Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Silas positioned himself beside the door.
"Name."
"Dr. Nathan Cole."
Eliza grabbed his sleeve.
"I know him."
"Trust him?"
Her expression answered.
Not completely.
Silas opened the door with his rifle ready.
Nathan Cole stood outside with both hands raised. He was near fifty, gray beginning at his temples, carrying a doctor's bag.
"That thing necessary?"
"Depends."
Nathan saw Eliza.
Whatever answer he had prepared disappeared.
"Anna."
She recoiled.
Silas noticed.
Nathan noticed too.
"Who sent you?" Silas asked.
"Nobody."
"Wrong answer."
Nathan slowly lowered his hands.
"I treated her for six years."
"Then you know Caleb Vale."
"Yes."
"You know she's Eliza Mercer?"
Nathan's face changed.
That was enough.
Silas stepped forward.
"You knew."
Nathan said nothing.
Eliza stared at him.
"You knew?"
"Anna—"
"Don't."
Her voice was quiet.
That made it worse.
"You knew my real name."
Nathan looked suddenly older.
"Yes."
The word struck harder than a shout.
Eliza sank into a chair.
"For how long?"
"From the beginning."
Silas closed the door.
Nathan's eyes went to him.
"How much have you told her?"
"Enough to know someone tried to erase her."
Nathan set down his bag.
"It wasn't supposed to happen this way."
Eliza laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"What way was it supposed to happen?"
Nathan pulled out a chair but remained standing.
"Six years ago Caleb brought you to my office."
"After the fever?"
"There was no fever."
Her fingers tightened.
Nathan continued.
"You had suffered a serious head injury."
Silas's jaw flexed.
"How?"
"I wasn't told."
"You didn't ask?"
"I asked."
"And?"
"Caleb paid me not to ask again."
Eliza stared at him.
Nathan could not meet her eyes.
"How much?"
"Eliza—"
"How much did my life cost?"
"Three hundred dollars."
Silas turned away before anger got the better of him.
Eliza simply nodded.
"Three hundred."
Nathan's voice cracked.
"I was in debt. My wife was sick. I told myself Caleb was protecting you."
"You told me my name was Anna."
"Yes."
"You told me I had no family."
"Yes."
"You watched me marry him."
Nathan closed his eyes.
"Yes."
Eliza stood.
Silas moved closer in case she became unsteady.
She didn't.
For the first time since he found her, she seemed entirely steady.
"Get out."
Nathan looked at her.
"I came because you're in danger."
"I've been in danger for six years."
"Caleb isn't dead."
Silas turned.
"The poster says otherwise."
"The poster is a trap."
Nathan opened his bag and removed an envelope.
"I saw Caleb yesterday."
Eliza's face tightened.
"Where?"
"Denver."
Nathan handed the envelope to Silas.
Inside was a death certificate.
Caleb Vale.
Cause of death: gunshot wound.
Signed by Dr. Nathan Cole.
Silas looked at him.
"You certified a living man dead."
Nathan nodded.
"Why?"
"Because Caleb made me."
"Why would he want to be legally dead?"
Nathan looked at Eliza.
"Because a dead husband can't be questioned after his wife is hanged for murdering him."
The room went silent.
Eliza sat again.
Silas read the document.
"Who's behind the warrant?"
"Sheriff Harlan Pike."
Silas knew Pike.
And he disliked what that meant.
Pike was no fool.
If he was involved, this was larger than Caleb.
Nathan continued.
"Caleb intends to prove Anna Vale is actually Eliza Mercer."
"Why now?" Silas asked.
"Because the Mercer estate has been held in trust."
Eliza looked up.
Nathan nodded.
"Samuel Mercer left everything to his daughter. If she was dead, the land passed through a complicated chain of claims. Caleb couldn't touch it."
"But if I'm alive?"
"You can."
"And if I'm convicted of murder?"
Nathan hesitated.
"As your husband, Caleb would normally inherit."
"But he's supposedly dead."
"His estate would inherit."
Silas understood.
"And whoever controls Caleb's estate controls hers."
Nathan nodded.
"Exactly."
"Who?"
Nathan looked toward the window.
"That's what Caleb never told me."
Eliza touched her locket.
"What happened the night my father died?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"No."
"You lied for six years."
Nathan flinched.
"I deserve that."
Silas studied him.
"Why help now?"
Nathan's eyes filled with shame.
"Because Caleb ordered me to sign one more paper."
"What paper?"
"A statement declaring you mentally unstable."
Eliza went pale.
Nathan continued.
"He wanted it dated six years ago. It would claim you confessed to killing your father."
Silas stepped toward him.
"And you signed?"
"No."
"Why draw the line now?"
Nathan looked at Eliza.
"Because my wife died four years ago."
Eliza's anger faltered.
Nathan swallowed.
"Everything I told myself I was protecting is gone. All that's left is what I did."
He removed another envelope.
"This is the original medical record from the night Caleb brought you to me."
Eliza opened it.
Patient: Unknown female, approximately twenty-two.
Head trauma.
Possible memory impairment.
Bruising around wrists.
Repeatedly asks for "Father."
Repeatedly says: "Caleb knows."
Eliza's hands trembled.
"Caleb knows."
Nathan nodded.
"You said it for hours."
"What did he know?"
"I don't know."
Silas crouched beside her.
"Don't push yourself."
She looked at him.
"Everyone keeps deciding what I should know."
"Fair point."
She stood.
"I want all of it."
Nathan spent the next hour explaining everything he remembered.
Caleb had arrived after midnight with Eliza unconscious in a wagon.
He claimed he found her after a robbery.
Two days later, when she woke, she remembered almost nothing.
Caleb became attentive.
Patient.
Protective.
He told her they had been engaged.
They had not.
He invented relatives who had supposedly died.
He invented a childhood in Kansas.
He built Anna Vale one lie at a time.
Within months, he married her.
"Why didn't anyone recognize me?" Eliza asked.
"You lived outside Denver," Nathan said. "Caleb kept you isolated. And the papers had already declared Eliza Mercer dead."
Silas stared into the fire.
"Not everyone believed it."
Eliza looked at him.
"You didn't?"
"No."
"Why didn't you search?"
"I did."
Her expression changed.
"For how long?"
"Two years."
Nathan quietly looked away.
Silas continued.
"I followed rumors from Colorado Springs to Santa Fe. Nothing."
"You gave up."
"Yes."
The honesty hurt more than an excuse.
Silas met her eyes.
"I thought you were dead."
Eliza looked away.
Later, Nathan reset her wrist and gave Silas instructions for caring for her injuries.
Before leaving, he said, "There's one more thing."
Silas waited.
Nathan removed a folded page.
"A woman visited my office after Caleb brought Eliza."
"Who?"
"She said she was Eliza's aunt."
Eliza frowned.
"My aunt?"
"Rebecca Mercer."
Silas knew the name.
Samuel's younger sister.
"Rebecca disappeared after the fire," he said.
Nathan nodded.
"She asked if I'd treated a young woman matching Eliza's description."
"What did you tell her?" Eliza asked.
Nathan looked ashamed again.
"Nothing."
"Because Caleb paid you."
"Yes."
"Where is Rebecca now?"
"I don't know."
Silas took the page.
It contained an address in Leadville.
"She gave me that."
"Six years ago?"
Nathan nodded.
"Could be useless."
"Could be."
After Nathan left, Silas barred the door.
Eliza stood beside the fire.
"You searched for me."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Silas did not answer.
"Three kisses?"
He looked at her.
She almost smiled.
"Apparently they were memorable."
"They were."
That answer surprised them both.
Eliza's smile disappeared.
"I'm married."
"To a man who tried to have you killed."
"Still married."
"Technically, according to the government, he's dead."
She gave him a look.
Silas lifted both hands.
"Too soon."
"Very."
They slept little.
Before dawn, Silas found fresh hoofprints near the cabin.
Three horses.
Someone had watched the house during the night.
He decided they would leave for Leadville.
Elias supplied another horse and promised to misdirect anyone asking questions.
Nathan had already disappeared toward Denver.
By midday, Silas and Eliza were riding through the high country.
Her wrist was bound against her chest.
Her strength was returning.
So were fragments of memory.
A piano.
Her father's study.
A woman named Rebecca.
And Silas.
That one came unexpectedly.
They stopped beside a creek.
Silas handed her water.
When their fingers touched, she saw herself at seventeen, standing beside another creek.
Silas was younger.
Clean-shaven.
Angry.
"Say it again," the young Eliza had challenged.
"You'll come back."
"Maybe I won't."
"You will."
"Why?"
Young Silas had kissed her.
The memory vanished.
Eliza nearly dropped the canteen.
Silas caught it.
"What?"
"You kissed me here."
He looked around.
Then at her.
"Not here."
"Somewhere like this."
He understood.
"A creek near your father's ranch."
"You said I'd come back."
Silas was silent.
"I remembered."
"Good."
"Is it?"
"Every piece belongs to you."
She studied him.
"What if I don't like the woman I was?"
"Then don't become her."
That stayed with her.
By evening they reached the outskirts of Leadville.
Rebecca's address led to a narrow boardinghouse.
The landlady, Mrs. Doyle, remembered her.
"Rebecca Mercer?"
Eliza leaned forward.
"Yes."
Mrs. Doyle stared at Eliza's face.
Then crossed herself.
"You shouldn't be here."
"Why?"
"Because Rebecca said if a woman who looked like you ever came asking, I was to send her away."
Eliza's heart sank.
"Did she say why?"
Mrs. Doyle went upstairs.
She returned carrying a small wooden box.
"She left this."
The box had been locked for six years.
Silas broke the rusted clasp.
Inside lay a photograph.
A young Eliza stood beside Samuel Mercer.
Beside them stood Caleb Vale.
And another man.
Silas recognized him immediately.
Sheriff Harlan Pike.
On the back, Rebecca had written a sentence.
Eliza read it aloud.
"The man who ordered Samuel's death is in this photograph."
She looked at Silas.
"Which man?"
Mrs. Doyle whispered, "There's more."
She lifted the false bottom of the box.
Underneath was a sealed letter.
It was addressed to Eliza.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
My darling niece,
If you are reading this, then they failed to kill you.
Do not trust Caleb Vale.
Do not trust Harlan Pike.
And above all, do not trust the man who calls himself—
A gunshot shattered the window.
The letter flew from Eliza's hands.
Silas dragged her to the floor.
May you like
Boots thundered onto the porch.
Then someone kicked open the front door.
