Chapter 1: The Gathering Storm
“Emily,” Jack said quietly, “I need you to do exactly what I tell you.”
The rain hammered the canvas roof so violently that for a moment Emily could barely hear him. Another contraction tightened across her belly. She gasped and curled forward, fingers digging into Jack’s sleeve.
“Something’s wrong.”
“I know.”
Those two words frightened her more than anything else he could have said. Until that moment, Jack Dawson had seemed like a man who could stare down anything the wilderness put in his path. He had crossed flooded rivers without hesitation, repaired harnesses in darkness, and faced frightened horses with nothing but a steady voice and strong hands. Now his face had gone pale beneath his sun-darkened skin.
Emily searched his eyes. “What did you feel?”
Jack did not answer immediately. His palm remained against the side of her belly. He waited through another movement, then another. His jaw tightened.
“There are two.”
Emily stared at him as thunder shook the rocks. “What?”
Jack shifted his hand carefully. “Babies.”
For several seconds Emily forgot the storm, the contractions, everything. “No.”
“I’m almost certain.”
“No.” She shook her head harder. “The doctor in Fort Kearny said one child.”
“When was that?”
“Months ago.”
Jack looked down at her belly again, and Emily’s heart began pounding. Twins. Daniel had wanted children more than almost anything. He had joked that one baby would never be enough because, in his words, “No Carter child should grow up without somebody to blame for stealing biscuits.” The memory struck her with such force that tears filled her eyes.
Jack misunderstood. “I could be mistaken.”
“You’re not.”
“How do you know?”
She pressed both hands against herself, trembling. “Because Daniel was a twin.”
Jack’s expression sharpened. “What happened to the other one?”
Emily blinked. “I don’t know. Daniel never knew him.”
Jack went perfectly still. Something passed across her face—not fear this time, but recognition. Then another contraction seized Emily before she could question him, and she cried out.
Jack moved instantly. “Breathe slowly.”
“I’m trying!”
“Look at me. Not at the storm. Not at the road. Me.”
His voice steadied her. Emily drew a breath, then another. Jack counted quietly until the pain loosened. When it passed, he reached for the canteen and helped her drink.
“We have to move.”
Emily stared toward the black sheets of rain beyond the overhang. “In that?”
“There’s a trading post east of here.”
“East? We’ve been traveling west.”
“It’s less than eight miles. There may be shelter there.”
“May be?”
Jack did not lie. “It was operating last winter.”
Emily nearly laughed from fear. “That’s your plan?”
“It’s the best one we have.”
Lightning ripped across the sky. One horse screamed and pulled against its traces. Jack climbed out, and Emily grabbed his wrist. “Wait.”
He turned. “What happened to Daniel’s twin?”
Jack’s face became unreadable. “I’ll tell you when you’re safe.”
“No. Tell me now.”
“Emily—”
“You looked like you knew something.”
Another boom of thunder swallowed the rest. Jack gently freed his wrist. “When you’re safe,” he repeated. Then he jumped into the storm.
Chapter 2: The Secret Beneath the Storm
Jack secured the harness, shouting to the horses over the wind, while a terrible thought slipped into Emily’s mind. She barely knew this man. Four days ago, he had been nothing but a stranger appearing through the dust. Now he knew something about her late husband—something Daniel himself had apparently never known.
Emily placed one hand against her belly. Two babies. Daniel had left behind two children without ever knowing they existed. Yet beneath the unbearable grief came a strange, stubborn flicker of hope.
Jack climbed back to the driver’s bench. “Hold onto the side rails.”
The wagon lurched forward. Rain poured through gaps in the canvas, and the horses strained through mud. For nearly an hour they fought the storm until the terrain began descending, revealing the faint outline of a long, low building tucked between cottonwoods. Jack shouted with relief. “There!”
The structure looked abandoned, with one shutter hanging crooked and half the roof sagging, but smoke curled faintly from a stone chimney. Jack pulled the wagon to a stop, and the door opened before he reached it. An elderly woman stepped onto the porch holding a lantern, gray hair braided down her back and a heavy wool shawl wrapped around her despite the summer heat.
Her eyes narrowed. “Jack Dawson?”
Jack froze. The woman knew him. “Mrs. Whitaker.”
The old woman lifted the lantern. “You have some nerve coming back here.”
“There isn’t time.”
“There’s always time for explanations.”
“Not tonight.” He pointed toward the wagon. “She’s seven months along. Maybe less than two. Contractions are close.”
Mrs. Whitaker’s anger vanished. She hurried forward. “Bring her inside.”
Jack carried Emily from the wagon despite her protest. The instant his arms went beneath her knees, Emily felt how hard his heart was beating. He was afraid—not merely concerned, but genuinely afraid.
The trading post’s interior smelled of cedar, dried herbs, and lamp oil. Mrs. Whitaker directed Jack toward a narrow back room containing a bed, washstand, and small iron stove.
“Name?” she asked.
“Emily Carter.”
The old woman stopped, slowly turning. “Carter?”
Jack closed his eyes, and Emily noticed. Mrs. Whitaker looked from him to Emily, then back again. “Oh, Jack.”
Emily’s exhaustion disappeared beneath a surge of alarm. “What does that mean?”
Mrs. Whitaker opened her mouth, but Jack spoke first. “Please.”
The older woman studied him, then nodded reluctantly. “Later.”
“No,” Emily said. Neither listened.
Mrs. Whitaker examined her while Jack heated water. The minutes became an endless succession of instructions, breathing, pain, waiting, and fear, until finally Mrs. Whitaker straightened. “The babies are not coming tonight.”
Emily nearly collapsed with relief. “But?”
There was always a but. Mrs. Whitaker’s mouth tightened. “One child is positioned poorly. That’s likely what Jack felt. The storm, exhaustion, dehydration, and days of hard travel probably brought on the contractions.”
“Can you stop them?”
“I can help settle your body. Rest will do more than anything I possess.”
Emily looked at Jack. “Then why was he so frightened?”
Mrs. Whitaker did not answer. Jack stared into the basin.
“Jack.” He turned. “You promised.”
His face looked older suddenly. “Not like this.”
“Like what?”
“While you’re exhausted.”
“You knew Daniel.”
Silence. Mrs. Whitaker quietly left the room, which answered enough. Emily pushed herself upright.
Jack stepped toward her. “Stay down.”
“Did you know my husband?”
“Yes.” The word struck like lightning.
“How?”
Jack dragged a chair beside the bed and sat, clasping his hands. “For most of my life.”
Emily stared. “You’re lying.”
“No.”
“Daniel never mentioned you.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
Jack lifted his eyes. And Emily saw something she had not noticed before—something she had been too grief-stricken and frightened to recognize. Daniel’s eyes had been brown, and Jack’s were blue, but the shape, the deep-set corners, the line of his brow, and even the way one side of his mouth tightened when he was hiding emotion…
Emily’s breath disappeared. “No.”
Jack’s hands clenched.
“No,” Emily whispered.
He said nothing.
“You’re his brother.”
Jack looked toward the storm-dark window. “His twin.”
Emily felt the room tilt. Daniel’s twin. Alive, sitting beside her. The man who had found her broken wagon in the middle of nowhere, given her water, carried her toward safety, and whose hand had just discovered Daniel’s unborn twins.
“You’re Daniel’s twin brother.”
“Yes.”
Emily slapped him. The sound cracked through the room, but Jack accepted it without moving.
“How dare you?” Tears spilled down her face. “How dare you sit beside me for four days and say nothing?”
“I was trying to find a way.”
“You had four days!”
“I know.”
“You watched me talk about him!”
“I know.”
“You heard me cry for him!”
“I know.”
“And you said nothing!”
Jack’s voice broke. “What was I supposed to say?”
“The truth!”
“I didn’t know how!”
Emily stared at him. For the first time, the mountain man’s control shattered. “I didn’t even know Daniel had a wife until three months ago.”
Emily went silent. Jack stood abruptly, crossed the room, then turned back. “I grew up believing my brother had died before I was old enough to remember him.”
Emily’s anger faltered.
Jack continued. “Our mother, Margaret Dawson, gave birth to twin boys during a winter storm near Laramie. My father was injured. They had almost no money. A doctor convinced them one baby had not survived.”
Emily whispered, “Daniel.”
“They buried an empty box.”
Her skin prickled. “What?”
“My parents never knew.” Jack’s voice turned low. “The doctor sold Daniel.”
Emily covered her mouth as Jack looked sick speaking the words. “A couple named Carter had lost a newborn days earlier. They were wealthy compared to my parents. The doctor arranged everything.”
“That can’t be true.”
“I wish it weren’t.”
“How did you find out?”
“Last year.”
Jack removed something from beneath his shirt—a leather cord on which hung half of a small silver medallion. Emily recognized it instantly. Her fingers flew to her throat. Beneath her dress, hidden against her skin, hung Daniel’s matching piece. She pulled it free.
The edges fit perfectly.
Jack stared. Emily could barely breathe. “Daniel wore this every day.”
“My mother gave me mine before she died. She said there had been two halves.”
Emily turned Daniel’s piece over. Two initials were scratched into the metal: J.D. She had always thought they meant something from Daniel’s childhood—Jack Dawson, Daniel Dawson. The pieces clicked together in her trembling hands, and she began crying.
Jack remained across the room, giving her space. “He knew?” she asked.
Jack shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You said you learned last year.”
“I did.”
“Then why didn’t you find him?”
“I tried.”
Emily looked up sharply. Jack opened his satchel and removed a bundle of letters tied with cord from beneath a folded shirt. “I sent seven.”
Emily’s stomach dropped. “All came back.”
He handed them to her: RETURN TO SENDER. ADDRESS UNKNOWN. FORWARDING EXPIRED.
Emily examined the dates. The first had been sent nearly ten months ago, another eight months ago, another six, and the last only five weeks before Daniel died. Her hands trembled.
Jack’s voice became barely audible. “When the letters failed, I started looking myself.”
“You were searching for him?”
“For months.”
“And you found me instead.”
“I found his grave.”
Emily’s face crumpled, and Jack looked away. “I reached the North Platte three weeks after you buried him.”
The room became unbearably still. “I stood beside that mound until sunset.”
Emily imagined him there—a man who had searched nearly his entire adult life without knowing exactly what he was searching for, a brother arriving too late. She understood suddenly why Jack spoke so little, and why sadness seemed carved into him.
“Someone at Fort Caspar told me Daniel’s widow was traveling west alone,” Jack continued. “Seven months pregnant.”
Emily wiped tears from her cheeks. “You were looking for me.”
“Yes.”
“So finding my wagon wasn’t chance.”
“No.”
Anger returned. “You followed me?”
“Two days.”
“You let me believe you were a stranger!”
“I was a stranger.”
“You were my husband’s brother!”
“A brother he never knew existed.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“I know.”
Emily looked at the letters again, her anger battling compassion, just as Mrs. Whitaker entered carrying tea. The older woman looked between them. “Well, I assume the secret is no longer secret.”
Emily gave a humorless laugh. “Apparently everyone knew except me.”
Mrs. Whitaker set down the tray. “Not everyone.”
“You did.”
“I knew Jack had found evidence of his brother.”
“You also recognized Carter.”
“Because Jack stayed here during his search.”
Jack said nothing. Emily leaned back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted. Mrs. Whitaker checked her pulse. “You need sleep.”
“I need answers.”
“You need both.”
The older woman handed her tea, and Emily drank reluctantly as warmth spread through her.
Jack started toward the door. “Where are you going?”
“To check the horses.”
“In this storm?”
“They need tending.”
“Jack.” He stopped.
Emily surprised herself. “Come back.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly. “I will.”
He disappeared, and Mrs. Whitaker watched him go. “You should know something.”
Emily looked at her. “What?”
“That man has spent half his life convinced he was born missing something.” Emily’s eyes lowered. Mrs. Whitaker continued, “Some people carry loneliness like an empty pocket. Jack carries his like a second skeleton.”
“He lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“He should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“But you’re defending him.”
“No.” The woman smiled faintly. “I’m explaining him. Those are different things.”
Emily placed both hands over her belly. “Twins.”
Mrs. Whitaker nodded. “If Jack is right.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I never trust a man’s medical judgment merely because he has delivered calves.”
Despite everything, Emily laughed—even though it hurt. Mrs. Whitaker smiled. “Good. There’s life in you yet.”
Emily’s expression sobered. “Will they be all right?”
Mrs. Whitaker’s face softened. “If you rest, eat, drink, and stop crossing half the Wyoming Territory in broken wagons, their chances improve considerably.”
Emily closed her eyes. For the first time since Daniel died, somebody else was carrying part of the burden. She slept.
Chapter 3: The Map and the Claim
When she woke, sunlight filled the room. The storm had passed. Jack sat asleep in the chair near the door, his boots muddy and his shirt still damp. Emily watched him. Daniel had slept the same way sometimes—chin dropped to his chest, arms folded, one ankle crossed over the other. The resemblance struck harder now.
Jack stirred, his eyes opening instantly. “You all right?”
“Yes.”
He sat forward. “Contractions?”
“None since midnight.”
Relief flooded his face, and Emily touched Daniel’s medallion. “Why didn’t Daniel know?”
Jack rubbed his jaw. “That’s the part I never understood.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Carters knew he wasn’t their biological child.”
“Daniel told me he was adopted.”
“But he believed the adoption was legal.”
Emily frowned. “It wasn’t?”
Jack shook his head. “There were no proper records.”
“What happened to the doctor?”
“Disappeared.”
“Where?”
“California, maybe.” Emily saw Jack hesitate. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He stood. “There is something else.”
Emily almost laughed. “Of course there is.”
Jack went to his satchel again, this time removing a folded map and a yellowed document. “My father spent years searching for proof that the baby had survived. He never found enough.”
“And you did?”
“Not exactly.”
He spread the paper across her blanket. It was a land survey, and Emily stared at the marked section. “What is this?”
“Four thousand acres north of Sweetwater.”
She blinked. “What does that have to do with Daniel?”
“It belonged to my mother’s father.”
“So?”
“When my grandfather died, the property passed equally to his daughter’s surviving children.”
Emily’s mouth went dry. “Jack…”
“My mother had twin sons.”
“So Daniel owned half.”
“Yes.” Emily stared at the document. “Daniel never mentioned land.”
“He didn’t know.”
“How valuable?” Jack looked uncomfortable. “Very.”
“Jack.”
“Coal was found beneath the eastern ridge last winter.”
Emily sat straighter. “How valuable?”
“A rail company offered sixty thousand dollars for mineral rights alone.”
Sixty thousand. Emily almost stopped breathing. That amount could buy ranches, businesses, security for generations. “And half belongs to Daniel?”
“Belonged.” Jack met her gaze. “Now it belongs to his legal heirs.”
Emily’s hands went instinctively toward her belly. “The babies.”
“Yes.”
Her heart pounded. For weeks she had counted coins, rationed flour, measured every swallow of water, wondering whether she could afford a rented room long enough to give birth. And all that time her unborn children had inherited land worth more than she could comprehend.
“Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”
“Because I wasn’t sure you’d believe me.”
“That’s not the reason.” Jack looked away, and she knew him well enough now to see it. “What?”
“There’s a problem.”
Emily closed her eyes. “Tell me.”
“The rail company believes there is only one heir.”
“You.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“They’ve been pressuring me to sell.”
“Then don’t.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why?” Jack drew another paper from the satchel containing a notice bearing a territorial seal. Emily read slowly, then again: LEGAL CLAIM DISPUTE. Samuel Carter.
Her breath caught. “Samuel?”
“You know him?”
“He was Daniel’s uncle.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Daniel told me Samuel vanished years ago.”
“He did.”
“He’s back.”
Emily read further. Samuel claimed Daniel Carter had left no legitimate spouse and no verified heir.
“He says our marriage wasn’t legal?”
“Apparently.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Do you have the certificate?”
“Yes. In my trunk.”
“Which trunk?”
Emily’s face drained. The broken wagon. The trunk they had abandoned.
Jack understood immediately. “The black one?”
“Yes.”
“I thought it contained clothing.”
“The certificate was sewn into the lining.”
Jack swore softly, and Emily threw back the blanket. “We have to go back.”
“No.”
“My marriage certificate is there!”
“The road may have washed out.”
“Then we find another road.”
“You are not traveling today.”
“Jack—”
“No.”
She glared. “I am not one of your horses.”
“That would make this argument easier.”
Emily almost shouted, but instead she grabbed a pillow and threw it. Jack caught it as Mrs. Whitaker appeared in the doorway. “I see she’s feeling better.”
“He refuses to take me back.”
“He’s right.”
Emily stared at both of them. “You have formed an alliance.”
Mrs. Whitaker shrugged. “Temporary. Jack irritates me too.”
Emily sank back. “🎸If Samuel takes the property—”
“He won’t,” Jack said.
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
“Then why are you so calm?”
“Because I can ride faster without you.”
Emily stopped. “You’re going.”
“At first light.”
“To the wagon?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Jack frowned. “What do you mean, no?”
“What if something happens?”
“Nothing will.”
“You cannot promise that.” He held her gaze. Emily’s voice softened. “I already lost one Dawson.”
Jack’s expression changed. The words had slipped out before she could stop them. Neither moved, and Mrs. Whitaker quietly left.
Emily looked down. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” Jack’s voice was gentle. “And thank you.”
Chapter 4: The Journey to Cheyenne
The next morning, Jack rode east before sunrise while Emily watched from the porch. For the first time, she feared losing him—not because he represented Daniel, but because Jack had become Jack. The realization unsettled her.
During the next two days, she rested while Mrs. Whitaker prepared meals, but Jack did not return. By the second evening, Emily stood at the window every few minutes. “He should be back.”
Mrs. Whitaker kneaded bread. “He should.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means exactly what I said.”
Emily hated frontier women and their talent for making terrifying statements sound ordinary. Night fell. No Jack. Morning came. Still nothing. By noon, Emily could no longer sit.
Then a horse appeared—riderless. Jack’s horse.
Emily’s heart stopped. The saddle was empty, one stirrup hung loose, and mud streaked the animal’s flank. Emily ran from the porch despite Mrs. Whitaker shouting behind her, grabbing the bridle. “Where is he?”
Of course the horse could not answer. Then Emily saw something tied to the saddle: a strip of black cloth, not Jack’s, with a message pinned beneath it. Mrs. Whitaker pulled it free, and Emily read over her shoulder:
STOP THE CLAIM. LEAVE SWEETWATER. THE NEXT WARNING WILL NOT BE A WARNING.
Emily’s hands turned cold, and Mrs. Whitaker’s face hardened. “Samuel.”
“You think he has Jack?”
“I think someone wants us to believe that.”
Emily stared toward the road. “I’m going after him.”
“No.”
“You sound exactly like Jack.”
“Which should tell you how foolish the idea is.”
Emily turned. “He went back because of me.”
“He went because he chose to.”
“He could be hurt.”
“He could.”
“I’m not staying here.”
Mrs. Whitaker studied her, then sighed. “Fine.”
Emily blinked. “Fine?”
“You cannot ride.”
“I can sit in a wagon.”
“I have a wagon.”
“You said I shouldn’t travel.”
“I said you shouldn’t cross half the territory.” Mrs. Whitaker untied her apron. “We are going twelve miles to Sheriff Barnes.”
Emily almost smiled. “I like you.”
“Don’t. I have terrible habits.”
An hour later they were moving toward a small settlement called Red Bluff. The storm had torn branches from trees and carved deep channels into the road, but Emily held her belly through every bump and felt no contractions, which gave her courage.
Red Bluff consisted of a saloon, blacksmith shop, general store, church, and sheriff’s office. Mrs. Whitaker drove directly to the jailhouse, where Sheriff Barnes resided. Barnes was enormous—not tall, but wide, with a mustache looking capable of issuing warrants independently. He read the note.
“This came off Dawson’s horse?”
“Yes,” Emily said.
Barnes frowned. “Jack doesn’t lose horses.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Mrs. Whitaker replied.
The sheriff reached for his hat. “Where was he headed?”
Emily explained, and Barnes stopped when she mentioned Samuel Carter. “That snake.”
“You know him?”
“I know of him.”
Emily leaned forward. “Tell me.”
Barnes glanced toward her belly. “Maybe you should sit.”
“If one more person tells me to sit, I may commit a crime.”
Barnes slowly replaced the chair he had been offering. “Standing is fine.”
Mrs. Whitaker hid a smile, and Barnes opened a ledger. “Samuel Carter arrived three weeks ago with representatives from Continental Western Rail.”
“Why?”
“Land.”
Emily’s stomach tightened. “They know about the twins?”
“Not yet.”
“Samuel claims Daniel left no heirs.”
“That’s what I heard.”
Emily touched her belly. “What happens if he proves that?”
“Daniel’s share could become disputed. Samuel may claim it through the Carter estate.”
“But Daniel wasn’t truly a Carter by blood.”
Barnes raised an eyebrow. “That complicates things.”
“You have no idea.”
Emily explained Jack’s story, and by the end, the sheriff had removed his hat again. “Well,” he muttered, “that is one hell of a family reunion.”
“Can you help find Jack?”
Barnes stood. “I can.”
Three deputies rode with him, and Emily waited. Waiting had become the cruelest part of grief—waiting for footsteps that never came, for doors that never opened, for voices permanently absent. Now she sat in the sheriff’s office watching shadows move across the wall while Mrs. Whitaker dozed nearby.
At dusk, horses thundered outside. Emily jumped up as the door opened, and Sheriff Barnes entered. Behind him came Jack—alive, bruised, exhausted, and furious.
Emily crossed the room and slapped him. Again.
Jack blinked. Barnes removed his hat, and Mrs. Whitaker nodded approvingly.
“What was that for?” Jack demanded.
“For disappearing!”
“My horse threw me!”
“And the note?”
“I never saw a note.”
Emily stopped. Jack continued, “A rattlesnake spooked him near the ravine. I landed badly and walked six miles before Barnes found me.”
“So Samuel didn’t take you?”
“No.”
Barnes placed the black cloth on the desk. “Which means someone found Jack’s horse before it returned to Whitaker’s.”
Jack’s face darkened. “Someone is watching us.”
Emily’s relief vanished. “Did you reach my wagon?”
Jack nodded, then smiled faintly as he reached inside his coat. He pulled out the marriage certificate, and Emily nearly cried. “You found it.”
“I found more than that.”
“What?”
“Your trunk had been opened.”
Emily stared. “Nothing seemed stolen. But somebody searched it.”
Samuel. It had to be. Jack laid the certificate on the table, and Barnes examined it before frowning. “This could be a problem.”
Emily’s heart sank. “What now?”
“There’s no official territorial seal.”
“The minister signed it!”
“Which minister?”
“Reverend Thomas Bell.”
Barnes looked uncomfortable, and Jack noticed. “What?”
“Bell was expelled from his church last year.”
Emily’s stomach dropped. “For what?”
“Forging documents.”
The room went silent as Emily stared at the certificate. “No.”
Jack picked it up. “He married them before that.”
“Doesn’t matter if his authority had already been revoked.”
Emily felt faint. “So Samuel might be right.”
“No,” Jack said immediately.
“My marriage may not have been legal.”
“You and Daniel believed it was.”
“Belief doesn’t change the law.”
Barnes sighed. “Unfortunately, she’s right.”
Emily’s eyes filled. If her marriage was invalid, Samuel could challenge everything: her children’s inheritance, their name, Daniel’s property, and even her right to speak for them.
Jack paced. “There has to be another record.”
Barnes scratched his mustache. “Maybe.”
“Where?”
“The county registry in Cheyenne.”
Jack looked at Emily. “When can we leave?”
Barnes laughed. “You?”
“Yes.”
“With those ribs?”
“They’re bruised.”
“Probably cracked.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed, and Barnes raised both hands. “Fine. Go ruin yourself.”
Emily said, “I’m coming.”
“No.”
She looked at Jack, he looked at her, Mrs. Whitaker sighed, and Barnes slowly sat down.
Jack spoke carefully. “You need rest.”
“I need my children protected.”
“I can do that.”
“They are my children.”
“They are my brother’s children too.”
“Exactly. His. Not yours.”
The instant she said it, Emily regretted it. Jack’s face closed. He nodded once. “You’re right.”
He walked out. Emily watched the door, and Mrs. Whitaker clicked her tongue. “That was cruel.”
“I know.”
“Then fix it.”
Emily followed. Jack stood beside the hitching post. “I’m sorry.”
He did not turn. “I know you care about them.”
“They’re the only family I have.”
Emily’s throat tightened as Jack finally looked at her. “Do you understand that?”
She nodded. “I do now.”
The anger drained from him. “I spent months trying to find Daniel. Every morning I thought maybe that would be the day I saw my own face walking toward me.”
Emily began crying, and Jack looked helpless. “I’m sorry.”
“No. Keep talking.”
He swallowed. “Then I found his grave.”
Emily covered her mouth. “And I thought that was it.” He looked toward her belly. “Then I heard about you.” His voice broke. “And them.”
Emily stepped closer. “You didn’t lose your brother completely.”
Jack looked at her. “No.”
“You found what he left behind.”
He smiled painfully. “So did you.”
Two days later, against nearly everyone’s advice, Emily rode toward Cheyenne in Mrs. Whitaker’s wagon with Jack traveling beside her and Sheriff Barnes sending Deputy Cole along. The journey took three careful days, and on the third afternoon, the city appeared in the distance. Emily had never been so relieved to see rooftops.
They went directly to the county registry, where the clerk searched dusty ledgers. An hour passed, then two, until finally he returned. “No record of marriage between Daniel Carter and Emily Hayes.”
Emily felt the floor vanish beneath her. Jack gripped the counter. “Search again.”
“I did.”
“Search every book.”
“I did.”
Emily whispered, “Samuel wins.”
“Not yet,” Jack said.
A slow clap sounded behind them, and they turned to see a thin man standing in the doorway in a gray suit with a silver watch chain and a cold smile. Emily recognized him from Daniel’s descriptions.
Samuel Carter.
“Well,” he said, “the grieving widow finally arrives.”
Jack moved between them, and Samuel’s gaze settled on him. “And you must be the brother who crawled out of nowhere.”
Jack said nothing. Samuel smiled. “Remarkable resemblance.”
Emily stepped around Jack. “What do you want?”
“What belongs to the Carter family.”
“It belongs to Daniel’s children.”
“If Daniel had legitimate children.” Emily’s face burned. Samuel continued, “And if Daniel was legally married.”
“He was.”
“Records say otherwise.”
“You know we were married.”
“I know you lived together.”
Jack stepped forward, and Samuel’s smile faded. “Careful.”
Jack stopped. Samuel glanced toward Emily’s belly. “So those are the supposed heirs?”
Emily instinctively covered herself. Jack’s voice became dangerously calm. “Look at her like that again and we’re going to have a problem.”
Samuel chuckled. “Daniel always had the same temper.”
Emily froze. “What did you say?”
Samuel realized too late. Daniel had always claimed he barely remembered Samuel, yet Samuel spoke as if he had known him intimately.
Emily stared. “You knew Daniel better than he told me.”
Samuel adjusted his cuffs. “I knew my nephew.”
“No.” Jack’s eyes narrowed.
Emily stepped closer. “You knew.”
Samuel looked toward the door, where Deputy Cole had moved in front of it.
Emily continued. “You knew Daniel wasn’t really a Carter.”
Samuel’s expression changed only slightly, but enough. Jack saw it too. “How?” he asked.
Samuel smiled without warmth. “You’re making assumptions.”
Emily remembered Daniel’s final weeks: the unexplained letters, the nights he had sat awake, his insistence that she leave Nebraska and travel west if anything happened to him, and the small packet of money he had hidden beneath the floorboards. Emily had thought he feared leaving her penniless. But what if Daniel had known?
“What did Daniel discover?” she whispered.
Samuel’s face became stone, and Jack looked at Emily. “What are you talking about?”
Emily barely heard him. Three nights before Daniel died, he had said something strange: If anybody ever tells you I wasn’t who I said I was, remember that I was always yours. At the time, she believed grief and fever had confused him. Now, her heart pounded.
“He knew.”
Samuel’s silence answered. Emily stepped closer. “Daniel knew he had a brother.”
Jack went pale. “No.”
“Yes.”
Samuel sighed. “This is becoming tiresome.”
Jack grabbed Samuel’s lapel, and Deputy Cole intervened instantly. “Dawson!”
Jack released him. “Tell me.”
Samuel smoothed his coat. “I have nothing to tell you.”
Then a woman’s voice came from the corridor. “I do.”
Everyone turned. An elderly woman stood outside the registry room, leaning heavily on a cane, dressed in plain black with her white hair pinned tightly beneath a bonnet.
Samuel’s face lost all color. Emily had never seen him afraid.
The woman walked slowly inside as Jack stared. “Who are you?”
Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at Emily, then Jack. “My name is Ruth Carter.”
Emily whispered, “Daniel’s mother?”
Ruth shook her head. “No.” She looked directly at Jack. “I was the woman who bought your brother.”
Silence swallowed the room. Samuel whispered, “You should be dead.”
Ruth smiled coldly. “Disappointed?”
Jack stood utterly still as Emily reached for his hand. Ruth opened her handbag, revealing documents, ledgers, letters, a birth record, and one sealed envelope.
She prepared to speak.
