"You're bossy."
"Yes."
"Always have been."
"Samuel."
He squeezed her fingers.
"All right."
The doctor arrived after midnight.
He examined Samuel carefully.
Listened to his chest.
Checked his fever.
Then spoke privately with Clara.
"He has a serious infection in his lungs."
Clara felt the room tilt.
"Will he recover?"
The doctor hesitated.
"We'll do everything we can."
She hated that answer.
Not because it was dishonest.
But because it was honest enough to reveal how uncertain the next days would be.
She looked toward the bedroom.
Samuel lay beneath thick blankets.
His enormous frame seemed strangely vulnerable.
Clara swallowed.
"What should I do?"
"Keep him warm. Give him fluids. Follow the treatment I've left. And send for me immediately if his breathing worsens."
She nodded.
The doctor placed one hand over hers.
"Mrs. Thorne, he's a strong man."
Clara looked at him.
"I know."
Then quietly, she added, "But strong men can die too."
The doctor did not contradict her.
Samuel remained ill for nearly three weeks.
During the worst nights, Clara sat beside his bed.
She changed damp cloths.
Helped him drink.
Kept the fire burning.
And spoke to him whenever he woke frightened or confused.
Sometimes he dreamed of the old mine.
Sometimes he called for his mother.
Once, near dawn, he opened his eyes and stared at Clara with such sudden terror that she leaned forward immediately.
"Samuel?"
He gripped her hand.
"Don't close the door."
Clara felt a sharp ache in her chest.
She knew which door he meant.
The one beneath the mountain.
The one that had haunted his childhood.
She brought his hand to her cheek.
"No one is closing any doors."
He shook his head weakly.
"He's still down there."
Clara leaned close.
"Samuel, listen to me."
He stared at her.
"Thomas got out."
His breathing quickened.
"He escaped the mountain."
She stroked his hair.
"He lived. Remember?"
Samuel blinked.
Slowly, recognition returned.
Clara continued.
"His family found the truth. Daniel made sure of it."
Samuel's grip loosened.
His eyes filled.
"He got out?"
"Yes, darling."
She kissed his forehead.
"He got out."
Samuel closed his eyes.
A tear slipped down his temple.
Then he whispered, "Good."
And fell asleep.
Clara remained beside him until morning.
She did not know whether he would live.
She did not pretend certainty.
But she stayed.
Just as they had always promised.
When Samuel finally recovered enough to sit beside the bedroom window, he discovered that the entire valley had quietly organized itself around his absence.
Annie, now a grown woman with two children of her own, managed the pantry.
Her brothers tended the animals.
Ruth prepared meals when Clara was too tired.
Neighbors repaired the broken fence along the eastern meadow.
Someone delivered firewood.
Someone else brought eggs.