When Jeebee woke again, the day was far advanced, but still the whole room was illuminated. For the cave faced westward, and now the light of late afternoon was striking at a long angle through the skylight he had built above them.
Merry was up and dressed, stirring something in a pot on the stove, her hand moving almost automatically while she crooned softly and tunefully to Paul hidden within the high sides of the crib beside her. A Paul who was evidently awake, for he giggled and made small noises back from time to time—obviously wanting to sing, himself, as his mother was doing.
Jeebee lay there, still feeling the wonder that had been the feeling of oneness, which still enclosed him and Merry—and also Paul, now that he was awake and contributing to it. It was, Jeebee realized suddenly, the beginning of a new appreciation of being alive. They all became closer now, and would continue to be so from now on, than they had ever been before; because they had defended all that was valuable to them, and won in that defense.
Just about then Jeebee may have made some small noise himself in his throat, because Merry looked over toward the bed and saw him lying there with his eyes open.
“No hurry about getting up,” Merry said softly. “We’ll have something to eat in a little while, but not just yet.”
Her face held the same softness that had been in the note of her crooning to Paul, and in the gentleness of her touch—the sometimes fierce gentleness of her touch—when they had been in the bed. Jeebee, who had, indeed, been planning automatically on getting up and dressing, suddenly realized that there was indeed no hurry. She was right. From the angle and color of the light, it was still some little time until twilight. Wolf would not be back for a while, scratching and whining at the door for his regular day-end greetings, if indeed he came at all. It was true there was work to be done. There was always work to be done. But there was nothing immediate calling him right now, and even the bear carcass could wait to be taken care of.
All the pressure he had felt the last few long months of breakneck struggle to get the cave ready for winter was gone from him.
He luxuriated in this sudden rare and wonderful idleness, lying in the bed, feeling his wife and child close to him, enjoying the light and the moment. And there grew within him a kernel of discovery that expanded abruptly all through him, to burst out and encompass the cave, his life, and all their lives, together.
He had faced, through the summer now gone, the fact that it was impossible to continue the search for his brother’s place with Paul so young. But he had taken it for granted, as if it was still a fixed and unchangeable element of their plans, that they would all three take up that search next summer when Paul would be older and stronger.
Now it burst on him as an entirely new thought—an understanding like that of someone who becomes suddenly aware that the world is round when he had always believed that it was flat—that they need not go next summer, either.
They need not go on at all.
Why leave here? They would be giving up all that they had made together, all that was familiar and useful, and which had now proved its ability to survive in the face of an attack by a creature that could have destroyed both them and it.
Small as it was, it was a fortress. Armed, only as they were, he and Merry could defend it. Here, Paul could grow older in safety, instead of running the risks of traveling through unknown territory, where people might shoot all of them first, and come to find out who they were later. It was even not beyond the bounds of possibility that they might actually win to the very borders of his brother’s ranch and be shot down there by men who worked for his brother, but did not give Jeebee time to explain who he was.
Why leave all they had made here, to go hunting an uncertain future? Why take on a journey in which the three of them, and particularly Paul in the helplessness of babyhood, would be at the mercy of strangers whose attitudes and reflexes they had no way of knowing in advance?
Even if they were safely welcomed at his brother’s, once there, they would be bound to whatever the ranch itself was committed to. If Martin was at war with another rancher for some reason, Jeebee and his family could end up trapped in that war whether they liked it or not. Here, Jeebee was his own master, and Merry her own mistress.
Also, here they were safely hidden. No one knew they existed. No one was likely to come searching for them or expecting to find anyone here. If anyone did stumble across them, it was not likely to be more than a single person—and any single person they need not be afraid of, with the two of them together.
Moreover, here he had his forge, and much to learn and do with it and the cave. There were problems to be solved, of course, but none he now felt he could not handle.
He must carefully get to know his nearest neighbors below and find ways to trade forge work for things he might need from them. He must learn to make black gunpowder and firearms that could use it.
There would be much to do, beginning right away.
Then, in the long run, there were many more things to be done or to make in order that this home of theirs would be more livable. He could put to use a great deal more from the ranch, like its backup, water-driven electric generator, which he had originally believed was too heavy to carry up here.
He could bring the generator up piece by piece and dam the stream to make an artificial waterfall. Here, anything was possible. Away from here, everything would be limited.
Here they were free and life was good.
Jeebee smiled, abrim with gladness, gazing up into the sunshine from the windows.
“What are you so happy about all of a sudden?” he heard Merry’s voice asking.