Cora discovered three things during her first morning as Mrs. Mercer.
First, Wyatt rose before dawn.
Second, Caleb and Seth considered bathing a form of punishment.
Third, no one in the Mercer household possessed the slightest idea how to maintain a civilized kitchen.
She came downstairs while the windows were still black and found a battlefield.
Yesterday's bowls sat crusted with oatmeal.
A skillet soaked in greasy water.
Boot prints crossed the floor.
Something she sincerely hoped was mud had hardened beside the pantry.
A dead mouse occupied one corner.
Cora stood in the doorway.
Wyatt entered behind her carrying firewood.
"Morning."
She pointed.
"Explain."
He looked around.
"Kitchen."
"I recognized the kitchen."
"Then I'm confused."
"How long has it looked like this?"
Wyatt considered.
"Four years?"
Cora stared.
His expression changed slightly.
"That's the wrong answer, isn't it?"
"Impressively wrong."
She rolled up her sleeves.
By sunrise she had scrubbed the table, scoured pans, swept the floor, and thrown away three unidentified substances found behind the stove.
The boys wandered downstairs.
Caleb stopped.
"What happened?"
"I found the floor."
Seth frowned.
"Why?"
"Because someday archaeologists would have discovered it and assumed your family was extinct."
Neither boy understood.
Wyatt did.
His mouth twitched.
Breakfast was oatmeal.
Seth refused.
"I don't eat mush."
"You ate it yesterday."
"Yesterday I didn't have you."
Cora placed the bowl in front of him.
"Tragic development."
He folded his arms.
Caleb watched quietly.
The older boy was different from Seth.
Seth fought openly.
Caleb watched.
Calculated.
Tested.
Cora knew his type from the classroom.
A child who had learned that adults disappeared eventually saw no reason to invest in them.
She began lessons after breakfast.
The boys protested.
Wyatt ignored them and went to the barn.
Cora converted one end of the dining table into a classroom.
Caleb could read better than Wyatt suggested but disliked doing it aloud.
Seth knew his alphabet except for Q, which he claimed was "a stupid letter."
By noon, Cora had established three rules.
No leaving lessons without permission.
No insulting one another.
And shoes remained outside when muddy.
Seth broke all three before lunch.
By evening, Cora's patience had eroded.
She attempted cornbread.
The recipe should have been simple.
It wasn't.
The woodstove burned hotter than the one at her boardinghouse. She became distracted separating Caleb and Seth after Seth accused his brother of stealing a carved soldier.
When Cora finally pulled the pan from the oven, the bottom was black.
The center remained nearly raw.
She stared at it.
"No."
Seth appeared beside her.
He sniffed.
"You killed it."
"Thank you, Seth."
"Smells dead."
"Go sit down."
By supper, Cora served beans, salt pork, and the least terrible sections of cornbread.
Wyatt had come inside after dark, exhausted from repairing storm damage to a fence.
Everyone sat.
Seth picked up a piece of bread.
He squeezed it.
Then looked at Cora.
"Looks like cow shit."
Caleb snorted.
Cora's exhaustion ignited.
"Seth."
The boy grinned.
Then he threw the bread.
It struck the wall and dropped to the floor.
Cora stared at it.
She thought of the schoolhouse.
The council.
Her landlord.
Her two nickels.
The filthy kitchen.
The hours spent cooking.
The boy's contempt.
Something snapped.
She slammed the cast-iron skillet onto the table.
The bang made both children jump.
"I did not ask to be here."
Silence.
Cora's hands trembled.
"I did not want my school to burn down. I did not want to lose my job. I did not want to marry a stranger because I had nowhere else to go."
Wyatt watched her without moving.
Cora leaned toward Seth.
"But I spent an hour scraping filth from the plates you eat from. I hauled water. I cooked this meal. And whether it tastes like Sunday dinner or boot leather, you will not throw food at my walls."
Seth's grin vanished.
"You will eat the burnt bread and shut your mouth, or you will go hungry until you're willing to beg me for it."
The moment the words left her mouth, Cora regretted them.
Her anger disappeared.
Seth was seven.
His mother was dead.
Caleb looked stunned.
Cora swallowed.
Surely Wyatt would tell her to pack.
Instead, he calmly picked up a piece of cornbread.
He bit into it.
Chewed.
Swallowed with visible effort.
"Bread's burnt."
Cora stared at him.
Wyatt took another bite.
"Eat your dinner."
Caleb immediately picked up his bread.
Seth hesitated.
Then did the same.
Nobody said another word.
Later, after the children went upstairs, Cora stood at the sink.
"I shouldn't have yelled."
Wyatt leaned against the doorway.
"They needed it."
"They needed discipline. Not rage."
"There's a difference."
"I know."
Wyatt considered her.
"You're worried about becoming cruel."
Cora looked at him.
"Shouldn't I be?"
"People who enjoy cruelty don't usually worry about it."
She dried a plate.
"Your boys hate me."
"They don't know you."
"Caleb certainly seems committed."
"Caleb thinks everyone leaves."
Cora stopped.
Wyatt's gaze shifted toward the stairs.
"When Mary got sick, she was strong one morning and dead three days later. He remembers enough to know people can vanish."
"And Seth?"
"Remembers less. Hurts just as much."
Something softened inside Cora.
The next day she changed tactics.
She stopped trying to force affection.
Instead, she offered structure.
Lessons in the morning.
Chores afterward.
Free time before supper.
Caleb was responsible for firewood.
Seth collected eggs.
Cora turned arithmetic into practical problems involving horses and grain.
Caleb became interested despite himself.
She used dried beans to teach Seth addition.
He ate three of the teaching materials.
"Those weren't cooked."
"So?"
"So your stomach may punish you later."
It did.
Afterward, he stopped eating mathematics.
Days passed.
Cora discovered Caleb loved stories of explorers.
Seth liked animals and possessed a surprising talent for drawing them.
She discovered Wyatt owned shelves of books he rarely touched.
Mary had bought many of them.
One evening, Cora read aloud near the fireplace.
Seth sat on the floor pretending not to listen.
Caleb repaired a leather strap beside his father.
When Cora stopped at an exciting moment and closed the book, both boys looked up.
"That's it?" Seth demanded.
"For tonight."
"But they're trapped in the canyon."
"So they are."
"What happens?"
"Tomorrow."
Seth groaned.
Wyatt watched from across the room.
"You enjoy tormenting children."
"I was trained professionally."
By the end of the second week, Seth began sitting closer during stories.
Caleb began asking questions during lessons.
Neither called her Mother.
Cora never asked them to.
Something else was changing.
Wyatt.
At first, he had been only the massive stranger she had married.
Then she began seeing details.
He repaired the loose handle on her washbasin without mentioning it.
When she struggled with the woodpile, he quietly split smaller pieces that were easier for her to carry.
He remembered she preferred coffee with milk.
He left the best portion of venison near her plate but pretended it had happened accidentally.
Cora noticed everything.
She pretended not to.
One evening, while snow fell outside, Wyatt found her sewing Seth's torn shirt.
"You don't have to do that."
"Unless you intend to teach him sewing."
"Could."
"Can you sew?"
"No."
"Then our options are limited."
Wyatt sat opposite her.
After a moment he said, "House sounds different."
Cora glanced up.
"Different how?"
"Used to be quiet."
"Your sons are incapable of quiet."
"Not that kind."
He looked toward the fire.
"It felt empty."
Cora's needle slowed.
"Doesn't now."
Their eyes met.
For a second, the bargain between them seemed dangerously fragile.
Cora looked away first.
Three days later, Wyatt gathered both boys near the back door.
Heavy snow had fallen overnight.
He pointed toward the western ridge.
"Creek's freezing over. Nobody goes beyond the split pine."
Caleb nodded.
Seth rolled his eyes.
Wyatt crouched until he was level with him.
"I'm serious."
"Why?"
"Snow covered the rocks. Ice near the creek isn't solid."
"I know."
"Say it back."
Seth sighed dramatically.
"Don't go past the split pine."
"Good."
Wyatt looked at Caleb.
"You watch your brother."
Caleb bristled.
"I'm not his keeper."
"Today you are."
Cora listened from the kitchen.
Something about Wyatt's tone made her uneasy.
By late afternoon, the boys had finished lessons and chores.
They disappeared outside.
Cora kneaded biscuit dough while Wyatt worked in the barn.
An hour passed.
Then she heard it.
A scream.
Not playful.
Not angry.
Terrified.
"CORA!"
Her hands stopped.
The second scream came from beyond the trees.
She ran.
No coat.
No gloves.
Nothing.
The snow swallowed her shoes to the ankles as she raced toward the split pine.
Branches tore at her sleeves.
"CORA!"
"Seth!"
She broke through the trees.
Caleb stood in the snow, white-faced.
"Help!"
Cora looked down.
And the world narrowed to red spreading over white.