Chapter 5

Baltimore, Maryland - December 1873

The snow had ceased falling, leaving the world cloaked in a pristine white blanket. The harbor lay silent, the only movement the gentle lapping of waves against the icy shore. Gabrielle stood on the balcony, the cool night air nipping at her cheeks. She pulled the blanket tighter, her gaze fixed on the moon's shimmering reflection dancing on the water's surface.

"Gabrielle!"

The sharp cry shattered her tranquility. Three more shouts, followed by a flurry of hurried footsteps on the stairs, announced her sister's arrival.

"Vee, I'm in here," Gabrielle called back, a hint of amusement in her voice.

The door burst open, and Violette practically flung herself across the room, the leather-bound journal clutched tightly in her hand. "Brie, you won't believe this!"

Gabrielle chuckled at her sister's infectious enthusiasm. "What is it?" She asked, walking towards Violette and gently closing the balcony doors behind her.

"Here," Violette exclaimed, her voice trembling with excitement, "March second, eighteen forty-two. Listen to what Father wrote." She flipped through the pages, her finger tracing the faded ink until it landed on the specific date.

"'I watch as she grows larger and larger,'" Violette began, reading aloud. "'I am not welcome by her people so I must keep my distance as I always have. I would think with this, with our love so evident, I would be welcome to be with my love.'"

Gabrielle listened intently, a frown creasing her brow. "It's hard to think that your father wrote this?" She admitted. "I just can't imagine him, young and… in love."

"Are you even listening?" Violette countered, her excitement bubbling over. "This isn't the important part! Look, April twentieth, eighteen forty-two. 'I hadn't seen her since she had our child, but I saw her today, with him. I tried to speak to her, but her people have turned her against me. I glimpsed his face, he was perfect.'"

Violette watched, wide-eyed, as the truth sunk in. She reached out, squeezing Gabrielle's hand tightly. The implications of the journal entry hung heavy in the air.

"I have a brother," Violette whispered, the weight of the revelation settling on her shoulders.

"Vee," Gabrielle began cautiously.

But Violette was already lost in a whirlwind of her own making. "I need to find him!" She declared a determined glint in her eyes. The initial shock gave way to a fierce resolve. She jumped off the bed, her excitement was palpable.

"Okay, take a deep breath," Gabrielle said, her voice laced with concern as she grasped her sister's shoulders. "Even if your father did have a child with an Indian woman, finding him would be nearly impossible. We can't just knock on every teepee and ask if someone knows your father."

"But look," she exclaimed, pointing to a specific passage. "Father clearly cared about him. He watched him grow up. All those trips he took – maybe they weren't just business ventures after all."

Gabrielle's brow furrowed. "You think they were about this child?"

"Yes!" Violette's voice trembled with excitement. She pointed to various entries spanning years. "See, these entries? Months, even years apart. But after the woman married someone else, the trips became more frequent. Look at this one: February, 1854. 'He ran away last month. I've been searching for weeks. Finally found him at a mission school in Wyoming. It's all I can do not to take him home and raise him myself, but he's twelve now, and my wife…'" The passage trailed off, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

"Did Mother know?" Gabrielle finally asked.

Violette shook her head. "There's no mention of it."

"This doesn't make sense." Gabrielle frowned, deep in thought.

"What doesn't?"

"Mother died the next year, he would have been free to do as he wished."

Violette studied the final pages, her expression unreadable. "There are a few scattered notes here, but no proper entries."

"Let me see," Gabrielle said, her voice barely a murmur. Her fingers traced the faded ink, searching for answers.

"Here!" Violette exclaimed, pointing to a line at the bottom of the page. "His full name, birthday, and even his last known location!" A flicker of hope ignited in her eyes. "Brie, we can find him, can't we?"

"Violette," she began, her voice tight, "I don't think this is a good idea."

Violette's smile faltered, replaced by a mixture of confusion and hurt. "Why not? He's my brother."

"Sometimes," Gabrielle said heavily, "it's best to leave the past in the past."

Violette bristled. "What if he was your brother?" She challenged, her voice sharp.

Gabrielle flinched, a flicker of pain crossing her features before she forced them back into stoicism. "Look at the facts, Violette," she said, her voice regaining its calm, measured tone. "Your father knew where he was, yet he chose not to bring him into our lives. There has to be a reason for that."

"Maybe he was afraid," Violette countered, her voice dropping to a pleading whisper. "Maybe he tried and failed. Maybe…"

"Maybe he's not someone we want in our lives," Gabrielle finished for her.

"Brie!" Violette gasped, her heart sinking.

"Violette," Gabrielle said gently, "he's a stranger."

"He's as much my brother as you are my sister," she mumbled, regret twisting in her gut. In her haste, she'd lashed out, oblivious to the pain she'd caused her sister. "Brie, I'm sorry I didn't mean that."

The words seemed to shatter something within Gabrielle. Her shoulders slumped, and tears welled up in her eyes. Before Violette could apologize again, Gabrielle turned away, her voice thick with emotion.

"Please leave my room," she whispered.