Abigail remained standing.
She pulled the newspaper clipping from inside her glove.
Held it toward him.
His face changed before he took it.
“Where did you get this?”
“Under my door.”
“When?”
“Three nights ago.”
Caleb read.
His scar seemed to tighten.
Abigail’s voice shook despite everything.
“Is it true?”
He looked up.
“Which part?”
“That your family died.”
“Yes.”
“That you were there.”
“Yes.”
“That they wanted you for questioning.”
“Yes.”
Her chest tightened.
“Did you kill them?”
“No.”
Immediate.
She stared.
Caleb did not look offended by the question.
Only tired.
Abigail whispered:
“Then tell me what happened.”
He looked toward the closed door.
“Not here.”
Her anger flared.
“Then there will be no wedding.”
He turned back.
“Abigail—”
“No.”
She stepped toward him.
“I already married one man who believed silence was his privilege and my confusion was my duty.”
“If you expect me to stand in that church beside you, you tell me now.”
Something moved in Caleb’s face.
Pain.
Not anger.
He reached slowly toward his gun belt.
Abigail stiffened.
Caleb noticed.
Then unbuckled the entire belt.
He placed it on the bench.
Away from both of them.
Next, he removed the knife from inside his boot.
Set that beside it.
Then opened both hands.
“You can walk out that door.”
“I’ll pay for any train ticket you want.”
“I’ll settle Bell’s bakery note whether you marry me or not.”
Abigail stared.
“You would?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Bell told me you were choosing marriage with a debt hanging over your head.”
“I didn’t know how much pressure he’d put on you until yesterday.”
“You knew about the debt.”
“Not the deadline.”
Abigail’s breathing changed.
Caleb continued.
“I came this morning intending to tell you before Reverend Shaw started anything.”
“You still haven’t answered.”
“No.”
He reached inside his coat slowly.
This time Abigail did not flinch.
He withdrew a small silver locket.
Blackened around the edges.
Heat-warped.
The hinge damaged.
Caleb opened it.
Inside was a miniature portrait.
A woman in her forties.
Two boys.
A young girl.
Abigail looked up.
“My mother.”
Caleb touched the woman in the image.
“My brothers.”
“The girl was my sister.”
“Anna.”
His voice nearly broke on the name.
“They died in the fire.”
Abigail looked at the burn damage on the locket.
“I found this under what was left of the west wall.”
“What happened?”