Chapter 2 - TWO CRIES IN THE STORM
The first child was born while the wind tried to tear the roof from the Mercer cabin.
A boy.
Small.
Purple at first.
Silent.
Abigail saw Ruth lift him and stopped breathing.
“Why isn't he crying?”
“Give me a moment.”
“What's wrong?”
“Abigail.”
“What's wrong with him?”
Ruth rubbed the baby's back.
Once.
Twice.
Then a tiny cry cut through the cabin.
Abigail sobbed.
Daniel stood behind a blanket Ruth had hung across the room, boiling water, feeding the stove, obeying every instruction without asking unnecessary questions.
“A boy,” Ruth said.
Abigail reached for him.
Ruth placed the baby against her chest.
He was impossibly warm.
Impossibly real.
Abigail had barely kissed his forehead when Ruth's face changed.
“No resting yet.”
Another pain had already started.
The second baby came eleven minutes later.
Another boy.
Louder.
Angrier.
Ruth laughed.
“This one objects to winter.”
Abigail cried and laughed at the same time.
She held both babies beneath the quilt.
For several minutes, the storm disappeared.
No father.
No wagon.
No shame.
Only two tiny breathing bodies.
Daniel remained on the other side of the room until Ruth said:
“You can turn around now.”
He did.
Then stopped.
Something changed in his expression.
Abigail immediately tightened her arms around the babies.
“What?”
Daniel looked toward the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.
Not the infants.
The blanket.
“Where did you get that?”
She frowned.
“My mother made it.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“May I?”
Abigail hesitated.
Then handed him one corner.
Near the hem was a small stitched symbol.
A circle crossed by two lines.
Daniel's face went pale.
“You know it?”
He looked at her.
“Who was the father?”
The room went quiet.
Abigail turned away.
Ruth said softly:
“You don't have to answer tonight.”
But Daniel was staring at the symbol.
Abigail noticed.
“Why?”
He swallowed.
“Because I've seen this mark before.”
“Where?”
Daniel looked toward the storm-dark window.
“On a notebook belonging to a man who worked with me last summer.”
Abigail's heart began pounding.
“What man?”
Daniel hesitated.
Then:
“Elias Ward.”
The world stopped.
One of the babies moved against her.
Abigail whispered:
“You knew Elias?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled immediately.
“My father said he ran away.”
Daniel's face hardened.
“No.”
“What?”
“Elias didn't run.”
Abigail stared.
Daniel continued carefully.
“He died six months ago.”
Her breath disappeared.
“No.”
“I'm sorry.”
“No.”
“My father said—”
“I know what people said.”
“No.”
She shook her head violently.
“He promised.”
Ruth sat beside her.
“Abigail.”
“He promised he'd come back.”
Her voice broke.
“He promised he'd take us away.”
Daniel lowered himself beside the bed.
“He may have intended to.”
Abigail stared.
“How did he die?”
“Mine collapse.”
She stopped.
Elias had worked at the Silver Crown mine.
Daniel too.
“Accident?”
Daniel did not answer.
That silence frightened her more than anything.
“What?”
Daniel looked at the stitched mark.
“Three days before the collapse, Elias told me he had proof someone was stealing land through forged claims.”
Abigail's heart began pounding.
“My father sells claims.”
Daniel's eyes met hers.
“Yes.”
Snow hit the window.
Ruth looked between them.
Daniel continued:
“Elias said if anything happened to him, the proof wouldn't die with him.”
Abigail looked down at the blanket.
Suddenly remembering something.
The night before Elias disappeared, he had come to the Pierce barn.
He'd held her face.
Promised he would return.
Then handed her mother something wrapped in cloth.
Abigail had never seen what.
But three days later, her mother began sewing this blanket.
Abigail whispered:
“Oh God.”
“What?”
May you like
She looked at Daniel.
“My mother made this after Elias died.”
