Chapter Nineteen
INSIDE THE HOTEL, WILLAfelt as if she were holding in a mountain of emotions, all on the verge of falling apart. She managed to nod a good evening to the clerk at the desk. The candles lighting the small tree in the corner of the entry blurred as the tears forced their way to her eyes. All of that hoping and dreaming that she would be able to stay in Creede for Christmas, and it had all been for nothing. If Papa hadn’t fallen sick, they would have moved on. Everything would have been as it was.
She’d be living a lie.
Outside Papa’s room, Willa leaned against the door, wiping the tears that fell. How could she want to go back to that? And yet how could she not? It made no sense. She’d been hanging on to one last shred of hope that Papa had been truthful with her, in his own way, but now Nick had changed all of that.
Willa balled up her fists. How dare he make this decision for her? She would never forget his expression when she turned and left him outside. He looked as if she’d struck him right across the face. Yet what did he expect? That she’d fling her arms about him in gratitude for crumbling the last of what she believed in? Papa wasn’t a doctor, not in the accepted sense of the word, his medicines were nothing but herbs and whiskey . . . what else didn’t she know?
She stood up straight, her eyes dry. She found the key to Papa’s room and quietly unlocked the door. Inside, it was dark, and he slept soundly. She hoped that meant he was improving. But right now, she was grateful he was asleep, so she could accomplish what she’d come in here to do.
On silent feet, she made her way to the desk, where Papa’s small case sat. It was where he kept everything of importance—money, documents, the deed to the land they still owned in Missouri. Willa flipped the latches on the case, wincing at the snapping sound they made in the silence. At least the case itself opened without a sound.
Inside, Papa’s money sat neatly in a clip. Below that were a number of documents. Willa moved the money clip and then lifted the corners of a few of the papers, not entirely sure what she was searching for. Reassurance, perhaps, that not everything in her life was a lie. The topmost paper was a receipt for the purchase of one of their horses. Below that, the deed for the land in Missouri. Then there were a few papers that looked like agreements Papa had made with Leroy and Amos, detailing their payment as part of the show. Each document made her relax just a tiny bit, as everything she expected was contained in these papers.
A slight shuffling from the bed made Willa freeze, her hand still on the papers in the case. She glanced back at Papa. His eyes remained closed, and his breathing fell even again after a few seconds. Willa expelled a breath. She shouldn’t be doing this, going through his private things, and yet she couldn’t stop.
The next document was a certificate of some sort. Willa lifted the papers that lay in front of it in order to read the writing. The title, at the very top, readCertificate of Marriagein official, fanciful letters. Willa smiled, that slight yearning she always felt in her heart for her mother, floating to the surface yet again. This must be her parents’ marriage license. She let her eyes trace the wording on the page.
Certificate of Marriage
State of Missouri
On this 14th day of March in the year of our Lord Eighteen Hundred and Seventy comes
George Henry Rogers
and
Petra Ann Bailey
to be joined in marriage.
The certificate went on to detail both the bride and groom’s parents’ names and other information, but Willa stopped reading. Her eyes shot back up to her father’s name.George Henry Rogers.
Rogers.
She dropped the papers as if they were made of fire and whipped around to face her father, still asleep in bed. His name wasn’t Rousseau.Hername wasn’t Rousseau.
Her father was the one person in the world she thought she could trust completely. But he’d never been honest with her, it appeared. And Nick . . . She’d told him she didn’t want to know about the elixir, and he’d snuck into their wagons and found out anyway. His betrayal felt as if she’d lost something she never even knew she wanted. What did it matter anyway, though? Papa would have been taking them from Creede soon enough. If she went with him.
But where would she go if she didn’t? What would she do if he didn’t get better?
She dropped her face into her hands. She was alone in the world, and on Christmas Eve. Just as she’d always feared. Yet no tears came. It was as if all her emotions had already bled dry, and all that was left was a shell of her former self. A woman who spoke and walked and ate and slept, but trusted no one and felt nothing inside.
A knock came at the door. Willa straightened her shoulders. It was going on nine o’clock, too late for visitors. She smoothed her hair, thinking it was most likely Amos or Leroy, come to check on Papa. Or perhaps Nick, here to apologize.
