They Called 19-Year-Old Abigail a Liar and a Harlot—Then the Feared Mountain Man Walked In and Said, “That Child Is Mine.”

Chapter 7

Ten years earlier, Thomas Montgomery had disappeared while transporting silver ore through Bitter Creek, and his wagon had been found burned on the road with two bodies recovered from the wreckage, and Morgan had buried what remained and spent years believing his younger brother was dead. Crowe looked toward Mayor Hastings and said, “He wasn’t,” and Charles shouted for him to shut his mouth, but Crowe smiled weakly, perhaps understanding that his employer no longer had power, and he explained that Thomas had discovered the mayor’s first land fraud, and that Hastings had had him taken. Morgan’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Where?” he asked, and Crowe said, “Prison camp north of the old silver mine,” and the federal marshal turned sharply and asked what prison camp, and Crowe swallowed and said it was where men who would not sell and men who knew too much were worked in the abandoned mine under false names.

The entire valley seemed to hold its breath, and the marshal ordered six soldiers north immediately, and Morgan caught his arm and said, “I’m going,” and Abigail stepped forward and said, “So am I,” and Morgan said, “No,” and she stared at him and said, “You really haven’t learned anything about me, have you?” and despite everything, Silas laughed. Morgan looked at Abigail and then surrendered and said, “All right,” and Mayor Hastings was placed in irons, and so was Billy, and as the marshal fastened his cuffs, Billy looked at Abigail, and she expected hatred, but instead she saw emptiness. “I did hurt you,” he said, and the valley went quiet, and Abigail froze, and Billy swallowed and said, “I threatened you. I thought being my father’s son meant I could take whatever I wanted.”

Morgan moved toward him, but Abigail stopped him with one hand, and Billy continued, saying he would not ask for forgiveness, and Abigail said, “Good,” and he flinched, and she said, “You don’t deserve it,” and he said, “I know.” She looked at the man who had once controlled every breath she took, and now he stood shackled in the snow, small and ordinary and powerless, and Abigail realized something extraordinary, that she was no longer afraid of him. “You will tell the truth,” she said, “all of it,” and Billy nodded, and she said, “Then you live with what you did,” and for Billy Hastings, that seemed to frighten him more than death. Three days later they reached the abandoned silver mine, and the soldiers found seventeen prisoners, most of them barely alive, and Morgan searched every face, and then from the deepest tunnel two soldiers carried out a thin man with a gray-streaked beard.

Morgan stopped breathing, and the prisoner looked at him, and his eyes widened, and he said, “Morgan?” and the mountain man fell to his knees, and Thomas Montgomery began to cry, and Morgan did too, and Abigail had never imagined such a sound could come from him. He embraced his brother in the snow and held him as though ten lost years could somehow be pulled back through the strength of his arms, and Thomas survived, and so did every prisoner removed from the mine. The revelations destroyed Bitter Creek’s old order, and Mayor Hastings was taken east to stand federal trial on charges ranging from corruption to kidnapping and attempted murder, and Elias Crowe testified against him, and Billy confessed publicly to threatening Abigail and participating in his father’s cover-ups, and he was sentenced to prison. Reverend Preston resigned from his pulpit, and no one asked him to, he simply stood before the same congregation that had watched him condemn his daughter and said, “A man who chooses reputation over truth has no right to preach courage,” and then he left Bitter Creek.

For months Abigail did not speak to him, and he never demanded that she should, and he wrote her letters, short ones with no excuses and no sermons and only apologies, and eventually she answered one, not with forgiveness but with a question. “Why did you choose the church over me?” she asked, and his reply came a week later, and it said, “Because I confused being respected with being righteous. I will regret it every day I live.” She kept that letter, and she did not know when she would be able to forgive him, but she folded it carefully and placed it in the pocket of her dress, and somehow that felt like a beginning. Spring came slowly to the mountains, and Morgan rebuilt the cabin, and this time he did not build it alone, because Thomas, still thin but stronger each week, helped raise the walls, and Silas brought lumber, and Martha Bell arrived with curtains, and half of Bitter Creek appeared one Saturday carrying tools and food and shame.

Abigail stood in the clearing watching them work, and she said, “They hated us four months ago,” and Morgan hammered a nail and said, “People are strange,” and she asked if that was his wisdom, and he said, “Yes,” and she laughed, and Morgan stared at her because he loved that sound, he had for months, he simply had no idea what to do about it. By late May the cabin was larger than before, with two bedrooms and a proper kitchen, and in the corner stood the wooden cradle that Morgan thought the avalanche had destroyed, because Thomas had found it buried beneath the shattered timber and had repaired one broken rail. Abigail touched the smooth wood and asked, “You made this?” and Morgan suddenly became fascinated by the floor and said, “Maybe,” and she asked about the little stars he had carved into it, and he said, “Got bored,” and she asked about the rabbit, and he said, “Very long winter,” and she smiled and asked, “Morgan Montgomery, are you embarrassed?” and he said, “No,” while his ears turned red, and she laughed harder, and then she stopped.

A sharp pain crossed her stomach, and Morgan dropped the hammer and asked what was wrong, and another pain came, and Abigail gripped the table and said his name, and his face turned white, and Thomas looked through the doorway and said, “Oh,” and Morgan stared at him and asked what that meant, and Thomas said, “It means the baby is coming.” Morgan Montgomery had faced wolves and avalanches and armed men and starvation, but nothing in his life terrified him like those six words, and he rode down the mountain at a speed that nearly killed both himself and his horse, and he returned with Martha Bell, who had delivered eleven babies in her lifetime. For twelve hours Morgan paced outside the door, and at one point Martha opened it and told him that if he wore a trench through her floor he was repairing it, and he said, “My floor,” and she said, “Not today,” and slammed the door, and Thomas sat on the porch laughing while Morgan glared at him and asked if he thought this was funny, and Thomas said, “Extremely.”

Then they heard it, a baby crying, and Morgan stopped moving as if the sound had pinned him to the ground, and the door opened and Martha smiled and said, “Come meet your son,” and Morgan froze, and Thomas nudged him and said, “Go,” and Morgan entered the cabin and walked toward the bed where Abigail lay exhausted beneath a quilt, holding a tiny red-faced baby wrapped in white cloth. He approached like a man entering a sacred place, and Abigail looked up and asked, “Would you like to hold him?” and his hands trembled and he said, “I’ll break him,” and she said, “You wrestled a bear,” and he said, “Bear was bigger,” and she smiled and said his name, and he sat beside her, and she carefully placed the baby in his arms. Morgan stared down at the child, and the child opened his eyes, and Morgan’s face crumpled, and Abigail saw tears slide into his beard as he whispered, “He’s beautiful,” and she said yes, and a silence passed, and then Morgan asked something she did not expect. “What will you name him?” and she said, “You,” and he looked confused and said, “No, I mean his name,” and she said, “I know,” and Morgan stared, and Abigail smiled and said, “Morgan Thomas Montgomery.”

His eyes widened, and he said her name, and she told him he had saved his life before he was born and he had saved hers too, and Morgan shook his head and said, “You saved yourself,” and she said, “Then perhaps we both deserve credit,” and the baby made a tiny sound, and Morgan smiled, and the smile transformed his entire face into something Abigail had never seen before.