he said absently.
“Pardon me?”
“California.”
Her eyes lit up. “San Francisco?”
He smiled. Close enough. “Yep.”
She abandoned the beans, a wistful look on her face as she brought out a crock of butter and a pan wrapped in a white cloth. “I’ll be going there soon. I bet they have all kinds of nice shops. A person wouldn’t even need a catalog. They could go right downtown and pick out anything they wanted.”
“You going there with your father?”
Her face pinched into a brief frown before she turned away again. “My sister Mary lives there.”
“They have more than nice shops. You ever seen the ocean, Maggie?”
She shook her head and slowly looked at him.
“So big and blue, stretches as far as the eye can see. Makes you think anything is possible.” He recalled suddenly how Masi used to utter that same phrase as they sat and watched an unusually beautiful sunset together, or had happened upon a spotted fawn being born in the tall grass.
A smile tugged at Maggie’s lips. “I’ve seen pictures. But I’d like very much to see the ocean for myself.” Once she gave in to the smile, her face transformed. Her eyes sparkled and the pink tinge of excitement in her cheeks caught him off guard. She was actually very pretty.
Pictures.
Immediately the word echoed in his brain like a sound bouncing off canyon walls.
How could he have forgotten? His gaze ran down Maggie’s old-fashioned dress to her high-top shoes, and he drew back his jacket and reached into the pocket. What if the same thing that happened to him had happened to the Winslow sisters? It was a long shot, or maybe not, considering how they were dressed in the photos.
“I want to show you something,” he said, getting to his feet.
Maggie scurried backward until she was stopped by the shelving where she kept her pots. The smile was gone from her face, her skin suddenly so pale her freckles stood out. Her gaze was leveled on his chest.
Bewildered, he slowly withdrew the photographs and looked to see what had suddenly frightened her. The gun. He sighed. As much as he hated her jumping every time she caught a glimpse of it, he wasn’t disarming himself.
“I just want to show you these pictures,” he said quietly. “They’re of the two missing women.”
She put a shaky hand to her throat, briefly closed her eyes and nodded. They each took a couple of tentative steps toward the other. She stopped first and held out her hand for the photos. He passed them to her, and noticed what great pain she took trying to keep from brushing his fingers. Maybe she thought touching an Indian would somehow be infectious.
He swiftly pushed aside the unbidden thought. Being sensitive over old wounds wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
“You recognize either of them?”
She stared hard at the grainy photo of the two women with their arms linked. “I think this one,” she said slowly, pointing to Reese Winslow. “But it’s hard to tell.”
Cord’s pulse leaped. “Look at the second picture. The one of her alone.”
She went to the next photo. “Yes, the likeness is strong. She’s a healer, isn’t she?”
This time his heart did everything but explode from his chest. He nodded. “In her time, she’s a doctor.”
Maggie’s puzzled gaze shot up to his. “Her time?”
God, was he seriously starting to believe that…Masi’s voice cut into his thoughts. Anything is possible. He couldn’t go there. Not now. “Was it in town where you saw her? When?”
“She was in town for a while, but I didn’t actually see her with my own eyes.” Maggie concentrated on the photo, worrying her lower lip. “I saw a sketch of her on Wanted posters outside the jail and the general store.”
“A Wanted poster?”
She shrugged a slim shoulder and tried to return the photo. “Maybe I’m wrong.”
“Take another look. Why was the woman wanted?”
She studied Reese’s photo again. “She’s beautiful,” she said with the same wistfulness he’d seen earlier. “People said that about her, too. The ones who’d seen her…they said that she was too pretty and refined to be a—” Maggie cut herself short, her eyes as big as dinner plates when she looked up at him.
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