She touched the scar on his forehead.
“He was injured trying to protect our mother.”
Koda looked at her.
Something stirred in his expression.
“Nara?”
She began crying.
“Yes.”
He reached toward her.
“Sister?”
Nara embraced him.
Eli stepped backward, overwhelmed.
Then he looked at the wooden horse.
“But why does he have Samuel’s toy?”
The nurse hesitated.
“There is something else.”
She retrieved an envelope from the hospital’s records cabinet.
It had been sealed for eight years.
Written across the front were the words:
For Eli Ward, if he ever comes looking.
Eli broke the seal.
Inside was a letter.
Rebecca’s handwriting.
His dead wife’s handwriting.
He sat down before his legs failed.
The letter began:
My dearest Eli,
If you are reading this, then I have failed to return home.
There is something I must tell you.
Samuel did not die of fever.
Eli stopped breathing.
He looked at Nara.
Then he continued.
Dr. Bell warned me that the medicine was poisoned. I took Samuel away before he could be given another dose.
I asked a young Apache man named Koda to help us escape through the mountains.
He had been injured during the raid, but he agreed.
We were attacked on the road.
I do not know what happened to Koda afterward.
Samuel and I escaped, but I fear Dugan will find us.
If I cannot return, know that I loved you.
And know this above all else.
“Our son is alive.”
Eli stared at the words.
His hands shook so violently that the paper rattled.
Below the final sentence was a place name.
A small settlement across the mountains.
And a date.
Eight years earlier.
Nara knelt beside him.
“Eli…”
He could not speak.
Rebecca had escaped.
Samuel had escaped.
The graves beneath the cottonwood were empty.
But what had happened afterward?
Why had Rebecca never returned?
Why had Eli been told they were dead?
And where was Samuel now?
Chapter Seventeen: The Woman at the End of the Road
They left the hospital the following morning.
Koda remained under medical care, but Nara promised to return for him.
The settlement named in Rebecca’s letter was called Willow Crossing.
It lay beyond the northern mountains, nearly four days away.
Eli rode as though the devil himself were chasing him.
He barely slept.
Barely ate.
And every mile brought another terrifying possibility.
Perhaps Rebecca had died after writing the letter.
Perhaps Samuel had been taken again.
Perhaps the truth had arrived too late.
On the fourth afternoon, they reached Willow Crossing.
It was a peaceful little place.
Whitewashed houses stood beside a narrow river.
Children played beneath budding apple trees.
A church bell rang in the distance.
Eli stopped outside the general store.
He showed the owner Rebecca’s photograph.
“Have you seen this woman?”
The shopkeeper examined it.
Then he looked at Eli.
“What’s your business with her?”
Eli’s voice cracked.
“She’s my wife.”
The man stared.
“Your wife?”
“Please.”
The shopkeeper slowly removed his hat.
“Sir…”
Eli felt his heart stop.
“Is she dead?”
The man shook his head.
“No.”
Eli gripped the counter.
“Where is she?”
The shopkeeper pointed toward a small white house at the end of the road.
“She lives there.”
Eli stumbled outside.
He barely remembered crossing the street.
He barely remembered opening the gate.
But he remembered the door.
The faded blue paint.
The brass handle.
The sound of footsteps approaching from inside.
Then the door opened.
A woman stood before him.
Her hair had silver in it now.
There were lines around her eyes.
But he knew her.
He would have known her in darkness.
He would have known her after a hundred lifetimes.
“Rebecca?”
She stared.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Eli?”
For one impossible moment, neither moved.
Then she fell into his arms.
They clung to each other as though the world were ending.
Eli buried his face in her hair.
He had forgotten its scent.
Forgotten the warmth of her skin.
Forgotten what it felt like to hold someone without fearing they would vanish.
“You’re alive,” he whispered.
Rebecca sobbed.
“I tried to come home.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She pulled back.
Her face twisted with grief.
“Because Dugan told me you were dead.”
Eli stared.
“He showed me a grave. He said he’d killed you when you tried to find us.”
Eli shook his head.
“He told me you were dead too.”
Rebecca began crying harder.
“He said if I ever returned, he’d kill Samuel.”
Eli held her face between his hands.
“Where is he?”
Rebecca looked toward the house.
Then she smiled through her tears.
“He’s out back.”
A young man emerged from the orchard.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and familiar gray eyes.
He carried a basket of apples.
When he saw Rebecca crying, he stopped.
“Ma?”
She turned toward him.
“Samuel.”
The young man looked at Eli.
His expression changed.
He had seen the photograph Rebecca kept beside her bed.
