"I was told they would be better off. The children. Better homes. Money. Education."
The marshal's voice hardened.
"Those weren't your decisions to make."
The doctor covered his face.
"I know."
I looked toward him.
For a moment, I imagined the older woman holding her son.
The younger woman wrapping her daughter in a blanket.
Then this man entering the room with promises of medical care.
I wanted to ask how much he had been paid.
I wanted to ask whether he had heard the mothers crying.
I wanted to ask what kind of man could take a newborn child from a woman and sleep afterward.
But the marshal spoke first.
"Where are the children?"
The doctor lowered his hands.
"I don't know exactly."
The marshal's expression changed.
"What do you mean?"
"The arrangements were handled through a freight agent."
"Which agent?"
The doctor hesitated.
Then gave a name.
The same private freight company whose mark appeared on the copied ledger.
The marshal wrote it down.
"Where were the children taken?"
The doctor swallowed.
"The girl went north."
"To Silver Mesa?"
His eyes widened.
For a moment, he looked genuinely frightened.
Then he nodded.
"Yes."
The marshal leaned forward.
"And the boy?"
The doctor's voice became barely audible.
"West."
"Where?"
He closed his eyes.
"A ranch near Black Canyon."
I stared.
Two children.
Two different destinations.
Two families who might have no idea where their children came from.
The marshal stood.
"You're coming with me."
The doctor looked up in alarm.
"Am I under arrest?"
The marshal answered carefully.
"You're being detained while we secure the records and determine the charges supported by the evidence."
The man began shaking.
I watched him.
I had expected to feel satisfaction.
Instead, I felt sick.
Because somewhere beyond those hills, two children were growing older without knowing their mothers had been told they were dead.
And two women were waiting in a stagehouse for answers that might either restore their lives or break their hearts again.
When we returned, the older woman was standing near the window.
She turned the moment she saw us.
"Did you find anything?"
The marshal removed his hat.
"Yes."
The younger woman came forward.
"Are they alive?"
For a moment, he hesitated.
Then he nodded.
"We have strong evidence both children survived their births."
The younger woman's knees buckled.
I caught her chair as she sat down.
The older woman pressed both hands against her mouth.
Her eyes filled.
The marshal continued.
"We have possible locations. But I don't want to promise more than we know. We need to identify the children and verify the records."
The older woman began crying.