Abigail let out a soft sigh, her face visibly tired as she sat in the shade of a wagon. Her gaze was on you, watching dutifully as you bounced young Jack on your knee — much to the year-old boy’s glee.

Her expression became lighter, more relaxed, at the sight. John had been gone for three months so far, and you had been an exceptional aid. The whole gang had been helping, of course, but you more than others.

Abigail was grateful. Very grateful. She longed to repay you, but it was difficult for her to do so; especially in her current situation.