Stephen Carstairs found his wife standing near the bow of the boat gazing forward, northwestward, along the Red River. Hope filled her expression and the sight tugged at his heart. Please, God, grant us success in our efforts.“I should have known you’d be here,” he said, tucking a flyaway curl back beneath her bonnet. “I could have saved the coin and booked a lesser cabin for all of the time you spend inside.”Rosalee smiled at his teasing. “Oh, stop your complaining, Mr. Carstairs. You should be made to pay extra for this weather we are enjoying. At home there is still snow on the ground.”He linked her arm with his, and they began to walk the deck. Above them, twin smokestacks belched black smoke into the sky. Stephen’s gaze traced the sleek lines of the pipes, resting on the signal lights near the top. Red on the left, green on the right. At night, the green lamp glowed muted and soft like Rosalee’s eyes when she spoke of her daughter, Lilah. “It won’t be long now, Rosie.”“I know.”
