Her eyes filled with tears and she tried to speak. No sound came, but she shook her head, No.
His voice grew humble now. He was deeply puzzled, and he begged her for an answer that he could understand. "Why are you so much against the west? Tell me truly. Tell me."
She found her voice. "I'm not against the west. I'm against leaving our home. I want to stay here. I—I hoped we could live here forever. I—I'm afraid, Joe."
He scowled, torn and uncertain.
"You've never been afraid before, Emma. We've been through a lot together, a lot of struggle and a lot of worry. We worried when baby Emma was sick, and when Tad fell out of the tree. It's always come out all right."
"That was different," she stammered. "We—we were here among our own people. If we needed help, we could get help."
"Emma," he whispered. "Emma—I can take care of you. I can take care of the children."
She clutched him, buried her face in his neck.
"Emma," he said, "when we left your father, you were worried then, but you faced up to it, and life was much better afterward."
"We were younger then," she said. "Oh, Joe—we were much younger, and we had only Barbara. Now we've got six! Think of it, Joe! Six children, out in the wilderness!"