Montana Lawman Rescuer. Linda Ford

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 and get it while it’s hot.”

      Emily jerked around. What had she been thinking, to waste time sitting on the garden bench when she should be helping? She rushed to the woman, her haste bringing on a bout of dizziness. She paused and sucked in air. “Forgive me for not helping you more.”

      Mrs. Whitley chuckled. “It seems to me you need to remember that you have been in a serious accident and need to be resting.”

      “But I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”

      “You need to be gentle with yourself.” The older woman studied her with kindly eyes. “Too often young people like you are hard on themselves. If only I could make every one of you see that you need to slow down and enjoy the present.”

      Emily laughed softly. “I think I have no choice but to do so at the moment, seeing as I have no past and no future.”

      Jesse came in from the other room. She hadn’t heard him return. He squeezed her shoulder. “Whatever your past, your present and your future, it is safe in God’s hands.”

      Mrs. Whitley patted Emily’s arm. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” She whistled for the dog. Mikey laughed as he trotted after the animal.

      “Did you find out anything?” Emily asked Jesse.

      “George Marshall says there’s a couple by the name of Abigail and John Newman north of Wolf Hollow. I’ll go out tomorrow and see if I can locate them.”

      Her heart clung to her ribs. “I’ll come along, if I may. If it’s them, then—” She glanced toward Mikey. He would be joining his new parents.

      And what would become of her? Would she stay, as the Hilda who wrote the letter suggested? Or would they prefer she leave them to adjust on their own?

      She didn’t know what to expect and tears threatened. She would not cry and she forced her attention to the table covered with a red-and-green checkered tablecloth and set with four places of white china. Emily studied the table. Was there something familiar about it? Or was she only hoping for a reminder of any sort? A clear vase held a bouquet of flowers, among them sweet peas, their aroma subtly filling the air.

      Jesse pointed her toward a basin of hot water and she helped Mikey wash up, and then washed and dried her own hands and face. A small mirror above the cupboard revealed how disheveled her hair was. She smoothed it back with her hands. Bits of dirt and grass fell to her shoulders.

      “I am truly a mess.” She would like nothing better than a bath. Mikey needed one, also. But she couldn’t ask her hosts to go to the trouble of filling a tub for her. Perhaps she could do it herself. The pain in the side of her head reminded her she wouldn’t be able to. She’d have to be content to be safe in a kind home.

      She returned to the table and sat on the chair Mrs. Whitley indicated. Mikey sat at her left. Jesse dropped into the chair across from her, and his grandmother sat at the head of the table to Emily’s right.

      “Jesse, would you ask the blessing?” his grandmother said.

      Jesse bowed his head. “Dear heavenly Father, we are grateful for so many things. For the lives of Emily and Mikey spared in the accident.” His voice deepened.

      Emily stole a glance from under her eyelids, amazed to see the man’s throat work as if his emotions had grown too strong to bear. Did it really matter that much to him? Why would it, other than he was a kind and caring man?

      She closed her eyes as he continued. “Help Emily’s memory to return. Help me find the men and bring them to justice. Thank you for the sunshine and the rain, for the good times and the bad times, and for the bounty we are about to enjoy. Amen.”

      “Amen,” Mrs. Whitley echoed.

      Emily kept her head lowered a moment longer. For good times and bad times? Could she thank God for both? This would surely qualify as a bad time. She wasn’t about to rejoice about losing her memory. But she would trust God to bring it back. For that she would be glad.

      She took the bowl of mashed potatoes Mrs. Whitley passed, served herself and helped Mikey. Stewed meat in rich gravy, baby carrots fresh from the garden and sweet lettuce, also from the garden, followed. She enjoyed a taste of each.

      “Mrs. Whitley, this is excellent. Thank you.”

      “It’s ordinary fare. But thank you and please, would you call me Gram? I think it would be so much easier for you.”

      “Thank you, Gram.”

      “The young man, as well.” She reached for Mikey’s hand. “Would you like to call me Gram?”

      His eyes widened. “My Gram?”

      “Yes, I can be your gram if you like.”

      “’Kay.” He gave a heartwarming smile then returned to enjoying his meal.

      As they ate, both Gram and Jesse told her more about the town and the area. She suspected they hoped something they said would help her remember, but nothing