And Eleanor realized something terrifying.
She did not want to leave him.
By spring, Reverend Price and Judge Voss’s surviving accomplices were awaiting federal trial.
The Mercer Farm system collapsed quickly once Samuel’s papers reached the proper authorities.
Forty-three children were identified.
Twenty-six were eventually reunited with relatives.
Others found safe homes.
Marshal Crowe became unbearable about reminding everyone that he had technically helped save Wyoming civilization.
Thomas worshiped him anyway.
Nathaniel changed slowly.
He still hid food beneath his mattress.
Still panicked when doors were locked.
Still sometimes woke screaming.
But one morning in April, Eleanor was kneading bread when two arms wrapped around her waist.
She looked down.
Nathaniel buried his face against her dress.
“Mama?”
Eleanor stopped breathing.
“Yes?”
“Can I have honey?”
She laughed and cried at the same time.
“Yes.”
Nathaniel frowned.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because apparently honey is very emotional.”
He rolled his eyes.
Then smiled.
And for the first time, Eleanor truly had eight children.
Samuel recovered in the house through winter.
That created a different difficulty.
Legally, he was Eleanor’s husband.
Caleb slept in the barn.
No one asked him to.
One April evening, Eleanor found him packing saddlebags.
“Where are you going?”
“Montana.”
“Why?”
“There are farms north of here that might be connected to Price.”
“Crowe can investigate them.”
“He will.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
Caleb tightened a strap.
“This house belongs to Samuel.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“You said yourself it belongs to the family who lives here.”
Caleb did not look at her.
“Your family is whole again.”
Eleanor stepped closer.
“Is it?”
His jaw tightened.
“Eleanor.”
“You bought me for three hundred dollars.”
“I didn’t buy you.”
“You married me.”
“To protect you.”
“You fed my children.”
“They were hungry.”
“You gave Nathaniel a place to hide.”
“He needed one.”
“You prepared eight beds.”
Caleb finally looked at her.
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
His voice hardened.
“The truth doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
He turned away.
Eleanor grabbed his arm.
“Do you love me?”
Caleb went completely still.
The barn became silent except for horses shifting in their stalls.
“That isn’t a fair question.”
“Neither was the auction.”
He looked at her.
His pale eyes held months of things he had refused to say.
“Yes.”
One word.
No poetry.
No declaration.
Just truth.
Eleanor’s eyes filled.
Caleb continued.
“I loved you somewhere between watching you threaten a territorial judge with a biscuit knife and seeing you teach Nate that he didn’t have to hide food anymore.”
She laughed through tears.
“But Samuel is alive.”
“I know.”
“He’s my husband.”
“I know.”
“So what happens?”
Caleb’s expression softened.
“You go home to him.”
Eleanor stared.
Then shook her head.
“No.”
His face changed.
“Eleanor.”
“No.”
“You loved him.”
“I still do.”
Pain flashed across Caleb’s expression.
“But love isn’t always the same thing after death.”
“He didn’t choose to leave.”
“And I don’t blame him.”
She stepped closer.
“But Samuel and I spent two years becoming different people.”
Caleb said nothing.
“I buried him.”
