Chapter Sixteen #2
“She disappeared several weeks ago.” He paused, choosing his words with practiced care.
“There was no argument between us. Nothing of that sort.” He managed a weary smile.
“The poor girl has been under a great deal of strain since her mother’s passing, and...
well... grief affects people differently.
” The lie came effortlessly. “Her family has been beside themselves with worry.”
He glanced down for a moment, allowing just enough silence to suggest genuine emotion. “She isn’t accustomed to traveling alone. She’s a gentle soul—quiet, shy. The sort of young lady who trusts too easily.”
The shopkeeper’s hand came to rest against her chest. “How dreadful.”
“We believe she boarded a westbound train in a frightened state.” His brow furrowed with convincing concern.
“The last thing she said was that she needed to get away for a little while. No one imagined she truly meant to leave.” He sighed heavily.
“I’ve been following her trail from town to town ever since. ”
His voice softened. “Her father is an old friend of mine. The poor man scarcely sleeps. Every day he asks whether I’ve found his little girl.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded handkerchief, turning it absently between his fingers. “I promised him I would bring her safely home.”
The woman blinked rapidly. “Oh... that poor family.”
Gideon nodded solemnly. “They’ve suffered enough already.”
“I can imagine,” the shopkeeper sympathized.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen a young lady, about twenty-two? She’s rather tall, with chestnut-brown hair and gray eyes.” He paused. “She’s quite beautiful,” he added quietly, as though remembering her fondly. “Though I imagine she’d look terribly frightened after so many days alone.”
The shopkeeper closed her eyes for a moment, as though searching her memory.
“Perhaps she passed through here? He pressed. “Her name is Ruth Turner.”
The woman opened her eyes and frowned. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I don’t recall anyone by that name.”
Gideon clenched his jaw for a moment before releasing it. “Have any young women traveled through town recently? he asked. “Anyone new to Weatherford?”
“Well, Nora been here for a few weeks,” she said.
“And now that I think about it, she certainly fits the description of the woman you are looking for.” The shopkeeper shook her head then, waving a hand.
“But she can’t be the one that you are looking for,” she said.
“She came to Weatherford to marry Henry Foster.”
For the first time since entering the store, Gideon’s composure faltered. “She... married?”
The woman nodded. “Just recently,” she said. “And in truth, we weren’t sure what to think of her. Not to many mail-order brides in town. But she’s a lovely thing. Comes to church every Sunday, and from what I hear she’s been wonderful with little Lola. Poor child has taken quite a liking to her.”
Gideon scarcely heard the words. His thoughts had already raced elsewhere. Ruth had fled with nothing but the clothes she could carry. Which meant the woman who boarded that train had encountered someone else. Someone with a destination, whose life could be borrowed.
He suddenly recalled what the clerk had told him at the train station earlier that day. He had seen two women. One brunette and the other blonde. Yet only one had got off in Weatherford. His mind settled upon the only explanation that fit. The two women had exchanged places.
His pulse remained remarkably steady. Inside, however, something dark tightened. Gideon looked back at the shopkeeper. “You mentioned that the man she married is a Henry Foster?”
“Yes,” she said. “One of the local ranchers. Family’s been here for generations—"
“Where does he live?” he asked, cutting her off.
The woman hesitated only briefly before gesturing toward the western edge of town. “A few miles outside Weatherford. Foster Ranch. Everyone knows where it is.”
“I’m grateful for your kindness.” He reached for his hat and the woman smiled sympathetically.
“I hope you find your fiancée,” she said.
Gideon inclined his head politely before turning to leave. He stepped back onto the boardwalk, the afternoon sun warming his face as wagons rumbled past.
His horse waited patiently at the hitching rail and for a long moment, Gideon stood without moving. His eyes drifted toward the western horizon where the ranches lay scattered across the prairie.
So. Ruth Turner had not merely run. She had hidden herself beneath another woman’s name. She had taken another woman’s place and had even found herself a husband.
The audacity of it might almost have been admirable. Almost. His smile slowly disappeared.
She had made one mistake. She had believed that changing her name meant changing who she was. But names were only words. Faces could not be rewritten and nor could the past.
With deliberate calm, Gideon untied his horse’s reins and swung into the saddle. There would be no dramatic confrontation. Not yet.
First, he wanted to see her and to confirm he was right. Then, he wanted to look in her eyes and watch the moment she realized her past had finally caught up with her. Only then would he decide exactly how best to reclaim what she had tried to steal from him.