I smelled warm bread. A loaf rested in her open saddlebag, golden at the crust, wrapped in white linen. It was so wildly out of place that I stared at it, blinking.
“You’ve brought supper,” I whispered. “That’s thoughtful.”
“I brought breakfast, actually. My name is Clara Nichols. I’ve taken the teaching position in Harmony. Mrs. Pruitt spoke about you and your children, and I thought I should introduce myself.”
“Poor timing.”
“I haven’t decided that yet.”
“Where are your children?”
“Asleep. All four. Inside.”
“All four?”
“Micah and Matthew. Sadie. Caleb.” I swallowed against a sudden wave of nausea. “They’re little. Please don’t let them come out by the steps. The snake’s still there.”
“They won’t. Now I need you to keep that arm quiet.”
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