Anna's eyes searched her face.
"All of us?"
"All of you."
Thomas stepped forward.
"I'll go."
Peter followed him.
Lucy took Clara's hand.
For the first time since they had entered the house, the children began to move together rather than huddle apart.
But as Elias lifted Samuel into his arms, Thomas caught his sleeve.
"Are you going to take us to the mountain?"
Elias looked down at him.
"Yes."
"Will we have to work?"
"No."
"Will you send us away if we're bad?"
The question seemed to steal the air from the room.
Elias crouched until they were eye to eye.
"No, Thomas. I will never send you away because you are bad."
Thomas studied him.
"Mother said nobody could promise that."
"Your mother was right to be careful about promises," Elias replied. "So I won't ask you to believe me today. I'll show you."
The boy looked at him for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
Outside, the wind had begun to rise.
And somewhere beyond the northern ridge, dark clouds were gathering over Blackpine Mountain.
The town doctor lived above his surgery on Main Street. He was a narrow man with a gray beard and a habit of muttering at his instruments.
When Elias arrived carrying Samuel, the doctor was preparing to eat breakfast.
He took one look at the child and abandoned his plate.
"Put him on the table."
Samuel began to cry.
Anna rushed forward.
"Please be gentle!"
The doctor stopped.
He looked at the girl, then at the small boy in Elias's arms.
"I will."
He examined Samuel's chest, listened to his breathing, and checked his temperature.
After several minutes, he straightened.
"Bronchitis. Perhaps pneumonia beginning. He needs warmth, rest, and medicine. If he'd been left another day or two, we might have had a different conversation."
Clara closed her eyes.
Elias gripped the back of a chair.
"Can you treat him?"
"Of course I can. But he needs someone watching him through the night."
Clara glanced at Elias.
"I'll stay with him."
Anna looked relieved, but Thomas shook his head.
"We don't have money."
Elias reached into his pocket.
"How much?"
The doctor named a sum.
Elias paid without hesitation.
Then he turned to the children.
"Is anyone else sick?"
Lucy raised her hand.
"My stomach hurts sometimes."
Peter said, "My shoes are too small."
Anna lowered her gaze.
"And I can't see very well at night."
The doctor examined all four children.
He discovered that Lucy was undernourished, Peter had an infected cut on his foot, and Anna needed glasses. Thomas was physically healthy, but he had not slept properly in weeks.
When the examinations were finished, the doctor pulled Elias aside.
"These children have been neglected."
"I know."
"Neglect leaves marks that medicine can't always reach."
Elias looked through the open door at Thomas, who was standing beside Clara.
"What do I do?"
The doctor sighed.
"Start by not making promises you can't keep."
Then he added, more gently, "And don't confuse providing for them with loving them. Children need both."
Elias nodded.
He had spent seven years learning how to survive without needing anyone.
Now he was being asked to learn something much harder.
How to remain.
By ten o'clock, Aspen Ridge had become a battlefield of rumors.
Some people believed Elias was a hero. Others thought he was a dangerous man who had somehow manipulated Clara Bennett into marrying him. The more respectable citizens worried about the children. The less respectable ones worried about what the arrangement might mean for the town's reputation.
Mayor Henry Caldwell summoned an emergency meeting at the courthouse.
The judge, Amos Bell, arrived shortly afterward, carrying a leather satchel and wearing an expression of deep irritation.
"I have been informed," he announced, "that Mr. Thorne intends to petition for guardianship of five children while simultaneously arranging a marriage with Miss Bennett."
A murmur moved through the room.
The mayor cleared his throat.
"That is correct."
Judge Bell removed his spectacles.
"Has anyone explained to Mr. Thorne that marriage is not a substitute for a suitable household?"
Reverend Whitaker rose.
"I have."
"And what did he say?"
"That he intends to build a home for the children, hire a teacher, and ensure that they receive proper care."
The judge frowned.
"Intentions are not evidence."
Clara stood from the front bench.
"Then let us provide evidence."
Every head turned.
She walked toward the table at the front of the room, carrying a small bundle of papers.
"These are the doctor's findings from this morning. Samuel is ill. Peter has an infected wound. Lucy is undernourished. Anna requires glasses. All five children have been living in a boardinghouse where they were denied adequate care."
Mrs. Briggs, seated near the door, flushed.
"That is a gross exaggeration."
Clara looked at her.
"Then perhaps you can explain why a four-year-old child was left without medical attention."
Mrs. Briggs opened her mouth.
No answer came.
Clara placed the papers on the table.
"I am willing to go with Mr. Thorne to the mountain and help care for the children. I will not pretend that we have everything arranged. We do not. But I have experience with children, and I am prepared to learn what I do not know."
Judge Bell looked at her carefully.
"Miss Bennett, you understand that this would be a substantial undertaking?"
"Yes."
"You understand that Mr. Thorne has no history of raising children?"
"Yes."
"And that his residence is remote?"
"I have heard the stories."
A few people laughed nervously.
Clara did not smile.
"I have also heard stories about men who abandon their families, women who neglect their children, and respectable citizens who turn away when someone needs help. Stories are not proof of character."
The judge leaned back.
"What exactly are you proposing?"
Clara took a breath.
"A temporary guardianship arrangement. Allow us to bring the children to the mountain for the winter. Require regular inspections. Require the children to attend lessons. Require Mr. Thorne and me to demonstrate that the home is safe and that the children are being properly cared for."
The judge tapped his fingers against the table.
"And the marriage?"
Clara looked toward Elias.
He stood near the back of the room, silent.
"I have not agreed to marry Mr. Thorne."
The room erupted in whispers.
Elias lowered his eyes.
Clara continued.
"I have agreed to help the children. Whether I marry him is a separate matter, and I will not be pressured into making that decision by a deadline imposed on frightened people."
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then Reverend Whitaker rose.
"I support Miss Bennett's proposal."
The doctor stood.
"So do I."
One by one, others followed.
The judge listened to them all.
Finally, he opened his satchel and removed a document.
"I will grant temporary guardianship for thirty days, subject to inspection. During that period, the children must remain together, receive proper medical attention, and begin regular lessons. Mr. Thorne must provide evidence that the mountain residence can support them through the winter."
He paused.
"At the end of thirty days, we will hold another hearing."
Elias stepped forward.
"I accept."
Judge Bell held up a hand.
"One more thing, Mr. Thorne."
"Yes, sir?"
"If you fail these children, I will remove them from your care."
Elias looked at Thomas, who was standing beside Clara.
Then he faced the judge.
"You won't have to."
The journey to Blackpine Mountain began shortly after noon.
Elias borrowed two wagons from the mercantile owner. One carried supplies, blankets, medicine, and the children's few belongings. The other carried the children themselves.
Clara rode beside the driver, while Elias led the way on his gray gelding.
The road climbed steadily through the forest. Snow lay in patches beneath the pines, and the air grew colder with every mile.
Thomas sat at the front of the wagon, watching Elias.
Peter and Lucy huddled beneath a blanket. Anna held Samuel, who was sleeping against her shoulder.
Clara sat beside them.
For the first hour, nobody spoke.
Then Lucy leaned toward Clara.
"Will there be a bed for me?"
Clara smiled.
"Yes."
"Will it be my own?"
"If you want it to be."
Lucy considered this.
"I've never had my own bed."
Clara felt something tighten in her chest.
"Then we'll make sure you do."
Peter looked up.
"Will there be a stove?"
"Of course."
"Will there be meat?"
Clara laughed softly.
"If Mr. Thorne has anything to say about it, there will probably be enough meat to feed a regiment."
From the front of the wagon, Thomas spoke.
"He can hunt."
"Yes," Clara said.
"He's good at it."
She looked at him.
"How do you know?"
"Father told us."
Thomas turned toward the trees.
"He said Mr. Thorne could track a deer through a snowstorm and find his way home in the dark."
Elias, riding ahead, heard him.
He did not turn around.
But his shoulders seemed to straighten.
The mountain road narrowed as they climbed. At one point, a fallen tree blocked the path. Elias dismounted, took an axe from his saddle, and began chopping.
Thomas watched him for a while.
Then he climbed down from the wagon.
"I can help."
Elias looked at him.
"You can hold the reins."
Thomas nodded.
It was a small thing.
But when the tree was finally cleared and the wagons moved forward, the boy climbed back into his seat with a different expression on his face.
He had been given a task.
And someone had trusted him to do it.
Blackpine Cabin stood in a clearing surrounded by tall spruce trees.
It was larger than Clara expected, though not nearly large enough for seven people. The main room contained a stone fireplace, a long table, two chairs, and a narrow bed. A second room held tools, hunting equipment, and sacks of supplies.
There was a small loft beneath the roof.
A shed stood behind the cabin, and beyond it lay a vegetable garden enclosed by a wooden fence.
The children climbed down from the wagon.
Lucy stared at the cabin.
"Is this where we live?"
Elias nodded.
"For now."
Peter looked at the stable.
"How many horses do you have?"
"Three."
"Can I see them?"
"After we've unloaded the wagons."
Anna stepped into the doorway.
She looked around the main room, then at the narrow bed.
"Where will we sleep?"
Elias hesitated.
He had not thought about the practical details with sufficient care.
Clara noticed.
"All right," she said briskly. "First things first. We'll need to rearrange everything."
She walked around the cabin, studying the walls.
"The loft can be used for the older children, provided we add a proper railing and make sure the ladder is secure. The small room can hold two beds. We'll put Samuel's bed near the fireplace until he's better."
Elias nodded.
"I can build another room."
"How long will that take?"
"Two weeks."
"Then we'd better make this work for two weeks."
She turned toward the children.
"Who wants to help me unpack?"
Lucy raised her hand.
Peter followed.
Anna remained beside the doorway.
"What about Thomas?"
Clara looked at the oldest boy.
"Thomas can help Mr. Thorne with the stable, if he'd like."
Thomas glanced at Elias.
The mountain man held out a pair of gloves.
"Would you?"
Thomas took them.
And for the first time since his mother's death, he smiled.
That first evening, the cabin was filled with noise.
Peter dropped a sack of flour. Lucy spilled a bowl of water. Anna discovered a box of old books and began arranging them on a shelf. Thomas helped Elias repair the stable door, while Clara prepared soup from the supplies they had brought.
Samuel slept near the fireplace.
For a few hours, the mountain seemed almost peaceful.
Then the wind began.
It came down from the northern ridge in long, mournful gusts, rattling the shutters and pushing snow through the cracks beneath the door.
Clara was stirring the soup when she noticed Anna standing beside the window.
"Is something wrong?"
Anna shook her head.
"Do wolves come here?"
"Sometimes."
"Will they come inside?"
"No."
Anna looked unconvinced.
Clara put down the spoon.
"Are you frightened?"
The girl nodded.
Clara took her hand.
"I used to be frightened of the dark when I was your age. My sister would sit beside me until I fell asleep."
"Did it help?"
"Very much."
Anna looked toward the fireplace.
"Mother used to sing to Samuel."
Clara swallowed.
"Would you like me to sing?"
Anna shook her head.
"No. I want to remember her voice."
Clara knelt.
"Then you should."
The girl began to cry.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
She simply folded into Clara's arms and wept with the exhausted grief of a child who had been trying to be brave for too long.
Clara held her until the tears stopped.
Across the room, Elias stood in the doorway.
He had come inside carrying a basket of firewood. He watched them silently.
When Anna finally pulled away, she wiped her face with the sleeve of her dress.
"I'm sorry."
Clara brushed the girl's hair from her forehead.
"You never have to apologize for missing your mother."
Anna nodded.
Then she looked toward Elias.
"Does he miss someone?"
Clara glanced at the mountain man.
"Yes," she said. "I think he does."
Anna studied him for a moment.
Then she went to the table.
"Will you tell us a story, Mr. Thorne?"
Elias looked startled.
"Me?"
"Mother used to tell stories after supper."
He set down the basket.
"I don't know many stories."
Thomas appeared in the doorway.
"Father said you knew about the stars."
Elias glanced at the children.
Then at Clara.
She gave him a small, encouraging nod.
He sat beside the fireplace.
"All right," he said. "I'll tell you about the stars."
And for the next half hour, Elias Thorne spoke of constellations, ancient travelers, and the people who had used the night sky to find their way across the wilderness.