“Ready?” she asked.
He nodded. “As much as I can be.”
They walked the short distance to the Hendersons’ house and paused at the back door. For a moment, Marybeth wondered if they should go to the front of the house but knew that would probably just be harder.
Edward knocked on the door and waited. After a few minutes, he knocked again. Finally, on the third time, light appeared beyond the mudroom. Eve came to the door.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” She looked at Marybeth. “Is Carrie sick?”
Carrie was already back to sleep, and Marybeth shook her head. “Let us in, Eve. We need to tell you something.”
Eve backed up a step. “Is it ... is it Fred?”
Edward moved to take hold of her. Marybeth followed him into the house and waited for him to lead Eve to a chair.
“What’s happened? Where is he? Is he all right?”
Marybeth put Carrie in the front room on the sofa. She heard Eve continuing to question Edward and then a strangled cry broke from her.
“No! No! No!”
Marybeth hurried back into the kitchen and came to Eve’s side. She knew there was nothing she could say to soften the blow. Eve hugged her body as if to ward off anything bad from touching her.
“It’s not true. It’s not. Fred can’t be gone.”
“I’m so sorry, Eve,” Edward said, pulling up a chair in front of her. “It all happened so fast. There was no time to warn him or for him to take cover.”
“Who ... who did it?”
“Hank Garlow. The vigilantes have him now. He’s probably already been hanged. His brother too. He shot another man.”
She met Edward’s gaze. Her head tilted slightly to the left as she seemed to shrink away. Her eyes rolled back, and Edward caught her just before she started to fall against the table.
“We should probably put her in bed,” Marybeth said. She grabbed the lit lamp and headed toward the door, pausing there to wait for Edward.
Edward lifted Eve and followed Marybeth to the bedroom. She straightened the covers and pulled them back while Edward deposited Eve on the mattress. Eve didn’t wake up, so Marybeth put the lamp on top of the large chest of drawers and went to the pitcher and bowl. There was a towel hanging on the stand, and she took that up and dampened it.
She sank down beside Eve and began to wipe her face with the cloth. It was only a few minutes before Eve opened her eyes. She looked at Marybeth and broke into tears. She pushed Marybeth’s hands and turned away.
There was nothing else to be done. Marybeth knew there were no words that could lessen Eve’s pain. All they could do was be by her side.
By morning, Eve had cried herself out. She slept for no more than an hour, then rose and asked Marybeth to help her dress. Marybeth could see she was determined to be up and so didn’t argue. To her surprise, Eve had a black dress in her wardrobe.
“My mother taught me early on that you never know when you might need to dress for mourning,” Eve said as Marybeth helped her into the skirt portion of the gown. Thankfully, it had an adjustable waistband.
“I needed this when I was carrying Samuel and my grandfather died.” She helped Marybeth position it over her swollen abdomen. The top part of the gown fit rather snugly, but Eve didn’t seem to care. She told Marybeth where to find her black shawl, and once it was wrapped around her, she looked prim and proper.
“Edward went to fetch Melody. She’s going to take care of the children while Edward and I go with you to the undertaker.”
“My poor boys,” Eve said, sinking onto the edge of her mattress. “What in the world am I going to tell them?”
“The truth. Their father died a hero.”
“They won’t understand him being gone. They won’t understand any of this.” She fisted her hands. “I hate this town. I’ve always hated it. I won’t bury Fred here. I’m going back to Indiana. I’m taking him too.”
“You should probably wait until after the baby is born,” Marybeth suggested.
“No! I won’t give one more thing to this devil’s town.” She looked at Marybeth. “I’ve paid dearly enough. I’ll have this baby on the train before I’ll give birth in Cheyenne.”
