Not loudly.
She simply stood there with tears running down her face.
For two years, she had been grieving a son who might have been alive the entire time.
The younger woman looked toward me.
"My daughter?"
I nodded.
"There's reason to believe she's at Silver Mesa."
She covered her face.
The widow went to her.
I stood beside the table, feeling helpless.
I'd spent much of my life believing that strength meant being able to lift heavy things, ride difficult horses, or face an angry man without blinking.
But there was nothing I could lift or fight that would erase the pain those two women had endured.
All I could do was stay.
So I stayed.
That night, the older woman found me outside the stable.
I was brushing Chester when I heard footsteps behind me.
She stood near the fence wearing a borrowed shawl.
The evening air was cooling quickly.
"You should be resting," I said.
She shook her head.
"I cannot sleep."
I understood.
She came closer.
For a while, we watched Chester chew hay.
Then she asked, "Did you have children?"
The question surprised me.
"No."
She looked toward me.
"Did you want them?"
I nodded.
"Very much."
She studied my face.
"What happened?"
I considered how much to tell her.
Then I answered.
"My wife died before we could build the family we wanted."
The older woman's expression softened.
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
We stood quietly.
Then she spoke.
"My husband told me I was worthless because I could not give him another child."
I turned toward her.
She continued.
"He told me I was a failure."
I leaned against the fence.
"Your husband lied about more than one thing."
She looked down.
"For a long time, I believed him."
I felt something tighten in my chest.
"Listen to me."
She raised her eyes.
"Whether you had one child, ten children, or none at all, that wouldn't decide your worth."
Her face changed.
I continued.
"A woman isn't a broken promise because she can't give a man a baby."
She stared at me.
For several seconds, she didn't speak.
Then she whispered, "You really believe that?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
She looked toward Chester.
Tears gathered in her eyes.
Then she smiled faintly.
"My son is alive."
I returned the smile.
"We have reason to believe so."
She nodded.
For a while, she stood beside me in silence.
Then she asked, "Will you help us find him?"
I looked toward the northern hills.
"Yes."
She studied me.
"Even if it takes a long time?"
I thought about the years I'd spent drifting without knowing where I belonged.