Montana Lawman Rescuer. Linda Ford

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      Emily grew thoughtful. She looked untroubled so he stayed quiet. After a few minutes, she sighed. “It all sounds so...idyllic, peaceful. As if nothing would ever go wrong here.”

      “There’s been a stagecoach robbery and a double murder, so I wouldn’t say it has been trouble-free.”

      His arms were crossed and she rested her hand on his forearm. “I’m keeping you from your task of finding those men. Please don’t feel you need to watch over me.” She lowered her head, making it impossible for him to see her eyes. “Though I confess I find a great deal of comfort and encouragement in your presence.”

      Her words made him feel as if he mattered. It was nice to be valued by someone for a reason other than the star on his chest.

      He clamped his teeth together. Was he forgetting all those lessons of how worthless he was—to his mother, to Agnes, to half a dozen other young women who had wandered in and out of his life? But he sensed her need for reassurance and could not deny it. “Emily, you can count on me to see you through this.”

      She tipped her head back. Her gaze held his. He felt her search deep into his soul. She smiled. “I know, and I thank you.”

      His breath eased out. How could she have such ready trust in him? She didn’t know who he was, apart from the sheriff.

      Be cautious, he warned himself.

      Could he trust her? He knew his answer should be no. But like Annie said, Emily without a memory was likely the real Emily, and he found her sweet and pure.

      He must do all he could to find out who she was.

      “I hate to leave you, but I need to send some letters to inquire where you got on the stage and perhaps learn who Aunt Hilda, Abigail and John are.” It was too late to send messages back along the line today, but he could get letters ready and start asking questions.

      “I’ll be fine. I’ll sit and rest while Mikey plays.” She returned to the bench and appeared to be relaxed.

      “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve taken care of business.” The best thing he could do for Emily at the moment was help her get Mikey to his adoptive parents. This Abigail and John would be waiting for their child. More than that, they would know who Aunt Hilda was and where Emily had come from. Once he knew that, he would be able to find Emily’s family.

      “No need to rush on my account.” She smiled.

      He really needed to leave, but he hesitated to do so. It took a great deal of effort to force his steps to the house. “Gram, I have to go. Keep an eye on that pair, would you?”

      She chuckled. “Do you really need to ask?”

      “Thanks.” He left via the front door.

      Jesse strode down Mineral Street, checking on each store. He completed his circuit then went to Marshall’s Mercantile. His jaw muscles hurt and he realized he’d chomped down on his teeth way too hard and forced himself to relax. Someone had threatened his town. Whoever was responsible for the robbery and murder, for bringing harm to a young woman and little boy, would be found and captured. Jesse Hill would see to it.

      He entered the store and let his eyes adjust to the interior dimness. He circled the inside of the store as George waited on a customer. The displays were familiar to Jesse, so he took little notice of the goods, though he paused to look at the women’s wear and wondered if something in the array would spark Emily’s memory.

      The customer left with his arms full. George turned to Jesse. George Marshall saw almost everyone in the area or passing through because they soon learned his store was well stocked and could supply their needs.

      “Howdy, Jesse. Find those robbers yet?”

      “Not yet, I’m afraid.” He explained Mikey and Emily at the house and Emily’s loss of memory, though George had by now likely heard a dozen different versions of the details concerning the pair Jesse brought in.

      “Could she at least give a description of the men responsible?”

      “Pretty sketchy one. They covered their faces, so she is unable to describe what they look like.”

      “Didn’t find anything at the site to tell you who they are?”

      “One of the horses had an odd-shaped horseshoe that will help identify the robbers. The rain made it impossible to follow their tracks.” He leaned on the counter. “Any strangers around recently? Someone who might have been checking out the stagecoach schedule? Or someone waiting for an arrival?”

      “There was a stranger in town today buying supplies. Said he was joining his partner at Wolf Hollow.”

      “Sounds innocent enough. Did you happen to notice anything odd about his boots?”

      George laughed. “Don’t often have cause to notice a man’s feet. Why?”

      “Emily said the one thing she saw was that one of the robbers had silver-tipped boots.”

      “Well, I’ll sure be keeping my eye open for that and will let you know.”

      “Have you heard of a couple by the name of Abigail and John?”

      “What’s their last name?”

      “’Fraid I don’t know.” Jesse told about the letter.

      George stroked his chin. “There was an Abigail and John Newman who lived north of Wolf Hollow. They came in once or twice. I remember because she would always go to the selection of baby items and look so longingly at them that I wondered if she had lost a baby.”

      “I’ll plan on heading out to Wolf Hollow tomorrow and look around.” It was the perfect place for riffraff to hide. He had two things to look for—a horse with an odd-shaped shoe and a man with silver-tipped boots. And a third—a couple by the name of Newman.

      George chuckled. “How do you plan to find an Aunt Hilda?”

      “Now, that is going to be more difficult, I think. An aunt who sends a boy for adoption.” That fact alone gave him a few clues. “She could work in an orphanage or be a preacher’s wife who helps orphans find homes.”

      “Or a lawyer’s wife. Or she could simply be acting as agent for her niece or nephew and their spouse.”

      “I simply don’t have enough information to go on. All I can do is send letters down the line to the various sheriffs with the few facts I have and hope someone, somewhere can connect the dots.” He said goodbye to George and stepped into the street.

      He went to his office and penned half a dozen letters, all saying the same thing, then took the sealed envelopes to George to send out on the next stagecoach.

      There was nothing more he could do until morning.

      Nothing more to prevent him from returning to the house to see if Emily had remembered anything.

      * * *

      Mrs. Whitley called from the back door. “Supper is ready. Come СКАЧАТЬ