A/N Warnings still apply for this chapter.

...

Hamilton

William Thatcher opened the front door, finding his son-in-law standing outside. Normally clean-cut and well-groomed, he looked a bit of a mess. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair unkempt, and his tie loose and shirt wrinkled. "James," William greeted him warily. "Come inside, please."

He stumbled through the doorway, and William caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath. "Where is she?" he demanded, glancing around the room with glassy eyes.

"Elizabeth? She isn't here."

"Of course, she is," he slurred. "Where else would she go?"

"We haven't seen her since we visited all of you in Toronto last month."

"Hello, James." Grace joined her husband in the foyer. "Did we know you were coming by?"

"He's looking for Elizabeth," William explained.

"She isn't here, James. Why don't you come sit?" She invited him into the sitting room. "So, Elizabeth isn't at home?"

"She left." He sank down onto the sofa. "Couple days ago. Took the little monsters, too."

Grace took her husband's hand, fear creeping into her. Where could their daughter be? Their grandchildren? "When did you last see her?"

"Dunno." He rubbed his temples. "What day is it?"

"Saturday."

"Maybe last week, then. Left while I was sleepin'. Didn't even say goodbye. People are startin' to ask where she is."

"If you'll give us a moment, James." William pulled Grace to the next room, lowering his voice to ensure James couldn't hear their conversation. "Have you ever seen him like this before?"

"I've heard talk that he has his problems, but I've never seen it, and I've certainly never heard Elizabeth mention it. Where do you think she went?"

"I have no clue." He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. "We need to find her, Grace."

"William, I don't know if we should help him find her, though. I have a feeling this isn't the first time he's been in this state. If this is what our daughter has been living with, what our grandchildren have been living with, they're probably better off without him."

"Maybe, but we need to make sure they're safe, wherever they are. We need to find them. We can bring them back here; they can live with us. I can speak with my lawyer to see about dissolving the marriage."

Grace met his eyes. "That's all well and good, but what about the Spencers?"

"I'll call Matthew up and have a little talk with him. Maybe we can get everything sorted out." He put a hand on her arm. "And he has more connections with the Mounties than I do. We can get a search started for Elizabeth and the children."

"Mother, father." The youngest of the Thatcher daughters, Julie, entered the room. "What's James doing here? Did he have business in town?"

"Not a word to anyone about this," William emphasized, waiting until she acknowledged his words with a nod before continuing. "Apparently, Elizabeth took the children and left. James doesn't know where she is, and neither do we."

"Why would she do that?"

"I have a few ideas." Grace glanced through the doorway into the sitting room, where James was now slumped against the cushions, his eyes beginning to drift shut. "He's drunk. He called the children monsters. I don't think he's the man we thought he was when we agreed to let Elizabeth marry him."

"Have you spoken to her recently? Do you have any idea where she would've gone?" William asked, hoping that Elizabeth may have mentioned something, anything, to Julie given their close relationship.

"No, but I would imagine she'd want to get as much distance between her and James as possible. At least, that's what I would do if I was trying to get away."

"You think she went west?"

Julie nodded. "Probably. I don't know where exactly she would go, though. Everyone she knows is here."

"Well, it's a start."

...

Hope Valley

The morning after she arrived in Hope Valley, Elizabeth woke up confused. It took her a few minutes to get her bearings, glancing around the room until the events of the previous few days came flooding back.

She had gotten away from James, and she had made it all the way to Coal Valley—now Hope Valley. She was in the town's infirmary, lying in a narrow bed that was surrounded by a curtain to give her some semblance of privacy. A cot had been placed on the floor beside her, and William and Emma were sound asleep beneath the quilt that covered the small bed. A dull ache started in her ribs and radiated down into her abdomen, reminding her that she lost the child she had been carrying.

Until she admitted to Faith that she had been pregnant, she had told the news to no one. She had been so terrified, not knowing how James would react when he learned there would be yet another child around to bother him.

Now, though, there wasn't any news to share.

She wanted to cry, wanted to scream. None of it was fair. The bit of hope that she had felt the previous day was beginning to wane. She still had so much to face.

Yes, she had gotten out. But for how long? How long did they have before James found them? What would happen when he did? She didn't want to think about it. She had to believe that he wouldn't find her, that the people in this town would help protect them if he did.

She had tried to cover her tracks on her journey west, using false names for herself and the children, refusing the stagecoach from the train station and choosing to walk instead. She interacted with as few people as possible, hoping that when questions started being asked, there wouldn't be adequate answers.

And her family. When they found out she had run, they would start a search for her. She knew William Thatcher would spare no expense when it came to the safety and well-being of his family. He would contact everyone he could to find her.

Did they know yet that she was gone? Did the Spencers? Would they wonder why she left?

She had kept the abuse a secret, as well as James's infidelity and alcohol abuse. As far as her family knew, they were in a content, if not happy, marriage.

But the Spencers knew. They may not have known that James had been violent with her, but they knew he had been unfaithful, knew he had a tendency to overindulge on alcohol. They had covered up many of their son's infractions, even paying off a journalist to run a story claiming Emma was an orphan and not the product of an affair, making it seem as though James was something of a hero for taking in a child not his own.

Like the Thatchers, they had connections and money that they would almost definitely use to track her down. She doubted they cared much about her well-being, but they cared about their reputation. She wondered if they had already started spinning stories about why she hadn't been around lately. She wouldn't be surprised if they did.

"Mama?" William's little voice sounded beside her, breaking her from her thoughts.

No matter what fears she had, no matter how uncertain she felt, she couldn't regret leaving. She would make sure her children were safe if it was the last thing she did.

"Yes, my sweet boy?"

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What are we doing today?"

"I'm not sure, Willie. Nurse Carter said I could leave the infirmary, so we'll need to find a place to stay. And maybe we can go to the café so I can thank Miss Abigail for watching you and your sister yesterday."

"And we can have cookies?" His eyes lit up.

She chuckled softly. "We'll see."

...

Allie looked up from her bowl of oatmeal and fruit. "Uncle Jack?"

"Hm?"

"You're quiet today," she noted. "Is it because of William and Emma and their mom?"

"You're awfully observant, Allie-girl." He gave her a smile. "I'm just trying to figure out how to help them."

"They could go fishing with us," Allie suggested. "That always makes me feel better."

"That's a good idea, but right now, they need a little more help than that. They don't have a place to live, and I don't think they have a lot of money, either."

"I think their daddy is bad, like my daddy," she said matter-of-factly.

"Oh?" He set down his spoon, interested to hear what else Allie had to say. "Why do you think that?"

"I asked where their daddy was, and William said his mom doesn't like to talk about him."

"Did he say anything else?"

She shook her head, taking another bite of her breakfast. "Miss Abigail said we shouldn't talk about that."

"Okay. Now finish up your breakfast. We don't want to be late for church."

...

Rosemary peeked into the infirmary, having waited until Faith finished her checkup before entering the room. "Elizabeth?"

She finished buttoning her blouse before peering around the curtain to see her old friend standing there. "Rosemary."

"I heard you were in town." She closed the door behind herself. "Do you have some time to talk?"

She glanced out the window, seeing William and Emma walking behind the building with the Constable and a young girl who she assumed was his niece. He had dropped by and offered to keep an eye on them while Faith examined her. Assuring herself that they were still okay for a few more minutes, she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. "It depends."

"On?" She took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

"What you want to talk about."

"Well, we could start by talking about why you're here. It seems very unlike you to trek across the country with two children unless you have a good reason." The fading bruises on her face gave Rosemary a good idea about what brought her to Hope Valley, but she knew that for Jack to really help them, she needed more information.

She sighed. "I can't talk about it, Rosemary."

"Is it that Spencer fellow you were supposed to marry? I always felt there was something off about that family."

Tears filled Elizabeth's eyes. "He can't know I'm here."

"I won't say a word to anyone. Not even Jack, if you don't want me to."

"I just…I had to get the children out of there." Again, her eyes were drawn to the window, where William was pointing at something in the distance and laughing.

"You're safe here, Elizabeth." She placed her hand on top of Elizabeth's. "You and your children can stay with me and my husband until you get on your feet."

"I couldn't—"

"Nonsense." Rosemary waved her off. "Lee and I have plenty of room at our house. We would love to have you stay with us."

"I don't know how long I can stay here."

"If you're worried about your husband coming after you, Jack can help with that. He can keep you and the children safe."

"James…he…he knows a lot of people." She wrung her hands together. "His family has a lot of influence. I wouldn't be surprised if someone shows up here in a day or two."

"Well," Rosemary took a breath, "we'll cross that bridge if or when we get to it. But for now," she took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, "why don't you and the children join us for lunch? I'll have Lee bring the car around, and he can drive us all to the house. You and the children can get settled in the guest room while I get lunch ready."

"You're sure you don't mind?"

"Positive." She smiled, squeezing her hand once more. "I know we lost touch a long time ago, but I always considered you a friend. Friends look out for each other, especially here in Hope Valley."

After speaking with Faith once more and promising to stop by if there was any change in how she was feeling, Elizabeth helped her children into Lee Coulter's car.

She was quiet as he drove away from town, toward the home they would be staying in. Emma curled into her, still unsure about everything going on, but William was plastered to the window, chattering about the things they passed.

It didn't take long before the car slowed, coming to a stop in front of a modest home. Elizabeth had to admit she was a bit surprised. Though not quite as well-off as the Thatchers, Rosemary's family had money, and from what she had heard in the short amount of time she had been in town, her husband was one of the leading businessmen in town. She had expected something…more.

Regardless, she was grateful to have a place to stay. A place where, for a few days, at least, she and the children would be safe.

"I'll show you to the guest room," Rosemary offered.

Elizabeth followed her, Emma in her arms and William walking just behind her. They ascended a small staircase, finding themselves on a small landing with two doors along one wall.

"Here it is." Rosemary opened the door to the guest room, allowing Elizabeth and the children to enter ahead of her. "You're all welcome to stay here for as long as you need." She set down Elizabeth's suitcase beside the bed. "I'll let you three get settled in. Lunch should be ready in half an hour or so."

"Thank you, Rosemary."

The door closed behind her, and Elizabeth was left alone with the children.

"What do you think?" she asked them, lowering Emma to the floor and taking a seat on the bed.

"I want to go home, mama," Emma whimpered, tears filling her little eyes.

"I know you do, baby," Elizabeth sympathized. "But we can't go home. Not right now."

"I miss daddy." A few tears spilled over, sliding down her cheek.

"Daddy hurt mama," William said quietly from where he stood, looking out the window. "Daddy's bad."

Elizabeth sucked in a breath. The children had seen James's temper, heard him yelling, but she didn't know that William was aware of the violence. As far as she had known, he and Emma still loved their daddy, the man who brought them sweets and new clothes and just had a tendency to get angry sometimes.

Of course, she hated him, hated what he had done to her. But she didn't need the children to know that.

"Your daddy isn't all bad, Willie," she tried to convince him. "He gave me you and your sister."

"He tried to hurt Emma and me. When Emma spilled the ink. He hurt you. You said it's not nice to hurt people."

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. Suddenly, she didn't care about all of the pain—both physical and emotional—that James had caused her. She was brokenhearted that her sweet little boy, suddenly seeming so much older than his five years as he spoke about his father, had been so affected.

She had tried to protect him, protect them both, but clearly, she hadn't done as well as she thought. Now, she had to make up for it.

"You're right, Willie. It isn't nice, and it was wrong of your daddy to hurt us."

He grew quiet for a moment, contemplating something before turning away from the window. "Am I going to be mean when I get bigger?"

Her eyebrows shot up, taken aback by his question. "Of course not, Willie. Why would you say that?"

"Everybody says I'm like daddy."

"Come here." She patted the spot next to her, and the little boy climbed up on the bed. "William James, my sweet boy." She took his hands, looking straight into his eyes as she spoke. "I want you to listen to me. You may look like your daddy, but you aren't like him at all. You're kind, and intelligent, and protective. You're the best big brother to Emma. There's not a mean bone in your body."

Finally, he smiled, leaning into her side. "I love you, mama."

Emma clambered up into the bed, too, not wanting to miss out. "Love you, mama."

She put her arms around her children, resolving to give them the best life she possibly could. They were her entire world, her reason for being. The hope that had begun to wane that morning started to return as she held her babies close.

"I love you both so very much. We're going to be just fine."