"Josie, I wish to see you wed and comfortable, before I pass away."
I cringed at the words. "I understand, Father," I managed in a calm voice. "But can we not wait a little longer? You won't die on me anytime soon. I can feel it."
He smiled. "Nonetheless, you must have someone to take care of you. I have prepared …" he stretched for a piece of paper on the nightstand and sagged.
Alarmed by his frailty, I reached for it and handed it to him.
"Thank you," he murmured. "There are names there of suitable husbands. Read them and tell me who you choose."
The man loved his daughter enough to give her a choice. I swallowed the lump in my throat, understanding how unusual it was for a wealthy father to grant his daughter a choice in this era. I read through the names. Philip and the names of seven others were listed in shaky handwriting that was at times, illegible.
"I can't remember some of these men," I whispered.
"They are all respectable men."
This is insane. Then again, I wasn't getting married. A woman who no longer existed was. There was no need for me to choose carefully for the real-Josie, but I had the sneaking suspicion I needed to plan for my safety, in case I ended up here longer than I planned or John died before the twenty fourth. Whoever hurt the other Josies could always come for me.
"The sheriff isn't on here," I noted. "Is he not respectable?"
"He is, for a half-breed, but he is also very poor."
I bit back my initial response, aware of how fragile John was. If I was going to be stuck with a stranger, I'd rather it be one I knew could probably protect me and accepted the reality that I was different. "He has a way of finding me when I am lost," I said carefully.
John gave a wheezing chuckle. "Perhaps you are right, daughter. Perhaps I should wed you to a master tracker." He laughed again before subsiding into a bout of coughing. Blood dabbed the corner of his lips, and he rested back on his pillows.
I shifted closer to rub his back and gave him a glass of water. "I should not make you laugh, Father," I murmured. "I'm so sorry."
"Nonsense. I have always loved to laugh at your jokes."
I gave a tight smile and watched him sip water from the glass. His hand shook with the effort to hold it.
With a sinking feeling, I began to think he wasn't going to last another four days, to the event I needed to stop. I didn't want to feel … this. Whatever this was. Sorrow, guilt, yearning … emotions that I expected to feel if John was really my father and not someone who had already been dead for a very long time before I was born.