Revealed by Tamera Alexander Page A

see her reflection, and she immediately noticed its obvious imperfections.
    Her own, not the mirror’s.
    At the angle in which she held the mirror, one of the jagged cracks in the glass matched almost perfectly the scar edging down her right temple. She slowly lowered the mirror and managed to find her smile again.
    ‘‘I can’t thank you enough for these items, Mr. Roberts. I’ve been looking for a book to read and will put this mirror to good use. These will do nicely, thank you.’’ She pressed some bills into his hand.
    ‘‘Well, I hope you enjoy ’em. I shined that mirror myself just yesterday. Can’t read much though, so don’t know if that book is worth its weight or not. It’s one of them stagecoach books, they tell me. It’ll fit right in your pocket while you travel.’’ Callum Roberts glanced down at the money in his palm, then back at Annabelle, who managed some quick backward steps toward the wagon. ‘‘Oh no, ma’am. This is too much. Way too much.’’
    She climbed back up to the buckboard, a funny sensation flitting through her—like the sun was rising for a second time that morning, only this time . . . inside of her. She couldn’t keep from smiling. ‘‘Nonsense, Mr. Roberts. These items are well worth it to me. Now you take some of that and go see Doc Hadley about that leg. Get yourself a new coat for winter, and some gloves too. Then head on over to Myrtle’s and treat yourself to some of her fried chicken and bread pudding.’’
    Through the thick growth of his unkempt beard, his lips quivered. ‘‘Thank you, ma’am. You’re a good woman, you are.’’
    Before emotion got the best of her, Annabelle indicated to Patrick with a nod that she was ready to pull away. When they’d gone some distance down the road, she chanced a look back.
    Callum Roberts stood exactly where she’d left him, one hand resting on his cart, the other raised in a half wave. She offered the same in return.
    When they reached the corner, Patrick glanced down at the items in her lap. ‘‘You just never know the value of some things, do you?’’
    Annabelle didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. As Patrick maneuvered their rig around a buggy in the street, she just kept thanking God for this marvelous, undeserved grace she’d somehow stumbled into.
    Patrick pulled the wagon behind the house minutes later, hopped down, and came around to her side. Annabelle accepted his assistance as he helped her down. Then their eyes met. Something flickered behind his expression. That same something she thought she’d glimpsed in town earlier.
    She smiled. ‘‘Okay, whatever it is . . . go ahead and say it.’’
    ‘‘Go ahead and say what?’’ He turned away, but not before she saw a sheepish grin inching his mouth upward.
    ‘‘You’re not a good liar, Patrick. But it’s a shortcoming that serves you well.’’
    He turned back. ‘‘I was just wondering if there’s any way I could still reach Matthew Taylor if he’s in town, maybe talk to him about taking the job. You need to leave Willow Springs, Annabelle. Have a chance to start over again.’’ As though sensing her disapproval, he continued without a pause. ‘‘When Larson and I spoke yesterday, he said that Matthew would make an excellent guide. I’m pretty good at reasoning with people, and I think I could—’’
    She held up a hand. ‘‘We discussed this last night, Patrick. Matthew is long gone by now.’’ She started toward the house and Patrick followed. ‘‘He wants nothing to do with me, I assure you. And for you and Hannah to hope otherwise . . .’’ She turned when she reached the back stairs, intentionally softening her tone. ‘‘Or for me to hope otherwise, is plain foolish. I’ll leave for Denver this week. I’ll get a room at a boardinghouse I know of there, wait until next spring, and then join up with the first wagon train that’s heading north. I’ll be fine, Patrick. I’ll get a job—a respectable one, I