He looked down at the arm he leaned on. He shouldn’t do it. It felt wrong . . . Father would say it was wrong. But he opened his mouth anyway. “Remind me again of your middle name? I can’t remember precisely. Was it Jane? Or June?”
“Yes, you’re correct.” She didn’t bother sayingwhichname was the right one.
And that was because Daisy’s middle name was Sarah.
Matthew sat up, blood pounding in his ears. This woman beside him—the one he’d risked his life for—wasn’t Daisy at all.
“Are you all right?” she asked, sitting up also.
Fear for the actual Daisy Timperman quickly doused his fury at being deceived. Where was she? What had happened to her?
“Who are you?” he finally asked as a million scenarios ran through his mind. “And where is the real Daisy Timperman?”
Chapter Seven
SOPHIA DUG HER FINGERSinto the wool of Mr. Canton’s coat. Her mind raced backward, picking apart every word she said—and finding a hundred different ways she’d given away the truth.
It’s for the best. She repeated the words in her head and her grip loosened on the coat. She’d planned to tell him anyway . . . at some point. Swallowing, she held the glare he leveled at her. “I don’t know where the real Miss Timperman is. I’ve never met her.”
At that, he stood.
She scrambled up as he began to pace.
“Then how did you come to take her name? And whoareyou?” He threw the words at her as if they might hurt.
He likely did hurt, she realized. The woman he’d waited for wasn’t here. She pressed her lips together. She hated to tell him the truth—it would only serve to hurt him more. But she couldn’t abide any more lies.
The truth it would be, and she’d tell it as gently as she could.
“My name is Sophia Zane.” She started softly, so quiet he had to stop pacing to hear her. “I’m from Kansas City. I arrived at the wagons the night before they were due to leave, ready to pay my way to ride along with a decent family. I . . . I needed to leave as soon as possible.” Perhaps she’d tell him more about Mr. Durham later, if he didn’t leave her here alone in the desert.
“The wagon master assumed I was Miss Timperman,” Sophia continued. “Apparently she was the only person who hadn’t arrived yet and they’d begun to think she wasn’t coming. I ought to have corrected him, I know that. But it meant not having to pay, and if I could save that money to start anew somewhere out West, I’d be better off for it. So I went along with his assumption. If the real Miss Timperman had arrived, I would have stepped aside and paid to ride with another family. But she . . . she . . .”
What was the best way to tell a man as good and kindhearted as Mr. Canton that his intended had never come?
“She changed her mind.” The words he said were devoid of emotion, as if he had to strip away his feelings in order to get them out of his mouth.
