In his haste to reach Eliza’s suite on the fourth floor of the hotel, Wyatt took the stairs two at a time. He found the room empty. On the chair beside the bed, two strips of cloth that might have bound her hands and feet or perhaps served as a gag had been discarded.

Or maybe they weren’t used for any of those things. He gave the room a thorough going-over, then went downstairs to find a clerk.

“Yes, sir, she has checked out,” the clerk told him.

“Alone or with someone?” he asked.

“I believe the gentleman who accompanied her was her husband. I heard him tell the bellhop he needed transportation to the train station.”

Racing out of the hotel lobby, Wyatt weaved around slow-moving guests and dodged folks who didn’t have the good sense to get out of the way. He got to the station faster than he thought possible but not fast enough to stop the train headed for Austin with Ben and Eliza inside.

“What time is the next train to Austin?” he asked the station agent.

“Tomorrow morning at a quarter to five,” the man told him.

He bought a ticket and went home to gather his things. Bryant was gone, and so was Miss Cunningham. He left a note on his desk for Bryant, letting him know what had happened, then packed a bag and returned to the station to wait.

“Awful early to be here,” the station agent said when he saw Wyatt seated on the bench outside. “Might should go home and come back when it’s closer to time to leave.”

Wyatt waved him off and the agent shrugged and went back inside. He couldn’t have slept at home anyway. Best to be here and ready to go.

Some time later, footsteps on the platform alerted him that someone was approaching. He must have dozed off because he jerked awake to find Bryant standing a few yards away.

“Didn’t want to wake you up,” he said. “I got your note.”

He scrubbed at his face and then nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got to follow this thing through and see that she’s okay. When we spoke last night, she was not of a mind to consider going back to Barnhart.”

“Could she have changed her mind?”

“More likely Ben changed it for her.”

Bryant nodded. “All right, well, any other instructions for me before you leave?”

“Why don’t you share our information with Miss Cunningham. Let her know that her alleged husband has returned to Austin.”

His employee nodded. “I’ll do it. Just curious. Any particular reason I need to give her for doing that?”

“Tell her she ought to go to the newspapers down there and correct them on their false and misleading story. We’ve discovered Barnhart is not married, and she’s still got a chance with him.”

“That’s mean, Boss.”

“Mean to who, Ben or her?”

“Her,” he said. “She’s nice enough.”

He sighed. “I’m sure she is. But if she raised a fuss about the legitimacy of the license it wouldn’t hurt, would it? Especially since she’s alleging she ran off with him first. Be kind. Don’t get her riled up, and make the point that she needs to consult a police officer before she does anything else. Be sure she presents the marriage license she showed us.”

“Will do.”

“Oh, and I keep forgetting to give you this.” He retrieved the folded license from his pocket and gave it to Bryant. “This is the marriage license he presented to Eliza. A clerk in Travis County said it was legitimate, but he based it on the paper it was written on and not on the signatures. Eliza swears that isn’t hers.”

Bryant held the half page up to the gaslight to inspect it. “This looks familiar.”

“It ought to. I believe it’s the same stuff that was stolen in New Orleans. Unfortunately, the sample you gave me was ruined, but you ought to be able to work your contacts and get some kind of confirmation, couldn’t you?”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you.” He paused. “I’ll book a room at the Driskill Hotel. You can send me updates there.”

July 4

The parade snaked up Congress Avenue at a snail’s pace. It was hot as blazes, and it was all Eliza could do to remain upright. Judge Barnhart and his wife had seen that the carriage carrying their son and his wife was festooned with the appropriate amount of ribbons and garland, and they’d commissioned a sign for the back that read A VOTE FOR BENJAMIN BARNHART IS A VOTE FOR HOME AND FAMILY.

As the carriage reached the capitol grounds, the driver diverted them to a side street where Ben quickly jumped from the carriage. A uniformed coachman of some sort hurried to help Eliza down.

Her knees wobbled and threatened to give way. Ben pushed the coachman out of the way and caught Eliza before she fell.

“Do not embarrass me today,” he hissed in her ear. “You will regret it.”

“I already do,” she said, not caring if it angered him. There was nothing he could do out here in front of half of Travis County, most of whom were voters.

Ben ignored her to fall in line behind other dignitaries who were gathering near the stage. At the appointed time, Governor Ross would address the crowd.

Then, finally, the farce would be over and she could go home.

After an eternity of waiting, the dignitaries were seated on the elevated stage and speeches began. Since Ben was not yet elected, his was the last name on the list.

When he was introduced, Eliza clapped politely but found she could not manage a smile. He spoke, but the words did not penetrate the fog surrounding her.

Then out of the crowd, a decidedly female voice shouted, “He’s a bigamist!”

Ben’s face went white, but he continued with his speech, a monologue on the importance of family and the promise of safety to the homes and hearths of his constituents. Ben had practiced in front of the mirror at the home near the capitol until Eliza could remember every word.

She sat very still and watched the crowd, hoping to catch sight of whoever had made the allegation. Then she heard the statement again, and this time she spied the person who shouted.

Beatrice Cunningham?

Eliza looked over at Ben. He was showing his nerves. He’d stopped midsentence and had to begin again.

Beatrice was making her way to the stage, a police officer in tow. “That’s him, Officer,” she said as she held up a paper for anyone who was near her to see. “Here’s the marriage license, and that’s my husband.”

Everything that happened after that was a blur. Not the fog of the previous days but a whirlwind of activity that saw Eliza whisked off the stage and hurried into a much more discreet conveyance than the one in which she arrived.

Eliza allowed herself to be moved along from one place to another as if she were a sailboat floating along on the summer currents of the Gulf of Mexico. The police were the first to take a seat in the newly furnished parlor. She offered them coffee and answered their questions, and they moved along only to be replaced by other people.

So many people. She lost track of their names. Of who they represented and why they were there.

Ben arrived late that evening in a nasty mood. His father was with him, and between the two of them, the home was quickly filled with shouting. Eliza retreated to the small slice of greenery allowed to her in this city location, the back garden.

Last night she had discovered she could sit in a chair in a certain place in the garden and look up between the live oak trees to see the Little Dipper. If she moved to another spot, Orion came into view. She hadn’t seen any meteorites, but then, she hadn’t expected to.

Tonight she didn’t care to look up to the heavens. Didn’t even want to. Instead, she sat in her chair and stared off into the walled-in space that was her home.

Thoughts passed through her head and then evaporated. Others seemed just out of reach.

Ben had married Beatrice.

So he had lied too.

Just like Papa. Like Red. And like Wyatt Creed.

A tear slipped down and she swiped at it. If anyone saw her sitting here, they might think she was distressed at her husband’s embarrassment in front of his constituents.

Tears were the appropriate response. But she wasn’t crying for Ben or even for her. She was crying for what might have been.

And what never could be.

The sound of footsteps on the gravel path caused her to look up. Wyatt Creed approached.

Looking at him now, knowing who he was, it was impossible to believe she hadn’t realized the man she kissed on the sailboat was the boy she had missed all these years. If he expected her to greet him, he would be disappointed.

Instead, she looked up toward the heavens and watched for something that she knew might never come.

He moved closer, keeping his silence until he’d taken the chair next to her. Even then, he didn’t spare her a greeting.

Eliza continued to watch the stars pulse overhead, and then, to her surprise, a meteorite streaked past. It was small and disappeared quickly, but she’d seen it and that was what mattered.

Beside her came a single word softly uttered: “One.”

“Do you still count them, Wyatt?”

“Every time.”

He shifted positions. She refused to look at him. They sat in silence for so long she almost forgot he was there.

“I wanted to tell you,” he finally said, his voice raw.

“But you didn’t,” was the only response she could manage.

Silence fell between them. Another star fell.

“Two,” Wyatt said.

“Stop it,” she told him. “You’re trying to bring back a time that no longer exists. We aren’t those kids anymore, Wyatt. There are too many lies between us.”

“Is that how you see it?”

This time she spared him a quick glance. “That’s what it is. You, Red, Papa, and Ben. Every one of you lied. And you would all say it was to protect me.” She pounded her fist on the arm of the chair. “Not one of you realizes I do not need to be protected.”

“I see it clearly now.” He stood and moved between her and her view of the sky. “I see you clearly now too.”

“What does that mean?”

He looked away as if considering the question and then turned back to her. “Not a day went by from that night when I walked away from camp nine years ago until right this minute that I didn’t think of you in some way or another. I looked up at the night sky and thought of you. I saw a red-haired woman across a room and had to make sure it wasn’t you. You were everywhere.” He paused. “You still are.”

Eliza kept her mouth shut for fear she would admit that she could say the same thing about him. Her fingers gripped the arms of the chair, but she did not look away.

“But the woman I looked for, the one I saw everywhere? She’s not who I was looking for. She was made of memories and imaginings and fashioned out of what I wished she had become.”

“So you’re disappointed in what you found?”

“The opposite, actually. I completely underestimated you in every way.”

“Sit down, Wyatt,” she said.

“You want me to stay?”

Eliza shook her head. “You can stay or go. That’s up to you. But you’re blocking my view.”

He might have smiled. She thought she caught a glimpse of one before she turned her attention to the night sky.

“I brought you something.” He slid a folded paper toward her.

“It’s too dark to read this,” she said. “Tell me what it says.”

“It is a report that states your marriage license was printed on paper stolen from a printer in New Orleans. The one the clerk said they get their paper from. Two men in police custody in New Orleans have attested to the fact that they used the stolen paper to create marriage licenses for Ben Barnhart.”

She turned toward him. “Licenses plural? As in more than one?”

“As in two.” Wyatt paused. “One is yours. That was confirmed by the sample I provided when you allowed me to take half of your license. The other was confirmed this morning when Beatrice Cunningham delivered her license to the Austin Police Department.” He paused. “Apparently a former Secret Service agent on the governor’s staff was willing to come over to look at the document this morning before the parade.”

“So he is a bigamist.”

“No, Eliza,” Wyatt said. “He’s not married to either of you.”

“I understand his reason for pursuing me and creating the false license. He’s been chasing me for years. But why did he do that to Beatrice? And how did he do it? Was their license also from Travis County?”

“No, that’s where it gets interesting. The printer provides this paper to a number of government entities, none of which are in Pennsylvania. He created a story that he wanted their wedding to be in Washington, DC, so they could be married in front of political dignitaries, when actually DC was the closest place that used the same paper.”

Eliza shook her head. “Again, though, why Beatrice?”

“She told me that herself,” he said, “when she came to see me a few days ago. She’s the one who tipped us off that Barnhart had found you at the hotel. I wish I’d—”

“Stop,” she told him. “It’s not worth talking about.”

“It is, but I will respect your request.” He paused. “Beatrice told us that she would do anything for Ben. She would be a willing wife and a political asset. The only problem was Beatrice wouldn’t leave Philadelphia. That puts a damper on any Texas political aims. So he had to try again with a different wife.”

“Why not just run for office up there?”

“And miss a chance to impress the judge up close?” Wyatt shook his head. “You don’t see it, do you? Ben has lived in the shadow of a rich and important man. It’s not enough to inherit what his father built. He wants to show the judge he can do it himself.”

“And he is willing to do anything to achieve that,” she said.

“Apparently.” Wyatt paused. “Red told me there’s a summer trail drive leaving out of Austin next week. Some of your father’s cattle are going as far as Fort Worth with one of those droving outfits. There’s room for you and a wagon for sleeping and stargazing if you want it.”

“I might,” she said.

They sat in silence for a while. Then Eliza slid Wyatt a sideways look. “You lied to me. I don’t know what I’m going to do about that.”

“Nothing you can do,” he said. “Except maybe consider the circumstance and decide if you still feel like you did out on that boat.”

“Oh, I do,” she said. “I feel like I am drifting and bobbing and looking at dry land without aiming in that direction. Like I want to head off for parts unknown but I can’t steer in the dark very well either.”

“I’d go with you,” he said.

“You can’t.”

“The offer is there anyway.”

A popping sound alerted Eliza to the beginning of the patriotic fireworks display over in front of the capitol. Sparks of red, white, and blue shot up and turned the night sky bright with their glow.

Eliza watched in silence, wishing the noise and commotion would cease so she could see the stars again. After a few minutes the show ended. Only then did she hear the screaming.

She ran toward the noise with Wyatt on her heels. The front door of the house was open, but no one was inside.

Outside on the lawn, a circle of people had gathered. In the center was Ben Barnhart lying dead with a stain of red decorating the suit he’d purchased especially for the parade this morning. Kneeling beside him with a gun in her hand was Beatrice Cunningham, whom the papers would call Beatrice Barnhart in their morning editions.