PART 2 — THE LETTER THAT FOUND HER IN NEBRASKA

Two weeks passed.

Wifred began to believe the nightmare was finally behind her.

She was wrong.

The letter arrived just before sunset.

Ethan had ridden into Kierney for supplies and returned with a handful of mail.

Wifred was sitting on the porch snapping beans while Clara played on a blanket beside her.

Ethan handed her three envelopes.

Two were advertisements.

The third had her name written across the front.

Mrs. Wifred Bower
Blackburn Ranch
Kierney, Nebraska

Her hands went cold.

She knew the handwriting.

Not Charles’s.

Someone else’s.

“Who knows you’re here?” Ethan asked.

“No one.”

His expression hardened.

“Someone does.”

Wifred opened the envelope.

There were only four lines.

Wifred,

He knows you left Chicago. He has been asking questions. Do not come back. Do not trust anyone who claims to be carrying a message from me.

Burn this.

M.

Wifred stared at the final letter.

“M.”

Ethan looked at her.

“Who is M?”

“My sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Margaret.”

“You never mentioned her.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

Wifred folded the letter.

“Because she helped me escape.”

Ethan’s gaze shifted toward Clara.

“Does Charles know?”

“I don’t know.”

The wind moved through the cottonwoods.

Then Wifred suddenly looked at Ethan.

“How did Margaret know where to send it?”

He frowned.

“You didn’t tell her?”

“No.”

“Could someone in Chicago have known about me?”

“I kept your letters hidden.”

“Where?”

Wifred hesitated.

“In Clara’s sewing basket.”

Ethan went still.

“Could Charles have found them?”

“If he had, he would have known before I left.”

“Unless he found them afterward.”

Wifred stared toward the road.

For the first time since arriving in Nebraska, the distance between her and Chicago didn’t feel nearly large enough.

Ethan didn’t panic.

That frightened her more than panic would have.

He didn’t lock the doors.

He didn’t forbid her from leaving.

He didn’t tell her she was helpless.

He simply became more watchful.

He checked the road.

Spoke quietly with neighbors.

Asked questions in Kierney.

And three days later, he returned with information.

Wifred was kneading bread when he entered the kitchen.

“You can’t marry me.”

Her hands stopped.

“I know.”

“No.”

He removed his hat.

“I mean legally.”

She wiped flour from her fingers.

“Your marriage to Charles is still recognized.”

Wifred looked down.

“I know.”

“I asked about divorce.”

Her eyes lifted.

“And?”

“You may be able to petition from Nebraska.”

She stared at him.

“Without going back to Chicago?”

“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”

“Why?”

Ethan looked genuinely confused.

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this?”

He was silent for a moment.

Then said,

“Because you deserve to know your choices.”

“My choices?”

“Yes.”

Wifred laughed bitterly.

“I haven’t had choices in years.”

“Then perhaps it’s time you did.”

Her eyes filled.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

Ethan stepped closer.

“Because when you stepped off that train, you weren’t asking me to rescue you.”

He paused.

“You were asking for a chance.”

Wifred looked at him.

“And I want you to have one.”

Her lips trembled.

Then Clara began to cry upstairs.

Wifred immediately turned toward the stairs.

Ethan smiled faintly.

“Go.”

She hurried away.

He remained in the kitchen.

But his expression changed when he saw something on the table.

A second envelope.

One Wifred hadn’t noticed.

Ethan picked it up.

There was no name.

Only a single sentence.

You should have let her go.

His eyes hardened.

That night, Wifred found Ethan standing on the porch.

“Something happened.”

He didn’t turn.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re looking at the road.”

“I often look at the road.”

“Not like that.”

He finally looked at her.

She saw something in his eyes.

Fear.

Not for himself.

For her.

“What did you find?”

Ethan handed her the envelope.

Wifred read the message.

Her face drained of color.

“Who sent this?”

“I don’t know.”

She looked toward the darkness.

“Charles?”

“Maybe.”

“He wouldn’t come himself.”

“Why?”

“Because Charles never does anything when he can make someone else do it.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened.

Wifred suddenly realized what she had said.

She looked at him.

“You should send me away.”

“No.”

“Ethan—”

“No.”

“If someone is watching this ranch—”

“Then they can watch.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand enough.”

He stepped closer.

“I know you’re afraid.”

“You don’t know how dangerous he is.”

“Then tell me.”

Wifred stared at him.

For months, she had survived by hiding every piece of the truth.

Now someone was asking her to speak.

Not demanding.

Not threatening.

Simply asking.

She whispered,

“Charles doesn’t want me back because he loves me.”

Ethan said nothing.

“He wants me back because I know something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

Ethan frowned.

“You don’t know?”

Wifred shook her head.

“I overheard him talking to a man three nights before I left.”

“What did they say?”

“They were arguing.”

“About what?”

Wifred closed her eyes.

“Money.”

Ethan waited.

“Then Charles said something about Clara.”

The porch suddenly felt colder.

“What about Clara?”

Wifred opened her eyes.

“He said…”

Her voice broke.

“He said the baby wasn’t supposed to survive.”

Ethan went completely still.

Wifred covered her mouth.

“I didn’t understand what he meant. I thought he was angry. I thought he was drunk.”

“And now?”

“Now I think someone wanted Clara dead.”

Silence.

A long, terrible silence.

Then a sound came from the road.

Hoofbeats.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Getting closer.

Ethan moved in front of Wifred.

“Go inside.”

She shook her head.

“No.”

“Wifred.”

“I’ve spent my whole life being told to hide.”

She stepped beside him.

“I won’t hide behind you.”

The rider appeared beyond the fence.

A dark figure beneath the moonlight.

He stopped.

Neither man spoke.

Then the stranger reached into his coat.

Wifred’s heart stopped.

Ethan’s hand moved toward the rifle beside the door.

But the rider didn’t draw a weapon.

He threw something onto the ground.

A small leather packet.

Then he turned his horse.

“Wait!” Ethan shouted.

The rider disappeared into the darkness.

Ethan walked forward cautiously and picked up the packet.

Wifred stood behind him.

“What is it?”

He opened it.

Inside was a photograph.

Wifred took one look and staggered backward.

Her face went white.

It was a photograph of herself.

Holding Clara.

Taken in Chicago.

But Wifred had never seen it before.

And on the back, someone had written:

You ran seven hundred miles.

You still couldn’t hide her.

Ethan looked at Wifred.

Then at the road.

And for the first time, the peaceful little ranch no longer felt like a place where Wifred had escaped to.

It felt like the place where the real danger had finally found her.