Chapter 1 - The Name in the Dust
A woman clawed at the red dirt and whispered, "Please... don't let them find me."
Silas Reed knelt beside her and picked up a silver locket.
Three letters were scratched across its back.
E.M.
Silas knew the woman in his arms was supposed to be dead.
For several seconds, he did not move.
The injured woman barely seemed aware of him. Dust covered her face. One eye had swollen nearly shut. Her cream-colored dress was ripped at the sleeve and stained from the rocks. Her left wrist was badly injured, and every breath appeared to cost her something.
Silas had seen hurt people before.
He had spent enough years in the mountains to recognize what a fall looked like.
This was not simply a fall.
Someone had left her there.
"Ma'am."
Her eyelids fluttered.
"Can you hear me?"
She tried to pull away.
The movement lasted less than a second before pain stopped her.
"No."
"Easy."
"No men."
Silas froze.
Her voice was little more than air.
"No more men."
He slowly removed his hand from her shoulder.
"All right."
She stared at him through one barely open eye.
Silas kept both hands where she could see them.
"My name's Silas Reed. I live north of the pass. I'm not going to hurt you."
Her lips moved.
He leaned closer.
"What?"
"Water."
Silas reached for his canteen.
He poured only a little between her lips. She swallowed too quickly, coughed, then tried to reach for the canteen.
"Slow."
"Please."
"You'll get more."
She shut her eyes.
Silas studied her face again.
Eight years could change a person.
Pain could change one faster.
But there were things time did not erase.
The small crescent-shaped scar beside her right eyebrow.
The narrow bridge of her nose.
And the locket.
Especially the locket.
Silas turned it over in his palm.
E.M.
He remembered a sixteen-year-old girl laughing beside a creek while her father complained that she had ruined another pair of boots.
He remembered that same silver locket flashing in the sun.
He remembered a newspaper notice years later.
MERCER DAUGHTER PRESUMED DEAD.
No body had been recovered.
Only a burned carriage.
Silas looked down at the woman.
"What's your name?"
Her eyes opened.
"Anna."
His stomach tightened.
"Anna what?"
"Vale."
"Who told you that?"
Confusion crossed her face.
"What?"
"Who told you your name was Anna Vale?"
"My husband."
Silas's expression changed.
She noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're lying."
"Probably."
Even hurt, she almost frowned at him.
Silas slipped the locket into his coat pocket.
"We need to get you out of here."
"No."
"You can't stay."
"They'll see."
"Who?"
She looked toward the ridge.
Silas followed her gaze.
Nothing moved among the rocks.
"Who did this to you?"
Her breathing quickened.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I can't..."
She pressed her good hand against her forehead.
Silas saw panic taking hold.
"Don't force it."
"I remember a wagon."
"All right."
"A man shouting."
"That's enough."
"He said I knew too much."
Silas's jaw tightened.
Then she whispered something that made him look at her sharply.
"He called me Eliza."
Silas said nothing.
She stared at him.
"That's what you called me too."
He had not realized he had spoken the name aloud.
"Who is Eliza Mercer?"
Silas looked toward the distant ridge.
"We'll talk when you're safe."
"Tell me."
"Not here."
"Tell me!"
The force of the words made her wince.
Silas lowered his voice.
"Eliza Mercer was the daughter of Samuel Mercer."
She waited.
"He owned one of the largest cattle operations south of Denver."
"Was?"
"He died."
Her face went still.
"How?"
Silas hesitated.
"Fire."
Something flashed behind her eyes.
A house.
Smoke.
A man's voice.
Run, Lizzie.
She gasped.
Silas caught her before she collapsed sideways.
"What happened?"
"I saw..."
"What?"
"Fire."
Silas's pulse quickened.
"What else?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
But that was not true.
For one instant she had seen a man's hand closing around hers.
A gold ring.
A black stone set into it.
Then the memory disappeared.
Silas stood.
"We're leaving."
His horse waited farther up the slope.
Getting her there took nearly twenty minutes.
Silas supported most of her weight, stopping whenever she became dizzy. She refused to complain. That worried him more than screaming would have.
At the horse, she stared at the saddle.
"I can't."
"You don't have to."
Silas lifted her carefully.
She stiffened immediately.
"Easy."
Her good hand caught his coat.
"I'm going to fall."
"No, you aren't."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm not letting go."
For the first time, she looked directly into his eyes.
Something in her expression changed.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But perhaps the possibility of it.
Silas mounted behind her and wrapped one arm securely around her waist.
They rode north.
After half an hour, she spoke.
"Did you really know her?"
"Who?"
"Eliza."
Silas looked down at her.
"Yes."
"How well?"
"Her father bought horses from mine."
"That isn't what I asked."
Silas almost smiled.
That stubbornness felt familiar too.
"We knew each other."
"Friends?"
"Sometimes."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you asked too many questions then too."
She went rigid.
"You said 'you.'"
Silas cursed himself silently.
"Silas."
"Save your strength."
"You believe I'm her."
He did not answer.
"Why?"
Silas reached into his coat and held the locket where she could see it.
"Because I remember this."
Her fingers touched it.
The instant they did, another memory struck.
A woman's hands fastening the chain around her neck.
A warm voice.
Never take it off, Eliza.
Her breath caught.
"Who gave this to me?"
Silas stared at her.
"Your mother."
She pulled her hand away.
"I don't remember my mother."
Silas felt something cold settle inside him.
"How far back can you remember?"
She thought.
"My wedding."
"When?"
"Six years ago."
"What before that?"
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
Silas already knew the answer.
"Nothing?"
Her eyes filled with fear.
"I thought that was normal."
"It isn't."
"My husband said I was sick before we met. He said fever damaged my memory."
"What is your husband's name?"
She hesitated.
"Caleb Vale."
Silas stopped the horse.
"What?"
"Caleb Vale."
Silas knew that name.
Not well.
But enough.
Caleb Vale had worked for Samuel Mercer.
He had been one of the men questioned after the Mercer ranch burned.
And according to the newspaper, Caleb Vale had been among the last people to see Eliza Mercer alive.
Silas looked down at her.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You keep saying that when something is wrong."
"Caleb know where you are?"
Her face lost color.
"He sent the men."
Silas went still.
"You're sure?"
"I heard one of them say his name."
"Why would your husband want you dead?"
She stared toward the mountains.
"Because three nights ago, I remembered something."
"What?"
"A room."
Silas waited.
"A desk. My father was arguing with someone."
"Who?"
"I couldn't see his face."
"What did you hear?"
Her fingers tightened around the saddle horn.
"My father said, 'Those deeds belong to Eliza. You will never have them.'"
Silas felt the pieces beginning to move.
Land.
Inheritance.
A missing daughter.
A convenient husband.
A woman without memories.
"Then what?"
"I told Caleb."
Silas closed his eyes briefly.
"And afterward?"
"He smiled."
Her voice trembled now.
"He told me memories were dangerous things."
Silas turned the horse away from the main trail.
"Where are we going?"
"My cabin."
"Is it safe?"
"No."
She stared at him.
"That's comforting."
"It'll be safer than anywhere Caleb expects."
They reached the cabin near sunset.
It stood beneath a stand of pines, small but solid, with a barn behind it and a spring nearby.
Silas carried her inside.
The moment she saw the bed, embarrassment crossed her face.
"I can walk."
"You've proven otherwise."
"Put me down."
"Gladly."
He lowered her carefully.
She immediately swayed.
Silas caught her.
"That was impressive."
"Don't start."
That time he did smile.
It startled her.
For one strange second, something about that smile felt familiar.
Silas cleaned the cuts on her face and wrapped her wrist as carefully as he could.
"You need a doctor."
"No town."
"Eliza—"
"Don't call me that."
Silas stopped.
She looked away.
"My name is Anna."
"All right."
But neither believed him.
Later, while Silas prepared broth, she sat wrapped in a blanket beside the small table.
"Tell me about Eliza."
Silas continued stirring.
"She hated sewing."
A faint expression crossed her face.
"What?"
"Her mother wanted her to learn. Eliza said she'd rather break horses."
"That sounds foolish."
"She was."
"Anything else?"
"She could outride most men."
"You're making her sound unbearable."
"She was that too."
A tiny smile appeared.
Then vanished.
"Was she happy?"
Silas stopped stirring.
"Once."
"What happened?"
"Her mother died."
The room grew quiet.
"Then her father changed."
"How?"
"Started worrying about the ranch. About people trying to take it. About who he could trust."
"And Eliza?"
"She wanted to leave Colorado."
"Where?"
"California."
Her spoon slipped from her hand.
Silas turned.
She was staring at nothing.
"What?"
"Orange trees."
Silas crossed the room.
"What did you remember?"
"A newspaper picture."
"Of what?"
"California."
Silas's heart pounded.
Eliza Mercer had once kept a California newspaper advertisement pinned beside her bed.
She had told Silas she would see the Pacific before she turned twenty-five.
He had laughed and said Colorado would miss her.
She had answered, Maybe one person will.
He had never told her she was right.
"Silas."
He returned to the present.
"How much did you know me?"
His silence answered.
She looked down.
"Were we..."
"No."
He answered too quickly.
Her eyes lifted.
Silas exhaled.
"We kissed once."
Her mouth parted.
"Once?"
"Twice."
"You seem uncertain."
"Three times."
Despite everything, she almost laughed.
The sound died when something struck the cabin wall.
Silas instantly extinguished the lamp.
"What was that?"
He raised one finger.
Silence.
Then another sound.
A horse outside.
Silas moved to the window without exposing himself.
Someone was near the barn.
Eliza stood.
"Stay down."
"Is it Caleb?"
"I don't know."
Silas took his rifle.
A shadow crossed the clearing.
Then came a voice.
"Reed!"
Silas recognized it.
Elias Boone.
A trapper who occasionally carried mail through the pass.
Silas opened the door only enough to see him.
Elias looked terrified.
"What happened?"
"Men in Fairplay."
"What men?"
"Looking for a woman."
Eliza appeared behind Silas.
Elias saw her.
His face drained white.
"Dear God."
"You know her?"
Elias backed away.
"No."
"You looked like you did."
"I don't want trouble."
Silas grabbed his arm.
"What did they say?"
Elias swallowed.
"They're offering two hundred dollars."
"For what?"
"For information."
"About her?"
Elias nodded.
"Who's paying?"
"A man from Denver."
"Name."
Elias looked at Eliza again.
"Caleb Vale."
Eliza closed her eyes.
Silas released Elias.
"Anything else?"
"Yeah."
"What?"
"They've got posters."
Silas frowned.
"Wanted posters."
"For her?"
Elias nodded.
"What charge?"
"Murder."
Eliza stared at him.
"Whose murder?"
Elias looked as if he wished he had never ridden there.
"Caleb Vale's."
No one spoke.
Eliza whispered, "But Caleb was alive yesterday."
Elias reached slowly into his coat.
"I know."
He unfolded the poster.
Silas took it.
Eliza's face was printed beneath the word WANTED.
But the name underneath was not Anna Vale.
It was ELIZA MERCER.
Silas read the final line.
His blood went cold.
The murder had supposedly happened three days ago.
And there was already a witness.
Silas looked at the signature.
He knew the name.
Someone knocked on the cabin door.
Three slow knocks.
Then a man's voice came from outside.
"Eliza? I know you're in there."
She stopped breathing.
Silas raised his rifle.
May you like
The door handle began to turn.
And the man outside whispered, "Your husband sent me."
