Montana Lawman Rescuer

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 came to her.

As soon as they finished, Gram brought them each a bowl of fresh raspberries with cream so thick they had to spoon it out of the bowl. Again, the raspberries made her remember a time of laughter and joy and an older woman. She closed her eyes and tried to get a clearer picture of the person she knew to be her grandmother. All that came was a merry laugh and a big red apron with generous pockets.

She opened her eyes to find Jesse and Gram watching her. Jesse’s eyes asked a silent question and she shook her head. “I hear laughter, but that is all.”

He held her gaze, his eyes full of encouragement. “It’s nice to know your first memories are of happy times in your life. I hope the rest of your memories are as happy and sweet when they come.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth to hold back a protest. When she could speak without giving away her fear, she said, “Seems too much to think I wouldn’t have my share of good and bad.”

“Every life needs both sunshine and rain. Just like my flowers out there,” Gram said.

“Described that way, I will try and be happy about both.” At the moment, she’d be glad to simply get her memory back.

But despite having said that, a shiver crossed her shoulders. There were times, she knew, that the bad could be so awful it was more like a destructive hailstorm than a nourishing rain.

Jesse must have read her thoughts, because he leaned forward. “Emily.”

She turned to him, immediately finding strength in his steady brown eyes.

“‘I will trust and not fear.’”

She nodded. “I have to keep reminding myself.”