Chapter One

      Bella Creek, Montana, summer 1891

      What was she doing sitting on the ground, her head throbbing? She slowly turned to take in her surroundings. The stagecoach lay on its side, one wheel broken in half.

      “Ma’am?”

      Blinking away the pain behind her eyes, she turned toward the voice. A man with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes faced her from a few feet away. A gray cowboy hat had been pushed back, allowing her to see his strong features clearly. He hunkered down on his haunches, his look gentle and patient, making her feel safe even though he was a stranger and she in an awkward position. Or perhaps it was the silver star on his chest that made her feel safe.

      “Do you recall what happened? Who did this?” His voice eased through her thoughts.

      “There were three men chasing us. They yelled at the driver to stop and shot at him. Then we went over the edge of the cliff.” Her voice wobbled as she recalled the terror.

      “I’m sorry to question you when you’re injured, but if you can tell me anything about the men, it would help.”

      She pressed her hands to her face, drew in a deep breath and let her mind fill with the terrifying pictures of the robbery and accident. “Three of them, like I said. With their faces covered.” She squinted. “One man wore a pair of boots with silver tips.”

      “Very good. That will be useful in identifying them.”

      She screwed up her face. “I wish I could remember more.” She grimaced.

      “Take it easy. You and the boy are okay.”

      At the man’s words, she shifted her gaze slowly and painfully to her other side.

      “Mikey?” Poor little boy looked terrified. As well he should. She shuddered as she recalled the horror of that chase, the gunshots making her wince and the scream that tore from her throat when the stagecoach started to tumble. Her heart went to the child and she held out her hand.

      With a muffled cry he scuttled to her side and pressed tight to her.

      “Ma’am?”

      She lifted her gaze to the man waiting patiently.

      “I’m the sheriff, Jesse Hill. I’ll see that you get safely to your destination.”

      She squinted as she tried to recall the details of her trip. Obviously she’d been going somewhere to be on the stage, but at the moment, she couldn’t recall her plans.

      The sheriff kept his steady gaze on her. “What’s your name?”

      “Emily—” There had to be more to it than that. Emily what? But she couldn’t remember.

      “Emily?” His voice, deep and kind, prodded her for more information.

      “It’s...it’s...” Despite the pain the movement brought, she shook her head. “I can’t remember. I don’t know my last name.” Panic clawed at her throat. She scrambled to her feet and swayed. “Oh, my head.” She pressed her palms to her temples, felt a lump on the right side and moaned.

      Sheriff Jesse Hill had also risen and he caught her elbow. “Steady, now. You’re hurt. Why don’t you sit down again until you feel better?”

      “I can’t.” She clung to his hand to keep from falling and breathed deeply to still the rolling of her stomach. “I must find my belongings. They’ll have my name on them.”

      “Miss Emily, everything is gone.” His words drained the strength from her.

      “Gone.” She sank to the ground and stared at Mikey. How did she know the little boy’s name? Who was he?

      “Is this your son?” The sheriff squatted down beside her. “The two of you were the only passengers on the stagecoach.”

      She looked at the little boy, his blue eyes wide with shock, his blond hair tousled. She shook her head, and then turned back to the sheriff. “I don’t remember.” The words whispered from her as if she couldn’t bear to hear them aloud. Surely she would know if she had a child. If she was married. She looked at her hand. No ring. She squinted. No depression to indicate she’d recently worn one.

      The sheriff spoke to Mikey. “What’s your name, son?”

      Mikey patted his tummy. “I Mikey.”

      “Do you have another name?” The sheriff spoke softly.

      Emily could hardly breathe as she waited for the child to reply, hoping the information would enable her to remember something...anything.

      “I Mikey.”

      She pressed her lips together and blinked back disappointment.

      Sheriff Hill chuckled. “Hi, Mikey. Pleased to meet you. How old are you?”

      He held up two fingers. “’Most...” He struggled to get a third finger up