As she drifted away, she imagined what it would be like to fall asleep in Ford’s arms every night, beneath a heavy down quilt, cradled in a feather mattress. That’s what he promised. That’s what she held onto when nothing else would sooth her. Eliza didn’t want to consider the possibility that it was only a dream, and not a vow like she had assumed.
* * * *
Ford’s prediction had been accurate. They reached Dead Man’s Corner by dinnertime, though to Eliza’s curious eye, it looked far more like a real settlement instead of just a small time miner’s camp. Real buildings made from imported wood lined the town’s main street—three saloons, two hotels, a sheriff’s office that doubled with the post office, the magistrate, and a bank. People crowded the streets, moving about their business, thoug
