Clara searched his face.
“Promise?”
Nathaniel had once promised a woman forever.
Six years earlier, he had watched men lower an empty coffin into frozen earth because nothing recognizable had been recovered from the burned stagecoach that supposedly carried his wife.
Since then, Nathaniel Boone had made very few promises.
He extended his hand.
“I promise.”
Clara put her tiny fingers into his.
And five children left Silver Creek together.
The Boone ranch had not heard laughter in six years.
By the second evening, it had also not heard silence.
Eli discovered that banging spoons on the kitchen table made Daniel blink.
Jonah found a wooden horse beneath Nathaniel’s bed.
Micah asked why there were no curtains in the bedroom.
Clara apologized for all three.
Repeatedly.
“Sorry, Mr. Boone.”
“Nathaniel.”
“Sorry, Mr. Nathaniel.”
“Nathaniel.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nathaniel surrendered.
His house had only two bedrooms, so he gave the children his own.
He slept beside the stove.
The first night, Clara woke him at two in the morning.
Daniel was struggling to breathe.
Nathaniel rode through a blizzard to fetch Doctor Hale.
By dawn, the physician had stabilized the baby.
Clara sat at the kitchen table afterward, exhausted.
Nathaniel placed a cup of warm milk in front of her.
She stared at it.
“You can drink.”
“Is it expensive?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Nathaniel frowned.
“Why?”
Clara looked toward the bedroom where her brothers slept.
“Mama used to say we shouldn’t take more than we need.”
Something about the sentence hurt him unexpectedly.
“What was your mother like?”
Clara’s fingers tightened around the cup.
“Pretty.”
Nathaniel almost smiled.
“That all?”
“She sang.”
His smile vanished.
“What?”
Clara did not answer.
She began humming.
Nathaniel stopped breathing.
It was a simple melody.
Six rising notes.
Three falling.
Then a soft turn at the end.
Nathaniel had not heard it since Abigail.
His wife.
Abigail used to hum that melody while brushing her hair.
Nathaniel stared at Clara.
“Where did you learn that?”
“My mama.”
“What was her name?”
Clara looked confused.
“Miriam.”
Nathaniel stood so abruptly his chair fell backward.
The child flinched.
He immediately regretted it.
“Sorry.”
Clara hugged herself.
Nathaniel picked up the chair.
“It’s just… my wife knew that song.”
“Lots of people know songs.”
“Yes.”
He told himself that was all it was.
Coincidence.
Nothing more.
But that night, Nathaniel did not sleep.
Three days later, Elias Crowe arrived.
Nathaniel met him outside with a rifle.
Crowe looked at the barrel.
“Good morning to you too.”
“What do you want?”
“To keep those children alive.”
Nathaniel did not lower the weapon.
Crowe glanced toward the house.
“Has anyone else come asking questions?”
“No.”
“They will.”
