“There is a guest room behind the storehouse. Don’t wander after dark. The company has men watching the trails.”
Jack took the lantern, but before he could thank her, Naya added, “And if you recognize the pendant she wears, tell her. She has spent years wondering whether the man who gave it to her is alive.”
Jack watched her walk away. The star with the missing point had belonged to his mother. She had given it to a little girl who had been found after a winter storm near the border, a child whose name he had never learned. He had been eight years old then, too young to understand why the girl disappeared from their ranch the next morning. He had been told she was being taken to relatives. He had not thought of her in years.
Now the memory returned with painful clarity: a small hand holding the pendant, dark eyes above a blanket, and his mother saying, “One day, perhaps, you’ll meet again.” Jack sat beneath the cold stars, suddenly afraid that the woman behind the veil was connected to his family in a way neither of them had yet understood.
Jack slept little. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the silver star and the frightened child from the winter storm. His mother had died before he could ask her what became of the girl. His father had refused to speak about the incident, and Daniel had been too young to remember it. Jack had spent years assuming that the child had reached a safe home somewhere across the territory. He had never imagined the story could lead him here, to a valley threatened by a company that measured human lives in acres and profit.
At dawn, he found Isabel near the spring, feeding a handful of grain to a gray mare. She wore no veil in the empty grove, though a blue scarf lay ready in her hand. The scar near her temple was clearer in the morning light. Her face was neither the monstrous mask the town’s gossip had described nor the flawless beauty of a dime-novel heroine. It was a living face, expressive and strong, with a small unevenness at the bridge of her nose and a faint line beside her mouth where she had once been injured. What stopped Jack was not her appearance. It was the way the sight of her pulled a memory into focus: the child in his mother’s blanket had had the same scar, though much smaller.
Isabel noticed his stare and immediately reached for the scarf.
“You are looking at me as if you know something.”
“I might. I’m trying to be certain before I say it.”
“People often say that before they tell a woman what she ought to remember.”
Jack looked away, ashamed of the truth in her words.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t make a guess into your burden.”
She studied him for a long moment, then lowered the scarf without tying it.
“My mother told me I was found after a storm, near a burned wagon, when I was a small child. I had no memory of my first family. There was a pendant, but I was told it belonged to the woman who found me. I have asked about it many times. My mother died before she could tell me more.”
“Who found you?”
“A trader named Elena. She brought me to the valley and raised me with her sister. Chief Samuel adopted me into his household when Elena became ill. He has been my father in every way that matters.” Isabel’s voice hardened.
“If you are about to tell me that blood matters more than the people who raised me, save your breath.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Jack took a slow breath.
“My mother once cared for a little girl who had been found after a winter storm. She wore a silver star pendant. I remember the scar near her temple. I was a boy, and I was told the child was taken to relatives. I never knew what happened after that.”
Isabel’s hand closed around the pendant.
“You think it was me.”
“I think there may be a connection. I don’t know the truth yet.”
For several seconds, the only sound was the mare tearing grass. Isabel’s eyes filled, but she did not cry.
“If your family gave me away, why?”
“I don’t know. I was eight. My father would not talk about it, and my mother died before I could ask. I’m sorry.”