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The suitcase clicked shut with a quiet finality that echoed through the small wooden cabin. Mary stood still for a moment, her hands resting on the worn leather handle, staring at the door like it was the only thing left in the world. Outside, the evening wind rolled across the prairie, rattling the loose boards of the porch. Inside, the house felt colder than it had in months. She had waited until sunset to pack. Caleb was usually still out in the fields by then, fixing fences or checking the cattle. – Part 7
Clara looked around the warm kitchen, at the bread dough rising under a cloth, at the drawings May had pinned to the wall, at the...
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