Page 109 of The Formation of Us

Where was his sense of purpose?

Where was the conviction he always felt during these visits? Where was the man who wouldn’t compromise his integrity? Or his badge?

He was losing his moral compass. Decisions that used to be black and white were all tangled up with Faith’s idea of useful or not useful. Nothing was clear anymore. Laws felt too harsh, and rules seemed too rigid in judging some cases fairly. Like Dahlia’s situation. Duke had seen her aim the gun and pull the trigger. But there was truth in what she said: Levens would have killed Dahlia without a second thought, and he would have come back to kill Anna the first chance he got. It was so mixed up in Duke’s head, he couldn’t think about it without tying his gut in a knot.

Eight days of traveling had taken its toll on his shoulder and his mind. All he wanted was a good soak in the bathhouse and a few hours alone with Faith.

He missed her. He’d left too much unsaid between them because he’d been shocked into a state of outrage he’d never before known. From the minute he met Faith, each step that should have taken him due north had been a few degrees off course. Now, without true direction, he couldn’t navigate his way through the day, much less his life.

Everything was in shambles with his brothers because of his lack of attention. He’d strayed off course with them as well.

The thunder of horse hooves racing up behind him made Duke reach for his gun. He was traveling alone, moving through towns like a drifter, crossing paths with all sorts of characters. If anything happened to him out here before he could apologize to his brothers for putting their reputations at risk, and offer Faith the forgiveness she sought, they would never know how deeply he regretted his actions.

He slowed his mare and drew his revolver.

“Sheriff Grayson!” He turned to see a man on horseback waving his arm. “A message for you!” he shouted.

Duke holstered his revolver and reined in his horse. There was trouble, but not from the man stopping beside him.

“Sam Wade said we’d find you heading out of Westfield.”

Duke had wired Wade shortly before leaving to tell him he was heading home, but the wire was from Faith.

Cora missing.

Hurry!

Missing? All Duke could think about was the creek running high and hard from two weeks of heavy rain.

“Any return message, Sheriff?”

“No.” With a tug on the reins, Duke wheeled his horse away, and kicked the big mare into a run. It didn’t matter how or where or why his daughter was missing, it only mattered that she was.

His heart pounded with each mile he covered. The mare was sleek and fit, and Duke wanted to push her harder and faster, to eat up the miles between him and home. But he reined in his panic and alternated the mare’s pace between a trot and a gallop.

Each minute that ticked by drove his anxiety higher, and when an hour passed, his chest was so tight it hurt. Another twenty minutes saw him trotting past the Common and down Water Street. When he finally dismounted in his front yard, he was praying Cora had been found and was safe in the house with Faith.

But Faith met him in the foyer, her face ashen. “Judge Stone took Cora.”

Stone? “The man listed in your mother’s guestbook?” The man Duke had sent a letter to? “Do you know him?”

“Yes.”

“Why would he take Cora?”

“Because you sent him a letter! You told him where to find us!”

She was acting crazy, and it was making him crazy. “What are you talking about? Why would my letter make Stone come and take Cora?”

“Because he’s Cora’s father.”

As if a boulder struck his chest, Duke’s breath whooshed out and he stumbled back a step. “How can that be?” Stone had visited Rose. Faith said she didn’t work upstairs. Nothing was making sense. “Did you and Stone . . . You said you were a widow”

The desolate look in her eyes scared him. “I’m not a widow,” she whispered.

Duke stood perfectly still, his world crumbling around him.

“The judge was my mother’s guest. And Cora was my mother’s last child.”