Nothing prepared him for that little girl.

“Sweet Jesus.”

Hattie immediately stiffened.

“I’m taking care of them.”

“I can see that.”

“They’re mine.”

Silas crouched slowly.

“I won’t take them.”

“Papa’s coming back.”

Silas looked at her.

She looked away.

“No,” she whispered. “He isn’t.”

Silas removed his gloves.

“How long?”

“Six days.”

His face changed.

“Six?”

Hattie nodded.

Silas crossed to the stove.

“Where’s your wood?”

“Gone.”

He immediately turned toward the door.

“My wagon’s got enough oak to burn until Easter.”

He carried wood inside.

Then blankets.

Then food.

Then a lantern.

Within minutes, flames roared inside the stove.

Heat slowly returned to the cabin.

Hattie watched every movement.

Silas warmed water.

He found condensed milk among his freight supplies and diluted it carefully.

When he reached for Mercy, Hattie recoiled.

“Easy.”

“Don’t take her.”

“I need to warm her.”

“I can.”

“You’ve done enough.”

Something about those words broke through Hattie’s defenses.

Her chin trembled.

Silas saw it.

He didn’t touch her.

Instead, he sat on the floor.

“All right. You hold her. I’ll help.”

Together, they fed Mercy drop by drop.

One drop.

Then another.

Then another.

After ten minutes, Mercy swallowed.

Hattie gasped.

“She swallowed!”

Silas smiled.

“She surely did.”

They tried again.

Mercy swallowed.

Hattie laughed.

It was a tiny sound.

But it was the first laugh inside the Pell cabin since her mother died.

Then Silas noticed Hattie’s hand.

Her fingers were swollen.

Two fingertips were gray.

“How long since you ate?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Hattie hesitated.

“Yesterday.”

Silas opened a tin of peaches.

She devoured them so quickly he had to slow her down.

Afterward, exhaustion struck her all at once.

Her head drooped.

Silas spread blankets beside the stove.

“You sleep.”

“What if Mercy stops breathing?”

“I’ll watch her.”

“You might fall asleep.”

“I won’t.”

“How do I know?”

Silas met her eyes.

“Because when a Brennan gives his word, he keeps it.”

Hattie stared at him.

Then she whispered, “My papa gave his word.”

Silas had no answer.

Hattie fell asleep holding his sleeve.

She woke screaming.

“Papa!”

Silas was instantly beside her.

“Easy.”

Hattie sat up.

Morning light barely penetrated the snow-covered windows.

The babies lay in a crate Silas had lined with blankets beside the stove.

Both were breathing.

Mercy was still weak.

But alive.

Hattie crawled toward them.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Seven hours.”

Her eyes widened.

“You stayed awake?”

Silas lifted a coffee cup.

“I’ve had enough coffee to hear colors.”

Hattie looked toward the bed.

Her mother’s body still lay beneath the sheet.

Silas followed her gaze.

“We’ll bury her when the ground allows it.”

Hattie nodded.

Then she noticed his expression.