Chapter 2
The hour before dawn found Levi Crandall pacing the length of the parsonage’s sitting room, his daughter tucked against his shoulder.
The little girl’s body burned hot beneath her thin nightdress, and her small fists twisted tight in the fabric of his shirt.
She had been crying since two o’clock, a thin, exhausted wail that tore at him with every breath.
Levi shifted her weight to his other arm and continued his slow circuit from the cold hearth to the far window and back again.
“Easy now, little one,” he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion. “I’ve got you.”
Nora whimpered and burrowed closer, her damp cheek pressed against his collar. Her distress filled the quiet house where Ruth’s laughter once lived. Levi reached the window and stopped, staring into the darkness. The ridge line stood black against the sky as it began to lighten.
Eighteen months of these nights had taught him the exact shade of the coming dawn. He used to pray at this hour, offering fervent, hopeful words lifted toward a God who always used to listen. Now the words would not come. The silence inside him felt louder than his daughter’s cries.
He resumed his pacing as Nora began to stir, one broad hand rubbing slow circles on his daughter’s back. The motion had soothed her as a newborn, but it helped less these days. These days, it seemed there was very little he could do to comfort her.
The kitchen door creaked open as Grace Callaway let herself in, her shawl wrapped tight against the mountain chill. She had come by every morning since Ruth’s death, as steady as the sunrise. From day one, she had been a godsend.
“Pastor,” she said gently, wiping her hands on her apron as she crossed the kitchen. “Let me take her.”
Levi surrendered his daughter without protest. Nora fussed for half a second, then melted against Grace’s shoulder with a shuddering sigh. Within a minute, her cries eased into small, hiccuping breaths. The relief in the room was immediate.
Grace patted the child’s back with practiced ease. “There now, sweet girl. Auntie Grace has got you.” She glanced at Levi, her eyes kind but tired. “A letter came on yesterday’s stage.” She nodded toward the kitchen table, where she had deposited a single envelope now resting beside the fruit bowl.
Levi picked it up. The handwriting looked feminine. He tore it open and read it standing, the paper crackling in the quiet.
Dear Pastor Crandall,
I am a widow of twenty-five years, writing from Philadelphia. I am of steady character and Christian faith, competent in household matters, and eager to make a new life in the West. I would be honored to accept your offer of marriage and help raise your daughter.
The letter continued in the same modest vein. Levi read it twice while Grace settled into a chair, with Nora still nestled in her arms. The little girl’s eyelids had already grown heavy. “Well?”
“Louisa Pallister,” Levi said. “Twenty-five. Widow.”
Grace studied him for a long moment. “You’ve been carrying this house and child alone long enough, Levi.
I cannot keep coming at first light for the rest of my life.
Hector needs me at home, and I have my own duties.
Besides, Nora needs a mother’s guidance, especially now that she is getting older. ”
Levi’s jaw tightened. He knew she was speaking the truth. Perhaps he did not need a wife, but his daughter needed a mother, as much as he hated to admit it. That was why he had placed the advert in the paper. He sighed, knowing it was time to face reality now that he had received a response.
“I’ll send for her,” he said quietly.
Grace’s expression softened. “Good. The child needs more than an overtired father and borrowed help.”
Later that morning, after Nora had taken a little milk and bread, Levi carried her down the main street of Deer Lodge.
The town was lively this morning, with shopkeepers sweeping the boardwalks, the blacksmith hammering away at his forge, and a freight wagon rumbling past on its way to the general store.
At the telegraph office, Levi stepped up to the counter, still holding his daughter. With his free hand, he wrote a brief message on the provided form.
Train ticket enclosed. Depart for Deer Lodge on the 17th. Stage from Corinne will meet you. Levi Crandall.
He counted out the necessary coins from his pocket and slid them across the counter along with the folded draft for the rail fare. The operator tapped out the message without comment.
On the walk home, Levi took the back lane bordered by wild grasses and sage.
Nora’s breathing deepened just before they reached the gate, and her body went limp with sleep.
Levi let himself into the parsonage kitchen and carried her to the small cradle beside his bed.
He lowered her with careful hands, tucking the light blanket around her. She did not stir.
For a long moment, he stood at the kitchen window, gazing out across the yard toward the rocky ridge that guarded the valley. The morning sun had burned away the last remnants of gray, painting the mountains in sharp gold. Wind moved through the tall grass, whispering both promises and warnings.
Levi rested his forehead against the cool glass.
“Lord,” he said at last, his words strained and unfamiliar, “guide this woman safely along the long road West. Let her come without harm. And if it be Your will… give my daughter the mother she has never known. Help me be worthy of them both.” He stayed by the window until the ache in his chest eased enough to breathe.