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  Kathryn pulled the wagon to a stop behind the Carlsons’ home and set the brake. ‘‘I think I know what you’re referring to, and I have an answer.’’

  ‘‘I never doubted that you would,’’ Annabelle said, winking. ‘‘Either that or you’d make one up real quick.’’ She easily avoided Kathryn’s playful swat.

  Kathryn’s expression grew thoughtful. ‘‘Even though we’ve been forgiven, we don’t have the ability to forget. We carry around inside us the memory of poor choices we’ve made, and also of wrongs done to us, not of our choosing.’’ She gave Annabelle’s hand a gentle squeeze. ‘‘As you move on with your life and away from Willow Springs, you’re going to meet scores of people who will never know about the life you lived here. And most of them will never need to know. But I’m sure, somewhere along the way, God will prompt you to share your story with someone.’’ She shrugged. ‘‘Either to give them hope or to show them what a difference forgiveness can make in a person’s life. And when that time comes, there may be a cost to your sharing about your past, but there’ll also be a blessing in your taking that risk and being obedient to God’s prompting.’’

  ‘‘Kathryn’s right, Annabelle, you’ll know the time and the place. Just listen for His voice.’’

  Annabelle nodded, certain she’d never find two women who she would love more than these. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Matthew working just inside the barn.

  When he noticed them, he immediately stopped his work. ‘‘Here, let me help you ladies.’’

  He went to Kathryn’s side first, Annabelle noticed. Watching him, she wondered if he still harbored feelings for her as he had at one time. If he did, it didn’t show. He held Kathryn’s hand and steadied her as she climbed down, then hurried to the other side to do the same for Hannah. Meanwhile, Annabelle climbed from the back of the wagon on her own accord.

  Her feet had barely touched the ground when a wave of nausea swept through her. She clutched her midsection and gripped the side of the wagon for support.

  Hannah was quickly at her side. ‘‘Annabelle, are you all right? Matthew, could you help her, please?’’

  Matthew came alongside, but Annabelle waved him away, knowing he was only there at Hannah’s request. ‘‘I’m fine. I don’t need any help.’’ A dull pain, similar to her monthly ache but much worse, spasmed in her lower abdomen. She doubled over, taking short breaths through clenched teeth.

  Kathryn’s arm came around her shoulders. ‘‘We need to get you into the house. Matthew, would you carry her inside, please?’’

  Annabelle felt his arm come around her from behind. She put out a hand. ‘‘No . . . just . . . give me a minute to catch my breath.’’

  Kneeling down, Kathryn gently brushed the hair from her face. ‘‘Have you had pains like this before?’’

  Annabelle shook her head. She shot a quick look at Matthew, reading uncertainty—and doubt—in his eyes. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘‘I’ve had some cramping recently . . . but nothing like this.’’

  Kathryn stood. ‘‘Matthew, would you help Annabelle back into the wagon, please. I’m taking her to Dr. Hadley’s.’’

  CHAPTER | SIXTEEN

  HERE, LET ME HELP YOU.’’

  The doctor offered his hand, and with his assistance, Annabelle sat up.

  ‘‘I’ll give you a few minutes to dress, and then we’ll talk.’’ He closed the door behind him.

  Annabelle got dressed and smoothed the front of her skirt, trying to ease her concern by telling herself that she’d simply been overdoing it lately. She needed more rest. Her hand lingered on her abdomen, and she remembered another time, years ago. . . . She’d told herself many times since then that what had happened had all turned out for the best. After all, what kind of mother would she have made? Yet the same question still haunted her now.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  ‘‘Come in.’’

  Doc Hadley opened the door and motioned for her to join him on the bench beneath the curtained window. ‘‘Why don’t we have a seat over here? Let me say again how nice it is to see you after all this time, Mrs. McCutchens.’’ His smile was gentle. ‘‘I still like the sound of that. And let me assure you right off that everything seems to be fine with your baby. There are no problems that I can tell.’’

  Annabelle let out a sigh, briefly closing her eyes. ‘‘Thank you, Doc Hadley.’’

  ‘‘My guess is that this was your body’s way of telling you to slow down and get some extra rest. And a mother-to-be needs to pay close attention to those signs.’’

  She nodded. What fondness she held for this man. He’d doctored the girls from the brothel for years and had always treated them with tender concern—never harshly or with disdain.

  He reached over and covered her hand. ‘‘You have my condolences on your husband’s passing. Did he suffer long?’’

  Annabelle stared at his hand atop hers on the bench, then told him the details.

  He nodded every few minutes, listening. ‘‘So you’re alone now?’’

  ‘‘Yes. And no. I’ve hired someone to take me to Idaho. We leave in the morning.’’ She leaned forward, laying a hand to his arm. ‘‘Unless you think I shouldn’t be traveling that far.’’

  ‘‘No, no. You’re still early on in your pregnancy, Mrs. McCutchens. No more than two months, I’d say, give or take a couple of weeks based on what you’ve told me. And like I said a moment ago, everything appears to be fine. It’s normal for your body to experience some changes during this time. But if you start cramping again, or certainly if you have any bleeding, you need to seek a doctor’s care right away. Bleeding isn’t wholly uncommon during a pregnancy, but most often it’s your body’s way of alerting you to a problem. So I advise that you get ample rest and listen to what your body is telling you.’’ Gray eyebrows arched, he waited for her affirming nod and then patted her hand and stood.

  He hesitated. ‘‘Might I ask you about a young woman I treated at the brothel once?’’ At her consent, he continued. ‘‘She was very young, had long dark hair, and—’’

  ‘‘That would be Sadie.’’

  ‘‘Yes, I believe that was her name. Whatever happened to that child? I haven’t seen her for quite a while.’’

  ‘‘I’d like to know the same thing. I went by to see her when I got back into town recently and she was gone. They told me she just disappeared.’’ Annabelle felt a rush of protectiveness, and accountability. Her jaw clenched in response. ‘‘The girls woke up one morning and found her room empty. Someone took her, but they don’t know who.’’ She looked down at her hands. ‘‘There was blood on her pillow.’’

  ‘‘Well, that explains it, then.’’ Doc Hadley shook his head. ‘‘I’ve found myself thinking of that child at the oddest times in recent months, for no apparent reason. And every time I’ve given her over to God’s care again, not knowing what to ask for, really—just feeling the nudge to pray.’’

  Annabelle felt a blush of hope at his words. ‘‘I’m determined to find her, even if I have to check every brothel, gaming hall, and saloon along the way.’’

  ‘‘And I think you’ll do it too. Be careful, Annabelle, and God be with you in your search.’’ He cocked his eyebrow again. ‘‘And also with whoever has her once you find them.’’

  Later that night, Annabelle summoned her courage and picked her way across the dark yard, coffee cups in hand. She walked into the barn, armed and ready, somehow knowing that Jonathan would have wanted her to try.

  The faint orange glow from the oil lamp told her where she would find him. She spotted Matthew in the far corner, leaning against a barrel, head down, intent on the paper in his hand. Nearing his side, she waited for him to look up. He didn’t. He would make her be the first to speak. The man was so stubborn sometimes, so sure of himself, she was tempted to—

  Quelling the response that came naturally, she readied a smile and took a step closer. ‘‘Thought I’d drop in and see how you�
�re doing.’’

  He jumped and spun around. She took a quick step back, hot coffee sloshing over the sides of the cups.

  ‘‘What are you doing here?’’ Irritation darkened Matthew’s face as he moved the piece of parchment behind his back.

  ‘‘Good evening to you too, Mr. Taylor.’’ Wincing at the momentary sting, she quickly reminded herself why she’d come. Remembering helped curb her sarcasm. ‘‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me walk up just now.’’

  ‘‘You didn’t scare me. You just . . .’’ He shook his head, then strode to his saddlebag and stuffed the parchment inside.

  The action drew her attention, and she wondered what it was that’d had him so engrossed. She liked to read, and it tickled her curiosity to guess what his favorite type of stories might be.

  Personally she liked the ones with intrigue, those that left you guessing about the villain and where the stolen treasure lay hidden.

  He motioned to stacks of crates and boxes near where they stood. ‘‘I already picked everything up from the mercantile and will go through it tonight, make sure the order’s all accounted for.’’

  ‘‘That’s not what I’m here about, but thank you.’’ Determined to see this through, she held out a cup of coffee.

  He glanced at it, then back at her.

  His tentative expression coaxed a laugh. ‘‘It’s safe, I promise you. I’ve already paid you a third of your salary, Mr. Taylor. It wouldn’t do for me to try and poison you now.’’ She nudged the cup a few inches closer to him. ‘‘I’d wait and do that once we’re closer to Idaho. Makes more sense, don’t you think?’’

  That earned her a slight humph but not the half grin she’d hoped for. He took the coffee but didn’t drink it.

  He stared at her for a second—then understanding registered in his features. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. ‘‘This is what’s left over after buying the supplies. I was going to give it to you tomorrow morning.’’ His tone grew defensive. ‘‘There’s almost seven dollars left. You can count it.’’

  The visit wasn’t going as she’d planned. ‘‘I appreciate that, Mr. Taylor, but you can keep the money. No doubt we’ll need something else along the way.’’

  ‘‘Just want you to know how much is left.’’

  ‘‘I trust you, Mr. Taylor.’’ The words were out before she had fully processed them. And their untruth weighted the silence.

  His stare turned appraising.

  Her wish in bringing him coffee was that they might arrive at some sort of unspoken truce before leaving in the morning. But maybe that was too much to hope for, and too soon.

  He stuffed the money back into his vest pocket, then shifted his weight.

  She sensed he wanted her to leave. Which made her even more determined to stay. At the same time, she thought of their run-in two days earlier on the porch and silently asked for God to put a guard over her mouth. She didn’t know if there was a place in the Bible with that specific thought but knew there ought to be. If only for her.

  She helped herself to a seat on a stool by the wall and sipped her coffee. ‘‘So . . . are you ready to leave Willow Springs?’’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘‘Why do you ask?’’

  Defensive again. ‘‘No particular reason, just trying to make conversation.’’ He gave her that slow half smile. ‘‘Hobnobbing with the hired help, huh?’’

  It was a start. ‘‘Something like that.’’ She glanced at his untouched coffee. ‘‘Would you like me to taste it first? Show you it’s safe?’’ A gleam lit his eyes, and she could well imagine the sharp replies running through his mind about drinking from the same cup as a woman like her.

  He took a sip, the gesture answering for him.

  ‘‘I’m flattered. Seems you trust me too, Mr. Taylor.’’

  ‘‘Not hardly, ma’am. I just figure you need me. For now, anyway.’’ She lifted a brow.

  ‘‘Like you said, you’ve already paid me. I’m thinking I can enjoy coffee at least until we’re—’’ he tilted his head as though in deep thought—‘‘across Wyoming.’’

  ‘‘And then what?’’

  ‘‘Then I might have to start brewing my own.’’

  Sarcasm shaded his smirk, but still there was a genuineness about it. He didn’t trust her, but at least he was honest in his distrust. Watching him, Annabelle tried not to analyze why his smile seemed to lift her spirits so. ‘‘I thought you said you couldn’t cook. Have you been holding out on me?’’

  ‘‘Nope. But given that or death, I might try my hand at it.’’

  He looked at her then, and a frown crossed his face, as though he just remembered who he was talking to. He took another swig of coffee, watching her over the rim, then dumped the remains in the dirt. ‘‘I think I’ve had enough for one night, ma’am.’’

  Annabelle studied him for a beat, then rose. He was dismissing her, and she let him. She’d gotten what she’d come for.

  CHAPTER | SEVENTEEN

  SO YOU STILL HAVE NO LEAD as to where Sadie might be?’’

  Kathryn packed the last of the coffee in the wooden box and tamped the lid shut with a hammer.

  ‘‘None at all,’’ Annabelle said, surveying the last remaining items on the kitchen table. She relayed to Kathryn what she’d told Patrick and Hannah on Thursday night.

  The entire house had awakened early—all but the children. Darkness still cloaked the world beyond the warm glow of the Carlsons’ kitchen. Annabelle had hardly shut her eyes last night for the anticipation of the journey, and she was already feeling the effects from lack of sleep. She took a deep breath and waited for the discomfort in her lower back to pass, careful not to reveal it in her expression.

  Larson walked into the kitchen and looked around. ‘‘What goes next, ladies?’’

  Patrick followed behind him. ‘‘Load us up.’’

  Annabelle pointed to the box Kathryn just finished, then to two others on the table. ‘‘Thanks, fellas. We’re almost done in here.’’

  Both men gave her a silent salute, shouldered their loads, and disappeared out the door.

  Now that it was time to leave Willow Springs, her feelings were in a jumble. She’d visited the cemetery last evening and laid fresh flowers on Jonathan’s grave. Oddly, that hadn’t bothered her as much as she’d thought it would. He was no more in that hole than she was. He had started his new life, somewhere, wherever heaven existed, and she was starting a new life too. One that waited for her far away from here.

  What bothered her most was leaving these friends behind. She looked across the kitchen at Kathryn and Hannah, busy chatting as they packed the last few items. Annabelle wished she could inscribe every detail about them on her memory so that once she was far away and lonely for the familiar, she would be able to recall with clarity the contrast in their hair color—the way Kathryn had her long blond tresses swept up while Hannah’s dark curls spilled down her back—the warm bubble of their laughter, and most of all, what it felt like to be accepted by them.

  Would she make friends where she was going? Movement beyond the kitchen window caught her attention, and a shadowed figure emerged from the barn. Matthew’s confident stride was easily recognizable. Remembering the unspoken truce they’d reached last night, Annabelle wondered if she might make a friend on this journey after all.

  At the touch on her shoulder, she turned.

  Kathryn’s expression held reassurance. ‘‘We’ll get word to you if we hear something about Sadie, okay?’’

  Annabelle nodded, knowing in her heart that they wouldn’t. Whoever had Sadie was long gone. When she turned back to the task at hand, she caught Hannah raising the lid of a box they’d already sealed shut. Annabelle wouldn’t have thought anything about it but for the guilty look on her friend’s face. Hannah slipped something inside, then closed the lid again. Bless that woman’s heart, she couldn’t lie to save her life.

  Annabelle walked over b
eside her. ‘‘What are you doing?’’

  ‘‘What?’’ Hannah straightened and brushed her skirt. ‘‘Nothing. Just . . . finishing up packing.’’

  Annabelle lifted the lid and let out a sigh. ‘‘Oh, Hannah, no. These are two of your best napkins, and you only have four to begin with.’’

  Hannah’s feigned look of surprise melted into a smile. ‘‘Maybe it’ll bring some civility to the long trip. Use them on occasion and think of us.’’

  ‘‘No, I can’t. . . .’’

  ‘‘Don’t try arguing with her, Annabelle.’’ Kathryn’s tone smacked of conspiracy. ‘‘What they say about pastors’ wives is true. Sweet on the outside, tough as nails within.’’

  Knowing the comparison was accurate, Annabelle looked at the embroidered treasures and felt tears rising in her throat. ‘‘Thank you, Hannah,’’ she whispered and ran a finger over the elaborate C encircled with delicate flowers.

  ‘‘You be sure and take Matthew with you when you go into those towns looking for Sadie, all right?’’ Hannah laid a hand on her arm. ‘‘You don’t need to visit those places alone. Especially at night. It won’t be safe.’’

  Annabelle offered something resembling an affirming nod and hoped her friends would take it as such. ‘‘Don’t forget, I’m used to dealing with those places, and those people. It’ll be fine.’’

  Kathryn stopped folding the towel in her hand. ‘‘Annabelle McCutchens, that was not a yes.’’

  ‘‘And we’re waiting for a yes.’’ Hannah stood, feet planted, hands on hips.

  Annabelle had to smile at seeing the less-than-intimidating sight before her. ‘‘I’m not afraid to go by myself. I know how things work. I’ll be careful. I give you my word.’’

  ‘‘I know a little bit about how those things work too, and I’d feel much better knowing Matthew was with you.’’ Kathryn tried to look stern, but Annabelle didn’t buy it. ‘‘You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, Mrs. McCutchens.’’