Money could buy security.

It could buy medicine.

It could guarantee that her children would never be thrown from a home because someone had forged their father’s name.

But money could not put James back beside her.

Winter approached.

Ryan stayed in Kelton.

At first because Marshal Quinn needed his testimony.

Then because the babies needed help.

Then because he simply never found a reason good enough to leave.

He repaired the boardinghouse roof.

Built two cradles.

Carried coal.

Walked the hall at three in the morning with Grace screaming against his shoulder.

Natalie watched him slowly become part of their lives.

Not James’s replacement.

Never that.

Something different.

One evening in December, Ryan sat beside the stove holding James Ryan.

The baby stared solemnly at him.

Ryan whispered, “You know, you’re named after two men who had absolutely no idea what they were doing.”

Natalie looked up from her sewing.

“One of them still doesn’t.”

Ryan smiled.

Then someone knocked.

Margaret opened the door.

Marshal Quinn stood outside carrying a package.

“For Mrs.

Foster.”

Natalie frowned.

“More legal papers?”

“Not exactly.”

He placed a small wooden box on the table.

“Workers clearing Number Seven found this behind a collapsed support.”

Ryan stood.

The box had James’s initials carved into the lid.

J.F.

Natalie stopped breathing.

The marshal removed his hat.

“I thought you should open it privately.”

He left.

Natalie stared at the box for nearly a minute.

Ryan finally said, “You don’t have to.”

“Yes.”

She opened it.

Inside was a pocket watch.

A photograph of Natalie taken the year before her marriage.

Three silver coins.

And another letter.

Natalie’s hands shook.

This envelope did not bear her name.

It said:

TO MY CHILDREN.

She began crying before opening it.

Ryan moved toward the door.

“Stay.”

He stopped.

Natalie unfolded the pages.

James had written them shortly after learning Natalie was pregnant.

He wrote about the things he wanted his children to know if anything ever happened to him.

How frightened he had been about becoming a father.

How much he loved their mother.

How he hoped they would inherit Natalie’s courage instead of his stubbornness.

She laughed through tears.

Then she reached the final page.

Her expression changed.

“What?”

Ryan asked.

Natalie reread the sentence.

Then again.

“Ryan.”

He came closer.

“What is it?”

Natalie handed him the letter.

Near the bottom, James had written:

There is one more thing your mother does not know, because I wanted to be certain before telling her.

Ryan frowned.

He continued reading.

Dr.

Harris believes Natalie may be carrying twins.

Ryan smiled faintly.

Then read the next line.

The smile vanished.

If there are two, I know exactly what I want their middle names to be.

Ryan looked at Natalie.

She stared at him.

He continued.

One should carry a piece of Margaret’s name, because she has been the best sister Natalie could ask for.

Ryan swallowed.

The other should carry Ryan’s.

The room became silent.

Natalie’s eyes filled again.

James had chosen the name before his death.