Perhaps the strangest feeling was rising with the light of a new day to a world that was completely unaware of how one's view had shifted. And yet, it wasn't by much—it was as if everything had tilted by the most miniscule degree, and yet it meant a world of change to Ruby.

Except, it didn't. Archie was still the same man—but, somehow, more.

Ruby had no time to dwell on her puzzling thoughts, however, as baby Peter quickly demanded her attention. Soon, she was preoccupied with countless other tasks, seeing to breakfast while keeping an eye on the infant in his cradle in the corner.

She smiled her greeting to Archie when he came in from doing the chores outside, and she called for August to be up and dressed. Archie stamped the snow from his boots and quickly took off his coat and scarf and hat before washing up at the basin. The sizzle of the bacon in the frying pan was followed by the mouthwatering aroma, and the happy bustle of the cabin filled Ruby with cheer. Peter began to cry in his cradle, and before Ruby could do so much as take the frying pan off the stovetop, Archie was at the baby's side, lifting him up gently and cooing to him, rocking him in his arms as if he was his own pa.

Ruby allowed herself the luxury of a moment to watch the scene before she called everyone to the table, another day already begun.

One of the final members of the family—and Archie certainly would not have used those words, though Ruby knew the sentiment was there—to meet the new baby was Pongo. Archie was stern about his rule with keeping Pongo outside during the day, but it was easy to convince him to let the dog join them in the evenings after supper. To Ruby, the dog had been one of her first comforts when she lost Peter, and so she thought nothing of introducing her son to the wolf of a pet.

"Careful," Archie couldn't help but say as he sat at the table, but Ruby chuckled.

"He's fine, really," she insisted, lowering Peter in her arms as the dog edged closer to inspect the suspicious bundle.

Pongo began to sniff, his snout twitching as he glanced between Ruby and the bundle in her arms. His tail started to wag as Ruby smiled, and Peter cooed in his blanket as he stretched.

"Gentle—that's right," Ruby said softly, a giggle rising up as Pongo let out a dainty lick to the blanket. "Good boy," she praised, petting the dog's head with one hand as she held Peter close with her other arm.

Archie shook his head while August sat on the rug with the dog, his arm almost hidden in the long, dark fur. "Next thing you know, you'll be taking the baby out to the barn to meet Flora, and then to the chicken coop."

Ruby laughed. "Who's to say I won't?" she teased back, though they both knew it was far too cold to take the baby outside just yet. She sat back in her rocking chair, grateful for the warm hearth and the solid cabin that kept the chill away—along with the music of Archie's fiddle and August's stories.

Peter began to stir in her arms, his whimper quickly becoming a cry. "Sh-h-h-h, there, there," she cooed, holding him up over her shoulder and patting his back. He was already changed and fed, so she knew he wasn't hungry or wet.

"Do you know what would make him feel better, I dare say?" Ruby asked, looking over at Archie at the table. "If someone would play a lullaby on his fiddle." Her gaze was direct and her grin was shameless.

Archie chuckled and pushed his chair back. "Don't look at me like that," he said with a playful groan. He stood up and crossed the room to pull out the instrument from its case. "I was done with my books, anyway."

His bow moved over the strings with ease, his fingers swift as they changed positions, and everything in Ruby relaxed as she rocked back and forth in her chair, letting the music rise up and swirl around her and the baby. The melody was sweet, and yet, it held a hint of sadness. She continued to rub Peter's back as he settled in her arms, and she smiled to see August lying against Pongo in front of the fireplace, shifting lower and lower.

Ruby realized she wasn't as eager for spring to come as she would have thought, for it would rob them of the luxury of these lazy evenings.

She was not sorry for the milder weather, however, when it meant that the Nolans were able to visit before the end of the month. There was still a blanket of snow all around, though not so thick as it had been, so the men and the children were firmly instructed to keep themselves occupied outside while the women visited inside. Even little Leo, now one year old, was sent out with his Pa for a bit of fresh air in his woolen layers.

After the chaos of shuffling two families outdoors, Ruby was alone with Mary Margaret, and she quickly brought the baby from his crib to meet her dear friend.

"Oh, he's precious!" Mary Margaret gushed as she took the baby from Ruby with the ease and care of a mother. "Oh, Ruby, he's perfect."

"I think so," Ruby said with a chuckle as she brushed out her skirts and took a seat at the table alongside the other woman.

"And he's three weeks old now?"

"That's right. He's already changed so much!"

"Well, he's a fine size, if on the smaller side, but he'll grow—won't you? Won't you?" She lowered her face to the baby's as she repeated the last words.

Ruby grinned and sat back, enjoying a rare moment of rest. "Not too soon, I hope."

"Oh, far too soon, let me assure you," Mary Margaret replied as she gently rocked the baby side to side. "Leo's already one and I still can't believe it."

"He looks so big!"

Mary Margaret nodded, glancing down to the baby and back to Ruby. "How was the birth? Archie told us a bit, but not much—you know how men are."

"Oh, it was fine," Ruby said with a nod, her hands clasped around her stomach as if by instinct. "Archie was amazing. He—well, helped everything go along." Ruby thought that he probably remembered more than she did herself, but she didn't say any more, and Mary Margaret didn't prod further. Ruby didn't trust herself not to say too much.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to help, but it sounds like you did fine without me."

Ruby simply smiled in return.

"Look at all that hair!" Mary Margaret remarked. "And so dark, just like his mama. Or was his pa dark too?"

Ruby leaned forward in her chair. "Oh, his pa had dark hair, too. About the same as mine, really. Dark, dark brown."

She gazed down at her son in her friend's arm, the little hazel eyes almost fixed on Mary Margaret's face, though not quite. He was so like his pa, it made her heart hurt—but it was a blessing, too, to have a little bit of his namesake with her.

"I bet this little one has you thinking on his pa an awful lot," Mary Margaret said softly, and Ruby blinked as she focused on her friend.

"I—I guess you're right," Ruby said, glancing down as she blinked away a tear before returning her gaze to her child. "Peter would have been so happy to have a son." She twisted her hands over each other as emotion swelled in her chest—emotions she hadn't named aloud, but had been swirling inside like a thick fog. "He—he would have been so proud."

"Of course," Mary Margaret said softly. "That must be hard, too, to have that grief come up again."

Ruby licked her lips. "It's just—it can be tiring. I mean, I'm already running on a couple hours of sleep at best, and it can be exhausting to wonder if I should be happy or sad."

Mary Margaret offered her a sympathetic smile. "It's okay to be both. It's okay to miss his pa while celebrating this new life that God has blessed you with. This baby is a testament to the love you and your husband shared, and nothing can take that away from you."

Ruby let out a breath and inhaled deeply. "I hadn't thought of it like that before." She smiled and reached out to stroke the little head, soft as velvet, a tug at her heart like they were connected by a string.

After a pause, Mary Margaret continued. "I'm sure I can guess, but how is Archie with the new baby?"

Ruby grinned. "He's so good. I could have sworn that—" Ruby held her tongue just in time, a flicker of panic seizing her. "I just mean that it must be coming back to him from when August was little. He's a natural father."

"Mmhmm," Mary Margaret murmured as she picked up Peter, who had started to fuss, and held him up to her shoulder so she could pat his back. "He's wonderful with children."

Ruby nodded, her thoughts quickly wandering to the day or two before when she'd fallen asleep with Peter after his feeding, right while she was preparing supper. Sitting back in her rocking chair, enjoying the brief minute of peace, her eyelids felt heavy, her whole body relaxed, and she let her eyes close for a moment.

Suddenly, she awoke with a start and panicked when she realized her arms were empty.

Then she saw him—Archie rocking the baby in his arms and singing to him gently as he paced in front of the fireplace. He easily filled the space with his large frame, and yet, he was so gentle with the baby that it melted her heart. His voice was clear and soft, almost a whisper, and the tune was sweet. She didn't understand the words he sung, but they washed over her like warm bathwater, and it seemed to calm Peter.

She watched them both, completely unnoticed by the man who was doting on her son. She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat at the sight.

Remembering herself, she met Mary Margaret's gaze and frowned at her friend who looked like she had something to ask but couldn't quite bring herself to speak the words.

Finally, she asked, "And how is August?"

An easy answer. "I think he likes being a big brother," Ruby said with a chuckle, no longer on her guard. "Sometimes, he wants to spend all his time with the baby and show him everything he knows. Other times, he doesn't seem to care one whit—and then there are the times where he'll conveniently remember his chores outside, but I can't really blame him for needing some space from a crying infant."

Mary Margaret laughed. "At least the weather is starting to warm up!" she added. "That's good that he can have his own space. Emma was happy to have Leo around, but the poor thing had no choice but to be patient when the baby had his fits."

Ruby smiled. "I imagine a little girl is much different than a boy who's almost ten."

"I imagine so," Mary Margaret agreed. "And let me tell you, nothing was more adorable than the sight of David falling in love with his daughter—and to see her grow up and have her daddy wrapped around her little finger!" As soon as the words left her mouth, her face fell. "Though I guess your situation is different, if…" she trailed off before daring another question. "Are you still—if you don't mind me asking—are you still planning to head back East with the next wagon train?" She stopped patting the baby's back and kept her eyes fixed on Ruby.

Ruby's stomach fell. "Oh, that's still a ways off yet." She shrugged off the question and gave Mary Margaret a weak smile. "The fields are still covered in snow," she said as she stood up and took Peter from her friend.

"You're right, of course," Mary Margaret said cheerfully, and that was all they said of that, much to Ruby's relief.

One night shortly after the Nolans' visit, right before bed, Peter was fussing and refused to settle down. Ruby felt tears prick her eyes, her nerves rubbed raw and her whole body felt ready to collapse.

"Here, let me try," Archie insisted, taking Peter from her arms.

"If you're sure," Ruby agreed, too tired to argue. She sank into the rocking chair while Archie paced in front of the fireplace, bouncing the baby in an attempt to soothe him.

Ruby watched from her chair, a small prick of guilt dulled by the weariness in her muscles.

The next thing she knew, she awoke, and she bolted upright.

"Oh, Archie, I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to just leave you with him."

"Sh-h-h-h-h, Ruby, it's okay. He's fine." Archie's smile spread from ear to ear, and even in the dim light of the hearth, she could see how his laugh lines crinkled around his eyes. "He's asleep."

Warmth washed over her, and Ruby relaxed. "Thank goodness," she sighed, and then gave Archie a knowing smile as she sat back in the chair. "Thank you."

Archie continued to sway in front of the fireplace as he sang to Peter, now still, in his arms. It was the same sweet song that Ruby had heard him sing earlier, and she tilted her head, as if trying to make him out. She realized she hadn't heard Archie sing before—not before Peter's arrival, at least. Prior to that, she had just heard him play his violin. He had a lovely voice, and he filled the words with emotion as he sang. It made something stir in her chest.

"That's lovely," she said softly as he met her gaze with another smile. "What does it mean?"

He stood in front of her, holding the baby. "The song? Oh, Ho Ro Mo Nighean Donn Bhoidheach. It's gaelic—it means, 'My little nut-brown maiden.'" He chuckled before adding, "I know it doesn't quite fit, but it's a song I learned as a boy with the travellers."

Ruby grinned. "I should have known you had some Irish in you, Archie Hopper, with hair like that." Her expression softened. "Would you sing some more?"

Archie nodded and sat down beside her, and as he faced the hearth, she thought she could see a hint of colour on his cheeks. He swallowed before he continued, his gaze fixed on Peter.

Ruby folded her hands over her stomach as she watched Archie sing with her son in his arms, the soft glow of the firelight dancing over them, the music wrapping around them all as if nothing could touch them in this little world.