Clara kept her voice calm.
"We aren't asking you to open for ordinary trading."
"Then what?"
"We need an accurate count of your available food."
He frowned.
"My stock is my business."
"Of course it is."
"Then why are you here?"
Clara drew a breath.
"Because we're trying to calculate what the settlement can use if the pass stays closed."
Pike gave a humorless laugh.
"And then what? You'll decide my flour belongs to everybody?"
"No."
He folded his arms.
"That's what it sounds like."
Martha Bell stepped forward.
"Amos, people are frightened."
"So am I."
The words surprised them.
Pike seemed to regret saying them.
He looked toward the mountains.
"I've got freight payments due. Creditors waiting. If I give away the store, who pays what I owe?"
Clara studied his face.
For the first time, she saw something beneath the merchant's arrogance.
Fear.
Not only of hunger.
Of losing the business he had spent twenty years building.
She nodded slowly.
"I understand."
Pike looked suspicious.
"Do you?"
"Yes. But your accounts won't matter much if the settlement can't survive to pay them."
His face hardened.
"Don't threaten me."
"I'm not."
She stepped closer.
"I'm asking you to help us find a solution that doesn't ruin your business or leave children hungry."
Pike stared at her.
For several seconds, he seemed uncertain how to respond.
Then he shook his head.
"Not today."
Clara's heart sank.
"Amos—"
"I said not today."
He closed the door.
The lock turned.
Martha Bell sighed.
Caleb stared at the door with an expression that worried Clara.
She touched his sleeve.
"Come on."
He looked toward her.
"He can't keep everything locked forever."
"No."
"Especially if people need it."
Clara nodded.
"But breaking the door won't solve what happens the next day."
Caleb looked at her.
She continued.
"We'll find another way."
They walked back through the snow.
Behind the store window, Amos Pike watched them leave.
His hands were trembling.
Hester Pike came to Clara's cabin that evening.
She entered wearing an expensive but badly damp wool cloak.
Her face was pale.
For once, her usual confidence seemed absent.
Clara looked up from the stove.
"Mrs. Pike."
Hester stood in the doorway.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she looked toward the children eating beside the fire.
"I heard you're feeding people."
Clara nodded.
"Some. Other homes are helping too."
Hester looked at the pot.
"What's that?"