"They don't understand that Mama works so hard because she loves us. Everything she does is for us, and now people are going to say even worse things, and it's not fair." Bo studied the girl, eight years old and already carrying the weight of adult concerns. "You're right. It's not fair."
"But life rarely is, Sarah. The question is what we do about unfairness when we encounter it." "What can we do? We can't stop people from talking." "No, but we can live our lives in a way that makes their talk meaningless."
"Your mother knows who she is, a strong, decent woman doing her best to raise her children right. That knowledge is more powerful than any gossip." Bo paused, choosing his words carefully. "And I can make sure everyone in town knows that nothing improper has happened here, that I was simply helping a neighbor in need."
"Will they believe you?" "The ones who matter will. The ones who don't—" Bo shrugged. "Their opinions aren't worth your mother's worry." Sarah was quiet for a moment, staring into the fire.
Then she asked, "Do you love my Mama, Mr. Callahan?" Bo felt like he'd been punched. "Sarah—" "It's okay if you do. I think I'd like it if you did." Sarah looked at him with eyes far too old for her face.
"Mama's been sad for a long time. Even before Papa died, she was sad. Papa wasn't always nice to her, especially when he drank the bad water. But you're nice to her." Sarah swallowed.
"You look at her like she matters." "She does matter," Bo said quietly. "Very much." "Then why are you going to leave?" The question hung in the air between them, unanswerable because Bo didn't have a good answer.
Why was he planning to leave? Because it was safe? Because staying would require him to change everything about the life he'd built? Because loving Kelly meant risking the kind of pain he'd sworn never to feel again?
"It's complicated, Sarah." "That's what grown-ups always say when they're making things harder than they need to be." Sarah stood up, brushing dirt from her worn dress. "I should get back."
"Just wanted you to know that if you decide to stay, if you decide you want to be part of our family, that would be okay with me. I think it would be okay with all of us." She walked away before Bo could respond, leaving him staring into the fire with his heart in turmoil and his carefully ordered world crumbling around him. The storm hit around midnight, and it was fierce.
Bo lay in his bedroll under the barn's overhang, listening to thunder that sounded like the end of the world and watching lightning that turned night into stuttering day. The wind howled across the prairie, tearing at anything not secured, and rain fell in sheets so thick Bo couldn't see the house through it. Then he heard it, a loud crack followed by a crash. Something had fallen.
Something big. Bo grabbed his hat and coat and ran toward the sound, squinting through the rain. As lightning flashed, he saw what had happened. A section of the barn roof had torn loose, the old boards and shingles no match for the wind.
The horses inside were screaming in panic, and Bo could see Kelly's milk cow trying to break free from her stall. He didn't hesitate. Bo ran into the barn, immediately soaked from the rain pouring through the damaged roof. The animals were in a panic, eyes rolling white, hooves striking at anything nearby.