Abigail had probably lost track of time.
Over and over Nathan repeated the thought, as he finished repairing a section of fence at the back of the corral and put away his tools. Hester Jane and Vivian had left hours ago and still there was no sign of Abigail or Lizzie. But that didn’t mean something was wrong. So why did his stomach feel as if he’d swallowed a stone? And why was he as jumpy as a salamander caught between a boy and a stick?
Leaving the livery, Nathan headed toward town. It wasn’t as though Calico was all that big. He could stop working, find out what Abigail and Lizzie were up to, and be back before the sun had begun to set over the mountains.
No one at the hotel claimed to have seen the girls all day. The same was true at the milliner. At the general store, a new sign proclaiming the place Gardner’s Mercantile had been erected. Nathan went inside and sought out Caroline Martin. Caroline Gardner, he reminded himself. She and John were married now.
Caroline rested atop a stool at the rear of the store, her face flushed as though she’d been running.
“Afternoon, Caroline,” Nathan said, dashing his hat from his head.
Caroline’s eyes sparkled as she looked up. “Nathan, how good to see you.” Her gaze flitted over his shoulder. “Abigail’s not with you?”
He sidled to the counter, the stone in his stomach growing heavier. “Uh—actually, that’s why I stopped by. You haven’t seen her, have you?”
Slipping from the stool, she wiped her hands on a frilly apron tied around her waist and came to stand next to him. “Why, no, I haven’t. Was she supposed to come by today?”
He worked his fingers around the brim of his hat. He certainly didn’t mean to alarm Caroline, but it wasn’t like Abigail to disappear for hours, either. “Not exactly. It’s just that she went to see Lin Chen this morning, and then she was supposed to visit with her aunts, but she never made it to the hotel. I thought maybe she got sidetracked and stopped by here.”
Cocking her head to one side, Caroline propped her elbow on the wrist of her other hand and thought. “I don’t think so. ‘Course, I could have missed her. John and I have been stocking shelves all day, and I’ve been in and out, carrying supplies from the wagon.” She motioned to tables laden with crates. “I can hardly wait to get all of this unpacked.”
Nathan looked around the store. Indeed, she and John had been busy. Most of the old merchandise Mr. Wiley sold had been moved aside to make room for new things—bolts of cloth and ribbons of every color; barrels of rice, oats, and beans; cooking pots and lanterns.
“Where is John?” Nathan asked, cutting short his survey of the store’s goods.
Caroline jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Out back. Do you want to see him? Maybe he knows something.”
Nathan nodded and then followed as Caroline led the way past the counter to the rear entrance. Outside, John and the two hands he’d hired sweated as they wrestled fifty-pound bags of flour out of a wagon.
John was a big man, not thin and spry as Mr. Wiley had been. Spying Nathan, John stopped and slapped the flour from his hands in a dusty, white cloud and then moved to join him and his wife on the boardwalk.
“Morning, Nathan.”
“John.”
He shook Nathan’s hand and then braced his hands on his hips. “What can I do for you?”
Nathan cleared his throat. “I’m looking for Abigail. Have you seen her?’
John’s dark brows bunched in a puzzled frown. “No. Caroline?”
She shook her head. “I thought maybe you had, since we’ve both been going back and forth.”
Tugging off his hat, John drew his sleeve across his sweaty forehead and then plunked it back atop his damp head. “Sorry, Nathan, can’t say as I’ve seen her.” He craned his neck toward the two men still unloading the wagon. “Either of you boys seen Abigail Hawk?” At the negative shake of their heads, he returned his gaze to Nathan. “Something troubling you?”
Nathan shrugged. “Nothing I can put my finger on. Still…” He cast a glance at the sun, which now dipped even closer to the horizon. “She’s been gone a long time.”
Worry darkened Caroline’s eyes. “How long?”
“Since before lunch. I have no idea how long she stayed at the Chens’.”
“Well, there you go,” John said, nudging his hat back with his thumb. “Maybe something came up and she’s still with Lin.”
Maybe. Nathan hooked his thumbs in the loops of his trousers. “You’re right. I’ll head that way. Thanks, John. Caroline.”
Caroline touched his arm. “Should I go with you?”
He forced a smile. “Nah, I’m sure she’s there. Either way, I’ll let you know.”
Though she still looked uneasy, she gave a slow nod and stepped back, looping her arm through her husband’s.
Grasping a post, Nathan swung off the boardwalk and landed on the hard-packed road with a thump. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
They nodded, and Nathan turned toward Chinatown.
Lin Chen lived in one of the smallest cabins near the heart of the camp. Strung between the house and a tree, laundry fluttered on the breeze, and Lin was adding more. At her feet sat two baskets, one filled with clean clothes, the other with a kicking baby. The moment she caught sight of him, Lin hurried forward and clasped his hands.
“Mistah Nathan! You come so soon?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“The firewood. You come to bring for Lin?” At his look of confusion, she paused and tilted her head. “Miss Abigail say you come tomorrow.”
“Abigail was here?”
She smiled and wagged her finger. “Mistah Nathan, you joke with Lin?”
Desperation rose from his midsection. He grasped her shoulder. “Lin, what time was Abigail here?”
Her smile slowly faded. “She come early. Bring milk for Hui.”
“And what time did she leave?”
She scratched her head. “She not stay long. Maybe”—she lifted a finger—“one.”
“One hour?”
Lin nodded.
One hour. Dismay swept from the bottom of his boots to the top of his head. That meant she’d left just after nine and had been missing for almost eight hours.
Sick at his stomach, he whirled—to go where? No one had seen her. He cupped his head in his hands, feeling as lost and hopeless as he had the night Charlotte died. And then he heard it.
In the distance, a dog barked.