Wesley stared at Calderbon holding Maisie and thought about the two times before when he'd watched a man or a woman make a decision like this and then watched them change their mind when the reality of it settled in. He thought about how he had learned specifically and deliberately not to believe in this kind of moment. He believed in it anyway. He hated that he believed in it. He picked up the pencil he'd been using and tucked it in his pocket because it was still a good pencil.
And then he went after Benny to help with the bags. The wagon ride to Calder's ranch took just over an hour. Agnes Hollowell sat in the front beside Calder with her clipboard on her knees. And in the back of the wagon, nine children were crammed in among their three combined bags. And whatever Agnes had thought to bring, and it should have been uncomfortable, and probably was, but what it mainly was was loud.
Not the loud of children misbehaving. The loud of children who had been very, very quiet for a very, very long time, finally having something they needed to say. Benny had questions. Benny always had questions. How many horses did the ranch have?
What were their names? Was there a river or a creek nearby? What kind of fence was the north fence? Why was the canvas on the wagon different from the canvas on the train? Calder answered every single one, not with the slightly exhausted tolerance of an adult who has been answering questions for too long.
M like someone who hadn't had anyone to talk to in a while and found the questions more interesting than he'd expected. The north fence is cedar posts and wire, he said. And it needs work on the east corner. The posts are getting soft. Can I help fix it?
Benny asked. Probably not yet, but you can watch. Why can't I help? Because you're six and the wire's sharp. I'm almost seven.
That doesn't make the wire less sharp. Benny thought about this. What if I wore gloves? We'll talk about it when you're seven. This answer somehow satisfied Benny completely.
He turned and told Eddie that he was going to help fix the fence when he was seven. And Eddie told him that was a long time to wait. And Benny said that was okay. He had other things to do in the meantime. In the front of the wagon, Agnes watched the road and said nothing.
Clara sat in the back between Nelly and Jonah and watched the landscape go by and tried to make herself believe in what was happening. This was the difficult thing about Clara. The thing nobody quite saw. She was 12 and she had spent three years protecting the other children and managing the practicalities of their shared life. And that meant she had very little room left over for the thing children were actually supposed to do, which was believe that things would be okay.