“Papa!”
She stopped halfway down the steps.
Her brown eyes landed on Mary.
Then Clara.
The girl’s expression transformed.
“Is that her?”
Mary went still.
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
“Sarah.”
But Sarah rushed forward.
She stared at Clara with extraordinary intensity.
“You really came.”
Clara looked at her mother.
Mary’s heart began pounding.
“Ethan.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
Sarah’s smile faded.
“Papa?”
“What does she mean?” Mary demanded.
Ethan looked toward the ranch hands.
“Take the horses.”
Then he faced Mary.
“Come inside.”
“No.”
Mary stepped backward.
“You knew who I was before you approached me.”
“Yes.”
“You told your daughter I was coming.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sarah looked confused.
“Because of the picture.”
Silence.
Ethan’s face changed.
“Sarah.”
Too late.
Mary stared at the child.
“What picture?”
Sarah turned toward her father.
“I thought she knew.”
Mary’s voice dropped.
“What picture?”
Ethan rubbed a hand across his face.
Then finally opened the farmhouse door.
“I’ll show you.”
Mary should have run.
Every instinct told her to.
But curiosity held her almost as powerfully as fear.
She followed him inside.
The house smelled of wood smoke, coffee, and something savory cooking on the stove.
Warmth wrapped around Mary instantly.
Clara sighed.
A gray-haired housekeeper appeared from the kitchen.
She saw Mary.
The bowl in her hands nearly slipped.
“My Lord.”
Mary stopped.
The woman’s eyes filled with tears.
“It really is her.”
Mary turned to Ethan.
“That’s enough.”
He nodded toward his study.
“Come with me.”
Mary crouched before Clara.
“Stay here.”
“But Mama—”
“I’ll be right there.”
Sarah immediately took Clara’s hand.
“I’ll show you the kittens.”
Mary almost protested.
Then she saw how Clara’s face lit up.
She followed Ethan into the study.
He closed the door.
Mary remained standing.
“Talk.”
Ethan crossed to a locked cabinet.
He removed a key from around his neck and opened it.
Inside were ledgers.
Documents.
A revolver.
And a small wooden box.
Ethan carried the box to the desk.
Mary’s heart pounded harder.
He opened it.
Inside lay a photograph.
A photograph of Mary.
She recognized it instantly.
She had been twenty-two when it was taken.
Daniel stood behind her.
One hand rested on her shoulder.
Mary was holding infant Clara.
The photograph had been taken outside their first home.
Mary stared at it.
Her mouth went dry.
“How did you get that?”
Ethan said nothing.
Mary grabbed the photograph.
On the back, written in Daniel’s unmistakable handwriting, were five words.
FIND THEM IF I FAIL.
Mary’s knees weakened.
“Where did you get this?”
“From my wife.”
Mary looked up.
“Rebecca?”
Ethan nodded.
“She had it hidden with a stack of documents.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither did I.”
He pulled a chair toward her.
Mary refused to sit.
Ethan continued.
“Rebecca became sick about three months before she died. At first we thought it was fever.”
His face tightened.
“But some days she was clear-minded. Other days she was terrified.”
“Of what?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
He pointed to the photograph.
“The night before she died, she made me promise something.”
Mary’s hand trembled around the picture.
“What?”
“That if a woman named Mary Whitfield ever came to Cedar Ridge with a little blonde girl named Clara…”
His eyes met hers.
“…I was to protect you with my life.”
Mary stared at him.
