PART 2 — THE FACE THE WHOLE TOWN HAD BEEN AFRAID TO SEE

Cyrus Creed loosened the knot slowly.

The burlap sack slipped from Josephine’s head and fell onto the wooden floor.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Josephine kept her eyes closed. Her hands gripped the edge of the table so тιԍнтly that her knuckles turned white.

She knew what came next.

The gasp.

The silence.

The familiar sound of someone stepping backward.

She had heard them all before.

“Please,” she whispered. “If you cannot bear to look at me, just tell me. I have grown tired of people pretending.”

Cyrus remained still.

Then he pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down.

“Open your eyes, Josephine.”

She slowly obeyed.

Her face was pale from the cold, with a delicate nose, tired eyes, and a faint scar running from her left temple toward her cheek. Several smaller scars marked her jaw and chin. One side of her face had been badly burned years earlier, leaving the skin uneven and тιԍнт.

But it wasn’t the scars that made Cyrus stare.

It was the expression in her eyes.

She wasn’t waiting to be admired.

She was waiting to be abandoned.

Cyrus reached for the coffee pot.

“Your coffee’s getting cold.”

Josephine blinked.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“What else should I say?”

“You haven’t even asked what happened.”

“Because you haven’t offered to tell me.”

She lowered her gaze.

“My father used to say I was beautiful,” she whispered. “Before the fire.”

Cyrus poured another cup.

“Your father sounds like a sensible man.”

A small, disbelieving laugh escaped her.

“He died three years ago. My mother died before that. After the fire, I lived with my aunt in St. Louis. She said I embarrᴀssed her whenever we went outside. She made me cover my face.”

Cyrus listened without interrupting.

“When the marriage arrangement came, I thought perhaps someone might finally want me. But when Mr. Higgins saw my face, he called me a monster. He told everyone I had deceived him.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then he was the liar.”

Josephine looked up.

Cyrus stood and placed another piece of wood on the fire.

“You can sleep in the bedroom. I’ll take the chair.”

“But you’re the one who bought me.”

His expression changed.

“I paid Cooper to get him away from you. That paper means nothing to me.”

He retrieved the bill of sale, tore it in half, and dropped the pieces into the fireplace.

Josephine watched the paper curl into black ash.

For the first time in months, she felt something unfamiliar.

Relief.

The next morning, Josephine woke to the smell of fresh bread.

She stepped into the kitchen wearing a borrowed wool dress and found Cyrus preparing breakfast.

He glanced at her uncovered face.

“There’s a washbasin behind the door. Water’s warm.”

She hesitated.

“Do you want me to cover myself before we eat?”

Cyrus put down the knife.

“No.”

The answer was so simple that it hurt.

After breakfast, he showed her the cabin.

There was a small pantry, a wood shed, a stable, and a narrow room filled with books and maps. Outside, the mountains stretched beneath a blanket of snow.

“This is where you live alone?” she asked.

“Mostly.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely?”

Cyrus looked toward the distant ridge.

“Loneliness is quieter than disappointment.”

Josephine understood that sentence more than she wanted to.

Later, while Cyrus repaired a broken fence, she began cleaning the cabin. Behind a stack of folded blankets, she discovered a small wooden box.

It was old, polished, and locked.

A name had been carved into its lid.

ELIZABETH CREED.

“Who is Elizabeth?” she asked when Cyrus returned.

His hands stopped moving.

“My younger sister.”

“Where is she?”

“Gone.”

He took the box from her and placed it on the highest shelf.

Josephine noticed that he did not say ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.

That evening, a storm rolled down the mountain.

Cyrus barred the door and checked the shutters. Josephine was setting bowls on the table when three hard knocks sounded outside.

Cyrus reached for his coat.

“Stay here.”

He opened the door only a few inches.

A stranger stood on the porch, covered in snow.

“Creed?”

“Who wants to know?”

The stranger removed his hat.

“Name’s Walter Finch. I came from Orofino.”

Cyrus’s expression darkened.

“What happened?”

Finch glanced past him.

“Cooper’s been telling people you stole that woman.”

“I paid her fare.”

“He says she’s still legally promised to Higgins. And Higgins has gone to the sheriff.”

Cyrus stepped onto the porch.

“Then Higgins can explain his broken contract to the sheriff.”

Finch shook his head.

“There’s more. Cooper says the woman isn’t Josephine Wright at all.”

Josephine froze.

Finch pulled a folded notice from his coat.

“He claims she’s the missing daughter of a wealthy family back east. Says there’s a reward for anyone who returns her.”

Cyrus took the paper.

At the bottom was a name Josephine hadn’t heard in years.

EDWARD WRIGHT.

Her father’s name.

She stepped toward the doorway.

“That’s impossible.”

Finch looked at her.

“Miss, the notice says your father left behind a substantial estate. It also says whoever identifies you can claim five hundred dollars.”

Josephine stared at the paper.

“My father had no estate. He died with debts.”

Cyrus studied the notice.

“Who issued it?”

Finch pointed to the bottom.

“Thaddeus Cooper.”

A cold silence settled over the cabin.

Cyrus folded the paper.

“Then Cooper knows something he doesn’t want us to discover.”

Josephine’s voice trembled.

“What could he possibly want from me?”

Cyrus looked toward the locked wooden box on the shelf.

“I don’t know yet.”

But that night, after Josephine had gone to bed, Cyrus unlocked the box.

Inside lay a faded pH๏τograph of a young woman.

The woman had Josephine’s eyes.

And beneath the pH๏τograph was a letter addressed to Cyrus’s sister.

Elizabeth,

If anything happens to me, find Edward Wright’s daughter. She is the only person who can prove what happened at Black Hollow.

Cyrus read the final sentence twice.

Do not trust the man who sold her.

Then he heard a floorboard creak behind him.

Josephine stood in the doorway.

“Cyrus,” she whispered, “why does my father’s name appear in your sister’s letters?”

He turned.

Before he could answer, someone outside fired a gun.

The window shattered.

And a voice from the darkness shouted:

“Send the girl out, Creed! We know who she really is!”