She looked at her children, at Jonah standing a little straighter, at Eliza holding Samuel, who was alive, at the twins, at Thomas, at little Abigail, all of them watching her, waiting. Mara took a breath, and then she followed. The creek was everything Silas had promised. Clear water running over smooth stones, cottonwood trees providing blessed shade, soft grass where the children could sit without fear of scorpions or snakes. The moment they arrived, the children scrambled out of the wagon and ran for the water, splashing and laughing.
Actual laughter, a sound Mara had almost forgotten. Silas dismounted, filled every container they had, then started a small fire. From his saddle bag, he produced salt pork, cornmeal, and a tin of peaches. Mara stared. You just carry all that?
I travel a lot. Where are you coming from? Montana. Where are you going? South.
That's not an answer. Silus looked at her, the faintest hint of something that might have been a smile. It's the only one I've got. He cooked in silence. Johnny cakes in the pan, pork sizzling over the fire, peaches divided carefully into seven small portions.
The children ate like wolves, tears streaming down their faces because it was the first real food they'd had in days. Mara couldn't eat. Her stomach was too nodded. Instead, she sat by the fire, watching Silus move with calm, methodical efficiency, cleaning the pan, checking the horses, refilling the canteen. "You're not from Wyoming," she said finally.
No. Where then? Texas originally. Long way from home. Don't have a home anymore.
The words were flat. Final. Mara recognized that tone. It was the same one she'd used when people asked about Daniel. Don't ask.
It still bleeds. Night fell. Silas spread blankets for the children, built up the fire, and then sat on the far side of the flames, his back against a tree, his hat pulled low. Mara waited until the children were asleep, then moved closer. "Silus," he looked up.
"Thank you." Her voice cracked. "I don't I don't know how to You don't need to. I do. You saved us. You saved my son." Silas's gaze moved to Samuel, sleeping peacefully in Eliza's arms.
He's strong. He would have made it. No, he wouldn't have. Silence. Why are you really doing this?
Mara asked quietly. Don't tell me it's just because you're a good man. Nobody's that good. Silus stared into the fire. For a long time, he didn't answer.
Then I had a wife once and a daughter. They died 8 years ago. Chalera epidemic swept through our town. I was away working a cattle drive. By the time I got back, he stopped, swallowed.