You know about the wife? I know she passed. 18 months ago, Hattie said. Fever took her in 4 days. Those babies were She stopped, pressed her lips together.
Thomas Callahan is a decent man. He struggled. Anybody who says different doesn't know what they're talking about. I don't doubt it, Clara said. He had a woman out there before you.
From Abilene. She lasted 9 days. Hattie folded the top of a flour sack with practiced precision. And one before that who never even got off the stagecoach when she saw the children. Clara was quiet for a moment.
She didn't get off the stagecoach, she said. Took one look through the window and told the driver she'd made a mistake. Hattie met her eyes. Those children were on the porch waiting. Something moved through Clara's chest that she did not name.
How long ago? She said carefully. Eight months, give or take. Hattie slid the wrapped packages across the counter. Jacob saw the whole thing.
He was the one who'd gotten the little ones dressed and brought them out to meet her. Clara picked up the first package. She thought about a 10-year-old boy who had dressed his younger siblings and brought them out to the porch to meet a woman who had looked through a stagecoach window and decided they weren't worth stepping down for. She thought about crossed arms and a jaw set at a particular angle. She set the package in her basket and picked up the next one.
"Thank you for the supplies, Mrs. Greer." She said. "Miss Bennett?" Hattie's voice stopped her at the door.
Clara turned. The older woman was looking at her with an expression that was not pity and not quite hope, but something in between. "Those are good children." She said. "All four of them.
They just need somebody to stay." Clara walked out into the summer heat and loaded the wagon and drove back to the ranch. She did not let herself think about what Hattie Greer had said for the entire 6 miles. She thought about it anyway. Jacob was in the yard when she pulled in and he came to take the horse without being asked.
It was done with a practiced competence that stopped her the ease of a boy who had been doing a man's secondary work for long enough that it had become automatic. "Thank you." She said climbing down. He nodded. He started to lead the horse toward the barn then stopped.