“They don’t have buses or taxis this far out,” Nathan interjected, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “We’ll have to hitchhike.”

“Hitchhiking is not an option,” Catherine told him, reaching over and feeling his forehead.

He pulled away. “I ain’t sick.”

“I’mnot sick,” she corrected, going over to the rusty old woodstove and opening the door to prod the dying embers.“Ain’t is not a word.”

“Is too,” Nathan countered, climbing over his sister and out of bed. “Johnny showed it to me in the dictionary.”

“Johnny Peters is one of your friends I don’t miss. Andain’t is not aproper word.”

Nathan walked up and handed her the last piece of wood in the box. “Then how come they put it in the dictionary?” he asked. “TheF -word’s in there, too. And so ain’tdamn.”

Catherine sighed, closed the stove door, and absently wiped the rust on her hands onto her pants. “People are judged by their language, Nathan. And using words likeain’t anddamn and theF -word gives the impression they’re ignorant.”

“I don’t saydamn, Mommy,” Nora piped in, climbing out of bed, only to suck in her breath when her socked feet touched the cold floor. “I wanna go home,” she whispered, jumping back into bed. “It’s too cold here. And dark. It’s dark all the time.”

“The days are lengthening,” Catherine assured her, finding Nora’s shoes and putting them on her feet. “It’s almost spring. It’ll warm up.”

“Can we come with you this morning?” Nathan asked, slipping into his sneakers and grabbing his jacket from the peg. “Nora cries the whole time you’re gone.”

“Here, I’ll walk you both to the outhouse,” she said, grabbing Nora’s jacket and putting it on her. “And check for raccoons before you go inside. Remember what happened last time.”

“Can we go with you, Mommy?” Nora asked, echoing her brother with pleading eyes.

“We’ll be real good. We promise.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Catherine whispered, squatting down to her level. “I don’t leave you here because I think you’ll be bad but because your daddy is looking for a woman and two children. If I go into town alone, no one will remember me once I’m gone. But they will remember a strange woman with two children, and if your dad comes through here asking questions, they’ll tell him they saw us.”

“We could hide in the bushes close to town,” Nathan said. “Just don’t leave us way up here.”

Catherine straightened, opened the door, and urged them outside. “Okay,” she agreed.

“You can come with me today, but you can’t go in the store.”

“Can we go steal eggs with you?” Nathan asked, walking backward to look up at her as they walked toward the outhouse.

“I did not steal those eggs. I bought them.”

“You were pretty winded when you got back the other day. And the eggs were broken,”

he said as he turned and slowly opened the outhouse door. “And then you lost your backpack.”

Nora stood far out of the way while both Catherine and Nathan peered inside. “It’s clear,” he said, quickly forgetting their conversation. “Me first.”

But Nora beat him to it and slammed the half-rotten door shut behind her. Nathan turned to Catherine. “Are you going to steal a car too, Mom?” he whispered.

“Of course not. Now that your sister’s feeling better, I’m going to find a job.”

“A job?” he squeaked, his eyes rounding. “We’re gonna stay here?”

Catherine looked at her eight-year-old son and shrugged. “It’s the end of the line for us, Nathan,” she said softly, pulling him away from the outhouse so Nora wouldn’t hear them. “There’s nowhere else to run. And we’re almost out of money. I have just enough left to either buy us a cheap car or rent a place to stay. But if I spend the money on a car, then we won’t have any money left to buy gas. And we can’t keep running forever, honey.”

“But then Dad will find us,” he whispered. “You said we gotta be careful about things like credit cards and your social number. That he can use them to find us.”

“It’s a social security number,” she told him, squatting down to eye level and tugging on his coat with a smile. “But maybe I could be a seamstress and work out of our apartment. That way, I won’t have to give any numbers to anyone.”

Catherine nodded at hearing her own thoughts of the last few days. She’d been mulling over the possibility of stopping long enough to earn some money, and voicing it out loud actually made it sound plausible.

“We can really get a place? With our own bathroom and a kitchen?” Nathan asked, his eyes lighting with excitement. “And you can bake us cookies again?”

Catherine reached out and hugged her young son to her chest, pushing his head down on her shoulder so he couldn’t see her misting eyes. For two and a half months, she’d been riddled with guilt and fear. What she was putting her precious children through was unconscionable, but letting Ron Daniels anywhere near them again was even more unthinkable. She had risked her life in the hopes of getting seven or eight years of freedom—enough to get her babies grown and safe—but the state of Arkansas had given her only three.

“I can work, too,” Nathan told her, clinging tightly. “I’m big now.”

“You are big,” she said, squeezing him just as tightly. “You take care of your sister, find us firewood, and help me out a lot.” She patted his back and stood up, took his hand, and walked to the outhouse. “Did you fall in?” she called to Nora.

A tiny giggle came through the door. “I’m done,” the little girl shouted, bursting out the door. “The only reason I don’t mind the cold is no spiders,” she said with a shiver, moving so Nathan could go in next. “We really can go with you today?”

“Yes,” Catherine told her, leading her back to the cabin. “Your cold is much better, so you can make the hike. And I’ll even buy you treats for being such wonderful children.”

Nora skipped on ahead but couldn’t get the heavy cabin door open. Catherine picked up two pieces of wood from the dwindling pile outside and opened the door. She put the wood in the stove and started rummaging through the small assortment of cans for something she could heat up for breakfast.

Not two minutes later, Nathan came bursting through the door, his eyes wild and his face as white as snow. “There’s a dead man in the woods!” he shouted, running up and grabbing her arm. “Come on, Mom. We have to get out of here!”

Nora let out a scream and threw herself at Catherine.

Catherine leaned down and stopped Nathan from tugging on her, taking him by the shoulders to look him in the eye. “Are you sure you saw a man?” she asked softly. “And not a funny-looking log?”

His eyes huge with fright, Nathan nodded. “I almost stepped on him.” He took a deep breath. “I was looking for firewood up on the hill,” he said with another gulp, pointing at the back cabin wall. “He’s… he’s only half dressed. And he’s dead.”

Nora whimpered, burying her face in Catherine’s sweater.

Catherine took a steadying breath of her own. “Nathan,” she said calmly. “How do you know he’s dead?”

“I… I poked him with a stick, and he didn’t move.”

Catherine gently pried her daughter off her. “You sit on the bed and wait for us, sweetie,” she told her. “Nathan, show me where this man is, then come back and sit with your sister.”

She urged him toward the door, only to have Nora grab her sweater again and stop her.

“I’m not staying here!” the girl cried. “Don’t leave me!”

“Okay,” Catherine said softly. “We’ll all go.”

She opened the door and took hold of their hands, letting Nathan lead them around the side of the cabin. They walked up the hill a little over two hundred yards, then Nathan stopped and pointed.

“There,” he whispered. “On the other side of that tree.”

Catherine turned both of her children to face her. “I want you to stay right here,” she told them. “Right by this stump. Nathan, hold your sister’s hand,” she instructed, putting Nora’s hand in his. “And don’t either of you follow me.”