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  But her husband, as skittish as a colt, shied away slightly.

  Smiling in spite of this, she carried the kittens inside, praying for the children, praying that God would enable the youngsters to trust them. She worried that when she went back to the cave again, Colton and Lily might be gone. She rubbed the kittens’ furry heads under her chin as she had as a child. She remembered her first kitten, and that brought her father to mind.

  Why hadn’t she heard from him yet? And it would be a while before she heard from the neighbor she’d written to. Then she stopped to give thanks for her husband going to find out about the children. He is a good man. She knew this, but when it came to their marriage, something tightly bound him, holding him back from her. Dear Father, give me wisdom. And please let us help the children. Show me how. Show us how.

  Chapter Five

  A clap of thunder. Judith jerked awake. Sudden rain pounded on the roof, making it hard for her to hear anything but the steady beating. Remembering the roof at home, she looked up, not surprised to see no leaks. Asa Brant was not the kind of man to allow his roof to leak.

  “Judith,” Asa said loudly just outside the bedroom curtain-door, “It’s after dawn. I’m going to the barn—”

  Lightning streaked outside the window, and almost immediately, thunder shook their cabin. Judith leaped out of bed and hurried to the curtain. “Asa! That’s very close. Should you go out?”

  Another lightning strike. Boom! A tree nearby sounded as if it had exploded.

  Judith plunged through the curtain and clung to Asa. Like a boxer, the thunder pounded the cabin. The window panes rattled. Rain mixed with sleet sluiced down the windows, running, rushing away. She wrapped her arms around her husband’s chest, feeling the strength of him, breathing in his distinctive scent, her cheek against the soft flannel of his shirt. Asa’s arms encircled her, protecting her. She shivered with each blast of thunder throughout the violent assault overhead and all around.

  Then the unusually violent storm moved on, not lessening, just no longer overhead.

  She realized she’d been holding her breath and released it. “That was…frightening.” Then she remembered that she was in Asa’s arms and still wore only her nightgown. “Oh.” She retreated swiftly to the bedroom. She babbled, “I’ll be out right away and get busy with breakfast.”

  “No hurry.”

  She heard the door open, the insistent rain louder. Then the door shut, the rain hushed and she was alone again. She shook herself. She shouldn’t feel abashed. The storm had shocked her out of her reticence. And into her husband’s protection.

  After all, Asa was her husband, and her full, heavy flannel nightgown revealed only her hands, head and stocking feet. She sat down for a moment. The new kittens scampered into the room and leaped onto her bed. That jogged her mind.

  All thought about herself vanished—and she remembered the children. Alone in this storm. Would they come when invited? What would she and Asa do if they didn’t?

  *

  At the breakfast table, Judith waited till Asa finished saying his brief grace. “I’m worried about the children weathering this storm.”

  Chewing, Asa considered her.

  She waited.

  “Is their cave deep enough to provide cover?” he asked.

  Judith consciously relaxed herself, taking her cue from his calm question. Asa was right. She needed to think, not just worry. Glancing at the kittens asleep by the fire, she picked up her fork. “It had a rock projecting over the entrance. I don’t know how deep it was, though. I just glanced at it.”

  Asa gazed at a point over her right ear. “I reckon they must have left the Smiths only when the snow melted. Not easy to be tracked then. Boy’s pretty smart.”

  That might have been true, but he was still just a child. “It would have been a few days before the Ashfords and Emma came, and the pie disappeared.”

  “So they’ve been on their own a little over a week.” Asa folded his hands above his plate. His strong, capable hands always reassured her. “They should be coming to the conclusion that they need help.”

  “But you saw how skittish Colton acted, and you met Mr. Smith. The children are afraid of getting back into a bad situation. That makes sense, but how do we show them they can trust us?”

  Asa gazed at her then, seeming to weigh her words.

  She waited, resisting the urge to prompt him to speak. How can we help them, Asa?

  “When this rain has passed,” he said finally, “go invite them for a visit. Just a visit. Don’t want to spook them. Make them run again.”

  She tried to figure out his final words. Ah, so Asa thought if they feared that she and Asa would force them, they might run from the relative safety of the cave. Her tension eased. “I will, Asa.” And though she had no appetite, she began eating the warm, honeyed oatmeal, wishing she could share some with the children. She almost felt guilty as she ate.

  “Take them nothing but food.”

  His flat statement gave her pause. She tilted her head in question.

  “Can’t stay on their own. A blanket or anything will just keep them out there longer. They must feel their need is greater than their fear.”

  How had he known she’d just thought of taking them a blanket? Bowing her head, she nodded. “I will do as you say. It makes good sense.” She rested one hand on the table very near his, wishing he might reach for hers.

  For a moment, she recalled him holding her through the intense storm. Yes, Asa would always protect her, and he cared about these poor orphans. He’d gone to the Smiths’.

  Once again she wondered what he guarded so closely inside himself. Wondered about what kept him bound up, trapped, which bound her and their relationship up, too. But he had told her to take food to the children and she would, with gratitude.

  *

  After washing up, Judith packed a few butter-and-jelly sandwiches, a half-dozen oatmeal raisin cookies and a jar of fresh milk. The storm had moved far east of them, but outside everything dripped, and downed branches littered the clearing around their cabin. In the shade, some hail still lay white and frigid.

  She stopped at the barn door. She hadn’t appreciated Asa not telling her where he was going when he’d found the Smiths. But she had done the same to him, not telling him when she’d set the cake trap.

  She hoped that they could start working together, more as they had in discussing the children, not just living almost in parallel. “I’m going now, Asa. I shut the kittens in the cabin so they wouldn’t try to follow me.”

  “Good.”

  She bid him goodbye, and off she went in her rubber boots, into the trees. From the tall, tall pines, an occasional rain drop plunked onto the top of her bonnet. By the time she reached the cave, her boots were liberally coated with mud. And she shivered from the damp chill in the air.

  “Children!” she called out, approaching the cave. “It’s me. Mrs. Brant!”

  Looking damp, Colton was tending a small fire at the opening of the cave. A welcome sight. At least they had some warmth. The boy rose and gazed at her. His expression mixed wariness and relief.

  “I brought food.” She stooped down near the fire and drew out what she had. She glanced around. “Where’s Lily?”

  “She’s sleeping,” he said, unwrapping a sandwich. He nearly shoved it whole into his mouth.

  “Sleeping? This late?”

  He chewed and swallowed. “The storm woke her. She fell asleep again after it passed.”

  Judith tried to decide whether she should worry about this. She wanted to crawl into the cave to see Lily for herself, but Colton and the fire blocked the entrance. “Colton, Mr. Brant has told me to invite you and Lily to come for a visit.”

  The boy stopped eating and stared at her. “We’re fine. My traps work most every day, and soon there’ll be stuff to pick. My pa taught me. Lily and me’ll do fine.”

  “But we’d love to have you—”

  “Thanks, ma’am, but I’m taki
ng care of Lily. We’ll be fine.”

  She studied Colton’s face. She read there—in equal parts—determination and resistance. Judith swallowed words of opposition. Two children alone in a cave. Maybe they could make it through the summer, but again, what of the coming winter? “Very well, but the invitation will remain open. And if you need anything, you can come to us.” Asa hadn’t told her to add that, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Ma’am, thanks for the food. I’ll make sure Lily eats.”

  She found herself holding back offers of a blanket, soap, a comb. These two needed her for much more than food. Instead she straightened. “Well, then, I’ll head back home.”

  “Thanks again!” the boy called after her as she forced herself to walk away.

  She waved, afraid if she turned back, she’d grab both children and try to drag them home.

  When she reached her clearing, she went straight to the barn. Asa stood in the doorway, working beside the sawhorse table on his leather goods. “Colton said Lily was sleeping. He had a fire going at the opening of their cave, so I couldn’t go in and check on her. He refused our invitation.”

  Asa looked up. “Probably been picking up downed wood and storing it inside. Smart boy.”

  She worried her lower lip. “Everything is still soaked, the spring dampness is coming up from the thawing ground and it’s chilly.”

  He plainly considered this, gazing down and working at the leather with both hands. “The boy must figure it out. He can’t take care of his sister, do it all by himself.”

  She knew he was right, but that didn’t make it any more palatable. She turned to go in the house to begin her chores.

  “No more food,” Asa said to her.

  She swung back, startled. “What?”

  “That’s hard. But the quickest way. They get hungry enough, they’ll come.”

  Judith didn’t want to agree, but how could she disagree with his common sense? Still, worry churned in her midsection. “Very well, Asa.” She proceeded into the house, where she pulled off her muddy boots and damp jacket.

  She began praying as she moved to the kitchen counter to check on lunch, which was simmering over the fire. For a moment she paused, gripping the edge of the counter, drawing the strength to face this and follow Asa’s sensible advice. Father, bring the children home, here.

  *

  The next day came. Though she didn’t want to leave home, hoping that the children might come at any time, Judith walked to town to join the quilting circle. A sharp west wind whipped at the trees. She pined over the children. She’d so hoped that the chilly, damp night would have brought them to their door for breakfast. But no. Worry for them plagued her like a stitch in the side, a physical ache.

  Asa had been more somber than usual at the breakfast table. She had gotten maybe ten words from him. Did that mean he was worrying, too?

  At the top of the stairs behind the general store, she shed her muddy rubber boots and shook off a sudden tightening of her nerves. This would be her first social occasion alone with women of the town. She wanted to make a good impression. She knocked.

  Mrs. Ashford called, “The door’s open! Come in!”

  Judith stepped inside and shivered once from the difference from the damp cold outside and the warmth inside. And she smelled fresh coffee as she hung her shawl and bonnet on the pegs by the door. She followed the sound of voices to the front room, where ladies were gathered around the dining table. “Hello.”

  A chorus of women’s voices greeted her. Mrs. Ashford sprang up from her place at the head of the table and urged Judith to take the seat next to her sister. Judith sank into the proffered seat and shyly looked around at the faces turned to her.

  Most of which by now looked familiar. Mrs. Ashford repeated the names for her: Sunny, the preacher’s wife; Lavina, the woman who led the singing on Sundays; Ophelia, a school board member’s wife; and of course, Amanda needed no introduction.

  “A few are missing. Mrs. Lang, Ellen Lang,” Mrs. Ashford said, “Pepin’s first schoolteacher, couldn’t come out today. Sick baby.”

  “And Nan Osbourne,” Sunny added. “She wasn’t up to coming, so she said she’d watch our children.”

  Judith smiled at everyone and said all that was polite. Outside the large front windows, she saw the same thick layer of clouds that had hung over them since the hard rain. She tried not to think of the children in the cave. A day had passed since she last took them food. Father, please don’t let Colton wait too long.

  Worry acid bubbled low in her stomach. She brought up another polite smile. “What are we working on?”

  “We’re making another quilt to send to those Indians up north,” Mrs. Ashford said, sounding somehow disapproving and gracious at the same time.

  “My son Isaiah is helping an elderly missionary to the far northern tribe,” Lavina said, “mostly Chippewa, or some say Ojibwa. There is such want there.”

  “Yes,” Sunny agreed. “We are all working on quilt top squares, and then Mrs. Ashford and Amanda sew them together into a patchwork quilt top on her sewing machine. Then we put the quilt together.”

  Nodding, Judith drew out her needle, thread and fabric pieces she’d brought north with her with the purpose of beginning a quilt for her own home. Soon she was sewing her square, thinking of the cave children who needed much more than a quilt.

  “And how are the newlyweds?” Mrs. Ashford broke the companionable silence.

  Judith looked up, her face warming. “We’re fine. Just fine.” She hoped she sounded convincing. Her husband continued to hold her at arm’s length. Asa just needs to trust me with whatever he is holding back. The twin worries clutched her heart.

  Then they heard rapid footsteps coming upstairs and soon the greeting, “Hello!”

  The women all replied, “Rachel!”

  A petite woman with light brown hair entered, carrying a pan covered with a cloth. “I tried a new recipe.” She whipped off the cloth with a flourish. “Shortbread!”

  In all the gaiety of the ladies admiring the square golden cookies and tasting them, Emma leaned close to Judith. “Have you heard from Father? I sent him a letter and haven’t heard back. Do you think Mabel Joy would keep our letters from him?”

  The thought had not occurred to Judith. “Surely not,” she whispered in return.

  Then the two sisters were caught up listening to the conversation around them. Judith sampled a sweet, buttery shortbread. “Delicious.”

  “Rachel is married to the new county sheriff,” Mrs. Ashford told Judith and Emma with pride.

  “And his son, Jacque, is in my school,” Emma added. “He’s quite good at spelling.”

  This launched a full discussion of the upcoming spelling bee. The people here certainly deemed it serious. Judith’s mind drifted away to Asa at home and two children huddled in a cold cave.

  *

  Asa heard him before he saw him. Stepping to the open barn door, Asa saw Colton running through the brush toward their clearing. The boy’s haste alarmed Asa. He put down the tool he held and stepped outside. “What is it?”

  “Where’s the lady?” The boy bent over, panting. “We need her.”

  “She’s in town.” Asa hesitated, then moved forward. “Where’s your sister?”

  After staring at him as if coming to a decision, the boy turned and, waving to Asa to follow, began running back the way he’d come.

  Asa tried not to think through all the things that could go wrong with two little children alone in a cave. He caught up with the boy, running, hoping Colton hadn’t waited too long to admit he needed help. “What’s the matter?”

  The boy ignored him and ran faster.

  Worrying, Asa followed Colton as he burst into the small clearing. He saw the cave opening. “What’s wrong?” he repeated. He’d barely said the two words when he heard what was wrong. From inside the cave, a hacking cough, one filled with congestion. He’d heard that in the war, men dying of disease, their lungs fill
ing up. No, not here. “Fever?”

  “Yes.” The boy stared at him, his hands gripped together, white-knuckled.

  Asa bent and crawled into the cave. The little girl lay wrapped in a soiled quilt. “Lily, I’m here.”

  The little girl’s eyelashes fluttered. She looked shrunken and white like a crumpled piece of paper. He’d seen this before in the camp hospitals. She was dehydrated, and that was bad. No. He wouldn’t let death have her. Judith would know what to do.

  Quickly he tugged her to him and crawled backward out of the cave. When he could, he stood and lifted her into his arms.

  “What’re you doing?” Colton shrilled.

  “Taking her home to my wife.” Asa was already running through the woods, his heart racing. The child in his arms was burning with fever. I should just have come and carried them out of here two days ago.

  *

  Over an hour later, Judith glanced out the window and was shocked to see the west sky had turned a darker, more ominous slate gray. “Looks like another storm moving in.”

  Heavy boot steps shook the back stairs, and then the door rattled as someone pounded on it.

  Mrs. Ashford went toward the sound. “Who is it?”

  “Asa Brant! I’ve come for my wife.”

  His tone alarmed her. Something was wrong. Quickly stuffing her sewing materials into her bag, she hurried after Mrs. Ashford, who opened the door and let Asa in. Judith began donning her shawl and bonnet. “I was just getting ready to leave, Asa.”

  “Good.” He handed in her boots to her. “Another storm’s coming.”

  Leaning on his arm, Judith put them on quickly. “Thank you, Mrs. Ashford. Goodbye, everyone!”

  And then Asa was leading her down the stairs in the stiff wind. To keep up with him, she clung to his arm as they walked swiftly up the trail. The towering pines’ tops swayed around them. Something more than this storm had brought him. “What is it?”

  Asa leaned close. “Colton came. Lily’s sick. I brought her home.”

  “Sick?”

  “High fever. Bad cough.”

  “Oh!”

  “You know what to do?”

  “Yes, I do. I just hope—” Lightning crackled, interrupting her.