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Ruth slips on her robe, pulls the belt tight and opens her bedroom door a crack so no one will see her packed suitcases at the foot of her bed. Celia peeks inside.

"So sorry to disturb you, Ruth," she whispers. "But Mary Robison is here and she isn't well. Arthur thinks maybe you could be of help."

"Goodness, it's awfully cold for her to be out."

Stepping aside so Ruth can pa.s.s, Celia whispers, "And it appears that she walked. She's frozen. Frozen solid."

Ruth shuffles into the kitchen, her slippers sliding across the cold floor, and sits next to Mary. Until Ruth touches Mary's sleeve, she doesn't seem to notice Ruth. When she does, Mary lifts her head and smiles.

"So good to see you, Ruth."

Ruth takes both of Mary's hands and rubs them gently between her own. "You're like ice. Some coffee?"

"Milk, please, and one sugar."

Kneeling in front of Mary, Arthur wraps one end of the quilt around her feet. "That better?" he asks.

Celia pushes two mugs across the table and sits in a chair opposite Ruth and Mary. Arthur sits next to her.

"Nice of you to visit, Mary," Ruth says. "I hope you'll let Arthur drive you next time."

She holds up a finger to quiet Arthur when he starts to talk. After so many years, at least twenty, she feels like the big sister again.

"Did you mean to come here?" Ruth asks even though she knows the answer.

"We used to be such friends, didn't we?" Mary says, watching Ruth rub her hands over Mary's. "The three of us. When we were girls."

"We're still friends," Ruth says, beginning to knead each of Mary's fingers. Slowly, they are warming.

"Only two of us. And not like we were."

"Girls grow up, I guess," Ruth says. "Responsibilities and such. Not so much time for friends."

Making a humming noise, Mary presses her face toward her coffee cup as if letting the steam warm her cheeks and nose. "I remember when we stopped being such friends. The three of us. Do you remember?" Mary pauses and says, "The day Orville Robison got off that train."

Ruth lifts her eyes toward Celia and Arthur. "Yes, that was a long time ago."

She swallows. Her heart begins to beat against her chest. She tries to slow it by taking one deep breath after another. Ma.s.saging Mary's littlest finger, Ruth concentrates on the tiny veins that spread like frail blue vines across the back of Mary's hand.

"Do you remember?" Mary says. "It rained the day he came. First good rain in so many years. All the dust put to rest that day. Do you remember? Everyone in town thought Orville Robison brought us a miracle."

Ruth tries to lift her eyes to Mary but she can't. Instead, she lays Mary's hands in her lap and covers them with her own.

"I thought I was marrying a miracle worker. So carried away with him. Big and broad as a barn. And so handsome. Wasn't he handsome?" Mary lifts Ruth's chin with one finger. "He did it, Ruthie. He hurt your Eve. When she was so young. He hurt your Eve, did things to her no man should be doing to a child. And then your family came home again. After all these years, they haunted him like a ghost. Hurt him especially to see the little one." She cups Ruth's face with one hand. "I didn't know how to stop him."

Wondering if Arthur hears the rustling outside the kitchen window, Celia nudges him, but he is listening to Ruth and Mary Robison and he brushes her away. She has been trying to follow the conversation, but isn't able to because she can't shake the feeling that something is watching her. Outside the window over the sink, the maple tree's bare branches tap on the side of the house and the porch light throws long, thin shadows that skip into the corners of her eyes, startling her. She's a little jumpy, that's all. So much has happened. Celia takes a deep breath and exhales as she moves her chair closer to Arthur's.

"What is it you're saying, Mary?" Arthur asks, scooting to the edge of his seat.

Ignoring for a moment that it seems someone is lurking outside the kitchen window, Celia realizes that she missed something very important. She reaches for Arthur's arm, but he pulls away.

"Arthur," she whispers. "Let's not lose our tempers."

Again, Arthur ignores Celia. "Tell me, Mary," he says.

Keeping one hand on Arthur's forearm, Celia shifts in her seat to face Ruth. "I don't understand, Ruth," she says. "What's going on?"

Ruth doesn't answer. Instead, with her hands covering Mary's, she stares over Celia's shoulder. Celia slowly turns. There, in the dark window with the maple's bare branches bouncing in the north wind, a large shadow slips by. Celia jumps up, the back of her chair bouncing off the kitchen cabinets and catching her left ankle. She stumbles and cries out, but before she can steady herself, Arthur grabs her arm and yanks her backward.

"Go," he says, stepping in front of her and waving them all toward the front bedroom. "Get all the girls. Shut the door. Lock it."

Celia limps around the table, keeping her eyes on the window even though the shadow is gone now and hurries Ruth and Mary toward the farthest bedroom-Ruth's room now that she stays with Elaine.

"What is it, Mama?" Evie calls out from her room.

"Here, Evie. Come here." Celia grabs Evie's arm like Arthur grabbed hers, hustles Ruth and Mary into the room, and pulling Evie in after them, she slams the door behind her.

"Mama," Evie says, jumping into the middle of Ruth's bed and tucking her knees up under her. "What is it?"

Celia presses her ear to the closed door as she waves at Ruth to back away. "Sit down," she says. "It's nothing. Nothing."

"Celia, did you see?" Ruth says, helping Mary to sit on the bed.

Celia glances around the room, which is brightly lit with two lamps and the overhead light. At the end of Ruth's bed sit two suitcases. "The lights," she says, though she doesn't know why. "Put out the lights."

"Why?" Evie says. "What is it?"

"Please, shut them off."

Ruth turns off the two lamps near the bed as Celia flips the switch on the wall. The room falls dark. The house is quiet. Celia stands at the door, listening but hearing nothing.

"I know what it is, Mama," Evie says, her voice floating up out of the darkness.

Three silhouettes sit on the bed, smallest to tallest. The smallest sits up and lifts her head.

"It's Uncle Ray."

Chapter 34.

Daniel stops in the shadow of the barn, his shotgun propped over one shoulder. His crooked toes are numb and his fingers have gone stiff. The cold, dry air burns his mouth and throat each time he inhales. The day was only warm enough to melt the very top layer of snow. Now, with nightfall, the slippery coating has frozen to an icy sh.e.l.l. With every movement, every step, the snow crackles underfoot. Trying to stand still, he breathes into a cupped fist to warm the air before taking it in again. He leans forward, out of the shadow. Straight ahead, between the house and the barn, the porch light glows in a perfect circle, and in its center, stands Uncle Ray.

Evie says Uncle Ray has shrunk since they moved to Kansas, that little by little, he has started to dry up. She showed Daniel the picture of Aunt Eve and Uncle Ray when they were young, not so long before Aunt Eve died. Back then, Uncle Ray was tall and straight and strong. Like Dad. Looking at Uncle Ray now, his legs spread wide, a rifle braced against his chest and pointed straight at Dad, who is walking out of the house, his hands calming Uncle Ray the same way he calmed Olivia when she slit open her neck, Daniel thinks Uncle Ray looks plenty big.

Pressing back against the barn, Daniel feels suddenly hot. His jacket is heavy, so heavy that it's suffocating him. He rips off his stocking cap, takes a deep breath in through his nose and blows it out slowly through his mouth. He lets the cold burn his insides so it will wake him up, help him to think. Calm now. Calm. Breathe. In and out. Slowly. In and out. Watching the ground at his feet so that he steps only where he's already broken through the snow, he leans out again.

"I've had about enough," Uncle Ray says, his cheek lying on the stock of the gun. His head is hanging. Bad form, Ian would have said. "I've G.o.d d.a.m.ned had enough."

Uncle Ray shifts his weight, putting his left foot slightly forward and then his right as if he can't remember how to get off a good shot.

"Sure, Ray," Dad says, still trying to soothe Uncle Ray, and when Uncle Ray stumbles because he's still shifting his feet, Dad takes one quick glance at the house. "We've all had enough. d.a.m.n right about that."

"Ruth is coming home today. Ruth and that child of mine. And that'll be the end of it."

The porch light glows on the two men. Flakes of snow blowing off the roof sparkle in the air around them.

"Let's talk a bit," Dad says and begins to sidestep across the drive toward the garage a few yards away.

"No more d.a.m.ned talking." Uncle Ray stumbles again.

Dad stops, stands still.

"You call Ruth." Uncle Ray rams the gun toward Dad. "Call her now."

Continuing to sidestep away from the house toward the garage, Dad says, "She's not here. Left with Jonathon. Taking rolls on over to the Buchers."

Another step, farther away from the house. Closer to the garage.

"You heard about Ian, yes?" Dad says.

The closer Dad gets to the garage, the easier it is for Daniel to see him, but he can't see Uncle Ray unless he steps out of the shadow and around the side of the barn.

"You know how Ruth is. Always trying to help out. She'll be back later. Soon enough, I'd guess."

Holding his breath and leaning as far as he can without stumbling outside of the shadow, Daniel listens for Uncle Ray's voice. He leans too far, and when startled by a loud bang, he falls forward through the icy crust on a patch of fresh snow. There is another bang. Metal against metal. Olivia's gate. He ran through it on the way to the prairie dog mound, and like he did when Olivia was alive, he left it open. Now it's banging in the wind that has stirred up since the sun set. Daniel jumps up, scrambles to his feet and falls back against the barn.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Uncle Ray shouts.

He must be looking straight at the barn now, probably with his gun pointed at the dent Daniel made in the snow, except Daniel is standing in the shadows, not breathing, not moving, and Uncle Ray doesn't see him.

"Just that old gate," Dad says.

From the sound of his voice, Dad is almost to the garage. Daniel leans against the barn, breathing so fast and deep that he doesn't have time to think. He swallows and leans forward. Dad has taken a few more steps toward the garage, and Uncle Ray is following Dad with the tip of his rifle again, slowly turning his back on the house. Pressing against the barn, Daniel remembers the shotgun propped over his shoulder. Grandpa's old shotgun. Dad thinks he'll find it in the garage, behind the door, behind the oil barrel, under the blanket. He knew Uncle Ray would come one day. He knew it and was ready. Except he isn't ready because Daniel has the gun.

"Where you going, Ray?" Dad says. "I told you she's not here. Gone off with Jonathon."

Uncle Ray is backing toward the house, his rifle still pointed at Dad.

"I'm no d.a.m.n fool, Arthur. You stay put. Stay right there."

Near the bottom stair leading up to the porch, Uncle Ray slips. He drops the tip of the rifle for a moment and grabs the railing to right himself before aiming the gun back at Dad. If he would turn slightly to his left, he might see Daniel, leaning out of the shadows, watching.

"Ruth," Uncle Ray shouts up the set of stairs. "Get your d.a.m.n self out here."

"She won't hear you, Ray. She's gone off."

Uncle Ray backs up the stairs, stumbling but holding onto the railing with one hand and balancing the gun with the other. At the top of the stairs, he pushes the latch on the screened door with his elbow, kicks it open and disappears onto the porch. Before the door has slammed shut, Dad slips into the garage.

The path from the side of the barn through Olivia's gate is waist deep with snow. Daniel runs toward the garage, throwing his knees high, but before he reaches the gate where he can step onto the cleared gravel, the porch door swings open again and Uncle Ray walks out, dragging Aunt Ruth behind him. She carries two suitcases with her, causing her to stumble and trip.

"Ray," Mama shouts from inside the house. "The baby. Be careful of the baby."

By the time Uncle Ray and Aunt Ruth reach the bottom step, Dad is back outside the garage, looking left and right as if he might find his shotgun wedged there in a snowdrift. Daniel, having squatted behind a fence post outside the glow of the porch light, squints toward the house. Mama is there, standing inside the screened door. Ahead of him, Olivia's gate bounces in the wind, the slide bolt rattling and the strap hinges creaking.

"Ray, stop," Mama shouts. "Leave her be."

Really, it's more of a scream, something Daniel has never heard before. The sound makes his stomach tighten as if he might vomit right here in the snow. Mama's scream seems to surprise Uncle Ray, too, because he shoves Aunt Ruth away from the house and aims his gun at Mama. Dad takes two quick steps but then stops.

"Take it easy, Ray," he says.

"I'll go, Ray," Aunt Ruth says. "See. I'm packed. Already packed to come home." She is standing on the hard, cold gravel in only her slippers and she is wearing Elaine's beige housecoat. Her hair hangs loose and blows into her eyes. "Please. Let's go. Leave Celia be."

Uncle Ray jabs his gun at Aunt Ruth, but she doesn't flinch the way Mama did. She's seen a gun up close before, Daniel thinks. She's had one pointed right in her face.

"You think I should leave here, Ruth?" Uncle Ray says.

"Yes. Yes. I'm coming with you. Coming home with you now. I'm ready. See?" she says, lifting one suitcase. "I was waiting on the weather. Just waiting for it to clear."

Dad takes two more steps toward Uncle Ray.

"Come down here, Celia," Uncle Ray says, aiming his gun at Mama again.

At this, Dad backs up.

Mama stands at the top of the stairs, her eyes locked on Dad. She starts to cry.

"Get down here, now."

Mama presses both hands over her mouth and doesn't even bother to brush away the hair that blows across her forehead and eyes. She shakes her head and takes the stairs one at time.

"You've been drinking, Ray." Dad is trying to calm him and, at the same time, looking all around at the ground and in the air for anything that might help.

When Mama reaches the bottom step, Dad presses one hand in the air to make her stop right there. Behind her, the porch door opens again. Mary Robison and Evie step outside. Standing side by side on the top stair, Mrs. Robison holds Evie's hand.

"Did you tell him, Ruth?" Mrs. Robison shouts across the drive.

Aunt Ruth shakes her head. "Not now, Mary." She chokes before the words come all the way out. "Go back inside, Evie."

Mrs. Robison smiles down at Evie, nods and Evie runs down the stairs and grabs onto Mama's legs.