I could see it whenever he spoke.
He had paid a large sum to bring a child into his home without insisting on reliable proof of her origins.
But embarrassment was not the same as knowledge of a crime.
The marshal made that distinction clear.
He told the man that the investigation would establish who knew what, and when.
Then he explained that the girl's future would have to be determined with her safety and her mother's rights at the center of the proceedings.
The younger woman listened to every word.
She did not demand that the child be carried away immediately.
She wanted to remain close.
To visit.
To learn the little girl's habits.
To discover whether the child liked songs, whether she was frightened by thunder, whether she preferred sleeping beneath a light blanket or a heavy one.
Those were small questions.
But to the younger mother, they were everything.
For more than a year, she had known nothing about her own daughter.
Now she could finally begin learning.
Before we left for Black Canyon, the wealthy woman approached me.
She stood near the stable holding a small envelope.
"Mr. Draice?"
I turned.
"Yes?"
She looked toward the garden.
The younger mother was sitting beside her daughter beneath a mesquite tree.
The child was playing with the braided cord.
The wealthy woman watched them.
Then she turned back toward me.
"I wanted to thank you."
I shook my head.
"You don't owe me anything."
She looked down.
"For bringing the truth here."
I considered that.
Then I answered.
"Truth doesn't always arrive gently."
Her eyes filled.
"No."
She looked toward the little girl.
"I thought I was helping a child who had nobody."
I nodded.
"Now you know she had somebody."
The woman swallowed.
"Yes."
I studied her.
"That doesn't mean the care you gave her meant nothing."
She looked surprised.
I continued.
"She was fed. She was loved. She was safe while her mother was searching."
Tears ran down the woman's cheeks.
I looked toward the garden.
"Just don't let the love you've given her become a reason to deny the truth about where she came from."
The woman nodded.
"I won't."
She offered the envelope.
Inside was money for the journey.
I hesitated.
Then accepted enough to cover supplies and the wagon's expenses, explaining that the remainder should be kept for the child's needs and any lawful proceedings ahead.
The woman nodded.
Then she spoke quietly.
"If you find the boy, tell his mother not every family who received one of those children knew what happened."
I looked toward her.
"I will."
She swallowed.