Chapter Sixteen
“FOSTER? THAT YOU?”
Max pushed himself away from the wall outside the darkened and closed hardware store to see Marshal James Wright standing nearby.
He went to pull out his pocket watch, but it was at home, on the night table where he’d left it. “Marshal,” he said in greeting. “Do you have the time?”
“It’s gone past one o’clock.” Wright ran a hand over his tired face. “Allen called me over to the Starlight to remove a couple men causing trouble. What are you doing out this late?”
“Had an argument with my wife.” There was no point in being dishonest, and Max was too tired to think of any other way to say it.
Wright nodded, as if he understood.
“She told me something she ought to have said right away. She’s not who I thought she was.” He didn’t know why he was saying all of this to the marshal. It was late, and his mind was only half-functioning, and maybe he just needed someone to listen.
Wright sighed and glanced down the road, his gaze tracing the few people who were out at this hour. “Believe it or not, I’ve been in that position. All I can say is to hear her out. Then it’s up to you to forgive her—or not.”
Max stared at him, wondering what kind of secret Mrs. Wright had kept from him.
“You headed home?” Wright asked, his eyes back on Max.
Max nodded. The marshal slapped him on the back and wished him luck, and they parted.
Back at home, he crept in the door and stood there for a moment.
There was no noise at all from upstairs.
Anna’s soft breathing sounded from the corner of the parlor.
Max felt his way to the kitchen and found a lamp.
Once the light flickered warmly across the room, he went looking for the newspapers he’d brought home for Delia.
He found them in a basket in the parlor and brought the entire thing into the kitchen. Settling himself into a chair, he pulled out the paper on the top and opened it. He turned the pages slowly until he found what he was looking for.
The Ladies’ Corner by Miss E.
Miss E. That had to be Cordelia Elliott.
His spine stiffened just looking at her name. He’d trusted her. He believed she married him because she wanted him, not a subject to write about.
Max took a breath as Marshal Wright’s words ran through his head again. What happened next was his decision, and he owed it to himself to learn as much as he could before he made it.
So, he started reading.
The columns weren’t anything particularly groundbreaking, as far as news went.
They were clearly written, effortless with a light sense of humor so subtle that Max didn’t realize he was smiling until he put the paper down.
Delia must have enjoyed writing these, or she wouldn’t have filled her time with it, but he could also see how she yearned for something more exciting to write about.
He frowned as he folded the papers and returned them to the basket, knowing there was still one more thing he could read.
As silently as possible, he crept upstairs with the lamplight lowered as far as it could go.
Delia was asleep, and the pages he was searching for sat on her dressing table, next to the jewelry box where she’d hidden them before.
Max picked them up, gathered the clothing he’d set out for the next day and his valise, and with one last look at Delia, went back downstairs.
He extinguished the lamp. And then he went to the hotel.
MAX PRESSED A HAND to his mouth to hide yet another yawn. Thankfully, it had been a quiet day at the hotel. It had given him plenty of time to think, to reread some of what Delia had written.
And to make a decision.
“You look like you’re going to fall asleep standing up.” Liam came to join him near the front desk. “It’s past time for you to head home for the night.”
Max opened his mouth to protest, but Liam shook his head.
“I run the place. I’m telling you to go home. Make up with your wife. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“All right,” Max conceded. “I’ll be in early.”
Liam shook his head, but he was smiling. “Go. Get some rest.”
Max gathered up the things he’d left in the unused room where he’d gotten approximately one hour of sleep the night before. He tucked Delia’s writing into the valise and headed outside.
He stood in front of the hotel for a moment, taking in the cooling air and the view of the mountains soaring up to the sky toward the west. It was funny how spending so much time contemplating his life and everything that meant so much to him made him appreciate the world around him even more.
Drawing in a determined breath, he started toward home. When he reached the house, he hesitated a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. The words he planned to say to Delia went through his mind. And more than anything, he realized, he wanted to know what she would say.
He pressed the door open, only to find an empty house.
“Delia? Anna?” he called, just in case they were upstairs. But no one answered him. The scent of roasting meat met his nose, and he wandered back to the kitchen. Supper was in the oven, but Delia was nowhere around.
Furrowing his brow, Max returned to the parlor.
Everything was neat and in its place, even in Anna’s corner.
He marveled over the change in the girl.
If Delia left, he was so afraid of what that would do to Anna.
But it would be better for her to leave if she couldn’t be honest with him when he spoke to her.
The front door opened then, and Delia bustled in with a wrapped parcel. She stopped short when she saw him. “Max.”
The sound of his name on her tongue almost undid him. Half of him wanted to cast aside all his doubts and sweep her up into his arms. The other half ached at the sight of her and wanted nothing more than to leave and go back to the hotel.
“I’m so happy you’re home,” she said, sounding relieved as she set the parcel on the nearby endtable. “Where is Anna?”
“Likely with her friends.”
Delia frowned. “No, she told me she was going to meet you at the hotel. She wanted to surprise you there and walk home with you.”
“I came straight from the hotel,” Max said. “I didn’t see Anna. Are you sure that’s where she went?”
“She’s been so careful to tell me where she’s going lately,” Delia replied. “I can’t see her lying to me.”
She was right. Max moved toward the door. “I’ll walk back and look for her.”
“All right.” Delia laid a hand on his arm.
Max didn’t shake it off. A hundred emotions clashed with just the feel of her warm hand against his sleeve, but there would be time to think about that later. To talk to her, and to figure it out. Right now, he needed to get Anna. “I’ll find her,” he said, both reassuring Delia and himself.
But after walking the route between home and the hotel twice, searching the entire building, and talking to both Liam and the new front desk clerk, Max came up empty.
“I’ll go to her friends’ homes,” Delia said when he returned without Anna. “Maybe she went there after all.”
He nodded. “I’ll go by her favorite shops.”
But an hour later, the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, and they still hadn’t located Anna.
Max met Delia at the house, and wordlessly, he led the way to the marshal’s office.
“Foster.” Marshal Wright stood. “Mrs. Foster. I didn’t expect to see you both here.” He gave Max a curious look.
Max shifted uncomfortably. “This isn’t about . . . our conversation,” he said quickly. He could feel Delia’s questioning eyes on him. “My daughter, Anna, was supposed to meet me at the hotel, but she never arrived. We’ve searched everywhere, and we can’t find her.”
“Could she have visited a friend?” Wright asked.
Max shook his head in answer to that question, and to every other suggestion Wright made. They’d already thought of all of them.
Wright nodded thoughtfully, and then reached for the hat on his desk. “I’ll get a few men together. Meet me back here in half an hour. We’ll comb this town until we find her.”
“I’ll wait at home,” Delia said. “Just in case she comes back there.”
“That’s good,” Wright said, holding the door open for them.
Max walked Delia back to the house. She stood in the open door and looked up at him with worried eyes. “You don’t suppose she’s hurt?” she asked.
Every horrible possibility had already run through Max’s mind. “She’s a strong little girl,” he said with more courage than he felt. “It would take a lot to hurt her.”
Delia gave him a wavering smile. “I’ll send word right away if she comes home.”
Max paused, every fear he had reflected in Delia’s eyes. In that moment, her motivation for marrying him didn’t matter, not when he saw the concern she held for Anna. He lifted a hand and rested it on her cheek. “I’ll find her, I promise.”
Delia closed her eyes and nodded.
And Max left, intending to hold himself to that promise. He’d find his daughter if it was the last thing on this earth that he did.