"Bean stew."
Her gaze moved toward a small jar on the table.
"With your crooked vegetables?"
Clara felt the old sting.
But Hester's voice lacked its usual mockery.
Clara nodded.
"A little relish gives it flavor."
The older woman looked toward the children again.
Then said quietly, "My granddaughter won't eat."
Clara turned.
"What?"
"She's been frightened since the cellar flooded. She says her stomach hurts."
"Has she been seen by anybody?"
"Her mother says she's just upset. She's warm, but she won't touch supper."
Clara studied her.
Hester's hands were shaking.
"How old is she?"
"Six."
Clara set down the spoon.
"Bring her here if she's well enough to walk. I'll see what I can offer, and if she's ill we'll get the doctor."
Hester looked surprised.
"You'd do that?"
Clara stared.
"Of course."
The older woman's eyes filled.
For a moment, she seemed unable to speak.
Then she looked toward the jars.
"I made fun of those vegetables."
Clara said nothing.
Hester continued.
"At the market."
"I remember."
Hester swallowed.
"That was unkind."
Clara studied her face.
The apology was awkward.
Incomplete.
But genuine.
She nodded.
"Yes, it was."
Hester lowered her eyes.
Clara returned to the pot.
Then said gently, "Bring your granddaughter."
The older woman looked up.
"Thank you."
She turned toward the door.
Before leaving, she stopped.
"Clara?"
"Yes?"
Hester looked toward the pantry.
"I have two baskets of dried apples in my attic. They stayed dry."
Clara smiled faintly.
"Those could help."
"I'll bring them."
For a moment, the women looked at one another.
Then Hester left.
Clara stood beside the stove, thinking about how quickly the mountains could change the value of things.
A crooked pepper.
A dry basket of apples.
A neighbor who had seemed incapable of kindness.
Sometimes the first frost revealed more than people expected.
On the fourth day, the settlement held its first shared supper at the church.
Clara had insisted that families who could travel safely bring what they could, even if it was only a handful of meal or a few dried vegetables.
The goal was not to turn a church into a feast hall.
It was to make certain nobody was overlooked.
Caleb and several men carried large pots from the cabin.
Martha Bell brought bread.
The Carters provided potatoes.
Hester Pike arrived with dried apples and a jar of preserved peaches.
A widow named Sarah Ellis brought a crock of beans.
Two ranch hands delivered a little smoked meat.
The ingredients were modest.
But combined, they made enough for a hot meal.
Clara supervised the cooking with a mixture of patience and firmness.
When one man tried to serve himself twice before the children had eaten, she stopped him.
"Wait until everybody's had a first helping."