The next few days passed easily, as everyone at the new orphans’ ranch and school fell into a comfortable routine of construction, classes, and chores. The old mill’s walls had been repaired, and the loft floor reinforced with beams that would be strong enough to hold rows of bookshelves. A place for a sturdy iron stove had been prepared in one corner since Henry had declared it would be a safer way to heat the classroom than the open fireplace.

With lessons finished for the day, and the sun rapidly making its downward journey toward the horizon, Phebe and Martha were enjoying a cup of coffee while the children played nearby. Both women laughed at the impromptu sword fight going on between Squealer and Jonah.

The two young boys, who had become fast friends, were dueling it out with long thin branches as Micah and the other boys stood to the side, cheering them on. Phebe glanced across the fire to the cabin, where Henry was overseeing the setup of their new bed.

Reb had pulled his wagon into the open yard barely an hour before. Phebe had stood and watched, half-embarrassed and half-amused, as Henry made a show of having the new mattress unloaded. He’d also pointed to a trunk that Reb had found waiting at the train station. It was filled with skirts, blouses, and practical boots, courtesy of Caroline and Christa. Finally, Reb had also rolled out a large barrel bursting with wooden toys and cloth dolls, many of which were now spread out on the grass where the children were gathered. Indeed, the wagon had been a virtual treasure trove of items sent from San Francisco, ranging from cookware to a heavy crate of Henry’s books.

“I’d best help Jake get the supper started.” Martha stood up. She’d been sitting on the ground next to the log Phebe was perched on. “I’m goin’ to make my special cornbread fer Mister Henry tonight as a thankee for having Reb bring back those new britches and shirts fer me.”

Phebe had been deeply touched at Henry’s thoughtfulness toward Martha. She really did love that man, and had made up her mind to tell him so tonight. Even if he hadn’t said the words yet himself.

“Miz Phebe?”

Phebe looked down at Mite, who was tugging on her skirt.

“Sarah says I don’t have a real name. Not like hers.”

When the little girl’s bottom lip started to tremble, Phebe reached down and patted her gently on top of her brown curls. “There are all kinds of names, Mite. Sarah is a formal kind of name, and yours is more like a nickname.” Phebe sank to her knees so the two of them would be eye to eye. “Would you like a formal name too? You can have both, if you’d like.”

Mite nodded, and the threatened tears in her eyes turned to bright sparkles when she smiled.

Squealer dropped his makeshift sword to the ground and trotted over, a frown on his face. “How do you git one of them formal names?”

“Those formal names,” Phebe corrected. “Someone picks one out for you.”

“My ma and pa gave me mine,” Sarah declared as the rest of the children gathered around.

“I guess Ma picked out a name for me,” Micah said with a shrug. “I don’t remember.”

Smiling at that, Phebe winked at the boy. “I expect you got your name the day you were born.”

Jonah stepped up and slung an arm around Squealer’s shoulders. “What if you don’t have a ma or pa anymore to pick out a name for you? Does that mean you can’t have one of them formal names?”

“Those formal names,” Phebe said again before she stood up. “And it doesn’t have to be your mother or father. The headmistress of the orphanage where I grew up gave me my name.”

Several little mouths dropped wide open.

“You grew up in an orphanage?” Micah looked at Phebe as if he expected her to deny it.

She slowly nodded, her gaze moving from one child to another. “Yes, I did. I went there shortly after I was born, and Madam Wigg gave me my name.”

“Wig?” Squealer’s nose wrinkled. “You mean like one of them . . . I mean, one of those things that some people wear on their heads?”

Phebe laughed. “I guess so.”

Mite tugged on her skirt again. “Can you give me a formal name?”

“Me too,” Squealer piped in as Jonah nodded.

“We can pick them out together.” Phebe braced herself against the sudden whoops and hollers, smiling as Sarah and Mite locked hands and began to dance around in a circle.

“What’s all the commotion about?”

Phebe looked over her shoulder as Henry came up beside her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Phebe leaned into her husband as the children raced off to tell Martha what they were planning to do.

“Squealer and Mite want to pick out formal names for themselves.”

“Ah.” Henry leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Phebe’s cheek. “Another excellent idea, Mrs. Frommer.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

“Supper won’t be ready for a while yet,” Henry said as he led his wife away from the celebrating group of children. “Martha mentioned something about cornbread.”

Phebe stepped away from him and frowned. “I hope you aren’t thinking of trying out that new bed right now, Henry Frommer. The children are still wandering about.”

Her husband laughed and captured one of her hands. But instead of pulling her toward the cabin, he headed for the far side of the field. “We never did take that walk together down by the lake. Why don’t we do that now?”

Feeling a twinge of guilt at leaving the entire meal preparation to Martha, Phebe resisted the tug on her hand. “I should help with supper.”

“You’ve earned some idle time, Phebe.” Henry tightened his grip on her hand to get her moving again. “And there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Hearing the serious note in her husband’s voice, Phebe glanced up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart, but I do have to tell you something.”

Blinking at the endearment she’d never heard Henry use before, Phebe walked quietly along. She hoped her husband was going to declare his love for her, but the nervous butterflies in her stomach told her whatever he had on his mind wasn’t making him happy.

They walked all the way to a pointed piece of land that hung slightly over the lake, a small cave carved into the rock wall below it. Henry led her to a flat-topped boulder and waited as Phebe sat and arranged her skirt so it wasn’t tangled around her legs. She finally folded her hands in front of her and waited.

Henry stood silently, looking out over the water, the afternoon sun glinting off the lenses of his glasses. After a long moment, he lifted his hand and ran it through his hair before squatting in front of Phebe. He took both her hands in his.

“Before we left San Francisco, I asked a favor of a friend.”

“What favor, Henry?”

“This friend owns a shipping line, and I wanted him to do a little research into the name Cora B.”

Phebe’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Cora B.? The name my mother wrote down?”

Her husband nodded, his gaze locked with hers. “I thought it might be a ship, and it was.”

“A ship,” Phebe repeated softly. “You thought it might be the name of the ship that my father and brother sailed on?”

“It seemed a logical conclusion that your mother would have given you some way to find your father.” Henry looked so worried that Phebe felt a sense of dread over what he was trying to say. Tears were already forming in her eyes as he nodded.

“My friend easily found a record of the ship with that name since it had been one of theirs.” Henry paused and sucked in a long breath. “He also found the ship’s log in their inventory of old records.”

“Was there a Daniel Johnson listed as a passenger?” Phebe asked quietly.

“Yes, there was, sweetheart. A Daniel Johnson, aged thirty-two, and his son, Samuel, aged eight, were recorded in the log.” Henry shifted his position and sat down next to his wife on the wide rock. “A fever broke out on the ship and claimed over half the passengers.”

Phebe gasped, and a tear spilled down her cheek. “Oh no.”

“I’m sorry, Phebe. Your father’s name was listed among the dead.”

Phebe went very still, her breath caught in her throat. “Was my brother on that list too?”

Henry shook his head. “No. There was a notation by your father’s name that his son was taken in by another family, but there wasn’t anything else identifying who they were.”

Phebe slowly stood and walked to the edge of the point of land. She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared out over the water, silently mourning the father she’d never met, and the brother she would never know. He’d been taken in by another family, who might not have gone to the gold fields at all. They could have stayed in San Francisco, or gone north to Oregon, or even continued on to sail to China for all she knew.

Samuel. His name was Samuel. But it was just a name. She had no face to go with it. Suddenly, it all seemed so final.

Two names among many entered into the log of a ship that had likely stopped sailing long ago. All these years she’d been making a promise to her angel mother that she would find her father and brother, when her mother had known all along where her husband was, and that her daughter would never be able to find her brother.

“Are you all right?” Henry’s hands slid over her shoulders as he placed a kiss in her hair. “What can I do to help?”

She leaned her head back until it was resting against her husband’s chest. “You’ve already done more than I can ever thank you for, Henry. You found my answers.” She turned and twined her arms around his neck. “Finally knowing what happened to them, or at least why they never returned for Mama and me, is better than spending the rest of my life wondering.”

As she lifted her mouth to his, a loud snap echoed from the trees to their left.

“Now ain’t that sweet? Sorry to be interruptin’, folks, but we got some business with Frommer.”

Henry gave her a warning with his eyes before he slowly turned around, keeping Phebe behind him. Two men moved into the open, the late-afternoon sunlight glinting off the barrels of the guns they had pointed right at Henry.

The taller one stepped forward. His mouth curved up into a cheeky grin. “We appreciate you comin’ out for a little stroll with the lady. Been tryin’ to figger out how to git you alone fer a couple of days, and here you up and done it fer us.”

“Yeah, much obliged,” the second man sneered. “Now let’s tie him up and git goin’.”

Henry kept a hand on Phebe, moving her as he slowly turned to keep the two men directly in front of him. “What do you want?”

“There’s someone who thinks you’ve insulted him, and he wants to have a little talk with you about it.” The closest man held out a length of rope. “He’s payin’ us to bring you back to Reno. He’ll be waiting there fer you by now.”

Her husband took his glasses off and slowly wiped the lenses on the sleeve of his shirt. “You’re speaking of Mr. Janson, I presume?”

Peeking around Henry, Phebe saw the jolt of surprise on both men’s faces before their eyes narrowed. One of them gestured directly at her.

“How quietly you come along will decide on whether we tie the woman up or toss her in the lake.”