The rain fell in sheets across the cemetery on that bleak April morning in 1877, turning the freshly dug earth into mud that clung to Faith Sullivan's boots as she stood before her husband's grave. Her six-month-old daughter, Emma, whimpered against her chest, sheltered beneath her shawl from the relentless downpour. Faith hadn't noticed when the other mourers had departed few, as they were leaving her alone with her grief and her child in the unforgiving Montana territory weather. She didn't notice when the rain stopped hitting her black morning dress, but she did notice the presence of someone beside her, tall and steady as an oak. Madam, came a deep voice, gentle despite its roughness.
You and your little one shouldn't be standing out in this weather. Faith looked up to see a face she vaguely recognized beneath the brim of a worn cowboy hat. He held a large black umbrella over her and Emma, his own shoulders getting soaked in the process. Thank you, she managed, her voice barely audible above the rain. But I'm not ready to leave him yet.
The man, Colton Reed, she now remembered, nodded solemnly. Then I'll wait with you if you don't mind. Faith couldn't find the words to respond, so she simply nodded and returned her gaze to the simple wooden marker. Thomas Sullivan, 1849, 1877, beloved husband and father. The influenza had taken him so quickly that Faith still expected to see him walking through their cabin door each evening, covered in dirt from the mine, his smile bright despite his exhaustion.
They stood in silence for what felt like hours, though it couldn't have been more than 20 minutes. "Emma began to fuss more insistently, hungry and uncomfortable despite the shelter of the umbrella. "You should get your baby home, Mrs. Sullivan," Colton said softly. No hint of impatience in his tone.
Faith nodded, knowing he was right. "Yes, I suppose I should." She hesitated, then asked. Did you know Thomas well, Mr. Reed? Not as well as I would have liked, he admitted.
We worked the same shift at the Silver Creek Mine for a spell. He spoke of you and your daughter often, proudest man I ever met. A fresh wave of grief washed over Faith, and she clutched Emma tighter. "I don't know what I'm going to do," she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them. Colton shifted slightly, keeping the umbrella firmly over them.
If you'll allow me, I'd be happy to see you safely home. Faith looked up at him again. Colton Reed was not what most would call handsome, with his weathered face and the thin scar that ran along his jaw, but there was something in his steady blue eyes that spoke of honesty and decency, rare commodities in a mining town like Silver Gulch. Thank you, she said. That would be kind.