I saw old Autumn in the misty morn

Stand shadowless

like Silence,
Listening
to silence

Thomas Hood, "Autumn"

As within the quiet waters passing,

Sun and moon and stars we view,

So the loveliness of life is glassing,

Child, in you.

And the fire divine in all things burning

Seeks the mystic heart anew,

From its wanderings far again returning,

Child, to you.

A.E., "Benediction"

Hannah's Cabin, late August, 1875

"Child, she's peaceful now. You let her rest. Go on."

Hannah came up behind Heath and draped a rough cotton blanket over his back. His shoulders were hunched with fatigue. In the low lamplight, she could see a few day's growth of beard and a world of worry on his weathered face. She gave him a little push toward the door.

"Go on, child. Just step outside and breathe the air. It'll do you good. Stay close – yes, I know you will – and I'll call if there's need."

He nodded, silently, his eyes on the still, sweat-beaded face on the pillow; so pale in the halo of her dark hair.

Hannah nudged him again; with her small hand on his broad back, she steered him gently away from the bedside he had barely left for several days. She opened the front door.

"It'll be sunup soon. We'll be having visitors. I'll put up some water for coffee, and get a little breakfast together."

She saw him take a deep breath and raise his eyes to look out over the misty, predawn landscape, his brow knitted in thought. The cool air spoke of summer's end. She could see the wheels turning, as he remembered the past days.

"Before you ask," she commented, "Audra took care of that lathered stallion of yours that you left tacked up and blowing here by my front porch. Charger is fine. He's a sight better than you, in fact - rested up and running the paddock fence, trying to start trouble with that giant black stud." She patted his back. "Go on. Shoo."

He gave her a tired, grateful glance, and stepped outside. Sunrise was still a hidden glow behind the hills to the east, just enough to wash the ink of night from the valley. That white shape to the south: that was the Big House, still dark and sleeping, though likely not for long. Light fog lay over the oak groves and pastureland all around them, silent shapes of green and dusky blue.

His gaze did not linger on the house. As a needle in a compass, his eyes were drawn north, to the cluster of trees above and behind the cabin. Hannah watched, unsurprised, as he drew the blanket around his shoulders and made his way up to the grove where stood Leah and Rachael's headstones.

That's good, child, she smiled to herself. Go see your mama and Rachael. You ain't much for talkin', but no need for words up there. They can hear you.

She turned back to her tasks. She checked on Rivka, then stoked the wood-burning stove, turned up her oil lamp, and began preparing some coffee and breakfast. She hummed softly as she worked, periodically checking out the windows, and carrying on her internal conversation with Leah and Rachael, as she so often did when her feelings were strong.

Hadassah and Victoria, they'll be coming early, and Audra too, most likely. The men-folk, though, that's harder to predict.

Up in the grove, she could see Heath's shadowed form, standing so still and silent by the two gravestones. They faced east, Hannah knew. She could picture how the carved granite would glitter in the early morning sun. The top of each bore a variety of small, pretty rocks, mementos of visits from Rivka and her family. The markers stood at the western verge of a large stone circle and cross, oriented to the points of the compass. A medicine wheel. Over the months since he had returned home, Heath carefully chose and placed each stone, and the wheel gradually emerged.

He knelt now in front of the markers, reaching with one hand to adjust something on the ground in front of him. A moment later, he extracted a match from his breast pocket. The flare of golden light glinted on his wheaten hair and beard and briefly illuminated his somber, intent expression. He touched the flame to two small bundles of sage, one before each headstone, then stood, with an attitude of one listening.

The sky brightened. It promised to be an extravagantly colorful sunrise, the result of a string of wildfires blazing erratically all along the eastern boundary of the ranch. Heath, Nick, and John had been roughing it up there for days, working with a crew of ranch hands and neighbors to build firebreaks and get people and livestock out of harm's way.

Heath had expressly forbidden Rivka's brothers to ride with them to the fire line, saying it was too dangerous. It was time for the boys to go meet up with their parents in their new Sacramento home, in any case, as it was time to begin the new school year. The two teenagers argued and pleaded, but were ultimately overruled. All thoughts of leaving went by the wayside, however, when Rivka went into labor.

Then those boys had to step up, Hannah remembered. And they surely did. Going to be fine men, those two.

They were here with Rivka when it began. The three of them were arguing and teasing - like only brothers and sisters can, I reckon - over that crazy round house they're building. She's had her hands full keeping track of those boys since the men rode up to the fire –

Her labor began in a normal way. Avram and David volunteered to go retrieve Heath, but Rivka insisted they ride to the Big House instead.

"Get Jarrod. He knows where the firebreaks are, and you don't know the country like he does," she managed, breathless between contractions. "Don't argue with me. Victoria or Audra can send word to Mama. I'm going to stay right here with Hannah. We'll be fine."

Yes, it all started out fine. Her water broke, and she was in hard labor by the time Heath came racing down out of the hills. He was filthy, sweaty, exhausted, and black with soot, and he just about ran me over trying to get in my front door.

"Mm-mm, no, absolutely not. You get your dirty self back around to that pump house and get cleaned up before you come anywhere near her. There're clean clothes for you on the shelf."

By the end of the first day, I could see Rivka was gettin' scared, 'cause she was laboring so hard and the baby wasn't comin' down. Heath never left her side, 'cept to bring her cool wet towels for her forehead and sips of juice and water. He was steady, and calm, holding her and murmuring sweet things, and her grippin' him when the pains came, so tight she left a few holes in his shirt – and a few in him, too.

The second day the fever started.

Audra wanted to gallop out to bring a doctor, but we knew Hadassah was on her way. The boys raced up-country to let the men-folk know there was trouble. Rivka wasn't in her right mind enough by then to tell them no.

Victoria and Silas stayed with me to help, and a better pair of sickbed nurses I don't think I've ever seen.

Oh, girls, that day was hard, hard, hard. Rivka is a fighter. The fever was up inside her, and the pain got worse and worse, but she never gave up. She never stopped fighting for that baby, even when she was burning up and in a delirium. She held on to Heath and cried to him – and laughed with him – and he'd tell her again and again that she was safe, and not trapped sick underground in that prison.

That talk was painful for the Barkleys to hear, seemed to me. Lord have mercy, it's hard for anyone to hear.

Hadassah got here middle of the second day. Heath had been doing his best to get sips of broth and sugar water into Rivka, but her fever was blazing, and the labor was getting weaker. We all knew that was bad. Rivka knew it, and I don't think I'll ever forget the look that passed between her and her mother. It was fear and love both; terrified, desperate, and deep as the ocean – and ferocious, stubborn grit.

Sometime that day the twins and the men-folk came on a tear out of the hills, and I made them wash up too.

Hadassah gave her girl something to stoke up the labor pains, which was a misery for poor Rivka, but it got the baby coming along, and fast.

That was good. But that was when the bleeding started. Lord, so much bleeding. Hadassah ordered everyone out, then, everyone except me and Victoria. Audra took the twins in hand and shepherded them off nearby. The men-folk had nearly to carry Heath away from the bedside – it took all three of them and Silas. Heath wasn't fightin' 'em, really – was more like he couldn't move away. Just couldn't. They had to make him go.

So Heath waited, out there in the dark in front of the cabin, still as a stone or an old mountain tree. At first he just stood there, frozen, listening, with his arms wrapped around himself. Silas sang and prayed with him, and after a little bit Heath melted a little, and let himself lean on John and his brothers. They couldn't get that boy to sit down, though, even though he looked about to drop.

Inside, Doctor Hadassah was in a battle to get the bleeding stopped, and me and Victoria were her soldiers, prayin' and jumpin' to do whatever she told us to do. Leah, my sweet girl, you know a little of what Hadassah must have been feeling in her mother's heart, deep in the fire and darkness of that battle. I thank God she was there to save her daughter.

Rivka stirred and made a small sound in her sleep. Hannah moved to the bedside to feel her forehead, glad to find she was cooler than she had been. A glance outside showed her distant lamp-lit windows: the Big House was waking up with the sunrise. Heath, she realized, was no longer in the grove behind the house. Curious, she stepped quietly out onto her porch and smiled to find Heath fast asleep in Silas' comfortable old rocking chair.

She put out her hand to adjust the blanket that had slipped from one shoulder and noticed a worn, much handled piece of paper, covered with Rachael's neat, flowing, achingly familiar hand. She tucked it safely back into his breast pocket. Hannah did not need to read the letter; she knew it word-for-word, by heart.

February 1872

Dear Heath,

Rachael is doing the writing, and I guess I'll do most of the talking, because I don't know for sure I'll still be here by the time they can call you down from up north.

Rachael doesn't want me to say that. I can see her face getting all stubborn like it does when she's sad.

She's been looking stubborn most all the time these past days.

She doesn't want to write that either, but she promised to write what I say, and I'm checking to make sure she does.

I hope I will be here. I want to see you. I miss you, my brave lion. I'm going to hang on as long as I can, because I want to hold you tight, and tell you I love you, one more time at least.

I never thought I would have to leave you so soon, Heath. I thought I would grow old watching you and Rivka raise up your own family.

We're all three of us orphans, of one kind or another, Hannah and Rachael and me. We wove together our own family. Rachael and Hannah are healthy as horses, but then, so was I, just a few months ago. Life can change in the blink of an eye.

Your father is dead, killed two years ago. Another blink of an eye I didn't expect. He was larger than life to me, when I was a girl. I want you to know his name, at least, and know who his people are. They are your people too, or they could be. He had a good, big heart, your father. Maybe – I hope – I pray - maybe that family does too.

I'm so sorry about leaving you, my son. If I'm not here to tell you when you come, Rachael and Hannah know.

Things were hard, sometimes, for all of us, but for me nothing ever was as hard as when you were gone in the war. The only thing that comes close were those days you went missing on the Tuolumne.

Every day I thank God, and I thank your scrappy, stubborn heart, for finding your way back home to me. To us.

Life could be brutal hard, but loving you, Heath, and loving this family, that was easy. It was the best thing I ever did in my life. No contest. And no regrets.

I wish I could meet Rivka and see you get married. I wish I could be there to hold your babies and weep like a happy fool, but it ain't gonna be, no matter how much Rachael scowls about it. I am sorry about that. You tell that girl you love that I will be always praying and watching out for both of you.

So if you do make it back before it's my time to go, I'll tell you all this myself, and I'll tuck this letter away with Rachael's ring, so I can be there to give you my love when your wedding day comes around.

I am so proud of you, my son. All three of us are, Rachael and Hannah and me. We are so proud of the man you have become. We love you, and we bless you, now and always.

Mama, Rachael, and Hannah

There came another soft sound of waking: a faint coo, and a whimper. Hannah leaned over and smiled at the sight: a perfect, petite baby girl; wrapped in a blanket and snuggled high up on Heath's shoulder, her face hidden against his neck. Lamplight spilled out from the cabin; the warm, mahogany shine of the baby's dark brown hair seemed to glow against his rough blonde beard. Her small body rose and fell with her father's slow, deep breath; Hannah imagined the baby was listening to the steady thrum of his strong heart.

One tiny fist, Hannah could see, had a tight grip on Heath's hair at the nape of his neck. The other had found its way to her mouth. The infant cooed again as she sucked on her knuckles. Her dark eyes blinked open.

"You're hungry, little one," Hannah whispered. "Your mama's had a rough few days, and she ain't all the way well yet, but she has what you're wanting. You c'mon with me."

Heath woke as Hannah lifted the tiny, softly breathing baby from his chest. He studied her face briefly, but seeing no new worry there, he returned her smile. She bent down and kissed his cheek.

"You go back to sleep while you can, child. Right now this little girl needs what her mama has."

He nodded, smiled again, and closed his eyes. Hannah settled the baby in the crook of her arm and regarded her thoughtfully.

You are a child of lions, little one. A child of love and courage.

Yochana. Rivka says it means 'God's grace'.

The beautiful baby was named for Hadassah's late mother, though John and Hannah had happily been debating whether she might in fact be named for one of them.

Yochana. Hannah tried to pronounce it a few times, with mixed success. It sounded lovely when Rivka said it, but Hannah stumbled on that unfamiliar, back-of-the-throat sound. Even Avram and David had tried to help her, insisting this was also the proper pronunciation of her own name.

Silas had no trouble at all. The sound flowed easily off his tongue, smooth as butter, and he used it all the time now when he called Hannah's name. She had come to the fond conclusion that the old man was showing off.

Nachtmuzik, she considered. She became Nox. I need a nickname for you, little one.

Hannah could vividly picture the couple in the rough covered wagon as they emerged from the pine woods, guided by music and their beautiful black mare. That bittersweet evening was almost exactly one year ago, Hannah suddenly realized, and a rush of emotion briefly blurred her vision with tears.

Life can change in the blink of an eye.

Yochana. God's mercy. God's grace.

"Your name is perfect, little one, but I need a nickname for you," she whispered. "I think I will call you…Jane."

She felt buoyant with a peaceful joy as she turned to bring the hungry infant inside to her waking mother. The baby's petite face and active, dark eyes shone in the sunrise, and Hannah found herself laughing. "Jane. I like that. A name for mercy and grace, sweet child. Amazing grace. You are living proof of that. Let's sing a song while we go see your mama."

Through many dangers, toils and snares
We have already come.
T'was grace that brought us safe thus far
And grace will lead us home,
And grace will lead us home.