Epilogue
As Brance slowed the horses in front of the town’s small general store, he saw the first yellow buds of spring jonquils breaking through the stubborn clumps of snow that edged the store’s porch. The air didn’t have quite the same bite to it that had been there weeks before, and the tiny flowers promised warmer weather on the way. Time to think of tilling the land behind their stable, where Caleb hoped to plant some crops—tomatoes and peppers, at least, maybe some corn, maybe something else. He dreamed of straight rows like his father used to own, and spoke often of increasing their livestock, as well. Most days, Brance just let those dreams roll right over him. He wasn’t a farmer, and didn’t plan to become one this late in his life. But if it pleased his lover, then he’d see what
