Her silver pendant.
A knife.
Medicine.
A photograph of her husband taken two months after their wedding.
She almost left the photograph behind.
Then became angry with herself.
Going toward another possible life did not require erasing the first one.
She packed it.
Her aunt Isabel came with her.
Nathaniel seemed relieved when Clara told him.
“Good.”
Clara raised an eyebrow.
“You expected me to arrive alone?”
“I hoped you wouldn't.”
“Why?”
“Because if I were your aunt, I'd think you had lost your mind.”
Aunt Isabel heard from behind them.
“I do.”
Nathaniel turned.
Isabel was fifty-seven, small, straight-backed, and capable of making large men feel twelve years old.
She pointed toward him.
“If she comes home crying because you treated her badly, I will return.”
Nathaniel nodded solemnly.
“Understood.”
“With brothers.”
“Understood.”
“And cousins.”
“How many?”
“Enough.”
Nathaniel smiled.
“I believe you.”
Isabel did not smile back.
Clara did.
The road north left Red Hollow quickly.
Desert scrub.
Cottonwoods near water.
Then rising country.
Black Pine Ridge appeared near sunset on the second day.
Clara saw the ranch from a hill.
A large timber house.
Barn.
Two corrals.
Chicken yard.
Garden nearly finished for the season.
Smoke from one chimney.
Mountain rising behind it.
Beautiful.
Isolated.
More isolated than she expected.
Her stomach tightened.