"Harold was the same way. The whole town thought Harold Briggs was the steadiest, most patient man in Colorado. When I tried to tell Agnes Porter what he was, what it was like inside that house, she believed me. But she was one person. Her jaw tightened.
One person doesn't change a town's mind about a man they've respected for 20 years. Sam turned back to the window. The two horses were still there. One of them moved. A small shift, a restless step.
And then was still again. "Get some sleep." he said. "I'll watch." "Sam, you can't do anything useful running on empty. Get some sleep.
I'll wake you if anything changes." A long silence. Then the sound of her settling back on the bed, drawing Lily against her. Then quiet. Sam stayed at the window with his rifle and his thoughts, and watched the tree line until somewhere around 4:00 in the morning, the two horses turned and walked away south through the snow without hurrying, without any particular drama, as if they'd simply finished a job and were heading home.
He stood there until he couldn't hear them anymore. Then he sat down in the chair by the door and closed his eyes for two hours. And that was enough because it had always been enough. Dawn came gray and cold and absolute. Sam had the fire built up and coffee on before Martha woke.
And when she came out of sleep, it was the same way she'd done everything else he'd seen from her. Quickly, completely, without the slow surfacing that most people needed. She was awake, and then she was sitting up and assessing the room in a single motion. Her eyes going immediately to the window and then to Sam. "They left around 4:00," he said, pouring coffee.
She accepted the cup. "Agnes Porter," she said. "You should go this morning." "I know." "Before Wade gets to her first."
She wrapped both hands around the cup. "He'll try. He'll go to everyone he thinks I might lean on, and he'll put his version of events in their heads before I can speak for myself. He did the same thing when Harold died. Went to Reverend Holt before I could even get dressed and told him I'd been struggling.
That Harold had worried about me. That grief sometimes made women behave in ways that weren't She stopped. Anyway, Agnes is too smart to fall for it, but he'll try. "I'll be back before noon." Sam pulled on his coat.
He looked at Lily, who had materialized from the bedroom and was sitting on the hearth rug. The wooden button from yesterday back in her hands, watching him with those serious eyes. "She know how to use a rifle?" Martha looked at him sharply. "I'm asking."