"He has come home," Elizabeth whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Uriah gave instructions to the faces in the win­dows and doors while his horse nervously dancing from side to side. "Make haste, see that his bed is tended and bricks laid in it for his warmth, and prepare him a meal. Hazel, begin the water for his bath. Caleb, he will need strong arms to carry him up the stairs. Matthew, get your bag, John is unwell." Uriah jumped down from his horse, raced up the steps, took Mary in his arms, kissed her hard and then rushed back to his horse. "He is alive, Mary. Our son is alive!"

"I did not truly believe he was," Mary admitted, watching Uriah ride back up the lane.

Elizabeth's mouth dropped, "Were you not the one constantly convincing the rest of us that he was? Oh sister."

When Mary glared at her, Elizabeth couldn't stop laughing.

Uriah pulled his horse alongside the small wagon driven by Levi Moore. He carefully climbed into the back, knelt down and touched John's face.

"Am I home ?" John asked, pulling his hand out from under the blanket.

"Aye son, you are home." Uriah took note of John's red face and sunken eyes.

John grabbed his father's sleeve and pulled until he leaned closer. "Is it Mahala?"