"Did Grandpa Silas really hold the bridge all by himself?" Cora stopped sewing. She looked up at the stone mantle above the fireplace. Resting on the mantle was a wooden box. Inside lay an old cavalry medal and a faded piece of parchment.
"No," Cora said softly. "He wasn't by himself. He had good men with him." Nelly turned a page in her book. "Mrs. Gable said pride doesn't keep you warm."
Cora felt a sudden ache in her chest. She hated that her daughter had heard those words. She hated that she could not wrap Nelly in something beautiful and bright to shield her from the cruelty of the town. "Mrs. Gable is right about that," Cora said. She tied off a knot in the thread and bit the end clean.
"But she is wrong about everything else." Nelly looked at her mother. "What do you mean?" "Pride doesn't keep you warm," Cora explained, her voice steady. "But dignity keeps you standing."
"A person can have cold hands and still have a strong spine. Do you understand?" Nelly thought about it. She nodded slowly. "I don't mind the dress, Ma," Nelly said.
It was a lie. They both knew it. But it was a brave lie offered out of love. Cora smiled. It was a tired smile, but it was genuine.
Before she could speak, a dog barked outside. Cora stood up. She looked through the frosted window. A heavy wagon pulled by two dark horses was rolling into their yard. Cora felt a sudden spike of fear.
Wagons usually meant the bank or the tax collector. She opened the front door. The bitter wind rushed in. Josiah Langden pulled back on the reins. The wagon came to a halt.
Beside Josiah sat a little girl. She was nine years old. She wore a thick wool coat and a blue knitted cap. Her dark hair escaped in curls around her face. This was Eliza Langden.
Josiah climbed down. He helped Eliza to the ground. Then he reached into the back of the wagon and lifted the massive bolt of red flannel. Cora stepped onto the porch. She pulled her thin shawl tight across her shoulders.
"Mr. Langden," Cora said, her voice guarded. She knew who he was. "Mrs. Thornton," Josiah said, removing his hat despite the cold. "I apologize for the intrusion." "Has one of my cows broken your fence line?"
"No, ma'am. Your animals are right where they belong." Josiah walked toward the porch. He carried the heavy fabric easily. Eliza walked beside him.
She looked up at Cora, then peeked past her at Nelly, who had come to stand in the doorway. "I was at the mercantile this morning," Josiah said. Cora's expression closed immediately. Her posture stiffened. She prepared herself for pity.