let her own curiosity get the better of her? Not even an hour ago she’d been on the other side of the rumor mill. She’d been part of the crowd. How quickly circumstances had changed.
She peered out the window and immediately jerked back. Sure enough, a half dozen people were milling about. Gracie reached for one of her earbobs, and Heather ducked out of reach. She’d done plenty of things over the years without the benefit of training. Young children were no different. Just as with her students, they didn’t come with instructions. The trick was never showing fear.
If she didn’t take responsibility for the child, who would?
“I’ll watch her,” Heather conceded.
“Thank the Lord for your kindness.” The reverend clasped his hands as though in prayer. “The poor child deserves care. I’ll do my best to stem the talk,” he added. “But I can’t make any promises.”
Heather’s heartbeat slowed to a normal pace. There had to be a logical reason for the turn of events. By this time next week, her life would be back to normal.
Except there were moments in life that changed a person. There were moments that changed the course of events, whether a person was ready for the upheaval or not. She had the uneasy sensation this was one of those moments.
Sterling fastened his coat. “If there’s something to find, I’ll find it.”
Heather breathed a sigh of relief. By this time next week, this whole incident would be nothing more than a funny story the folks of Valentine whispered about over coffee in the morning. She merely had to care for the child for a few days. Her cousins had only been a year or two older, and she’d cared for them quite often. How much difference did a year or two make in the life of child?
If only there was someone she could lean on for help and advice. During her time in Valentine, she hadn’t made a single close friend beyond Helen, and Helen was too far away to help.
As the schoolteacher, she was in an odd position. She’d been young enough when she arrived that she was only a few years older than her students, but much younger than their parents. Now, women her age were busy with husbands and younger children. She had acquaintances, but no one in whom to confide.
Sterling sidled nearer. “Don’t worry, I’ll find the truth.”
“I know you will.”
A disturbing sense of intimacy left her light-headed. In the blink of an eye her painstakingly cultivated air of practicality fled. Then he turned his smile on the babe, and the moment was broken.
She set her lips in a grim line. His deference was practiced and meant nothing. She must always be on guard around Sterling Blackwell. She must always remember that she was no more special to him than the woman who typed out his telegrams.
He treated everyone with the same indolent consideration, and yet she’d always been susceptible to his charm.
She smoothed her hand over Grace’s wild curls. They were both alone, but now they had each other.
At least for the time being.
* * *
A week after Grace’s unexpected arrival, Sterling adjusted his collar and straightened his string tie in the mirror on the way out the door Sunday morning. He snatched his hat from the peg and loped down the front stairs.
He’d sent a terse telegram to Dillon instructing him to return home immediately. His brother hadn’t been able to attend the funeral, and they’d planned a memorial ceremony upon his return. That was two months ago. From what Dillon wrote in his letters, you’d think the entire West would descend into lawless mayhem without his oversight. No man was irreplaceable. It was time for Dillon to come home and assume responsibility for his half of the ranch.
Sterling had been given a second chance to set things right. He didn’t have all the answers, but he knew where to start.
Otto had the wagon hitched, and the ranch hands were already seated in the back. Five men in all, including the foreman, and they each called a greeting. Only Otto had been around during his father’s time. The bunkhouse had been deserted when Sterling returned two months ago. The ranch had fallen into disrepair during his absence. They were only half staffed currently, which meant there was plenty of room in the bunkhouse for him if his brother moved into the house with his new family.
His step hitched. Could he stay and see them every day? He slammed his hat on his head and strode forward. The right thing and the easy thing were rarely the same.
Otto wore a frown on his normally placid face. “You got in late last night. What happened in Butte?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Sterling climbed into the driver’s seat and gathered the reins. “No one knows anything. The employee who gave the child to the porter is missing. To tell the truth, I don’t think he even worked for Wells Fargo.”
“The whole event was a hoax?”
“Appears to be.”
“Sure got everyone’s attention.”
“I’m guessing that was the point. Someone wanted to make sure Heather and I were publicly named.”
Otto scrambled in beside him. “What are you doing to do?”
“I’m going to do what I should have done from the beginning.”
The late start nipped at Sterling’s heels. At this rate, he’d have to speak with Heather after the services. A curious anticipation curled along his spine. He didn’t know why their names had been thrown together on that piece of paper, and it didn’t matter anymore. He’d had a lot of time for thinking on the way to Butte and back, and some things had become obvious.
The ranch hands talked and laughed in their usual places in the back of the wagon. Rumors abounded in the bunkhouse, but Sterling wasn’t ready to address the speculation just yet. In the absence of an explanation, hushed conversations grew silent when he passed.
The reverend’s words had rung in his ears the entire time he was searching for Grace’s true parents. Someone had treated the child with a reckless disregard for her safety. Anyone who did something that callous wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Since no one was looking for the child, he’d ruled out any other explanation.
As the spire of the church appeared above the horizon, his stomach churned. The ride into town had seemed to take forever.
The boys clambered out of the wagon and filed by in silence. The reverend was at his usual post—shaking hands in the doorway as people filed into the church. A number of wagons were already hitched beneath the trees. Overhead, slender branches held a few sparse, clinging leaves.
One of the Forester children rang the church bell, his feet coming off the ground in his enthusiasm.
Reverend Morris clasped Sterling on the shoulder and pulled him aside. “What did you discover?”
“Nothing.” Sterling glanced around to ensure they had privacy. “No one knows anything about a missing child. The porter is gone. There’s no matching record for a Return
