It was a long night.

Once Elizabeth had calmed, Nathan told her the rest of the story. He let her express the rage and shock of what Hargreaves was planning to do, and then, as he had with Jimmy, reassured her that he wouldn't let it stand.

Nathan gave her the choice of which journal she wanted to transcribe, and as expected, she chose Jack's actual words over the fiction concocted by Hargreaves. One brought pain and the other anger – she chose the pain, and to be a witness to Jack's story as it actually happened.

She would read the other journal once they were safely away with their copies and both books were back in the safe at Fort Clay. For now, she would be present for her son's father in his last days.

They sat across from each other at the small table where they had just cleared away their dinner. A candle illuminated the stack of paper in front of each of them, and the journal each copied as quickly as they could.

Elizabeth found it necessary to disassociate somewhat from what was in front of her. What she wanted was to move to the rocking chair in front of the fire and read Jack's journal carefully and slowly, but time was passing, and Nathan had to get back to the fort before Hargreaves did.

With a sigh and a brave smile to Nathan, she began to copy Jack's words into her own flowing hand.

May 9, 1915

As this is a mission known only by a select few, I am taking special care to document everything. I and the three Mounties I lead have the primary function of preventing violence between settlers and rogue Blackfoot patrols in the Northern Territories. Tempers are high and unfortunately not all parties act in good faith. Our secondary task is to gather information about the movements of these violent Blackfoot members and report back to our superiors.

Our Inuit guides are named Atiqtaalaq and another I can hardly pronounce, much less spell. They have allowed us to call them Al and Gus for ease. They are helpful but wary of white men. I asked why they are doing this, and they reported that they have had their own troubles with the Blackfoot tribes. Gus lost his wife and son in a battle with them and seems particularly angry and antagonistic. Not ideal, but for now, they are all we have.

I have left Sargent back at Fort Clay in the warmth of the valley. Although he's a strong Mountie horse, he's not built for the steep climbs and deep snow that we have been subjected to in order to reach this mountain. It is already bitter cold and we have further North still to travel. Al believes he knows the way down into the valley where the altercations have been the worst. I have been told to trust them, and that I shall do.

On a personal note, I have left home without being able to tell anyone in my family, including my wife, Elizabeth, of my mission. All believe that I am leading a training mission for recent recruits at Fort Clay. I feel a twinge of guilt as I told my wife this would be a safe posting and that I would be home soon. As the snow continues to fall outside my tent, and I hear the howl of the wolves in the distance, I wonder if I should have been more honest, but I couldn't bear the look of fear in her eyes.

I will save my candle and put this aside now. I hope to have better news to write in the ensuing days.

Elizabeth closed her eyes against the tears that she feared were coming. Nathan had often stolen glances at her as she worked, and now he wondered if he should rise and take her in his arms, or allow her some space to grieve.

Without opening her eyes, Elizabeth knew that Nathan was watching her. With them still closed, she said softly, "I'm fine."

The candlelight danced across her wet cheeks, and as ever, Nathan knew she was not fine at all. "Tell me what to do," he said tenderly. "I feel like I want to hold you, but I don't know if that's what you need."

A tiny smile raised the corners of Elizabeth's mouth and she opened her eyes and looked at him, the love there palpable. "You're here with me. That's all I need." She reached across the table and squeezed his hand before setting to the task again.

May 10th, 1915

I fear Colonel Hargreaves has sent us into the most cold and unforgiving land on the Earth. Even Al and Gus seem to have lost their way and it seems today was spent going in circles on this mountaintop. We haven't yet had the opportunity to mediate any disputes and I wonder now if we ever will.

Hargreaves told us this was a noble mission, and although I have had my doubts about his truthfulness in the past, I am now becoming convinced that he is not a good man. Gus told me tonight that when they agreed to act as guides they were being held in the jail at Fort McPherson for drunkenness. They know little of these lands and only agreed to lead us in exchange for their freedom. Gus overheard Hargreaves say that his superiors were questioning his dedication to duty, and that this mission was to be an answer to that. When he first called us in, he was to lead the mission, but at the last minute he told us other duties would need to keep him at the Fort.

Gus and Al are not bad men, but they are not guides. I fear Hargreaves knew that when he sent us here. It seems we are only here to make it appear he is doing something to fight the good fight.

This cold is beyond anything I have ever felt, and we are already hungry and running low on supplies. Gus and Al were to instruct us in finding and hunting caribou, and teaching us the ways of survival, but these conditions make it dangerous to venture even a short distance from the tents, and I begin to fear for our survival.

We were sent on this mission without the proper clothing and sufficient blankets for these temperatures, and our guides are not guides at all. I find myself angry and wondering if this was simply lack of knowledge on our commanding officer's part, or a deliberate action by Hargreaves to appear as if further such expeditions would be inadvisable. Are we simply meant as a sacrifice? As my men ask questions, I have no answers for them.

We had a lengthy discussion this evening and Al and Gus long to be allowed to leave in order to find their families on Inuit land. As they are doing nothing but eating our food and using our wood for fires, I am inclined to grant their wishes and let them go. I fear for their safety as well, but right now my priority must be for my men and what little we have to last out this storm.

We considered following them down to warmer lands, but voted amongst us to wait for the storm to pass. Our confidence is not high that they could even lead us out at this point, and being at least slightly warm inside is better than riding in circles out in the snow.

We have all moved into one tent to conserve candles and firewood, and have brought the other tents inside as covers to add over our thin blankets. It is uncomfortable to say the least.

I will stop now as my fingers are nearly frozen. I lie shivering and hoping that we will see the sky tomorrow.

Now Elizabeth did put her head in her hands and allowed the tears to come. Nathan stood quickly and put his arms around her, wondering if it might not have been easier for her to transcribe the false journal than to read in painful detail how her husband had died.

Nathan stood and walked Elizabeth over to a small settee in front of the fire. Softly he said, "You've done enough. I can finish up and then finish yours. Let me make you a cup of tea."

Elizabeth shook her head silently and then looked up at him. She searched his eyes for a moment and then asked, "Do you think Colleen knew she was dying?"

Taken aback by the question, Nathan drew a deep breath and looked at the fire. Then he nodded slowly and met Elizabeth's eyes. "For a day or so, she was making jokes about how much trouble she was putting us through, but then…" Nathan frowned, remembering. "... just before she became delirious, she talked to my mother about how she wanted me to have Allie, and for us not to mourn her…"

Elizabeth put her fingers gently on Nathan's lips. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that… I just, I… I always thought Jack's death was sudden and that he didn't see it coming. But this…" She looked deeply into Nathan's eyes. "He knew." She took a breath and then stood, going to her bag. Reaching in, she pulled out an envelope. Yellowed and dogeared, she extracted a letter and handed it to Nathan.

"Abigail gave this to me after Jack died. He wrote it in Hope Valley, before we even left on our honeymoon. He knew how dangerous this mission was going to be."

My dearest Elizabeth,

I am writing a letter I hope you never have to read. If you are, then you know that I won't be coming home. They say we all move on to a better place. But I confess I find it hard to believe there's anything better than your sweet smile and warm embrace. Take comfort that I will be watching over you for the rest of your days. I will always be with you in spirit. But I need you to promise me one thing, Elizabeth. You will open your heart to love again. Know that I want nothing more than your happiness.

Yours forever,

Jack

Nathan took a deep breath and held her closer. "I wrote a letter like this to my mother once. Before Allie came to me I was sent out on some dangerous missions. We're encouraged by our commanding officers to write these." He looked at Elizabeth and saw her avert her eyes.

There was an edge to her voice. "It felt like a gift. Like it allowed me to love you without feeling guilty."

Taking her chin in his hand, Nathan turned her head so she was looking at him. "I don't mean to say that this wasn't from Jack's heart. It's a suggestion, not an assignment. I'm just saying that I don't think he wrote it expecting to die." He tilted his head and looked into her eyes. "He didn't marry you thinking he was going to die, Elizabeth. I get the feeling you think he may have."

Elizabeth stood up suddenly and walked across the room. "I do feel that way! It feels so… so selfish. And then to volunteer for this mission knowing there was even the possibility that I was carrying his child? For what? Glory? Duty? Some sort of misplaced need to save the world?"

Crossing the room to her, Nathan took her in his arms just as she began sobbing. He held her, knowing that this depth of emotion, these memories, were what had kept Elizabeth from allowing herself to admit her love for him for so many years. And though Nathan was a better man than to speak ill of the dead, he knew that if he had Elizabeth waiting at home for him, he would never have made those choices. When he said he would quit the Mounties, he had been speaking the truth. Jack never saw his son's face, never took in the sweetness of seeing Elizabeth rock him to sleep – and as Nathan held her, he knew that nothing on God's earth, and most definitely not the Mounties, would keep him away from her and from the boy he now felt as connected to as if he was his own.