Chapter 32
“Watch me.”
Thomas laughed harder.
Margaret hugged her.
Then Matilda noticed a final handwritten sentence squeezed along the bottom.
She read it.
Her laughter faded into something softer.
If the claim is ever worth anything, use it for people who never got lucky enough to meet a Jedodiah Boon.
Matilda looked toward the tables.
Families.
Children.
Old miners.
Widows.
Workers.
People who had once been ignored because they were poor, weak, inconvenient, or easy to dismiss.
She understood.
The following spring, the Reed Fund opened.
It paid for winter shelter.
Meals.
Medical care.
Legal help for families facing fraudulent land claims.
And one strange rule written personally by Matilda:
No person asking for warmth shall ever be turned into the cold.
Years passed.
Black Ridge became known less for silver than for something unusual on the frontier.
Fair wages.
Safe housing.
Schools.
Widow pensions.
Medical care.
People called Matilda generous.
She disagreed.
“Generosity,” she once told a reporter, “is giving away what belongs to you.”
She looked out across the settlement.
“This was never mine alone.”
The reporter asked about Jedodiah.
Matilda smiled.
“He still traps.”
“Despite your wealth?”
“Especially because of it.”
“Why?”
“Because if I kept him indoors he'd become unbearable.”
From outside came Jedodiah's voice.
“I heard that!”
Matilda shouted back.
“You were supposed to!”
Their home eventually filled those extra bedrooms.
The first child arrived unexpectedly—not by birth, but during a January blizzard.
A little boy named Samuel had lost his parents while traveling west.
He stayed one night.
Then a week.
Then forever.
Two years later came twin sisters whose father had been injured in a mining accident.
Matilda never cared whether the children shared her bl/o/od.
She knew better than most that family was not made by certificates alone.
One winter evening, years after Abigail opened that boarding house door and ordered her into the storm, Matilda stood before the fireplace in Jedodiah's cabin.
Samuel sat on the floor carving a wooden horse.
The twins slept nearby.
Jedodiah entered carrying snow on his shoulders.
“Cold.”
Matilda handed him a bowl.
“Stew.”
He tasted it.
Then became very still.
Matilda narrowed her eyes.
“Don't you dare.”
Jedodiah slowly placed the spoon down.
Samuel looked up.
“What?”
Jedodiah slammed his fist on the table.
“WHO MADE THIS?”
The children screamed with laughter.
Matilda threw a towel at him.
“You enormous fool!”
He caught it.
Then crossed the room.