Joe rode up to the wagon and halted his mules. He looked down at Tad. "Everything was all right, huh?"
"Yeah. Nothin' came."
Joe laughed. "You never have luck, do you?"
He looked at Emma, and saw in her eyes everything that she had not put into words. Traces of terror and loneliness lingered there, and he knew that she had prayed for him. But happiness because he had finally come back was driving the rest away as surely as the rising sun dispels morning mist.
"Have you had breakfast?" Emma inquired.
"Yup. Had a snack down the trail a ways."
"But you're in here almost before daylight. I'll fix something for you."
Emma built up her fire and put water over to boil for coffee. She made her spider—a skillet with legs—ready and laid three eggs beside it. Joe looked concernedly at them.
"Better save those for the kids, hadn't you?"
"The children aren't lacking anything and I have eight more eggs. Every hen but one has laid every day."