Brandon regarded the boy with furrowed brow. “Where? When?”

  The boy brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. “This morning. On the train.”

  Brandon reared back with a startled look. “Was . . . was she with anyone?”

  “No, sir. She was all by herself.” He went on to explain that he was selling newspapers during the train stop that morning when he saw her, but Brandon had already left with long, hurried strides.

  Josie chased after him. “Wait!” She finally caught up to him at the train station in front of the ticket booth.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I know where Haley is. She’s gone back to San Antone.”

  The thought of a child traveling by herself gave Josie the chills. She glanced at the station clock. The train was due to arrive in less than half an hour. “I’ll go with you.”

  His gaze alighted on the notebook in her hand. “This is a private family matter.”

  His words hurt. After last night, did he really think her interest in Haley’s safety was strictly business? “Haley is a friend and was once very kind to me when I was having a bad time. I’m concerned. That’s the only reason I want to go with you.” To prove she spoke the truth, she dumped her notebook into the nearby waste barrel.

  He studied her for moment as if to weigh the truth of her words before turning back to the ticket booth. “Make that two tickets to San Antone.”

  ***

  Less than forty minutes later they had boarded the train and now sat across from one another, their feet mere inches apart. The train was relatively empty at that time of day, and for that Josie was grateful.

  Before leaving the station, Brandon had sent a telegram to the San Antonio city marshal asking for his help. Now he stared out the smoke-smeared window at the big yellow sun slowly working its way across a pale azure sky. Josie could only guess what was going through his mind.

  She tried thinking of something to say to ease his mind. “Haley’s a smart girl.” That had been evident on their first meeting during Haley’s encounter with the grocer. “Any nine-year-old brave enough to travel by herself is smart enough to take care of herself,” she added with more conviction than she felt. She didn’t want to think about the possible dangers found in a city the size of San Antonio.

  Brandon pulled his gaze away from the window. “How did you come to know my daughter?”

  Josie thought back to that first meeting. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but she’d let Mr. Gardner’s chickens out of their cages, and he was fit to be tied. She said the cages were dirty and smelled.”

  He chuckled ruefully. “Sounds like my girl.”

  Josie’s mouth curved upward in a half smile. “She reminds me of my sister Amanda. She was always trying to save the world and everything in it. Still is.”

  “I guess that’s not such a bad thing.” His gaze dropped to her lips before he quickly looked away.

  An awkward silence stretched between them, broken only by the clickety-clack of steel wheels against track. Sighing, Josie followed his gaze out the window. It must have been a shock for Haley to find her father in a woman’s arms. Did he blame their kiss for his daughter’s disappearance? Was that why she had run away?

  Casting her gazed downward to her clenched hands, she moistened her lips and reached for her locket. “Do you think Haley left because we . . . because of what happened last night?”

  She heard his intake of breath. “Haley’s been going through a bad time lately. She’s pretty much had me all to herself since her mother died. It probably didn’t help.”

  She lifted her gaze to his tortured eyes. “I’m so sorry—”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” His gaze fell on the hand on her locket before he turned back to the window. “It won’t happen again.”

  The gold heart beneath her palm offered no comfort. Nor had Brandon’s promise. Instead of feeling relieved by his vow she felt . . . what? Not saddened or disappointed. For that would imply the kiss meant something. And it hadn’t. Couldn’t.

  After a long silence, he said, “Tell me about your husband.”

  The question, coming as it did from seemingly nowhere, surprised her. No one had allowed her to talk about Ralph. Just the mere mention of his name never failed to create an awkward pause in conversation, followed by a hasty change of subject. Her friends and family didn’t mean to be unkind or thoughtless; they honestly believed that loss and grief was best served by silence.

  What they didn’t know—couldn’t know without firsthand experience—is that after death came the dying, and it was a long, painful ordeal that no amount of suppression could prevent.

  .She dropped her hand to her lap and began. “Ralph owned the leather shop in town.” Pausing, she waited for the pain that inevitably followed the mention of his name. The gut-wrenching grief. The burning sensation in her chest. The clenched stomach and sudden tears. Surprisingly, she felt none of those things. Instead, she felt only the sadness that continued to dog her. This was followed by an overwhelming need to talk to someone who had walked the same dark valley.

  And so she continued, slowly at first, as if to weigh his reaction before spilling the contents of her heart. “As a child, he had consumption that left him with weak lungs.” She went on to explain how they had met at a barn dance. “He was in Two-Time visiting his cousin and liked it so much he’d decided to stay.”

  “I’m sure you had something to do with that decision,” Brandon said.

  Feeling heat rushed to her face, she didn’t know she’d unconsciously reached for her locket again until she saw Brandon’s lowered gaze.

  This time when she dropped her hand to her lap, she held it there with the other. “We moved to Arizona hoping the dry climate would help his lungs.” She went on to describe all that had happened there. Talking about Ralph felt surprisingly satisfying. Cleansing.

  It was only afterwards, when she fell silent, that she felt Brandon’s magnetic pull. By opening up emotionally, she had somehow created a dangerous undertow that threatened to overtake her.

  “Tell me about your wife,” she said, hoping to break the tension between them.

  He took so long to answer that she began to think he wouldn’t. “I’m sorry, Brandon. If you’d rather not talk about her, I understand. It helped talking about Ralph, and I thought it would help you to talk about your wife.”

  He inhaled as people tended to do when faced with a difficult task. “Her name was Colleen. We met at church.” After the initial hesitation, the words began to flow. He described his wife so vividly, Josie could almost picture her in her mind. She’d died of Bright’s disease after contacting malaria. “Haley was only four and has no clear memory of her.”

  “It must be difficult. Raising a child by yourself.”

  A muscle quivered at his jaw. “As you can see, I’m not doing a very good job.”

  “Don’t say that, Brandon. Haley is a delightful child. You’ve done a terrific job.”

  “I should have paid more attention when she told me she wanted to go back to San Antone. I thought it was a passing phase and she’d get over it. I was wrong.”

  “It’s hard adjusting to a new town, even for an adult. But for a child . . .” She still remembered the difficulty of settling in Tucson. It had been like a foreign country. But then, even Two-Time had seemed strange and new when she’d returned. She still couldn’t believe the changes that had occurred in the two years she was gone.

  He gazed out the window. “What made you take over the Gazette?” he asked. “The newspaper business is tough even for a man.”

  “I like to write,” she said. “And I strongly believe that newspapers keep people connected and can do a lot of good.” She also needed something to do to help fill in the void left by Ralph. “I heard you once wrote for Democratic Statesman? Is that true?” The Democratic Statesman was Austin’s largest and most prestigious newspapers.

  “It’s true.”

  “Most people would give a right arm to work for that paper.”

  His gaze returned to her. “Even you?”

  “I’m not particularly fond of politics,” she admitted.

  “I had no problem with politics. That is, until the editor contracted small pox and called me to his quarantined house. I stood outside the fence some twenty feet away while he yelled that week’s editorial from the window. I had to write down word for word the fool man’s glowing appraisal of a candidate I was totally against.”

  “And did you?” she asked with a wry smile. “Write it word for word.”

  “Yes,” he said, rubbing his upper lip. “Okay, maybe I changed a word or two or three. Naturally, I blamed it on the typesetter not being able to read my poor handwriting.”

  “Naturally,” she said. “So, did you get fired.”

  “Let’s just say it was a mutual parting of the ways. He said ‘You’re fired’ and I said ‘I quit.’”

  She laughed. “That’s about as mutual as you can get.”

  A young girl walked past their seats, a reminder of the reason for their journey. The rapport that had sprung up between them suddenly faded into silence.

  It was late afternoon by the time the train rolled into the San Antonio station. The sun now looked like a golden disc slowly falling to earth. Outside the ash-covered window Josie spotted beggars and pickpockets. A city this size was no place for an unaccompanied child, and she shuddered at the thought.

  Chapter 22

  Dave Woodridge has flown the coop. Mrs. Woodridge is offering a five-dollar award to anyone who finds him and brings him back—and a ten-dollar award to the person who keeps him away.

  —Two-Time Gazette

  The San Antonio city marshal greeted Brandon as they stepped off the train, and the two men shook hands. The marshal was a solidly built man with a crooked nose and what appeared to be a perpetual frown.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Nothing yet, but my men have been alerted.”

  After a brief conversation, Brandon thanked him and the marshal rode away on a black gelding.

  Josie stared at the milling crowd around them. “Now what?”

  “We’ll check the old neighborhood.” Brandon tossed a nod at the street where a mule-driven streetcar waited to take travelers to one of the many hotels in town.

  Boarding, they sat side by side on a stiff horsehair seat. The narrow streets could hardly accommodate all the traffic, and the going was slow. Next to her, Brandon tapped his foot, his impatience growing more evident each time the driver was forced to stop to let a wagon, mule team, or carriage pass. She thought the traffic in Two-Time was bad, but it was nothing compared to here.

  Josie scanned one side of the street and Brandon the other on the outside chance they might spot Haley among the throngs streaming along the wooden sidewalks. It had been years since Josie had stepped foot in San Antonio, and she hardly recognized it.

  “It’s grown so much since I was last here,” she said, and her heart sank. Finding anyone in a city this size was like finding a needle in a haystack.

  “It helped that the city council passed an ordinance exempting new businesses from municipal taxes,” Brandon said. “Nothing brings commerce to town faster than the lack of taxes.”

  He indicated the number of carriage factories, tanneries, breweries, and bookbinders that lined the streets and had sprung up like mushrooms following a spring rain. Gone were the caravans of Mexican carts of the past. The train had nearly put the teamsters out of work, but not the burros. Roan-gray donkeys lumbered ahead of their drovers, their backs piled high with mesquite firewood. Indians and former slaves worked together unloading wagons filled with adobe brick and other building materials.

  The streetcar crossed over a bridge, the iron wheels rumbling over wooden slats. Josie sat forward to scan the grassy shores of the San Antonio River. The river was a good sixty feet wide. Weeping willows dangled long, graceful branches into the river as if testing the temperature of the murky green water.

  “This was Haley’s favorite place to picnic,” Brandon said. “We used to come here all the time.”

  Josie’s heart went out to him. Never had she seen him look so dejected. “We’ll find her.” Sounding more positive than she felt, she covered his hand with her own.

  He studied her, his eyes dark with emotion. “Thank you for coming with me. It means a lot.”

  “Isn’t that what friends are for?” she asked. Referring to him as a friend seemed like an odd thing to say given their history together, but the word slipped out without conscious thought.

  The corner of his lips curved upward. “Don’t let our subscribers hear you say that. It’ll spoil their fun.”

  The streetcar stopped with a jerk, and she pulled her hand away from his to brace herself against the seat in front. The driver yelled out something in German.

  “Let’s get off here,” Brandon said, rising to his feet.

  They walked the short distance to Brandon’s old house, an adobe with a flat roof and blue trim. The current owner was an older gray-haired man. Both he and his wife were hard of hearing, and it took several exchanges and much in the way of hand signs and head shakes to determine they had not seen Haley. The news was the same at Haley’s former school and church.

  The sun dipped lower, and shadows grew long. Josie felt fingers of icy fear wrap around her heart. It would soon be dark. She glanced at Brandon’s grim face and could well guess what was going through his mind.

  By the time they worked their way back to the center of town, the velvet covers of dusk had fallen. All at once the recently installed electric lights burst into brightness. Josie gasped. Never had she seen such an amazing sight.

  “It’s like a hundred little suns,” she whispered in awe.

  “In the future, there won’t be any such thing as darkness,” Brandon said.

  Gazing around in awed wonder, she nodded. Man had effectively conquered the dark of night. What would be next, she wondered? What else would man conquer? The light of day? The moon and stars? The secret longings of the heart?

  Brandon pulled his watch from his vest and thumbed the gold case open. “Let’s get something to eat, and I’ll check you into a hotel.” He slipped his watch back into his pocket.

  She shook her head. “Forget the hotel. I’m not sleeping till I know Haley is safe.”

  He looked about to argue, but instead took her arm as they crossed the road, his touch playing havoc with her senses. “Come on,” he said. “I see a restaurant.”

  It was a German restaurant, and the waiter seated them at a corner table overlooking the sidewalk. Red-and-white checkered tablecloths matched the curtains and added warmth to the wood-paneled walls. High shelves held a collection of beer steins with hinged pewter lids.

  Though neither of them felt much like eating, the bratwurst and braised cabbage was delicious.

  Brandon talked about Haley and the challenges of raising a motherless daughter. She told him about how she and Ralph had wanted a family. Surprised to find herself talking about something so painful and personal, she dropped her gaze to her plate.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’d make a terrific mother.”

  She swallowed the lump that rose to her throat and pushed her plate away.

  As if sensing her reluctance to continue the discussion, he rubbed his forehead and reached for the bill of fare “Soon as I get you settled into a hotel, I’ll mosey on over the marshal’s office and see if there’s any news.”

  “Forget the hotel,” she said. “I told you I’m—”

  “I know, I know. You won’t sleep until we find Haley.” His eyebrow quirked. “Are you always this stubborn?”

  “Only some of the time,” she said.

  While Brandon paid for their meals, Josie’s gaze fell upon an oversized pewter stein decorated with an iron cross, and something occurred to her. She turned to Brandon.

  “Does Haley know where her mother is buried?”

  “Yes, why?” His gaze sharpened. “You think there’s where—”

  “I don’t know, but when I was feeling alone and scared in Arizona I found comfort in sitting by Ralph’s grave.”

  His worried expression turned to a look of hope. “I should have thought of that. Let’s go.”

  ***

  The San Antonio cemetery was located a mile and a half from downtown. It was actually a grid made up of dozens of individual cemeteries spanning several city blocks. Each house of worship had its own cemetery within the network, as did the Masons, Oddfellows, and Confederate veterans.

  Brandon lifted a lit lantern from a hook on the surrounding wall and held it aloft. They followed a series of streets and paths that wound around fences and statues of saints and angels. It was like a maze. At last, they reached a small grave beneath a sprawling oak.

  “How’d you do that?” she asked.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”

  “Find this.” That particular grave wouldn’t be easy to find even during the day.

  “Practice,” he said. He dropped down on one knee and brushed the leaves off the gravestone with his one free hand. The inscription read “Colleen Haley Wade, beloved wife, mother and daughter.”

  Rising he swung the lantern from side to side, but there was no sign of Haley or even that she’d been anywhere near the grave.

  “In the past, whenever we came here, Haley always left a drawing for her mother,” he said.

  Josie cast an anxious glance around them. Outside the circle of lantern light, it was pitch black. Any light from the moon and stars was blocked by the trees.

  “Could Haley find this by herself?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if she tried and couldn’t find the grave?”

  He handed her the lantern. “Hold that.” Cupping his hand around his mouth, he called Haley’s name. Neither moved as they listened for an answer that failed to come.