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ones that were only dreams. “What was your wife’s name?”
    He looked away. “Margaret. Although she hated that name. Everyone called her Daisy. She was adamant about not passing it on to a daughter. But now that she’s not here, perhaps I should. . .in her memory. . .”
    The baby let out a burp.
    “Call her Camilla Marguerite,” Antonia suggested. “She be named after her ma. . .but ain’t quite the one your Daisy disliked.”
    “Camilla Marguerite,” Mr. Muth repeated to himself and then gave Antonia a small smile. “I like that.”
    “I be sorry for your loss.” The words came out sounding stiffer than Antonia intended.
    He looked down. “I just left Daisy’s body on the bed. I was frantic to get to the doctor. To save the baby.”
    “I think she’d understand. She’d want you to take care of her new babe.”
    His gaze looked haunted. Lines of exhaustion radiated from his blue eyes.
    Antonia thought of the grave she’d left behind and put conviction into her voice. “She’d be a wantin’ you to do anything to save her babe. Anything !”
    Erik Muth straightened his back.
    For the first time, Antonia really looked at him. She saw a big man who towered over her, which was unusual given her height, with shoulder-length blond hair bleached white by the sun, pale eyebrows, tired blue eyes, and a wide nose and mouth. He wore a bloodstained blue shirt. Above his close-cut tawny beard, his skin was ruddy, and he had a sprinkling of freckles across his nose, which gave him a friendly, open expression. Not a bad looking man, but very different from Jean-Claude, with his slender build, tanned skin, sharp cheekbones, exotic green eyes, and long, dark hair.
    “I keep thanking you.” His words came out in a slow rumble. “You’re a stranger, and today, you’ve done more for me than anyone I’ve ever met. And I’ve been blessed with a lot of kindness in my life.” He stared out the window, his eyes unseeing of the distant mountains. “I guess you can say I’ve been charmed. Got everything I wanted. My life plan was falling into place, step by step. Until today.” He gave a slow shake of his head. “It’s all been for naught.”
    Antonia glanced down at the baby, who’d fallen asleep. “Not be for naught. You can be takin’ her now.” With one hand, she pulled up the front of her tunic.
    Erik rose and walked toward her. His hands fumbled as he took the babe and held her to him, looking helpless.
    “Support her head,” Antonia cautioned, as she tied up her tunic. “She be wobbly for a while.”
    Camilla stirred and opened her eyes.
    “Hi, precious one,” her father whispered, rocking her. An infatuated look spread over his face. He brought her closer and kissed her forehead.
    Watching father and daughter made some warmth seep into Antonia’s frozen heart.
    “She’s so tiny,” he murmured, not taking his gaze off the baby. “How can she possibly survive?”
    Dr. Cameron entered the room, came over to Erik, and peered down at the baby. “She nursed well?” he asked Antonia.
    “Once Camilla caught on, she did fine.”
    “Camilla, eh. Lovely name for a lovely wee lassie.” He stepped back and gave them both a serious look. “Now. We must speak of keeping her alive.” He clapped a hand on Erik’s shoulder. “What I propose will be hard to wrap your mind around, lad. But hear me out, will ya, then?”
    Erik nodded.
    The doctor lowered his hand to his side. “Camilla needs a wet nurse. There’s no hope for her, else.” He hesitated. “And someone to care for the wee lassie when you are working.”
    Erik ran a hand over his face, as if everything was too much for him to take in.
    Dr. Cameron glanced at Antonia. “Mrs. Cameron tells me that Mrs. Valleau is a widow.”
    Widow. How she hated that word. But now I be one. She dipped her chin in acknowledgment.
    He looked askance at Antonia. “Would you be willing to continue on as Camilla’s nurse?”
    “Oh, no,” Antonia said