“You met Elena?”
“Twice.”
“Maybe three times.”
“She was older.”
“Already married?”
“No.”
Clara smiled faintly.
“She was stubborn.”
Elias spoke for the first time.
“She was.”
Nathaniel looked back at his son.
Then toward Clara.
“What do you remember?”
Clara thought.
“A girl who beat three boys at throwing knives and refused to let any of them pretend afterward that she cheated.”
Ruth smiled.
Actually smiled.
“She did that with cards too.”
Nathaniel laughed softly.