voice, trying to surpass the others.
The high-spirited chatter put Nate at ease, reminding him of his childhood. It sounded so familiar, in fact, he almost grinned. Even now, when his family gathered for a meal, the result was much the same.
Hannah took her daughter’s bowl, carrying it to the stove to appease Jemma’s request. Alice spread another thin layer of yellow on John’s bread and, with Jason tugging on his sleeve, asking please yet again, Nate tried to think of an entertaining story. In the midst of all the activity, he somehow heard the low creak of a floorboard.
“Jed,” Alice announced softly before he could look in the direction of the sound.
Silence fell, swift and sudden. The older woman’s pale face filled Nate with concern. He glanced over at Hannah, wanting to see her reaction. She stood still, a statue by the stove, her expression a blank mask. His gaze next traveled to the children, each one silent, heads bowed with eyes cast down, then finally to the doorway behind him. The man standing there was an unsettling sight.
Jed and Nate were of equal height but he appeared shorter, standing stooped over like an old man. Clothing hung off limbs like the sticks of a scarecrow. Blond hair appeared a deep shade of brown, falling about his face in dirty, greasy locks. His face had the pale, grayish tinge of a person too ill to go outside for long. He barely recognized the man.
“Too.” Jed’s voice came out harsh and gravely as though it had been long unused. He waved one badly shaking hand at them. “Loud.”
“Sorry, Pa.” All his earlier eagerness gone, Jason’s tone was low and flat.
Jed nodded in response then went back into his room without another word. He didn’t bother to shut the door. Nate watched him shuffle across the bedroom to sit facing the window again, looking out into the dark, rocking. John made a wordless sound of distress. In silence, Alice got up and went over, shutting her son’s door with a soft click that sounded almost explosive in the dead-quiet room.
As Alice walked back, Jason pushed away his half-eaten bowl of stew and stood. “I have chores.”
John slid from his chair, joining his brother by the front door. Barely making a sound, the boys shrugged into their coats and mittens, then went outside. Nate stared after them, worried by their transparent excuse to escape the house. Their chores were already finished, done before supper.
His gaze shifted to Alice. She’d returned to her chair and sat staring in the direction of Jed’s room, the sheen of tears in her eyes. Troubled, he looked away, seeking Hannah. The woman had also moved back to the table. He heard a flow of comforting words murmured to her daughter as she snuggled Jemma in her lap.
His appetite lost, Nate stood up and headed for his coat, feeling the need to check on the boys. Hannah joined him as he fastened his last button. She handed him a lantern.
“You’ll find them in the barn with Meadowlark.”
Though it was common for even young children to have chores involving animals, seeing how upset the boys had been, Nate was concerned. “If she feels protective of her foal, she may snap.”
“They know better than to get into the stall with her.”
“At a time like this, you trust they’ll remember?”
“No, one of us follows them out.” She didn’t sound offended, just tired and matter of fact. “Tonight, it seems, you are.”
“Oh.” Nonplussed, he accepted the lit lantern, started to open the door, then halted. “Why go to the horse?”
“Meadowlark was their mama’s favorite.” A small, somber voice drifted up from where Jemma stood among the folds of her mother’s skirt again.
Nate looked down at the red-headed child. Several strands had escaped her braids, giving her a messy halo of hair. As she peeked up at him, her sad, serious green eyes appeared familiar somehow.
“They miss her.”
Three simple words relayed an understanding far wiser than her years. With a solemn expression, Jemma studied him. Nate got the impression she was measuring his worth, waiting for a response. He found himself not wanting to disappoint her.
“I understand.”
“Good.” The child turned around and scurried over to Alice, crawling up into the older woman’s lap.
Without another word, Nate headed out into the night. Worry quickened his steps on the unfamiliar dark path but he reached the barn safely. Once there he blew out the lantern and eased open a door, slipping inside.
One swift glance down the length of the barn revealed the boys standing in front of Meadowlark’s stall. Nate moved closer quietly, trying not to let them know he was there. He stepped up onto a hay bale for a better vantage point next. The foal lay in a nest of straw in a corner of the stall while the mare stood against the door. Only the murmur of voices and the soft nickers received in response were clear but he didn’t need to know what they were saying. All that mattered was they were safe.
Finding comfort in the company of horses was something Nate identified with strongly. Loath to disturb them, he remained in the shadows, allowing the boys a measure of privacy. They stayed for some time but when they finally shuffled by him, their tears had dried.
Nate trailed them home. Once they’d slipped safely inside, he relit the lantern and returned to the barn. There he spent a few moments with Jack, giving him affection, then did one final check on all the animals before returning to the house. Alice answered his soft knock, opening the door for him. The room was still almost eerily quiet and not one child, or Hannah, was in sight.
Assuming the young woman was settling the children down for the night, Nate followed Alice to some chairs, taken from by the table, near the fire. He waited until she sat before taking a seat himself.
For a moment, Nate studied the woman, who was like a second mother to him, while he figured out the best way to start what promised to be a hard conversation. Her hands clasped together in her lap surprised him. She always had a project. Even at the end of a difficult day, he’d seen her sewing or knitting. Once he’d asked her why she didn’t rest and she’d said it was her way of relaxing. At fifteen he’d found her answer odd, now an adult, he understood.
“Tell me.” His words were simple, delivered in a kind tone.
Her sigh, almost soundless, washed over him with a wave of emotion. “I can’t get through to him. He won’t listen to me.”
Nate kept his jaw from dropping with effort but couldn’t help shaking his head. Although he’d witnessed the sorry state of the man himself, her statement was hard to accept. Jed had always been especially close to his mother. He treated her with the utmost respect. Even after he moved away, a grown man, he’d returned to the Bar 7 as often to visit as to get advice because he genuinely valued Alice’s opinion.
“Hard to believe?”
“Yes.”
“For me too.”
“What changed?”
“What hasn’t?” Heart-deep sorrow filled her eyes, then she shifted her gaze from his to look at the fire.
“I
