Come The Spring [067-011-5.0]
 
 
 
   by: julie garwood
 
 
 
   Synopsis:
 
 
 
   Cole Clayborne has been tricked into accepting a badge and the title of
 
   U.S. Marshal by Sheriff Marshall Ryan. He would refuse the badge if he
 
   could, but the Blackwater Gang is up to no good and Cole feels
 
   compelled to help. Sheriff Ryan has been chasing the gang for two
 
   years--ever since they murdered his wife and daughter during a bank
 
   robbery--and he needs Cole to help him solve the case. When the
 
   Rockford Falls bank is robbed, only one witness is left alive.
 
 
 
   Terrified by the ordeal, the lone survivor won't come forward to
 
   testify; Cole and Daniels's only clue to her identity is a list that
 
   includes the names of three women who conducted business at the bank
 
   that afternoon. Is the eyewitness the beautiful, aristocratic Rebecca
 
   James or the exquisitely lovely Grace Winthrop? Could it be the
 
   seductive Jessica Summers? Somehow, Cole and Daniel have to keep the
 
   three women safe while solving the bank robberies and tracking down the
 
   killers. But the biggest danger of all may be the threat of losing
 
   their hearts to one of the beautiful women.
 
 
 
   Books by Julie Garwood Gentle Warrior Rebellious Desire Honor's
 
   Splendour The Lion's Lady The Bride Guardian Angel The Gift The Prize
 
   The Secret Castles Saving Grace Prince Charming For the Roses The
 
   Wedding One Pink Rose One White Rose One Red Rose Come the Spring
 
   Published by POCKET BOOKS , POCKET BOOKS NewYork London Toronto Sydney
 
   Tokyo Singapore
   For my daughter, Elizabeth, who has the mind of a
 
   scientist, the heart of a saint, the determination of a champion, and
 
   the twinkle of a true Irishman.
 
 
 
   Oh, how you inspire me.
 
 
 
   This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and
 
   incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used
 
   fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons,
 
   living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
 
 
 
   g POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of the
 
   Americas, New York, NY 10020
 
 
 
   Copyright (C) 1997 by Julie Garwood All rights reserved, including the
 
   right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form
 
   whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the
 
   Americas, New York, NY 10020
 
 
 
   ISBN: 0-671-00333-X POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of
 
   Simon & Schuster Inc. Printed in the U.S.A.
 
 
 
 
   Ac1cnowledgments A special thanks to the following: To Jo Ann for
 
   keeping me accurate, focused, and on track . . . and for putting up
 
   with me.
 
 
 
   To my agent, Andrea Cirillo, and my editor, Linda Marrow, for believing
 
   in my dreams . . . and for never saying the word "impossible." And,
 
   to all the readers who fell in love with the Claybornes and encouraged
 
   me to continue their story. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
 
 
 
 
 
   @ For winters rains and ruins are over, And all the seasons of snows
 
   and sins, The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the
 
   night that wins, And time remembered is grief forgotten, And frosts are
 
   slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by
 
   blossom the spring begins.
 
 
 
   From Atalanta in Calydon Algernon Charles Swinburne
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   But for the grace of God and an untied shoelace, she would have died
 
   with the others that day. She walked into the bank at precisely two
 
   forty-five in the afternoon to close her account, deliberately leaving the
 
   task until the last possible minute because it made everything so final in
 
   her mind. There would be no going back. All of her possessions had
 
   been packed, and very soon now she would be leaving Rockford Falls,
 
   Montana, forever.
 
 
 
   Sherman MacCorkle, the bank president, would lock the doors in fifteen
 
   minutes. The lobby was filled with other procrastinators like herself,
 
   yet for all the customers, there were only two tellers working the
 
   windows instead of the usual three. Emmeline MacCorkle, Sherman's
 
   daughter, was apparently still at home recovering from the influenza
 
   that had swept through the peaceful little town two weeks before.
 
 
 
   Malcolm Watterson's line was shorter by three heads. He was a
 
   notorious gossip, though, and would surely ask her questions she wasn't
 
   prepared to answer.
 
 
 
   Fortunately Franklin Carroll was working today, and she immediately
 
   took her place in the back of his line. He was quick, methodical, and
 
   never intruded into anyone's personal affairs. He was also a friend.
 
 
 
   She had already told him good-bye after services last Sunday, but she
 
   had the sudden inclination to do so again.
 
 
 
   She hated waiting. Tapping her foot softly against the warped
 
   floorboards, she took her gloves off, then put them back on again.
 
 
 
   Each time she fidgeted, her purse, secured by a satin ribbon around her
 
   wrist, swung back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum keeping
 
   perfect time to the ticktock of the clock hanging on the wall behind
 
   the tellers' windows.
 
 
 
   The man in front of her took a step forward, but she stayed where she
 
   was, hoping to put some distance between them so that she wouldn't have
 
   to smell the sour sweat mixed with the pungent odor of fried sausage
 
   emanating from his filthy clothes.
 
 
 
   The man to her left in Malcolm's line smiled at her, letting her see
 
   the two missing teeth in the center of his grin. To discourage
 
   conversation, she gave him a quick nod and turned her gaze upward to
 
   the water stains on the ceiling.
 
 
 
   It was dank, musty, and horribly hot. She could feel the perspiration
 
   gathering at the nape of her neck and tugged on the collar of her
 
   starched blouse. Giving Franklin a sympathetic glance, she wondered
 
   how any of the employees could work all day in such a dark, gloomy,
 
   stifling tomb. She turned to the right and stared longingly at the
 
   three closed windows. Sunlight streaked through the finger-smudged
 
   glass, casting jagged splotches on the worn floorboards, and fragments
 
   of dust particles hung suspended in the stagnant air. If she had to
 
   wait much longer, she would incite Sherman MacCorkle's anger by
 
   marching over to the windows and throwing all of them open. She gave
 
   up the idea as soon as it entered her mind because the president would
 
   only close them again and give her a stern lecture about bank
 
   security.
 
 
 
   Besides, she would lose her place in line.
 
 
 
   It was finally her turn. Hurrying forward, she stumbled and bumped her
 
   head against the glass of the teller's window. Her shoe had come
 
   off.
 
 
 
   She shoved her foot back inside and felt the tongue coil under her
 
   toes. Behind the tellers, dour-faced Sherman MacCorkle's door was
 
   open. He heard the commotion and looked up at her from his desk behind
 
   a glass partition. She gave him a weak smile before turning her
 
   attention to Franklin.
 
 
 
   "My shoelace came untied, " she said in an attempt to explain her
 
   clumsiness.
 
 
 
   He nodded sympathetically. "Are you all ready to leave? " "Just
 
   about, " she whispered so that Malcolm, the busybody, wouldn't poke his
 
   nose into the conversation. He was already leaning toward Frank, and
 
   she knew he was itching to hear the particulars.
 
 
 
   "I'll miss you, " Franklin blurted out.
 
 
 
   The confession brought a blush that stained his neck and cheeks.
 
 
 
   Franklin's shyness was an endearing quality, and when the tall, deathly
 
   thin man swallowed, his oversized Adam's apple bobbed noticeably. He
 
   was at least twenty years her senior, yet he acted like a young boy
 
   whenever he was near her.
 
 
 
   "I'm going to miss you too, Franklin."
 
 
 
   "Are you going to close your account now? " She nodded as she pushed
 
   the folded papers through the arched, fist-sized opening. "I hope
 
   everything's in order." He busied himself with the paperwork, checking
 
   signatures and numbers, and then opened his cash drawer and began to
 
   count out the money.
 
 
 
   "Four hundred and two dollars is an awful lot of money to be carrying
 
   around."
 
 
 
   "Yes, I know it is, " she agreed. "I'll keep a close eye on it. Don't
 
   worry." She removed her gloves while he stacked the bills, and when he
 
   pushed the money through the opening, she stuffed it into her cloth
 
   purse and pulled the strings tight.
 
 
 
   Franklin cast his employer a furtive glance before leaning forward and
 
   pressing his forehead against the glass. "Church won't be the same
 
   without you sitting in the pew in front of Mother and me. I wish you
 
   weren't leaving. Mother would eventually warm up to you.
 
 
 
   I'm sure of it." She reached through the opening and impulsively
 
   squeezed his hand. "In the short while that I have lived here, you
 
   have become such a good friend. I won't ever forget your kindness to
 
   me."
 
 
 
   "Will you write? " "Yes, of course I will."
 
 
 
   "Send your letters to the bank so Mother won't see them." She
 
   smiled.
 
 
 
   "Yes, I'll do that." A discreet cough told her she'd lingered too
 
   long.
 
 
 
   She picked up her gloves and purse and turned around, searching for a
 
   spot out of the traffic where she could retie her shoelace. There was
 
   an empty desk in the alcove beyond the swinging gate that separated the
 
   customers from the employees. Lemont Morganstaff usually sat there,
 
   but like Emmeline MacCorkle, he too was still recovering from the
 
   epidemic.
 
 
 
   She dragged her foot so she wouldn't step out of her shoe again as she
 
   made her way across the lobby to the decrepit, scarred desk in front of
 
   the windows. Franklin had confided that MacCorkle had purchased all
 
   the furniture thirdhand from a printer's shop. His thrifty nature had
 
   obviously compelled him to overlook the ink stains blotting the wood
 
   and the protruding splinters lying in wait for an uncautious finger.
 
 
 
   It was sinful the way MacCorkle treated his employees. She knew for a
 
   fact that he didn't pay any of his loyal staff a fair wage, because
 
   poor Franklin lived a very modest life and could barely afford to keep
 
   his mother in the medicinal tonic she seemed to thrive on.
 
 
 
   She had a notion to go into MacCorkle's brand-spankingnew office, with
 
   its shiny mahogany desk and matching file cabinets, and tell him what a
 
   cheapskate he was in hopes of shaming him into doing something about
 
   the deplorable conditions he forced his staff to endure, and she surely
 
   would have done just that if it hadn't been for the possibility that
 
   MacCorkle would think Franklin had put her up to it. The president
 
   knew they were friends. No, she didn't dare say a word, and so she
 
   settled on giving MacCorkle a look of pure disgust instead.
 
 
 
   It was a wasted effort, he was looking the other way. She promptly
 
   turned her back to him and pulled out the desk chair. Dropping her
 
   things down on the seat, she genuflected in as ladylike a fashion as
 
   she could and pushed her petticoats out of her way. She adjusted the
 
   tongue of her shoe, slipped her foot back inside, and quickly retied
 
   the stiff shoelace.
 
 
 
   The chore completed, she tried to stand up but stepped on her skirt
 
   instead and was jerked back to the floor, landing with a thud. Her
 
   purse and gloves spilled into her lap as the chair she'd bumped went
 
   flying backward on its rollers. It slammed into the wall, rolled back,
 
   and struck her shoulder. Embarrassed by her awkwardness, she peered
 
   over the top of the desk to see if anyone had noticed.
 
 
 
   There were three customers left at the tellers' windows, all of them
 
   gaping in her direction. Franklin had only just finished filing her
 
   documents in the file cabinet behind him when she fell. He slammed the
 
   file drawer closed and started toward her with a worried frown on his
 
   face, but she smiled and waved him back. She was just about to tell
 
   him she was quite all right when the front door burst open with a
 
   bang.
 
 
 
   The clock chimed three o'clock. Seven men stormed inside and fanned
 
   out across the lobby. No one could mistake their intentions. Dark
 
   bandannas concealed the lower part of their faces, and their hats, worn
 
   low on their brows, shaded their eyes. As each man moved forward, he
 
   drew his gun. The last one to enter spun around to pull the shades and
 
   bolt the door.
 
 
 
   Every one in the bank froze except for Sherman MacCorkle, who rose up
 
   in his chair, a startled cry of alarm issuing through his pinched
 
   lips.
 
 
 
   Then Franklin screamed in a highpitched soprano shriek that
 
   reverberated through the eerie silence.
 
 
 
   Like the others, she was too stunned to move. A wave of panic washed
 
   through her, constricting every muscle. She desperately tried to grasp
 
   control of her thoughts. Don't panic . . . don't panic . . . They
 
   can't shoot us . . . They wouldn't dare shoot us. . . The noise of
 
   gunfire. . . They want money, that's all . . . If everyone
 
   cooperates, they won't hurt us. . . .
 
 
 
   Her logic didn't help calm her racing heartbeat. They would take her
 
   four hundred dollars. And that was unacceptable. She couldn't let
 
   them have the money . . . wouldn't. But how could she stop them? She
 
   took the wad of bills out of her purse and frantically searched for a
 
   place to hide it. Think . . . think. . . . She leaned to the side
 
   and looked up at Franklin. He was staring at the robbers, but he must
 
   have felt her watching him for he tilted his head downward ever so
 
   slightly. It dawned on her then that the gunmen didn't know she was
 
   there. She hesitated for the barest of seconds, her gaze intent on
 
   Franklin's pale face, and then silently squeezed herself into the
 
   kneehole of the ancient desk. Quickly unbuttoning her blouse, she
 
   shoved the money under her chemise and flattened her hands against her
 
   chest.
 
 
 
   Oh, God, oh, God . . . One of them was walking toward the desk. She
 
   could hear his footsteps getting closer and closer. Her petticoats!
 
 
 
   They were spread out like a white flag of surrender. She frantically
 
   grabbed them and shoved them under her knees. Her heart pounded like a
 
   drum now, and she was terrified that all of them could hear the
 
   noise.
 
 
 
   If they didn't spot her, they would leave her money alone.
 
 
 
   A blur of snakeskin boots, spurs rattling, passed within inches. The
 
   smell of peppermint trailed behind. The scent shocked herţchildren
 
   smelled like peppermint, not criminals. Don't let him see me, she
 
   prayed. Please, God, don't let him see me. She wanted to squeeze her
 
   eyes shut and disappear. She heard the shades being pulled down,
 
   sucking out the sunlight, and she was suddenly assaulted with the
 
   claustrophobic feeling that she was in a casket and the man was pushing
 
   the lid down on top of her.
 
 
 
   Bare seconds had passed since they'd entered the bank. It would be
 
   over soon, she told herself. Soon. They wanted only the money,
 
   nothing more, and they would surely hurry to get out as quickly as
 
   possible. Yes, of course they would. With every second that they
 
   lingered, they increased the odds of being captured.
 
 
 
   Could they see her through the cracks in the desk? The possibility was
 
   too frightening. There was a half-inch split in the seam of the wood
 
   all the way down the center panel, and she slowly shifted her position
 
   until her knees were rubbing against the drawer above her head. The
 
   air was thick, heavy. It made her want to gag. She took a shallow
 
   breath through her mouth and tilted her head to the side so she could
 
   see through the slit.
 
 
 
   Across the room the three gray-faced customers stood motionless, their
 
   backs pressed against the counter. One of the robbers stepped
 
   forward.
 
 
 
   He was dressed in a black suit and white shirt, similar to the clothing
 
   the bank president wore. Had he not been wearing a mask and holding a
 
   gun, he would have looked like any other businessman.
 
 
 
   He was terribly polite and soft-spoken.
 
 
 
   "Gentlemen, there isn't any need to be frightened, " he began in a
 
   voice that reeked with southern hospitality. "As long as you do as I
 
   say, no one will get hurt. We happened to hear from a friend of ours
 
   about a large government deposit for the army boys, and we thought we
 
   might like to help ourselves to their pay. I'll grant you we aren't
 
   being very gentlemanly, and I'm sure you're feeling mighty
 
   inconvenienced. I'm real sorry about that. Mr. Bell, please put the
 
   Closed sign in the window behind the shades." The leader gave the
 
   order to the man on his right, who quickly did as he was told.
 
 
 
   "That's fine, just fine, " the leader said. "Now, gentlemen, I would
 
   like all of you to stack your hands on top of your heads and come on
 
   out here into the lobby so I wonXt have to worry that one of you is
 
   going to do anything foolish. Don't be shy, Mr. President. Come on
 
   out of your office and join your friends and neighbors." She heard the
 
   shuffle of feet as the men moved forward. The gate squeaked as it
 
   opened.
 
 
 
   "That was nice and orderly." The leader oozed the praise when his
 
   command was promptly followed. "You did just fine, but I have one more
 
   request to make. Will all of you please kneel down? Now, now, keep
 
   your hands on your heads. You don't want me to worry, do you? Mr.
 
   Bell would like to lay you out on the floor and tie you up, but I don't
 
   think that will be necessary. No need to get your nice clothes
 
   dirty.
 
 
 
   Just squeeze yourselves together in a tight little circle. That's
 
   fine, just fine, " he praised once again.
 
 
 
   "The safe's open, sir, " one of the others called out.
 
 
 
   "Go to it, son, " he called back.
 
 
 
   The man in charge turned to the desk, and she saw his eyes clearly.
 
 
 
   They were brown with golden streaks through them, like marbles, cold,
 
   unfeeling. The man named Bell was coughing, and the leader turned away
 
   from her to look at his accomplice.
 
 
 
   "Why don't you lean against the railing and let the others take care of
 
   filling up the bags. My friend's feeling poorly today, " he told the
 
   captives.
 
 
 
   "Maybe he's got the influenza, " Malcolm suggested in an
 
   eager-to-please voice.
 
 
 
   "I'm afraid you might be right, " the leader agreed. "It's a pity
 
   because he so enjoys his work, but today he isn't up to entertaining
 
   himself. Isn't that right, Mr. Bell? " "Yes, sir, " his cohort
 
   said.
 
 
 
   "Are you about finished, Mr. Robertson? " "We got it all, sir. "
 
   "Don't forget the cash in the drawers, " he reminded him.
 
 
 
   "We've got that too, sir.
 
 
 
   "Looks like our business is almost finished here. Mr. Johnson, will
 
   you please make sure the back door isn't going to give us any
 
   trouble?
 
 
 
   " "I've already seen to it, sir."
 
 
 
   "It's time to finish up, then." She heard the others moving back into
 
   the lobby, their heels clicking against the floorboards with the
 
   precision of telegraph equipment. One of them was snickering.
 
 
 
   The man in charge had turned away from her, but she could see the
 
   others clearly now. All of them stood behind the circle of captives.
 
 
 
   While she watched, they removed their bandannas and tucked them into
 
   their pockets. The leader took a step forward, then put his gun away
 
   so he could carefully fold his bandanna and put it in his vest
 
   pocket.
 
 
 
   He stood close enough for her to see his long fingers and his carefully
 
   manicured nails.
 
 
 
   Why had they removed their masks? Didn't they realize that Franklin
 
   and the others would give the authorities their descriptions . . . Oh,
 
   God, no . . . no . . . no . . .
 
 
 
   "Is the back door open, Mr. Johnson? " "Yes, sir, it is."
 
 
 
   "Well, then I expect it's time to leave. Whose turn is it? " he
 
   asked.
 
 
 
   "Mr. Bell hasn't taken a turn since that little girl. Remember,
 
   sir?
 
 
 
   " "I remember. Are you up to it today, Mr. Bell? " "Yes, sir, I
 
   believe I am."
 
 
 
   "Then get on with it, " he ordered as he drew his gun and cocked it.
 
 
 
   "What are you going to do? " the president asked in a near shout.
 
 
 
   "Hush now. I told you no one would get hurt, didn't I? " His voice
 
   was horrifically soothing. MacCorkle was nodding when the man named
 
   Bell fired his shot. The front of the president's head exploded.
 
 
 
   The leader killed the man in front of him, jumping back when the blood
 
   from the wound he'd inflicted spewed out.
 
 
 
   Franklin cried, "But you promised . . .
 
 
 
   The leader whirled toward him and shot him in the back the head.
 
 
 
   Franklin's neck snapped.
 
 
 
   "I lied."
 
 
 
   The ceremony was unique. The guest of honor, Cole
 
   Clayborne, slept through it and the celebration that followed. An hour
 
   after most of the guests had departed, the effect of the unnatural
 
   sleep was wearing off.
 
 
 
   In a stupor, he floated somewhere between fantasy and reality. He felt
 
   someone tugging on him, but he couldn't summon enough strength to open
 
   his eyes and find out who was tormenting him. The noise was making his
 
   head ache fiercely, and when he finally began to wake up, the first
 
   sounds he heard were the clinking of glasses and loud, rambunctious
 
   laughter.
 
 
 
   Someone was speaking to him, or about him. He heard his name, yet he
 
   found it impossible to concentrate long enough to understand what was
 
   being said. His head felt as though there were little men inside,
 
   standing between his eyes, pounding his skull with sharp hammers.
 
 
 
   Was he hung over? The question intruded into his hazy thoughts. No,
 
   he never got drunk when he was away from Rosehill, and even when he was
 
   home, he rarely had more than an occasional beer in the heat of the
 
   afternoon. He didn't like the aftereffects. Liquor, he'd learned the
 
   hard way, dulled the senses and the reflexes, and with half the
 
   gunslingers in the territory wanting to build their reputations by
 
   killing him in a shoot-out, he wasn't about to drink anything more
 
   dulling than water.
 
 
 
   Someone was having a mighty fine time. He heard laughter again and
 
   tried to turn his head toward the sound. Pain shot up from the base of
 
   his neck, causing bile to rush to his throat. Ah, Lord, he felt like
 
   hell.
 
 
 
   "Looks like he's coming around, Josey. You'd best get on back home
 
   before he starts growling and spewing. You're liable to get your
 
   feelings hurt." Sheriff Tom Norton stared through the bars of the cell
 
   while he addressed his wife of thirty years.
 
 
 
   Josey Norton scurried away before Cole could get his eyes focused. It
 
   took him a minute to realize where he was. He gritted his teeth as he
 
   sat up on the narrow cot and swung his legs to the floor. His hands
 
   gripped the mattress and his head dropped to his chest.
 
 
 
   He studied the sheriff through bloodshot eyes. Norton was an older man
 
   with weather-beaten skin, a potbelly, and melancholy eyes. He looked
 
   like a harmless hound dog.
 
 
 
   "Why am I in jail? " The question was issued in a sharp whisper.
 
 
 
   The sheriff leaned against the bars, crossed one ankle over the other,
 
   and smiled. "You broke the law, son."
 
 
 
   "How? " "Disturbing the peace."
 
 
 
   "What? " "No need to shout. I can see it pained you.
 
 
 
   You've got a nice bump on the back of your head, and I don't suppose
 
   yelling is gonna make you feel better. Don't you remember what
 
   happened? " Cole shook his head and immediately regretted it. Pain
 
   exploded behind his eyes.
 
 
 
   "I remember being sick."
 
 
 
   "Yes, you had the influenza. You were sick with fever for four days,
 
   and my Josey nursed you back to health.
 
 
 
   Today was your second day out of bed."
 
 
 
   "When did I disturb the peace?
 
 
 
   " "When you crossed the street, " he said cheerfully. "It was real
 
   disturbing to me, the way you walked away while I was trying so hard to
 
   convince you to stay in Middleton until the appointment came through.
 
 
 
   I gave my word to someone real important that I would keep you here,
 
   son, but you wouldn't cooperate."
 
 
 
   "So you hit me over the head."
 
 
 
   "Yes, I did, " he admitted. "I didn't see any other way. It wasn't
 
   much of a hit though, just a little thump with the butt of my pistol on
 
   the back of your head. No permanent damage was done, or you wouldn't
 
   be sitting there growling at me.
 
 
 
   Besides, I did you a favor." The sheriff's chipper voice was grating
 
   on Cole's nerves. He glared at him and asked, "How do you figure
 
   that?
 
 
 
   " "There were two gunslingers waiting for you to get into the street.
 
 
 
   Both of them were determined to make you drawţone at a time, of
 
   course.
 
 
 
   You were just getting over your sick spell, and even though you won't
 
   admit it, I'd wager a week's pay you weren't well enough to take either
 
   one of them on. The influenza hit you hard, son, and you're only just
 
   now getting your color back. Yes sirree, I did you a favor."
 
 
 
   "It's all coming back to me."
 
 
 
   "Put it behind you, " he suggested." Cause it's water under the sink
 
   now. The appointment came through, and we had us a nice ceremony right
 
   here in the jail. It seemed kind of odd to file into your cell for a
 
   big do, but the judge didn't mind and it worked out all right. Yes, it
 
   did.
 
 
 
   Too bad you had to sleep through the celebration, since you were the
 
   honoree and all. My wife, Josey, made her special yellow cake with
 
   sugar icing. She cut you a nice big piece and left it on the table
 
   over there, " he added with a nod toward the opposite side of the
 
   cell.
 
 
 
   "You'd best eat it before the mice get to it.
 
 
 
   Cole was becoming more frustrated by the second. Most of what the
 
   sheriff was telling him didn't make any sense. "Answer my questions, "
 
   he demanded. "You said that someone important wanted to keep me
 
   here.
 
 
 
   Who was it? " "Marshal Daniel Ryan, that's who. He should be along
 
   any minute now to let you out."
 
 
 
   "Ryan's here? That no-good, low-down, thievingţ" "Hold on now. There
 
   ain't no need to carry on.
 
 
 
   The marshal told me you've been bearing a grudge against him. He said
 
   it had something to do with a compass and gold case he's been keeping
 
   safe for you." Cole's head was rapidly clearing. "My mother was
 
   bringing me the compass, and Ryan stole it from her. He doesn't have
 
   any intention of giving it back. I'm going to have to take it from
 
   him."
 
 
 
   "I think you might be wrong about that, " Norton said with a chuckle.
 
 
 
   It was futile to argue with him. Cole decided to save his wrath for
 
   the man who was responsible for locking him up . . . Daniel Ryan. He
 
   couldn't wait to get his hands on him.
 
 
 
   "Are you going to let me out of here and give me my guns back? " "I'd
 
   surely like to."
 
 
 
   "But? " "But I can't, " the sheriff said. "Ryan's got the keys. I've
 
   got to take some papers across town to the judge, so why don't you sit
 
   tight and eat some cake? I shouldn't be gone long." The sheriff
 
   turned to leave. "One more thing, " he drawled out.
 
 
 
   "Congratulations, son. I'm sure you'll do your family proud."
 
 
 
   "Wait!
 
 
 
   " Cole called out. "Why are you congratulating me? " Norton didn't
 
   answer him. He sauntered into the outer office, and a minute later
 
   Cole heard the front door open and close. He shook his head in
 
   confusion. He didn't know what the old man had been rambling on
 
   about.
 
 
 
   Why would he congratulate him?
 
 
 
   He glanced around the stark cellţgray walls, gray bars, and gray
 
   floor.
 
 
 
   On a three-legged stand in the corner was a grayspeckled basin and a
 
   water jug next to the piece of cake the sheriff's wife had left for
 
   him. The only other adornment was the black spider crawling up the
 
   painted stones of the wall. There was another one hanging from its web
 
   in the barred windowsill high up by the ceiling.
 
 
 
   Cole was over six feet tall, but in order to look out, he would have to
 
   stand on a chair. There weren't any inside the cell. He could see a
 
   fragment of the sky, though, and like his temporary home, it too was
 
   gray.
 
 
 
   The color fit his mood. He was in a no-win situation. He couldn't
 
   very well shoot Norton, since his wife had nursed him back to health.
 
 
 
   The sheriff had probably saved his life, as well, by knocking him out
 
   before the gunslingers had challenged him. Cole remembered the
 
   influenza had left him weak and shaky. He would have died in a
 
   gunfight all right, but damn it all, did Norton have to hit him so
 
   hard? His head still felt as if it had been split in two.
 
 
 
   He reached up to rub the knot in the back of his neck, and his right
 
   arm bumped against cold metal. He looked down, then froze when he
 
   realized what he was staring at. A gold case dangled from a chain
 
   someoneţRyan most likelyţhad clipped to the pocket of his leather
 
   vest.
 
 
 
   The son of a bitch had finally given him his treasure back. He gently
 
   lifted the precious disk into the palm of his hand and stared at it a
 
   long minute before opening it. The compass was made of brass, not
 
   gold, but it was still finely crafted. The face was white, the letters
 
   red, the dial black. He removed it from its case, smiling as he
 
   watched the dial wobble back and forth before pointing north.
 
 
 
   His Mama Rose was going to be pleased to know that he had finally
 
   gotten the gift she'd purchased for him over a year ago. It was a
 
   handsome treasure. He couldn't find a nick or a scratch anywhere.
 
 
 
   Ryan had obviously taken good care of it, he grudgingly admitted. He
 
   still wanted to shoot the bastard for keeping it so long, but he knew
 
   he couldn't if he wanted to stay alive a little longerţkilling marshals
 
   was frowned on in the territory, no matter what the reasonţand so Cole
 
   decided to settle on punching him in the nose instead.
 
 
 
   Carefully tucking the compass into his vest pocket, he glanced over at
 
   the pitcher and decided to splash some water on his face. His gaze
 
   settled on the piece of cake, and he focused on it while he tried to
 
   sort fact from dream Why were they eating cake in his cell? The
 
   question seemed too complicated to think about now. He stood up so he
 
   could stretch his knotted muscles and was about to take off his vest
 
   when his sleeve caught on something sharp. Pulling his arm free, he
 
   glanced down to see what was jabbing him.
 
 
 
   His hands dropped to his knees as he fell back on the cot and stared
 
   down at his left shoulder in disbelief. He was stupefied It had to be
 
   a jokeţbut someone had a real warped sense of humor. Then Sheriff
 
   Norton's words came back to him. The appointment had come through .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   . Yeah, that's what he'd said . . . And they celebrated . . . Cole
 
   remembered Norton had said that too.
 
 
 
   And Cole was the honoree . . .
 
 
 
   '{Son of a bitch! " He roared the blasphemy at the silver star pinned
 
   to his vest.
 
 
 
   He was a U. S. marshal.
 
 
 
   gy the time Sheriff Norton returned to the jail, Cole was seething
 
   with anger. Fortunately, Norton had gotten the keys from Ryan. His
 
   wife, Josey, was with him, and for that reason Cole kept his temper
 
   under control. She carried a tray covered with a
 
   blue-and-white-striped napkin, and as soon as the sheriff swung the
 
   door open, she brought the food inside the cell.
 
 
 
   Norton made the introductions. "You two haven't officially met, since
 
   you were burning up with fever every time my Josey got near you.
 
 
 
   Josey, this here is Marshal Cole Clayborne. He doesn't know about it
 
   yet, but he's gonna be helping Marshal Ryan chase down that slippery
 
   Blackwater gang of murderers terrorizing the territory. Cole . . .
 
 
 
   You don't mind if I get familiar and call you by your first name, do
 
   you? " "No, sir, I don't mind." The sheriff beamed with pleasure.
 
 
 
   "That's mighty nice of you, considering the inconvenience you must be
 
   feeling over getting yourself thumped on the head. Anyway, as I was
 
   saying, this pretty lady blushing next to me is my wife, Josey. She
 
   fretted over you something fierce while you were ill. Do you
 
   remember?
 
 
 
   " Cole had stood up as soon as Josey entered the cell. He moved
 
   forward, nodded to her in greeting, and said, "Of course I remember.
 
 
 
   Ma'am, I appreciate you coming by the hotel and looking after me while
 
   I was so sick. I hope I wasn't too much trouble." Josey was a rather
 
   plain-looking woman, with round shoulders and crooked teeth, but when
 
   she smiled, she lit up the room. Folks tended to want to smile back,
 
   and Cole was no exception. His smile was genuine, as was his
 
   appreciation.
 
 
 
   "A lot of people wouldn't have taken the trouble to nurse a stranger, "
 
   he added.
 
 
 
   "You weren't any trouble at all, " she replied. "You lost a little
 
   weight, but my chicken ought to put the fat back on you. I brought
 
   some from home."
 
 
 
   "My Josey makes mighty fine fried chicken, " Norton interjected with a
 
   nod toward the basket his wife carried.
 
 
 
   "I felt I ought to do something to make up for my husband's
 
   orneriness.
 
 
 
   Thomas shouldn't have knocked you out the way he did, especially since
 
   you were feeling so puny and all. Does your head pain you? " "No,
 
   ma'am, " he lied.
 
 
 
   She turned to her husband. "Those two no-good gunslingers are still
 
   hanging around. I spotted both of them on my way here. One's
 
   squatting north of our avenue and the other's due south. Are you going
 
   to do something about it before this boy gets himself killed? " Norton
 
   rubbed his jaw. "I expect Marshal Ryan will have a talk with them. "
 
   "He doesn't seem the talking type, " Josey replied.
 
 
 
   "Ma'am, those gunslingers want me, " Cole said. "I'll talk to them. "
 
   "Son, they don't want to talk. They're itching to build their
 
   reputations, and the only way they can do that is if one of them shoots
 
   you in a draw. Just don't let them aggravate you into doing anything
 
   foolish, " Norton said.
 
 
 
   Josey nodded her agreement, then turned to her husband again. "Where
 
   do you want me to lay out the plates? " "It's too stuffy to eat in
 
   here, " Norton said. "Why don't you put it all out on my desk? " Cole
 
   waited until Josey had gone into the outer room before speaking to the
 
   sheriff again. "Where's Ryan? " "He'll be along soon. He was headed
 
   here, but then he got called over to the telegraph office to pick up a
 
   wire. I expect you're anxious to have a word with him." Cole
 
   nodded.
 
 
 
   He kept his temper under control by reminding himself that the sheriff
 
   had only done Ryan's bidding. It was the marshal who'd ordered Norton
 
   to keep Cole in town, and it was also the marshal who'd pinned the star
 
   on his vest. Cole had in mind another place for the badge. He thought
 
   he might like to pin it to the center of Ryan's forehead. The thought
 
   so amused him, he smiled.
 
 
 
   Josey had removed the papers from the desk and covered it with a
 
   red-and-white tablecloth. There were two chipped china dinner plates,
 
   white with blue butterflies painted on the rims, and two matching
 
   coffee cups. In the center of the desk was a platter of fried chicken
 
   sitting in a thick puddle of grease, along with bowls of boiled turnips
 
   with their hairy roots, like gauze, still wrapped around them,
 
   congealed gravy that resembled day-old biscuit dough, pickled beets,
 
   and black-bottomed rolls.
 
 
 
   It was the most unappealing meal Cole had ever seen. His stomach,
 
   still tender from the influenza, lurched in reaction to the smell.
 
 
 
   Since Josey had already left, Cole didn't have to be concerned that his
 
   lack of appetite would offend her.
 
 
 
   The sheriff took his seat behind the desk and motioned for Cole to pull
 
   up another chair. After pouring coffee for both of them, he leaned
 
   back and pointed to the spread. "I might as well warn you before you
 
   get started. My wife means well, but she never quite got the knack for
 
   cooking. She seems to think she's got to fry everything up in a kettle
 
   of lard. I wouldn't touch that gravy if I were you. It's a killer. "
 
   "I'm really not hungry, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   The sheriff laughed. "You're gonna be a mighty fine marshal'cause
 
   you're so diplomatic." Patting his distended belly, he added, "I've
 
   gotten used to my Josey's cooking, but it's taken me close to thirty
 
   years to do it. There was a time or two I thought she was trying to do
 
   me in." Cole drank his coffee while Norton ate two large helpings of
 
   food. When the older man was finished, he restacked the dishes inside
 
   the basket, covered it with his soiled napkin, and stood up.
 
 
 
   "I believe I'll mosey on down to Frieda's restaurant and get me a piece
 
   of her pecan pie. You want to come along? " "No, thank you. I'll
 
   wait here for Ryan." One thought led to another.
 
 
 
   "What did you do with my guns? " "They're in the bottom drawer of my
 
   desk. That's a right nice gunbelt you've got. It makes it easy to get
 
   to your guns, doesn't it? I expect that's why Marshal Ryan wears
 
   one.
 
 
 
   " As soon as the sheriff was out the door, Cole got his gunbelt out and
 
   put it on. All of the bullets for the two six-shooters had been
 
   removed.
 
 
 
   He scooped them up, filled the chambers of one gun, and was working on
 
   the second when Norton came rushing back inside.
 
 
 
   "I expect Marshal Ryan could use your help. Those two gunslingers are
 
   waiting at both ends of my street, and he's strolling right smack
 
   across the middle. He's gonna get himself killed." Cole shook his
 
   head. "They want me, not Ryan, " he said as he slammed the loading
 
   chamber into place and shoved the gun in his holster.
 
 
 
   "But that's the problem, son. Ryan ain't gonna let them have you. If
 
   one of them kills you, then you won't be able to help him get the
 
   Blackwater gang, and he's said more than once he needs your special
 
   kind of help." Cole didn't have the faintest idea what the sheriff was
 
   talking about.
 
 
 
   What special kind of help could he give? He guessed he was about to
 
   find out, though. His suggestion that the sheriff remain inside was
 
   met with resistance.
 
 
 
   "Son, I can lend a hand. Granted, it's been a while since I've been in
 
   a shoot-out, but I figure it's like drinking out of a cup.
 
 
 
   Once you've learned how, you never forget. I used to be considered
 
   quick with a pistol too." Cole shook his head. "Like I said, they
 
   want me, but thanks for the offer." Norton rushed forward to open the
 
   door for him, and before Cole stepped outside, he heard the older man
 
   whisper, "Good luck to you." ţLuck didn't have anything to do with
 
   it.
 
 
 
   Years of hard living had prepared Cole for these annoying nuisances.
 
 
 
   Cole took everything in at once. The gunslingers were waiting at
 
   opposite ends of the dirt street but he didn't recognize either one of
 
   them. Gunslingers all looked the same to himţGod, how many had there
 
   been, chasing after the empty dream of being the fastest gun in the
 
   West? Dressed alike in leather chaps, the two men shifted from foot to
 
   foot, letting Cole see their eagerness. They weren't boys, which was
 
   going to make killing them easier, Cole supposed. He had already
 
   figured out exactly how he would do it. The plan called for him to hit
 
   the dirtţbut damn, he really hated diving and rolling around in the
 
   mud, especially today, since his stomach was acting so persnickety.
 
 
 
   Still, he would do what he had to do in order to survive.
 
 
 
   Marshal Ryan was the fly in his ointment, however. The lawman was
 
   standing stock-still in the center of the street, and that would put
 
   him right in the middle of the gunfire.
 
 
 
   Cole was about to call out to him when Ryan motioned for him to come
 
   forward. Keeping his hands down and loose at his sides so he wouldn't
 
   spook the eager-to-die gunslingers, he stepped off the boardwalk and
 
   headed for the marshal. His fingers itched to reach for his gun. He
 
   didn't particularly want to shoot the lawman, just hit him on the back
 
   of his head with the butt of a gun so Ryan would have an inkling of the
 
   pain Cole had endured because of his order to keep him in town.
 
 
 
   As he sauntered closer, the gunslingers, like rodents afraid of the
 
   light of day but craving the prize between them, edged forward.
 
 
 
   Cole decided to ignore them for the moment. He and Ryan were both safe
 
   . . . until one of the gunslingers went for his gun. The challengers
 
   were there to build their reputations, and the only way they could do
 
   that would be to shoot it out in a draw with witnesses watching. Fair
 
   and square. Otherwise, the kill didn't count.
 
 
 
   Sheriff Norton peered through the crack of the doorway, watching. He
 
   smiled at the sight before him, for it was something to behold, and
 
   remember. The two marshals, both as big and mean-looking as Goliath,
 
   were sizing each other up like contenders in a boxing ring. They made
 
   a striking pair, just like Josey said. She'd been afraid of Daniel
 
   Ryan when she'd first met him, and later on she'd had the very same
 
   reaction when she met Cole Clayborne, though she did a decent job of
 
   masking it.
 
 
 
   The two marshals spooked her, she'd confessed, and Norton remembered
 
   vividly her exact words when she'd tried to explain why she felt the
 
   way she did. "It's in their eyes. They've both got that cold,
 
   piercing stare, like icicles going right through a body. I get the
 
   feeling they're looking into my head and know what I'm thinking before
 
   I do." She also admitted that, in spite of her timidity, she couldn't
 
   help but notice what handsome men they were . . . as long as they
 
   didn't stare directly at her.
 
 
 
   Cole shouted to Ryan, drawing the sheriff's full attention.
 
 
 
   "Get the hell out of the street, Ryan. You're going to get killed. "
 
   The marshal didn't budge. His eyes narrowed as Cole moved closer.
 
 
 
   Cole stopped when he was a couple of feet away. He stared into Ryan's
 
   eyes.
 
 
 
   Ryan stared back. He was the first to break the silence. "Are you
 
   thinking about shooting me? " There was a hint of laughter in his
 
   voice Cole didn't particularly like. "The idea crossed my mind, but
 
   I've got other things to worry about now. Unless you want to catch a
 
   stray bullet, I suggest you move."
 
 
 
   "Someone's going to die, but it isn't going to be me, " Ryan announced
 
   in a lazy drawl.
 
 
 
   "You think you can take both of them? " Cole asked with a nod toward
 
   the gunslinger on his left, who was slowly creeping closer.
 
 
 
   "I'll find out soon enough."
 
 
 
   "They want me, not you."
 
 
 
   "I'm just as fast, Cole."
 
 
 
   "No, you're not." Ryan's smile took Cole by surprise, and he would
 
   have asked Ryan why he was so amused if the gunslinger on his right
 
   hadn't shouted at him.
 
 
 
   "My name's Eagle, Clayborne, and I'm here to take you out. Turn and
 
   face me, you lily-livered bastard. I'm gonna draw on you, damn your
 
   hide." The competing gunslinger wasn't about to be left out. "My
 
   name's Riley, Clayborne, and I'm the man who's going to kill you. "
 
   The gunslingers Cole had encountered so far had all been stupid. This
 
   pair, he decided, wasnwt the exception.
 
 
 
   "I should probably do something about those two, " Ryan said.
 
 
 
   "Like what? Are you thinking about arresting them? " "Maybe." His
 
   casual attitude was irritating. "What kind of a marshal are you? " "A
 
   damned good one." Cole clenched his jaw. "You're sure full of
 
   yourself."
 
 
 
   "I know my strengths. I know yours, too." Cole's patience was gone.
 
 
 
   "Why don't you go on inside with the sheriff, and you can tell me all
 
   about your strengths after I'm finished here."
 
 
 
   "Are you telling me to get out of your way? " "Yeah, I am."
 
 
 
   "I'm not going anywhere. Besides, I've got a plan, " he said with a
 
   gesture toward one of the gunslingers.
 
 
 
   "I've got a plan too, Cole replied.
 
 
 
   "Mine's better."
 
 
 
   "Is that right? " "Yes. On the count of three, we both drop to the
 
   ground and let them kill each other." In spite of his dark mood, the
 
   picture Ryan painted made Cole grin.
 
 
 
   "That would be real nice if it worked, but neither one of them is close
 
   enough to hit the other. Besides, I'd get my new shirt all dirty
 
   dropping to the ground."
 
 
 
   "What's your plan? " Ryan asked.
 
 
 
   "Kill one, then dive, roll, and kill the other."
 
 
 
   "Seems to me you're going to get that brand-new shirt dirty with your
 
   plan too."
 
 
 
   "Are you going to get out of my way or not? " "Lawmen stand together,
 
   Cole.
 
 
 
   That's a real important rule to remember."
 
 
 
   "I'm not a lawman."
 
 
 
   "Yes, you are. You should be sworn in, but that's only a formality."
 
 
 
   "You've got a twisted sense of humor, Ryan.
 
 
 
   You know that? I'm not going to be a marshal."
 
 
 
   "You already are, " Ryan explained patiently.
 
 
 
   "Why? " "I need your help."
 
 
 
   "I think maybe you don't understand how I feel. I'm fighting the urge
 
   to shoot you, you son of a bitch. You kept my compass for over a
 
   year." Ryan wasn't at all intimidated by Cole's threat. "It took that
 
   long for the appointment to come through.
 
 
 
   " "What appointment? " "I couldn't just pin a badge on you, " Ryan
 
   said. "The appointment came from Washington." Cole shook his head.
 
 
 
   "They're moving in on us, " Ryan said. He rolled his eyes in Eagle's
 
   direction. "Do you know either of them? " "No."
 
 
 
   "I'll take the one at five o'clock." Cole started to turn, then
 
   stopped. "Your five or mine? " "Mine, " Ryan answered.
 
 
 
   They each turned to face an approaching gunfighter, then slowly stepped
 
   backward, stopping when they were shoulder to shoulder.
 
 
 
   "Don't shoot to kill."
 
 
 
   "You gotta be joking." Ryan ignored the comment. He shouted to the
 
   gunslingers to put their hands in the air and walk, slow and easy,
 
   toward him, but Eagle and Riley stayed where they were with their right
 
   hands hovering above their guns.
 
 
 
   "If you miss Riley, his bullet is going to go through you and hit me, "
 
   Cole said.
 
 
 
   "I never miss."
 
 
 
   "Arrogant bastard, " Cole whispered just as Eagle went for his gun.
 
 
 
   Cole reacted with lightning speed. The gunfighter didn't even get his
 
   weapon out of his holster before a bullet stabbed through the palm of
 
   his hand.
 
 
 
   Ryan fired at the same time. He shot the gun out of Riley's hand just
 
   as he was bringing his weapon up. The bullet cut through his wrist.
 
 
 
   Keeping their guns trained on their targets, the two marshals strode
 
   forward. Ryan reached Riley first. He removed his weapons, ignoring
 
   the man's squeals of agony, and prodded him toward Sheriff Norton's
 
   jail.
 
 
 
   Eagle was bellowing like a wounded boar. Much to Cole's frustration,
 
   he wouldn't stand still, but danced around in a gyrating jig.
 
 
 
   "You ruined my shooting hand, Clayborne. You ruined my shooting hand,
 
   " he screeched.
 
 
 
   "I heard you the first time, " Cole grumbled. "Stand still, damn it.
 
 
 
   I'm taking your guns." Eagle wouldn't comply, and Cole quickly tired
 
   of chasing him. He let out a sigh, grabbed hold of the gunslinger by
 
   his collar, and slammed his fist into his jaw, knocking him
 
   unconscious. He continued to hold him up until he'd removed his gun,
 
   then let him drop to the ground.
 
 
 
   Gripping the scruff of his neck, he dragged him to Norton.
 
 
 
   The sheriff was beaming at the two marshals from the boardwalk. "Guess
 
   I'll have to go get the doc to patch them two up, " he remarked.
 
 
 
   "Guess so, " Cole replied.
 
 
 
   The sheriff rushed back inside, snatched his keys off the desktop, and
 
   hurried on to unlock two cells. A moment later, the gunfighters were
 
   pushed inside.
 
 
 
   There wasn't time for the sheriff's congratulations, for no sooner had
 
   the cell door slammed shut than Ryan was called outside by the
 
   telegraph clerk. When Cole joined him on the boardwalk, one look at
 
   the marshal told Cole something bad had happened. He was surprised
 
   when Ryan handed the wire to him.
 
 
 
   Cole read the contents while Ryan gave the news to Sheriff Norton.
 
 
 
   "There's been another robbery." His voice was flat.
 
 
 
   Norton shook his head. "How many dead this time? " "Seven. will
 
   "Where did it happen? " Norton asked.
 
 
 
   "Rockford Falls."
 
 
 
   "That ain't far from here. I can tell you how to get there."
 
 
 
   "How far is it? " "About forty miles over some rough terrain."
 
 
 
   "You might want to keep your eyes open in case any of them pass through
 
   here again. I doubt they will, " Ryan added. "They've already hit
 
   this bank. Cole, are you riding with me? " He shook his head and
 
   handed the wire back to Ryan. "It's not my problem." Ryan said
 
   nothing. Squinting against the sunlight, his eyes narrowed and his
 
   brow wrinkled into a frown. Suddenly he grabbed hold of Cole's vest
 
   and shoved him backward off his feet. Before Cole could recover and
 
   retaliate his fingers were flexing into a fist Ryan stole his thunder
 
   by apologizing.
 
 
 
   "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I let my temper get the upper
 
   hand. Look, you're right. You didn't ask for any of this, and the
 
   robberies aren't your problem. They're mine. I just thought . . .
 
   hoped, anyway . . . that you would want to help. I won't accept your
 
   resignation, though. You're going to have to ride to the regional
 
   office and surrender your badge to the marshal there. Sheriff Norton
 
   will give you the directions. I've got to get going to Rockford Falls
 
   before the trail grows cold. No hard feelings? " he asked as he put
 
   his hand out.
 
 
 
   Cole shrugged and shook Ryan's hand. "No hard feelings." Ryan headed
 
   for the stable at a run. Cole watched him leave and then followed the
 
   sheriff inside the jail to find out where in tarnation the regional
 
   office was located.
 
 
 
   "If it isn't close-by, I'm sending the badge back, " he told the
 
   sheriff.
 
 
 
   Norton sat down heavily behind his desk and stacked his hands on top of
 
   his papers. "I don't think Marshal Ryan will cotton to that idea.
 
 
 
   Those badges are considered sacred, son. I wouldn't get him riled up
 
   if I was you. He went to considerable trouble getting you appointed,
 
   and it sure seems peculiar to me that he didn't want to argue with you
 
   a little more. He gave up easy, didn't he? " "I don't know Ryan well
 
   enough to judge, " he replied.
 
 
 
   "You sure you want to give the badge up? " "I'm sure. I'm not cut out
 
   to be a lawman."
 
 
 
   "You thinking you ought to be a gunslinger? Some folks think there
 
   ain't no difference at all between a marshal and a gunman."
 
 
 
   "I'm just a rancher, nothing more."
 
 
 
   "Then why are so many gunslingers coming after you? Like it or not,
 
   you got yourself a reputation for being fast. Those boys ain't gonna
 
   quit chasing after glory. It seems to me the only way you can change
 
   your future is to hold on to that badge. Some gunslingers will think
 
   twice before taking on a U. S. marshal."
 
 
 
   "Some won't, " Cole argued. "Are you going to tell me where the
 
   regional office is or not? " Norton ignored the question. "I'm gonna
 
   tell the facts to you plain and simple is what I'm gonna do. Marshal
 
   Ryan didn't nag you into doing the right thing, so I guess I ought to,
 
   and you're gonna have to be polite and listen to me because I'm old
 
   enough to be your father and age gives me the advantage. We got us a
 
   terrible problem with this Blackwater gang running over our territory,
 
   and since you happen to live inside the boundaries, I'd say it was your
 
   problem too. Not too long ago our little bank got robbed and we lost
 
   us some good friends. They were decent, law-abiding folks who just had
 
   the bad luck of being inside the bank at the time. Every one of them
 
   was killed like a dog. We had us a witness too. His name was Luke
 
   MacFarland, but he didn't last long.
 
 
 
   " "Sheriff, I'm sorry about what happened, but I don't" Norton cut him
 
   off. "Luke got shot up when the robbery was going on, and he wasn't
 
   even inside the bank at the time. He was just passing by on the
 
   boardwalk, which was another piece of bad luck all right. Still, the
 
   doc had him mending. He would have recovered the doc said so and he
 
   did see a couple of faces through the crack in the shades of the
 
   bank.
 
 
 
   He would have made a good witness when those no-good bastards got
 
   caught."
 
 
 
   "What happened to him? " "Luke got his neck sliced like a bow tie,
 
   that's what happened to him.
 
 
 
   His wife got cut too. They were both sleeping in their bed, but I
 
   think maybe one of them woke up. You should have seen that room,
 
   son.
 
 
 
   There was more blood than paint on those walls. I ain't never gonna
 
   forget it.
 
 
 
   Their little boys saw it too. The oldest, just ten last month,
 
   found them. He ain't never gonna be the same." The story struck a
 
   nerve deep inside Cole. He leaned against the side of the desk, his
 
   gaze directed outside, as he thought about the children. What a hell
 
   of a nightmare for a child to see. What would happen to that little
 
   boy now) Or the other ones? Who would take care of them? How would
 
   they survive? Would they be split up and shipped to various relatives,
 
   or would they take to the streets, the way he had when he was a
 
   youngster? Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Ryan on a black
 
   horse riding at a gallop down the main street. He hoped the marshal
 
   would catch the monsters who had made those children orphans. In one
 
   night, their lives had been changed forever.
 
 
 
   He turned back when the sheriff spoke again. "There was no call to
 
   kill those two, no call at all. You know what Ryan said? " "No,
 
   what's that? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "That it was a miracle they didn't kill those little boys. If one of
 
   them had come into the room while they were butchering, they would have
 
   killed him for sure . . . the others too."
 
 
 
   "What's going to happen to them? " "The boys? " The sheriff looked
 
   bleak, disheartened. "My Josey and me offered to take them all, but
 
   the relatives back east said they'd give them a home. I think they're
 
   gonna farm them out between them. That doesn't seem right to me.
 
 
 
   Brothers ought to stay together.
 
 
 
   " Cole agreed with a pensive nod.
 
 
 
   "I got my own opinion why they killed Luke's wife. Want to hear it? "
 
   "Sure."
 
 
 
   "I think they were sending folks a message." His voice dropped to a
 
   whisper of confidentiality as he continued. "Word gets around fast,
 
   and anyone who might see something or hear something in the future is
 
   gonna think long and hard before stepping forward.
 
 
 
   Witnesses don't survive.
 
 
 
   That's the message."
 
 
 
   "They're bound to make a mistake one of these days."
 
 
 
   "Son, that's what everyone is hoping will happen. I'm praying it
 
   happens soon, cause a lot of good people have died, and not just men,
 
   but women and children too. Those men are gonna burn in hell for what
 
   they've done."
 
 
 
   "They've killed children? " "I heard about one little girl that got
 
   killed. She was in the bank with her mama. Of course it could just be
 
   speculation. I asked Ryan about it, but he got a real strange look in
 
   his eyes and went out the door without answering me, so I don't know if
 
   it's true or not. The marshal sure has his hands full, " he concluded
 
   with a shake of his head.
 
 
 
   "Are you thinking about heading back to your ranch? " "Right now I'm
 
   headed for Texas to bring some steers back. The regional office better
 
   be on the way orţ" Norton wouldn't let him finish. "I got a little
 
   favor to ask you." He put his hand up to ward off any interruption and
 
   hastily added, "I know I don't have the right, since I went and knocked
 
   you over the head.
 
 
 
   Still, I'm compelled to ask."
 
 
 
   "What is it you want? " "Hold on to your badge until tomorrow before
 
   you make up your mind.
 
 
 
   It's already going on dusk, so you don't have to wait long. In the
 
   morning, if you're still determined to give the badge back, then I'll
 
   be happy to tell you the fastest way to get to the regional office.
 
 
 
   With that fancy compass, you won't have any trouble finding it. Now,
 
   don't shake your head at me. At least consider it, and while you're at
 
   it, answer another question for me."
 
 
 
   "What? " Cole asked with a bit more surliness than he intended.
 
 
 
   "Why do you suppose Ryan went and shoved you the way he did before he
 
   took off? " "Frustration, " Cole answered.
 
 
 
   The sheriff grinned like a big cat sitting in a tub of cream. "You
 
   wanted to hit him, didn't you? I saw you make a fist, andţyes, son, I
 
   didţand I saw something else happening too, but never you mind about
 
   that. You showed considerable restraint, " he added. "And Marshal
 
   Ryan did apologizeţI heard it with my own earsţbut now I'm wondering to
 
   myself if he was apologizing for shoving you or maybe something else
 
   he'd done." Before Cole could ask him to explain what he was
 
   chattering on about, the sheriff pushed the topic around to the badge
 
   again.
 
 
 
   "Will you stay on tonight? I'll treat you and Josey to supper at
 
   Frieda's fancy restaurant, and if you ride out now, you won't get far
 
   before dark hits. If I were you, I'd want to spend one more night
 
   sleeping between clean sheets before I headed out on such a long
 
   trip.
 
 
 
   Come morning, I'll give you the directions you're wanting and you can
 
   be on your way lickety-split. Course you'll probably want to go on
 
   over to Rockford Falls first. It ain't too far away from here." Cole
 
   raised an eyebrow. "Why would I want to go to Rockford Falls? "
 
   Norton chuckled. "To get your compass back." The town of Rockford
 
   Falls was reeling with shock. In the past two days, they had lost
 
   eight of their finest citizens and one who wasn't quite so fine but who
 
   mattered to all of them just the same.
 
 
 
   Influenza was responsible for two deaths. The epidemic had been
 
   gathering strength during the past week, striking down half the
 
   population. The old and the young were hit hardest, Adelaide Westcott,
 
   a spry seventy-eight-year-old spinster who still had all of her own
 
   teeth and who never had a cranky word to say about anyone, and sweet
 
   little eight-month-old Tobias Dollen, who had inherited his father's
 
   big ears and his mother's smile, both died within an hour of one
 
   another of what Doc Lawrence called complications.
 
 
 
   The town mourned the loss, and those who could get out of bed attended
 
   the funerals, while those who couldn't leave their chamber pots for
 
   more than five-minute intervals prayed for their souls at home.
 
 
 
   Adelaide and Tobias were buried on Wednesday morning in the cemetery
 
   above Sleepy Creek Meadow. That afternoon, six men were brutally
 
   murdered during a robbery at the bank. The seventh man to die and the
 
   last to be noticed was Bowlegged Billie Buckshot, the town drunk, who,
 
   it was speculated, was on his way from his dilapidated shack on the
 
   outskirts of town to the Rockford Saloon to fetch his breakfast.
 
 
 
   Billie was a creature of habit. He always started his day around three
 
   or four in the afternoon, and he always cut through the alley between
 
   the bank and the general store, thereby shortening his travel by two
 
   full streets. Because he was found cradling his rusty gun in his arms,
 
   it was assumed by Sheriff Sloan that he had had the misfortune to run
 
   into the gang as they were pouring out of the bank's rear exit. It was
 
   also assumed that the poor man never stood a chance.
 
 
 
   Every one knew that until he had his first wake-up drink of the day,
 
   his hands shook like an empty porch swing in a windstorm. Six hours
 
   was a long time to go without whiskey when your body craved it the way
 
   Billie's did. He wasn't shot like the others, though. A knife had
 
   been used on him, and judging from the number of stab wounds on his
 
   face and neck, whoever had done it had thoroughly enjoyed his work.
 
 
 
   As luck would have it, no one heard the gunshots or saw the robbers
 
   leaving the bank, perhaps because more than half the town was home in
 
   bed. Folks who wanted to get out for some fresh air waited until the
 
   sun was easing down to do so. Those few strolling down the boardwalk
 
   certainly noticed Billie curled up like a mangy old dog in the alley,
 
   but none of them gave him a second glance. It was a sight everyone was
 
   used to seeing. They figured the town drunk had simply passed out
 
   again.
 
 
 
   Yet another precious hour passed that could have been used tracking the
 
   killers. Heavy clouds moved in above the town and rumbles of thunder
 
   were heard gathering in the distance. Emmeline MacCorkle, still weak
 
   and gray-faced from influenza, was nagged by her mother to accompany
 
   her to the bank to find out why Sherman MacCorkle thought he could be
 
   late for supper. Sherman's wife was in a snit. She caused quite a
 
   commotion banging on the front door of the bank, drawing curious
 
   glances, and when it wasn't promptly answered, she dragged her daughter
 
   around to the back door. Neither Emmeline nor her mother looked down
 
   at the curled-up drunk. Their disdain evident, they kept their noses
 
   in the air and stared straight ahead. Emmeline had to lift her skirt
 
   to step over Billie's feet, which were sticking out from the filthy
 
   tarp she thought he was using as a cover. She did so without giving
 
   him so much as a fleeting glance. Once they had rounded the corner,
 
   her mother unlatched her grip on her daughter's arm, flung the door
 
   open, and marched inside shouting her husband's name. Emmeline meekly
 
   followed.
 
 
 
   Their blood-curdling screams were heard as far away as the cemetery,
 
   and folks came running to find out what was happening. Those who saw
 
   the grizzly tableau inside the lobby, before Sheriff Sloan could get
 
   there and seal the doors, would never be the same. John Cletchem, the
 
   photographer the sheriff summoned to take pictures for posterity,
 
   became so sick at the eerie sight, that he had to keep running outside
 
   to throw up in the street. Two of the victims, Franklin Carroll and
 
   Malcolm Watterson, had been shot simultaneously and had fallen into
 
   each other.
 
 
 
   They were both still on their knees and appeared to be embracing, with
 
   their heads drooping over each other's shoulder.
 
 
 
   Daniel Ryan had a near riot on his hands when he rode into town at five
 
   minutes past one the following afternoon. Because of a torrential
 
   downpour, the journey had taken longer than expected. Sheriff Sloan
 
   met him in front of the bank, gave him the details, and then unlocked
 
   the door and followed him inside.
 
 
 
   The bodies hadn't been removed from the lobby. If Ryan was sickened by
 
   the sight before him, he didn't show it. He slowly walked around the
 
   scene and stared down at the dead from every possible angle. There was
 
   only one telltale sign that he was affected. His hands were in fists
 
   at his sides.
 
 
 
   In a strangled whisper, Sloan said, "I didn't know if I should let the
 
   bodies be taken out or leave them alone for you to see. Did I do the
 
   right thing? " Before Ryan could answer him, the sheriff continued.
 
 
 
   "There was another body found in the alley next to the bank. His name
 
   was Billie, and he was the town drunk. They used a knife on him, and
 
   before I could tell the funeral men to leave him be, they carted him
 
   off and put him in the ground. I had pictures taken of these poor men,
 
   but Billie was already gone, so I didn't get any pictures of him. "
 
   The stench was getting to him. Sloan held a handkerchief over his
 
   mouth and nose to block the smell. He couldn't make himself look at
 
   his friends, but stared at the ceiling instead. "I don't want the
 
   families of these men to see . . . " Sloan couldn't go on. He gagged,
 
   spun around, and clawed at the doorknob. Ryan had to turn it for
 
   him.
 
 
 
   The sheriff ran outside, doubled over in front of the crowd that had
 
   gathered, and threw up in the street.
 
 
 
   Returning to his inspection, Ryan squatted down next to one of the
 
   bodies to get a closer look at a bullet he'd spotted half buried in the
 
   floorboard. He could still hear Sloan's retching outside when the door
 
   opened again, letting in another blessed whiff of fresh air. Cole came
 
   striding inside. Ryan turned to him and waited for a reaction.
 
 
 
   Cole wasn't prepared for what he saw. As though he'd just run headlong
 
   into a stone wall, he staggered back and whispered, "Ah . . . Lord. "
 
   "Are you going to run, or are you going to stay? " Ryan demanded.
 
 
 
   Cole didn't answer. Ryan's eyes were blazing with fury now. "Take a
 
   good look, Cole. Any of these men could have been one of your
 
   brothers.
 
 
 
   Tell me, how often do they go into a bank? Or your mother? Or your
 
   sister? " he taunted in a voice that lashed out like a whip.
 
 
 
   Cole shook his head and continued to stare at the two corpses on their
 
   knees leaning into one another. He couldn't look away.
 
 
 
   "Don't you dare tell me this isn't your problem, " Ryan said. "I've
 
   made it your problem by getting you appointed marshal.
 
 
 
   YO Like it or not, you aren't walking away from this. You're going to
 
   help me catch the bastards." Cole didn't say a word. He was fighting
 
   the urge to join the sheriff outside, yet at the same time he could eel
 
   his anger fueling to a rage.
 
 
 
   No one should have to die like this. No one.
 
 
 
   He wouldn't allow himself to be sick. If he turned his back on these
 
   men and ran outside, he would be committing a blasphemy. He couldn't
 
   reason his reaction. He just knew it would be wrong for him to be
 
   repulsed by them.
 
 
 
   He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, then slowly moved away
 
   from the door and walked around the circle of dead. Ryan watched him
 
   closely.
 
 
 
   Another minute passed in silence, and then Cole said, "I don't know how
 
   many of them were in here, but I'm pretty sure several men did the
 
   shooting."
 
 
 
   "How do you figure that? " Ryan asked.
 
 
 
   "Powder burns and the angle of the bullets." He pointed to two of the
 
   bodies and whispered, "The bullet came through the back of this man's
 
   head, went out through his forehead and into the neck of the man facing
 
   him. The same thing happened with those two. They were playing a
 
   game, " he added. "Trying to kill two with one bullet. You already
 
   figured that out, didn't you? " Ryan nodded. "Yes."
 
 
 
   "The robbery was yesterday. Why v. ^eren't these bodies buried? "
 
   "The sheriff thought he should leave them here for us to see. I have a
 
   feeling he hasn't been a lawman long." Cole shook his head again.
 
 
 
   "There's a funeral cart outside. These people need to be buried."
 
 
 
   "Then order it done, " Ryan challenged.
 
 
 
   Cole turned to go outside, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob.
 
 
 
   "Whenever I'm away from the ranch, I work alone."
 
 
 
   "You don't work alone any longer."
 
 
 
   "I should warn you. I do things different . . .
 
 
 
   Some of it won't be legal."
 
 
 
   "I figured as much, " Ryan replied.
 
 
 
   He followed Cole outside and stood by him on the boardwalk while Cole
 
   ordered the crowd to back away so the funeral cart could be pulled
 
   closer. The body collector, a moonfaced man with hunched shoulders,
 
   stepped forward. Cole told him that he wanted the bodies covered with
 
   sheets before they were carried out.
 
 
 
   The reporter for the Rockford Falls newspaper objected to the order.
 
 
 
   "We want to see them, " he shouted. "Why do they have to be covered
 
   with sheets? " Cole wanted to punch the ghoulish curiosity seeker.
 
 
 
   With effort, he resisted the impulse and said, "They wouldn't want to
 
   be remembered this way." The reporter wouldn't let up. "They're dead,
 
   " he shouted. "How do you know what they want? " A woman in the crowd
 
   started crying. Cole looked at Ryan, waiting for him to answer, but
 
   the marshal ignored him and kept his gaze directed on the men and women
 
   in the street.
 
 
 
   "Yes, they're dead, " Cole shouted back. "And now the law becomes
 
   their voice. Get the damned sheets." Ryan nodded his agreement. He
 
   pulled the compass out of his pocket and handed it to Cole. "You just
 
   became a lawman." at took over an hour to remove the six bodies.
 
 
 
   Because of the heat, rigor mortis had set in rapidly, and the owner of
 
   the funeral parlor had a hell of a time getting the two men who had
 
   died on their knees wrapped up and carried out.
 
 
 
   The men who were assisting him whispered while they worked. Cole
 
   wasn't certain if they kept their voices low out of respect for the
 
   dead or if they were just plain spooked, but one of them started
 
   gagging and had to run outside when the funeral director worried out
 
   loud that if the families wanted to bury the men that day, he would
 
   have to either build two special coffins to accommodate the bent knees,
 
   or cut off their legs. One day's delay would ensure that the
 
   troublesome rigor mortis would have worn off. And if he sealed the
 
   coffins tight, no one would notice the smell.
 
 
 
   The floor near the center of the lobby where the bodies had knelt was
 
   black. Blood had seeped into the dry wood, and it was there to stay.
 
 
 
   Not even lye would remove the stains.
 
 
 
   Ryan questioned Sloan for a while before he searched through the
 
   president's office and behind the tellers' counter.
 
 
 
   He collected the papers, put them in a box he'd found, and carried them
 
   over to an old, ink-stained desk in front of the windows. While Cole
 
   roamed around the bank, trying to figure out exactly how, why, and when
 
   it all happened, Ryan sat on the edge of the desk and began to read.
 
 
 
   Sloan stood by the door, fidgeting.
 
 
 
   Ryan finally noticed him. "Is something bothering you, Sheriff? " he
 
   asked, without looking up from the document he was scanning.
 
 
 
   "I was thinking I ought to get another posse together and go looking
 
   for the gang again. We had to disband last night when it got so
 
   dark.
 
 
 
   The trail's going to get cold if I wait much longer."
 
 
 
   "That's a good idea, " Ryan said. "Why don't you take charge and see
 
   to it."
 
 
 
   "I figure I should pick the men I want to ride with me, like I did
 
   yesterday before you got here." Ryan shrugged. "You know these people
 
   better than I do. I don't want to hear you did anything stupid though,
 
   like stringing someone up because you think he might have been
 
   involved. If you catch anyone, you bring him back here."
 
 
 
   "I can't control an entire posse. Folks know what happened here.
 
 
 
   Someone mightţ" Ryan cut him off. "You will control them, Sheriff. "
 
   Sloan nodded. "I'll try."
 
 
 
   "That isn't good enough. No one takes the law into his own hands. You
 
   got that? If any of your friends thinks otherwise, you shoot the son
 
   of a bitch." Ryan expected Sloan to leave, but he stayed where he
 
   was.
 
 
 
   His face turned bright red, and he shuffled from foot to foot as he
 
   stared down at the floor.
 
 
 
   "Was there something else? " Ryan asked.
 
 
 
   "It seems to me . . . and a lot of folks in town . . . that I ought
 
   to be in charge of this investigation." Ryan cast Cole a quick glance
 
   to see how he was reacting to the sheriff's claim.
 
 
 
   "How do you figure that? " Ryan asked.
 
 
 
   "I'm the sheriff in Rockford Falls, so this is my jurisdiction, not
 
   yours. Like I said before, I ought to be in charge and you two should
 
   be taking orders from me."
 
 
 
   "You think you could do a better job? " "I maybe could."
 
 
 
   "You can't even look at the stains on the floor, " Ryan said. "What
 
   makes you think you canţ" "It's my jurisdiction, " Sloan stubbornly
 
   insisted.
 
 
 
   Ryan's patience was all used up. "Marshal Clayborne and I are here by
 
   special appointment, and I don't particularly care if you've got a
 
   problem with that or not. Stay out of our way, " he ordered harshly.
 
 
 
   "Now, go get your posse together." Cole listened to the exchange
 
   without saying a word. He waited until the sheriff left, then crossed
 
   the lobby to the windows and opened one.
 
 
 
   A clean, sweet breeze, tinged with the scent of pines, brushed over his
 
   arms and neck. He took several deep breaths to rid himself of the
 
   metallic smell of blood inside the bank, and then turned around and
 
   leaned against the ledge.
 
 
 
   He stared at Ryan's back. "It rained hard last night and most of this
 
   morning, " he remarked.
 
 
 
   "Yeah, I know. I got soaked."
 
 
 
   "There isn't going to be a trail this afternoon. It's been washed
 
   away." Ryan glanced over his shoulder.
 
 
 
   "I know that too. I just wanted to get rid of Sloan." Cole folded his
 
   arms across his chest and leaned back. "The men who did this are long
 
   gone." Ryan nodded. "Wires were sent to every lawman in the territory
 
   yesterday. By now all the main roads are being watched.
 
 
 
   There are also men at the train stations and the river. The bastards
 
   will still get through the net, though. They're slick, real slick. "
 
   He let the paper he'd been reading drop down to the desk and turned
 
   around to face Cole.
 
 
 
   "You know what I used to be worried about? " "What's that? " Ryan's
 
   voice lowered. "That they'd stop and I wouldn't be able to catch
 
   them.
 
 
 
   " Cole shook his head. "They aren't going to stop." Nodding toward
 
   the bloodstains, he added in a whisper, "They're having too much fun.
 
 
 
   " "Yeah, I think you're right. They've developed a real taste for
 
   killing."
 
 
 
   "How many banks have they robbed? " "This makes almost a dozen."
 
 
 
   "They've gotten away twelve times? " "They're either very lucky or
 
   very smart."
 
 
 
   "Where and when was the first robbery? " "It happened late spring two
 
   years ago. They robbed a bank in TexasţBlackwater, Texas, to be
 
   exact.
 
 
 
   That's how they got their name.
 
 
 
   " "The Blackwater gang, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   "Yes, " Ryan said. "Anyway, they went in during the night with
 
   kerosene and burned the building to the ground when they left. No one
 
   saw anything."
 
 
 
   "Was anyone killed? " "No, " Ryan answered. "Then, two weeks later,
 
   they hit another bank in Hollister, Oklahoma. Once again, they went in
 
   during the night, but they didn't use kerosene."
 
 
 
   "Did they tear up the place? " Ryan shook his head. "They were nice
 
   and tidy. They didn't touch anything but the money, and they didn't
 
   leave any evidence behind."
 
 
 
   "How do you know the two robberies were related? " "Gut feeling
 
   mostly, " Ryan said. "There were a couple of similarities.
 
 
 
   As I said before, they went in during the night, and in both cases,
 
   government money had just been deposited for the army salaries at the
 
   nearby forts."
 
 
 
   "Where was the third bank? " "Pelton, Kansas, " Ryan answered. "They
 
   changed the way they did things with that robbery.
 
 
 
   They went in at closing time, just like they did here. There were
 
   seven people inside. Two were killed. The shooting started when one
 
   of the employees went for his gun. He died gripping it in his hand,
 
   but he didn't get a shot off."
 
 
 
   "So you did have witnesses? " "Yes, but they weren't helpful. They
 
   said the men wore masks and that only one did all the talking. They
 
   said he had a southern drawl."
 
 
 
   "How many men did they say came into the bank? " "Seven."
 
 
 
   "And they were after army payroll again? " "Yes." Cole filed the
 
   information away.
 
 
 
   Then he asked, "Where did they strike next? " "They went back to
 
   Texas, " Ryan answered, "and robbed a bank in Dillon."
 
 
 
   "That's your hometown, isn't it? " Ryan looked startled. Cole quickly
 
   explained.
 
 
 
   "I did a halfhearted search for you when you took the compass from my
 
   mother."
 
 
 
   "What else did you find out? " Cole shrugged. "Nothing much. Was
 
   anyone killed in the robbery in Dillon? " he asked, switching the
 
   topic back to the more pressing matter.
 
 
 
   "Yes." His voice turned harsh, angry. "Too damned many." Cole
 
   waited, but Ryan didn't give him any particulars. When Cole prodded
 
   him for details, he became agitated.
 
 
 
   "Look, it's all in the files. I've gone through them at least a
 
   hundred times, but maybe when you read the reports, you'll find
 
   something I missed. The bank in Dillon was the last one they hit that
 
   year. They lay low in the fall and winter months, then start in again
 
   in the spring and summer months. It's sporadic, yet consistent, " he
 
   added. "Last year they moved north and became even more violent, and
 
   this year, all three banks they've robbed have been in Montana
 
   Territory."
 
 
 
   "Probably because there are so many places to hide."
 
 
 
   "Yes. I think so too. They've stayed away from the big cities."
 
 
 
   "Sheriff Norton told me about the witness you had in Middleton." Ryan
 
   nodded. "Luke MacFarland was his name. He happened to be walking past
 
   the bank during the robbery. He told me he heard gunshots, but that he
 
   was already looking in through the space between the window and the
 
   shades because of something else he heard."
 
 
 
   "What was that? " "Laughter." Cole wasn't shocked. "I told you they
 
   enjoy their work.
 
 
 
   It's going to get much worse unless you stop them."
 
 
 
   "Unless we stop them, " Ryan corrected. "You're in this now."
 
 
 
   "Yeah, I guess I am.
 
 
 
   Did Luke tell you how the people inside died? Did they make them kneel
 
   down? " "No, they were taken into the back room and killed there. The
 
   kneeling . . . that's new. So is the knife." Ryan reached up and
 
   began to rub the knot in the back of his neck.
 
 
 
   "Damn, I'm tired." Cole could see how exhausted Ryan was. "You
 
   shouldn't have slept outside in the rain. You're too old for it. "
 
   Ryan smiled. "I'm only a year older than you are."
 
 
 
   "How do you know my age? " "I know everything there is to know about
 
   you." If Cole was surprised by the comment, he didn't let it show.
 
 
 
   "Why didn't you protect your witness in Middleton? " "I sure as hell
 
   tried to protect him. Honest to God I did, but another robbery was
 
   reported over in Hartfield, and I left to check it out.
 
 
 
   Marshal Davidson was put in charge of Luke MacFarland and his family.
 
 
 
   " "Besides telling you that he heard laughter, what else did Luke
 
   say?
 
 
 
   " "He could only see two men through the seam. One of them took his
 
   mask off, and Luke got a glimpse at his profile. He didn't think he
 
   could point him out in a crowd, though. He did say he was tall,
 
   lean.
 
 
 
   " "Anything else? " "No."
 
 
 
   "What was Marshal Davidson doing while his witness was being killed? "
 
   "He'd already gotten hit. He's going to recover, but it will take a
 
   long time. The doctor dug three bullets out of him."
 
 
 
   "They wouldn't have left him unless they thought they'd killed him."
 
 
 
   "Yes, that's what I think."
 
 
 
   "Sheriff Norton told me how MacFarland and his wife were killed. A
 
   knife was used on both of them. He thinks they murdered his wife to
 
   send folks a message. He says you're going to have a hell of a time
 
   getting anyone to admit he saw anything. Word travels fast in the
 
   territory."
 
 
 
   "Did Norton happen to tell you anything about his background? " "No,
 
   he didn't.
 
 
 
   Why do you ask? " "Just curious. Have you ever heard of a gunslinger
 
   named the Laredo Kid? " "Sure, " Cole answered. "He was a legend when
 
   I was growing up. Every one knew what a daredevil he was . . . crazy,
 
   but fast with a gun. Real fast. He's probably dead by now. Did
 
   Norton kill him? " Ryan smiled. "The Laredo Kid isn't dead. Fact is,
 
   he became a sheriff."
 
 
 
   "Norton is . . . ? " Cole was incredulous.
 
 
 
   "I swear it's true."
 
 
 
   "He should have been killed years ago. There's always someone faster
 
   with a gun waiting to prove himself. He's lucky he's still alive."
 
 
 
   "I agree, especially with that wife of his cooking for him. Did she
 
   make you eat her fried chicken? It damn near killed me." Cole burst
 
   out laughing. He was surprised how good it felt.
 
 
 
   The tension in his gut eased up a little. "She tried, " he admitted.
 
 
 
   "But I didn't touch it." Ryan also relaxed, until he looked at the
 
   bloodstained floors again. It was a sobering sight.
 
 
 
   "You've had time to look around. Tell me what you think happened. "
 
   The laughter was gone from Cole's eyes when he answered.
 
 
 
   "I'll tell you what I know didn't happen. None of them fought. There
 
   aren't any signs of a struggle. Hell, they were as meek as sheep.
 
 
 
   There are guns in all three cash drawers behind the windows, " he said
 
   with a tilt of his head toward the tellers' stations. "They're loaded,
 
   but they haven't been touched. Now, you tell me something, Ryan. Why
 
   did you come after me? There are better men out there to wear this
 
   badge."
 
 
 
   "I wanted you."
 
 
 
   "Why? " "It's complicated."
 
 
 
   "That's an excuse, not an answer." Ryan sent the chair flying backward
 
   when he stood up and leaned against the desk. Both men ignored the
 
   crash that followed as the chair struck the wall, their gazes were
 
   fixed on each other.
 
 
 
   A long minute passed in silence before Ryan made up his mind. "All
 
   right, I'll tell you why I chose you for the job. A long time ago I
 
   started getting curious about you when I heard about the trouble you
 
   ran into down near Abilene and how you handled it."
 
 
 
   "I'm sure the story was exaggerated."
 
 
 
   "No, it wasn't. I checked it out. You knew what they were going to do
 
   to that woman, and youţ" "Like I said, " Cole interrupted, "the story
 
   was exaggerated."
 
 
 
   "You shot through her to get him." "I shot through her arm, that's
 
   all. The bullet didn't touch bone. She only got a nick."
 
 
 
   "But that same bullet killed him.
 
 
 
   " "He needed to die." 'I can give you at least twenty other
 
   examples.
 
 
 
   " "I'm good with a gun. So what? " "You want the best reason of
 
   all?
 
 
 
   " "Yes."
 
 
 
   "You think like they do."
 
 
 
   "Like who? " "The bastards who came in here and killed all those
 
   people."
 
 
 
   "Son of a bitch! " Cole roared. "Do you think I could do something
 
   like this? " Ryan diffused his anger. "No, I don't think you could do
 
   something like this. I said you think like they do. You can get into
 
   their minds, Cole.
 
 
 
   I've tried, but I can't do it."
 
 
 
   "You're nuts, Ryan."
 
 
 
   "Maybe, but I need a man who won't hesitate and who doesn't mind
 
   bending the law in certain situations. I also have to trust him, and I
 
   trust you."
 
 
 
   "How do you know you can trust me? " "All the stories you say didn't
 
   happen. I rode with your mother on the train to Salt Lake, and she
 
   told me all sorts of saintly things about you only a mother could
 
   believe. Does she know how ruthless you can be? " Cole refused to
 
   answer the question.
 
 
 
   Ryan plunged ahead. "She thinks you're headed in the wrong
 
   direction.
 
 
 
   That's why she gave you the compass."
 
 
 
   "The compass you kept for over a year." Ryan shrugged. She also told
 
   me the compass was to remind you to stay on the right path. The way I
 
   see it, I'm helping you do just that."
 
 
 
   "I'm not ruthless."
 
 
 
   "When the situation calls for it, you are. I also heard about
 
   Springfield."
 
 
 
   "Ah, hell."
 
 
 
   "Are you going to help me or not? " Cole had already made his
 
   decision. The sight of those bodies would stay in his mind for a long,
 
   long time, and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep at night unless he
 
   helped find the men who had committed this atrocity. He simply
 
   couldn't walk away.
 
 
 
   "I want to get all of them, " he whispered. "I'll keep the badge, but
 
   as soon as this is over, I'm giving it back."
 
 
 
   "You might decide to stay on."
 
 
 
   "Maybe, " was all he would allow. "Are there any special rules for
 
   marshals? I never was one for rules, " he warned.
 
 
 
   "Marshals are assigned to territories, but you and I are theexception
 
   because we're on special duty. As for the rules, you don't need to
 
   worry about them. It's all common-sense stuff anyway. Marshals can't
 
   be tried for murder, you know." He told the lie with a straight
 
   face.
 
 
 
   Cole laughed. "That rule will come in handy." Ryan stood up and
 
   rolled his shoulders to work the stiffness out. "Why don't you go
 
   through this box while I go in the back and look through the drawers
 
   again." Ryan had already headed toward the president's office when
 
   Cole called out to him. "What am I looking for? " "The names of the
 
   people who did their banking yesterday. Sloan told me that the
 
   president insisted his tellers keep accurate records. They were
 
   ordered to write down the name of every customer they helped."
 
 
 
   "Once we make the list of the names, then what? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "We talk to all of them because one might have noticed something out of
 
   the ordinary."
 
 
 
   "Has that ever happened before? " "No, but we still have to ask.
 
 
 
   Those bastards are going to slip up one of these days.
 
 
 
   Maybe one of them came into the bank earlier to look it over. "
 
   "That's wishful thinking, Ryan."
 
 
 
   "Yeah, I know, but we still have to go through the routine. We have to
 
   cover all the possibilities. From the looks of all these stacks of
 
   paper, there were quite a few customers yesterday. It's going to take
 
   us the rest of the day to go through them." They divided the stacks
 
   between them. Ryan went back into the president's office to work
 
   there. Cole stayed out in the lobby. He searched through the top
 
   drawer of the ink-stained desk for a notepad and pencil so that he
 
   could make his list, found what he needed, and put them on the
 
   desktop.
 
 
 
   He was on his way to get the chair Ryan had kicked over when a glimpse
 
   of blue on the floor under the desk's kneehole caught his attention.
 
 
 
   "We're going to have to go through everything in here at least three
 
   times, " Ryan warned. "Just in case we miss something the first and
 
   second time around."
 
 
 
   "We'll be here a week, " Cole shouted back as he bent down on one knee
 
   and reached inside the kneehole. He pulled out a pale blue bag with a
 
   blue-and-white satin string.
 
 
 
   He opened it and looked inside. There wasn't anything there, just blue
 
   satin lining. Cole stared at the thing for several seconds, then
 
   called out, "Hey, Ryan, do you know who works at this desk? " "Yes, "
 
   Ryan shouted back. He was seated at the president's desk, methodically
 
   going through the contents in the top drawer. "I've got the name
 
   written down in my notes."
 
 
 
   "Do you remember if it is a man or a woman? " Something in Cole's
 
   voice caught Ryan's attention. He glanced up, saw him down on one
 
   knee, and called out, "A man sits there."
 
 
 
   "Was he one of the men killed? " "No. He was home sick yesterday."
 
 
 
   Cole stuck his head into the opening. "Well . . . well, " he
 
   whispered.
 
 
 
   "Did you find something? " Ryan shouted.
 
 
 
   "Maybe, " Cole answered. "Then again, maybe not." He stood up and
 
   turned to Ryan. "Do you happen to know how often this place gets
 
   cleaned? " "That's the first question I asked Sloan, since we also
 
   have to go through the trash. According to him, MacCorkle was obsessed
 
   about keeping the place spotless. He had it cleaned every night and
 
   inspected every nook and cranny in the morning. All the trash in the
 
   bins is from yesterday's business."
 
 
 
   "You're positive it was cleaned Tuesday night? " Ryan stopped what he
 
   was doing and walked back to the lobby. He spotted the wad of blue
 
   fabric in Cole's hand.
 
 
 
   "Yeah, I'm sure. Why? What have you got? " "A possibility."
 
 
 
   "A possibility of what? " Cole smiled. "A witness." hree women had
 
   been inside the bank between the hours of one and three o'clock in the
 
   afternoon on the day of the robbery. Cole and Ryan knew that was fact,
 
   not speculation, because of Sherman MacCorkle's taskmaster rules. Just
 
   as the sheriff had told Ryan, the president of the bank had demanded
 
   that every transactionţeven change for a dollar billţbe recorded by
 
   name on a piece of paper and filed in the cash drawer. If the figures
 
   on the papers didn't balance with the money in the drawer, the teller
 
   had to make up the difference. MacCorkle had also insisted that each
 
   day's tallies be separated into the morning and afternoon hours. The
 
   receipts for Wednesday morning's transactions were still on MacCorkle's
 
   desk in three neat piles. There was also an open filing cabinet behind
 
   MacCorkle's desk filled with documents, loan applications, mortgages,
 
   and records of foreclosures. Every piece had a date on top.
 
 
 
   God love Sherman MacCorkle for being such a stickler for details.
 
 
 
   With all the interruptions, it took until evening to sort out all the
 
   names. In all, twenty-nine men and women had come into the bank that
 
   day. Eighteen had taken care of their business during the morning
 
   hours, and none of them were women. The bank had been closed for lunch
 
   from noon until one o'clock, and that afternoon, eleven people had come
 
   inside, and of those eleven, three were women.
 
 
 
   One of them had left her bag behind.
 
 
 
   Ryan and Cole were cautious about the discovery and decided in hushed,
 
   urgent voices to keep the possibility of a witness to themselves for
 
   the time being.
 
 
 
   "We could be jumping the gun on this, " Cole warned. "In fact, we
 
   probably are."
 
 
 
   "Yeah, but I got a feeling . . . " "Me too, " Cole whispered. "The
 
   thing is. . . it could have been under the desk for weeks."
 
 
 
   "We should talk to the couple who cleans the place right away. I've
 
   got their names and address somewhere in my notes, " Ryan said as he
 
   flipped through the pages of his notepad. "Here it is.
 
 
 
   Mildred and Edward Stewart. They live over on Currant Street. Let's
 
   go talk to them now. I want to get out of here for a few minutes and
 
   get some fresh air."
 
 
 
   "It's past nine, " Cole said. "They might be in bed." He was already
 
   moving toward the front door as he reminded Ryan of the time. They
 
   locked the door on their way out and walked over to the Stewarts'
 
   cottage on the outskirts of town. The couple's daughter opened the
 
   door for them and explained that her parents were working.
 
 
 
   They cleaned the bank, the church, and the general store every night.
 
 
 
   The marshals backtracked. They could see the lights inside the general
 
   store. The shades were drawn, but Edward Stewart opened the door as
 
   soon as Ryan knocked and told him who he was.
 
 
 
   Mildred was down on her knees scrubbing the floor. The heavyset woman
 
   got to her feet and wiped her hands on her apron when the marshals came
 
   inside. Both she and her husband were olderţaround fifty or so, Cole
 
   speculatedţ and from their haggard expressions and their stooped
 
   shoulders, he knew they had had to work hard all of their lives.
 
 
 
   Ryan made the introductions, and then said, "We know you're busy, but
 
   we sure would appreciate it if you would answer a couple of
 
   questions.
 
 
 
   " "We'll be glad to help any way we can, " Edward said. "There's some
 
   chairs behind the counter if you want to sit down. The floor should be
 
   dry by now."
 
 
 
   "It won't take that long, " Ryan said. "Did you and Mildred clean the
 
   bank Tuesday night? " Edward nodded. "Yes, sir, we did. We clean it
 
   every night but Sunday, and MacCorkle paid us every Monday morning."
 
 
 
   "Do you think the new people running the place will keep us on? "
 
   Mildred asked. "We do a good job and we don't charge much." They
 
   could tell she was worried. She was wringing her apron in her hands
 
   and frowning with concern.
 
 
 
   "I'm sure they'll keep you on, " Ryan predicted. "When you clean the
 
   bank, do you wash the floors or sweep them? " "I do both, " Mildred
 
   answered. "First I give them a good sweeping, and then I get down on
 
   my hands and knees and wash every inch of my floors.
 
 
 
   I use vinegar and water, and when I'm done, the hardwood shines,
 
   doesn't it Edward? " "Yes, it does, " he agreed.
 
 
 
   "You don't move the furniture, do you? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "I don't move the heavy pieces, but I move the chairs and the trash
 
   tins. I get under the tellers' windows, under the desks, and behind
 
   the file cabinets that aren't against the walls. We do a real thorough
 
   job, " she insisted.
 
 
 
   "MacCorkle always inspected our work. Sometimes he'd get down on his
 
   knees and look into the corners just to make sure we didn't miss a
 
   speck of dust or a cobweb, and if he found any, he deducted from our
 
   pay. He was real finicky about his bank."
 
 
 
   "He bought old, used-up furniture for the lobby and his loan officers,
 
   but he told us, with enough elbow grease, we could make the wood shine
 
   again. Some of those desks should have been thrown away years ago, but
 
   MacCorkle wasn't one to waste anything, " Edward said.
 
 
 
   "He had fancy new furniture put in his office, " Mildred interjected.
 
 
 
   Cole spotted a basket of green apples on the counter. He took a coin
 
   out of his pocket, tossed it on the counter, and then selected two. He
 
   threw one to Ryan and took a bite out of the other.
 
 
 
   "Ma'am, did the folks who came into the bank ever leave anything
 
   behind? " "Sure they did, " Mildred answered. "I found a pretty
 
   brooch once, and Edward found a wallet with six whole dollars inside.
 
 
 
   Anything that's left behind is put in the lost-and-found box in
 
   MacCorkle's office. It's in the corner by the safe."
 
 
 
   "Did you happen to find anything Tuesday night? " Both Mildred and
 
   Edward shook their heads.
 
 
 
   "Do you remember cleaning under the desks Tuesday? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "Sure I remember, " Mildred said. "I clean under the desks every
 
   night, but Sunday. Why are you asking? " "I was just curious, " Cole
 
   lied.
 
 
 
   "Even if we were tired, we cleaned every inch of the bank because
 
   MacCorkle wouldn't pay us our full wage if we didn't."
 
 
 
   "He was a hard man to work for, " Mildred whispered.
 
 
 
   "You shouldn't be speaking ill of the dead, " Edward told his wife.
 
 
 
   "I'm speaking the truth, " she argued.
 
 
 
   "We'll let you get back to your job, " Ryan said. "Thanks for your
 
   help." Edward moved forward to let them out the front door. "Do you
 
   think you could get MacCorkle's wife to pay us for the two nights we
 
   cleaned? " "I'll be happy to talk to her, but if she doesn't pay you,
 
   I'll make sure the new manager does." s Edward shook his head. "If we
 
   can be of any help catching those men who killed our friends, you let
 
   us know, Marshal."
 
 
 
   "I'll do that, " Ryan promised.
 
 
 
   The marshals started down the boardwalk. "Now what do we do? " Cole
 
   asked.
 
 
 
   "Go back to the bank and box up all the papers from yesterday's
 
   business. It won't take long."
 
 
 
   "Do you think the restaurant's still open? " "No, it's too late. Your
 
   apple's going to have to do for the moment. I wish we could go talk to
 
   those three women now, but I don't know where they live."
 
 
 
   "We can get the addresses from the sheriff as soon as he gets back with
 
   his posse."
 
 
 
   "Yes, " Ryan agreed.
 
 
 
   They walked along in silence for several minutes, and then Cole said,
 
   "At least we know the bag was left during the day of the robbery.
 
 
 
   MacCorkle was a real sweetheart, wasn't he? " "You mean holding back
 
   their wages if they didn't do a thorough job? " "Exactly, " Cole
 
   said.
 
 
 
   "Why would a woman leave her purse behind? " "She must have been in a
 
   panic."
 
 
 
   "If she was hiding in the kneehole, she saw the whole thing.
 
 
 
   " "Maybe she saw the whole thing, " Ryan said. "We should talk to the
 
   man who sits at the desk." He handed Cole the key to the front door of
 
   the bank while he dug his notepad out again. After Cole had gone
 
   inside and turned up the gas lamp, Ryan found what he was looking
 
   for.
 
 
 
   "His name's Lemont Morganstaff. We'll talk to him in the morning, " he
 
   said. "He might know something about the bag."
 
 
 
   "What's he gonna know? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   Ryan shrugged. "Probably nothing, but we have to ask him anyway. "
 
   "And then what? " "If he doesn't know where the bag came from, we
 
   still can't assume a woman was hiding in the kneehole. It could have
 
   ended up there a hundred different ways. One of the three women could
 
   have sat down at the desk to go through some papers. She might have
 
   dropped it when she got up. Damn, I wish it wasn't so late."
 
 
 
   "You're right. There could be a hundred different explanations. A
 
   woman could have left it during the morning. She could have come
 
   inside with a friend and been sitting at the desk while he did his
 
   banking."
 
 
 
   "Why would a woman carry around an empty purse? " "I don't know why
 
   they carry them in the first place. Pockets are more efficient."
 
 
 
   "We shouldn't get our hopes up. A woman might have dropped it, then
 
   kicked it into the corner of the kneehole when she stood up. Does that
 
   make sense to you? " Cole shook his head. "The women I know keep
 
   track of their things."
 
 
 
   "God, I hope she saw it."
 
 
 
   "Now who's being ruthless?
 
 
 
   If she did see the murders, she has to be scared out of her mind. The
 
   last thing she's going to want to do is come forward."
 
 
 
   "We'll protect her."
 
 
 
   "She won't believe that, not if she heard what happened to Luke
 
   MacFarland." Ryan began to pace around the lobby. In the shadows of
 
   the gas lamps, the bloodstains resembled ghoulish outlines.
 
 
 
   "We're going to try to follow procedure on this one. I don't want to
 
   leave any stone unturned.
 
 
 
   Exasperated, Cole said, "I've been a marshal one day. I don't know
 
   what the procedures are."
 
 
 
   "We interview the three women first, but we also question every man who
 
   came in here yesterday."
 
 
 
   "It seems like a waste of time to me, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   "It's procedure." Cole leaned back against a desk and took another
 
   bite of his apple.
 
 
 
   "Fine, we'll do it your way. There were twenty-nine people inside the
 
   bank. You talk to fifteen and I'll take the other fourteen."
 
 
 
   "No, that isn't how it works. We interview them together, then compare
 
   notes afterwards. I might miss something that you will pick up, " he
 
   explained. "We'll talk to the women first, " he repeated. "Then the
 
   others. And that's only the beginning. We need to talk to everyone
 
   who happened to be on the street, near the street, or in one of the
 
   buildings close to the bank. We alsoţ" Cole interrupted him. "In
 
   other words, we talk to everyone."
 
 
 
   "Just about, " Ryan replied. "As much as I hate to, we're going to
 
   have to involve Sloan on this. I don't know these people. He does,
 
   and people here might tell him things they won't tell us. I'll give
 
   him the list of names as soon as he gets back. P} Ryan stopped pacing
 
   and looked around the lobby. "I think we're finished here. I'll put
 
   yesterday's papers in the safe just in case one of us wants to go
 
   through them again. The bookkeepers from the bank in Gramby will be
 
   here Sunday to examine MacCorkle's records, and when they're finished,
 
   we'll know the exact amount stolen.
 
 
 
   Let's meet back here at seven in the morning and have Sloan round up
 
   the people we want to talk to."
 
 
 
   "I don't think it's a good idea to question them here. We should use
 
   the office at the jail." Ryan shook his head. "Jails make people
 
   nervous."
 
 
 
   "Seeing the bloodstains is going to make them more nervous."
 
 
 
   "Yeah, you're right. We'll use the jail." After collecting the papers
 
   and locking the safe, they left the bank.
 
 
 
   "Have you checked into the hotel yet? " Ryan asked.
 
 
 
   "No, I went directly to the bank. What about you? " "I didn't take
 
   the time either. Are you still hungry? " "Yeah, I am, " Cole
 
   answered. "Maybe the hotel will open the kitchen for us."
 
 
 
   "They will, " Ryan assured him. "We're marshals. We'll make them."
 
 
 
   Cole laughed. "I knew there had to be a couple of benefits to this
 
   job." They walked in companionable silence down the middle of the
 
   street, the only light supplied by a full moon.
 
 
 
   "How much money do you think they got away with? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "Like I said before, we won't know the exact amount until the examiners
 
   go through the records. I do know from the receipt I found on
 
   MacCorkle's desk that an army paymaster made a deposit that morning.
 
 
 
   The amount was seventeen thousand eight hundred and some change. "
 
   Cole whistled. "That's a lot of money. I'll bet the bastards knew
 
   before MacCorkle did that the money was coming."
 
 
 
   "I'm sure they did.
 
 
 
   All they had to do was follow him."
 
 
 
   "Why bother robbing the banks? " Cole asked. "Why not rob the
 
   paymaster on his way to the fort with the cash? " "It's too dangerous
 
   and unpredictable, that's why. The paymaster doesn't ride alone, and
 
   the guards assigned to him are all crack shots.
 
 
 
   Banks are easier if you know what you're doing, and the men we're up
 
   against obviously do." The discussion ended when they reached the
 
   hotel. The only rooms available were in the attic and were about the
 
   size of clothes closets.
 
 
 
   Cole's room faced the street. Ryan's room was directly across the
 
   hall.
 
 
 
   The beds were soft though, and with a little persuasion, the night
 
   manager agreed to send up supper.
 
 
 
   Neither Ryan nor Cole got much sleep that night. Cole kept thinking
 
   about the grisly scene he'd walked into, and Ryan spent his time
 
   thinking about the possible witness.
 
 
 
   Sorning came all too quickly. As agreed, the marshals met at the bank,
 
   where Sheriff Sloan was waiting to report that the posse hadn't had any
 
   luck finding a trail. Ryan handed him the list of people he wanted to
 
   report to the jail to be interviewed. The three women's names were at
 
   the top.
 
 
 
   The sheriff looked over the names and shook his head. "Some of these
 
   folks are sick as dogs with influenza. It hits hard and fast, " he
 
   warned. "And some of the others are getting ready to head out of
 
   town.
 
 
 
   I ran into Doc Lawrence at the restaurant, and he was up all night
 
   tending to the Walsh family, and you've got John Walsh's name on the
 
   list. Doc told me Frederick O'Malley is heading out of town with his
 
   brood as soon as the general store opens and he can get some more
 
   supplies."
 
 
 
   "No one leaves Rockford Falls until Marshal Clayborne and I have talked
 
   to them. That includes Frederick O'Malley."
 
 
 
   "I can't make him stay."
 
 
 
   "I can, " Ryan replied.
 
 
 
   Sloan wanted to argue. "This seems like a waste of time to me. If
 
   anyone saw anything, he would have spoken up by now."
 
 
 
   "Marshal Ryan wants to follow procedure, " Cole explained.
 
 
 
   Sloan was staring at the blue bag on the desk. "Where did that come
 
   from? " Ryan answered. "It was on the floor under the desk."
 
 
 
   "You think someone left it? " "That much is pretty obvious, " Cole
 
   said.
 
 
 
   "We're curious to know who it belongs to." A gleam came into Sloan's
 
   eyes. "It had to have been left here on the day of the robbery because
 
   the Stewarts, who clean the place every night, would have found it if
 
   someone had left it the day before. They would have put it in the
 
   lost-and-found box. They're honest people, " he thought to add. "You
 
   don't think one of the robbers left it behind, do you? " "No, we don't
 
   think that, " Cole said dryly.
 
 
 
   "Which desk was it found under? " "Lemont Morganstaff's, " Ryan
 
   answered. "We're going to talk to him right away. Do you know where
 
   he lives? " "Sure I do. I know just about everybody in town. I'll
 
   take you over to Lemont's as soon as you're ready. Are you going to
 
   ask him about the bag? " "Yes, " Ryan answered.
 
 
 
   Sloan's mind was whirling with possibilities. "Where exactly was the
 
   bag found? Was it right by the chair or was it way under the desk? "
 
   "It was in the kneehole, " Ryan answered. "In the corner." Sloan's
 
   eyes widened. "You don't think that maybe someone was hiding under the
 
   desk, do you? " "We haven't drawn any conclusions yet, " Cole told
 
   him.
 
 
 
   "But it's possible, isn't it? " "Yes, " Ryan agreed. "It's
 
   possible.
 
 
 
   The matter of the bag is confidential, Sheriff. I don't want you
 
   telling anyone about it." Sloan dropped down to his knees. "You can
 
   see through here . . . " "I want to get started, " Cole said
 
   impatiently. "Show us where Lemont lives, and then start rounding up
 
   the people on the list.
 
 
 
   We'll use the jail to talk to them."
 
 
 
   "I'll wait out front to take you to Lemont's, " Sloan said, bolting for
 
   the door.
 
 
 
   As soon as Sloan had stepped outside, Cole said, "It was a bad idea to
 
   tell him where the bag was found." Ryan shrugged. "He's a lawman, and
 
   he'll only get in our way if we don't feed him a little information now
 
   and then. What harm can he do? " As it turned out, Sloan could do a
 
   great deal of harm. Before the day was over, Ryan actually considered
 
   locking the sheriff in his own jail.
 
 
 
   Unfortunately, the law frowned on incarcerating a man just because he
 
   was stupid.
 
 
 
   In a town the size of Rockford Falls, everyone knew everyone else's
 
   business, and carefully guarded secrets had a way of leaking out like
 
   water through a sieve. The employee who worked at the desk where the
 
   purse was found, Lemont Morganstaff, a prissy old-maid of a man, was
 
   shown the cloth bag and duly questioned. The interview took place in
 
   the claustrophobic parlor of Lemont's home. Dressed in a bright lime
 
   green velvet robe and slippers, Lemont resembled a parrot. He sat in a
 
   faded yellow velvet chair, rested his arms on the lace-covered arms,
 
   and puckered his lips in thought for several minutes before declaring
 
   that the purse couldn't have been found by his desk. He made it a
 
   rule, he explained, never to let any of the customers, man or woman,
 
   past the gate. However, since he hadn't been working on the day of the
 
   robbery, he couldn't be certain the other employees had enforced his
 
   rule.
 
 
 
   Sheriff Sloan, who had insisted on being part of the interview, blurted
 
   out the fact that the purse had been found in the kneehole of Lemont's
 
   desk. "It couldn't have been kicked there, " he said, "because your
 
   desk faces the lobby and that front panel goes all the way to the
 
   floor.
 
 
 
   Someone had to go around, past the gate, and get behind your desk.
 
 
 
   I've had a little time to ponder on it, and I think that maybe there
 
   was a woman hiding there during the robbery. I'd wager the marshals
 
   think the same thing. Now, there were three women in the bankţtheir
 
   names are on the list Marshal Ryan gave meţ and I'm going to go round
 
   them up as soon as I'm finished here. I'm hoping the woman who saw the
 
   murders is just too timid to come forward, but if she's deliberately
 
   keeping the information to herself because she's scared, I'm going to
 
   have to arrest her." Lemont covered his mouth with his lace
 
   handkerchief and looked horrified. "You think a woman saw the
 
   murders?
 
 
 
   Oh, that poor dear, " he whispered.
 
 
 
   Ryan quickly tried to repair the damage Sloan had done, while Cole
 
   shoved the sheriff toward the front door.
 
 
 
   "We don't believe any such thing, " he said. "The purse could have
 
   gotten under the desk a hundred different ways. There could have been
 
   a lot of women inside the bank, and any one of them could have sat at
 
   your desk and accidentally dropped it." Lemont wasn't paying very much
 
   attention to the marshal's explanation.
 
 
 
   "It had to have been left on the day of the robbery, " he said
 
   excitedly.
 
 
 
   "The bank's cleaned every night by the Stewarts, and they always do a
 
   thorough job. Still, you're right. A woman could have left the bag
 
   sometime during the morning hours. If you look in the tellers'
 
   drawers, you'll find a record of every customer who did any business
 
   that day." Sloan elbowed his way back over to Lemont. "I got a
 
   feeling the three women on my list were there in the afternoon. I got
 
   their names right here. There was Jessica Summers, Grace Winthrop, and
 
   Rebecca James. Do you know any of these, Lemont? " "As a matter of
 
   fact I do. I know Rebecca James. I saw her just last night, but she
 
   was feeling very poorly, and I fear she's caught the influenza. I sent
 
   her home, of course.
 
 
 
   "I met the dear woman last week, " he continued. "She stopped by to
 
   tell me how glorious she thought my garden was. She appreciates
 
   beauty, " he added. "I don't know the other two women, but then I keep
 
   to myself. By the time I get home from the bank, there are only two
 
   hours left before dark, and I spend every minute of it tending my
 
   flowers."
 
 
 
   "None of the women on the list have lived in Rockford Falls long, "
 
   Sloan said. "Are you sure you've never met Jessica Summers or Grace
 
   Winthrop? " "I might have, but if I did, neither one of them made much
 
   of an impression." Cole grabbed hold of Sloan's arm and pushed him out
 
   the doorway. Ryan kept his attention on Lemont.
 
 
 
   "The sheriff spoke out of turn, " he began. "His conclusions aren't
 
   based on fact."
 
 
 
   "Perhaps a stranger left the pocketbook behind, " Lemont said. "There
 
   are so many of them in town this time of year.
 
 
 
   They come to see the falls and trample all over the glorious flowers
 
   growing wild on the hills outside of town. Some of the men and women
 
   are quite audacious, Marshal. Why, just two weeks ago one of them
 
   vandalized my garden and picked all of my tulips. I've asked and asked
 
   Sheriff Sloan to do something about it, but now that you're here,
 
   perhaps you can apprehend the culprits. I'll press charges, " he
 
   added. "I don't care if it was the work of a child or not. The
 
   hooligans belong in jail." Cole returned to the parlor in time to hear
 
   Lemont's remarks. "It seems you're more concerned about your garden
 
   thanţ" Lemont interrupted him. "Than the people who died in the
 
   bank?
 
 
 
   You're right, Marshal, I am. Flowers, you see, are more precious to
 
   me. They serve only one purpose. To be pretty, and I like pretty
 
   things."
 
 
 
   "Let's go, " Cole told Ryan. "We've taken enough of Lemont's time."
 
 
 
   The two men headed for the door. "I don't want to hear that you've
 
   told anyone about our talk, " Ryan ordered, "or you'll end up in
 
   jail."
 
 
 
   Lemont immediately gave his word to keep quiet. He found it impossible
 
   to keep his promise, however. He received a visitor an hour later and
 
   simply had to relate every word of the conversation he'd had with the
 
   marshals. He also told his housekeeper, Ernestine Hopper, who just
 
   happened to have a mouth the size of the stuffed bass mounted on the
 
   sheriflf's office wall. A rather dull-witted woman, she also led a
 
   rather dull life, and news such as this couldn't be kept to herself.
 
 
 
   She told everyone she knew that there was a possibility of a witness to
 
   the murders, and after retelling the story four or five times, she
 
   stopped using the word "possibility" and made it fact. By the time the
 
   rumor circled around to Ryan and Cole, the story had blossomed into
 
   front-page news in the Rockford Falls Gazette. Convinced the story was
 
   the hottest news to hit town, the reporter had talked the owner into
 
   printing an evening edition. It was the first time in the history of
 
   Rockford Falls that folks were treated to two newspapers in one day,
 
   and needless to say, the special edition caused quite a stir.
 
 
 
   Van wanted to kill someone. Cole suggested he start with the sheriff
 
   and then head on over to Morganstaff's house and shoot him and his
 
   damned flowers too. The men, furious and frustrated, discussed the
 
   problem of dealing with Sloan on their way to Melton's restaurant that
 
   evening. They still hadn't talked to the three women. Jessica Summers
 
   and Grace Winthrop had gone to do an errand and weren't expected back
 
   at the boardinghouse until suppertime. Rebecca James was staying at
 
   the hotel, but was too ill to receive visitors. Hopefully she would be
 
   well enough to talk to the marshals tomorrow.
 
 
 
   Ryan and Cole had already talked to eighteen of those who had been in
 
   the bank, and thus far, the investigation had proven to be a waste of
 
   time, for they hadn't gleaned one morsel from any of them. No one had
 
   seen or heard anything unusual.
 
 
 
   Although darkness was fast approaching, their day wasn't over yet.
 
 
 
   After they had their supper, the two of them Were going back to the
 
   boardinghouse to talk to Jessica and Grace.
 
 
 
   The few men and women strolling down the street gave the marshals a
 
   wide berth, and as soon as the two men sat down inside the restaurant,
 
   most of the other diners got up and left.
 
 
 
   "Does this bother you? " Ryan asked Cole, nodding toward the doorway
 
   where three men were comically tripping over one another in their hurry
 
   to leave.
 
 
 
   "No, " Cole answered. "I'm used to it. Every time I'd ride into a new
 
   town, for some reason folks automatically jumped to the conclusion that
 
   I was a gunslinger."
 
 
 
   "You were a gunslinger, " Ryan reminded him.
 
 
 
   Cole wasn't in the mood to argue with him. He moved back so that the
 
   owner could place the bowls of rabbit stew and a basket of hot bread on
 
   the table.
 
 
 
   "If you two don't mind hurrying, I'd like to get you fed and out of
 
   here so my business will pick up." Cole tried to hold on to his
 
   patience. The woman was old, tired-looking, and thin as a stick of
 
   straw. He politely asked for coffee. She impolitely demanded to know
 
   if he planned to linger while he drank it.
 
 
 
   "Ma'am, neither Marshal Ryan nor I killed the seven men who were just
 
   buried, and we'd both appreciate it if you'd stop treating us like we
 
   did."
 
 
 
   "Why haven't you caught any of the men who killed them? That's what
 
   folks are wondering." 'We're trying, " Ryan said, his voice weary.
 
 
 
   "I know you've been talking to the folks who were in the bank the day
 
   of the murders." Cole nodded. "Word gets around fast, doesn't it? "
 
   he remarked to Ryan.
 
 
 
   He turned back to the woman. "None of your friends and neighbors saw
 
   anything. They didn't see them ride into town or out. They didn't
 
   hear any gunshots either, " he added.
 
 
 
   She gave the marshals a sympathetic look. "Oh, some of them probably
 
   heard the shots. They were maybe too scared to do anything about it.
 
 
 
   You boys are tired, aren't you? My name's Loreen, " she added. "And
 
   I'll go fetch your coffee now." She returned a minute later, poured
 
   two cups, and put the coffeepot down on the table between the men.
 
 
 
   "The way I see it, some folks would tell you if they'd seen or heard
 
   anything, but most probably wouldn't. We all know what happens to
 
   people who talk. The Blackwater gang comes back to get them. Every
 
   one knows that's how they do things. In all my days I've never heard
 
   of men who are so pure evil. I read a while back that they robbed a
 
   bank in Texas and killed a woman and her little girl. The baby wasn't
 
   even three years old."
 
 
 
   "She was four, " Ryan said.
 
 
 
   Loreen's head snapped up. "Then it's true." His voice was soft,
 
   chilling. "Yes, it's true."
 
 
 
   "Dear God, why would they want to hurt such an innocent little lamb?
 
 
 
   She couldn't have told anything. She was too little. }^ Cole's
 
   appetite vanished. They were dealing with monsters, and all he wanted
 
   to think about was catching them.
 
 
 
   Loreen put her bony hand on her hip and shook her head. "I know you're
 
   trying to do your best. You boys take all the time you need. Business
 
   is suffering anyway because of the influenza spreading through town.
 
 
 
   Even the strangers who come to gawk at the falls are getting sickţat
 
   least most of them are, according to the doc. He says the sickness
 
   isn't contagious, but I say it is. Have you talked to that poor woman
 
   who saw the murders? " Lost in their own thoughts, the marshals were
 
   jarred by her question.
 
 
 
   Cole asked her to repeat it.
 
 
 
   "I asked you if you talked to the poor woman who saw the murders, " she
 
   said. "I heard you suspect that one of the three women who were in the
 
   bank during the afternoon saw everything while it was happening. If
 
   she isn't too scared, she might tell you what she saw, and if she is
 
   too scared, well then, maybe you could persuade her to talk. I'm not
 
   trying to tell you how to run your investigation, " she hastily
 
   added.
 
 
 
   "But since you suspect . . . " "We don't suspect anyone, " Cole
 
   interjected.
 
 
 
   Lorene didn't pay any attention to his comment. "It has to be true
 
   because I read about it in the paper. We had us a special edition this
 
   afternoon. Sheriff Sloan was interviewed by the reporter, and he told
 
   him that he got under the desk himself and looked, and sure enough, he
 
   could see the lobby through the cracks in the wood. He said a woman
 
   was hiding there, all right."
 
 
 
   "Ma'am, the sheriff didn't get under the desk, " Cole argued.
 
 
 
   "It says in the paper that he did, " she countered. "You know, I could
 
   have been in that bank while the robbery was going on. I usually make
 
   my deposits about that time of day, but lately, enough cash hasn't come
 
   in for me to go every day. No one feels like eating when they're sick,
 
   " she explained. "Still, I can't understand why you would put all
 
   three of those poor ladies in jail. Why, I heard the sheriff dragged
 
   one of them out of her sickbed, and the other two had just sat down for
 
   their supper. I think you should have asked them your questions at the
 
   boardinghouse. That's what I think. Jail isn't a proper place for
 
   ladies. No sir, it doesn't seem right to me the way you're treating
 
   them as though they're common-trash criminals. Aren't you boys going
 
   to eat your supper? Where are you going? " As soon as the word "jail"
 
   had been mentioned, Cole and Ryan had jumped to the same conclusion.
 
 
 
   Sloan was responsible for another fiasco.
 
 
 
   heir guess proved to be right. They ran back to the jail, cursing
 
   under their breath most of the way, and found that the sheriff had
 
   indeed locked all three women in one of his cells.
 
 
 
   The idiot was actually proud of what he had done. His chest was puffed
 
   up like a rooster's as he strutted around the office giving his
 
   explanation.
 
 
 
   "I had to do it, " he began. "I asked all of them which one was in the
 
   bank during the holdup, and none of them would own up to it, so I put
 
   them in a cell to think it over. I'm predicting there's going to be a
 
   Iynching mob out front in no time at all, because people have heard by
 
   now that we have a witness who won't step forward, and folks saw me
 
   bring them in." Ryan was so furious with the sheriff his hand
 
   instinctively went to the butt of his gun. He forced himself to stop
 
   before he did anything he would regret. Cole's hand went to Sloan's
 
   throat. He didn't stop. He was trying to choke some sense into the
 
   lawman when he heard what sounded like a baby laughing.
 
 
 
   Incredulous, he roared, "Are you out of your mind? You locked a baby
 
   in jail? " Ryan was rigid with anger. He sat behind the desk glaring
 
   at the sheriff.
 
 
 
   "Cole, quit choking him so he can explain. I want to hear what he has
 
   to say for himself. He's going to tell me why he would lock three
 
   women and a baby in jail." The second Cole let go, the sheriff started
 
   stammering. "I didn't know what else to do with the little boy. He
 
   wanted to stay with his mama, and he wouldrft listen to reason. He
 
   threw himself down on the floor and had himself a real tantrum. He
 
   isn't a baby, Marshal. He's got to be a year and a half, maybe even
 
   two. He's still wearing nappies, but he can talk, so he can't be a
 
   baby. Babies don't talk, " he added authoritatively.
 
 
 
   The muscle in Ryan's jaw twitched from clenching his teeth together.
 
 
 
   "Where are the keys to the cells? " he demanded.
 
 
 
   "You aren't going to let them out, are you? " "Hell yes, I am, " Ryan
 
   snapped. "Now, tell me where the keys are." 'fThey're hanging on the
 
   peg behind you, " Sloan answered, his attitude insolent. "I did what
 
   had to be done." Ryan ignored the comment. "Is there a back door in
 
   here? " "Yes. It's at the end of the hallway. Why? " Ryan tossed
 
   Cole the ring of keys. "Here's what you're going to do, Sheriff.
 
 
 
   Marshal Clayborne will let the ladies out of the cell. You're going to
 
   wait for them outside the back door, and when they come out, you will
 
   escort them home."
 
 
 
   "You're also going to apologize to them, " Cole interjected. "And you
 
   damned well better sound like you mean it." Sloan took another step
 
   back from Cole. "But I locked them up, " he protested. "If I
 
   apologize, they'll think I don't know what I'm doing.
 
 
 
   " Cole let out a weary sigh. "No, they'll think you're just plain
 
   stupid.
 
 
 
   Now, get going." Tight-lipped and red-faced, the sheriff stomped his
 
   way to the back exit. Cole opened the door that connected the cells to
 
   the main office, ducked under the overhead frame, and started down the
 
   long, narrow corridor. The walls were damp from rain that had seeped
 
   in through the roof, and the air smelled like wet leaves. He suddenly
 
   came to a quick stop. For a second he imagined he was looking at a
 
   priceless painting framed by cold gray stone walls inside an old
 
   museum. Three of the prettiest women he'd ever seen were sitting side
 
   by side on the narrow cot. Shoulders back, heads held high, they were
 
   perfectly still, as though an artist had ordered them to pose that way
 
   for their portrait.
 
 
 
   Cole was completely unprepared for this vision. They were young . .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   they were incredibly beautiful . . . and they were seething with
 
   anger.
 
 
 
   The woman closest to him sat demurely with her hands folded in her
 
   lap.
 
 
 
   Her long black hair fell in soft ringlets to her shoulders, framing a
 
   porcelain complexion and clear green eyes that peered up at him through
 
   thick dark lashes. There was definitely a regal bearing about the
 
   woman, an aristocratic refinement that suggested a wealthy
 
   upbringing.
 
 
 
   She wore a pink walking dress with pearl buttons, but the lace collar
 
   adorning her delicate neck was frayed around the edges. On the seat
 
   next to her lay a wide-brimmed straw hat with pink ribbons, and resting
 
   on the brim was a pair of bright white gloves.
 
 
 
   She had put on a hat to come to jail, Cole surmised with an inward
 
   smile. Only a woman of gentle breeding would do such a thing. Her
 
   gaze was direct, curious, and not at all uppity, and he sensed a
 
   gentleness in her that could withstand any circumstance.
 
 
 
   Seated next to her was the most exquisite beauty Cole had ever seen.
 
 
 
   She was a bold contrast in her richly textured sapphire blue dress.
 
 
 
   Her features were flawlessţalabaster skin, full red lips, patrician
 
   nose, and blue eyes. Her chin tilted up in a haughty gesture of
 
   contempt. Her golden hair was pulled back in a severe bun, which would
 
   have detracted from any other woman's appearance, but only enhanced
 
   hers. Such perfection would take most men's breath away. She knew the
 
   effect she was having on him too. She gave him an impatient look that
 
   suggested he stop gaping at her and get on with it. Obviously used to
 
   turning heads, she had developed a bored, unapproachable demeanor.
 
 
 
   The last of the three was seductive. Her cinnamon-colored hair was
 
   also pulled back, but several wayward tendrils had worked loose and
 
   fell gently to the sides of her oval face. Her frown blended the spray
 
   of freckles across her nose, and her piercing, dark almond-shaped eyes
 
   bored through him. She wore a faded lavender dress with the sleeves
 
   rolled to her elbows, indicating that she had been interrupted from a
 
   chore to be brought to jail. Her stare was unsettling, and he detected
 
   beneath the smoldering glare a burning passion that wouldn't be
 
   squelched . . . and that was even more unnerving.
 
 
 
   On her lap sat a curly-headed cherub, curious but unaffected by the
 
   unexpected upheaval in his life. He seemed content to sit wrapped in
 
   his mother's arms and was oblivious to the animosity surrounding him.
 
 
 
   They were fit to be tied all right. The hostility radiating from the
 
   three of them would have knocked a lesser man off his feet. If glares
 
   could kill, Cole thought the three beauties would have been throwing
 
   dirt on his grave now. Their pale complexions indicated they weren't
 
   feeling well, and he figured they were also scared. He felt bad about
 
   that. He pulled himself out of his thoughts and moved forward to
 
   unlock the door. As soon as he took a step, the baby turned and buried
 
   his face in his mother's bosom.
 
 
 
   Swinging the door open, he said, "I'm real sorry about this
 
   inconvenience, ladies. I know you would rather be home." The
 
   golden-haired woman stood up first. The other two promptly followed.
 
 
 
   "Who are you? " she demanded.
 
 
 
   "Cole Clayborne, " he answered. "Marshal Clayborne."
 
 
 
   "Are you the man in charge? " Cole shook his head. "No, ma'am.
 
 
 
   Marshal Ryan's in charge."
 
 
 
   "Is he aware that the sheriff in this town is a complete imbecile? "
 
   The question made Cole smile. "He's beginning to get that idea,
 
   ma'am." His honesty deflected some of their hostility. "Then neither
 
   you nor Marshal Ryan gave the order that we be locked up like common
 
   criminals? " "No, neither one of us gave that order."
 
 
 
   "Sheriff Sloan is power hungry and ignorant. It's a dangerous
 
   combination, " she muttered. She glanced at the other two women, and
 
   then nodded. "Very well. We shall save our wrath for the sheriff.
 
 
 
   Allow me to introduce myself, Marshal Clayborne. My name's Rebecca
 
   James, and I was rudely ordered out of my sickbed by the sheriff. He
 
   made quite a scene in the lobby, and I was horribly embarrassed and
 
   feeling quite ill at the time. The dear lady on my left is Grace
 
   Winthrop. She came here all the way from England because she heard all
 
   about our wonderful country.
 
 
 
   And how does this town show their hospitality? They lock her in
 
   jail.
 
 
 
   " She was getting all worked up again. "Miss James, if you would
 
   calmţ" She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "And last but
 
   certainly not least, I would like to introduce you to Jessica Summers
 
   and her son, Caleb. She was just about to feed her baby supper when
 
   she was ripped out of her home and dragged here."
 
 
 
   "I'm sure she was neither ripped nor dragged, " he argued, though a
 
   part of him wouldn't have put it past Sloan to do such a stupid
 
   thing.
 
 
 
   "As I said before, I'm real sorry about the inconvenience."
 
 
 
   "Inconvenience? It's an atrocity, " Rebecca cried out.
 
 
 
   Both Grace Winthrop and Jessica Summers nodded their agreement.
 
 
 
   It was apparent to Cole that while they had been locked up together,
 
   Rebecca had taken on the role of speaker for all of them Grace and
 
   Jessica both seemed content to let her do their talking. It was also
 
   evident that the three of them were united in their outrage.
 
 
 
   "Are you certain Marshal Ryan didn't give the order to lock us up? "
 
   she asked once again.
 
 
 
   "No, I didn't give that order." Ryan answered the question from the
 
   doorway. Cole noticed he was staring at the three women with a look of
 
   surprise on his face. He was obviously reacting to the sight the very
 
   same way Cole had.
 
 
 
   "Ladies, if you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate it if you would stay
 
   inside the cell for a few more minutes." Rebecca took a step forward
 
   and answered for all of them. "We most certainly do mind. Come along,
 
   ladies. We're leaving this vile place." Cole had only just noticed
 
   the rifle in Ryan's hands when Rebecca tried to get past him. His arm
 
   shot out to block her.
 
 
 
   "I think you'd better wait here a little longer, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   "I cannot believe such rudeness, " she declared before she backed
 
   away.
 
 
 
   Jessica tried to get past him then. He shifted so that he blocked her
 
   with his body.
 
 
 
   They stood toe-to-toe. She didn't back away, and so he gave her a look
 
   that suggested she shouldn't tangle with him.
 
 
 
   She gave him the identical look. Hell, she was better at it than he
 
   was. She didn't even blink. She could stare a rattlesnake down, he
 
   thought to himself, and, Lord, she smelled good. Like fresh air and
 
   flowers. He quit scowling at her. It wasn't working anyway, and it
 
   was his own fault because he wasn't concentrating. He couldn't seem to
 
   get past the fact that she had such pretty eyes.
 
 
 
   "Cole, we've got a little situation developing out front. I could use
 
   your help, " Ryan said.
 
 
 
   The baby was peeking up at him. Cole winked at him, then swung the
 
   door closed in his mother's face. He locked the door and went back to
 
   the front office, her outrage ringing in his ears.
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   he little situation turned out to be a mob. Ryan had left the front
 
   door open and stood on the boardwalk with the rifle at his side. He
 
   was in the process of trying to convince forty to fifty angry men to go
 
   back home.
 
 
 
   "I'm ordering you to disperse, " Ryan shouted. "Go home and let us do
 
   our jobs." A man near the middle of the group shouted, "Give us the
 
   women. We'll get them to talk." Curious, Cole shouted, "How are you
 
   going to do that? " "We'll hang them, that's how, " he answered in a
 
   bellow.
 
 
 
   "That makes a lot of sense, " he muttered to Ryan.
 
 
 
   Ryan glanced over at him. "You can't reason with angry people. "
 
   "They aren't angry. They're just a little riled up. That's all. You
 
   want angry, go back inside and let those women out. They're going to
 
   flay you alive." Ryan hid his smile. "All right. You take care of
 
   this crowd, and I'll take care of the women."
 
 
 
   "Deal, " Cole agreed.
 
 
 
   He stepped forward to address the men. "No one's going to hang
 
   anyone.
 
 
 
   You've all been listening to idle gossip. We don't have a witness. "
 
   , We read it in the paper that you do, " a man in front shouted.
 
 
 
   "The paper's wrong."
 
 
 
   "Then why did the sheriff lock those women up?
 
 
 
   " someone yelled.
 
 
 
   "You'll have to ask him, " Cole replied. "Now go back home."
 
 
 
   "Why don't you and the other marshal go home and let our sheriff take
 
   care of the women? He'll get them to talk." Before Cole could answer,
 
   a man in front stepped forward and turned around to face his friends
 
   and neighbors. He put his hands in the air to hush them. "I know for
 
   a fact that the lady with the funny accent was in the bank before it
 
   got robbed. I stood in line with her, and I heard her talking to the
 
   teller."
 
 
 
   "Then it's got to be one of them other two, " yet another man called
 
   out. "Did anyone see either one of them in the bank? " "I did, " a
 
   man in the back shouted. "I seen the yellow-haired woman when I was
 
   getting change for my bills from Malcolm. I remember her real good
 
   cause she was about the prettiest thing I ever laid my eyes on." A
 
   snicker rolled through the crowd. "What about the woman with the
 
   baby?
 
 
 
   " "I seen her, " a man called out. "The boy made MacCorkle angry
 
   because he was swinging on his gate, and his mama had to get out of
 
   line to fetch him. She blistered old man MacCorkle good for raising
 
   his voice to her young'n."
 
 
 
   "If all of them women were seen in the bank, then it don't appear we
 
   got a witness after all, " the placater, waving his hands in front of
 
   the crowd, concluded.
 
 
 
   "Maybe one of them sneaked back inside to hide under the desk, "
 
   someone else suggested.
 
 
 
   "These people aren't real bright, are they? " Cole whispered to
 
   Ryan.
 
 
 
   "Sloan has gotten them all worked up, " Ryan said.
 
 
 
   "All right, " Cole shouted to the group. "Here's what's gonna
 
   happen.
 
 
 
   All of you are going to go home. I want you to think about what you
 
   were doing on the day of the robbery. If any of you saw or heard
 
   anything unusual, then come back to the jail tomorrow morning and tell
 
   us about it."
 
 
 
   "You don't have the right to tell us what to do, " a man near the edge
 
   of the crowd shouted. Cole recognized him. He was the reporter from
 
   the Rockford Falls Gazette who didn't want the bodies covered with
 
   sheets.
 
 
 
   Cole had taken an instant dislike to the man.
 
 
 
   The reporter took a step forward. His eyes darted back and forth from
 
   the crowd to the marshals. "This is a local matter, Marshal. Sheriff
 
   Sloan ought to handle it."
 
 
 
   "Federal money was stolen, " Ryan shouted.
 
 
 
   "And that makes it our business. Do as Marshal Clayborne ordered. Go
 
   home and let us do our job."
 
 
 
   "I'm not going anywhere until I talk to those women, " the reporter
 
   shouted.
 
 
 
   Cole wasn't in the mood to argue any longer. Quicker than the man
 
   could blink, he drew his gun and shot the hat off the reporter's
 
   head.
 
 
 
   "You had no right to do that, " the reporter screamed.
 
 
 
   "Sure I did, " he answered. "Marshal Ryan explained I can't be tried
 
   for murder now that I'm a U. S. marshal, so the way I figure it, I can
 
   shoot every one of you and get away with it. This is the last time I'm
 
   going to tell you. Go home."
 
 
 
   "Cole? " Ryan whispered his name.
 
 
 
   He kept his attention centered on the crowd as he answered. "Yeah? "
 
   "I made that up." Cole smiled. "They don't know that." The marshals
 
   continued to stand their ground until the crowd ran out of steam.
 
 
 
   Grumbling to themselves, the mob dispersed. Then Ryan let the ladies
 
   out.
 
 
 
   Ten minutes later Sloan came slinking around the corner. He had
 
   escorted the ladies home and was returning with a proclamation from
 
   themţif they were to suffer an inquisition, it was best to get it over
 
   with tonight so that they wouldn't have to worry about it any longer.
 
 
 
   Ryan and Cole decided to accommodate the women. They started with
 
   Rebecca James.
 
 
 
   She was staying at the Rockford Falls Hotel, where Cole and Ryan had
 
   also taken rooms. The old, four-story building was located one block
 
   north of the jail on Elm Street. A veranda circled the hotel on three
 
   sides. One of the housemaids was sent up to tell Rebecca the marshals
 
   were waiting for her on the porch.
 
 
 
   The sunlight was fading, and a cool breeze was a welcome respite after
 
   the blistering heat of the day.
 
 
 
   "We won't learn anything important, " Cole predicted. "We already know
 
   all three of the women were spotted in the bank earlier in the
 
   afternoon. Talking to them is a wasted effort. What could they have
 
   seen? " "We won't know the answer to that question until we talk to
 
   them. It shouldn't take long." Thirty minutes later, he had to revise
 
   his estimate. Rebecca kept them waiting until well after eight
 
   o'clock. Cole paced around the veranda.
 
 
 
   Ryan was sprawled out in one of the wicker chairs when Rebecca finally
 
   arrived. She didn't apologize for being late, and from the expression
 
   on her face as she walked across the porch to join them, they could
 
   tell she was still fuming.
 
 
 
   Ryan stood up as soon as he spotted her coming toward him. He waited
 
   for her to take her seat, then pulled up another chair to face her.
 
 
 
   Cole leaned back against the railing and folded his arms across his
 
   chest.
 
 
 
   She sat on the edge of the chair, her back straight and her hands in
 
   her lap. She was furious all right, and if she became any more upset,
 
   Cole thought smoke would start pouring out of her ears.
 
 
 
   He leaned back, content to let Ryan question the woman while he watched
 
   her. He knew he was being rude, he didn't care. The woman was
 
   magnificent. He searched for a flaw, hoping that if he found one, he
 
   would be able to get past his fascination with her.
 
 
 
   Ryan was also staring intently, and Cole wondered if he was playing the
 
   same game.
 
 
 
   "We appreciate your cooperation, " Ryan began. "And we're both sorry
 
   about the trouble earlier."
 
 
 
   "I don't believe I'll be much help with your investigation, " she
 
   said.
 
 
 
   "But I'll be happy to answer your questions. Then I'm going to leave
 
   this horrible town and never look back. The town is charming, I'll
 
   admit, and the waterfalls are spectacular, but the people are a bit
 
   backward, and since the rumor was put in the paper, it's been very
 
   difficult. I'm happy I'll be getting back home."
 
 
 
   "Where is home? " Ryan asked.
 
 
 
   "St. Louis. I had planned to leave a couple of days ago to meet some
 
   friends in Salt Lake City, but then I became ill and had to delay my
 
   trip."
 
 
 
   "Are you feeling better now? " "A little, thank you. The doctor told
 
   me I was fortunate because I have only a mild case."
 
 
 
   "Are you originally from St. Louis? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "I grew up in the east, " she explained. "I moved to St. Louis to be
 
   near close friends." She turned back to Ryan. "I thought you wanted
 
   to talk about the robbery."
 
 
 
   "We do, " Ryan answered. "Do you remember what time you were in the
 
   bank? " She took several seconds to answer. "As a matter of fact, I
 
   do remember. I was inside the bank at two o'clock, give or take ten
 
   minutes. I stood in line, but I don't remember any of the other people
 
   who were there. I wasn't paying any attention to them. I'm sure
 
   someone will remember seeing me there.
 
 
 
   Are you writing down every word I say on paper? " Ryan glanced up and
 
   smiled. "I'm trying to, " he said.
 
 
 
   "Why? " He leaned back in the chair, finished jotting down his notes,
 
   and then said, "There have been so many robberies, it's the only way I
 
   can keep the information straight. Does it bother you? " She shook
 
   her head. "No, I simply found it curious, that's all." Sheriff Sloan
 
   interrupted the questioning when he came lumbering up the steps. He
 
   looked sheepish, and as soon as he saw the marshals' hostile
 
   expressions, he turned around and tried to leave.
 
 
 
   Ryan's voice lashed out at him. "Sit." As quick as a trained dog,
 
   Sloan obeyed the command. He grabbed the nearest chair and fell into
 
   it.
 
 
 
   "You have caused considerable trouble, Sheriff, " Rebecca said.
 
 
 
   "Because of you, people in this town believe there was a witness to the
 
   robbery and murders at the bank. I read the article in the paper. So
 
   did everyone else. You were quoted numerous times. Do you have any
 
   idea what you've done? If the men who murdered all those people read
 
   the Rockford Falls Gazette or hear the rumors you started, they'll come
 
   back here and kill Jessica and Grace and me. My God, don't you realize
 
   what those fiends are capable of? They've already killed other
 
   women.
 
 
 
   They certainly wouldn't think twice about killing three more. "
 
   "Ma'am, I wouldn't fret about the Blackwater gang coming back here.
 
 
 
   They've probably left the territory by now." His cavalier attitude
 
   infuriated her. "Witnesses don't last long, " she cried out. "Every
 
   one knows what happened to that poor man in Middleton.
 
 
 
   I believe those murderers killed his wife too, didn't they? If either
 
   Grace or Jessica had been in the bank during the holdup, do you
 
   honestly think she'd admit it? She'd be signing her death warrant. "
 
   "I'm real sorry about your situation, " Sloan said. He blushed with
 
   embarrassment. "I wouldn't worry about the gang reading our little
 
   paper, though. No one outside Rockford reads the Gazette, " he added
 
   in a halfhearted attempt to placate her. "And I didn't have a choice
 
   about the interview. That reporter was hounding me for details, and I
 
   am the authority in this town. I had a duty to tell him what I knew,
 
   but all I remember saying was that the marshals happened to find a
 
   purse under one of the desks.
 
 
 
   He jumped to his own conclusions." After giving his explanation, Sloan
 
   stood up and excused himself. "I promised a lady friend that we'd go
 
   out walking, and she's waiting for me inside. Did you need me to hang
 
   around, Marshal Ryan? " "No, " Ryan answered.
 
 
 
   Rebecca waited until Sloan left the porch with the silly little woman
 
   giggling on his arm before continuing. "The sheriff showed all of us
 
   the purse. It doesn't belong to me. I never carry one, " she added.
 
 
 
   "May I leave now? I really would like to go to bed. It's been an
 
   exhausting day."
 
 
 
   "I don't have any other questions at the moment, " Ryan said. He
 
   closed his notepad and looked at Cole. "Do you? " "Just one, " Cole
 
   answered. "How long will you be staying in town? " "Until the day
 
   after tomorrow when the coach comes through again." Ryan offered
 
   Rebecca his hand to help her stand. She looked startled by the
 
   gentlemanly gesture and hesitantly took hold of him.
 
 
 
   "You aren't going to bother Jessica and Grace tonight, are you? It's
 
   already well after eight, " she said. "They were both so weary this
 
   afternoon. Neither one of them is feeling well, " she added. "You
 
   should let them get a good night's sleep before you hound them with
 
   questions.
 
 
 
   Good night, gentlemen." They watched her walk away. Each was lost in
 
   his own thoughts until she paused in the doorway and looked at them
 
   again. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Because she had been as cool
 
   as ice during the questioning, the emotional display surprised them.
 
 
 
   "Are you ever going to catch those horrible men? Do you have any leads
 
   at all? The sheriff told me you didn't, but I was hoping he was
 
   wrong.
 
 
 
   " Ryan's shoulders slumped. "No, we don't have any leads now, but that
 
   could change."
 
 
 
   "One thing's certain, " Cole interjected. "We will catch ihem. It's
 
   only a matter of time. You can count on it."
 
 
 
   "Yes, of course you'll catch them, " she said. "If you think of any
 
   other questions, I'll be here." Once she was inside, Cole muttered an
 
   imprecation. "I don't like being a marshal. It's depressing."
 
 
 
   "You know what's really bothering you? You feel sorry for all three of
 
   the women, don't you? " "Yeah, I do. Thanks to Sloan's incompetence,
 
   those ladies have been thrown into the middle of a boiling pot. They
 
   shouldn't have to be afraid. Besides, it's pretty certain none of them
 
   was in the bank during the robbery, but now everyone in town thinks one
 
   of them was. Folks around here don't think things through, do they? I
 
   guess I hated seeing Rebecca so scared."
 
 
 
   "I can't blame her for being afraid, " Ryan said. "She knows what the
 
   Blackwater gang can do."
 
 
 
   "Do you think any of them will come back to Rockford Falls? Would they
 
   go to such an extreme because of a rumor?
 
 
 
   " "People believe what they read in the paper. It would be a lucky
 
   break for us if they did come back. Stop glaring at me, Cole. I'm
 
   only being honest. It would be a break, and God knows we're due for
 
   one. We can protect the women.
 
 
 
   Come on, let's go talk to Jessica Summers and Grace Winthrop."
 
 
 
   "It seems kind of pointless, " Cole said. "They didn't see anything.
 
 
 
   " "We have to go through the motions, " Ryan stubbornly insisted. "And
 
   by the way, you're supposed to take notes during the interviews. "
 
   "You take them. I hate paperwork. Besides, I can remember what
 
   everyone said."
 
 
 
   "Maybe now you can, but later, after one or two more robberies, all the
 
   names and dates start blending together."
 
 
 
   "Then I guess we better catch the bastards before they rob again."
 
 
 
   Hungry and weary, he grudgingly followed Ryan down the steps. "Rebecca
 
   told us that Jessica and Grace were exhausted. Remember? Maybe we
 
   ought to wait until tomorrow to talk to them."
 
 
 
   "No, I want to talk to them now." Cole gave up trying to argue with
 
   him. He found the job of marshal incredibly frustrating thus far. He
 
   wanted to act. Sorting through the mire of paperwork and talking to
 
   potential witnesses was like putting an intricate puzzle together. One
 
   had to be patient, and Cole hadn't quite learned how to accomplish that
 
   feat.
 
 
 
   The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that
 
   wij illy MacGuire's boardinghouse was at the end of Elm Street, a
 
   winding road lined with hundred-year-old trees. The front door of the
 
   hotel where Rebecca was staying actually faced the front door of the
 
   house, but because of the meandering road and the trees, it wasn't
 
   possible to see one building from the other.
 
 
 
   The old homestead had just been treated to a fresh coat of white
 
   paint.
 
 
 
   The trim of the window shutters and the doors was a dark burgundy
 
   red.
 
 
 
   The color matched the lounging chairs scattered about the porch. The
 
   pristine house sat back from the white picket fence that surrounded the
 
   property, and while that too had recently been painted, tenacious spurs
 
   of ivy were already working their way back up the slats.
 
 
 
   Both the house and the rambling lawn in front were shaded by a cluster
 
   of ancient walnut trees on either side of the porch. The leafy giant
 
   sentinels stood guard over the occupants inside. A faint breeze moved
 
   unnoticed through the massive limbs that arched out to one another over
 
   the gabled roof.
 
 
 
   Tilly MacGuire's home was a charming, idyllic place to raise a brood of
 
   children, and she had done just that. The spry sixty-five-year-old
 
   woman had married at age fourteen, produced eight offspringţall
 
   girlsţbut after her youngest had married and moved away and her third
 
   husband had passed on, she converted her six-bedroom home to a boarding
 
   facility.
 
 
 
   She didn't need the money, she needed the companionship. She was a
 
   discriminating landlord and chose aKs boarders only those ladies for
 
   whom she felt a kinship. She boasted of being a stickler for rules.
 
 
 
   Men weren't allowed above the first floor, no matter what the reason,
 
   her ladies had to be home by ten o'clock every night, including
 
   Saturday, they must attend church with her on Sunday morning, and none
 
   of them could miss supper. Her houseguests put up with the regulations
 
   for the simple reason that as long as they followed the rules, they
 
   were gloriously pampered. The food was always delicious and plentiful,
 
   the bedrooms were spacious and beautifully adorned, and the linens were
 
   changed every other day. More important than the luxuries, though, was
 
   Tilly herself. She was a sweet-hearted woman who treated her selected
 
   guests like long-lost family members.
 
 
 
   If the truth were known, Tilly was also a real softy under her tough,
 
   no-nonsense exterior. She had already broken one of her ironclad rules
 
   by allowing Jessica and her son to stay with her. Since her own
 
   children were grown, Tilly didn't allow babies or children because of
 
   the mess they made, but little Caleb turned out to be her one
 
   exception. The toddler, a pistol if ever there was one, stole her
 
   heart when he batted his big brown eyes and stuck his tongue out at
 
   her.
 
 
 
   She was laughing at the baby's antics when the marshals knocked on her
 
   screen door. Tilly was a little acorn of a woman with sparkling eyes
 
   and deep-set wrinkles. She was smiling until she spotted their
 
   badges.
 
 
 
   Latching on to Caleb's hand, she slowly walked to the door.
 
 
 
   "You're here to question my girls, aren't you? " "Yes, ma'am, we are,
 
   " Ryan answered.
 
 
 
   Her frown intensified. "They're both worried and scared, and only just
 
   getting over a hard bout of influenza. Poor Jessica was almost well
 
   and then suffered a setback. She was throwing up most of Wednesday
 
   evening. It's a shame those girls have got to be scared too.
 
 
 
   You might as well come on inside. They're both in the kitchen doing my
 
   dishes. I don't regularly allow houseguests to set foot in the back of
 
   my house, but my hired girls are both home sick, and I'm feeling a
 
   little puny myself tonight, so I'm breaking my own rule. I can do
 
   that, " she hastily added, "because this is my home. Do you want to
 
   talk to both of them together? I'll let you sit at my kitchen table if
 
   you do." The freshly scrubbed baby was clutching a rag doll by its
 
   hair and looking up at Cole. He pulled his hand free from Tilly's
 
   grasp and put his thumb in his mouth.
 
 
 
   "We'd prefer to talk to each one separately, " Ryan said. "If you
 
   wouldn't mind asking Jessica Summers to come out on the porch, we'll
 
   wait here."
 
 
 
   "Go find your mama, boy, " she ordered the child.
 
 
 
   The baby pulled his thumb out of his mouth long enough to shout, "No, "
 
   then turned around and went running toward the back of the house.
 
 
 
   Tilly grinned." No' is that baby's favorite word. He must say it a
 
   good hundred times a day. He isn't sassy or slow-witted, though, just
 
   stubborn." She glanced behind her to make certain the baby was out of
 
   earshot before she spoke again. "Like I was saying, Jessica and Grace
 
   are scared as rabbits, and it's all because of that rumor someone
 
   started, saying one of them was a witness to the murders. It was even
 
   written down in the paper. Now, my girls didn't see anything because
 
   they would have told me if they had. I don't want to be hearing you
 
   marshals browbeat them with your questions either. You hear me? "
 
   "Yes, ma'am, we hear you, " Cole replied.
 
 
 
   "I'll go get Jessica, " she said. "Then I'm going upstairs with a pot
 
   of tea Grace is kindly brewing for me, but I'll be back down to lock my
 
   doors at ten o'clock on the dot. You expect to be finished by then,
 
   don't you? " "Yes, ma'am, we do, " Ryan answered.
 
 
 
   Tilly wasn't quite ready to leave. She had something more to say to
 
   the marshals, and whenever she wanted to speak her mind, she did
 
   exactly that, believing that time was too precious to waste dancing
 
   around a sensitive topic.
 
 
 
   "It's a crying shame the way this town is acting. Just because my
 
   girls haven't been here long, they're fair targets for every rumor. I
 
   feel sorry for poor Rebecca James too. She was feeling just as poorly
 
   as my girls. Have you hounded her with questions yet? " Ryan didn't
 
   answer. "When did you happen to meet Rebecca? " "At church Sunday
 
   last, " she answered. "We had us a nice talk after services, and she
 
   told me she was considering moving into my house because her hotel room
 
   was so cramped. She would have been welcome, " she added, "And I'm
 
   persnickety in my old age, but I took to her right away.
 
 
 
   She's got a good heart. Why, she was even nice to nasty old Lemont
 
   Morganstaff. She made him blush with her compliments about his
 
   garden.
 
 
 
   " "How many boarders do you take in? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "There's room for five, but I only have two now. Just Grace and
 
   Jessica, and the baby of course." Caleb came running past Tilly,
 
   pushed the door open, and scurried outside before she could grab hold
 
   of him. The little boy was dressed in a white cotton gown that came
 
   down to his ankles. He was barefoot and full of mischief.
 
 
 
   "I'll let you boys keep an eye on that critter while I hunt Jessica
 
   down. Then I'll take Caleb upstairs because I promised him a story. "
 
   She was turning away when Cole stopped her with a question. "Ma'am?
 
 
 
   Where's the boy's father? " "That's a good question, and if I were at
 
   liberty to talk about it, I'd tell you where I think he is, but I gave
 
   my word to Jessica to keep my mouth shut. I can tell you that sweet
 
   boy's mama died giving birth, " she added. "Her husband wasn't at her
 
   side, though. No, sir, he wasn't."
 
 
 
   "Jessica isn't the boy's mother?
 
 
 
   " Daniel asked.
 
 
 
   "Caleb thinks she's his mama because she's been taking care of him for
 
   so long, but she isn't his blood mother."
 
 
 
   "Is Caleb's father dead or alive? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "I don't honestly know, " she answered with a scowl. "But I'm hoping
 
   he's drunk himself to death by now. I'm not going to say another word
 
   about him, " she vowed. "You'll have to ask Jessica for the details.
 
 
 
   " She disappeared into the dining room. Cole and Ryan both turned to
 
   look down at the baby. Caleb was standing near the front steps,
 
   grinning up at them. All of a sudden he dropped to his knees and
 
   crawled backward.
 
 
 
   He wasn't housebroken yet, and when he tried to shimmy down the front
 
   steps on his belly, the ties on his diaper came loose.
 
 
 
   "Where do you think you're going? " Cole asked as he bent down and
 
   picked the baby up in his arms. Ryan grabbed hold of the diaper before
 
   it slipped past Caleb's thighs and quickly retied the straps. Caleb
 
   dropped the rag doll and reached for Ryan's badge.
 
 
 
   "You act like you know what you're doing, " Cole remarked, ignoring the
 
   baby's squirming and grunting to get down.
 
 
 
   "I've had a little experience."
 
 
 
   "Nieces and nephews? " "No. A daughter." He patted the baby before
 
   walking away. "He smells like apples and soap. It brings back
 
   memories." He crossed the porch and leaned against a post, staring out
 
   into the darkness. "I'm tired tonight, " he remarked.
 
 
 
   "I didn't know you were married."
 
 
 
   "You never asked." His voice had taken on a hard edge, an unspoken
 
   suggestion to let the topic go. Cole was too curious to take the
 
   hint.
 
 
 
   "How long have you been married? " "It would have been seven years
 
   last month."
 
 
 
   "Would have been? " Ryan nodded. "They're both dead." Cole's mind
 
   began to race with questions.
 
 
 
   "When did you say you started working on this investigation? " "I
 
   didn't say."
 
 
 
   "Okay, you didn't tell me. So when did you? " "I was appointed to
 
   head the special force after one of the robberies."
 
 
 
   "Quit being so evasive. Tell me which one of the robberies it was."
 
 
 
   "Dillon, " Ryan answered. "After the robbery at Dillon."
 
 
 
   "Your hometown."
 
 
 
   "Yes, my hometown." Silence settled between them as Cole recalled the
 
   accounts he had heard of Dillon.
 
 
 
   "Did your wife and daughter get sick? " he finally asked.
 
 
 
   "Stop asking so many questions, Cole."
 
 
 
   "Did they? " he persisted.
 
 
 
   Ryan shook his head. "No, they didn't get sick. They were simply in
 
   the wrong place at the wrong time." Cole let out a long breath. "Ah
 
   .
 
 
 
   . . hell, Daniel. They're the ones, aren't they? " Ct <v/ssica
 
   Summers stood at the kitchen counter and stared out the window,
 
   daydreaming. She was trying to recall what it had felt like to be
 
   carefree.
 
 
 
   She couldn't remember.
 
 
 
   She was tired tonight, and surely that was why her burdens and worries
 
   seemed so overwhelming to her now. There had been so many changes in
 
   her life over the past two years, and lately there were moments when
 
   she felt like an old woman.
 
 
 
   This was one of those moments. She wasn't feeling sorry for
 
   herselfţthere simply wasn't time in her busy day for such a silly
 
   self-indulgenceţand as weary as she was, she was still able to thank
 
   God for the blessing he had bestowed on her by giving her little
 
   Caleb.
 
 
 
   She couldn't imagine life without him, as chaotic as it sometimes
 
   seemed.
 
 
 
   Forcing herself to get back to the task at hand, she picked up a wet
 
   cloth and began to wash one of Tilly's prize Redbird china plates.
 
 
 
   Water splashed her skirt. She looked down and noticed for the first
 
   time how old and faded the dress was. It didn't quite fit anymore,
 
   the bodice was uncomfortably tight across her chest, but all she had to
 
   do was move the buttons, if and when she found the time, and then the
 
   dress would be almost as good as new. She certainly wasn't about to
 
   throw it away as Tilly had suggested, because that would be a waste,
 
   and she couldn't afford to waste anything these days. Besides, the
 
   dress was serviceable and she was quite fond of the color. Age, wear,
 
   and countless washings had turned the bright lavender material a much
 
   paler shade. Tilly had told her it looked like an old, used
 
   hand-me-down, and Jessica had shrugged indifference. The dress was
 
   decent, and that was all that mattered.
 
 
 
   Lord, how her priorities had changed. She remembered another dress she
 
   had coveted a lifetime ago when such frivolous things actually mattered
 
   to her. She had noticed the dress in a shop window and thought it was
 
   the most glorious creation she had ever seen. The gown was white
 
   brocade with a wide red velvet sash. Jessica smiled as she recalled
 
   how she had vowed to save enough money to one day buy the impractical
 
   dress.
 
 
 
   Her dreams were different now, of course. She never thought about
 
   suitors or dances or parties any longer. She had been a foolish,
 
   empty-headed young girl back then. Now she was an adult with
 
   responsibilities. Her only dream was to be the best mother Caleb could
 
   ever have.
 
 
 
   Tilly pulled her back to the present with the announcement that the
 
   marshals would like to talk to her.
 
 
 
   "They're waiting on the porch for you, " she said.
 
 
 
   "I'll go right out, " Jessica promised.
 
 
 
   Five minutes later, she was still standing at the kitchen counter. She
 
   knew she was being rude by keeping the marshals waiting, but she was so
 
   nervous and frightened, she couldn't seem to make herself go outside.
 
 
 
   She delayed the inevitable for as long as possible by insisting on
 
   helping her new friend, Grace Winthrop, finish the dishes and put the
 
   food away.
 
 
 
   Grace was completely out of place in a kitchen. Jessica didn't think
 
   she had ever been inside one until she moved into Tilly's
 
   boardinghouse, but what she lacked in experience she made up for with
 
   her enthusiasm. She was determined to learn how to cook a decent meal,
 
   and there wasn't any chore beneath her. Yesterday she had taken off
 
   her gloves and hat, put on one of Tilly's old aprons, and got down on
 
   her hands and knees to scrub the floor. It had taken her twice as long
 
   as it would have taken Jessica, but when she was finished, the wood had
 
   a nice shine.
 
 
 
   The two women had become good friends. F, ach was lost in her own
 
   thoughts as they worked side by side.
 
 
 
   "I'm scared, " Jessica whispered. "I don't want to talk to them. "
 
   "I'm scared too, " Grace admitted. "After they finish questioning you,
 
   they'll probably want to talk to me. Maybe Tilly could convince them
 
   to come back tomorrow." Jessica shook her head. "Then I'd worry all
 
   night. I want to get it over and done with now. Otherwise I won't
 
   sleep."
 
 
 
   "Have you thought about my proposition? Mr. Nelson needs to know if
 
   I'm going to purchase his wagon or not. I promised to let him know in
 
   the morning. He let me drive it over here, " she added.
 
 
 
   "I know, " Jessica whispered back. "I can see it in the field behind
 
   the yard from my window. Yes, I have made up my mind. If you're sure
 
   we won't be a burden, Caleb and I would love to go with you." Grace
 
   let out a sigh. "I'm so thankful, " she said. "Of course you won't be
 
   a burden. I'll admit now I don't think I could manage the horses
 
   without help."
 
 
 
   "We'll manage together, " Jessica promised.
 
 
 
   Tilly came back to the kitchen to find out why Jessica was taking so
 
   long and decided it was up to her to give her a little nudge.
 
 
 
   "They aren't going to go away, girl, " she began. "You might as well
 
   get on out there and talk to them, and while you're answering their
 
   questions, you might want to take the time to notice what fine-looking
 
   men the marshals are. It's been a long while since I've seen such big,
 
   masculine men. They might give you a scare at first sight, seeing as
 
   how they're both so ruggedlooking, but if you'll look in their eyes,
 
   you'll see the kindness there and you'll get over your shivers then.
 
 
 
   Both of those boys have real pretty blue eyes." Jessica forced a smile
 
   in an attempt to hide her nervousness. "Why would I want to notice how
 
   fine looking they are? " Exasperated, Tilly put her hands on her hips
 
   and made a tisking sound.
 
 
 
   "Because now you have that little bit of a boy to see raised and it
 
   wouldn't hurt you to have a strong man helping." Jessica folded the
 
   damp cloth and put it down on the countertop. "I know you mean well,
 
   but I don't. need a man to help me raise Caleb. We're doing just fine
 
   the way we are."
 
 
 
   "Hogwash, " Tilly said. "I know you've got the spirit and the heart to
 
   do right by that baby, but a man could ease the burden. That's all I'm
 
   saying. If I were forty years younger, I'd go after one of them
 
   myself.
 
 
 
   I'd have a devil of a time deciding which one I wanted to put his shoes
 
   under my bed, though. All I'm suggesting is that you notice, Jessica,
 
   and I want you to notice too, Grace, because a good man would be the
 
   answer to your family's prayers. Jessica, take that ribbon out of your
 
   hair. It's lopsided."
 
 
 
   "Yes, ma'am, " Jessica replied. She pulled the ribbon out and quickly
 
   threaded her fingers through her curly brown tresses. She wasn't
 
   trying to make herself attractive. She was simply placating Tilly.
 
 
 
   "You've got such pretty hair, Jessica. You should show it off, and it
 
   wouldn't kill you to do a little flirting while you're talking to
 
   them.
 
 
 
   I bet you don't even know how. You ought to try, though. Oh, I know
 
   it's a serious matter they're here to discuss, but they're men first
 
   and always, and they'll notice both of you. Grace, while you're
 
   waiting your turn, you can take all those pins out of your hair and
 
   give it a good brushing. Men like women to wear their hair down, not
 
   pinned up like an old schoolmarm." Jessica and Grace had learned that
 
   it was pointless to argue. Tilly was in one of her stubborn,
 
   I-know-what's-best moods.
 
 
 
   Grace was smiling at Tilly, but Jessica noticed her cheeks were flushed
 
   with embarrassment.
 
 
 
   "I guess I should go on out, " Jessica said.
 
 
 
   "I guess you'd better, " Tilly agreed. "I'll take the baby upstairs as
 
   soon as I find him."
 
 
 
   "You don't feel well tonight, Tilly. Go on up and get in bed. I'll
 
   take care of Caleb."
 
 
 
   "I'll brew your tea for you and bring it right up, " Grace added.
 
 
 
   "Jessica, Caleb can stay in the kitchen with me. I'll keep an eye on
 
   him." Jessica took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Lord, I wish
 
   I weren't so nervous." Grace nodded. "I feel like I've done something
 
   wrong, but I haven't.
 
 
 
   Oh, I wish I'd never come to this town. I had such grand hopes . .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   " "I know you did, " Jessica said. "But it was wrong of Mr. Wells's
 
   son not to honor his father's promise. He should have sold you the
 
   grazing land as his father had agreed. A man's word is supposed to be
 
   sacred."
 
 
 
   "The younger Mr. Wells doesn't know that, " Grace said.
 
 
 
   "You're going to find your ranch, " Jessica promised. "We'll look at
 
   the property near Denver first, and if it isn't exactly what you want,
 
   I've heard there's lush grazing land to be found in California. "
 
   "There's so much to be done, and time's running out. I only have seven
 
   months left to purchase the land and buy the cattle, or I must admit
 
   defeat and go back home. If I hadn't wasted so much time here, I could
 
   be in Denver by now."
 
 
 
   "I'm glad you came to Rockford Falls. If you hadn't, I wouldn't have
 
   met you, and I believe we've become good friends." Grace grabbed hold
 
   of Jessica's hand. "Oh, we have become good friends."
 
 
 
   "And now Caleb and I will be going with you to Colorado. Some good did
 
   come out of this, didn't it? " "Will you two girls stop acting like
 
   ninnies. Jessica, get on out to the porch." Tilly's impatience
 
   discouraged further dallying. Straightening her shoulders, Jessica
 
   hurried to the front door. She felt as though she were going to her
 
   own trial, which was ridiculous, of course. She only had to convince
 
   the marshals she hadn't witnessed anything.
 
 
 
   Her hand shook when she reached for the doorknob.
 
 
 
   "Good evening, Marshals. I'm sorry I've kept you waiting." She stood
 
   poised just inside the door and looked serene, yet her hand gripped the
 
   handle tightly, and she appeared ready to bolt. Experience had taught
 
   Daniel Ryan that lawmen made people jittery. He quickly stepped
 
   forward and tried to put her at ease.
 
 
 
   "This should only take a couple of minutes, " he explained.
 
 
 
   She glanced from one marshal to the other. Neither one of them was
 
   smiling. Marshal Ryan looked earnest, but Marshal Clayborne looked
 
   bored leaning against the railing. Lord, Tilly had been right. Both
 
   men oozed masculinity.
 
 
 
   "It's routine, " Cole remarked.
 
 
 
   She nodded. "Yes, I understand." He smiled. "It would probably be
 
   easier if you came out on the porch." She took a quick breath and told
 
   herself to stop trembling as she walked over to one of the wicker
 
   chairs and sat down. She folded her hands in her lap and pressed her
 
   knees and ankles together so they wouldn't shake. Then she waited for
 
   one or both of the marshals to begin.
 
 
 
   "I guess we should introduce ourselves, " Ryan began. He dragged a
 
   chair across the porch to face her.
 
 
 
   "That isn't necessary. I know who you are. You're Marshal Daniel
 
   Ryan, and he's Marshal Cole Clayborne. We met at the jail, remember?
 
 
 
   " Ryan straddled his chair, and Cole stood a few feet behind.
 
 
 
   She stared up at him. "You don't look like a lawman, " she blurted
 
   out.
 
 
 
   Her eyes turned back to Ryan. "And neither do you."
 
 
 
   "What do we look like? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "Outlaws."
 
 
 
   "We look like outlaws? " Cole asked, laughing.
 
 
 
   Their smiles helped, and she began to relax. She wanted Cole to sit
 
   down. The man towered over her, and a day's growth of whiskers made
 
   him seem menacing. Daniel looked just as ragged. She had to remind
 
   herself that both of them were marshals and it was, therefore, their
 
   duty to protect innocent citizens. She just needed to let them know
 
   she belonged in that group.
 
 
 
   "I haven't done anything wrong." Daniel nodded. "We know you
 
   haven't.
 
 
 
   Lawmen make people jumpy. I'm not sure why."
 
 
 
   "I know why, " she replied. "You have the power to lock me in jail, "
 
   she explained.
 
 
 
   "Not without a good legal reason, " he countered.
 
 
 
   She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? I was locked in jail this
 
   afternoon, and there certainly wasn't a good legal reason then."
 
 
 
   "We didn't know Sheriff Sloan would go to such lengths, " Cole
 
   interjected.
 
 
 
   "He was convinced one of us was lying, but that still isn't a good
 
   reason to lock someone in jail, is it? " She noticed Daniel remove a
 
   notepad and pencil from his pocket and gave him her full attention.
 
 
 
   "We know you were in the bank the day it was robbed, " he began.
 
 
 
   "Yes, I was. Caleb was with me."
 
 
 
   "Do you happen to remember what time it was? " She smoothed the
 
   wrinkles out of her skirt as she answered, her gaze directed on her
 
   lap. "As a matter of fact, I do remember. I was there at two o'clock,
 
   give or take ten minutes. I went inside and got into line, but I
 
   didn't happen to notice any of the other people there. I wasn't .
 
 
 
   . . " "Paying attention? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "Yes, that's it, " she said. "I wasn't paying attention to anyone
 
   else."
 
 
 
   "You didn't notice anyone in line with you? " Ryan asked with a hint
 
   of skepticism. "I was very busy looking after Caleb. He can be quite
 
   mischievous. The gate fascinated him, and he kept trying to swing on
 
   it. Mr. MacCorkle became very upset and yelled at the baby.
 
 
 
   He made quite a scene. I had my hands full, Marshal, and I simply
 
   didn't have time to notice anyone else." While she'd been explaining,
 
   she kept glancing up at Cole to get his reaction. He had to know she
 
   was nervous because of the way she had rushed through her answer. Slow
 
   down, she told herself, as she gripped her hands together. Slow down
 
   and calm down, or they'll both think I'm hiding something.
 
 
 
   Cole didn't look as if he thought she was guilty of anything. If she
 
   had had to venture a guess, she would have said that the routine
 
   questions were putting him to sleep.
 
 
 
   She turned back to her inquisitor. "I'm sorry I can't be more
 
   helpful.
 
 
 
   " "Don't babies take naps in the afternoon? " Cole asked. "My little
 
   sister always did."
 
 
 
   "Yes, Caleb usually takes his nap right after his noon meal, but his
 
   schedule has gotten all turned around lately. I was sick with
 
   influenza, and because he sleeps in my bedroom, I kept waking him up
 
   all night. He slept late today and then had a late nap. That's why
 
   he's still running around now." She was rambling like an idiot, she
 
   realized, and giving them far too much useless and boring
 
   information.
 
 
 
   "Did Sheriff Sloan show you the bag we found? " "Yes, he did, " she
 
   answered. "He told us he found it under one of the desks. It doesn't
 
   belong to me, " she added emphatically. "I never carry a bag." Ryan
 
   flipped his notepad shut and put it back in his pocket with his
 
   pencil.
 
 
 
   She noticed he hadn't written a single word.
 
 
 
   "Are you positive about the time? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "You're sure you were in the bank at two? " Ryan asked.
 
 
 
   "Give or take ten minutes, " she answered.
 
 
 
   The marshals exchanged a look. Ryan rubbed the back of his neck.
 
 
 
   "Do you have any plans to leave Rockford Falls? " he asked.
 
 
 
   "Yes, I'm planning to leave as soon as possible. Caleb and I leave
 
   tomorrow as a matter of fact. I'll miss Tilly, but I'll be glad to get
 
   away from this town. Ever since the rumors started, I've been very
 
   concerned that the men who killed those poor innocent people will come
 
   back here. They might believe that one of us saw them, and I'm sure
 
   you know what has happened to the witnesses of the other robberies. "
 
   "Yeah, we know, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   "Where are you headed? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "Colorado, " she answered.
 
 
 
   Any further information she might have wanted to add was forgotten when
 
   Caleb came running out on the porch. The baby spotted his rag doll by
 
   the steps and snatched it up by one of its feet. Strutting over to
 
   Cole, he leaned against his leg and grinned up at him.
 
 
 
   Jessica wasn't surprised. Caleb was always initially shy around
 
   strangers, but it never took him long to get over it. He liked men.
 
 
 
   She thought their size and voices fascinated him.
 
 
 
   "It's time for you to go to bed, Caleb, " she said, her voice a
 
   soothing whisper.
 
 
 
   Shaking his head, Caleb pulled his thumb from his mouth long enough to
 
   put his arms up to Cole and let out a loud grunt to be picked up. When
 
   he spied his mother advancing, he dropped his doll to the floor, threw
 
   his arms around Cole's neck, and held on for dear life.
 
 
 
   "I don't think this boy wants to go to bed just yet, " Cole remarked.
 
 
 
   She stood close to Cole and tried to peel her son's hands away from his
 
   neck, but she wasn't paying much attention to what she was doing.
 
 
 
   Tilly was right. The marshal did have beautiful eyes. She wished the
 
   dear woman hadn't made such a fuss over the lawmen's appearance because
 
   now all Jessica could think about was how fit the two of them were. If
 
   Tilly hadn't pointed it out, she surely wouldn't have noticed.
 
 
 
   She wasn't in the market for a husband. The reminder helped her
 
   concentrate on the task at hand.
 
 
 
   "Caleb always goes right to sleep as soon as I tuck him in with his
 
   baby doll, " she explained. "He's going through adifficult phase and
 
   seems to think he has to throw a tantrum at bedtime.
 
 
 
   He's a very good boy, though. Aren't you, Caleb? " The baby nodded
 
   against Cole's neck. Cole stared at Jessica with a look of amusement
 
   in his eyes. She wondered if he knew he was making her
 
   uncomfortable.
 
 
 
   She thought that maybe he did, and, oh, how could she have ever thought
 
   him menacing? His hands were big, yet so very gentle as he patted
 
   Caleb's back in a circular, rhythmic motion. Caleb rubbed his tiny
 
   fist against his nose as he nestled his head under Cole's chin.
 
 
 
   The child looked blissful.
 
 
 
   "You're very good with babies, " she remarked.
 
 
 
   "Mrs. Summers? Would you mind asking Grace Winthrop to come out on
 
   the porch? " The intrusion of Marshal Ryan's voice startled her.
 
 
 
   "Yes, of course, " she stammered.
 
 
 
   "Is it Mrs. Summers? " Cole asked her. "Or Miss? " "It's Jessica, "
 
   she answered as she turned away. "Grace is in the kitchen. If you
 
   like, you could go on in and sit at the table while you question her.
 
 
 
   " "That would be fine, " Daniel answered. He moved ahead to open the
 
   door for her, and Cole followed behind with Caleb. He transferred the
 
   sleepy baby to Jessica's arms when they reached the stairs.
 
 
 
   "The kitchen's at the end of the hallway, " she said.
 
 
 
   While Daniel went on ahead, Cole stood in the entry and watched Jessica
 
   go up the steps. He liked the way she moved. It was sexy and
 
   feminine, and very alluring. He liked her voice too. It was a rich,
 
   husky bedroom voice.
 
 
 
   He told himself it was all right to notice how good she looked and
 
   sounded. There wasn't any harm in appreciating such an attractive
 
   woman.
 
 
 
   It certainly didn't mean he was going to get involved with her. He was
 
   a lawman now, and that probably meant that he couldn't and shouldn't
 
   dally with a potential witness. It just wouldn't be right. Besides,
 
   Jessica Summers came with strings attached. She was carrying one of
 
   them up to bed. Any man who became involved with her would have to
 
   make a lifetime commitment. Forever. The notion didn't sit well with
 
   him. He liked to move around, and no one was going to tie him down.
 
 
 
   She was also innocent, and he had adopted a hands-off policy with
 
   inexperienced women. Their expectations were different. Jessica was
 
   definitely the marrying kind. He wasn't.
 
 
 
   It was as simple as that.
 
 
 
   "Cole, you coming? " With a nod, he caught up with Daniel at the end
 
   of the hallway. "What was that all about? " Daniel whispered with a
 
   nod toward the entry.
 
 
 
   Cole knew what he was asking. He shrugged in response. "Just
 
   noticing.
 
 
 
   That's all." c Li arace Winthrop was standing at the stove. She
 
   turned when they entered the kitchen. Daniel stopped cold, then took
 
   an involuntary step back, bumping Cole.
 
 
 
   He quickly recovered. "Jessica didn't think you would mind if we .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   . " "Oh, please come in, " she said. "I'm brewing tea. Would you and
 
   Marshal Clayborne like a cup? " "That sounds fine, " Daniel said,
 
   pulling out a chair at the table. Cole took the seat across from him,
 
   facing the door.
 
 
 
   "Have you gentlemen had your supper yet? " she asked.
 
 
 
   "No, ma'am, we haven't, " Cole answered.
 
 
 
   "We aren't hungry, " Daniel said at the same time.
 
 
 
   "Yes, we are, " Cole argued.
 
 
 
   Grace went to the counter and returned with a plate of leftover ham.
 
 
 
   She placed it on the table next to a basket of freshly baked bread and
 
   a crock of butter. A minute later she'd added plates and utensils.
 
 
 
   Cole helped himself. Daniel didn't touch the food. He kept his
 
   attention focused on Grace, who was nervously brushing her hands down
 
   her apron. She wouldn't, or couldn't, look him in the eyes. The
 
   teacups rattled in the saucers as she placed them on the table. She
 
   poured a thick, black liquid into each cup that looked more like shoe
 
   polish than tea.
 
 
 
   "Would you like sugar and cream? " she asked.
 
 
 
   Cole was looking suspiciously at his cup, but Daniel was still looking
 
   at Grace.
 
 
 
   "Is this tea? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "Yes, " she rushed out. "Is something wrong with it? " "No, no, I'm
 
   sure it's fine." He took a drink and couldn't hide his reaction. It
 
   tasted like bitter hair tonic.
 
 
 
   "It just needs a little sugar, " he lied.
 
 
 
   "I boiled it too long, didn't I? " she asked. "That's what I did. I
 
   should have timed it. I'll make another pot right away."
 
 
 
   "I'd rather have water, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   Daniel was trying not to smile. He didn't want to embarrass her any
 
   more than she already was, for she had seen the grimace Cole made when
 
   he tasted her tea, and if Daniel laughed, her discomfort would only
 
   intensify.
 
 
 
   "I don't think you're supposed to boil the tea leaves, " he told her.
 
 
 
   With a gesture he found utterly feminine, she brushed her dark curls
 
   back over her shoulder. "Cooking is far more difficult than one would
 
   ever imagine, " she remarked.
 
 
 
   "Who did all the cooking in your home? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   She seemed surprised by the question. "The cook did the cooking, " she
 
   answered. "And her assistants, of course. Sometimes the downstairs
 
   maids helped. At least I believe they did. Would you like some sliced
 
   pickles, Marshal Clayborne? They're quite good."
 
 
 
   "That would be nice, " he answered. "Please call me Cole and call him
 
   Daniel, " he added with a nod toward Ryan.
 
 
 
   "Then you must call me Grace. I insist." She proceeded to slice the
 
   pickle with a sharp butcher knife, pulling the sharp blade toward her
 
   wrist. The action drove Daniel crazy. He reached out and grabbed hold
 
   of both of her hands.
 
 
 
   "Always cut with the blade angled away from you, " he instructed.
 
 
 
   "Like this." He slowly glided the knife through the pickle toward the
 
   plate.
 
 
 
   "It's safer that way." When he didn't let go of her right away, she
 
   stared down at his big hands and simply waited. "Thank you, Daniel.
 
 
 
   I'll try to remember next time." He noticed the number of cuts on her
 
   fingers. "You aren't used to kitchen work, are you? " he asked as he
 
   let go and leaned back in his chair.
 
 
 
   "No, but I'm learning." She once again bent over the pickle with her
 
   knife. Wrinkling her nose and biting her lower lip in concentration,
 
   she cautiously sawed at it until there were half a dozen thin slices
 
   neatly arranged on the plate.
 
 
 
   Then, with a triumphant smile, she washed her hands and set her
 
   achievement before them.
 
 
 
   Ryan couldn't take his eyes off her, so completely fascinated was he by
 
   this delicate woman. Even though she was unskilled and totally out of
 
   place, she was not deterred, nor even discouraged.
 
 
 
   He had to force himself to get on with the business at hand. Pulling
 
   his notepad out of his pocket, he put it on the table and reached for
 
   his pencil. "Why don't we get started, " he began.
 
 
 
   "Yes, of course, " she agreed.
 
 
 
   "About what time were you in the bank on the day of the robbery? " She
 
   stared at the tabletop when she answered. "I was there at two o'clock,
 
   give or take ten minutes." Cole was about to take a bite of his
 
   sandwich when she gave her answer.
 
 
 
   He put the food back on the plate and shot a glance at Daniel to judge
 
   his reaction.
 
 
 
   "You're sure it was two o'clock? " Daniel asked, sounding only mildly
 
   curious.
 
 
 
   "Yes, I'm sure. I noticed the time while I was waiting my turn in
 
   line.
 
 
 
   There's a large clock on the wall behind the tellers' windows."
 
 
 
   "Did you notice any of the other people in line? " Cole asked. She
 
   pondered the question for a long moment, and then shook her head.
 
 
 
   "Actually, no, I didn't notice anyone else. I wasn't paying much
 
   attention." What in God's name was going on? Cole was about to ask
 
   Grace that question when Daniel shook his head at him. He obviously
 
   didn't want Cole to point out the fact that her answer was identical to
 
   Jessica's and Rebecca'sţalmost word for word. Had the three of them
 
   rehearsed what they would say while they were in that cell together,
 
   and if so, why?
 
 
 
   Daniel closed his notepad and put it back in his pocket. "Did you
 
   notice anything unusual? " "No, I didn't, " Grace answered.
 
 
 
   "You took your place in line . . . " "Yes, I did, " she said. "And I
 
   waited my turn, but I didn't look around. I was thinking about all the
 
   things I needed to get done." Daniel's frustration was mounting, but
 
   he was careful not to let it show. "The bag that Sheriff Sloan showed
 
   you, " he began, "it doesn't belong to you, does it? " "No, it
 
   doesn't. I never carry a bag. All of my dresses have pockets."
 
 
 
   "The one you're wearing now doesn't, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   "Excuse me? " She was obviously startled by his observation and was
 
   trying to come up with a suitable explanation. "The dress you're
 
   wearing doesn't have pockets, " Cole repeated.
 
 
 
   "No, it doesn't, " she agreed. "But the one I wore to the bank does
 
   have pockets . . . two of them. Would you like some more tea? " Cole
 
   glanced down at his full cup and wondered where she thought she would
 
   put more. He shook his head, but she didn't seem to notice. She
 
   turned and rushed back to the stove, then carried the teapot back to
 
   the table and placed it next to Cole's cup. A look of acute relief
 
   crossed her face when Jessica walked into the kitchen.
 
 
 
   Surprised to find the marshals still there, Jessica stopped short.
 
 
 
   "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I thought you would be finished
 
   by now, and I was going to help Grace clean the dishes. I'll do them
 
   later." She tried to leave, but Daniel called her back.
 
 
 
   "Come and join us, " he suggested.
 
 
 
   Grace frantically nodded. Jessica's gaze was directed on Cole. He
 
   looked irritated and out of sorts, and she thought it was because she
 
   had interrupted them.
 
 
 
   "No, thank you. I'll just go back upstairs for a little while."
 
 
 
   "We insist you join us." He wasn't going to take no for an answer. He
 
   stood up and pulled out the chair adjacent to him. Daniel also stood
 
   and asked Grace to sit down.
 
 
 
   The two women exchanged a look before complying with the request.
 
 
 
   Cole then took over the questioning. "Grace, you're planning to leave
 
   Rockford Falls tomorrow, aren't you? " "Yes, I am, " she answered.
 
 
 
   She folded her hands on the tabletop and tried to look composed. "How
 
   did you know I was leaving? " "Just a hunch, " he answered dryly.
 
 
 
   "Where are you headed? " "Colorado."
 
 
 
   "Jessica told us she was also headed to Colorado, " Daniel
 
   interjected.
 
 
 
   "Yes, that's right, " Grace said. "We're going to be traveling
 
   together."
 
 
 
   "Did you come to Rockford Falls together? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   Grace smiled. "Good heavens, no. I came from London, England, several
 
   months ago. I stopped in Kentucky, Missouri, and Kansas before I came
 
   here. I was looking for property, " she thought to add.
 
 
 
   "Property? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "I'm hoping to start a ranching business, " she explained. "I'm
 
   looking for good grazing land . . . " "For the cattle she's going to
 
   purchase, " Jessica interjected. "Yes, for the cattle, " Grace
 
   agreed.
 
 
 
   "But then Mr. Wells's family decided not to sell the property, "
 
   Jessica said.
 
 
 
   "Who is Mr. Wells? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "The gentleman I corresponded with from London, " Grace said. "I had
 
   heard through friends who knew him that he wanted to sell his land and
 
   that it was just what I was looking for."
 
 
 
   "But it wasn't? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "Oh, it was, " Grace answered. "Acres and acres of lush green land.
 
 
 
   It was as perfect as my friends had claimed. I had already made an
 
   offer sight unseen from London, but when I arrived in Kentucky to sign
 
   the official papers, I found out that poor Mr. Wells had passed on.
 
 
 
   His son refused to honor his father's promise."
 
 
 
   "Grace saw an advertisement in the Rockford Falls Gazette for available
 
   land near Denver, and we're going there together to look at it."
 
 
 
   "Do you know anything about raising cattle? " Daniel asked.
 
 
 
   "No, but I plan to hire men who do know how, " Grace answered. "And I
 
   will learn how. I know it's going to be hard work, but I'm not afraid
 
   of it." Cole was trying not to let Grace see how appalled he was.
 
 
 
   "Ma'am, running cattle is a backbreaking business." He was diplomatic
 
   in his caution.
 
 
 
   Daniel was blunt. "Are you nuts? You can't run a cattle ranch. "
 
   Grace's spine stiffened. "No, I'm not crazy, and I assure you I will
 
   achieve my goal. I may not have the experience, but I'm determined. "
 
   Daniel was too incredulous to argue. Cole shook his head. "How can
 
   you leave tomorrow? " he asked. "The coach doesn't come through here
 
   until the day after."
 
 
 
   "We aren't taking the coach, " Jessica explained.
 
 
 
   "We're going by wagon, " Grace said. "It's in the field behind the
 
   house. Surely you noticed it on your way here."
 
 
 
   "We should put our suitcases in it tonight, " Jessica said.
 
 
 
   Grace agreed. "And get an early start in the morning. That's a good
 
   idea."
 
 
 
   "Who's driving the team? " Cole wanted to know.
 
 
 
   "We are, " Grace answered. The look on her face indicated she couldn't
 
   imagine why he would ask such a question.
 
 
 
   Cole was staring at Jessica's hands. He reached over and took hold of
 
   one and turned the palm up. "Your hands are soft." It sounded like an
 
   accusation, and she pulled her hand back. "I'll wear gloves."
 
 
 
   "Have you ever driven a team before? " Daniel asked.
 
 
 
   "Not exactly, " she admitted.
 
 
 
   Astonished by their impossible plans, Daniel looked at Cole, hoping he
 
   would be able to talk some sense into them.
 
 
 
   Cole was just as astounded, but he tried to be diplomatic. "The two of
 
   you . . . and the baby are going to set off on your own across some of
 
   the most rugged and dangerous terrain in the country. Have I got that
 
   straight? " Both Grace and Jessica nodded.
 
 
 
   Cole lost his patience. "Are you ladies out of your minds? " Since he
 
   was looking at Jessica, she assumed he expected her to answer his rude
 
   question. "No, we aren't out of our minds. We've thought it all out,
 
   and I assure you we know what we're doing." Grace nodded. "Yes, we
 
   do, " she agreed. She turned to Daniel and added, "We won't be
 
   traveling alone. We're going to join a wagon train."
 
 
 
   "We must be in Gramby by Monday at the latest, " Jessica said.
 
 
 
   Daniel was staring intently at Grace. More than anything she longed to
 
   tell him to stop it. It was rude, and it was also driving her to
 
   distraction. She had the feeling he was trying to see into her mind,
 
   which was absurd, she told herself. He couldn't possibly read her
 
   thoughts.
 
 
 
   "Why are you asking us so many personal questions? " she demanded.
 
 
 
   "We haven't done anything wrong, " Jessica insisted.
 
 
 
   "Are you finished questioning us about the bank? " Grace asked. "We
 
   both have work to do." Daniel's anger was evident in his expression
 
   and voice when he said, "If one of you has information about the
 
   robbery and isn't telling, that's called obstruction. It's a
 
   punishable crime, ladies."
 
 
 
   "Are you trying to intimidate us? " Jessica asked.
 
 
 
   Both marshals ignored the question. Daniel turned to Grace. "I've
 
   only got one more question for you. Did you happen to run into Jessica
 
   when you were at the bank? " She looked at Jessica before she
 
   answered. "Yes, I passed her on my way out of the bank. She was going
 
   inside."
 
 
 
   "What about Rebecca? " Cole asked. "Did you bump into her too? " The
 
   men's anger sizzled in the air between them. It had been simmering,
 
   Grace realized, all the while they were questioning her.
 
 
 
   Something she had said must have set them off. She bowed her head when
 
   she answered.
 
 
 
   "Rebecca was just leaving the bank when I went inside." Jessica also
 
   could feel the hostility and was convinced that she had said something
 
   that triggered the marshals' anger. She was exhausted from the strain
 
   of guarding every word and knew that if she said anything more, she
 
   would only make it worse. She decided to show the marshals out as
 
   quickly as possible. Pushing her chair back, she stood up and headed
 
   for the door.
 
 
 
   Daniel stopped her with his command. "Both of you are going to be
 
   staying in town tomorrow." She whirled around and bumped into Cole.
 
 
 
   She neither apologized nor stepped back.
 
 
 
   "Why must we stay? " she asked.
 
 
 
   "You can't make us stay here, can you? " Grace asked. "I'm not
 
   familiar with the laws in this country, but making someone do something
 
   she doesn't wish to do is wrong . . . isn't it? " "Yes, it is, "
 
   Jessica said. "Cole, you can't . . . " He interrupted her. "Yes, I
 
   can make you stay. We're using the office in the front of the jail.
 
 
 
   You ladies know where it is. Why don't you both plan on being there at
 
   eight o'clock. Rebecca will be joining you." Jessica and Grace seemed
 
   to wilt. They meekly followed the lawmen to the front of the house.
 
 
 
   "This isn't right, " Grace whispered.
 
 
 
   Daniel heard her and turned back in the doorway. "No, it sure as hell
 
   isn't right, but we're going to figure it all out tomorrow, aren't we,
 
   Grace? " Cole turned to address Jessica. "I don't know what kind of a
 
   game you ladies are playing, but it ends now. Do I make myself
 
   clear?
 
 
 
   " He didn't wait for an answer. Jessica was shaking from head to toe
 
   as she shut the door and bolted the lock. She turned around and fell
 
   back against it.
 
 
 
   Tears sprang into Grace's eyes. "Oh, God . . . they know." he
 
   twisted turn of events left Cole and Daniel feeling bewildered and
 
   irritated.
 
 
 
   "All three of them rehearsed what they were going to say to us when
 
   they were in the cell together, " Cole remarked on the way back to the
 
   hotel.
 
 
 
   "Hell, yes, they rehearsed. Now tell me why."
 
 
 
   "They're scared, I guess. That's all I can come up with."
 
 
 
   "They were all real edgy.
 
 
 
   Rebecca did the best job of concealing it from us, but I could see it
 
   in her eyes."
 
 
 
   "And her hands, " Cole said. "She was gripping them.
 
 
 
   " "Yeah, she was, " Daniel remembered. He reached up and rubbed the
 
   back of his neck, trying to work the knots of tension out.
 
 
 
   "I sure was wrong, " Cole said. "I thought it was going to be a waste
 
   of time talking to Jessica and Grace. What the hell kind of a game are
 
   they playing? " "I don't know, " Daniel replied. "I was pretty sure
 
   it was going to be a waste, too. I was just following procedure,
 
   hoping one of them might have noticed something unusual. It sure as
 
   hell got complicated, didn't it? " "Yeah, it did, " Cole agreed. "And
 
   it doesn't make any sense. They've got to know they were seen in the
 
   bank earlier that afternoon. They all stood in line with men who would
 
   remember them. Why did they go to all the trouble of rehearsing what
 
   they were going to say? " "No, it doesn't make any sense. Which one
 
   of them is lying? " "Maybe all three of them are. They're obviously
 
   hell-bent on protecting one another."
 
 
 
   "Or what? " "They're protecting someone else, someone we don't know
 
   about yet."
 
 
 
   "How do we find out the truth? " "They're going to tell us, " Daniel
 
   said.
 
 
 
   "Tomorrow, one way or another, Jessica and Grace and Rebecca are going
 
   to tell us what they know."
 
 
 
   "And if they don't? " "No one's going to get in my way, man or
 
   woman."
 
 
 
   Daniel's voice shook with emotion. "If I have to lock them up, by God,
 
   I will."
 
 
 
   "Don't do anything crazy." Cole saw the irony in his remark and let
 
   out a harsh laugh. "I think this badge is changing me. I'm usually
 
   the one doing crazy things, and now I'm cautioning you. I know how bad
 
   you want those men. Hell, I'd feel the same way, but you've got to
 
   keep it legal." Daniel disagreed. "I'm going to get them any way that
 
   I can. I don't care if it's legal or not. Are you going to help me?
 
 
 
   " "I already told you I'd help." The conversation ended when they
 
   reached the hotel and went up to their rooms. Cole threw open his
 
   window to get rid of the musty smell, then stripped out of his clothes,
 
   washed, and fell into bed. Stacking his hands behind his head, he
 
   thought about the women's answers to their questions. One thought led
 
   to another, and he was suddenly thinking about Jessica. Damn but she
 
   was a tempting woman.
 
 
 
   He fell asleep hoping to God she hadn't been hiding under that desk.
 
 
 
   Daniel didn't go to sleep right away. He spent a good hour pacing
 
   around his shoe box of a room, feeling like a caged animal. He tried
 
   to concentrate on the investigation, but Grace Winthrop kept getting in
 
   his way.
 
 
 
   He'd been stunned by the impact she'd made on him, and honest to God,
 
   he didn't know how to handle it. Until tonight, he hadn't so much as
 
   glanced at another woman, and he sure as certain hadn't physically
 
   wanted any of them. Grace had gotten to him, though, and it seemed so
 
   damned disloyal of him to have such unbridled thoughts about her.
 
 
 
   He couldn't figure out why he was attracted to her. Granted, she was
 
   pretty and her face was about the loveliest he'd seen in a long, long
 
   time. She had a nice shape too. No doubt about it, she was well put
 
   together, but she still wasn't anything like his sweet Kathleen. No
 
   other woman could ever measure up to her. The unspoiled daughter of a
 
   farmer, his wife had simple tastes and a passionate zest for life.
 
 
 
   He'd been drawn to her robust laugh and her generous nature, and he had
 
   immediately and completely fallen head over heels in love with her.
 
 
 
   How he had marveled at the great gift God had given him, and he often
 
   would quietly observe her as she went about her daily chores. Her
 
   strong, sturdy hands worked tirelessly through the day, but at night
 
   they were gentle and soft as they stroked his brow.
 
 
 
   Grace was a dainty, petite woman. The top of her head barely reached
 
   his shoulders. She came from wealth and status and had obviously moved
 
   about in a world that was totally foreign to him. Yet there was a
 
   naivete and gentleness in her that made him want to move close.
 
 
 
   But she wasn't Kathleen. Oh, God, how he missed his wife. He ached to
 
   take her into his arms and make love to her once again. He longed to
 
   listen to her sing a lullaby to their little girl, to hear their
 
   laughter, to touch . . . He forced himself to stop thinking about the
 
   past. His life had ended when his wife and baby were taken from him,
 
   gunned down like animals, but he had to keep going . . . had to keep
 
   pushing and searching until he had gotten every one of the demons
 
   responsible. Only then could he stop.
 
 
 
   With a weary sigh, he got ready for bed and methodically went through
 
   his notes again. He wanted to find something he'd missed before, but
 
   that didn't happen. In frustration, he hurled the notepad across the
 
   room and fell back against the pillows.
 
 
 
   Oh, Kathleen, if one of us had to die, why couldn't it have been me?
 
 
 
   He fell asleep thinking about his wife, but he dreamed about Grace.
 
 
 
   \
 
 
 
   ( vole didn't know what had awakened him. One second he was sound
 
   asleep, roping cattle, and the next he was wide awake and as tense as a
 
   bow. He was a light sleeper even when he was home at Rosehill in his
 
   own bed, and he always heard every little sound. He didn't hear
 
   anything unusual, but he still reached for his gun and went to the
 
   door.
 
 
 
   As he expected, there wasn't anyone lurking in the hallway. He shut
 
   the door and crossed to the window to look down at the street, thinking
 
   that someone who had had too much to drink had made a racket. The
 
   street was deserted.
 
 
 
   A faint breeze brushed his face. He let out a loud yawn and thought
 
   about going back to sleep, but then he saw the faint orange glow in the
 
   distance and realized it was already dawn. The sun was slowly making
 
   its way up into the black sky. Damn, but morning had come quick. He
 
   was still sleepy, and it seemed to him that he had only just closed his
 
   eyes.
 
 
 
   He was getting old, he supposed. He stretched his arms and went to get
 
   a drink of water before he got dressed. Because it was still dark in
 
   the room, he lit the kerosene lamp. His pocket watch was on the
 
   dresser next to his compass, and it wasn't until he happened to glance
 
   at the time that he realized it was still the middle of the night.
 
 
 
   "What the hell? " he muttered.
 
 
 
   He turned toward the streaks of amber light once again . . . and then
 
   he started running.
 
 
 
   He was pulling his shirt on and trying to button his pants as he ran
 
   into the hallway.
 
 
 
   "Wake up, Daniel. We've got trouble." The door opened a second
 
   later.
 
 
 
   Daniel rushed into the hallway brandishing his gun. He was half
 
   dressed and half asleep. "What is it? " "Fire."
 
 
 
   "Where? " Daniel demanded as he turned and ran back into his room to
 
   get dressed.
 
 
 
   "Could be as far away as the mountains, but I don't think so . . . the
 
   light's too close. Could be down the street . . . Ah, God, the
 
   boardinghouse . . . You don't think . . . " Cole shouted as he raced
 
   down the stairs.
 
 
 
   Daniel was right behind him. The night manager was sound asleep in his
 
   chair behind the front desk, with his head and arms resting on the
 
   countertop, when Daniel leapt over the railing and shouted to him to
 
   ring the fire bell. Startled by the abrupt noise, the manager struck
 
   his head on a lamp and overturned his chair when he jumped to his
 
   feet.
 
 
 
   "What . . . What did you say? " he cried out.
 
 
 
   "The fire bell, " Daniel roared as he crossed the lobby and burst
 
   through the door in Cole's wake. "Ring the fire bell." He caught up
 
   with Cole at the corner. Side-by-side the two men ran, the only sounds
 
   the pounding of their boots against the ground and their harsh
 
   breathing as each pushed himself to his limit. They were halfway down
 
   the block when they smelled smoke. Running as though the fire were
 
   licking at their heels, they sprinted around the curve in the road and
 
   saw the flames. The first floor of the house was a blazing inferno.
 
 
 
   Glowing red embers, like demon eyes, spewed out the open windows and
 
   floated up into the night sky. Tattered remnants of lace curtains,
 
   blackened with soot, billowed outward with each burst of dense smoke,
 
   and the freshly painted white wood blistered and boiled from the
 
   intensity of the heat.
 
 
 
   No one was outside.
 
 
 
   Cole and Daniel leapt over the fence at the same time and raced across
 
   the lawn. Daniel headed for the back of the house, hoping he could
 
   find a way inside through the flames, while Cole circled around the
 
   opposite side.
 
 
 
   The front door crashed open, and they saw Jessica slowly backing out.
 
 
 
   she was bent at the waist, dragging Grace to safety.
 
 
 
   Her friend wasn't moving. Daniel reached the porch before Cole did and
 
   lifted the unconscious woman into his arms. In the firelight, he could
 
   see the blood trickling down her left temple. Something had struck her
 
   hard, and considering the amount of swelling, he thought she was damned
 
   lucky to be alive. He held her close against his chest and ran down
 
   the steps and out into the yard, where he gently laid her in the
 
   grass.
 
 
 
   Jessica followed him down the steps, then stopped. Screaming Caleb's
 
   name, she was turning in a circle, frantically searching for the baby
 
   and for Tilly, when Cole dove from the porch railing and tackled her to
 
   the ground.
 
 
 
   He landed hard and knocked the breath out of her. She was thrown
 
   backward in the grass. She couldn't catch her breath and didn't
 
   understand what was happening, or why. All she could think about was
 
   Caleb and getting to him in time. Where was he?
 
 
 
   Jessica tried to roll to her side so she could get up and search for
 
   her baby, but Cole was suddenly pinning her down. Then he started
 
   pounding at her legs with the palms of his hands, shouting to Daniel to
 
   help him. She cried out and renewed her struggles to push him off
 
   her.
 
 
 
   Flames were greedily eating the hem of her robe. Cole was trying to
 
   put the fire out and get the robe off her before she was burned. By
 
   the time he had rolled her onto her stomach, Daniel was at his side,
 
   helping. The two men were tearing at her clothes. Screaming Caleb's
 
   name over and over again she struggled to get up, but they wouldn't let
 
   her move until Cole had ripped her robe off her shoulders and Daniel
 
   had pulled it free.
 
 
 
   Cole lifted her up. She grabbed hold of his shirt and screamed, "I
 
   can't find Caleb. You have to help me find him. He's with Tilly. .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   She was taking him outside while I searched for Grace. They were
 
   beside me upstairs. Where are they? I have to find them." She jerked
 
   away from him and tried to run back to the house, but Cole grabbed her
 
   from behind. She fought like a wildcat to get free, clawing at his
 
   arms and kicking at his legs.
 
 
 
   "I'll find him, " he promised. "Do you hear me, Jessie? I'll find
 
   him.
 
 
 
   You stay with Grace. Can you do that? " His calm voice cut through
 
   her hysteria. "Yes, yes, I'll stay with Grace. Please hurry."
 
 
 
   "The old lady and the baby are still inside, " Cole shouted to
 
   Daniel.
 
 
 
   He jerked Jessica around to face him. "Where are their rooms? " She
 
   pointed to the center window above the porch. "Tilly's room is in the
 
   middle. Caleb and I are next to her . . . on the left side . . . by
 
   the tree." Daniel was already on the roof. He'd swung himself up from
 
   the overhang above the porch. He used the heel of his boot to break
 
   the glass in the center window and jumped back to avoid the flames and
 
   smoke that billowed out. Then he dove, headfirst, inside.
 
 
 
   The roof above the porch collapsed a second later. Cole had run to the
 
   other side of the house to try to get in through one of the windows on
 
   the first floor, but he couldn't get close enough, for the heat pouring
 
   out was too intense. His eyes burned and watered as he backtracked to
 
   the gnarled tree closest to the house. Thick branches hung down over
 
   the eaves and he hoped he could get close enough to jump onto the
 
   roof.
 
 
 
   He began to climb. Seconds later he swung out, hand over hand, and
 
   then dropped down to the roof. Daniel appeared at the window with
 
   Tilly wrapped in a blanket and draped over his shoulder. Before Cole
 
   could help him, Daniel jumped through the opening and sprinted toward
 
   the opposite side of the roof. The branches on that side of the house
 
   were lower and easy to grasp hold of.
 
 
 
   "Caleb wasn't with Tilly. Get out of here, " Daniel shouted. "The
 
   roof's going to go." Ignoring the warning, Cole headed for the window
 
   Jessica had pointed out. Tongues of fire were hissing and spitting at
 
   him from the opening, but fear lent him strength. He was so damned
 
   scared he wouldn't find the baby alive, he recklessly followed Daniel's
 
   example and plunged headfirst inside.
 
 
 
   He was surprised to find the floor was still there. He landed with a
 
   thud on his left shoulder, rolled, and stood up. A thick wall of black
 
   smoke knocked him backward to his knees. Ashes poured over his face
 
   and matted his eyelashes. His eyes burned so badly he couldn't see
 
   where he was, he couldn't breathe, and the heat inside the bedroom made
 
   his skin feel as though it were melting. He dropped down to the floor
 
   and took a deep breath of cool air. Then he began to crawl forward on
 
   his belly.
 
 
 
   There was almost a foot of clean air trapped between the floorboards
 
   and the dense, deadly smoke. Taking another deep breath, he shouted
 
   Caleb's name.
 
 
 
   The sound of his voice was lost in the crackling inferno. He slowly
 
   inched forward. He couldn't see anything, but he hoped he would bump
 
   into a clothes closet. Every bedroom had one, and he knew that
 
   whenever his little sister had become afraid, she'd hidden there. He
 
   hoped to God, Caleb had done the same thing.
 
 
 
   The bed was his second choice, but he found it first. He hit the side
 
   of the headboard, squeezed himself along the length, and reached
 
   underneath, sweeping his arm back and forth in a wide arc.
 
 
 
   There wasn't anything there.
 
 
 
   Every second that passed was another second closer to the babyws
 
   death.
 
 
 
   Cole was silently praying and begging for God's help as he made one
 
   final sweep under the bed. He was just pulling back when Caleb grabbed
 
   hold of his hand. The baby let go just as quickly. Cole rolled his
 
   shoulder under the frame, lifted up, and reached for him. Caleb had
 
   squeezed himself up against the headboard. Cole found a leg and gently
 
   pulled.
 
 
 
   He could hear him whimpering and making loud, sucking sounds with his
 
   thumb in his mouth, and Cole thought those were the most beautiful
 
   noises he'd ever heard, for it meant that Caleb was unharmed.
 
 
 
   He lifted the baby into his arms and rolled to his knees. Caleb threw
 
   himself backward and grabbed his baby doll off the floor. A forked
 
   flame of fire leapt up from between the floorboards as Cole pulled
 
   Caleb back.
 
 
 
   "Let's get out of here, " he whispered to the baby, his voice hoarse
 
   and raw from smoke.
 
 
 
   He wanted to wrap Caleb in a blanket from the bed, but when he reached
 
   for it, he saw the embers raining down from the ceiling on top of it.
 
 
 
   The blanket ignited and rapidly burned. In desperation, Cole tucked
 
   Caleb's head under his chin, wrapped his arms around him, and doubled
 
   over, his hope that his own body would shield the baby's.
 
 
 
   He figured he had only a couple of seconds left to get out. The
 
   bedroom was closing in on him. Flames where shooting up from the
 
   cracks in the floor and dropping down from the ceiling above.
 
 
 
   And then the walls began to move as though they had suddenly come
 
   alive. They bulged forward, hovered, then, with an eerie swooshing
 
   sound, they slowly receded before throbbing forward once again. It was
 
   the spookiest damned thing he had ever seen. He could hear the heart
 
   of the fire beating behind those walls. It pulsated and throbbed as it
 
   sucked every breath of air it could find.
 
 
 
   Cole knelt near the floor, took a deep breath, rose to his feet, and
 
   raced for the window. The monster chased him. He heard a snapping
 
   sound behind him, felt the floor shift under his feet, and leapt
 
   through the opening as the floor collapsed. The room's walls exploded
 
   a heartbeat later. Shards of glass and fragments of burning embers
 
   blew out the window. The force of the explosion slammed Cole forward,
 
   but he turned in midair so he would land on his back and not crush the
 
   baby in his arms. The heat pouring out from the hot roof burned his
 
   skin, and he knew he had only seconds left before the whole house
 
   collapsed. Staggering to his feet, he turned in one direction and then
 
   the other, looking for a way down.
 
 
 
   Flames, like serpent heads, were creeping toward him from below and
 
   closing in on him from the eaves above. Fire cut off the route Daniel
 
   had taken with Tilly, and Cole knew he wouldn't be able to go down the
 
   way he had come up on the opposite side, for the tree branches were too
 
   high for him to reach with a baby in his arms.
 
 
 
   He was trapped.
 
 
 
   He could hear the faint clanging of a fire bell in the distance. Then
 
   he heard a shrill whistle. He turned toward the sound just as Daniel
 
   whistled again. Squinting against the black smoke, Cole spotted him
 
   straddling the heavy branch.
 
 
 
   It was too damned far away. Impossible to reach.
 
 
 
   There wasn't any other alternative. "Hang on, Caleb, " he whispered.
 
 
 
   Taking a deep breath, he let out a roar and leapt over the ring of fire
 
   directly in front of him. He could feel the wood cracking under his
 
   feet and hear the beams crashing behind him, but on he ran until he
 
   felt as though his lungs were going to explode.
 
 
 
   Daniel watched Cole coming toward him. When Cole was halfway across
 
   the roof, Daniel flattened himself on one branch and braced his legs in
 
   a wedge of a lower branch. He wrapped his left arm around the limb
 
   holding him, then reached down as far as he could extend and put out
 
   his right hand.
 
 
 
   It was a leap of faith. The distance from the edge of the roof to
 
   Daniel's hand was considerable. Cole felt as though he were flying,
 
   and for a brief second, he did exactly that. He vaulted out into the
 
   night, reaching for Daniel.
 
 
 
   Their hands connected. And held.
 
 
 
   Cole closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief.
 
 
 
   Daniel grunted from the weight but held tight. When Colehad stopped
 
   swaying and Daniel was sure he wasn't going to drop him, he reached
 
   down with his other hand to get Caleb, and let go of Cole who dropped
 
   down to a lower branch. The baby was screaming as Daniel gently pulled
 
   him up in his arms. A few seconds later, they were all on the ground
 
   and running for safety.
 
 
 
   Jessica ran to Daniel to take Caleb from him, but Cole intercepted
 
   her.
 
 
 
   Looping his arm around her waist, he lifted her up and carried her with
 
   him as he continued to run.
 
 
 
   Just as they reached Grace and Tilly, the walls of the house and the
 
   roof caved in. The horde of townspeople who were running to and fro
 
   with buckets of water suddenly stopped to watch the dazzling display of
 
   fireworks. Sparks shot up as high as fifty feet and spiraled downward
 
   in a popping, cracking arc that was so impressive some of the townsmen
 
   actually oohed and aahed.
 
 
 
   It was a night none of them would ever forget.
 
 
 
   The reporter was rushing around trying to find someone he could
 
   interview, while John Cletchem, the photographer, set up his equipment
 
   so that he could capture the destruction before the flames stopped
 
   feeding.
 
 
 
   Tilly was sitting on the grass, quietly weeping. Grace was still
 
   unconscious, but Tilly had lifted her up so that her head rested in the
 
   older woman's lap. She was gently stroking Grace's forehead while she
 
   cried. Daniel knelt down beside the two women. He awkwardly patted
 
   Tilly's back in an attempt to comfort her, but his attention was
 
   centered on Grace. He was watching her breathe and thanking God every
 
   time she drew a breath.
 
 
 
   She looked so young and innocent and vulnerable. Daniel shouted for
 
   someone to go and get the doctor. The sound of his voice jarred Grace,
 
   and she flinched in reaction. He'd almost had himself convinced that
 
   his heart was safe, then she opened her eyes and looked at him. His
 
   heart started pounding, and his own eyes stung with tears of relief.
 
 
 
   What in God's name was the matter with him? He couldn't stop himself
 
   from reaching for her. He gently took her into his arms and stood
 
   up.
 
 
 
   "Daniel? Your face is covered with dirt."
 
 
 
   "Yeah, I know. How are you feeling? " "My head hurts, " she said.
 
 
 
   "I'm not sure why, " she added, a puzzled look on her face. She
 
   reached up and trailed her fingers down the side of his cheek. "How
 
   did you get so dirty? " He turned around so she could see what was
 
   left of the house. She wasn't looking anywhere but at him however, and
 
   so he explained. "There was a fire." She turned her head, grimacing
 
   from the pain the movement caused. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and
 
   she was suddenly clearheaded again.
 
 
 
   "Where's Jessica and Caleb and Tilly? " "They're fine, " he assured
 
   her. "Every one got out of the house in time.
 
 
 
   No one was hurt . . . except you. Do you remember what happened? "
 
   She put her head down on his shoulder. "No, I don't remember. Please
 
   put me down. I need to . . . " "You need to see a doctor." He looked
 
   over the crowd and was about to shout for the physician once again when
 
   the man suddenly appeared at the head of the townspeople watching the
 
   fire. Rebecca was dragging him toward Tilly and Grace.
 
 
 
   "Daniel? " Grace whispered, drawing his attention once again. "How
 
   did I get out of the house? r "Jessica pulled you out. If she hadn't
 
   . . . Cole and I would never have found you in time."
 
 
 
   "She saved my life."
 
 
 
   "Yes." As Grace began to cry, Daniel tightened his hold and tried to
 
   comfort her.
 
 
 
   Jessica was also crying. She had Caleb cuddled in her arms and was so
 
   relieved and thankful her baby was unharmed she kept kissing him and
 
   hugging him. Fully recovered from his adventure, Caleb squirmed and
 
   wanted to get down and play.
 
 
 
   Rebecca found the two of them in the crowd. My God, Jessica, you could
 
   have been killed, " she cried out as she lifted the baby. "Are you all
 
   right? " Jessica forced herself to stop crying long enough to answer
 
   her friend.
 
 
 
   "Yes, I'm fine, but Grace is hurt. A beam must have fallen on her
 
   head, " she explained.
 
 
 
   "The doctor's looking at her now, " Rebecca said. "She doesn't
 
   remember anything? " "I don't know, " Jessica answered. "Will you
 
   watch Caleb? Don't let him out of your sight. I have to find
 
   someone.
 
 
 
   " "Jessica, we need to cover you first. Where's your robe? " "It
 
   caught on fire, " Jessica said as she turned to search the crowd for
 
   Cole.
 
 
 
   "I'll find something for you to put on, " Rebecca promised.
 
 
 
   Jessica didn't hear her. She had finally spotted Cole and hurried
 
   toward him. He stood well away from the crowd and was watching the
 
   house being devoured by the fire. He looked exhausted and was covered
 
   from head to toe in soot.
 
 
 
   She thought he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. "Cole? "
 
   She stopped and simply stared at him. Suddenly he seemed bigger than
 
   life to her. The fire blazing in the background enhanced the fantasy,
 
   for Cole was silhouetted in a hazy, burnished gold glow. It was as
 
   though God had blessed him because of the courage he had shown in the
 
   face of such danger.
 
 
 
   "Did you want something? " he asked, puzzled by the look of joy and
 
   wonder on her face.
 
 
 
   She hurried toward him once again with the intention of thanking him
 
   for saving Caleb's life, but when she finally reached him, a simple
 
   thank-you didn't seem sufficient. She threw herself into his arms.
 
 
 
   He buckled under the impact and instinctively put his arms around
 
   her.
 
 
 
   Leaning up on tiptoe, she embraced his neck, whispered, "Thank you, "
 
   and kissed him passionately.
 
 
 
   It wasn't a chaste kiss by any means, and Cole wasn't about to let the
 
   opportunity slip past without taking full advantage.
 
 
 
   He would have kept right on kissing her if he hadn't felt her tremble
 
   in his arms. He pulled back then and tried to move away, but she
 
   tightened her grip, and that was all the provocation he needed. He
 
   kissed her once again and held her close.
 
 
 
   Her head dropped down to the crook of his neck, and she began to sob.
 
 
 
   All the pent-up emotion inside of her seemed to erupt then. His chin
 
   rested on top of her head as she whispered her thank-you again and
 
   again.
 
 
 
   He gently kissed her forehead. "You're welcome." The moment would
 
   never be forgotten, for the photographer captured the couple embracing
 
   so passionatelyţhe, covered in soot, and she, wearing only a thin
 
   nightgown.
 
 
 
   The photograph was on the front page of the Rockford Falls Gazette the
 
   following morning. /ebecca was sickened by the sight of Grace. The
 
   left side of her temple was severely swollen from the blow to her
 
   head.
 
 
 
   It was a miracle her friend had survived.
 
 
 
   Daniel had placed her on a blanket one of the neighbors provided and
 
   knelt by her side while the doctor examined her. Rebecca wasn't
 
   usually timid, but the seriousness of the injury took her breath
 
   away.
 
 
 
   Daniel thought she was going to faint and told her to sit down, but she
 
   was determined to speak to Grace first.
 
 
 
   "How are you feeling, Grace? " she whispered, her voice shivering with
 
   fear.
 
 
 
   Grace stared up at the woman towering over her. She couldn't help but
 
   notice there wasn't a hair out of place. Rebecca hadn't come running
 
   to see the fire as everyone else had, dressed in robes and slippers.
 
 
 
   No, she was fully attired. The unadorned black dress fit the occasion,
 
   but her face was stark white in comparison.
 
 
 
   "I'm feeling much better now, " Grace answered. "I'll be all right,
 
   Rebecca. You mustn't worry about me." Rebecca lifted the hem of her
 
   gown and knelt down next to Dr. Lawrence.
 
 
 
   The physician patted Grace's hand. "You're going to be all right, " he
 
   promised. "You're very lucky. I'm still not clear about how you got
 
   hit, but I'm guessing the ceiling caved in on you." The doctor
 
   awkwardly got to his feet. He addressed his next remark to Daniel.
 
 
 
   "She should have been killed, Marshal." Rebecca leaned over Grace.
 
 
 
   "Do you remember what happened? " "No, I can't seem to remember
 
   anything at all." Rebecca nodded sympathetically. "It's just as well
 
   you don't remember.
 
 
 
   You would have horrible nightmares otherwise. Poor Jessica was right
 
   in the thick of the fire, but blessedly you slept through it." Grace
 
   became teary-eyed again. "She saved my life. If it weren't for her, I
 
   would have died." Rebecca grasped Grace's hand. "Please don't cry, "
 
   she whispered. "It's over now and everyone's safe."
 
 
 
   "Where is Jessica? " Grace asked.
 
 
 
   "She went to the wagon with Marshal Clayborne to fetch some clean
 
   clothes, " Dr. Lawrence said. "I should probably have a look at
 
   her.
 
 
 
   " Grace struggled to sit up. Daniel put his arm behind her back and
 
   helped her. Her head was still throbbing so much she could barely
 
   concentrate. "Thank heavens we packed our clothes tonight. Everything
 
   we own is in the wagon except what we were going to wear tomorrow. The
 
   wagon didn't catch fire, did it? " "No, no, it didn't, " Rebecca
 
   assured her.
 
 
 
   The fire was still raging, but the street beyond was dark. Someone in
 
   the crowd lit a torch. Caleb was sitting on Tilly's lap when the
 
   stranger started toward the yard with the fiery light. Terrified,
 
   Caleb began to scream for his mama. Rebecca immediately ran to him and
 
   lifted him into her arms, holding him tight as she tried to soothe
 
   him.
 
 
 
   Daniel collared the man with the torch and told him to move back.
 
 
 
   Grace tried to stand. She held on to the doctor's arm so she wouldn't
 
   fall, but, Lord, she was so dizzy the world was spinning around her.
 
 
 
   "What do you think you're doing? " Daniel muttered. "Sit down before
 
   you pass out again."
 
 
 
   "You're as white as a sheet, " the doctor told her. "Do as the marshal
 
   says and sit back down. You need to rest."
 
 
 
   "I want to find Jessica.
 
 
 
   I must talk to her."
 
 
 
   "I'll find her, " Daniel promised.
 
 
 
   He headed for the field behind the house and saw Jessica coming toward
 
   him. She obviously had heard her son crying, for she'd dropped the
 
   clean clothes she'd only just gathered from the wagon and was running
 
   toward him. Cole was following behind. He noticed the ground was
 
   littered with trash and shouted to Jessica to watch where she was
 
   walking, as there were pieces of glass in the grass that could easily
 
   cut through her soft slippers.
 
 
 
   Daniel shouted to Cole and then stopped near the edge of the lot. He
 
   stared down at two empty milk bottles. It had rained hard the past
 
   week, yet the bottles were clean. Curious, he picked one up. The
 
   smell of kerosene was still strong, and when he looked, he could see
 
   the residue in the bottom of the glass.
 
 
 
   He showed both to Cole. He took a whiff of one and nodded. "When we
 
   first got here, I noticed there didn't seem to be a starting point.
 
 
 
   The back of the house was burning as fiercely as the front. It was
 
   like the whole house was primed."
 
 
 
   "Whoever did it must have circled the house with the kerosene."
 
 
 
   "You thinking the Blackwater gang's responsible? They might have seen
 
   the article in the paper, and a fire in the dead of night would be a
 
   sure way to get rid of a couple of possible witnesses. Rebecca's lucky
 
   she didn't move in here."
 
 
 
   "She could be next on their list, " Daniel said, his voice grim.
 
 
 
   "We're going to have to keep close to all three of them, and as soon as
 
   they have had some sleep, they're going to tell us the truth."
 
 
 
   "Are you going to tell them the fire was set? " Daniel took the bottle
 
   from Cole and put both of them on the ground next to a tree. "Not yet,
 
   " he said. "I don't want to scare them any more than they already
 
   are.
 
 
 
   " Cole looked at the house. "What a hell of a night, " he muttered.
 
 
 
   "Let's get everyone settled, " Daniel said. "There's too many people
 
   here. I don't like crowds." The marshals could hear Rebecca issuing
 
   orders as they headed back to the front lawn. She had stepped forward
 
   and had taken charge with a vengeance. She sounded like a military
 
   commander who wasn't going to take no for an answer, and the crowd she
 
   was ordering about responded like new recruits. They did whatever she
 
   told them to do.
 
 
 
   Jessica and Grace didn't know what they would have done if it hadn't
 
   been for their friend organizing the townspeople. Neighbors were sent
 
   home to fetch blankets for the women and the baby, Dr. Lawrence was
 
   encouraged to open his home for Tilly until she could make other
 
   arrangements, men were told to bring the wagon to the hotel, and a
 
   brigade was established to haul water and put out the fire before it
 
   spread to the field beyond.
 
 
 
   No one was allowed to stand idle. There was work to be done, and
 
   Rebecca was determined to see that it was completed as quickly as
 
   possible.
 
 
 
   Less than thirty minutes later, the bone-weary group headed to the
 
   hotel. Although Grace protested vehemently, Daniel insisted on
 
   carrying her. Cole carried Caleb, who was fast asleep before they
 
   reached the street. Rebecca came up with the suggestion that Jessica
 
   and Caleb take one of the marshal's rooms for the night and Grace take
 
   the other one.
 
 
 
   Since the hotel was full, the lawmen could sleep outside.
 
 
 
   Cole and Daniel had other intentions. They weren't about to let the
 
   women out of their sight. Daniel was going to stand guard in the
 
   lobby, and Cole would stay upstairs to watch the hallways, but their
 
   plans changed when they ran into Sheriff Sloan as he was tiptoeing out
 
   of the hotel.
 
 
 
   Daniel told him what had happened and ordered him to sit outside
 
   Rebecca's door. Sloan readily agreed, for he was extremely embarrassed
 
   that he hadn't even known about the fire. He had been otherwise
 
   occupied, and from the smug, sated look on his face, Cole and Daniel
 
   knew exactly what he'd been doing.
 
 
 
   The night manager was appalled at the sight of the sootcovered men and
 
   women, but he was also extremely solicitous. He immediately awakened
 
   two maids to help prepare the rooms. Every one took baths. Caleb not
 
   only awakened during his bath, but was also full of energy. The nap on
 
   the way to the hotel had obviously rejuvenated him.
 
 
 
   Jessica and Grace were dead on their feet and fell asleep as soon as
 
   they got into their beds. Daniel propped his chair against Grace's
 
   door and was asleep seconds later with his hand resting on the hilt of
 
   his gun.
 
 
 
   Cole was across the hall. He too had stretched out in his chair and
 
   had his back up against the door to Jessica's room. He could hear
 
   Caleb chattering away in nonsensical gibberish. After several minutes,
 
   the door opened and the baby came running out.
 
 
 
   Cole carried him back to his mother, but stopped short just inside the
 
   door when he saw Jessica. She was sleeping on her stomach with her
 
   arms splayed wide. Apparently she had been too exhausted to pull the
 
   covers up, and her pink nightgown had worked its way around her
 
   knees.
 
 
 
   Lord, but she had a shapely backside and legs. Cole noticed she had
 
   nice feet too, and he wondered if she was ticklish.
 
 
 
   Her face was turned toward the moonlight streaming in through the open
 
   window. He stared at her mouth, remembering how soft her lips had been
 
   when she'd kissed him. He could still feel her pressed against him,
 
   and all he wanted to do now was get into that bed with her and . . .
 
 
 
   He blocked the thoughts racing through his mind. The poorwoman had
 
   been through hell tonight, and he didn't have any business conjuring up
 
   such lustful notions. Besides, he was a U. S. marshal and the job
 
   carried responsibilities with it. He couldn't act on his impulses, no
 
   matter how irresistible they were.
 
 
 
   Caleb began to fidget in his arms then, pulling Cole back from his
 
   fantasies. The baby was wet. Cole quickly found his nappies and lay
 
   him on the side of the bed close to Jessica.
 
 
 
   "No, " Caleb chanted over and over. He swung his leg up, kicking Cole
 
   in the arm, and tried to flip over so that he could slide down on the
 
   floor.
 
 
 
   "Oh, no you don't, " Cole whispered. "You're going to get changed, and
 
   then you're going to sleep." He tied the straps securing the nappy,
 
   picked up Caleb, then grabbed his baby doll and shoved it into his
 
   arms. The baby was grinning and chattering away as Cole carried him
 
   over to the narrow cot the manager had sent up, tucked him in, and
 
   quietly left the room.
 
 
 
   Caleb was right behind him. Jessica heard Cole mumble something under
 
   his breath and covered her mouth with her hands so he wouldn't hear her
 
   laugh. She had been horrified to find him in her room, but then she'd
 
   heard him whispering to her son and realized his intentions were quite
 
   honorable. Cole was a good man, and she and her son were perfectly
 
   safe with him.
 
 
 
   She fell asleep with good intentions of rescuing Cole.
 
 
 
   Caleb ended up sleeping on Cole's lap for a couple of hours, woke up
 
   chattering, and then fell asleep on Daniel's shoulder. Needless to
 
   say, the marshals didn't get much rest.
 
 
 
   Xaniel was summoned to the telegraph office at seven the following
 
   morning.
 
 
 
   Cole met Sloan in the lobby and ordered him to hire two deputies to
 
   help guard the women. He waited at the hotel until the sheriff
 
   strolled in a few minutes later with Robert York and John Carver. The
 
   two men were heavily armed and looked dangerous. They convinced Cole
 
   they knew what they were doing, and he quickly filled them in on what
 
   was expected of them. Jessica and Rebecca were to stay in their rooms
 
   until the marshals returned to meet with them. Grace had been ordered
 
   to stay in bed until the doctor looked in on her that afternoon.
 
 
 
   "Don't let anyone but Dr. Lawrence go upstairs, " he ordered. "York,
 
   you stand outside Jessica's door. Carver, you take Rebecca's, and
 
   Sloan, you watch Grace's."
 
 
 
   "But I haven't had my morning coffee yet.
 
 
 
   Couldn't I go into the dining room and get something to eat? " Sloan
 
   moaned.
 
 
 
   "No, " Cole answered. "You're going to stay outside Grace's door. t}
 
   Lack of sleep made Cole more surly than usual, and Sloan was smart
 
   enough not to provoke him.
 
 
 
   Cole took the key to the jail from the sheriff and headed across
 
   town.
 
 
 
   The office was stuffy, and so he left the door open to get some fresh
 
   air. Everything smelled like smoke to him, which was probably why he
 
   didn't have an appetite.
 
 
 
   It was almost eight when Daniel arrived. He carried a pot of coffee in
 
   one hand and a wad of telegrams in the other.
 
 
 
   He didn't waste any time telling Cole what he had learned. "One of the
 
   Blackwater gang was captured."
 
 
 
   "Where did they get him? " "He was hiding in one of the caverns just
 
   inside the Texas border.
 
 
 
   They've taken him over to Blackwater." Cole went to get a clean cup
 
   from the shelf across the room. He poured himself some coffee, took a
 
   drink, and then asked, "Is he alive? " "Barely, " Daniel answered.
 
 
 
   "The sheriff in Maple Hills put a couple of bullets in him. It was a
 
   piece of luck that the sheriff stumbled on him.
 
 
 
   The man was sick as a dog with influenza, but he still put up a
 
   fight.
 
 
 
   I hope to God he lives long enough to stand trial. Damn, I wish I were
 
   there now. I can't wait to talk to him."
 
 
 
   You can't believe he'll tell you anything."
 
 
 
   "Oh, yes, I do believe that. He's going to tell me everything I want
 
   to know."
 
 
 
   "Is talking all you plan to do, or did you have something else in
 
   mind?
 
 
 
   " he asked quietly.
 
 
 
   "That depends on how the trial goes. He isn't going to walk away, "
 
   Daniel said. He shook his head and added, "Judge Rafferty won't let
 
   that happen. If the man's one of the Blackwater boys, he'll hang. "
 
   "You sound like you know this judge personally."
 
 
 
   "I do, " Daniel answered. "Every one in Texas knows him, or at least
 
   has heard of him.
 
 
 
   Rafferty has quite a reputation for being hard-nosed.
 
 
 
   Folks think he makes Hangin' Judge Cyrus Burns look like a saint. You
 
   don't cross Rafferty and keep on breathing. He's also got a real
 
   personal stake in all of this, " he added. "Rafferty lost a good
 
   friend in a robbery up in Kansas. The two of them went way back, and
 
   he took the man's death hard. He wants revenge."
 
 
 
   "Then he's personally involved. A fancy lawyer could argue for a new
 
   judge."
 
 
 
   "Maybe, but he'd lose, " Daniel said. "Rafferty's the law in west
 
   Texas.
 
 
 
   Fortunately, he's also an honest man. Hell, if he weren't, he would
 
   have handed the man over to a lynching mob by now."
 
 
 
   "You think they've had trouble? " "Yes, I do." Cole thought about
 
   that for a moment, and then asked, "What's in the other telegrams? "
 
   "They're all from Rafferty. He must have been standing inside the
 
   telegraph office and was in a talkative mood. He wanted to know if we
 
   had any leads, and I wired him back that there was a remote possibility
 
   of a witness.
 
 
 
   He jumped right on that. I told him there might have been a woman
 
   hiding in the bank, that we think it's one of three, but none of them
 
   will admit it . . . " "What did he say about that? " "He wants us to
 
   bring all three of them to Blackwater. He says he can get the truth
 
   out of them."
 
 
 
   "Does he have the authority to make us bring them? " Daniel leaned
 
   back against the wall. "Yes and no, " he answered.
 
 
 
   "We're on special assignment, so we don't have to follow his
 
   instructions."
 
 
 
   "But? " "Rafferty's got some powerful friends in Washington. He might
 
   be able to exert enough pressure to force us to do what he wants. I
 
   don't want to get him riled up, so I'm letting him think we'll
 
   cooperate. I promised him that we would know for certain today if we
 
   had a witness or not."
 
 
 
   "And will we know today? " "Hell, yes, we'll know."
 
 
 
   "Grace might not be up to talking today. We might have to wait."
 
 
 
   "We'll talk to her this afternoon, then. By the end of the day, we'll
 
   know whether or not we have a witness." Cole muttered an expletive.
 
 
 
   He'd just spotted Rebecca on the boardwalk across the street. She was
 
   wearing a pink dress and carrying a pink-and-white-striped parasol.
 
 
 
   She was so lovely, she was literally stopping traffic as men paused to
 
   gawk at her. Her guard, Carver, trailed close behind, glancing in all
 
   directions.
 
 
 
   "Here comes Rebecca, " Cole said. "Ah, hell, she just stopped to talk
 
   to the reporter." Ryan looked outside. "He was hanging around the
 
   telegraph office while I was inside, and when I came out, he went
 
   running in. He probably knows everything now, and from the look on
 
   Rebecca's face, I'm guessing he just told her they caught one of the
 
   gang."
 
 
 
   "How do they know? " Daniel turned back to Cole. "Know what?
 
 
 
   " "That the man they caught is one of the gang."
 
 
 
   "He was carrying a large sum of money."
 
 
 
   "So? Lots of people carry large sums of money when they travel."
 
 
 
   "That's true, " Daniel conceded. "But they also found a copy of the
 
   Rockford Falls Gazette in his saddlebags. The date's the same as the
 
   day of the robbery."
 
 
 
   "It's still circumstantial evidence, isn't it? " "Did I mention he
 
   tried to kill the sheriff before he was captured? " Cole shook his
 
   head. "No, you didn't mention that. He won't be walking away free and
 
   clear, then.
 
 
 
   They'll hold him for attempted murder."
 
 
 
   "But I want to get him for the robberies. If he's one of the gang,
 
   then he's going to talk to me and tell me everything. I want all the
 
   other names."
 
 
 
   "How do you think you're going to convince him to talk? " "I'll figure
 
   out something, " Daniel replied. "It would make it easier if there was
 
   a witness to point him out . . . " "I wouldn't get my hopes up,
 
   Daniel.
 
 
 
   Those women could have told the same story for an altogether different
 
   reason. You think two of them are hell-bent to protect the third
 
   woman. I'm not sure. It occurs to me that we don't know anything
 
   relevant about these women, and I think it's time we looked into their
 
   backgrounds."
 
 
 
   "I'm not taking anything they tell us as true until I've checked it
 
   out."
 
 
 
   "Good, " Cole replied. He glanced out the window again, just in time
 
   to see Rebecca strike the reporter's arm with her parasol. Even from
 
   the distance separating them, he could see how pale and upset she
 
   was.
 
 
 
   Not paying any attention to what she was doing, she picked up her
 
   skirts and rushed into the street, almost running headfirst into a
 
   horse and buggy.
 
 
 
   Carver pulled her back in the nick of time.
 
 
 
   A minute later, she came running into the office, ordering her guard to
 
   remain outside to watch the door. Cole and Daniel waited for her to
 
   regain her breath.
 
 
 
   Daniel offered her a chair, but she declined the invitation to sit and
 
   began to pace around the office. It was very apparent that she was
 
   highly agitated.
 
 
 
   "Why have you assigned a guard to follow me? " she asked.
 
 
 
   "For protection, " Cole answered.
 
 
 
   "But why do you think I need to be protected? " "After the mob here
 
   last night, we thought it was best to hire guards for all three of you
 
   just to make sure no one tries to bother you."
 
 
 
   "Does the guard upset you? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "No, " she answered. "I am upset, but not because of Mr. Carver.
 
 
 
   He's only doing his job."
 
 
 
   "Then what's bothering you? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "I've just heard the most startling news from that despicable reporter
 
   this morning. He told me that one of the Blackwater gang has been
 
   captured. Was the reporter lying or was he telling the truth? "
 
   Because she was looking at Daniel, he stepped forward to answer. "Yes,
 
   it's true. One of them was caught."
 
 
 
   "Is he dead or alive? " she cried out. "Alive, " Daniel answered.
 
 
 
   "But just barely."
 
 
 
   "I hope he dies, " she whispered, and then bowed her head. "No, I
 
   shouldn't say that. It's just that there's been so much killing, and
 
   if he's responsible, he should pay for his crimes. Do they know the
 
   man's name? " "I don't know if the authorities know his name or not, "
 
   Daniel said. "I didn't ask."
 
 
 
   "Are they bringing him back to Rockford Falls to stand trial? " "No,
 
   they've taken him to Blackwater, Texas.
 
 
 
   " "Is that a long way from here? " "Yes, " Cole answered.
 
 
 
   She looked relieved.
 
 
 
   "Good, " she whispered. "I won't have to worry about him getting loose
 
   and coming after Jessica and Grace and me." She collapsed into a chair
 
   and began to fan herself with her handkerchief. "The murderer has
 
   confessed to his crimes, hasn't he? " "No, he hasn't."
 
 
 
   "But they're sure he's one of them? They won't let him out, will
 
   they?
 
 
 
   " She sounded terrified of the possibility. Daniel quickly put her
 
   mind to rest. "They won't let him out, " he assured her.
 
 
 
   She glanced down at her lap. "Oh, Lord, my hands are shaking. I'm not
 
   used to this kind of excitement, and this past week has been
 
   hellacious.
 
 
 
   First, there were the murders at the bank, and then I was named a
 
   witness in the paper, and the fire last night . . . It's too much.
 
 
 
   It's simply too much." Her voice broke.
 
 
 
   Daniel sat down on the edge of the desk to face her. "I know how
 
   distressing this is, but . . . " "No, you don't know, " she cried
 
   out.
 
 
 
   "I'm. . scared." . so . . .
 
 
 
   After whispering the admission, she burst into tears and buried her
 
   face in her hands. "I've been such a coward, but I'm going to do the
 
   right thing now. You don't need to bother Jessica or Grace any longer
 
   because . . . " She didn't go on. Daniel leaned toward her and tried
 
   to look sympathetic, while Cole shoved a glass of water into her
 
   hand.
 
 
 
   "Here, drink this, " he suggested.
 
 
 
   She wiped her face with her handkerchief and looked up at him. "Try to
 
   understand. I didn't want anyone to know . . . I'm engaged to the
 
   most wonderful man. He's a respected businessman and very careful
 
   about appearances. A scandal would ruin him. It's taken him five long
 
   years to get up the courage to propose to me. I thought I could go
 
   back home and pretend none of this happened. You would catch the men
 
   eventually. My fiance runs with a very sophisticated, wealthy crowd.
 
 
 
   Can you see why I would keep silent? " "Rebecca, what are you telling
 
   us? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "I'm your witness. I was hiding under the desk when the Blackwater
 
   gang came inside. The purse you found belongs to me." Both marshals
 
   tried to contain their reaction to the news. Relief flooded through
 
   Cole, and he felt guilty about that. He was just so damned happy it
 
   wasn't Jessica.
 
 
 
   Daniel felt a burst of excitement rush through his veins. She was
 
   there, and, God willing, she saw all of them.
 
 
 
   "They'll try to kill me, won't they? " she whispered.
 
 
 
   "We'll protect you, " Cole fervently promised.
 
 
 
   "You'll try, but they'll find a way to silence me."
 
 
 
   "We aren't going to let anyone hurt you, " Daniel vowed.
 
 
 
   She wiped the tears away from her face before speaking again. "I know
 
   I should have come forward sooner, but I was very frightened. I just
 
   wanted to pretend it didn't happen, and I kept hoping that you would
 
   catch them . . . eventually. I'm so sorry I lied. It isn't like me
 
   to act so cowardly."
 
 
 
   "You were scared, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   "Yes, " she whispered. "And now poor Jessica and Grace have both been
 
   dragged into this nightmare. Neither one of them was in the bank at
 
   closing time. I know because I was there, and if I had had the courage
 
   to speak up sooner, they wouldn't be living in fear now."
 
 
 
   "You were seen inside the bank earlier that afternoon, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   "Yes, I was there, but I went back. I needed to finish some
 
   business.
 
 
 
   I thought I could just run into the bank and . . . " A defeated look
 
   crossed her face. "I'll go to Blackwater with you and look at the man
 
   they've captured, " she whispered. "If he's one of the Blackwater
 
   gang, I'll point him out and testify in court." She wiped another tear
 
   from her cheek before continuing. "I'm begging you. Let Jessica and
 
   Grace get on with their lives. They want to leave town this afternoon,
 
   as soon as they can, and I think they should be allowed to, " she
 
   added. "They shouldn't be hounded or punished any longer because of my
 
   cowardice. You don't have to worry that the gang will come after
 
   them.
 
 
 
   I've thought about this long and hard, and I think I've come up with
 
   the perfect solution to ensure they'll be left alone."
 
 
 
   "And what's that? " Daniel asked.
 
 
 
   "I'm going to tell the reporter for the newspaper that I'm the
 
   witness.
 
 
 
   I'm certain he'll put the announcement on the front page of tomorrow's
 
   edition. I'll go over to his office as soon as I leave here." Daniel
 
   was shaking his head. Cole put his coffee cup down and took a step
 
   toward her. "We can't let you do that."
 
 
 
   "You can't stop me, " she cried out. "I will protect Jessica and Grace
 
   as best I can. It's my fault they're caught in the middle of this
 
   nightmare. Hopefully, one of the Blackwater gang will see the
 
   interview and leave those poor innocent women alone."
 
 
 
   "I can stop you, " Daniel countered. "You are not going to talk to any
 
   reporters. Do I make myself clear? " "But I must let everyone know
 
   Jessica and Grace weren't there. Don't you understand? They're being
 
   treated like lepers in this town, and they haven't done anything
 
   wrong." She sounded on the verge of hysteria.
 
 
 
   Cole quickly tried to calm her down. "You didn't do anything wrong
 
   either, Rebecca. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong
 
   time.
 
 
 
   " "Do Jessica and Grace know that you've come forward? " Daniel
 
   asked.
 
 
 
   "When Sloan locked the three of you in the cell together, did you tell
 
   them then that you were the witness? Is that why all of you told us
 
   the same story? " She seemed surprised. "They were both very
 
   frightened. I remember telling them exactly what I was going to say to
 
   you. Why? Did they say the very same thing? " Neither marshal
 
   answered her question. "Did you tell them you saw the robbery and the
 
   murders? " Cole pressed.
 
 
 
   "No, I didn't, but I think they knew. They were protecting me by not
 
   telling you what they suspected. They're both very kind-hearted ladies,
 
   and they wanted to help me. I could pack and be ready to leave in an
 
   hour. I'd like to get going as soon as possible." With a tilt of his
 
   head, Daniel motioned Cole to step outside with him.
 
 
 
   They left the door open but spoke in low whispers so Rebecca wouldn't
 
   overhear.
 
 
 
   "She isn't going to get near the reporter, " Daniel muttered.
 
 
 
   "I agree, " Cole said. "She's right, though, about leaving. We better
 
   get her out of town as quickly as possible."
 
 
 
   "I wanted to wait . . .
 
 
 
   " "For what? " Cole demanded.
 
 
 
   "Marhsal Cooper and a couple of deputies are coming up from Salt Lake
 
   City to help. They should be here any time, and I'll let them take
 
   charge of Jessica and Grace, while you and I escort Rebecca to
 
   Blackwater."
 
 
 
   "And if Jessica and Grace want to leave Rockford Falls in the
 
   meantime?
 
 
 
   Are they going to be safe? " ''Yes, " Daniel answered. "Cooper and
 
   his deputies will go with them to make certain no one bothers them. "
 
   "Do you trust this Cooper? " "Yeah, " Daniel answered. "He's a good
 
   man. I've worked with him on other cases. Trust me. He knows what
 
   he's doing." Rebecca drew both marshals back to her side when she
 
   burst into tears again. "They're going to come after me, aren't
 
   they?
 
 
 
   " Cole wanted to lie to her, but Daniel was quicker and was bluntly
 
   truthful. "Yes, they'll probably come after you, but we aren't going
 
   to let them touch you."
 
 
 
   "We have to leave. Now, " she demanded. "I won't stay here another
 
   minute. It's too dangerous, " she added in a panic.
 
 
 
   "Before any decisions are made, you need to tell us exactly what
 
   happened from the minute you walked into the bank."
 
 
 
   "No, we must leave now. I'll tell you everything you want to know on
 
   the train when I feel safe."
 
 
 
   "Rebecca, we need to hear the details now, " Daniel insisted.
 
 
 
   She was sobbing in earnest now and trembling. Gripping her hands
 
   together, she whispered, "It was horrible. I remember I was in a
 
   hurry, and I didn't like having to stand in line again. I didn't talk
 
   to any of the other customers while I waited. The bank was going to
 
   close and the tellers were very slow. I worried I wouldn't get all of
 
   my errands done.
 
 
 
   Oh, God, Franklin helped me, and now he's dead. I met him at church
 
   and he was such a kind man." Before she could continue, a messenger
 
   from the hotel came rushing inside. He was a tall, lanky boy with
 
   pockmarks on his face. "Marshal Ryan? I'm sorry to intrude, but this
 
   message I'm supposed to give you is urgent." He stared at Rebecca
 
   while he handed the sealed envelope to Daniel.
 
 
 
   "Why's she crying? " he asked.
 
 
 
   No one answered him. "Ma'am, is there anything I can do to make you
 
   feel better? " he asked.
 
 
 
   She shook her head. He shrugged in response, then asked Daniel if he
 
   wanted him to take back a reply.
 
 
 
   Daniel read the contents before answering. "Tell Miss Winthrop I'll be
 
   along in a little while."
 
 
 
   "She said it was urgent, Marshal, " the messenger repeated. "She wants
 
   to leave town. She told me so herself just before the doctor went into
 
   her room to check on her."
 
 
 
   "Go back to the hotel and tell her I'll be there as soon as I finish up
 
   a couple of things."
 
 
 
   "It ain't Miss Winthrop, " the messenger said as he started out the
 
   doorway. "It's Lady Winthrop. She's titled, " he added importantly.
 
 
 
   "The night manager told me so." Daniel wasn't paying any attention to
 
   the boy. Rebecca was using Cole's handkerchief to wipe her tears
 
   away.
 
 
 
   As soon as the door closed behind the messenger, Daniel began to grill
 
   Rebecca with questions.
 
 
 
   "How many were there? " "Seven, " she answered. "There were seven
 
   men. I didn't see all of their faces."
 
 
 
   "Start at the beginning and tell us everything, " Cole demanded.
 
 
 
   She bowed her head, closed her eyes, and then gave a concise account of
 
   what had happened inside the bank. By the time she was finished, she
 
   was openly sobbing again and clinging to Cole's hand.
 
 
 
   "Reliving the nightmare is almost as awful as being there . . . " Cole
 
   patted her. "We know how hard this was for you, " he sympathized.
 
 
 
   "You've been a tremendous help, " Daniel said.
 
 
 
   Cole agreed with a nod. "Do you have any more questions for her? " he
 
   asked Daniel.
 
 
 
   "No, she's told us everything we need to know." Rebecca stood up, took
 
   a calming breath, and said, "You will get all of them, won't you?
 
 
 
   Promise me you will."
 
 
 
   "We promise, " Cole answered.
 
 
 
   Daniel walked her to the door. "Why don't you take a few minutes to
 
   relax before you pack."
 
 
 
   "Like it or not, I'm leaving this town today, " she threatened. "If
 
   you have any decency at all, you won't tell Jessica and Grace that I'm
 
   the witness because it would only upset them, and I don't want them to
 
   hate me for not coming forward sooner.
 
 
 
   " "I'm sure they would both understand why you kept silent, but don't
 
   worry. Cole and I don't plan to tell them. And we will leave today, "
 
   he promised.
 
 
 
   "Thank you, Marshal. I shall be ready in one hour." The guard was
 
   waiting to escort Rebecca back to the hotel.
 
 
 
   He suggested that they alter their route and take one of the streets
 
   parallel to the hotel. He was armed to the teeth with a pair of
 
   six-shooters and a shotgun. Daniel noticed the way he watched the
 
   street as he walked along and decided that Rebecca was in good hands.
 
 
 
   "What does Grace want that's so urgent? " Cole asked him.
 
 
 
   "Her note just says she wants to talk to me at the hotel before she
 
   leaves town. She thinks she's going to get out of her sickbed and
 
   drive a wagon. The woman doesn't have the sense God gave her. "
 
   "She's got the determination, though, " Cole said. "I've got the
 
   feeling she could pull it off if we let her."
 
 
 
   "We aren't going to let her go anywhere alone, " Daniel countered.
 
 
 
   "Cooper's going to stick to both women until every member of the
 
   Blackwater gang has been captured."
 
 
 
   "That could take a hell of a long time."
 
 
 
   "I don't think so, " Daniel said. "If the gang finds out about
 
   Rebecca, they'll be coming after her, and, God willing, we'll get every
 
   last one of them."
 
 
 
   "You're going to use her as bait, aren't you? " "I'm going to get her
 
   to Blackwater alive." Cole nodded agreement. "I thought Rebecca was
 
   the witness, but it was just a guess. Noţthat isn't true. I hoped it
 
   wasn't Jessica."
 
 
 
   "I can understand why. She's got enough on her plate now, raising that
 
   baby on her own." Cole was staring out the front window. "Didn't you
 
   tell me Grace wanted you to see her at the hotel? " "That's what her
 
   note said, " Daniel answered.
 
 
 
   "She's crossing the street with Sloan hot on her trail."
 
 
 
   "Son of a .
 
 
 
   . . " Daniel ran out the doorway just as Grace came hurrying down the
 
   boardwalk. He grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her inside the
 
   office.
 
 
 
   "What in God's name are you doing out of bed? " His concern for her
 
   well-being was evident in his expression. He thought she looked like
 
   the walking dead, and he fully expected her to faint at any moment.
 
 
 
   The left side of her face was still slightly swollen. Daniel wanted to
 
   pick her up and carry her back to the hotel. He pulled her to his side
 
   and looked out at the street beyond.
 
 
 
   Sloan was lounging against the hitching post.
 
 
 
   "I had to see you, " she explained. "The sheriff was eating his
 
   breakfast in the dining room, so I slipped out the side door."
 
 
 
   "I saw her going down the steps out of the corner of my eye, " Sloan
 
   interjected. "I had to leave a full plate of food to chase after
 
   her.
 
 
 
   " Grace was trying to hold on to her patience. "Daniel, I must speak
 
   to you. I'm sorry if it isn't convenient, but it's terribly
 
   important.
 
 
 
   She looked around the office and then asked, "Isn't Jessica here yet?
 
 
 
   You did tell us to be here this morning."
 
 
 
   "York walked her over to Dr. Lawrence's house to look in on Tilly, "
 
   Sloan said. "She took the boy with her."
 
 
 
   "What in thunder are you women thinking? " Cole snapped. "Three
 
   potential witnesses strolling around town without a care in the
 
   world.
 
 
 
   It's enough to make the saints scream. I'm going over to Lawrence's
 
   house and take Jessica back to the hotel." He glared at Sloan when he
 
   added, "And if I have to drag her, by God I will." The sheriff backed
 
   out of Cole's way and watched him cross the street.
 
 
 
   Daniel slammed the door in Sloan's face then, giving Grace privacy for
 
   their talk.
 
 
 
   "Why is Cole so upset? " "He's upset because you and Rebecca and
 
   Jessica are making it impossible for us to protect you."
 
 
 
   "You don't think in broad daylight that someone might try . . . " He
 
   interrupted her. "I'm taking you back to the hotel."
 
 
 
   "No, " she insisted. "I need to tell you something. It's important,
 
   Daniel." She tried to make herself let go of his hand, since she felt
 
   it was a sign of weakness for her to cling to the lawman, but she
 
   couldn't pull away.
 
 
 
   She was so scared, she could barely gather her thoughts. What she was
 
   about to do was going to changeher future irrevocably, and all of her
 
   dreams were going to be crushed.
 
 
 
   There wasn't any other choice, though. She had to do the right
 
   thing.
 
 
 
   He gave in. "All right, Grace. What did you want to tell me? " "I'm
 
   your witness, " she blurted out. "I was the one hiding in the
 
   kneehole." Aside from the muscle in his clenched jaw twitching, Daniel
 
   didn't show any reaction to her announcement.
 
 
 
   "You're the witness? " he demanded.
 
 
 
   "Yes. I'm so sorry I didn't have the courage to come forward sooner,
 
   but I was frightened. Jessica and Rebecca had already left the bank.
 
 
 
   They were telling you the truth. I wasn't, and now I've caused them
 
   all sorts of trouble. You'll let them leave now, won't you? " Daniel
 
   didn't answer her. His gut was telling him she was lying. The longer
 
   he stood there the angrier he became.
 
 
 
   "How many were there? " Without a pause, she answered, "Seven. "
 
   Tears brimmed in her eyes, and Daniel suddenly had the urge to comfort
 
   her and shake her at the same time. He didn't give in to either
 
   inclination. "All right, I'm taking you back to the hotel, and you can
 
   tell me everything."
 
 
 
   "But I'm worried about Jessica and Rebecca, " she cried. "I believe
 
   I've found a way to make certain that they'll be left alone." Daniel
 
   guessed what was coming and let out a loud groan.
 
 
 
   "Ah, hell, you didn't talk to the reporter, did you? " The question
 
   surprised her, for she had only just come up with the idea. "No, but I
 
   want to, " she said. "I thought I would go to the newspaper office and
 
   ask the gentleman there to print the truth in tomorrow's paper. I'm
 
   sure the reporter will be happy to listen to what I have to say. "
 
   "You are not going to talk to the reporter." He snapped the command
 
   and squeezed her hand to let her know he meant what he said.
 
 
 
   She was stunned by his burst of anger. He was furious, she realized,
 
   for his blue eyes had turned as cold as winter. She bowed her head.
 
 
 
   "I thought you would be pleased with my confession. I don't understand
 
   your anger, Daniel." He took a deep breath. "Grace, " he began.
 
 
 
   "Are you telling the truth? " She jerked her hand away from his and
 
   tried to get around him. "There's something else you should know. "
 
   "Yes? " Daniel asked.
 
 
 
   "The fire . . . it wasn't an accident, " she blurted out. "I remember
 
   what happened, and I remember . . . apples."
 
 
 
   "Apples? " he repeated, clearly not understanding.
 
 
 
   She nodded. "I was having trouble sleeping. That isn't unusual, " she
 
   thought to add. "I never sleep through the night. I thought I heard a
 
   peculiar noise coming from downstairs. It sounded like glasses
 
   tinkling."
 
 
 
   "I don't understand."
 
 
 
   "You know . . . when you toast someone and your glass clinks against
 
   another glass . . . It was that sound that I thought I heard."
 
 
 
   "So what did you do? " "Tilly wasn't feeling very well, and I didn't
 
   want to disturb her, so I put on my robe and my slippers and went
 
   downstairs to investigate. If someone was knocking on the front door,
 
   I wasn't going to open it, of course.
 
 
 
   I was going to tell whoever it was to come back in the morning.
 
 
 
   When I reached the foyer, I noticed the dining room window was wide
 
   open. The wind was making the curtains billow into the room. I became
 
   alarmed because I remembered closing it before I went up to bed, and I
 
   was the last one to go up the stairs."
 
 
 
   "What did you do then? " Daniel asked.
 
 
 
   "I went into the dining room to shut the window, and that's when I
 
   smelled coal oil."
 
 
 
   "You mean kerosene? " "Yes, kerosene, " she answered. "I put my hand
 
   on the windowsill and it was covered with oil. It was as though
 
   someone had only just poured it there." l s "And then what happened?
 
 
 
   " "Tilly had placed a basket of apples on the kitchen table after
 
   supper.
 
 
 
   One of her daughters had given them to her."
 
 
 
   "What do apples have to do with the fire? " "I could smell apples. I
 
   know it sounds crazy, but I think someone was eating one. I wanted to
 
   run upstairs and wake Jessica and Tilly, but I was suddenly afraid to
 
   move. I could feel the breeze on my arms from the swinging door that
 
   connects the kitchen with the dining room, and I heard the squeak the
 
   hinges make. I knew someone was rushing toward me.
 
 
 
   I could feel him coming. I turned and started to scream, but I don't
 
   know if I made a sound or not."
 
 
 
   "That's when you were struck, wasn't it? " "I don't remember being
 
   hit. I just remember turning, and then you were leaning over me,
 
   Daniel, and I was outside . . . in the grass. If Jessica hadn't found
 
   me and dragged me out, I would have died in the fire.
 
 
 
   "I'm your witness, " she whispered once again. "I don't want them to
 
   hurt Jessica or Rebecca. They're innocent." Daniel couldn't resist
 
   touching her. He reached out to wipe away a tear from her cheek.
 
 
 
   "You're also innocent, Grace." They stared into one another's eyes for
 
   a long minute. Daniel was overwhelmed with the desire to keep her
 
   safe. He had failed with his wife and his daughter because he hadn't
 
   been there to protect them. He decided then and there that he wouldn't
 
   let Grace out of his sight.
 
 
 
   Any one who tried to harm her would have to go through him first.
 
 
 
   "Daniel, are you all right? " "Yeah, I am."
 
 
 
   "You look terribly . .
 
 
 
   . angry."
 
 
 
   "I don't want anything to happen to you, Grace." He was gripping her
 
   shoulders, his hold fierce, protective. He was hurting her, but she
 
   knew if she told him so, he'd feel terrible. She gently pulled his
 
   hands away and held on to them. "Nothing's going to happen to me."
 
 
 
   "I'm going to protect you."
 
 
 
   "Yes, you are, " she agreed.
 
 
 
   "And I must protect Jessica and Caleb." He raised an eyebrow. "Why?
 
 
 
   " he asked.
 
 
 
   "She risked her life for me, " she answered.
 
 
 
   "What about Rebecca? Do you feel responsible for her too? " "In a
 
   sense I do. She's been so kind and thoughtful." He put his arm around
 
   her shoulders. "Come on. I'm taking you home, Miss Winthrop.
 
 
 
   No, that isn't right, " he teased. "It's Lady Winthrop, isn't it? "
 
   "No, Daniel, it's Grace. Just plain old Grace."
 
 
 
   "Ah, Grace. There's nothing plain about you. Nothing at all. "ţq v
 
   he baby was in his line of fire. He wanted to kill the boy first, but
 
   he wouldn't give in to the inclination because the mother would have
 
   time to run for cover, and she was his primary target. It was
 
   imperative that she die. There was a deputy walking by her side who
 
   was fully armed, watchful, and who just might get off a lucky shot of
 
   his own if he was given the chance.
 
 
 
   Mr. Johnson shifted his position on his belly, determined to wait
 
   until all three of them were crossing the street. From his perch on
 
   the roof above the general store, he had a nice clear view of the road
 
   below, and with his Winchester, he wouldn't miss. Patience, he told
 
   himself as he felt the surge of excitement rush through him. The guard
 
   first, then the woman, then the boy. One, two, three, as easy as can
 
   be.
 
 
 
   Anticipation made him giddy. The thrill he felt before a kill was as
 
   good as being with a woman. No, it was better than that, he thought.
 
 
 
   Much better.
 
 
 
   They were taking their time, strolling along the boardwalk, stupidly
 
   ignorant and blissfully unaware that they had only seconds left to
 
   live. Their executioner giggled like a young boy while he waited to
 
   seize the opportunity.
 
 
 
   Jessica argued with the guard about their destination. She wanted to
 
   walk over to the jail, but York was determined to take her back to the
 
   hotel. The dour-faced deputy Sloan had hired was a rather plain man
 
   with only one vanity, his handlebar mustache. The long black hairs on
 
   his upper lip curled out and up over the sides of his nose. The pomade
 
   he'd used stiffened and starched each hair, so that when he talked, his
 
   mustache didn't move at all.
 
 
 
   Jessica took hold of Caleb's hand as she stepped off the boardwalk.
 
 
 
   York had hold of her elbow and was trying to guide her across. There
 
   wasn't any traffic on the road behind the physician's house, for it
 
   dead-ended at the stable around the curve. When Caleb wanted to run
 
   ahead, she made certain it was safe for him to do so and then let go of
 
   him.
 
 
 
   Cole had just turned the corner and was striding down the center of the
 
   street toward them when Caleb spotted him. The baby started running.
 
 
 
   He stumbled twice as he tripped along but quickly regained his feet and
 
   continued on. Jessica and York increased their pace to catch up with
 
   him. Caleb was chattering away, and Jessica was smiling like a proud
 
   mother while she watched her baby's antics. When Caleb was about
 
   thirty feet away from Cole, he raised his arms and demanded, "Up, " in
 
   a roar that echoed down the street.
 
 
 
   Mr. Johnson edged up to his knees, swung his Winchester into position,
 
   and fired. The guard dropped. Like a pigeon in a shooting gallery,
 
   York was moving forward one second and dead on the ground the next.
 
 
 
   Jessica screamed. York was facedown in the dirt. The bullet had
 
   sliced through his heart, just as Mr. Johnson intended. He never ever
 
   missed.
 
 
 
   Jessica fell to her knees and struggled to turn the guard over so that
 
   she could help him. There was blood everywhere. "Mr. York, " she
 
   whimpered. "No . . . no . . . Mr. York . . . " She reached for the
 
   gun in his holster and had just pulled it out when a shot spit the dirt
 
   up next to her side. She screamed again, dropped the weapon, and then
 
   grabbed hold once again.
 
 
 
   "Get down, " Cole roared to her as he raced forward. The shots were
 
   coming from the roof above the general store, but he couldn't see the
 
   gunman's exact position. He kept shouting at Jessica to get the hell
 
   out of the street, to duck, but she wasn't listening to him.
 
 
 
   She squinted up at the roof as she lifted the gun with both hands and
 
   tried to fire. She was shaking so much she almost dropped the gun
 
   again, and when she finally fired, the bullet shattered the glass of
 
   the second-story window.
 
 
 
   The sound of gunfire had frightened Caleb, and he was running back to
 
   his mother. "No, " Jessica cried out.
 
 
 
   Mr. Johnson watched as she ran to intercept her baby. He was toying
 
   with her. He was having such a fine time, he couldn't resist playing
 
   cat with his little mouse. Because he so enjoyed the look of stark
 
   terror on the woman's face, he wanted to prolong the thrill. The boy
 
   had quickly come back into range. That was nice. Mr. Johnson smiled
 
   as he once again considered killing the boy before the mother so that
 
   he could watch her expression. It was bound to be priceless.
 
 
 
   She was moving too quickly to suit him. we canpt have that, he thought
 
   with a chuckle as he fired at the ground in front of her. She came to
 
   a dead stop. "That's better, " he whispered, but then she was moving
 
   again, and he had to fire at the ground to get her to stop. Dust
 
   sprayed up into her face.
 
 
 
   Damned if she didn't start running yet again. God love herţ and He
 
   would soon have that opportunity, Mr. Johnson thought, if she went
 
   right to heaven. Was she as pure as she looked? Mr. Johnson
 
   sincerely doubted that. There was no such thing as a pure woman, and
 
   he wasn't going to dispatch this woman to heaven or hell quite yet.
 
 
 
   She had to suffer first. His rules, not God's, but in his mind he was
 
   just as omniscient because he too had the power to determine who lived
 
   and who died.
 
 
 
   "Time's up, " he whispered as he aimed the barrel of the rifle at her
 
   heart. Only a few precious seconds had passed since the first shot was
 
   fired, but it seemed a lifetime before Cole could reach Jessica. He
 
   dove, knocking her to the ground. He rolled onto his back on top of
 
   her, his guns drawn and ready as he squinted against the sunlight to
 
   find the target.
 
 
 
   There . . . in the corner of the roof . . . a flash of metal. "Got
 
   you, " he muttered a scant second before he opened fire.
 
 
 
   His second shot struck his target. The gunman lurched up and back,
 
   stumbled forward on his knees, and then plummeted to the ground. Cole
 
   shot him three more times as he was falling to his death.
 
 
 
   His attention stayed on the outlaw as he slowly rolled to his feet and
 
   moved forward. His anger was beyond control. Caleb's screams echoed
 
   in his ears. The baby was sitting in the dirt, crying for his mama.
 
 
 
   Staggering to her feet, Jessica ran to him. She was too weak to pick
 
   Caleb up and fell to her knees beside him. He clawed at her skirt and
 
   threw himself against her. She wrapped him in her arms and began to
 
   rock back and forth, her sobs overpowering her.
 
 
 
   Daniel had heard the shots from the jail and ran the three blocks to
 
   Lawrence's house. He saw Jessica and Caleb in the street, slowed down
 
   to make sure they were all right, and then continued on to Cole, who
 
   was standing over the dead gunman. Panting, Daniel watched as Cole
 
   kicked the man over onto his back. Every bone in the man's face had
 
   been crushed by the fall. The damage was so severe his own mother
 
   wouldn't have recognized him now.
 
 
 
   "Do you know who he is? " Daniel asked.
 
 
 
   Cole shook his head. "Maybe Rebecca can tell us . . . if she can
 
   recognize him. He was probably one of the gang."
 
 
 
   "Yeah, well, Grace just told me she was in the bank. She swears she's
 
   the witness." Cole was taken aback by the announcement. "Which one's
 
   telling the truth? " "Damned if I know, " Daniel muttered. He
 
   squatted down next to the body and began to search the pockets, looking
 
   for identification.
 
 
 
   Cole waited for another minute or two until he was certain he'd gotten
 
   his anger under control. Then he slowly crossed the street to Jessica,
 
   who was doubled over, hugging her son. Cole put his arms around her
 
   and lifted her up. She tried to jerk away from him. He noticed the
 
   six-shooter in her hand and quickly grabbed it, tossing it on the
 
   ground behind him.
 
 
 
   Caleb reached for him, but Jessica wouldn't let the boy go. She was
 
   still trembling and taking deep, gasping breaths.
 
 
 
   "Why the hell didn't you drop when I told you to? " Cole asked in a
 
   voice as smooth as molasses.
 
 
 
   What he said and how he said it confused her. She couldn't tell if he
 
   was angry or not. "What did you say? " "I asked you to explain why
 
   you didn't dive for cover when I ordered you to, " he repeated.
 
 
 
   "You're angry."
 
 
 
   "Yes, I am."
 
 
 
   "You want to shout at me, don't you?
 
 
 
   " "Yes, I do, " he admitted. "But I won't. It would upset Caleb, and
 
   yelling is pointless. Next time, Jessica, do as I say. I can't
 
   protect you unless you do."
 
 
 
   "Next time? " she shouted.
 
 
 
   Caleb burst into tears again.
 
 
 
   "Ah, hell, now look what you've done, " Cole muttered.
 
 
 
   Daniel joined them. Without a thought as to what he was doing, he took
 
   the baby away from Jessica, turning so that Caleb wouldn't see the body
 
   behind them.
 
 
 
   "Poor baby, " he whispered as he gently patted Caleb's back.
 
 
 
   Properly soothe , the baby put his head down on Daniel's shoulder and
 
   stuck his thumb in his mouth.
 
 
 
   "Did you find any identification? " Cole asked him.
 
 
 
   "No, " Daniel answered. "His pockets were empty." Jessica grabbed
 
   hold of Cole's hand. It had finally dawned on her what he had said.
 
 
 
   "I didn't do as you ordered because Iwasn't thinking. I only wanted to
 
   get to my son to protect him from that madman."
 
 
 
   "I understand, " he said. "But, Jessica, I can't . . . " She squeezed
 
   his hand as she interrupted. "I'm sorry if my conduct upsets you or
 
   offends you, but I swear to you, I'd do it again. No one's going to
 
   hurt my son. Dear God, I can't . . . stop . . . thinking what almost
 
   happened. Caleb could have been killed." He didn't have to reach for
 
   her. She came into his arms willingly, desperately needing to be
 
   comforted.
 
 
 
   He hugged her tight. "You aren't going to cry, are you? " he asked
 
   gruffly. "You're going to upset Caleb if you do."
 
 
 
   "No, I won't cry, but you don't understand, " she whispered. "It's my
 
   fault Mr. York is dead. He was such a nice man. He'd be alive if it
 
   weren't for me."
 
 
 
   "Hush now, " he ordered. "None of this was your doing. Poor baby.
 
 
 
   It's all over now. I know it was frightening."
 
 
 
   "You don't understand."
 
 
 
   "What don't I understand, sweetheart? " He was more stunned than she
 
   appeared to be that he had used the endearment. What was even more
 
   amazing to him was the fact that it had come so easily.
 
 
 
   "I didn't know how to shoot that gun."
 
 
 
   "You did just fine."
 
 
 
   "No, I didn't, " she argued. "And I have to know how."
 
 
 
   "Jessie, I know it was a close call, but I did get the bastard. I can
 
   protect you. Have a little faith in me and let me do my job."
 
 
 
   "I do have faith in you, but I still have to know how to protect my
 
   son." Daniel carried Caleb back to his mother. "Is she all right? "
 
   he asked Cole.
 
 
 
   "Yeah, she's just shaken."
 
 
 
   "It was me, " she blurted out. "I was there."
 
 
 
   "What? " Daniel said.
 
 
 
   It suddenly dawned on Cole what she was trying to tell him. "Let me
 
   guess, " he muttered.
 
 
 
   She stared up at Daniel over Cole's shoulder. "I'm your witness. "
 
   "Ah, hell." Daniel whispered lithe expletive with a sigh.
 
 
 
   Caleb promptly repeated it.
 
 
 
   "Now what? " Cole asked as he tightened his hold on Jessica. She had
 
   willingly gone to him, and he wasn't going to let go.
 
 
 
   "What's going on here? " Daniel asked, his anger mounting as he
 
   spoke.
 
 
 
   "Know what I think? " Cole said. He squeezed Jessica before adding,
 
   "It was damned crowded under that desk. "- v he office in the front of
 
   the jail was crowded with lawmen. Marshal Jack Cooper, head of
 
   operations in Salt Lake City, and two young deputies named Spencer and
 
   Cobb, had just arrived in Rockford Falls. The three men had ridden
 
   hard and were parched and covered with a layer of dust.
 
 
 
   Cooper was a good friend of Daniel's. The two men had worked on
 
   several investigations in the past, though admittedly none of them had
 
   involved women, and all of the cases had been far less convoluted.
 
 
 
   Like Daniel, Cooper was no stranger to danger or the bizarre behavior
 
   of criminals.
 
 
 
   He once escorted a smooth-tongued self-proclaimed reverend who had
 
   brutally killed and mutilated sixteen redheaded men because he believed
 
   the color of their hair indicated that they were spawns of the devil.
 
 
 
   The crazy loon constantly misquoted scripture, insisted that he heard
 
   God's voice every day at noon on the dot, and refused counsel. The
 
   Lord, he declared, would step forward and testify on his behalf.
 
 
 
   Ironically, the judge who heard the case just happened to have carrot
 
   orange hair, and it didn't take him any time at all to recommend to the
 
   jury that the guilty man be hanged.
 
 
 
   Cooper had done and seen it all. Deeply tanned with creases at the
 
   corners of his brown eyes and prematurely silver-tipped hair, he looked
 
   more like a senator than a lawman. Nothing ever fazed him. After
 
   reading Daniel's notes, he tossed the pad on the desk and sat down.
 
 
 
   The two deputies leaned against the wall behind him.
 
 
 
   "It seems to me that you're letting these three women run your
 
   investigation, " he remarked as he stretched his long legs out and
 
   crossed one ankle over the other.
 
 
 
   Cole heard the comment as he came in the door. He had just returned
 
   from the hotel.
 
 
 
   Daniel introduced him to Cooper and his deputies. "This is Marshal
 
   Clayborne, " he said. "He's new to the job." The deputies rushed
 
   forward to shake his hand. Spencer looked awestruck and asked, "Is
 
   your first name Cole? Are you that Clayborne brother? " "Yes, " Cole
 
   answered.
 
 
 
   "I've heard all about you, sir."
 
 
 
   "Is that right? " Cole asked, wondering what he had heard.
 
 
 
   "Yes, sir, " Spencer said. He looked at the other deputy and
 
   whispered, "Clayborne's a legend in Montana." Cobb was dutifully
 
   impressed. Cooper saw Cole roll his eyes in exasperation, and grinned
 
   in reaction.
 
 
 
   "Why don't you boys go on over to the hotel now and get cleaned up.
 
 
 
   After you eat, take the watch from the sheriff and his men for a
 
   while.
 
 
 
   " "Yes, sir, " Spencer said. He nudged Cobb out the doorway but paused
 
   to look at Cole. "Marshal Clayborne, sir? Is it true what happened
 
   down in Springfield? " "Don't believe everything you hear, " Cole
 
   replied.
 
 
 
   "But it's true, isn't it? You shot all four of the Murphy gang before
 
   any of them could get their guns out, didn't you, sir? " "Get going,
 
   Spencer, " Cooper ordered. "You're embarrassing Marshal Clayborne. "
 
   Cole laughed. As soon as the door closed behind the deputies, he said,
 
   "They look awfully young."
 
 
 
   "They are young, " Cooper agreed. "But they're fast with a gun and
 
   they want to be lawmen. They're both tougher than they look." Daniel
 
   spoke to Cole then. "I've decided to change the plans. Cooper's going
 
   to take Rebecca to Blackwater, and you and I will take Grace and
 
   Jessica. We'll split up and all meet in Red Arrow on Thursday, barring
 
   any unforeseen problems."
 
 
 
   "That's fine with me, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   "I thought we should all travel together, " Cooper interjected. "But
 
   Daniel thinks it's safer if we take separate trains."
 
 
 
   "Three beautiful women are bound to draw a lot of attention, " Cole
 
   said.
 
 
 
   "Cooper just told me there's a signed order from Judge Abbott, " Daniel
 
   said.
 
 
 
   "Who's Abbott? " "A judge in Salt Lake, " Daniel answered. "The judge
 
   in Blackwater wired Abbott asking for his help in getting our
 
   cooperation. Since we're on special assignment, we don't have to do as
 
   they ask, but I think we should go along. One of these women saw the
 
   murders, and by God, she will testify."
 
 
 
   "The judge in Blackwater is hopping mad, " Cooper interjected. "I
 
   can't blame him. First, Daniel wires him and tells him he might have a
 
   witness. Then the women say they weren't there, and then they all say
 
   that they were. Have you figured out which one was really inside the
 
   bank at the time of the robbery? " "Not yet, " Daniel said. "I
 
   thought I'd know after each one gave me the details of what
 
   happened."
 
 
 
   "But? " Cooper prodded.
 
 
 
   "They each have their own version. It's maddening."
 
 
 
   "If you had to guess, which one do you think was really there? "
 
   Cooper asked.
 
 
 
   Daniel and Cole said the name at the same time. "Rebecca. "
 
   "Interesting, " Cooper replied.
 
 
 
   "The details she gave us are convincing. She was able to describe some
 
   of the men, and she even knew a couple of their names."
 
 
 
   "Jessica hasn't been able to tell us much yet. She's still pretty
 
   shaken over the shooting." Cooper said, "I've gotta tell you one
 
   thing. These women sure do intrigue me. I can understand why they
 
   would all deny being there.
 
 
 
   They'd be scared and they have all surely heard about the witnesses the
 
   Blackwater boys butchered. What I can't understand is why they'd all
 
   change their tune and say they were there."
 
 
 
   "Daniel thinks they all joined forces, " Cole said. "Sheriff Sloan put
 
   the three of them together in one of the cells, and Daniel thinks
 
   that's when they hatched their plan."
 
 
 
   "What do you know about these women? Have you looked into their
 
   backgrounds? " {We don't know much . . . yet, " Daniel said. "I'm
 
   having each one of them investigated. It's a slow process, though, and
 
   we'll probably be in Blackwater before the information comes back. I
 
   do know bits and pieces, but even that hasn't been verified."
 
 
 
   "Such as? " Cooper asked.
 
 
 
   "According to people she's met in Rockford Falls, Rebecca was born in
 
   New York City and lived with her parents and her cousins in a
 
   tenement.
 
 
 
   There were nine of them in a twobedroom apartment. Both the parents
 
   drank themselves into early graves. Rebecca is self-educated, and
 
   about three years ago, she moved to St. Louis and severed ties with
 
   her relatives. She met a businessman and she's planning to marry him
 
   in the fall. She goes to church every Sunday and works in the
 
   library.
 
 
 
   " "If she's in love, she's probably trying to protect him. She's got
 
   to know this gang could use him to get to her, " Cooper said. "What
 
   about Grace and Jessica? What do you know about them? " "I don't know
 
   anything about Grace yet, other than the fact that she came here from
 
   England and that she wants to buy aranch. I wired some contacts in
 
   London, but I haven't heard back from them yet."
 
 
 
   "And Jessica? " Cooper asked.
 
 
 
   "Her mother died about two years ago. Her father deserted the family
 
   when she was a little girl. Jessica came to Rockford Falls from
 
   Chicago to help with the delivery of her aunt's baby. The aunt was her
 
   mother's sister, and she was the only family she had left."
 
 
 
   "You're talking as though she's dead. Is she? " Cooper asked.
 
 
 
   "Yes, " Daniel answered. "She died a couple of hours after childbirth
 
   from hemorrhage. She and her husband had been married for over fifteen
 
   years when she finally got pregnant. Her husband didn't want the baby,
 
   though. After his wife died, he didn't stay around long enough to name
 
   the baby. He left town the very next day and hasn't been heard of
 
   since."
 
 
 
   "What happened to the baby? " Cooper asked.
 
 
 
   "Jessica happened, " Daniel answered. "She's very young, but she's
 
   doing a hell of a job raising the boy on her own."
 
 
 
   "That's a hard burden for a single woman to take on, ^ Cooper said.
 
 
 
   "She's up to the task, " Cole said. "Jessica's strong."
 
 
 
   "Sounds like she is, " Cooper agreed. "Her baby would be a good reason
 
   for her to keep silent if she were your witness. She'd probably go to
 
   great lengths to protect him."
 
 
 
   "Grace probably had someone she was trying to protect too, " Cole
 
   said.
 
 
 
   "She does, " Daniel replied. "Her parents."
 
 
 
   "Where did you get all this information? " "Tilly MacGuire, " Daniel
 
   answered. "Like I said before, it hasn't been verified. The woman's a
 
   wealth of information.
 
 
 
   She seems to know everything about everyone in this town and all the
 
   folks passing through. She's been very helpful." Cooper stood up and
 
   stretched his arms. "When are you going to leave for Blackwater? " he
 
   asked.
 
 
 
   "I can't go until tomorrow. The doctor wants Grace to stay in bed
 
   another day. It's too bad you can't get some sleep before you head
 
   out.
 
 
 
   You look like hell."
 
 
 
   "You don't look so good yourself, Daniel."
 
 
 
   "I'm fine, " he replied.
 
 
 
   "Cole, when are you going to take Jessica? " '{Wait a minute, " Cole
 
   said. "I can't take Caleb with us. That's out of the question."
 
 
 
   Daniel agreed. "What are we going to do with him?
 
 
 
   " Cole had already considered the problem. "I don't want to leave him
 
   here. Every one knows who he belongs to, " he explained. "I want to
 
   hide him, and I think I've thought of the perfect place."
 
 
 
   "Are you thinking about Rosehill? " "What's Rosehill? " Cooper
 
   asked.
 
 
 
   "My ranch, " Cole answered. "My mother lives there, and my brothers
 
   and my sister come and go. Mama Rose is in Scotland now with my sister
 
   and her husband, and they won't be back for another month."
 
 
 
   "Then where are you going to put Caleb? " "Tom and Josey Norton."
 
 
 
   Daniel smiled. "That's good, Cole. Tom won't let anything happen to
 
   the boy, but Josey just might kill him with her cooking."
 
 
 
   "That's a risk we have to take, " Cole replied. "I'm going to tell Tom
 
   to disappear with Caleb for a little while. If Jessica is the witness,
 
   I don't want the Blackwater gang going after her son." He motioned to
 
   the map spread out on Daniel's desk. "Where's Red Arrow? " he
 
   asked.
 
 
 
   "I've never heard of it before."
 
 
 
   "Blink and you'll miss it, " Cooper said. "It's a tiny hole in the
 
   ground and the turning-around point for the train.
 
 
 
   The town boasts a saloon, a whorehouse, and a stable. In Red Arrow you
 
   sleep outside cause they don't have any hotels. It's a godforsaken
 
   place."
 
 
 
   "It's surrounded by deep caverns, " Daniel remarked. "It's barren, but
 
   beautiful."
 
 
 
   "I think I should leave Jessica with Spencer and Cobb while I take
 
   Caleb to the Nortons. I'll swing back here for her."
 
 
 
   "That won't work, " Daniel said.
 
 
 
   "It's safer for Jessica."
 
 
 
   "It still won't work."
 
 
 
   "Why not? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "Because Jessica will be going with you." Cole didn't like the idea
 
   one bit. "She'll slow me down, " he said. "And like I said, it's
 
   safer. Once I get Caleb to the Nortons, I plan to cut down through
 
   some rough terrain. It's hard riding."
 
 
 
   "You aren't married, are you, son? " Cooper said.
 
 
 
   "No, I'm not married, and I'm sure as certain not your son. You're
 
   old, Cooper, but you aren't that old." Cooper laughed. "I've never
 
   been married, " he admitted. "Daniel wouldn't let me in on this
 
   investigation if I were a family man. He only wants bachelors in case
 
   one of us gets shot. My brother's married, though."
 
 
 
   "Is that right?
 
 
 
   " Cole said, wondering why Cooper was telling him about his family.
 
 
 
   "Yes, he is, " Cooper said. "He's got five girls and two boys, and I
 
   swear to you that if you tried to take one of those seven children away
 
   from his mama, there would be hell to pay. Just how do you suppose
 
   you're going to get Caleb away from his mama? " Cole didn't anticipate
 
   any problems. "I'll simply explain the situation to her." He paused
 
   when he saw the look of disbelief on Cooper's face, then went on to
 
   defend his position. "I know Jessica won't like being separated from
 
   her son, and I expect she'll argue, but in the end, she'll go along.
 
 
 
   I've gotten to know her pretty well in the last two days, and after
 
   I've explained the situation, I'm positive she'll be reasonable. "<_)
 
   he threatened to kill him. Jessica was anything but reasonable. Cole
 
   had believed that, because he was a U. S. marshal, she would do
 
   whatever he told her to do. That was his first mistake. Letting her
 
   get close to his gun was his second. He hadn't realized how arrogant
 
   he'd been with his assumptions until she grabbed his gun and threatened
 
   to put a hole through his black heart if he touched her son.
 
 
 
   After packing his satchels, he had gone to her hotel room, knocked on
 
   the door, and when she'd let him insideţkeeping the door open so that
 
   the deputy assigned to protect her could see that nothing inappropriate
 
   was going onţhe had quickly explained that he was going to take Caleb
 
   north and that she was going to wait in Rockford Falls until he
 
   returnedţthen she was going to Texas.
 
 
 
   Fortunately, Caleb slept through the whispered argument that
 
   followed.
 
 
 
   The baby was curled up in a ball on the cot, his chin wet with drool.
 
 
 
   He looked like an angelţbut the fire in his mother's eyes was anything
 
   but angelic. She was acting like a bear determined to protect her
 
   young.
 
 
 
   "You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to let you take my
 
   son.
 
 
 
   " "Jessica, stop waving my gun around. It might go off. Give it back
 
   to me." Deputy Spencer stepped into the room. "Marshal, do you need
 
   some help? " Cole shook his head. "No, it's all right." Jessica
 
   stood at the foot of the double bed, the gun pointing to the floor
 
   now.
 
 
 
   She was tense and out of sorts, and there were dark circles under her
 
   eyes. The strain was beginning to show on her.
 
 
 
   "You're going to be reasonable about this, " he said.
 
 
 
   She shook her head. "I'm not going to Blackwater, and you're not going
 
   to touch Caleb."
 
 
 
   "I know it's difficult for you to give me your son, but I promise you
 
   he'll be safe and well taken care of."
 
 
 
   "Get out." He ignored the command as he crossed to the chair adjacent
 
   to the bed and sat down. His arm deliberately brushed hers when he
 
   walked past her, and he could have easily snatched the gun out of her
 
   hand then, but didn't.
 
 
 
   "I told you to leave."
 
 
 
   "I'm not going anywhere until you listen to reason." She glanced from
 
   the deputy to Cole and then back again.
 
 
 
   Cole had a gun in his other holster, which made him armed and
 
   dangerous, and Spencer had his hand on the hilt of his gun.
 
 
 
   "I can't make up my mind which one of you I'm going to shoot first. "
 
   Spencer glanced at Cole to see what he was going to do about her
 
   threat.
 
 
 
   Cole ignored the deputy and kept his gaze on Jessica.
 
 
 
   "Please leave before I do something you'll regret."
 
 
 
   "Spencer, " Cole said, "close the door. Jessica and I are going to
 
   have a private talk.
 
 
 
   " "We are not, " she whispered.
 
 
 
   "Are you sure you don't want me to stay, Marshal Clayborne? " Spencer
 
   asked as he reached for the doorknob.
 
 
 
   "I'm sure." Spencer looked disappointed. Cole waited until the door
 
   was shut and then told Jessica to sit down. She shook her head and
 
   continued to stand there glaring at him.
 
 
 
   He smiled at her. In fact, he couldn't take his eyes off her. She'd
 
   changed her dress and looked even prettier than she had an hour
 
   before.
 
 
 
   She wore an old, faded honey-colored dress that had probably been the
 
   color of gold at one time. The dress, noticeably threadbare at the
 
   elbows and frayed at the cuffs, was probably a hand-me-down, but on her
 
   it was still beautiful. Her hair was tied back behind her neck with a
 
   thin white ribbon. Strands had worked free of the confinement and
 
   curled around her ears. She defined sensuality and femininity, and
 
   when she took a step toward him, the light scent of lilacs came with
 
   her.
 
 
 
   Damn, but she was something else.
 
 
 
   "What are you staring at? " she demanded.
 
 
 
   'You, " he answered. "You're a very beautiful woman, Jessica." The
 
   compliment took the wind out of her. He didn't order her to sit down
 
   this time. He asked.
 
 
 
   "I want you to listen to what I have to say, and when I'm finished, if
 
   you still want to shoot me, I'll let you."
 
 
 
   "You know I won't shoot you, }' she muttered as she handed the gun back
 
   to him. "I'd like to, " she hastily qualified. "But I won't. The
 
   noise would wake the baby.
 
 
 
   " He laughed. "You're all talk, Jessie."
 
 
 
   "You can't make me go to Texas."
 
 
 
   "Yes, I can, " he countered, his voice firm now, unyielding.
 
 
 
   She buried her face in her hands. "I didn't do anything wrong. Why
 
   don't you leave Caleb and me alone? " "You know I can't do that. "
 
   She put her head down on his shoulder and quietly wept. He dug his
 
   handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. Hedidn't tell her
 
   to stop crying, figuring she needed to get rid of the tension inside
 
   her, but he hated knowing that he was part of the reason she was so
 
   distressed.
 
 
 
   Long minutes passed before she was able to gain control.
 
 
 
   Ole eld her close, noticing how soft she felt against him. now you
 
   didn't do anything wrong, " he whispered. "The Judge down in Texas
 
   wants you to come to Blackwater." But what about Rebecca and Grace, "
 
   she cried out. "Are "Hush, you'll wake the baby, " he reminded her.
 
 
 
   "I don't want you to worry about your friends. Daniel will watch out
 
   "How can I not worry? " "Trust me, " he replied.
 
 
 
   "I'll try. But, I can't stop thinking about Rebecca and Grace.
 
 
 
   They're in danger because of me, aren't they? " "Yes, they are. Your
 
   names were published in the paper as potential witnesses, and I don't
 
   think the men who murdered those innocent people will stop until
 
   they've gotten every one of you. I can understand why none of you
 
   would want to admit you were there, but . . . " She started crying.
 
 
 
   The sight of her tears made Cole feel like a ee .
 
 
 
   He started to reach for her, then stopped himself.
 
 
 
   I on t like women who cry, " he said "Then you must hate me. I cry all
 
   the time. I don't cry in ront of Caleb, though. It would upset him.
 
 
 
   Sometimes . . . Iate at dnight, I pull the covers over my head so no
 
   on h He put his arm around her and pulled her to his side "I on t like
 
   hearing that. What makes you cry ath ? " "Of what? " "Failing. "
 
   "You have a hard life, Jessie."
 
 
 
   "Oh, no, I have a wonderful life with Caleb, " she whispered I'm very
 
   content. I JUSt get . . . tired sometimes. Everything was going so
 
   well until the day I walked into the bank. I'm ready to tell you what
 
   happened if you want me to, " she added. "Then you'll believe me. I
 
   know I've lied to you. I shouldn't have told you I wasn't there, but I
 
   was trying to protect Caleb."
 
 
 
   "I'm going to help you protect your son. I've found a safe place for
 
   him, Jessica. You can't take him with you to Blackwater, and you know
 
   you have to go." She finally accepted the inevitable. "Yes, I know.
 
 
 
   Couldn't I leave him with Tilly? She loves him and would take care of
 
   him. Caleb knows her.
 
 
 
   He wouldn't be afraid or feel abandoned." Cole wouldn't hear of it.
 
 
 
   "Jessie, everyone here knows who Caleb belongs to, and it would be easy
 
   to get him away from Tilly. She's an old woman. I don't want to leave
 
   him in Rockford Falls."
 
 
 
   "Why would anyone want to take him? " she asked.
 
 
 
   "Holding your son hostage is a good way to make you keep silent during
 
   the trial."
 
 
 
   "Oh, God."
 
 
 
   "Jessica, the couple I've thought of will take good care of him. Let
 
   me tell you about them. They're older. .
 
 
 
   . like grandparents . . . " He spent a good fifteen minutes telling
 
   her everything he knew about Tom and Josey Norton. He went into great
 
   detail about Tom's background, stressing the fact that he had quite a
 
   reputation with a gun and that he was now a lawman, but he didn't
 
   mention Josey's lack of skills in the kitchen. When he had run out of
 
   things to tell her, Jessica didn't seem to be quite as resistant to the
 
   idea.
 
 
 
   "You said they always wanted children? " she asked.
 
 
 
   "Yes, " he answered.
 
 
 
   "If you had a son, would you leave him with the Nortons? " "Yes, " he
 
   said again.
 
 
 
   "I'll have to meet them before I decide. If I don't like them and I
 
   don't feel that they'll take good care of Caleb, I'm not leaving him
 
   with them." She was determined to go with him, and nothing he could
 
   say would make her budge on that issue.
 
 
 
   1 8 1
 
 
 
   "When do we leave? " she asked. "To go north with Caleb? " "Ah,
 
   Jessie, don't start crying again. It's going to be all right. You
 
   want to know that he's safe, don't you? " "Yes, yes, of course I do.
 
 
 
   It's just that I don't know the Nortons, and I . . . " He started for
 
   the door. "Pack light, Jessica. One bag for you and one for Caleb. "
 
   "I have to talk to Grace before I go anywhere."
 
 
 
   "It's out of the question."
 
 
 
   "Will we be coming back to Rockford Falls after we take Caleb? " "No,
 
   we're going directly to Texas."
 
 
 
   "What about my things?
 
 
 
   Everything I own is packed in Grace's wagon."
 
 
 
   "I'll have it taken over to the livery stable. The owner can keep an
 
   eye on it. You can ride a horse, can't you? " "Yes, " she said,
 
   though she didn't add the fact that she couldn't ride well. "I'd like
 
   to purchase a gun before we leave, and I'd like you to teach me how to
 
   use it. I want to be accurate." He didn't like hearing that she
 
   wanted a weapon. "Just aim and shoot, " he said. "That's all there is
 
   to it. You don't need to carry a gun anyway."
 
 
 
   "Yes, I do, " she argued. "Will you teach me how to use it? " You
 
   already shot York's gun."
 
 
 
   "I want to be accurate, " she insisted.
 
 
 
   He didn't waste time debating the point. "We'll leave as soon as Caleb
 
   wakes up. Now what? " he asked when she shook her head at him.
 
 
 
   "He has to eat first."
 
 
 
   "Fine, " he said. "After he eats, we'll leave. You might want to pack
 
   some food he likes, " he thought to add.
 
 
 
   "How long will it take us to get to the Nortons' home? " "Not long, "
 
   he promised. "And, Jessie, I don't want you to tell anyone where we're
 
   taking Caleb. Don't even say Nortons' name again, because someone
 
   might overhear. All right? " l "Yes." He was walking out the doorway
 
   when she called out to him.
 
 
 
   "Cole? " "Yes? " "Promise me you won't let anything happen to my
 
   son.
 
 
 
   " "I promise." And time remembered is gnef forgotten, And frosts are
 
   slain and flowers begotten, Rebecca sat on the stone bench in the small
 
   garden in the back of the hotel. Her packed valises were on the ground
 
   beside her. It was safe and quiet, and very secluded this time of day,
 
   for none of the other guests wanted to venture out into the hot
 
   afternoon sun. The garden was surrounded on all sides by a high brick
 
   wall and thick pruned evergreens. Spencer and Cobb stood guard by the
 
   door leading out from the atrium, while their superior, Marshal Cooper,
 
   paced in agitation.
 
 
 
   Impatient to get going, he was waiting for the private coach they'd
 
   ordered to arrive.
 
 
 
   She was concerned that Grace and Jessica would see her leave.
 
 
 
   After checking the time, she glanced at the doorway. "I feel terrible
 
   not saying good-bye to Jessica and Grace, but I don't want them to know
 
   I'm going to Texas to look at the man they're holding. They'll worry
 
   about me, " she added. "I hope we don't run into them when we leave
 
   the hotel." You don't have to worry about that, " Cooper said.
 
 
 
   "Neither lady will see you leave."
 
 
 
   "How can you be so certain? " "Grace has been ordered to stay in bed
 
   until tomorrow, and Marshal Ryan has a guard posted at her door. He
 
   isn't going to let her out, and he isn't going to let her have
 
   visitors."
 
 
 
   "What about Jessica? " "She left with Marshal Clayborne a couple of
 
   hours ago."
 
 
 
   "What do you mean, she left? Where did she go? " Rebecca cried out.
 
 
 
   "Did she have an errand to do? Will she be back today? " "No."
 
 
 
   "Where is she? " "She's in good hands, " Cooper said. You shouldn't
 
   worry about her.
 
 
 
   " "How long ago did she leave? Did you say a couple of hours? " "Yes,
 
   " he answered. "We should have left then too, but finding a decent
 
   coach has taken time. You're certain you won't ride a horse to the
 
   train station? " "I'm certain. I was raised in the city, Marshal, and
 
   as I explained before, I have absolutely no experience riding. I'd
 
   break my neck."
 
 
 
   "All right then, " he said. "It shouldn't be much longer before the
 
   coach gets here. We'll just wait."
 
 
 
   "You still haven't told me where Jessica has gone." Cooper braced
 
   himself before looking directly at Rebecca. He didn't want her to know
 
   the effect she was having on him, but, Lord, it was difficult to keep
 
   himself from staring. She was an incredibly beautiful woman, and with
 
   the sun beating down on her golden hair, she looked as though she were
 
   wearing a halo. The first sight of her angelic face had all but
 
   knocked the legs out from under him. Daniel really should have warned
 
   him, he decided, so that he could have prepared himself.
 
 
 
   Spencer and Cobb were openly besotted with all three women. Since
 
   meeting them, they had behaved like boys who had just discovered the
 
   opposite sex. It was damned disgusting. Slowly lowering his gaze, he
 
   asked Rebecca to repeat her question.
 
 
 
   "I want to know where Jessica and Cole have gone."
 
 
 
   "I don't know their destination."
 
 
 
   "North, " Spencer blurted out.
 
 
 
   Cooper gave the deputy a look that suggested he not say another word.
 
 
 
   "Cole and Jessica took the baby to a friend's house." "Was it one of
 
   Cole's friends? " she asked. "It must be, " she added.
 
 
 
   "Jessica's friends are in Chicago . . . except for Grace and me.
 
 
 
   We're her dear friends. Why did she need to take Caleb away? And why
 
   wonXt you tell me where she's gone? You're a marshal, for heaven's
 
   sake. You should know."
 
 
 
   "Sorry, but I don't know, " he said.
 
 
 
   "I just worry about her."
 
 
 
   "The three of you have become close, haven't you? " "Tragic
 
   circumstances forced us together, and we found we had quite a lot in
 
   common." Cooper felt sorry for Rebecca. She sounded so forlorn and
 
   looked so damned vulnerable.
 
 
 
   "You're going to see both of your friends real soon, " he promised.
 
 
 
   "I will? " she asked eagerly. "When? " "Jessica and Cole and Grace
 
   and Daniel will all catch up with us." She frowned in confusion. "I
 
   don't understand. Are you telling me that Grace and Jessica are going
 
   to Texas too? " "Yes."
 
 
 
   "But why? I'm the witness."
 
 
 
   "I realize that, " he replied. "However, we have to keep the other
 
   women safe until after the trial. Once you've testified, the ordeal
 
   will be over.
 
 
 
   Until then, all of you need guards. Besides, Judge Rafferty wants all
 
   three of you."
 
 
 
   "How soon will I see them? " "They're meeting us in Red Arrow, " he
 
   answered. "We'll probably get there before Cole and Jessica, but they
 
   might surprise us and meet our train."
 
 
 
   "Red Arrow's the last stop then? Does that mean I have to ride a horse
 
   to Blackwater? " Her worry made him smile. "You can ride with me, or
 
   I'll find a buggy somewhere." She stared down at her hands and
 
   whispered, "This is all wrong. If I had come forward sooner, Grace and
 
   Jessica wouldn't be living in fear."
 
 
 
   "Why didn't you tell the truth in the beginning? Was it fear? " "Yes,
 
   " she said.
 
 
 
   "Ma'am, you can get into serious trouble lying to an officer of the
 
   law, " Deputy Cobb called out. His friend Spencer nodded his
 
   agreement.
 
 
 
   "You could go to jail for that offense, " Spencer added.
 
 
 
   "What does it matter? " Rebecca asked. "I'm already in trouble. I'm
 
   going to be hunted by those criminals, and it will be a miracle if I
 
   survive. I don't understand why they haven't tried yet. What are they
 
   waiting for? Why haven't they tried to silence me? " "They've been
 
   busy, that's why." Daniel answered her question from the doorway.
 
 
 
   He came down the stairs and handed Cooper a telegram. "Another bank's
 
   been robbed, " he said. "Sixty miles southeast of here." Cooper
 
   swore. "Was it clean? " Daniel looked grim. "No."
 
 
 
   "What did you mean when you asked Daniel if it was clean? " Rebecca
 
   asked.
 
 
 
   Daniel turned to answer her. "He was asking me if there were any
 
   carualties." Rebecca paled. "How many were killed? " "Three men, "
 
   Daniel answered. "All of them were employees of the bank."
 
 
 
   "Those poor men, " she whispered.
 
 
 
   Daniel had motioned to Cooper to follow him to the corner of the
 
   garden. In a low voice he said, "There was something different about
 
   this one."
 
 
 
   "What? " Cooper asked.
 
 
 
   "Every desk inside the bank was overturned, and a copy of the Rockford
 
   Gazette was nailed to the wall. There was blood all over it. "
 
   "They're telling us they know we have a witness. 2^ Daniel nodded.
 
 
 
   "Let's get the hell out of here." raveling with a toddler wasn't
 
   difficult, it was a nightmare. The baby didn't know how to be quiet.
 
 
 
   Most of what he said didn't make any sense, but he still expected and
 
   demanded an answer anyway, and Cole was pretty certain he chattered
 
   nonstop just to hear the sound of his voice echoing through the
 
   forest.
 
 
 
   His favorite word was still no. He whispered it, shouted it, whined
 
   it, and sang it, and by the time they stopped for the night, Cole was
 
   sure he'd said the word at least two hundred times.
 
 
 
   It was almost sunset when they finally made camp in a secluded area by
 
   a small horseshoe-shaped lake. Jagged rock ledges, some as high as
 
   fifty feet, jutted out over the water in spots and offered protection
 
   from the rain and wind. More important, no one could sneak up on them
 
   during the night. There was only one way into camp, and that was on
 
   the path that bordered one side of the lake.
 
 
 
   While Cole saw to the horses, Jessica fed Caleb his dinner. The baby
 
   was far more interested in exploring his surroundings than eating, and
 
   it took considerable coaxing by his mother to get him to cooperate.
 
 
 
   Cole wasn't worried about all the noise Caleb was making, because he
 
   knew they weren't being followed. He'd backtracked twice just to make
 
   certain. The baby needed to run and play. He had been forced to sit
 
   still on his mother's lap for most of the day, but he seemed to be
 
   making up for lost time now. Full of vitality, he raced in circles
 
   from one end of the clearing to the other, chattering away a mile a
 
   minute.
 
 
 
   Every once in a while he would burst into laughter over what Cole
 
   decided must have been a private joke only a toddler could
 
   appreciate.
 
 
 
   His shoulders would shake with merriment.
 
 
 
   The kid was a charmer, even when he was having a fullblown tantrum
 
   because Jessica wouldn't let him go into the water. All her energies
 
   were spent trying to turn his attention, but for some reason, when Cole
 
   told Caleb to do something, he did it. He told him to sit, and the
 
   baby promptly did just that. Caleb had already taken off his shoes and
 
   socks and sat perched on top of one of the saddles under the overhang,
 
   watching Cole brush the horses. His undershirt had ridden up to the
 
   top of his belly, his nappy had slid to the tilt of his hips, and he
 
   looked about as happy as a baby could be.
 
 
 
   His mother, on the other hand, looked like hell. She was clearly
 
   exhausted. She reminded him of his little sister's rag doll after it
 
   had been left out in the rain and the slm too long. Her hair hung in
 
   clumps, her white blouse was covered with dust and the strawberry jam
 
   Caleb had smeared on it while eating his biscuit, and there were
 
   smudges all over her cheeks. He still thought she looked too damned
 
   sexy for her own good . . . and his peace of mind.
 
 
 
   Jessica was too tired to eat, until he convinced her she needed the
 
   nourishment. He coaxed her in much the same way she'd coaxed her son,
 
   but he was smart enough not to mention that fact to her. In her
 
   present state of mind, she wouldn't be amused.
 
 
 
   He was starving and ate two helpings of the ham, beans, biscuits, and
 
   sugar cookies. He kept his eye on her while he ate.
 
 
 
   She was definitely in a mood tonight if her frowns were any
 
   indication.
 
 
 
   After suffering her stony silence for several minutes, he gave up and
 
   asked her to tell him what was wrong.
 
 
 
   "Why didn't you tell me we would be camping out tonight? You should
 
   have warned me."
 
 
 
   "Would you have done anything different if I had told you? " She
 
   started to nod, then stopped. "I don't know, but I would have insisted
 
   that you select a safer spot, " she said.
 
 
 
   "This is about as safe as I could find, " he replied. "No one can get
 
   to us from behind, and I can hear anyone coming down the path."
 
 
 
   "That isn't what I mean, " she said. "And now you've started a fire.
 
 
 
   I can't be in three places at once." He wasn't sure what she was riled
 
   up about. He leaned back against the rock and stared at her. "We'll
 
   need the fire later, " he said. "It's going to get cold in the middle
 
   of the night. It always does up here in the mountains." She threaded
 
   her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes. "Did you have to set
 
   up camp next to a lake? " "The horses need water, Jessie, and so do
 
   we, } he reasoned.
 
 
 
   She didn't care if his explanation was logical or not. "Don't you
 
   realize the enticement the water is for Caleb? I won't sleep a wink
 
   tonight, worrying about him. What if he wakes up and wanders away? He
 
   could get lost in the forest, or drown, or step on a snake . . . "
 
   "Jessica, calm down. I'm not going to let anything happen to him. "
 
   She acted as though he hadn't said a word. "He could fall in the fire
 
   or step on a hot ember, " she continued. "What were you thinking? "
 
   Although he did understand her concerns, he was a little insulted that
 
   she didn't trust him to look after her and her son. "I'm not going to
 
   let him get burned, drowned, bitten, or lost."
 
 
 
   "I'm still going to worry, " she whispered. She glanced over at Caleb
 
   to make sure he was all right, saw that he was digging in the dirt with
 
   a stick he'd found, and turned back to the lake. In the fading light,
 
   the water appeared to be on fire. The burnished orange sheen was a
 
   lovely sight.
 
 
 
   "You know what I think? " Cole said, drawing her back to the
 
   conversation.
 
 
 
   "No, what? " she asked on a weary sigh.
 
 
 
   "You need a bath." She turned back to him. "Excuse me? " "I said you
 
   need a bath. Take your clothes off and go swimming. It'll be good for
 
   you. You're hot and tired, and the water will make you feel better.
 
 
 
   Go ahead. I'll take Caleb in with me. I'll keep my back turned if
 
   you're worried about your modesty, but out here folks have to be
 
   practical." She glanced back over her shoulder at the lake. "I'm not
 
   worried about modesty. I know you wouldn't take advantage of our
 
   circumstances. You can't." If she hadn't added the last comment, he
 
   would have taken what she had said as a compliment, for in his mind,
 
   she had just admitted that she trusted him.
 
 
 
   "I can't? " he repeated, his curiosity piqued. "Why can't I? " "Why
 
   can't you take advantage of our situation? " "Yes." Her smile was
 
   heart-stopping. The woman was something else all right, and he
 
   realized then how difficult it was becoming for him to keep his hands
 
   off her.
 
 
 
   "Because you're a United States marshal, " she patiently reminded
 
   him.
 
 
 
   "And that means? " he prodded.
 
 
 
   "It means you've taken an oath. You're here to protect me, not . .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   " She was going to say the word "dally, " then changed her mind. ".
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   . you know." He couldn't make up his mind if he wanted to laugh or
 
   groan. He gritted his teeth in frustration, for he finally understood
 
   what she was telling him. He decided to set her straight.
 
 
 
   "Jessica, contrary to what you might imagine, marshals aren't neutered
 
   when they're sworn in. Giving up sex isn't part of the job
 
   description." Her eyes widened. "Are you saying . . . " "Damned
 
   right I am." He expected her to blush or at the very least try to
 
   change the subject. She shrugged instead. "I'm not going to worry, 2
 
   she announced.
 
 
 
   She stared at the lake a long minute before nervously adding, "Should
 
   I? " The longer he thought about the conversation and her bizarre
 
   opinions, the more exasperated he became. "I'll tell you when you
 
   should worry.
 
 
 
   All right? " She laughed. "Yes, all right."
 
 
 
   "Do you want to go swimming or not? " he asked. "Caleb, quit throwing
 
   dirt and come here." The baby dropped his stick and came running.
 
 
 
   Cole sat him on his lap and took his undershirt off.
 
 
 
   "Is the water deep? " Jessica asked.
 
 
 
   "I don't know, " Cole answered as he unfastened the ties holding
 
   Caleb's nappy secure. "It probably is in the middle. Why? Can't you
 
   swim? " "Not very well, " she admitted. "I haven't had much
 
   practice.
 
 
 
   " "Didn't you go swimming when you were a little girl? " She shook her
 
   head. "There wasn't time for such frivolity." Cole looked at her.
 
 
 
   "Why wasn't there time? " "I was busy." He could tell from her tone
 
   of voice she didn't want to talk about growing up. If he'd been a
 
   sensitive man, he might have heeded the unspoken suggestion and changed
 
   the subject. Sensitivity wasn't one of his attributes, however.
 
 
 
   "Doing what? " he asked.
 
 
 
   She sighed. "I helped my mother in the shop where she worked . . . a
 
   lady's dress shop, " she qualified. "When I was younger, I stayed with
 
   neighbors or helped at school. There wasn't much time to play."
 
 
 
   "It was just the two of you, wasn't it? Your father left."
 
 
 
   "Yes, he left."
 
 
 
   "Do you know where he is? " "I heard that he died, but I don't know if
 
   that's true or not. Are you taking Caleb in the water now? " "Yes."
 
 
 
   "You'll hold him tight? " she asked. "He's slippery when he's wet."
 
 
 
   Cole pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Then he
 
   removed his gunbelt and stood up. She hastily turned her attention to
 
   the lake, but not before she noticed how muscled his chest and upper
 
   arms were. His skin was deeply tanned, indicating he had spent long
 
   hours in the sun bare-chested. There was a mat of dark blond hair
 
   trailing down to his belly button, and, God, she really shouldn't have
 
   been looking. Cole was a handsome man. She would have had to be blind
 
   not to notice his steely blue eyes, but what made him most attractive
 
   to her was his behavior toward her son. He had the patience of Job.
 
 
 
   He was gentle and soft-spoken with Caleb, and nothing the little one
 
   did seemed to bother him.
 
 
 
   He'd make a wonderful father. She pushed the thought aside the second
 
   it popped into her mind. She didn't need him or any other man, she
 
   reminded herself. She and Caleb were doing just fine the way they
 
   were.
 
 
 
   "I wish I had been able to talk to Grace before we left. I promised to
 
   help her find a ranch. She offered me a job, and it would have been an
 
   ideal setting to raise my son. He'd have room to run."
 
 
 
   "What could you do on a ranch? " Her spine stiffened. "I could do
 
   lots of things.
 
 
 
   I've never been afraid of hard work, " she added.
 
 
 
   "You don't need to get mad. I wasn't insulting you or challenging
 
   you.
 
 
 
   I was simply curious."
 
 
 
   "Grace should know what's going on. I would have told her to go ahead
 
   and leave without Caleb and me and that we'd catch up with her in
 
   Denver. She's under tremendous pressure, and time's running out for
 
   her." Cole didn't understand, but Jessica refused to explain. "If
 
   Grace wants you to know her personal business, she'll tell you.
 
 
 
   I should have taken my belongings out of the wagon. I hope Grace
 
   doesn't feel she has to look after them."
 
 
 
   "Quit worrying, " he ordered. "She'll be fine, and you'll be seeing
 
   her real soon." Her attention was turned when Caleb threw himself into
 
   her arms. He wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, and he was rank.
 
 
 
   "I'll get the soap, " she said.
 
 
 
   "Jessie? " "Yes? " she answered as she eased the baby off her lap.
 
 
 
   "You might want to close your eyes for a minute." She didn't ask
 
   why.
 
 
 
   She simply squeezed her eyes shut. Curiosity got the better of her,
 
   though, and she finally had to know. "You didn't take all of your
 
   clothes off, did you? " "Sure did, " he answered cheerfully. "Caleb
 
   and I are buck naked." She wanted to look. She convinced herself that
 
   she was merely curious because she'd never seen a naked man before.
 
 
 
   She really ought to, shouldn't she, since she was a mother?
 
 
 
   She peeked, but with only one eye. She was disappointed because she'd
 
   waited too long. All she saw was Cole's backside and thighs as he
 
   moved into the water. She found it quite odd that every inch of his
 
   back was also tanned. What did the man do? Work outside naked? The
 
   possibility was so ludicrous, she smiled.
 
 
 
   Caleb had his arms wrapped around Cole's neck and was happily
 
   chattering into his ear. He didn't look at all scared, and Jessica
 
   suddenly yearned to be in the water with both of them.
 
 
 
   She went to fetch the soap instead. As she was searching through the
 
   valise, she heard a loud splash, promptly followed by the baby's squeal
 
   of delight. Nothing seemed to frighten Caleb, which meant that he was
 
   feeling secure, she hoped.
 
 
 
   "So far so good, " she whispered. Caleb hadn't been harmed by her lack
 
   of skills as a mother. Each day she learned a little bit more, and
 
   hopefully, by the time he was five or six, she'd be comfortable in the
 
   role she'd taken on. She would always worry, she supposed, but then
 
   didn't all mothers? She wanted to do the right thing for her son so
 
   that he would grow up with fond memories and a strong sense of
 
   self-worth. Unlike the other men in her life, Caleb would have
 
   values.
 
 
 
   "Jessie, bring the soap." She jumped at the sound of Cole's voice.
 
 
 
   Grabbing the misshapen clump of rose-scented soap she'd made, she
 
   hurried to the edge of the bank.
 
 
 
   "Should I throw it? " {Sure, " he called back.
 
 
 
   She aimed but missed by a good ten feet. Cole was able to retrieve the
 
   soap before it sank to the bottom. "You throw like a girl, " he
 
   shouted.
 
 
 
   "I am a girl, " she called back as she kicked off her shoes and sat
 
   down on the grassy slope.
 
 
 
   She also took her stockings off, but that was as far as she would go
 
   while Cole was in the lake. It wouldn't have been proper for her to do
 
   what she wanted to do. Mothers couldn't be wanton. And so she watched
 
   him scrub her son from top to bottom and then play with him, wishing
 
   all the while she were part of the antics.
 
 
 
   Her heart fell to the bottom of her stomach when Cole casually tossed
 
   Caleb into the air and let him go under the water. Before she could
 
   shout a warning, Cole had scooped him up, waited until he'd stopped
 
   sputtering, and then tossed him in the air again.
 
 
 
   Caleb was having the time of his life and hopefully getting all worn
 
   out. Jessica sat on the bank with her toes in the cool water until it
 
   was almost completely dark. The temperature was rapidly dropping. She
 
   fetched a towel for Caleb and waited until Cole swam over to give her
 
   son to her.
 
 
 
   The baby's lower lip was trembling from the cold, but he still put up a
 
   fight when she lifted him out of the water. He wanted to go back in.
 
 
 
   Jessica carried him back to the fire and quickly got him ready for
 
   bed.
 
 
 
   She'd already spread a blanket out and placed his baby doll in the
 
   center, and as soon as she put him down, he grabbed the toy, put his
 
   thumb in his mouth, and closed his eyes.
 
 
 
   "I'll watch him if you want to get in the water, Jessie, " Cole said
 
   from behind.
 
 
 
   "Thank you, " she whispered.
 
 
 
   There was laughter in his voice when he told her she could look at
 
   him.
 
 
 
   "I'm dressed." Barely, she thought to herself. He was wearing only a
 
   pair of snug-fitting buckskin pants. His hair was slicked back from
 
   his brow, and droplets of water glistened on his arms and chest.
 
 
 
   A bath did sound wonderful. She waited until Caleb had drifted off to
 
   sleep, then gathered clean clothes, soap, and a towel. She walked a
 
   good distance away from the campsite so that Cole wouldn't see her,
 
   draped her garments on a fat, leafy bush, and slowly removed her
 
   clothes. Every muscle in her neck and shoulders ached, and she was
 
   suddenly so tired, she could barely concentrate on what she was
 
   doing.
 
 
 
   The water felt luxurious against her bare skin. She sighed deeply as
 
   she cautiously moved further into the lake, feeling her way with her
 
   toes to make certain the rocky bottom wasn't going to disappear.
 
 
 
   It was sheer heaven. She didn't even mind the cold, but by the time
 
   she had scrubbed herself and washed her hair, her fingertips were as
 
   wrinkled as prunes.
 
 
 
   It would have been nice to slip into her nightgown, but that would have
 
   been inappropriate with Cole there, of course, and so she put on a
 
   clean chemise and a dark gray dress that was at least two sizes too big
 
   for her. Like most of her other clothes, the gown was a
 
   hand-me-down.
 
 
 
   Jessica hadn't had time to take it in because she was always too tired
 
   in the evening after spending her days chasing after Caleb. As she
 
   slipped the dress over her head, she vowed once again to become more
 
   organized and headed back to camp.
 
 
 
   Caleb was sound asleep with his back squeezed up against Cole's side.
 
 
 
   She thought Cole was also asleep. He was resting on his back and using
 
   one of the saddles for his pillow.
 
 
 
   She sat across the campfire from him. Kicking her shoes off and
 
   tucking her feet under her, she proceeded to brush the tangles out of
 
   her hair.
 
 
 
   She loved this time of night, wheneverything was so peaceful and she
 
   had a few minutes to herself. She knew she should go to sleep, for
 
   tomorrow promised to be as exhausting as today, but she was enjoying
 
   the solitude too much to do the practical thing. The heat from the
 
   fire warmed her face. She tilted her head to the side so that her hair
 
   was draped down past her shoulder and leaned close to the flames.
 
 
 
   "You're going to catch on fire, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   She jerked back. "I thought you were asleep, " she whispered so that
 
   Caleb wouldn't be disturbed.
 
 
 
   "You don't have to whisper. Your son's out cold. Nothing's going to
 
   disturb him."
 
 
 
   "He's put in a long day, " she said, a smile in her voice.
 
 
 
   A few minutes passed in silence, and then he spoke again. "You're a
 
   good mother, Jessica." She put her brush down. "No, I'm not, but I'm
 
   trying, " she said. "I had never been around babies when I was growing
 
   up, and I know I've made mistakes with Caleb. I'm more relaxed with
 
   him now, and hopefully I haven't done anything that's going to
 
   permanently damage him. I've spoiled him, though, but I don't care.
 
 
 
   Babies should be spoiled."
 
 
 
   "The boy needs a father, " he said. "Are you going to find him one? "
 
   Her answer was quick and forceful. "No, I'm not. Caleb had a
 
   father.
 
 
 
   He deserted him, remember? " "Like your father deserted you? " She
 
   didn't answer the question. "I'm never going to get married. It would
 
   be too much of a complication."
 
 
 
   "Do you have any idea how difficult it's going to be raising Caleib on
 
   your own? " "We'll get along." Cole stared into the fire for a long
 
   while, thinking about Jessica's circumstances. She was too young to
 
   hold such opinions about men and marriage. "Not all men leave. "
 
   "Most do."
 
 
 
   "No, most do not, " he argued. "You've got guts, I'll give you that,
 
   but you have to be practical. You're a fine-looking woman, and men are
 
   going to want you." You were made for loving, he thought, but didn't
 
   add. He didn't want to give her the false impression that he was
 
   interested. Granted, he was interested in making love to her and knew
 
   it would be a night he would never forget, but he wasn't interested in
 
   marriage.
 
 
 
   "What makes you think I need help raising Caleb? " she asked.
 
 
 
   He ignored her question. "I like the color of your hair." The
 
   compliment startled her. "You do? Most men don't like brown hair. "
 
   "Where did you get that crazy notion? When a man first notices a
 
   woman, he isn't looking at her hair anyway."
 
 
 
   "Then what's he looking at? " Cole smiled. "The whole package. We
 
   take in every curve from the neck down." She blushed and had to keep
 
   herself from laughing.
 
 
 
   "You shouldn't be talking like this."
 
 
 
   "Like what? I simply answered your question. Your hair isn't brown,
 
   by the way. It's cinnamon." She didn't like being the focus of his
 
   attention. It was wrong of him to try to fill her head with sugared
 
   remarks that weren't true. She wasn't a fine-looking woman, as he'd
 
   declared. She was a plain, sensible one.
 
 
 
   "Why haven't you married? " she asked.
 
 
 
   "I never wanted to, " he replied. "Besides, in my line of work,
 
   marriage is out of the question."
 
 
 
   "But why haven't you wanted to? " she prodded.
 
 
 
   "I don't like the idea of being tied down. I don't want any strings.
 
 
 
   " She nodded agreement. "I understand. I don't want any either. "
 
   "You're too young to be set in your ways."
 
 
 
   "Are you trying to tell me I'm cynical? I am, you know."
 
 
 
   "The right man will change your mind.
 
 
 
   " "The right woman might change yours, " she countered.
 
 
 
   He stared at her for several seconds, then turned his gaze to the
 
   fire.
 
 
 
   There was a brooding expression on his face that puzzled her, and she
 
   wondered what he was thinking about now.
 
 
 
   She got up and put her brush away, dug through her valise for one of
 
   her ribbons, and then went to sit on the blanket next to Caleb.
 
 
 
   "I've decided I'm going to tie my son's wrist to mine. If he tries to
 
   get up, he'll wake me."
 
 
 
   "Jessie, that isn't necessary. I'll hear him." She wasn't willing to
 
   take the chance. She looped the yellow ribbon around Caleb's left
 
   wrist and secured it to hers. Then she lay down and closed her eyes.
 
 
 
   "I won't sleep a wink worrying about him." She was sound asleep less
 
   than a minute later. Cole added some twigs to the fire, then reached
 
   over and untied the ribbon from Caleb's wrist.
 
 
 
   Jessica had left a long strip of ribbon between them so that Caleb
 
   could move, but Cole was concerned that in his sleep the baby would get
 
   the ribbon around his neck. He wasn't about to take the chance.
 
 
 
   Besides, he would hear the baby if he stirred. When Cole was away from
 
   home, he never slept straight through the night, and he always heard
 
   every little sound.
 
 
 
   Jessica sighed in her sleep and rolled on her side, facing him. He
 
   stared at her lovely face, knowing in his heart that if ever there was
 
   a right woman for him, Jessie was the one, and that realization made
 
   him angry.
 
 
 
   It could get complicated, and he hated complications.
 
 
 
   He stretched out on his back again, closed his eyes, and let the cool
 
   night air soothe the fire inside him while he reminded himself of his
 
   basic philosophy of life.
 
 
 
   No strings.
 
 
 
   t_) heriff Tom Norton and his wife, Josey, lived in a two-story gray
 
   clapboard house on Grant Lane, just two blocks east of Middleton's town
 
   square, where Tom's jail was located. Three stone steps led up to the
 
   front door, and there were recently painted black wicker chairs on the
 
   porch. Two large black flower pots filled with pink and red summer
 
   flowers flanked the top step. Tendrils of ivy trailed down the
 
   sides.
 
 
 
   The house, though small, was charming.
 
 
 
   It was dark out, but Cole still insisted on going around to the back
 
   door. He carried Caleb in one arm and half dragged Jessica with his
 
   free hand.
 
 
 
   "I'm sure they've gone up to bed. It's late."
 
 
 
   "It isn't that late, " he argued. "And they wouldn't have left all the
 
   lights on if they'd gone to bed. Come on, Jessie. We have to do
 
   this." She pulled on his arm as he tried to lead her forward on the
 
   cobblestone path.
 
 
 
   "If I don't like these people, I'm not leaving Caleb with them.
 
 
 
   Agreed? " He held on to his patience. "We've been over this. I
 
   agreed two hours ago, remember? " "I just didn't want you to forget.
 
 
 
   " He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "It's going to be
 
   all right, just like I promised." He was just about to knock on the
 
   back door when she asked him to wait a moment. Then she reached up and
 
   threaded her fingers like a comb through Caleb's hair. The baby
 
   promptly dodged her hand.
 
 
 
   "You ready? " She took a deep breath. "Yes, " she answered. "I hope
 
   we aren't disturbing them. It's late, " she stubbornly added once
 
   again.
 
 
 
   The Nortons were thrilled to have company and weren't at all put out.
 
 
 
   Josey had just finished the supper dishes when Cole knocked on her back
 
   door, and Tom Norton was still sitting at the table, having his second
 
   cup of coffee.
 
 
 
   Cole had to gently nudge Jessica to go inside as he followed with Caleb
 
   into the brightly painted kitchen.
 
 
 
   Josey was already making over the baby, who was overcome with a sudden
 
   bout of shyness and tucked his face into the crook of Cole's neck.
 
 
 
   "My, he's a handsome boy, and just look at those curls, Tom. I didn't
 
   know you had a family, Cole, and this pretty lady must be your wife.
 
 
 
   It's right nice to make your acquaintance, " she added.
 
 
 
   "I'm not his wife, " Jessica explained. "But this is my son. His name
 
   is Caleb." Tom Norton stepped forward to shake Cole's hand, then
 
   pulled out a chair for him and one for Jessica.
 
 
 
   "Sit down and tell us what in thunderation you're doing back in
 
   Middleton. You don't think there's going to be another robbery, do
 
   you? " "No, " Cole answered as he sat down and perched Caleb on his
 
   lap. "We came here to talk to you."
 
 
 
   "Is that right? " Tom asked.
 
 
 
   "I was just thinking about you the other day. Yes, sir, I was. I see
 
   you're still wearing the star. Have you taken to the notion of being a
 
   marshal then? " "For the time being, " Cole answered. He thanked
 
   Josey for the cup of coffee she placed on the table in front of him,
 
   and then turned back to Tom.
 
 
 
   "I haven't been a marshal long enough to know if I like the job or
 
   not.
 
 
 
   " After making the comment, he glanced at Jessica. She was watching
 
   Josey closely and seemed to be weighing every move the older woman
 
   made.
 
 
 
   Caleb reached for the hot coffee. Before either Jessica or Cole could
 
   react, Josey moved the cup out of his reach.
 
 
 
   "Can the little imp have a cookie? I just made some fresh. They've
 
   got nuts in them, though, and some babies don't like nuts. What about
 
   some ilk? I've got plenty."
 
 
 
   "I'm sure he'd like some milk and a cookie, " Jessica answered. "But
 
   he'll make a mess. Will you mind? " "No, of course not. He's too
 
   young not to be messy, " she added.
 
 
 
   "Have you folks had your supper yet? I could fry upţ" "No, we've
 
   eaten, " Cole hastily interjected. "But thanks for offering.
 
 
 
   "I'm not at all hungry, thank you, " Jessica answered.
 
 
 
   "Tom, could I have a word alone with you for a minute? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   The sheriff led the way into the living room. Caleb was still a little
 
   suspicious of his strange surroundings and wouldn't let go of Cole. He
 
   handed him to Jessica, winked at her, and then left the room.
 
 
 
   Jessica wrapped her arms around her baby and held him protectively
 
   against her. The kitchen was clean. She noticed there wasn't a speck
 
   of dirt anywhere. Josey was obviously a good housekeeper, but if she
 
   and Tom agreed to look after Caleb, would she be able to keep up with
 
   him?
 
 
 
   And would she be patient?
 
 
 
   She wished there were more time for her to find out everything she
 
   needed to know. She was relying on Cole's judgment, but he was a man
 
   and he wouldn't have the concerns a mother had. He trusted the
 
   Nortons. She didn't, at least not yet, and she wasn't going to leave
 
   an innocent baby in the hands of fiends.
 
 
 
   They weren't monsters, though. The kindness in Josey's eyes told her
 
   she loved babies. She'd already taken to Caleb, and he was quickly
 
   warming up to her. Granted, his thumb was still in his mouth, but he
 
   was smiling at her.
 
 
 
   What did he know? He was just a toddler. It was up to her to make
 
   certain he was well cared for, and, oh, God, how could she leave him
 
   with anyone? No one could love him the way she did.
 
 
 
   Josey put a plate of cookies on the table. She poured two glasses of
 
   milk, the taller one for Jessica and the smaller one for Caleb, then
 
   sat down across from her and let out a loud sigh.
 
 
 
   "It sure was hot today, wasn't it? " "Yes, it was, " Jessica agreed.
 
 
 
   She smiled at Josey and tightened her hold on Caleb when he tried to
 
   scoot off her lap. "You have a lovely home."
 
 
 
   "You've only seen the kitchen, " Josey said with a chuckle.
 
 
 
   "Do you have children? " "No, we don't. We always wanted a large
 
   family, but we just weren't blessed. I've taken care of a bushel of
 
   nieces and nephews, and I sure do know my way around babies, but I've
 
   got a longing in my heart to raise some of my own."
 
 
 
   "You could still have children. How old are you? " It was a bold
 
   question, but Josey didn't seem to mind. "I'm too old to start having
 
   babies. Why, I'm going to be forty-seven next month. It seems kind of
 
   odd for you to be asking me such a question."
 
 
 
   "It was rude, " Jessica said. "And I apologize if I seem a bit
 
   abrupt.
 
 
 
   It's just that there's so little time to decide, and I . . . " She
 
   couldn't go on. She'd start crying if she tried to explain. She took
 
   several deep breaths in an effort to control her emotions before she
 
   started questioning Josey once again.
 
 
 
   Josey was watching her closely. She noticed how pale Jessica was and
 
   how sad her eyes looked. She wanted to ask her if she was in trouble
 
   and if so, if there was anything that she and Tom could do to help, but
 
   Jessica spoke before she could get the words out.
 
 
 
   "Do you consider yourself patient? " "I beg your pardon? " "Are you
 
   patient? " "Tom seems to think I am, " she answered.
 
 
 
   "What do you do when you get angry? " Josey leaned back in her
 
   chair.
 
 
 
   She was thoroughly perplexed by her guest's peculiar questions.
 
 
 
   "I clean."
 
 
 
   "I'm sorry? " Jessica asked, not understanding.
 
 
 
   "I clean, " Josey repeated. "When I get into a lather about something
 
   or other, I scrub my floors and wash my walls and do whatever else I
 
   need to do until I've gotten rid of my anger. Then I talk it out with
 
   Tom.
 
 
 
   Are you going to tell me why you're asking me these questions? " Tears
 
   sprang into Jessica's eyes. "Yes, I'll explain just as soon as Cole
 
   finishes talking to your husband. Do you keep lye under your
 
   counter?
 
 
 
   " "Do I what? " "Keep lye under your counter."
 
 
 
   "Good heavens, no, " Josey answered. "Like I told you before, I'm used
 
   to watching my nieces and nephews. A couple of them are about your
 
   baby's age. They can walk and get into mischief, but they don't have a
 
   lick of sense yet. Lye could kill them, so I keep it up where they
 
   can't get to it.
 
 
 
   You're in trouble, aren't you, Jessica? " "Yes, " she whispered. "I'm
 
   sorry I've been so. . . suspicious, but I needed to know."
 
 
 
   "Know what? " Josey asked.
 
 
 
   "Cole will explain, " she replied. "But I promise I won't hound you
 
   with any more questions." Josey reached over to pat Jessica's hand.
 
 
 
   "You're with a good, strong man to help you through this trouble. "
 
   "Cole's a marshal and he's part of my problem. If it weren't for him,
 
   I wouldn't be on my way to Texas." Josey's frown deepened. "I guess
 
   I'm just gonna have to wait until Tom tells me what's going on, then.
 
 
 
   That baby's been trying to get to his cookie for a good five minutes
 
   now, " she added, deliberately changing the subject because Jessica
 
   looked on the verge of tears again. "Why don't you lessen your grip on
 
   him and let him have one. Can he drink out of a glass yet? " Jessica
 
   turned her attention to her son. She moved the glass toward him and
 
   told him to show Josey how he could manage a glass. She was bragging
 
   about his ability when he spilled the milk.
 
 
 
   Josey chuckled. "It's usually my Tom who does that, " she commented.
 
 
 
   She mopped up the milk with a dishcloth and then held Jessica's glass
 
   while Caleb took a drink.
 
 
 
   Caleb was finally ready to get down and explore the kitchen. Jessica
 
   followed him and held the drawers closed so he couldn't empty them.
 
 
 
   "Sit back down and let him play, " Josey suggested.
 
 
 
   "He'll destroy your kitchen, " she warned. "Caleb's a very curious
 
   child." Josey opened the doors under the counters. "My nieces and
 
   nephews like to play with my pots and pans. That's the way, " she said
 
   when Caleb squatted down and reached for one of the wooden spoons.
 
 
 
   Jessica sat down next to Josey once again, and while they got to know
 
   one another, Caleb made a fine mess banging on the pots and pans.
 
 
 
   Within ten minutes he had warmed up to Josey enough to let her pick him
 
   up and kiss him.
 
 
 
   Cole and Tom came back into the kitchen then, and Cole gave Jessica a
 
   quick nod.
 
 
 
   "Josey, you and I are going to be keeping this little boy a spell, "
 
   Tom announced.
 
 
 
   Josey patted the baby and looked at Jessica. "No wonder you were
 
   asking those questions. I'll be proud to watch him for you, " she
 
   added. "And Tom and I won't let anything happen to him."
 
 
 
   "Jessica's a witness, and she's got to go to Texas to testify, " Tom
 
   said. "Cole doesn't think it's a good idea to take the baby with
 
   them."
 
 
 
   "When do you think you'll be back? " Josey asked Cole.
 
 
 
   "I don't know, " he answered. "Maybe two weeks . . . or longer. "
 
   "He won't remember me." Every one turned to Jessica.
 
 
 
   "Of course he'll remember you, " Josey said. "We won't let him
 
   forget.
 
 
 
   " Tom suggested Jessica and Cole spend the night with them so that the
 
   adjustment for Caleb would be easier on him. Jessica let Josey bathe
 
   Caleb but hovered over her like a mother hen. Josey did know her way
 
   around babies. She filled a basin in the sink and let Caleb splash
 
   water everywhere while she lathered him up.
 
 
 
   "You're very good with him, " Jessica told her.
 
 
 
   She followed Josey up the stairs to the guest room. Caleb, wrapped in
 
   a thick towel, was peeking at his mother over Josey's shoulder.
 
 
 
   "He always sleeps with a rag doll. It's in his valise, " Jessica
 
   said.
 
 
 
   "Oh, and he hates carrots. He'll spit them out if you try to force
 
   them on him."
 
 
 
   "I wouldn't do that, " Josey said. "I hate carrots too. I know you're
 
   gonna worry, no matter what assurances I give you, but I promise you
 
   I'm gonna love this boy like he was my own. Why don't you go on
 
   downstairs for a bit and let Caleb get used to me.
 
 
 
   I'll call out if I need help."
 
 
 
   "Yes, that's a good idea, " Jessica said. It was also a test. Putting
 
   Caleb to bed required stamina and patience. Every once in a while, if
 
   he was overly tired, Caleb would throw a tantrum. The baby was all
 
   wound up now, and that was a sure indication that trouble was coming.
 
 
 
   Jessica left the valise on the bed and closed the door behind her.
 
 
 
   When she came downstairs, she found Cole in the living room standing by
 
   the window, looking out. She glared at him before turning her back on
 
   him.
 
 
 
   "What was that all about? " She began to pace. "This is all your
 
   fault, " she whispered. "Can't you see that this is breaking my
 
   heart?
 
 
 
   " He started toward her, but she put her hand out to keep him at bay.
 
 
 
   "I can't leave him. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. He'll be
 
   lost without me, and he'll be afraid and he'll be miserable and . .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   " As if to mock her, Caleb's peal of laughter echoed down the stairs.
 
 
 
   Cole shook his head. "He sure doesn't sound miserable."
 
 
 
   "I'm not going to go through with this. My mind's made up, " she
 
   whispered.
 
 
 
   She turned to go back up the stairs, but Cole grabbed hold of her hand
 
   and pulled her up against him.
 
 
 
   "Tom? " he called out. "Jessica and I are going for a walk." The way
 
   he was squeezing her hand told her not to argue. She let him drag her
 
   out the back door and into the yard. He didn't stop pulling her along
 
   until he reached a cluster of trees that shielded them from the street
 
   and gave them privacy.
 
 
 
   "Now you listen to meţ" he began.
 
 
 
   She cut him off. "Don't you dare take that tone of voice with me. I
 
   will not leave my baby with strangers. I'm sorry, Cole, but that's the
 
   way it's going to be." She tried to jerk her hand away, but he
 
   tightened his hold and pulled her close until she was pressed against
 
   his chest. His face was inches away from hers. He was going to give
 
   her a hard lecture because she was being so stubborn, but then he saw
 
   her tears and relented. Now wasn't the time to lecture.
 
 
 
   "I know how hard this is . . . " "No, you don't know. You aren't a
 
   mother."
 
 
 
   "No, I'm not, " he agreed. "You're going to have to be sensible. I
 
   know Tom Norton, and I'm telling you he's trustworthy.
 
 
 
   When Luke MacFarland and his wife were killed, Tom and Josey wanted to
 
   raise their children."
 
 
 
   "Why didn't they? " "Luke's relatives wouldn't let them. They farmed
 
   the children out among them."
 
 
 
   "They separated brothers? " she whispered.
 
 
 
   "Yes, but Tom tried to keep them all together. I'm telling you he's a
 
   good man. So is his wife. Josey took care of me when I got sick. I
 
   was a stranger to her, but she still nursed me back to health. The
 
   Nortons aren't going to let anything bad happen to your baby. They'll
 
   love him, Jessie, and we can't take Caleb with us. You know that,
 
   don't you? " "I'm not going to go to Texas."
 
 
 
   "Must you be so stubborn about this? It's out of your hands. You have
 
   to go, and Caleb has to stay."
 
 
 
   "I hate this, " she cried out.
 
 
 
   He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "I know you do. "
 
   "I'm beginning to hate you too, Cole Clayborne. This is all your
 
   fault."
 
 
 
   "All right. It's all my fault, " he whispered. His chin dropped down
 
   on top of her head, and he continued to hold her and stroke her back
 
   for several minutes until she had calmed down. He couldn't help but
 
   notice how good she felt in his arms.
 
 
 
   She couldn't stop thinking about the danger Caleb had been in when that
 
   monster had killed her guard. Her son could have been killed too.
 
 
 
   The Nortons would keep him safe. In her heart she knew that to be
 
   true.
 
 
 
   She suddenly pulled away- from Cole. "None of this is your fault.
 
 
 
   You're only doing your job. You're right too. Caleb should stay out
 
   of harm's way." She straightened her shoulders, turned around, and
 
   walked back inside.
 
 
 
   Josey was waiting at the kitchen table. She wanted to tell Jessica
 
   that Caleb had gone right to sleep, but when she saw the heartache on
 
   the poor mother's face, she got up and went to her. "I'm going to take
 
   good care of your boy. I promise you, Jessica. Tom and I will treat
 
   him like he was our own son."
 
 
 
   "I want to thank you for agreeing to watch him, and I know I don't have
 
   the right to ask . . . " "You can ask anything you want to ask. If I
 
   can do it, I will."
 
 
 
   "If I don't come back . . . " "Don't talk like that, " Josey
 
   interrupted. "You're coming back, " Cole said from behind.
 
 
 
   Jessica ignored both protests. "If I don't come back, Josey, will you
 
   raise my son? " Josey looked over Jessica's head at Cole. He gave a
 
   quick nod. "Yes, Tom and I will raise him. You've got my word. "
 
   "Thank you, " Jessica said, her voice flat. "I would also like you to
 
   change his name legally so that he won't feel like an outsider. I want
 
   him to belong to a family."
 
 
 
   "Jessica, for God's sake, stop talking like that. Nothing's going to
 
   happen to you."
 
 
 
   "I have to make arrangements just in case. I owe it to Caleb." Josey
 
   understood.
 
 
 
   "We'll make it legal, " she promised. "I give you my word." Jessica
 
   grabbed hold of her hand. "One last promise, Josey, and I'll be able
 
   to go. Please, don't ever leave him." Xaniel was torn between
 
   responsibilities. His primary obligation was to escort Grace to Texas,
 
   and he was doing exactly that, but he also wanted to head over to the
 
   small town of Clarkston, where the latest robbery had occurred, to look
 
   for evidence that might help him in his investigation.
 
 
 
   He couldn't send Cooper to the bank in his place, as he was with
 
   Rebecca, making certain she got to Texas alive and unharmed. The two
 
   of them had left for the depot an hour ago, but not before Cooper had
 
   dispatched his two young and inexperienced deputies to Clarkston to
 
   help the sheriff there. Rebecca had insisted on sending a telegram to
 
   the hotel in Salt Lake City to cancel the reservation she'd made the
 
   day before and to alert her friends that her plans had been changed,
 
   and as soon as she came out of the telegraph office, she was put in a
 
   coach with Cooper and sent on her way.
 
 
 
   Cooper had suggested that he and Rebecca wait until Grace could travel
 
   so that he could take both women with him and Daniel could go to
 
   Clarkston, but Daniel refused. Each of the women believed herself to
 
   be the only one claiming to have witnessed the robbery, and he was
 
   determined to keep all three of them separated on the trip to Red Arrow
 
   because he didn't want them making any more joint plans. Although he
 
   personally believed that Rebecca was the real witnessţshe had given
 
   descriptions and details to prove she had been thereţhe would let the
 
   judge in Blackwater decide for himself which one of the three was
 
   telling the truth.
 
 
 
   He hadn't seen Cole before he left town with Jessica and Caleb. They
 
   had taken off an hour or so after the gunman had tried to kill her.
 
 
 
   Daniel still didn't know the name of the dead man, but he was certain
 
   he was one of the Blackwater gang. Past reports told him that there
 
   were seven men in the gang. One was in jail in Blackwater, another was
 
   dead now, thanks to Cole's expertise, and five were still out there
 
   somewhere . . . waiting for an opportunity, Daniel believed, to
 
   silence all three women.
 
 
 
   There was also another reason he didn't want Cooper to take Grace with
 
   him, but one Daniel would never admit. While he trusted Cooper to do
 
   his job, he didn't want to let Grace out of his sight. In his mind, no
 
   one could protect her as diligently as he could. There was also the
 
   fact that he was drawn to her, and it was his hope that by the time
 
   they reached the stopping point in Red Arrow, he would have gotten over
 
   his bizarre and unexplainable infatuation.
 
 
 
   Daniel stayed in Rockford Falls that night and slept in a chair outside
 
   of Grace's door. He went downstairs early the next morning, but didn't
 
   plan to leave the town until late that afternoon when the coach
 
   arrived.
 
 
 
   Grace had other ideas. Daniel had just returned from the bathhouse,
 
   where he'd washed and changed into clean clothes, and was standing on
 
   the veranda talking to Dr. Lawrence when Grace came down the stairs.
 
 
 
   Dressed in a pale pink skirt and matching blouse, she carried her white
 
   gloves and hat in her hands, and went directly to the manager's desk to
 
   inform him that she was leaving. Sloan trailed behind her, carrying
 
   her valise.
 
 
 
   Daniel didn't like the crowd in the lobby. Folks were checking out of
 
   the hotel, and it was chaotic. He quickly went to Grace's side and
 
   ordered her back upstairs.
 
 
 
   "You can rest until this afternoon when the coach arrives."
 
 
 
   "I don't wish to rest any longer. I feel fine, " she insisted. "Have
 
   you changed your mind about taking me to Texas? " "No."
 
 
 
   "I didn't think so, but I was compelled to ask. We need to talk,
 
   Daniel."
 
 
 
   "Upstairs.
 
 
 
   " "No, not upstairs. Now, right this minute, then I expect you'll take
 
   me off to jail."
 
 
 
   "I'm taking you to Texas, " he whispered as he half dragged her into a
 
   corner.
 
 
 
   "Sheriff Sloan just told me they're holding a man in Blackwater and
 
   they think he's one of the gang. Is that true? " "Yes."
 
 
 
   "Then why didn't you tell me? " she demanded. "I never would have .
 
 
 
   . . " "You never would have what? " "I lied to you, " she cried out.
 
 
 
   "I'm not your witness. I only said that I was to protect Rebecca and
 
   Jessica.
 
 
 
   It was wrong and I'm sorry. Please don't be angry with me. Will I
 
   have to stay in jail long? " "You aren't going to jail, " he
 
   muttered.
 
 
 
   "But I lied to an officer of the law."
 
 
 
   "The three of you have done nothing but lie, " he said. "I honestly
 
   don't know who to believe."
 
 
 
   "I'm telling you the truth now. I wasn't there."
 
 
 
   "At this point I don't care if you were there or not. The judge has
 
   ordered all three of you to Blackwater, and that's where we're going as
 
   soon as the coach arrives."
 
 
 
   "Why are the others going? " "I just explained that Judge Rafferty
 
   wants all of you there."
 
 
 
   "Will he put me in jail for lying?
 
 
 
   " The thought of her behind bars was so outrageous, he lost some of his
 
   anger.
 
 
 
   "You've got bigger things to worry about than jail. Come on. You're
 
   going back upstairs to wait in your room until the coach gets here. "
 
   She shook her head. "If I must go . . . " "You must."
 
 
 
   "I don't want to wait for a coach. Can't we go by horseback? The
 
   sheriff told me it would be quicker because we could take some cut
 
   throughs." He smiled.
 
 
 
   "Shortcuts, " he corrected.
 
 
 
   A stout, elderly woman was pushing her way through the crowd toward
 
   Grace. Daniel noticed her out of the corner of his eye and moved to
 
   put himself in front of Grace.
 
 
 
   "I beg your pardon, " the woman said. "Please get out of my way. I
 
   wish to speak to Lady Winthrop." Grace gave Daniel a little nudge and
 
   stepped forward. "Good morning, " she said.
 
 
 
   The woman made an attempt at a curtsy. "It's an honor to meet you, "
 
   she said. "My name is Winifred Larson, " she added with a blush. "And
 
   I couldn't help but notice your lovely hat. Could you tell me where
 
   you purchased it? I would like to get one just like it. Would you
 
   mind if I looked at it more closely? " Grace smiled and handed the hat
 
   to Winifred. The straw brim was covered in lace and flowers, and there
 
   were two purple plumes feathering up and out on one side.
 
 
 
   "It's exquisite, " Winifred declared. "I must have one just like it.
 
 
 
   I have a purple dress, you see, and it would be lovely with it." A
 
   tall, thin man with a receding hairline came over to join them. She
 
   quickly introduced him. "This is my husband, Lionel, " she said. In a
 
   loud whisper she told her husband to bow to Lady Winthrop.
 
 
 
   "That isn't necessary, " Grace said.
 
 
 
   "Do you mind telling me where you purchased this divine creation? "
 
   Winifred asked again.
 
 
 
   Grace explained. "I purchased the basic straw hat, but I decorated
 
   it.
 
 
 
   " "Then there's not another one in all the world like it? " "I know
 
   where this is headed, " her husband interjected with a chuckle.
 
 
 
   Grace didn't understand. "Excuse me? " "When Winifred gets a notion
 
   she wants something . . . " "May I buy it from you? " Winifred
 
   blurted out. "To own a Lady Winthrop creation would be so thrilling
 
   for me. I simply must have it. How much will you take for it? Will
 
   five dollars do? " Grace was incredulous. She glanced at Daniel to
 
   see how he was reacting and smiled because he looked genuinely
 
   puzzled.
 
 
 
   "Actually, Mrs. Larson, I hadn't considered selling . . . " "If it's
 
   an original, Mother, " Lionel whispered loudly, "you've got to offer
 
   more."
 
 
 
   "Yes, yes, you're right. Ten dollars then. Will that do? " Daniel
 
   decided it was time for him to interfere. Grace's face was turning
 
   pink, and he figured she was embarrassed.
 
 
 
   "I don't think the lady wantsţ" "Sold, " Grace blurted out. "For ten
 
   dollars." Lionel quickly paid her. She tucked the money into her
 
   pocket, told Winifred she hoped she enjoyed the hat, and then bid them
 
   good-bye.
 
 
 
   "Shouldn't we go to the stables now? " she asked Daniel.
 
 
 
   From the glint in her eyes, Daniel knew she was determined to get her
 
   way. "You're in no condition to ride a horse. You should sit inside a
 
   coach and try to rest."
 
 
 
   "I don't need to rest." He still felt compelled to argue with her for
 
   several more minutes before giving in.
 
 
 
   In the back of his mind, he kept thinking that if they took the
 
   shortcuts and didn't follow the winding roads, they could possibly
 
   reach the train station in time to board the late afternoon train. If
 
   they didn't make it in time, the next train wouldn't come through until
 
   the following morning.
 
 
 
   He stood there, hesitating, as he studied her. Her hair was down
 
   around the sides of her face, and he gently lifted a silky strand away
 
   to look at the bruise near her temple. It didn't look as bad as it had
 
   last night.
 
 
 
   His fingers trailed down the side of her face. "Are you sure, Grace?
 
 
 
   " She gently removed his hand. "I'm sure." He was staring intently at
 
   her, and she thought he might be looking for a sign of weakness from
 
   her. She straightened her shoulders, smiled, and suggested once again
 
   that they get going.
 
 
 
   "Is there time for me to stop by the wagon? I must get another hat, "
 
   she explained. "A lady should never appear in public without her head
 
   covered. It just isn't done."
 
 
 
   "Then why did you sell the one you had? " "Daniel, it was ten whole
 
   dollars." He grinned. "It took you by surprise, didn't it? " "Not
 
   really, " she admitted. "It's the third hat I've sold since I arrived,
 
   and I didn't even try, " she added. "The poor ladies here don't have
 
   the shops we have in London.
 
 
 
   They must order through the catalog, but quite often what they think
 
   they're buying and what they get are two different things. It can be
 
   very disappointing."
 
 
 
   "I'm sure it can be, " he said dryly.
 
 
 
   She laughed. "Hats are important to ladies, but not to men. Isn't
 
   that right? " "Come on then, " he said. "The wagon was moved to the
 
   stable. You can get another hat out of your boxes there." He took
 
   hold of her arm and tried to go out the front door. She pulled away.
 
 
 
   "It would be rude to leave without saying good-bye to Jessica and
 
   Rebecca."
 
 
 
   "They've already left. Jessica went with Cole yesterday to take Caleb
 
   to a friend's house, and Rebecca left with Marshal Cooper.
 
 
 
   You'll see them again in Red Arrow, " he explained as he picked up her
 
   valise, grabbed hold of her arm, and headed out the doorway again.
 
 
 
   "Are we going to run to the stables? " He immediately slowed down.
 
 
 
   Once they were outside, his full attention was directed on the
 
   street.
 
 
 
   "Do you think we'll be able to catch up with Jessica or Rebecca? "
 
   "No."
 
 
 
   "It would have been nice to sit with them on the train."
 
 
 
   "Even if we took the same train, I wouldn't let you sit with them."
 
 
 
   "Why not? " "I'll explain later, " he hedged.
 
 
 
   She pulled her arm away from him. "Daniel, it's rude to look away when
 
   you're speaking to someone." He smiled over the censure in her
 
   voice.
 
 
 
   She sounded like a teacher explaining simple manners to a little boy.
 
 
 
   "Grace, I'm trying to make sure no one takes a shot at you, but if you
 
   would rather I looked at you . . . " "No, no, I would rather you watch
 
   the street. Do you think there's someone waiting to shoot me? "
 
   "Besides me? " "That isn't funny." They arrived at the stable a
 
   moment later. The wagon was in the back, and Grace went through the
 
   crates until she had found three more hats to take with her. She
 
   stuffed two inside her valise and kept the third one with her. Daniel
 
   made her stand away from the door while he went to ready his horse.
 
 
 
   The owner, a short, squat man with a thick neck and a round belly, came
 
   forward to introduce himself. He had a sincere smile and smelled of
 
   horses. "My name's Harry, and I'd shake your hand, Miss, but it's real
 
   dirty. Can I be of assistance? " She smiled at the eager young man.
 
 
 
   "Yes, you may be of assistance, " she replied.
 
 
 
   "The lady needs a sound horse, " Daniel called out. He was saddling
 
   his own horse, a beautiful gray stallion with a surprisingly calm
 
   disposition, but he was also keeping a watchful eye on Grace.
 
 
 
   She looked completely out of place. "Pink fluff, " he whispered. The
 
   woman belonged in a fancy parlor, dressed the way she was in that
 
   ridiculously feminine hat and those impractical leather slippers.
 
 
 
   Harry sure did like her though. The man had a rapturous look on his
 
   face and kept trying to edge closer to her. Probably because she
 
   smelled so good, Daniel thought, but he didn't care what Harry's reason
 
   was. He wanted him to back away.
 
 
 
   "How about getting the lady a horse, Harry? " Daniel called out, his
 
   tone just as sharp as he intended.
 
 
 
   "Your husband sounds a might possessive, " Harry whispered before
 
   turning to Daniel. "I'll fix your woman up with the best I got." A
 
   few minutes later, Harry came strutting forward leading a swaybacked
 
   gelding that Grace suspected had lost all of his teeth. The poor thing
 
   was obviously on his last legs.
 
 
 
   She took one look at the sorry beast and politely declined. "No, thank
 
   you." Harry rubbed his jowls while he considered which of the other
 
   horses to show her. "I only just inherited this stable from my
 
   brother, and I'm not familiar with his stock, " he said. "But I recall
 
   one pretty little mare. You're gonna like her just fine, " he promised
 
   as he turned and hurried away. "I guess you could say I was saving the
 
   best for last." Grace politely but firmly declined the pretty little
 
   mare too.
 
 
 
   "What's the matter with this one? " Harry wanted to know.
 
 
 
   "She simply won't do, " Grace replied. "She should be put out to
 
   pasture. With such spindly legs she wouldn't have enough stamina for a
 
   trip down the street. May I have a look at the other horses? " Harry
 
   got his back up. "No, you may not. You stay right here, and I'll
 
   fetch the best I got and bring him out to you." Grace didn't think it
 
   was a good idea to remind Harry that he had already brought out the
 
   "best" of the lot. She patiently waited, and when he showed her yet
 
   another swaybacked horse, she shook her head.
 
 
 
   Harry threw his hands up in defeat. "Go ahead and look, ma'am. I'll
 
   let you have whatever you think you want." It only took her a couple
 
   of minutes to find a sound horse. She was a fiesty mare Harry had
 
   hidden in one of the rear stalls.
 
 
 
   Harry immediately tried to talk her out of her choice. "I'll grant
 
   you, she's sound, but she's mean, " he explained. "You don't want the
 
   lady riding her, " he told Daniel.
 
 
 
   "Grace? " "Yes, Daniel? " "Can you handle her? " "Yes, I can. "
 
   "Well, now, she will get you where you want to go, " Harry agreed.
 
 
 
   "But . . . " Grace reached up with her gloved hand and patted the
 
   animal. "Oh, she's lovely. She'll do just fine. What's her name? "
 
   "Damnation." Grace's eyes widened. "Harry, if you don't wish to sell
 
   her to me, simply say so. Cursing isn't necessary."
 
 
 
   "I wasn't cursing. That's her name, " he insisted. "The owner that
 
   sold her to me told me her name after the bargain was struck. I'm
 
   telling you plain and simple. Her name's Damnation."
 
 
 
   "That won't do, " Grace announced. "I'll call her Daisy." Harry
 
   rolled his eyes. "I don't think you understand, ma'am. You can call
 
   her anything you want, but she'll only answer to Damnation. Do you
 
   still want to take her? " "Yes, please. Daniel, isn't she lovely? "
 
   Daniel was trying not to laugh. When Harry had told them the name of
 
   the horse, Grace's cheeks had turned as pink as her blouse. She
 
   thought Damnation was lovely, and he agreed just to get going.
 
 
 
   After accepting the money from Daniel for the horse and saddle, Harry
 
   began to have second thoughts.
 
 
 
   "Are you certain your wife can handle such a mean-spirited animal? "
 
   "He's sure, " Grace answered before Daniel could speak.
 
 
 
   Harry gave up. "I'll fetch you a riding crop then. You're going to
 
   need it with this hell-raiser."
 
 
 
   "No, thank you, " Grace said.
 
 
 
   "I'm telling you, she won't do what you want unless you lash her.
 
 
 
   You're going to need the riding crop." The argument would have
 
   escalated if Daniel hadn't stepped in. Harry, he decided, was in the
 
   wrong line of work. The man was afraid to get near the horse. Daniel
 
   quickly saddled the mare and led her out to Grace.
 
 
 
   Harry was pleading with Grace now. She wouldn't accept the crop, even
 
   when he told her he'd give it to her for free.
 
 
 
   "It's time to get going, " Daniel announced. He tied her valise behind
 
   the saddle and then lifted her up so that he could adjust the
 
   stirrups.
 
 
 
   She felt as light as a handful of feathers. He couldn't hide his smile
 
   when she put her straw hat back on her head. White ribbons trailed
 
   down her back. He thought she looked as though she was about to go for
 
   a Sunday ride through the park.
 
 
 
   Looks could be deceiving, he knew. She'd surprised him when she'd
 
   proven to be so knowledgeable about horses, and the way she sat in the
 
   saddle told him she hadn't exaggerated about her riding experience.
 
 
 
   "Why are you smiling? " she asked.
 
 
 
   "We just might make it to the train, " he replied. "That's what I was
 
   thinking." There was a speck of dirt on his chin. Before she could
 
   think better of it, she reached over and gently brushed it away.
 
 
 
   He reacted as though she'd just struck him a hard blow. He jerked back
 
   and turned away from her.
 
 
 
   "Let's go, " he ordered. "Harry, open the back doors for us. We'll go
 
   out that way."
 
 
 
   "How long will we be in Texas? " Grace asked.
 
 
 
   Daniel was about to swing up into his saddle when she asked the
 
   question. He turned to her. His arm was casually draped over his
 
   saddle, his head was tilted ever so slightly to the side, and she
 
   thought he looked exactly like one of the wild and rugged gunmen of the
 
   West she'd read stories about. The wilderness men, as they were
 
   called, were bigger than life and couldn't be tied down. They roamed
 
   the land seeking adventure and danger, and left broken hearts behind
 
   them. Was Daniel like that? she wondered. She thought perhaps that
 
   he was. He just looked the type who would never, ever settle down.
 
 
 
   "There's no way of knowing, " Daniel answered, wondering why she was
 
   frowning so intently. "Why do you need to know? " "I have other
 
   commitments, " she said. "They're personal. Could you please make a
 
   calculated guess, Daniel? I really do need to know."
 
 
 
   "It's going to take us a week or two to get to Blackwater, depending on
 
   the amount of trouble we run into, " he said. "Then you'll have to
 
   stay until the trial's over and the other men have been caughtţ"
 
   "Why?
 
 
 
   " she interrupted. "That could take months."
 
 
 
   "I can't let you go on your way until I'm certain none of the other
 
   gang members will come after you." She closed her eyes. "All right
 
   then, " she agreed. "You're telling me I could be in Texas for as
 
   little as a few weeks or as long as two months."
 
 
 
   "Could be longer, " he told her.
 
 
 
   Her reaction surprised him. Tears came into her eyes. "Then it's
 
   settled."
 
 
 
   "What's settled? " he asked, confused by the sadness he heard in her
 
   voice.
 
 
 
   She was so disheartened she could barely think what to do. "It's over,
 
   " she whispered. "And I've lost."
 
 
 
   "Grace, what are you talking about? " "I don't blame you, Daniel.
 
 
 
   Really I don't."
 
 
 
   "Will you make sense? " he demanded. "Explain why you're so upset."
 
 
 
   "My future, " she cried out. "It's ruined. Even one month's too
 
   long.
 
 
 
   Don't you understand? No, of course you don't, but it doesnyt
 
   matter.
 
 
 
   It's all my own fault for having such silly dreams. I've wasted too
 
   much time already, and I'd never be able to become established in the
 
   amount of time I have left." Her sigh was long and weary. "I have to
 
   make a stop at the telegraph office before we leave town."
 
 
 
   "No, " Daniel said.
 
 
 
   "I'm sorry, but I must insist."
 
 
 
   "Tell me why, " he argued.
 
 
 
   "When a person dreads something, isn't it best to hurry and get it over
 
   with as soon as possible so he'll stop dreading it? " Daniel didn't
 
   have any idea what she was talking about. Harry obviously did though,
 
   for he stepped forward to offer his opinion.
 
 
 
   "Do you mean like getting a tooth pulled? " he asked.
 
 
 
   "Yes, it's exactly like that, " she agreed.
 
 
 
   "She's telling you she's got to send a wire now so she'll stop dreading
 
   it, " he told Daniel.
 
 
 
   "I don't need an interpreter, " Daniel snapped. "You can send the wire
 
   from Blackwater. Now let's get going." She shook her head. "Waiting
 
   would only put off the inevitable." After making that statement of
 
   fact, she turned the mare and tried to ride out the front doors.
 
 
 
   Daniel muttered a blasphemy before chasing after her.
 
 
 
   Harry grabbed hold of the mare's reins and held tight. "Your husband's
 
   getting irritated, ma'am. What have you got to do that's so almighty
 
   important it can't wait? " She burst into tears. "I have to get
 
   married."
 
 
 
   "cZ < don't wish to talk about it."
 
 
 
   "I don't care if you wish to or not, " Daniel said. "You're going to
 
   tell me why you have to get married." She decided to ignore him. She
 
   leaned back against the padded seat inside their private compartment
 
   and looked out the window at the passing scenery. The train was
 
   traveling at a neck-breaking speed, and because they were in the last
 
   car, the compartment violently swayed every time the train slowed to go
 
   around a curve. The motion was making her nauseous, and judging from
 
   the tightness around Daniel's mouth and his gray countenance, she
 
   thought the motion was making him sick too.
 
 
 
   "Are you feeling all right? " "I'm fine, " he snapped.
 
 
 
   "You needn't be surly with me, Daniel." They sat across from one
 
   another in the tiny room. There was supposed to be seating for four
 
   adults, but he swallowed up all the space on his side. His long legs
 
   were sprawled out in front of him, making it impossible for her to
 
   leave without making him move first. She wasn't going anywhere,
 
   however. The door was bolted from the inside so that no one could
 
   intrude.
 
 
 
   "This probably isn't at all proper, " she remarked.
 
 
 
   "What isn't proper? " "Traveling together. It would be frowned on in
 
   England for an unattached man and woman to share a compartment together
 
   without a chaperone."
 
 
 
   "I'm a lawman, " he reminded her. "That changes things."
 
 
 
   "You're still a man."
 
 
 
   "Last time I looked I was, " he told her with a grin.
 
 
 
   She looked out the window again, but not before he saw her smile. "Are
 
   you ready to tell me why you have to get married? " "No, I'm not ready
 
   to tell you."
 
 
 
   "Are you in trouble, Grace? " She didn't look at him when she
 
   answered. "Yes, I suppose I am." His mind leapt from one possibility
 
   to another, but she wasn't the type of woman who would let a man touch
 
   her before marriage. She was innocent and sweet and definitely
 
   untouched.
 
 
 
   "You aren't pregnant."
 
 
 
   "Good heavens, no, " she stammered out. "How could you think that I
 
   .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   . " "You said you had to get married, and you said you were in
 
   trouble.
 
 
 
   I simply put the two together, but then I changed my mind. It's a long
 
   trip to Texas, Grace, and eventually you will tell me what I want to
 
   know. You might as well do it now."
 
 
 
   "Daniel, I had no idea that men could be such nags. Very well, you
 
   win.
 
 
 
   I made a promise to my parents that I would marry Lord Nigel Edmonds if
 
   things didn't work out here. They haven't, " she added.
 
 
 
   "I still don't understand. What didn't work out? " She frowned in
 
   vexation. "My parents are titled and therefore highly positioned in
 
   society. They're also quite poor, and it's been very difficult for
 
   them to keep up appearances. They've borrowed against their land, and
 
   they haven't been able to make the interest payments to their banker.
 
 
 
   They've been terribly humiliated."
 
 
 
   "Has anyone suggested to your father that maybe he ought to think about
 
   getting a job? " "Oh, no, that wouldn't do. He's titled, " she
 
   repeated.
 
 
 
   "Being titled won't put food on the table."
 
 
 
   "No, it won't, " she agreed.
 
 
 
   "If he can't or won't work, then he's going to have to sell his land
 
   and whatever else he has of value."
 
 
 
   "That's why I'm getting married.
 
 
 
   " "I still don't understand."
 
 
 
   "I'm all my father has left, Daniel .
 
 
 
   . . " He leaned forward. "Are you telling me he's selling you? " "No,
 
   no, of course not. He simply arranged a suitable marriage for me. "
 
   "And will this marriage solve his financial problems? " "Yes, it
 
   will.
 
 
 
   " "Then he's selling you."
 
 
 
   "No, he isn't, " she snapped. "Arranged marriages that benefit both
 
   families have been going on for centuries.
 
 
 
   My father isn't doing anything wrong. In fact, he's been extremely
 
   patient with me. I asked him for a year's grace, and it was my hope
 
   .
 
 
 
   . . my dream really, foolish though it was . . . that I could make a
 
   go of it here. I wanted to purchase land with my inheritance from an
 
   uncleţ" "And make enough to support your parents in the style they're
 
   accustomed to? " "No, you've jumped to the wrong conclusion. My
 
   parents are quite elderly. They were in their forties when I was born,
 
   " she explained.
 
 
 
   "But they aren't set in their ways. If the ranch could support them,
 
   they could leave England and come to me. Isn't that adventurous of
 
   them?
 
 
 
   You'd like my parents, Daniel. They're very practical, and you'd have
 
   that in common."
 
 
 
   "You're not old enough to be shouldering such responsibilities."
 
 
 
   "Age doesn't have anything to do with it. The day I was born my future
 
   was determined."
 
 
 
   "Why? " "Because I was born a lady."
 
 
 
   "I know you're a lady, " he replied, smiling.
 
 
 
   "No, you don't understand. I was born Lady Grace Winthrop. The title
 
   carries certain responsibilities, and I would shame my parents if I
 
   didn't honor their wishes." Daniel was intrigued by the vast cultural
 
   differences between the two of them. What was important in England
 
   didn't matter at all in the United States.
 
 
 
   "Titles don't mean anything here."
 
 
 
   "I know, " she said. "What is important here? Money? " "To some, "
 
   he allowed.
 
 
 
   "What's important to you? " "Honor."
 
 
 
   "But that's exactly what I was trying to say. My honor is at stake. I
 
   must do the right thing."
 
 
 
   "A man's word is more important in the United States than his position
 
   in society."
 
 
 
   "Being responsible is extremely important to me, " she countered. "I
 
   have specific duties."
 
 
 
   "Like getting yourself hitched to a man with money and power? " "If it
 
   will help my family, then yes.
 
 
 
   " "You don't like it much, do you, Grace? " She refused to answer
 
   him.
 
 
 
   "No, you don't like it much at all, " he said. "You wouldn't have
 
   asked for a stay of execution if you agreed with your parents. Do you
 
   love the man they've chosen for you? " "I'm sure I'll learn to love
 
   him. He seems a decent sort."
 
 
 
   "Seems decent? " She blushed. "I don't know him well. In fact, I've
 
   only met him once.
 
 
 
   I was introduced to him at a charity ball, and I'll admit he didn't
 
   make much of an impression on me. I shouldn't be talking like this,
 
   should I? " "There's nothing wrong with being honest, " he told her.
 
 
 
   "You must have made quite an impression on him."
 
 
 
   "It seems I did, " she said. "He sent a note to my father the very
 
   next day requesting an audience. Mother told me Nigel fell in love
 
   with me immediately, but I don't believe that nonsense."
 
 
 
   "I'll wager it was lust at first sight.
 
 
 
   " "I don't think we should talk about this anymore. It seems to upset
 
   you."
 
 
 
   "I'm not upset, " he snapped. "It just seems so barbaric of your
 
   father."
 
 
 
   "Daniel, arranged marriages are customary in some societies."
 
 
 
   "And you're a dutiful daughter." Her spine stiffened.
 
 
 
   "As a matter of fact, I am. It was quite wonderful of my parents to
 
   give me a year's . . . " "Reprieve? " "Sabbatical, " she corrected.
 
 
 
   "They wanted me to have the chance of fulfilling my dream. They have
 
   tremendous faith in me." His blue eyes bored into her. "But you don't
 
   have much faith in yourself, do you, Grace? " "Of course I do.
 
 
 
   " "Then why are you giving up so easily? " "Because I'm going to
 
   Texas, " she answered. "I cannot be in two places at once. I've
 
   already used up four months, and going to Texas might take as much as
 
   two more. I won't have much of a life until you've caught all of the
 
   members of that horrible gang, because you're going to insist on
 
   protecting me and that might take you months and months."
 
 
 
   "You're giving up, " he repeated.
 
 
 
   He was hitting too close to the mark, and she didn't like that one
 
   bit.
 
 
 
   He was making her acknowledge what she had been trying to ignore. As
 
   soon as the road became bumpy, she was ready to quit.
 
 
 
   "I'm not a quitter."
 
 
 
   "It seems to me that you are."
 
 
 
   "Oh, what do you know? Things are different for you."
 
 
 
   "Because I live in the United States."
 
 
 
   "Because you're a man, " she said. "You don't ever have to get married
 
   unless you want to, and I sincerely doubt that will ever happen. You
 
   aren't the type to settle down and raise a family." He shifted his
 
   position on the bench so his legs could have more room to stretch
 
   out.
 
 
 
   "I was married." She was astonished. "You were? " He nodded. "For
 
   almost seven years. We had a daughter named Bridget." She didn't ask
 
   him any more questions, but the silence didn't make him
 
   uncomfortable.
 
 
 
   He didn't know why he felt compelled to tell her about his past, but
 
   the words wouldn't stay locked inside of him any longer.
 
 
 
   "They're both dead . . . two years now."
 
 
 
   "I'm so sorry."
 
 
 
   "Yeah.
 
 
 
   So am I. " He sounded as though he had been talking about strangers,
 
   for all the emotion in his voice, but the pain was there in his eyes,
 
   and it was devastating. She wanted to go to him and take him into her
 
   arms and give him what small comfort she could, and the only reason she
 
   didn't was because she knew he wouldn't accept it.
 
 
 
   She didn't want him to see how shaken she was, and so she turned to
 
   look out the window again.
 
 
 
   She didn't speak again for several minutes, and then she asked, "What
 
   was your wife's name? " "Kathleen."
 
 
 
   "It's a beautiful name. You loved her very much, didn't you, Daniel?
 
 
 
   " "Yes, " he answered without hesitation. "I loved her. I still "Do
 
   you think you'll ever marry again? " "No, " he answered.
 
 
 
   "In time . . . " He shook his head. "Don't tell me that time heals.
 
 
 
   " She didn't understand why he had suddenly become so antagonistic. "I
 
   wasn't going to say that."
 
 
 
   "Then what were you going to say? " "That in time you'll be able to
 
   smile when you think of Kathleen and Bridget because you'll remember
 
   the joyous times you had with them. The pain won't ever go away, but
 
   it will lessen."
 
 
 
   "How the hell would you know? " She tried to ignore his hostility. "I
 
   don't know firsthand.
 
 
 
   It's only a hope I have for you."
 
 
 
   "It's hot in here, isn't it? " She agreed with a nod as she reached
 
   over to unlatch the lock on the window. She pushed and prodded but
 
   couldn't get the window up. "I think it's been sealed shut." Daniel
 
   reached over, gave the frame one good push, and the window opened. A
 
   hot breeze rushed into the compartment.
 
 
 
   "Tell me, what was Kathleen like? " Grace asked.
 
 
 
   "Why? " "I'm curious, that's all." Daniel propped his feet up on the
 
   bench next to Grace, leaned back, and closed his eyes. His arms were
 
   folded across his chest, and he looked as though he was going to
 
   sleep.
 
 
 
   "She was the complete opposite of you, " he answered. "In appearance
 
   and in disposition."
 
 
 
   "What did she look like? " "She was tall and had brown hair and brown
 
   eyes, and lots of freckles, " he added. "She worried about her weight
 
   all the time, but she didn't need to because she was perfect just the
 
   way she was. Kathleen was a beautiful woman, inside and out. So was
 
   our daughter. She looked just like her mother.
 
 
 
   " Several minutes went by in silence before Grace asked another
 
   question.
 
 
 
   "How did you meet her? " "I stopped by her father's farm on my way
 
   into Dillon, and she was working in the garden. She was down on her
 
   knees pulling weeds with the sun beating down on her, and all she had
 
   to do was look up at me and smile. I think I fell in love with her
 
   then and there."
 
 
 
   "I love to garden, " Grace said, believing that she and Kathleen shared
 
   a common interest after all. "I had the most beautiful cutting
 
   flowers, all the colors of the rainbow." Daniel shook his head.
 
 
 
   "Kathleen's garden was filled with vegetables.
 
 
 
   She was raised on a farm, and she didn't have time to grow flowers.
 
 
 
   They raised crops so they could put food on the table. You were raised
 
   in the city, weren't you? " "We had a house in the country too, " she
 
   said. "We would go there when the heat in the city became
 
   unbearable.
 
 
 
   " He scoffed at the notion. "Kathleen wasn't privileged, and she sure
 
   didn't have time to worry about the heat or society. She worked from
 
   dawn to dusk, no matter what the weather. She didn't have a closet
 
   full of fancy ball gowns, but what she did have was honor and courage
 
   and loyalty."
 
 
 
   "And I don't? Is that what you're telling me, Daniel?
 
 
 
   You said that Kathleen and I are complete opposites. She had honor,
 
   and I don't? " "I'm just saying you're different." She stared into
 
   his eyes and asked, "Did you mean to hurt me on purpose? " He didn't
 
   answer her. She looked out the window so he wouldn't see how he had
 
   wounded her with his backhanded insults. What had she done to make him
 
   think so little of her, she wondered, and why did his opinion of her
 
   matter so much?
 
 
 
   She squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying. If he saw a single
 
   tear, she was sure he'd think she was a weakling, and she wasn't weak,
 
   she was strong. Granted, she had never plowed a field before or
 
   planted a vegetable garden, but that didn't mean she couldn't.
 
 
 
   Getting angry lessened the hurt. How dare he make such sweeping
 
   judgments about her.
 
 
 
   "I'm sorry, Grace. I didn't mean to insult you." She didn't look at
 
   him when she replied. "Yes, you did."
 
 
 
   "Damn it, you aren't going to cry, are you? " She glared at him. "No,
 
   I'm not, " she snapped.
 
 
 
   "Just don't lie to me. You meant to hurt me, and the very least you
 
   could do is admit it."
 
 
 
   "Fine. I meant to hurt you. Close the window, will you? It's getting
 
   cold in here."
 
 
 
   "It's as hot as the inside of an oven, " she argued.
 
 
 
   "Just close it." She stood up to do as he asked, then turned to him
 
   once again. "Are you getting sick? " "No, I'm not, " he muttered.
 
 
 
   "I'm just tired."
 
 
 
   "You were hot a few minutes ago, and now you're cold." She sat down on
 
   the bench beside him, squeezing herself in between the wall and his
 
   side. Before he could stop her, she reached up and touched his brow
 
   with the back of her hand. "You have a fever.
 
 
 
   Daniel, I think you're getting influenza."
 
 
 
   "Grace, go sit on your own bench and leave me alone. Please." She
 
   moved back to her seat and sat there fretting about him. "Now I
 
   understand why you're so surly.
 
 
 
   You aren't feeling well." The train flew around another curve in the
 
   tracks, the compartment swayed back and forth, and Daniel's stomach
 
   felt as though it had just lurched out the window.
 
 
 
   "I'm not surly, " he growled. "I said those things so you'd stay away
 
   from me. It was stupid and cruel, and I shouldn't have done it, but
 
   you need to keep your distance, Grace. That's just the way it is. Why
 
   in God's name does this train have to go so fast? " "It isn't going
 
   fast. It's slowing down, and how in heaven's name can I keep away from
 
   you? We're locked in this compartment together, and you won't let me
 
   out of your sight. What did I do to offend you so? " "Ah, hell,
 
   Grace, you haven't done anything wrong. You're just so damned pretty
 
   and sweet." She didn't know what to think. The words were flattering,
 
   but the way he'd said them made them seem like accusations of some
 
   sort. Why did the fact that he thought she was pretty and sweet anger
 
   him?
 
 
 
   "Daniel, you aren't making any sense at all." He could feel the bile
 
   rising in his throat. He took a deep breath to try to keep his stomach
 
   from overturning. "Look, it's real simple."
 
 
 
   "It is? " she asked quietly.
 
 
 
   "Yes, " he growled. "I haven't wanted any woman since my wife, but
 
   lately . . . since I met you anyway, I've . . . " She waited for him
 
   to continue, then gave in and prodded him. "You what? " He figured he
 
   had about fifteen seconds, at the most, to make it to the washroom at
 
   the end of the car. He bolted for the door.
 
 
 
   "I want you, Grace. Now do you get it? Lock the door behind me, and
 
   don't let anyone in." She was so stunned she couldn't move. He roared
 
   her name to get her to do what he wanted, then stood outside the door
 
   until he heard the bolt clicking into place.
 
 
 
   He made it to the washroom the first time he threw up. He didn't make
 
   it all of the other times. He threw up on the floor and in the bucket
 
   the porter brought in to him. He thought he might have thrown up on
 
   Grace too, but he hoped to God he had imagined that. He did know he'd
 
   never felt this awful in his whole life. The illness drained every
 
   ounce of strength from his body. He could barely lift his head, and no
 
   matter how many blankets Grace covered-him with, he couldn't seem to
 
   get warm.
 
 
 
   Grace fixed a bed for him. She sat with him all through the night,
 
   cradling his head in her lap, stroking his brow with cool, wet
 
   compresses, and he was sure he would have rolled over and died if she
 
   hadn't been there.
 
 
 
   By midnight, he stopped throwing up and actually slept. She shook him
 
   awake around dawn to tell him they had reached the station and needed
 
   to change trains. He honestly didn't know how he managed to get from
 
   one compartment to the other, and he was surprised when he saw that the
 
   valises had also been transferred. Had she carried them? No, she
 
   couldn't have. She had her hands full trying to hold him up. He had
 
   been completely useless, and when he realized what an easy target she
 
   had been while they were moving from one train to the other, he got
 
   chills again.
 
 
 
   As soon as the door was bolted behind him, he went back to sleep. He
 
   woke up with his head in Grace's lap again. She was leaning against
 
   the window, her eyes were closed, and she looked very peaceful and
 
   serene.
 
 
 
   He tried to be quiet so he wouldn't disturb her After he washed and
 
   changed his shirt, he sat down on the bench across from her.
 
 
 
   He noticed then that she had changed her clothes. She was wearing a
 
   white blouse with a pretty brooch at her neck and a dark blue skirt.
 
 
 
   She'd changed her shoes too. The ones she had on now matched her
 
   skirt.
 
 
 
   When had she had the time? he wondered, and why had she bothered?
 
 
 
   "Good morning, Daniel. Are you feeling better today? " "Yes, I'm
 
   feeling better. Did I wake you? " "No, I wasn't asleep. I was just
 
   resting. You don't look like you feel better. Lean forward and let me
 
   touch your brow."
 
 
 
   "Don't fuss over me, Grace. I'm fine." She was totally unaffected by
 
   his gruff manner. "Where have I heard that before? " "Heard what? "
 
   "You kept telling me you were fine all through the night, but you
 
   weren't fine, of course. Now lean forward.
 
 
 
   " There was a thread of iron in her command, and Daniel ended up
 
   obeying just to placate her. "You're a stubborn woman, " he
 
   muttered.
 
 
 
   She put the back of her hand against his forehead and frowned. "I just
 
   can't tell, " she admitted. "If you have a fever, it isn't much. You
 
   mustn't eat or drink anything yet, or you'll get sick again. You're
 
   very fortunate." He leaned back against the cushions and crossed his
 
   arms over his chest. "How's that? " "You have a mild case of
 
   influenza. It could have been much worse.
 
 
 
   Jessica was throwing up, off and on, for three days. I thought she was
 
   going to die."
 
 
 
   "I wanted to die last night, " he admitted. "By the way, thanks for
 
   .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   . you know."
 
 
 
   "You're welcome." Curious, he asked, "Why did you change your
 
   clothes?
 
 
 
   Did I get them all wrinkled? I must have, " he added before she could
 
   answer him. "Seems like a waste, though. No one's going to see you
 
   but me."
 
 
 
   "It was necessary."
 
 
 
   "Why? " She let out a little sigh. "You threw up all over me."
 
 
 
   "Ah, Grace, I'm sorry." She laughed. "Daniel, you didn't do it on
 
   purpose."
 
 
 
   "Did the porter help you . . . " He didn't finish the question because
 
   she was shaking her head.
 
 
 
   "I didn't let the porter come inside the compartment because you made
 
   me promise not to let anyone in, remember? " "No, " he admitted. "I
 
   don't remember. If he didn't come in, who cleaned up the floor? " "I
 
   did." He looked miserable, and she was suddenly sorry she'd told him
 
   the truth. "Why don't we talk about something else? " "Like what? "
 
   "The weather, " she suggested.
 
 
 
   "You're joking."
 
 
 
   "It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment. Would you mind
 
   if I opened the window and let some fresh air inside? " He got up and
 
   opened the window for her. The breeze felt soothing against his
 
   skin.
 
 
 
   He sat down again and looked at her. "Do you want something to drink
 
   or eat? " "Would you be able to stomach it if I ate in front of you?
 
 
 
   " "Maybe you should wait a little while." Grace hadn't eaten anything
 
   since yesterday morning, and even though she was starving, she nodded
 
   her agreement. "I'll be happy to wait."
 
 
 
   "Do you want a glass of water? I do."
 
 
 
   "You're not going to have it, " she said in that commanding voice he
 
   was beginning to dislike intensely.
 
 
 
   "Why not? " "You know why not. You'll get sick again. I'm not in the
 
   mood to clean up another mess."
 
 
 
   "Now who's being surly? " He sounded like a bear. He resembled one
 
   too with the day's growth of whiskers on his jaw. His hair was in
 
   disarray, his shirttail was hanging out, and there was a definite
 
   menacing quality about him now. Yet, she still thought he was
 
   handsome.
 
 
 
   He wanted her. She still couldn't seem to get past that remarkable
 
   fact, and she really wished she could talk to him about it. She didn't
 
   dare say a word, at least not while he was in his present irritable
 
   mood. She supposed she would have to wait until later to bring up the
 
   topic, and perhaps by then she would have figured out why his admission
 
   had stunned her and left her breathless.
 
 
 
   No, she wouldn't mention it now because it would be indelicate.
 
 
 
   Daniel didn't have any such reservations. "About what I said yesterday
 
   . . . " "And what was that? " "You know . . . that I wanted you. "
 
   She folded her hands together. "You didn't mean it. Is that what you
 
   want to tell me now? It was the fever talking."
 
 
 
   "No, I meant it all right."
 
 
 
   "You did? " she whispered, astounded that he was being so
 
   forthright.
 
 
 
   She had just given him an out, but he hadn't taken it.
 
 
 
   "Yes, " he said. "I'm not going to do anything about it, though, so
 
   don't let it go to your head." Her mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?
 
 
 
   " she said.
 
 
 
   Daniel realized he'd made a bit of a blunder when he saw the fire in
 
   her eyes. "I just meant that I guess you could take what I said as a
 
   compliment, but don't make too much out of it because I don't plan to
 
   do anything about it."
 
 
 
   "Oh, yes, it was a compliment all right. You told me you wanted me,
 
   and then you promptly threw up all over me." He burst into laughter.
 
 
 
   "I'm real sorry, Grace."
 
 
 
   "Oh, go stick your head in a bucket." He laughed again. "I got you
 
   all riled up, didn't I? I didn't think you were capable of ever
 
   getting angry, but you are, aren't you? You've got a temper underneath
 
   that thick layer of sugar, Lady Winthrop. I wonder what good old Nigel
 
   would think about that."
 
 
 
   "Must you be so exasperating? " "Do you still want to send the
 
   telegram agreeing to marry Nigel? " "Could we please change the
 
   subject? " "Sure, " he agreed. "Do you want to talk about the weather
 
   again? " "We didn't talk about it, but no, I don't want to now. I was
 
   thinking about Jessica and Rebecca. I had hoped to run into them when
 
   we were changing trains, but I didn't see either one of them."
 
 
 
   "Cole and Jessica wouldn't have had time to catch up with us. They're
 
   a full day behind us, and Cooper and Rebecca left yesterday."
 
 
 
   "But we made up time going by horseback, and they could have missed
 
   their train yesterday."
 
 
 
   "Maybe, but it's unlikely, " he said. "I looked for them too, but I
 
   didn't see them."
 
 
 
   "Of course you didn't. You were draped all over me. You could barely
 
   keep your eyes open."
 
 
 
   "I'm sure your friend is doing just fine. Don't worry. Cooper will
 
   keep her safe."
 
 
 
   "You really think so? " "Yes, " he insisted. "Now stop worrying.
 
 
 
   Knowing Cooper, he's probably already taught her how to play poker.
 
 
 
   I'll bet she's having the time of her life." /ebecca was going
 
   stir-crazy. She thought she would go out of her mind if she had to
 
   stay locked inside the tiny compartment with Marshal Cooper much
 
   longer. As attractive and attentive as he was, he was still driving
 
   her to distraction. He did try to make the time pass quickly.
 
 
 
   They played cards for several hours, chatted, and ate a boxed lunch the
 
   porter fetched for them. Boredom set in then, and all she wanted was
 
   to be left alone for a few minutes. In desperation, she finally came
 
   up with a plausible reason to send him away. She asked him to please
 
   fetch her brown suitcase the porter had put in the luggage compartment
 
   so that she could get her medicine. Pleading a headache, she insisted
 
   that if she didn't drink her tonic before the pain intensified, she
 
   would have to leave the train at the next town and take to her bed.
 
 
 
   She felt guilty lying to him because he was being so sympathetic and
 
   understanding.
 
 
 
   "I know I should have packed the medicine in my little valise, but I
 
   forgot."
 
 
 
   "Is the pain bad? " Cooper asked, his concern apparent.
 
 
 
   "It's becoming unbearable, " she replied. "If I don't nip it now, I'll
 
   be sick for a week. The pain becomes blinding." Cooper couldn't have
 
   been any more solicitous. After promising to hurry, he told her to
 
   bolt the door after him, and she did exactly that.
 
 
 
   Then she stood in the center of the claustrophobic cubicle and let out
 
   a blissful sigh because she finally had the room to herself and it was
 
   so wonderfully quiet. She needed time alone to think about the future
 
   and formulate her plans. Lord only knew, there was so much to be done
 
   in such a short time.
 
 
 
   She expected Cooper to be gone at least fifteen minutes and probably
 
   more. The luggage compartment was three cars away, and once he'd made
 
   his way there, he would have to search through the baggage to find
 
   hers.
 
 
 
   Yet, less than a minute after he had left, a knock sounded at the
 
   door.
 
 
 
   "Now what? " she muttered, assuming that the marshal had thought of
 
   yet another order to give her before he went on the errand. She forced
 
   a smile back on her face, flipped the bolt, and opened the door a
 
   crack.
 
 
 
   The door seemed to explode against the interior wall, then bounced
 
   back. She couldn't even scream. All she saw as she staggered backward
 
   was the barrel of a gleaming black pistol. It was pointed at her.
 
 
 
   She fell on the bench, clutching her bosom. Panting with fear, she
 
   cried out, "What are you doing here? " In answer, the gunman rushed
 
   inside and kicked the door shut behind him. He was dressed in a dark
 
   business suit and wore shiny black shoes.
 
 
 
   He didn't look like a murderer.
 
 
 
   "Get up, bitch, " he hissed.
 
 
 
   She didn't move fast enough. He grabbed her arm and jerked her toward
 
   him, his gun pressed into her belly. When he let go of her arm, she
 
   tried to step back, shaking her head at him in a silent plea not to
 
   hurt her, but he was indifferent to her fear.
 
 
 
   "Please, " she whimpered.
 
 
 
   Her plea fueled his excitement. "That's it, bitch. Beg me, " he
 
   crooned.
 
 
 
   "I want you to beg." He reached between them and tore the front of her
 
   dress open to the waist, smiling when she cried out again. Before she
 
   could cover herself, his hand was painfully squeezing one of her
 
   breasts.
 
 
 
   "No, don't do this, " she whispered.
 
 
 
   He tossed the gun on the bench, laughing now, and pulled her up against
 
   him. His fingers tore through her hair as his mouth slammed against
 
   hers. The kiss was wet, hot, crude. He bit her lower lip until he'd
 
   drawn blood and hungrily licked the red drops with his tongue.
 
 
 
   He kissed her again and again, holding her prisoner in his arms as she
 
   fought him, and when he finally pulled back, he stared into her eyes as
 
   he slowly took hold of her hand and forced her to caress him intimately
 
   through his trousers.
 
 
 
   "I want you." Her eyes closed in blissful surrender, and she sagged
 
   against him. Her laugh was that of an enchantress. "You always want
 
   me." His grip tightened, and he panted against her ear. The sound
 
   aroused her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and boldly rubbed
 
   against him.
 
 
 
   "You ruined my blouse. You're too rough."
 
 
 
   "You like it rough." A shudder passed through her. "Yes, I like it
 
   that way, " she whispered.
 
 
 
   He began to kiss the side of her neck. She purred like a contented
 
   cat.
 
 
 
   "We shouldn't . . . The marshal will be back soon. Oh, God, that
 
   feels good." She leaned back so she could see his eyes. "I see you
 
   received my telegram. Are the boys with you? " He kissed her mouth
 
   once again before he answered her. "Johnson's in Rockford Falls
 
   waiting for the opportunity to kill both those women. The others have
 
   gone on ahead to Red Arrow. If Johnson fails, they'll kill them when
 
   they get off the train. You are sure that's where the women are
 
   headed, aren't you? " "Yes, I'm sure, " she answered smugly.
 
 
 
   "Have you figured out which one was in that bank? " "No, " she said.
 
 
 
   "Both of them are as scared as mice and neither one confided in me.
 
 
 
   It's a pity the fire didn't kill them, " she added as she slid her
 
   fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "I went to a
 
   considerable amount of trouble."
 
 
 
   "Don't you pout, " he crooned. "If Johnson can't get them, the rest of
 
   my boys will take care of them in Red Arrow."
 
 
 
   "And then I'm the witness." Her throaty laugh inflamed him. "Yes,
 
   yes, " he whispered. "Oh, that's fine. Just fine." Her hand slowly
 
   moved down his chest and then lower still until she was once again
 
   stroking his arousal. She knew the effect she was having on him and
 
   thrilled with the feeling of such power.
 
 
 
   He reached for her skirts. She shook her head. "No, we mustn't, " she
 
   whispered as he began to tear at the buttons. "There isn't time. It's
 
   too dangerous."
 
 
 
   "We'll make time. I want you, Rebecca. Now." She gave in to his
 
   seduction and stepped back to strip for him. Her blouse was in
 
   tatters, and she quickly discarded it, then unbuttoned her skirt and
 
   let it fall to the floor. "We're fools to take such a chance, Donald,
 
   " she said as she unfastened her petticoats.
 
 
 
   He was panting while he watched her disrobe. He waited until only a
 
   silk-and-lace chemise covered her golden body, and then impatience got
 
   the better of him. He rushed forward, thrust his hand between her
 
   thighs and roughly shoved her back on the bench. She peeled the
 
   undergarment down her body, kicked it aside, then stretched out along
 
   the length of the cushioned seat and spread her legs wide, beckoning
 
   him to take her.
 
 
 
   He wet his lips in anticipation as he greedily stared at her breasts.
 
 
 
   He knelt on one knee between her thighs. He couldn't wait another
 
   second, for he knew he would burst with his need if he didn't mate with
 
   her quickly.
 
 
 
   "You know you drive me crazy, don't you, bitch? " She laughed. "Oh,
 
   yes, I know, " she whispered. "Who would have thought such a stuffy
 
   and prim gentleman could have such a violent appetite."
 
 
 
   "How much time do we have? " "At least fifteen minutes, " she
 
   answered.
 
 
 
   Donald was fumbling with the buttons on his trousers when he heard a
 
   knock on the door. Had he locked it? He couldn't remember. He jumped
 
   up and turned just as Cooper opened the door.
 
 
 
   "Rebecca, I told you to lock . . . " he began as he pushed the door
 
   wide. He was so startled to see her naked, he stopped. He couldn't
 
   seem to take in the scene.
 
 
 
   Donald stood behind the door, waiting for the marshal to come inside.
 
 
 
   He frantically searched for his pistol in his pockets.
 
 
 
   "What the hell? " Cooper muttered as he stepped forward.
 
 
 
   She leaned up on one elbow, her heart slamming inside her chest, and
 
   stared at Donald, silently willing him to take action. Cooper saw
 
   where she was looking and turned just as Donald moved forward.
 
 
 
   "Son of a bitch, " Cooper shouted.
 
 
 
   Rebecca panicked. She spotted Donald's pistol on the bench an arm's
 
   length away from her and rolled to her side, grabbed hold of the
 
   weapon, and fired.
 
 
 
   Cooper was going for his gun when the bullet struck him. The force was
 
   so powerful, he was thrown backward into the corridor against the
 
   windowpane. The glass shuddered from the impact.
 
 
 
   Rebecca scrambled to her feet. To keep from screaming, she covered her
 
   mouth with her hand and fired once again. She'd aimed too high the
 
   second time. Cooper was already crumbling to the floor. The bullet
 
   missed him but shattered the glass. It rained down on top of his prone
 
   body.
 
 
 
   "Oh, God . . . Oh, God, " she whimpered. "Did I kill him? Make sure
 
   I killed him. Hurry, Donald." Growling low in his throat like a
 
   cornered animal, Donald rushed into the hallway. His eyes darted from
 
   side to side to make sure no one else was coming down the aisle. "If
 
   he isn't dead, he will be, " Donald muttered. "Stop crying and get
 
   dressed. We have to get off the train."
 
 
 
   "Yes, yes, " she whimpered before turning to do as he ordered.
 
 
 
   Donald quickly dragged the unconscious lawman to the door connecting
 
   the cars, leaving a smeared trail of blood in his wake. The train was
 
   slowing to take the curved trestle above a yawning black lake when
 
   Donald opened the door. He could see a small town looming up in the
 
   distance on the other side of the lake. He bent down, half lifted
 
   Cooper, grunting from his weight, and then shoved and kicked him out.
 
 
 
   He stood there watching as the train clattered on around the bend,
 
   smiling when the marshal hit the water.
 
 
 
   No one had seen him. He was sure of it, and he doubted that anyone had
 
   heard the gunshots either, for the sound the train made as it thundered
 
   along the tracks muffled any other noises.
 
 
 
   Once again he had gotten away with murder. Excitement surged through
 
   his blood, and he began to pant with euphoria. He thought he saw a
 
   movement out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't be certain. He
 
   turned away as a precaution so that his face wouldn't be seen, and then
 
   took his time strolling back to Rebecca's compartment. The carpet had
 
   already absorbed the blood, and it looked as though the stains had been
 
   there for some time. No one would know how fresh they were unless he
 
   got down on his knees and felt the wetness.
 
 
 
   Donald remembered to bolt the door this time. Rebecca hadn't gotten
 
   dressed yet. Her clothes were laid out on the bench, and she was
 
   frantically shoving her torn garments into her valise. He grabbed hold
 
   of her from behind, slammed her up against the wall, and violently took
 
   her.
 
 
 
   No one heard her screams.
 
 
 
   _arting wasn't sweet sorrow, it was agony. Jessica looked as though
 
   her heart were being torn apart when she said goodbye to Caleb. She
 
   didn't shed a single tear, however, and neither did her son. Her
 
   departure didn't faze him, for he'd taken quite a liking to Josey and
 
   Tom Norton.
 
 
 
   He squirmed in Jessica's arms when she kissed him good-bye, couldn't be
 
   bothered with waving farewell, and didn't give his mama a backward
 
   glance when she walked out the doorway. He was busy wreaking havoc in
 
   Josey's kitchen.
 
 
 
   Jessica surprised Cole. He knew she wouldn't make a scene in front of
 
   the baby, but he expected her to cry and carry on as soon as they were
 
   outside. He even had an "it's for the best" lecture all ready. But
 
   Jessie didn't carry on. She remained solemn, but dry-eyed, throughout
 
   the journey.
 
 
 
   She deserved a reward for holding up so well. They'd pressed hard all
 
   day, only stopping twice to rest their horses for a short spell, and by
 
   sunset, she was clearly physically and emotionally spent.
 
 
 
   At dusk, he stopped his horse alongside hers and silently berated
 
   himself for pushing her so hard. She wasn't a skilled horsewoman, and
 
   the long ride must have been extremely difficult for her, yet she never
 
   once voiced a complaint.
 
 
 
   "We'll catch the train in Edwardsville tomorrow morning, " he said.
 
 
 
   "The town's about five miles south from here. I doubt we'll find fancy
 
   accommodations there, but you would be able to sleep in a bed, " he
 
   explained. "Or we could make a little detour and sleep outside by the
 
   waterfalls."
 
 
 
   "You aren't thinking about going back to Rockford Falls?
 
 
 
   " she asked, already shaking her head.
 
 
 
   "We're a long way from Rockford Falls, " he assured her. "The spot I'm
 
   thinking about has a little waterfall that spills into a clear, blue
 
   water basin. It's real secluded."
 
 
 
   "How much of a detour is it? " she asked tiredly. She pushed a strand
 
   of hair out of her eyes and noticed the dust on her hands. A bath
 
   sounded luxurious to her.
 
 
 
   "About a mile from here, " he said. "If we do sleep out, it means
 
   getting up a little earlier."
 
 
 
   "What would you like to do? " He always preferred sleeping out under
 
   the stars, away from the noise and crowds and congestion of a big town,
 
   but he wasn't going to sway Jessica. It was her choice, not his.
 
 
 
   "Whatever you decide is fine with me."
 
 
 
   "I'd love to have a bath."
 
 
 
   "I'm sure we can find a bath for you in Edwardsville."
 
 
 
   "But I'd rather sleep outside. Is it really secluded by the
 
   waterfall?
 
 
 
   " "Yeah, it is."
 
 
 
   "Then I'll be able to practice."
 
 
 
   "Practice what? " he asked.
 
 
 
   "You'll see, " she said. "I can't do it alone. You're going to have
 
   to help." He raised an eyebrow. "Does practice involve touching? "
 
   He was teasing her and fully expected to make her blush. She didn't,
 
   though. She agreed instead.
 
 
 
   "Oh, yes, you'll have to put your arms around me. At least I think you
 
   will. I'm not sure. I don't have any experience." He nudged his
 
   horse into a trot and led the way down a narrow slope.
 
 
 
   She was right behind him.
 
 
 
   His mind jumped from one licentious thought to another. What in
 
   thunder did she want to practice?
 
 
 
   He glanced back. "This practice . . . it requires seclusion? " She
 
   hid her smile. "Oh, yes, it does."
 
 
 
   "Why? " "Because I'm going to make a lot of noise. If there were
 
   other people around, I would be inhibited." He pulled back on the
 
   reins and waited for her to catch up to him. He could see the sparkle
 
   in her eyes and knew she was up to mischief.
 
 
 
   "You aren't talking about what I think you're talking about, are you?
 
 
 
   " She batted her eyelashes at him. He burst into laughter.
 
 
 
   "What do you think I'm talking about? " she asked innocently.
 
 
 
   "Sex."
 
 
 
   "No, " she blurted out before she too burst into laughter.
 
 
 
   "Men don't like to be teased, Jessie. Remember that." He took the
 
   lead once again. She trailed behind him just as she had for the last
 
   eight hours. She didn't say another word for a long while, until
 
   curiosity got the better of her.
 
 
 
   "Cole? " "Yes? " "Were you disappointed? " "About what? " "That I
 
   wasn't talking about sex."
 
 
 
   "No, " he snapped. "I wasn't." Her shoulders slumped, and she felt an
 
   acute wave of disappointment.
 
 
 
   "Then you never once thought about it. . . with me? " He couldn't
 
   believe they were having this conversation. Didn't she realize the
 
   effect she\was having on him? Probably not, he decided. It was
 
   apparent she was innocent, but she wouldn't be for long if she kept
 
   asking him such personal questions.
 
 
 
   "Yeah, I thought about it."
 
 
 
   "And? " "And what? It isn't gonna happen, Jessica."
 
 
 
   "No, of course not, " she hastily agreed. "But I've thought about it
 
   too, several times, as a matter of fact." He almost fell off his
 
   horse. "Will you stop talking about it? ! " "You don't have to yell
 
   at me. I was just being honest with you. You're very easy to talk to,
 
   at least you were until you got upset, and admitting that I've thought
 
   about making love to you isn't a crime.
 
 
 
   I'm not going to act on it. I wouldn't even know what to do."
 
 
 
   "Then I don't have to worry you'll do anything stupid."
 
 
 
   "Like what? " He didn't answer her. He swore he wasn't going to say
 
   another word, and he definitely wasn't going to look back at her, at
 
   least not until he had gotten rid of the notion of dragging her off her
 
   horse, pulling her clothes off, and making love to her.
 
 
 
   "I hope the water's warm, " she remarked.
 
 
 
   He hoped it was cold . . . icy cold.
 
 
 
   The last mile seemed like twenty to her, and by the time they finally
 
   arrived, she was bone weary.
 
 
 
   Cole helped her dismount. His hands stayed around her waist much
 
   longer than necessary, and she leaned into him, thankful for his
 
   assistance.
 
 
 
   Her legs were so shaky she was sure she would have fallen flat on her
 
   backside if he hadn't held on to her.
 
 
 
   She glanced up to thank him, noticed his clenched jaw, and quickly
 
   moved away from him. He was obviously still irritated by her
 
   inappropriate remarks.
 
 
 
   She decided to ignore him until he was in a better mood. Her
 
   surroundings enthralled her, for everything was so lush and green. She
 
   worked the stiffness out of her legs by walking along the bank of the
 
   basin. The waterfall wasn't anything like Rockford Falls. It was much
 
   smaller and not nearly as grand, yet just as enchanting. A steady
 
   stream of water poured across a jagged ledge above, and as it spilled
 
   into the pool below, the drops of water, like prisms, caught the
 
   sunlight and refracted it into a sparkling rainbow of colors.
 
 
 
   While Cole took care of their horses, she prepared their camp. After
 
   gathering sticks for the fire, she laid out their bedrolls and the
 
   picnic Josey had prepared for them.
 
 
 
   "Food's ready, " she called out.
 
 
 
   "I'll eat later, " he called back.
 
 
 
   He finished brushing the horses and let them graze on the sweet
 
   grass.
 
 
 
   The sound of the water rushing down the rocks was soothing and too
 
   enticing to resist, and while she ate, he went to the edge of the
 
   waterfall, stripped out of his clothes, and dove into the crystalline
 
   waters.
 
 
 
   The cold water did help him take his mind off of Jessica, and he was
 
   able to remember why he didn't want to touch her. Strings, he thought
 
   to himself. The woman was definitely desirable, but she came with
 
   strings.
 
 
 
   Besides, she wasn't the kind of woman a man could bed and leave. She
 
   deserved better than thatţsomeone better than he was, he qualified.
 
 
 
   Why, then, did he get so hot and bothered when he pictured her with
 
   another man? He had no right to be possessive, and yet that was
 
   exactly what he was.
 
 
 
   "Are you going to stay in the water all night? " The question pulled
 
   him out of his dark thoughts. He got out of the water, haphazardly
 
   dried himself off, and put on his pants. When he returned to camp, he
 
   moved their bedrolls closer to the rock ledge as a precaution in case
 
   of rain, restacked the kindling she'd collected, struck a match to
 
   light the fire, and then sat down on his bedroll to eat.
 
 
 
   Since he knew that Josey had prepared the food, he wasn't surprised it
 
   tasted terrible. Jessica hadn't complained about the taste, but from
 
   the amount of food left over, he knew she hadnwt eaten much.
 
 
 
   She did eat most of the peppermints Josey had packed. She was chewing
 
   on one while she gathered clean clothes, a towel, and soap. She
 
   removed her clothes, got into the water, and "-s l used the gently
 
   cascading waterfall as a screen to shield her from Cole.
 
 
 
   It was cold but not unbearable. She lifted her hair away from the nape
 
   of her neck and backed into the running water with her legs braced
 
   apart, her head back, and her eyes closed. The gentle massage soothe
 
   the tension out of her, and in no time at all she was completely
 
   relaxed. It was sheer heaven.
 
 
 
   He felt as if he were in purgatory, and he had no one to blame but
 
   himself. He shouldn't have been watching her bathe. It was wrong and
 
   intrusive. He couldn't make himself turn away, though, and if that
 
   made him a voyeur or a lecher, so be it. She was incredibly lovely.
 
 
 
   She stood waist high in the water, and her every movement was so
 
   sensual and graceful. He watched her lather her neck and arms, then he
 
   had to close his eyes while he battled the urge to dive into the water
 
   and join her.
 
 
 
   Maybe strings weren't so bad after all. He pushed the thought aside
 
   and opened his eyes again. The erotic scene was so compelling he could
 
   barely breathe. His entire body reacted, and every muscle felt hard
 
   and coiled with the need to touch her.
 
 
 
   His mind was flooded with one lustful intention after another, and he
 
   realized he was going to be in real trouble if he didn't control his
 
   thoughts soon. With a loud groan, he stretched out on his bedroll and
 
   stacked his hands behind his head. He was a light sleeper, and if she
 
   got into trouble or needed him, all she had to do was call out.
 
 
 
   He counted cattle, he counted sheep. Then he started counting the
 
   number of ways he wanted to make love to her.
 
 
 
   "Cole, are you asleep? " He didn't open his eyes when he answered
 
   her.
 
 
 
   "No."
 
 
 
   "Is something wrong? You sound hoarse."
 
 
 
   "I'm fine. What do you want? " "I wanted to know if it would bother
 
   you if I made noise.
 
 
 
   " "Doing what? " "Target practice." He sat up and spotted the gun in
 
   her lap. "Where did you get that? " "Tom Norton gave it to me. "
 
   "Put it away."
 
 
 
   "I want to learn to shoot with some degree of accuracy."
 
 
 
   "No, you don't."
 
 
 
   "I'm going to learn how to protect myself. I don't particularly like
 
   guns, and I had hoped never to own one, but the Blackwater gang changed
 
   everything. I'm responsible for taking care of myself and my son, and
 
   I'm not going to let anyone hurt us."
 
 
 
   "Dry your hair and go to sleep." She pushed a wet strand of hair over
 
   her shoulder, then opened the box of bullets Tom had purchased for her,
 
   and began to load the gun.
 
 
 
   He tried not to get mad as he watched her shoot at an impossible
 
   target. She was driving him nuts because she kept making the same
 
   mistakes over and over again, and when he simply couldn't stand it a
 
   second longer, he got up.
 
 
 
   He came up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her
 
   up against him, then took hold of her hand that held the gun.
 
 
 
   "Exactly what are you shooting at? " he demanded.
 
 
 
   "The tree straight ahead. What did you think I was shooting at? " she
 
   asked.
 
 
 
   "The stars. You're too high, sugar." He spent the next twenty minutes
 
   teaching her, and, honest to Pete, he hated every second of it.
 
 
 
   She shouldn't have to be learning such a skill. She should be in a
 
   parlor somewhere sipping tea while Caleb played at her feet. She was a
 
   lady, and ladies didn't carry guns.
 
 
 
   He made the mistake of giving her his opinions. She vehemently
 
   disagreed. "I've admitted I don't like the idea of carrying a gun, but
 
   I'm going to until every one of the Blackwater gang has been captured,
 
   and if that means I'm no longer a lady, so be it."
 
 
 
   "You sure are pretty when you're angry. Your eyes sparkle."
 
 
 
   "A lot of women carry weapons for . . . What did you say? " She
 
   turned her head to look at him and bumped into his chin. "I said
 
   you're pretty, " he repeated.
 
 
 
   He rattled her with the compliment. "Thank you, " she stammered before
 
   looking away so that she could concentrate.
 
 
 
   "Women who live in the Wild West must carry guns because there are all
 
   sorts of . . . What are you doing? " He had bent down and was
 
   nuzzling her neck. "I'm kissing you, but don't let me interrupt your
 
   tirade. You were saying? " "There are wild animals . . . like bears
 
   and other predators . . . and . . . " She paused to sigh, then tilted
 
   her head to one side so he would have more room to explore the side of
 
   her neck. The sweet warmth of his breath against her felt wonderful
 
   and made her shiver. She knew she should stop him from taking such
 
   liberties, and she would do just that, she promised herself, in just a
 
   little while.
 
 
 
   "Predators? " he asked when she didn't continue.
 
 
 
   "Yes, there are lots of predators."
 
 
 
   "Where? " She had lost her train of thought. "I don't know. . .
 
 
 
   somewhere." He laughed softly. "I'm getting to you, aren't I? " He
 
   asked the question as he slowly turned her in his arms and lowered his
 
   head so that he could give her a proper kiss. His body had other
 
   ideas. The second she put her arms around his neck, he roughly pulled
 
   her up against him until her breasts were pressed against his chest,
 
   and hungrily kissed her. His mouth took complete possession of hers,
 
   his tongue penetrated, and for long breathless minutes he made love to
 
   her with his mouth. Her body fit his perfectly, as though she had been
 
   made just for him. She was so sweet and sensual and loving.
 
 
 
   And innocent. The reminder helped him regain his senses. He couldn't
 
   quite make himself let go of her, but he did let her catch her
 
   breath.
 
 
 
   Gently tugging on her lower lip with his teeth so she would open her
 
   mouth again, he kissed hard and thoroughly, and then released her.
 
 
 
   She wouldn't let go of him. Trembling with desire, she kissed him with
 
   all the pent-up passion and longing inside her. She became the
 
   aggressor, imitating the erotic way that he had kissed her, timidly at
 
   first and then boldly when he wrapped her in his arms again. He
 
   growled low in his throat when her tongue touched his.
 
 
 
   God, she was sweet. She tasted like candy. Her abandon shook him, and
 
   he knew that if he persisted, he could overwhelm her senses and make
 
   love to her. She was too innocent to think about consequences.
 
 
 
   One of them had to think about tomorrow, and he knew it was up to him
 
   to stop now.
 
 
 
   He pulled her arms away from his neck and took a step away from her.
 
 
 
   "I shouldn't have done that, " he said gruffly.
 
 
 
   Dazed, she watched him walk away. "I'm glad you did, " she
 
   whispered.
 
 
 
   "I wanted to know what it would feel like . . . " He turned back to
 
   her. "I'm not an experiment, Jessica." She could see the anger in his
 
   eyes and in his stance. She took a step toward him, then stopped.
 
 
 
   "No, you're not. It's just that I've wanted to kiss you for a long
 
   time."
 
 
 
   "Yeah, well, it isn't going to happen again."
 
 
 
   "Why not? " He couldn't believe she had to ask. "You do know what
 
   kissing leads to, don't you? " She slowly nodded. "I'm pretty sure I
 
   do, but since I've never . . . " He cut her off, for the topic was
 
   making him ache with his need to touch her again, and if he did that,
 
   he knew he wouldn't stop.
 
 
 
   "We're just going to have to stay away from each other. You got
 
   that?
 
 
 
   " She nodded, then shook her head. "How in heaven's name are we going
 
   to be able to do that? We're traveling together."
 
 
 
   "Just keep your hands to yourself." After giving her the command, he
 
   laughed harshly.
 
 
 
   Never before had he said those words to a woman, and he couldn't
 
   believe he'd said them to Jessica.
 
 
 
   It's the damned badge, he thought to himself. It had made him noble.
 
 
 
   She folded her hands. "If that's what you want, I shall of course be
 
   happy to accommodate you." He was suddenly furious with her. "No,
 
   that's not what I want. I want to take your clothes off, toss you down
 
   on the ground, and do all the things I've been dreaming about." Her
 
   eyes widened. "You dreamed about me? " "Let it go, Jessie."
 
 
 
   "I dreamed about you too. Cole do you want to make love to me? " "No,
 
   not make love, " he corrected. "Have sex. Do you understand the
 
   difference? If we had sex, tomorrow morning you would realize the
 
   mistake you'd made and you'd live with that regret for the rest of your
 
   life." She could feel the anger building inside her. "And you?
 
 
 
   Would you realize it was a mistake? " "Yeah, I would."
 
 
 
   "Would you also live with regret the rest of your life? " "I'd regret
 
   all right, but not for long. Now do you get it? It wouldn't mean all
 
   that much to me." She spotted the empty gun on the ground, picked it
 
   up, and marched past Cole.
 
 
 
   "Of all the arrogant . . . " "I'm being honest, Jessie. Most men
 
   would lie to get a woman like you in bed."
 
 
 
   "A woman like me? " He followed her to the campfire. "Yeah, " he
 
   said. "Like you . . .
 
 
 
   innocent and pure and sexy as hell. With your fine body, you can't
 
   afford to be naive. It's dangerous and stupid."
 
 
 
   "So now I'm stupid?
 
 
 
   Being inexperienced doesn't mean I'm stupid." She dropped the gun in
 
   the bedroll and stood there glaring at him.
 
 
 
   "Answer one question for me, and then we'll never discuss this topic
 
   again."
 
 
 
   "What? " "What makes you so certain that I would live with the regret
 
   the rest of my life? Is it because I'm a woman, or is it because I'm
 
   stupid? " "Are you telling me you wouldn't regret it? " She didn't
 
   answer him. "Sure you would, " he decided. "Women want strings."
 
 
 
   "Strings? " "Commitment, " he explained. "Men don't."
 
 
 
   "Then all those married men were hog-tied and dragged to the altar? "
 
   He thought the image fit perfectly. "Yeah, they probably were."
 
 
 
   "Was your brother-in-law forced into marrying your sister? " He'd
 
   forgotten he'd told her about his family. "Mary Rose and Harrison? "
 
   Before she could say another word, he shook his head. "Harrison wanted
 
   to marry her." She sat down and began to untie her shoelaces. He
 
   stood there watching her while he tried to figure out how they had
 
   gotten into such an intense discussion.
 
 
 
   "Look, Jessie, all I'm saying is that . . . " "You don't want
 
   strings.
 
 
 
   " "Exactly." He almost shouted the word.
 
 
 
   "Brace yourself, Cole. I don't want strings either, " she whispered.
 
 
 
   "I don't want to get married, and I'm never going to, " she added with
 
   a nod.
 
 
 
   "You'll get married one of these days, " he predicted, and immediately
 
   frowned over the possibility.
 
 
 
   "Because life would be easier? " He stretched out on the bedroll and
 
   stared at the stars while he considered his answer.
 
 
 
   "Yeah, it would be easier, and it would also be good for Caleb to have
 
   a father around."
 
 
 
   "My son and I don't need a man to make our family complete. Oh, you
 
   make me so angry, Cole. You're like the majority of people I've
 
   encountered who want to push their expectations and beliefs on me."
 
 
 
   "It's difficult to be a single mother."
 
 
 
   "I know how difficult it is, but I'm happy . . . genuinely happy, and
 
   if I married someone just to gain respectability, I'd be miserable and
 
   would have no one to blame but myself."
 
 
 
   "Respectability? What does that have to do with anything? " "Never
 
   mind."
 
 
 
   "You brought it up. Tell me what you meant."
 
 
 
   "As soon as strangers find out I'm not married and never have been,
 
   they assume I had Caleb out of wedlock, and then . . . " He prodded
 
   her to continue. "Then what? " "They're compelled to make sure I know
 
   exactly how they feel about it." He was watching her closely. "How do
 
   they do that? Give me an example." She shrugged and tried to pretend
 
   that all the hurt she'd suffered had barely mattered to her. "When
 
   Grace and I went shopping for supplies, a woman slapped me across the
 
   face when she found out I'd never been married.
 
 
 
   I had Caleb with me, and when she asked who he belonged to, Grace told
 
   her he was my son." Cole was outraged by the incident. "What did you
 
   do? " "I took Caleb outside."
 
 
 
   "I'm sorry you didn't punch her." She smiled. "I wanted to, but I
 
   didn't give in to my urge because it wouldn't have been ladylike, and I
 
   had Caleb with me. I didn't want him to see his mother behave in such
 
   a manner. Grace took care of her, though, " she added. She put her
 
   hand over her mouth and giggled. "It was a sight to see. I watched
 
   her through the window." He smiled in anticipation of what she was
 
   going to tell him. "What did she do? " "She snatched up a ruler from
 
   the counter and backed the woman against the wall. She didn't hit her,
 
   but she blistered her all the same with her lecture, and by the time
 
   she was done, the woman was crying. It was ridiculous really. Grace
 
   was half the other woman's size. Later, we laughed about it."
 
 
 
   "But it still hurt, didn't it? " She didn't answer him. "Grace is the
 
   first real friend I've ever had, " she whispered. "I would do anything
 
   for her."
 
 
 
   "And she would do anything for you, wouldn't she? " "Yes, she would, "
 
   she agreed. "Do you have any close friends? " "My family, " he
 
   answered. "I'm close to my brothers. They drive me crazy sometimes,
 
   but I'd kill anyone who tried to hurt them." She couldn't imagine
 
   having siblings and pleaded with him to tell her what his life had been
 
   like growing up in such a large family. She was clearly astounded to
 
   find out that his brothers and sister and mother weren't blood
 
   relatives.
 
 
 
   He spent over an hour talking about his growing up years, sharing both
 
   humorous and poignant stories with her. The warmth in his eyes and his
 
   voice indicated the love he felt for his family, and by the time he
 
   finished, she ached with her own loneliness. She yearned to belong .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   . and to be loved.
 
 
 
   "We joined together to become a family, " Cole said. "And never once
 
   did I think any of them would run out on me. That's what you think
 
   always happens, though, don't you? " "Experience has taught me not to
 
   trust anyone else."
 
 
 
   "What about your friend Grace? " "Oh, I trust her implicitly."
 
 
 
   "And Rebecca? " "I don't know her well, but I could probably trust
 
   her, I suppose.
 
 
 
   She's been very kind to Caleb and me."
 
 
 
   "The three of you have been loyal to one another."
 
 
 
   "Neither one of them jumped to the conclusion that Caleb was
 
   illegitimate, " she pointed out. She sat up and stretched her arms
 
   over her head to work out the tension.
 
 
 
   "I've decided that when Grace and I get to Denver, if anyone asks, I'm
 
   going to tell them I'm widowed."
 
 
 
   "One lie will only lead to another and another, " he told her. "Look
 
   at the mess the three of you have gotten into by lying about being a
 
   witness. If all of you had simply stepped forward and told the truth
 
   before the reporter made you front-page news, your life would have been
 
   far less complicated. The judge wouldn't have insisted that Daniel and
 
   I haul you and Grace and Rebecca to Blackwater. I imagine you and
 
   Grace would already be in Denver."
 
 
 
   "I told you I was the witness, " she reminded him. "Grace and Rebecca
 
   are going to Blackwater? " "They're on their way now." She was
 
   flabbergasted. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? " "You were about to
 
   leave your son. You had enough to worry about, " he said.
 
 
 
   "Why does this judge want all three of us? I told you I was the
 
   witness."
 
 
 
   "Yeah, well, so did Grace and Rebecca."
 
 
 
   "But that can't be, " she nearly shouted.
 
 
 
   "All three of you have come forward to tell us that you were there
 
   hiding under the desk."
 
 
 
   "No."
 
 
 
   "Yes, " he countered.
 
 
 
   "No wonder you didn't believe me. You wouldn't let me tell you what
 
   happened. I did try."
 
 
 
   "I didn't want to hear any more lies." She took a calming breath and
 
   tried not to get angry, for he had every right to doubt her. She had
 
   lied to him in the past.
 
 
 
   "Why would Grace and Rebecca say they were there? " "You tell me. "
 
   She thought about it a long while before venturing a guess. "Grace
 
   must feel she has to protect me . . . She knows I'd do the same for
 
   her, but I still don't understand why Rebecca would lie."
 
 
 
   "She didn't lie, Jessie. She is our witness. Now go to sleep. I'm
 
   tired, and I'm not in the mood to argue." She lay down and rolled to
 
   her side so she could stare at the fire. Her mind was filled with
 
   questions. Cole had sounded so certain Rebecca was the witness, and
 
   she couldn't figure out why.
 
 
 
   "Cole? " "Now what? " "I saw the man on the roof of the building in
 
   Rockford Falls. . . . He killed Mr. York, and I tried to shoot him,
 
   but I dropped the gun."
 
 
 
   "I remember. What about him? " "I've seen him before, and I
 
   recognized him." He let out a weary sigh. "Where'd you see him? "
 
   "In the bank. His name is Johnson. Mr. Johnson. I watched him kill
 
   those innocent people." CJ he told him everything.
 
 
 
   She remembered every word that was spoken, every laugh, every scream.
 
 
 
   As she related the sequence of events to him, beginning with her untied
 
   shoelace, she remained dry-eyed and calm. Too calm, Cole thought, for
 
   her voice was completely devoid of emotion. He didn't ask her any
 
   questions, and when she was finished, she got up and walked to the
 
   lake.
 
 
 
   He didn't know if she wanted to be alone or not, but it didn't matter
 
   to him because he was compelled to go to her. She stood with her arms
 
   folded at her waist, her stance was rigid, and when he tried to put his
 
   arm around her, she jerked away.
 
 
 
   "Don't." Ignoring her protest, he moved in front of her, blocking her
 
   view of the lake, and forcefully pulled her into his arms.
 
 
 
   "I don't need you to comfort me, " she said angrily, and it was the
 
   first show of emotion he'd heard since she'd told him the truth. He
 
   was glad of it and continued to hug her tightly.
 
 
 
   "But I need to, " he said softly.
 
 
 
   She struggled to get away, and Cole finally let go.
 
 
 
   "You don't understand. I was such a coward. I should have done
 
   something, but I didn't do anything. I let it happen. I watched. "
 
   She took a deep breath in an attempt to control herself and put her
 
   hand out to ward him off when he took a step toward her.
 
 
 
   "Okay, I'll agree with you if you want me to, " he said. "You should
 
   have done something to prevent it. Now, tell me, what should you have
 
   done? " She shook her head. "I don't know. I was so scared I
 
   couldn't think. My God, when they first rushed into the bank, I was
 
   worried about my stupid money. I should have . . . " "What? " he
 
   persisted. "What could you have done? You could have died with
 
   Franklin and the others. Is that what you feel guilty about? That you
 
   survived and they didn't? Do you think you should have crawled out
 
   from your hiding place and knelt down with the others and let them kill
 
   you too? " "No, but maybe . . . if I had screamed, someone outside
 
   might have heard . . . " "Enough." He roughly pulled her into his
 
   arms again and was pleased because she didn't fight him this time.
 
 
 
   "You couldn't have done anything."
 
 
 
   "You would have, " she whispered against his chest.
 
 
 
   "Yeah, maybe I would have, " he allowed. "If I had had a gun, but I
 
   would have died. I couldn't have gotten all of them."
 
 
 
   "But you would have tried. I didn't."
 
 
 
   "Did you have a weapon to use against all of them? " "No, butţ" "There
 
   wasn't a damned thing you could do, and somewhere in that head of yours
 
   you know that's true." Trembling, she wrapped her arms around him and
 
   held tight. "I want . .
 
 
 
   . " "What, sweetheart? " he asked as he leaned down and kissed the top
 
   of her head.
 
 
 
   She tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes. She needed his
 
   strength tonight, and she desperately needed his comfort . . . and his
 
   love.
 
 
 
   "You should get some sleep, " he told her as he gently lifted her into
 
   his arms and carried her back to the campfire. He laid her down and
 
   knelt beside her, frowning at her with worry.
 
 
 
   "You're going to be all right." He said the words, not so much to
 
   convince her, but to convince himself.
 
 
 
   He started to turn away then, but she grabbed hold of his hand. "Sleep
 
   with me, " she whispered.
 
 
 
   Outwardly he didn't show any reaction to her plea. Inwardly his heart
 
   felt as though it had just fallen to the pit of his stomach.
 
 
 
   "No, " he answered, his voice harsh, his need to touch her almost
 
   overwhelming.
 
 
 
   In the firelight, her hair had turned a vibrant red, and all he could
 
   think about was threading his fingers through the silky mass and coming
 
   down on top of her sweet, soft body. . . .
 
 
 
   "It's out of the question."
 
 
 
   "Just for a little while, " she begged.
 
 
 
   "I don't want to be alone."
 
 
 
   "You're not alone. I'm two feet away.
 
 
 
   I'm telling you it's not a good idea."
 
 
 
   "Why not? " "You want me to spell it out for you? Fine. I want to
 
   stay with you, but I sure don't want to sleep."
 
 
 
   "You want to make love to me."
 
 
 
   "Hell, yes." His eyes had turned a deep intense blue, and the hand she
 
   held had turned into a fist. "I don't want you to do anything you
 
   don't want to do." She let go of him and rolled to her side, away from
 
   him. "Good night.
 
 
 
   " He didn't move. He knelt there, fighting a silent war for what
 
   seemed an eternity before he finally gave in.
 
 
 
   He stretched out beside her, closed his eyes, and tried to pretend she
 
   wasn't there.
 
 
 
   No matter what, he vowed, he wouldn't touch her. Granted, a man had
 
   only so much discipline and she was definitely pushing him to his
 
   limit, but she didn't realize what she was doing to him. She needed
 
   him, though not in the physical way he wanted or needed her, he
 
   reminded himself. She was feeling all alone and craved human
 
   contact.
 
 
 
   She was killing him. Her hair tickled his nose. Just as he was
 
   brushing the silky strands away, she lifted up and pulled his arm under
 
   her so that her head was pillowed against him. She smelled like roses
 
   tonight, and he was suddenly reminded of home. That was it, he
 
   decided. He'd think about all the things he wanted to get done when he
 
   got back to Rosehill.
 
 
 
   He couldn't come up with a single chore.
 
 
 
   "Five minutes, Jessie. I'm only staying with you for five minutes. "
 
   He grimaced over the sound of his voice.
 
 
 
   She obviously wasn't upset by his gruff manner. She scooted against
 
   him, until her back was pressed against his chest and her bottom
 
   cuddled his groin.
 
 
 
   A cold sweat broke out on his brow. This was hell, he decided, to be
 
   so near the woman he craved and not be able to touch her. His only
 
   saving grace was the thought that it couldn't possibly get any worse.
 
 
 
   He was wrong about that. She wiggled against him and a bolt of white
 
   hot longing shot through him.
 
 
 
   "Don't move, " he ordered. "Just go to sleep." Evidently unaffected
 
   by his harshness, she reached up to grab hold of his hand and pull his
 
   arm around her waist. He couldn't stop himself from tightening his
 
   hold and snuggling closer. His hand rested beneath the swell of her
 
   breasts, and all he had to do was spread his fingers and touch her soft
 
   . . .
 
 
 
   The erotic picture was interrupted when she tried to turn in his
 
   arms.
 
 
 
   He had promised her five minutes. He must have been out of his mind,
 
   but he had given his word, and so he began to count off the seconds.
 
 
 
   Heaven help him, if he lasted one full minute without kissing her, he
 
   figured he could last a lifetime.
 
 
 
   He wanted a lifetime with her.
 
 
 
   The admission stunned him. He realized he'd been ignoring the truth
 
   for a long time, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd known, and
 
   accepted. He could even name the moment he knew he loved her. It was
 
   when that bastard, Johnson, was on the roof with his rifle trying to
 
   kill her. Cole had never felt such rage before. As he raced toward
 
   her, thinking he wouldn't be able to get to her in time, the
 
   possibility of losing her had scared the hell out of him. In the
 
   aftermath, he'd been so shaken with fear, he'd reacted with anger, not
 
   love.
 
 
 
   If this was true love, he wanted no part of it. Yet he didn't want to
 
   ever let go of her.
 
 
 
   It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to kiss her
 
   shoulder, the side of her neck, her ear. He kept telling himself to
 
   stop this torment, but his senses were already responding. She smelled
 
   so good and felt so soft.
 
 
 
   Had five minutes gone by? Maybe she'd gone to sleep, he thought
 
   desperately, and he clung to that hope like a man hanging from a rope
 
   on the side of a cliff.
 
 
 
   She tried to turn in his arms again. "Don't move, " he whispered.
 
 
 
   "I want to kiss you good night." His heart soared at her shyly
 
   whispered request. "No, " he snapped.
 
 
 
   "Please? " He sighed into her hair. "If you kiss me, I swear I won't
 
   stop. Now leave me alone and go to sleep." He made a mockery of his
 
   own ultimatum by nuzzling her neck again. He loved the feel of her
 
   skin against his mouth. He loved the little sound she made in the back
 
   of her throat, like a gasp but not quite.
 
 
 
   Jessica stayed perfectly still for several heartbeats, and when she
 
   slowly turned in his arms, she knew exactly what she was doing and what
 
   it would lead to. Heedless of the consequences, she stroked the side
 
   of his face, stared into his beautiful eyes, and then slipped her hand
 
   behind his neck.
 
 
 
   "I want this one night with you . . . just one night."
 
 
 
   "Jessica, " he whispered, his voice filled with anguish, "you don't
 
   know what you're saying. . . . Tomorrow, you'll regret . . . " "I
 
   need you, Cole. Love me tonight." He couldn't be noble any longer.
 
 
 
   He sought her mouth hungrily, desperate with his desire to make her
 
   completely his.
 
 
 
   For long minutes he made love to her with his mouth as his hand cupped
 
   her breast through her clothing. She was tugging at the buttons on his
 
   shirt.
 
 
 
   He buried his face in her hair. "Slow down, sweetheart, " he
 
   whispered.
 
 
 
   "Or I'll . . . " He wanted the first time to be perfect for her, but
 
   her eagerness so excited him he was finding it impossible to follow his
 
   own instructions.
 
 
 
   His hands shook as he roughly removed her clothes, and when he pulled
 
   the straps of her chemise down over her shoulders and saw her beautiful
 
   breasts, he let out a groan. The pain of wanting her for so long
 
   blended with the sheer ecstasy he felt as he slowly came down on top of
 
   her, her smooth skin against his.
 
 
 
   Her gasp of pleasure drove him wild. Her caresses became as bold as
 
   his, and when her nails scored the back of his thighs, the feeling was
 
   so exquisite, he thought he would die from it.
 
 
 
   He wanted to kiss every inch of her body, and he did exactly that,
 
   spurred on by her cries of pleasure. When his hand slipped between her
 
   thighs, she tried to push him away, but he wouldn't be denied and
 
   within seconds was richly rewarded when she begged him not to stop.
 
 
 
   Her passionate response equaled his own. He kissed her navel, smiling
 
   when she inhaled sharply, then moved lower to taste all of her.
 
 
 
   "Now, Cole, " she cried out.
 
 
 
   She was more than ready to receive him, but he wanted to prolong the
 
   blissful agony until he had so overwhelmed her she wouldn't notice the
 
   pain of his invasion.
 
 
 
   She was writhing in his arms as he knelt between her thighs. "Look at
 
   me, " he demanded, his voice shaky with raw passion.
 
 
 
   "This is forever."
 
 
 
   "Please . . . " "Say it, " he demanded, his eyes piercing hers as he
 
   waited.
 
 
 
   "Forever, " she cried out.
 
 
 
   His mouth claimed hers for another searing kiss as he moved to make her
 
   his completely. His invasion was gentle but swift, as he thrust
 
   forward, he buried his head in her fragrant hair and closed his eyes in
 
   surrender.
 
 
 
   She was exactly as he had fantasized she would be. . . perfect. He
 
   heard her cry, knew he'd hurt her, and stilled inside her, giving her
 
   time to adjust to him. He whispered loving words, but he was so out of
 
   his mind with his own raging need he didn't know if he was making any
 
   sense at all.
 
 
 
   How could anything hurt like this and feel so wonderful at the same
 
   time? Beyond control, she wanted to tell him to stop, but she didn't
 
   want him to leave her.
 
 
 
   "It'll be all right in a minute, " he promised her.
 
 
 
   He sounded out of breath. Then she realized she was panting. She
 
   wrapped her arms around his neck, and the slight movement caused a
 
   burst of pleasure to rush through her. She moved again, heard his
 
   groan, and realized then he liked it as much as she did.
 
 
 
   He slowly withdrew and then just as slowly moved forward again.
 
 
 
   "Will you stop teasing me? " she cried out.
 
 
 
   His laugh was throaty. "I'm trying to be gentle."
 
 
 
   "Stop it, " she begged. "I want . . . " He silenced her with another
 
   kiss and then began to move again inside of her. Her passion shook
 
   him. He had never been with a woman who was so honest and open with
 
   her desire, and the fact that she gave herself to him willingly and
 
   with love in her heart was surely the reason he completely let go of
 
   his control.
 
 
 
   Determined to make their loving last as long as possible, he tried to
 
   slow the pace. She made it impossible, and when she arched up against
 
   him, the fire surged between them.
 
 
 
   Their lovemaking was wild, free, beyond anything he had ever
 
   experienced before. He felt her tighten around him, heard her call his
 
   name, and as she found her own fulfillment, he thrust deep and gave in
 
   to his own.
 
 
 
   His surrender was complete, body, heart, and soul. He collapsed on top
 
   of her but couldn't find enough strength to move.
 
 
 
   She was quietly crying. He felt her hot tears on his shoulder and
 
   finally lifted his head to look at her.
 
 
 
   "I hurt you, didn't I, sweetheart? " He was filled with self-loathing,
 
   condemned himself for being too rough, too savage in his own desire.
 
 
 
   It was her first experience, and he should have been more careful, much
 
   more tender . . .
 
 
 
   "Jessie, say something." His anxiety pulled her out of her daze. She
 
   opened her eyes and. looked into his, and the warmth she saw there
 
   made her tremble with a burst of love.
 
 
 
   "Oh, no, you didn't . . . Well, you did, but it didn't . . . It was
 
   .
 
 
 
   . . amazing." He grinned with arrogant satisfaction. God, he loved
 
   her face. Her eyes were still glazed with passion, her mouth was red
 
   and swollen from his kisses. She looked thoroughly sated and pleased
 
   with herself, and how could he not love such a woman?
 
 
 
   "Yeah, it was pretty amazing." He reluctantly moved away from her.
 
 
 
   "But . . . " She put her hand over his mouth. "Don't, " she
 
   whispered.
 
 
 
   "No regrets."
 
 
 
   "No regrets, " he agreed.
 
 
 
   She rolled into his arms then and laid her head on his shoulder.
 
 
 
   Nothing lasted forever.
 
 
 
   She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't cry. How she wanted to
 
   believe him. No, he did love her, she knew, until tomorrow or the day
 
   after or the year after, but eventually, inevitably, he would leave.
 
 
 
   "I love you too, " she whispered. Until forever.
 
 
 
   She had seduced him. Jessica stood by the water's edge and let the
 
   truth sink in. The acknowledgment was promptly followed by another
 
   truth just as shocking. She wasn't sorry. For the rest of her life
 
   she would have the memory of his touch and his loving words to cherish
 
   and hold dear. It would have to be enough.
 
 
 
   He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed
 
   her shoulder.
 
 
 
   He knew something was wrong the minute he touched her, for he felt her
 
   stiffen against him.
 
 
 
   "Tell me what's wrong."
 
 
 
   "It's morning. That's what's wrong."
 
 
 
   "No, you're supposed to say, good morning, not, it's morning, " he
 
   explained as he turned her in his arms.
 
 
 
   She avoided his mouth when he tried to kiss her.
 
 
 
   "All right, Jessie. What's this all about? " "Last night . . . "
 
   When she didn't continue, he tilted her face up toward him so he could
 
   gauge her mood. She was clearly upset, and he thought he knew why.
 
 
 
   "You're regretting what happened, aren't you? " She vehemently shook
 
   her head. "No, I meant what I said last night.
 
 
 
   I'll never have regrets." He jerked her up against him and tried to
 
   kiss her again, but she turned her head away, and he ended up kissing
 
   her ear.
 
 
 
   "Please don't make this any more difficult than it already is, " she
 
   pleaded. "We had last night."
 
 
 
   "We have forever." She stared at his collarbone and tried to stay
 
   determined in her decision. {We should leave now. We'll miss the
 
   train if we don't hurry." He didn't move.
 
 
 
   He simply stood there, holding her, while he patiently waited for her
 
   to look up at him again. "We aren't going anywhere until you tell me
 
   what's going on inside that head of yours."
 
 
 
   "We had last night, Cole, but now we have to . . . move on." It
 
   finally dawned on him what was happening. "You don't believe I meant
 
   any of the things I said to you last night, do you? That's what this
 
   is all about. You think I told you I loved you so you'd let me touch
 
   you."
 
 
 
   "I wanted you, and you wanted me. It was a mutual decision."
 
 
 
   "Yes, it was."
 
 
 
   "And I have no regrets. I don't expect a commitment from you, and I'm
 
   not giving you one." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are
 
   you telling me you don't want any strings? " "Yes."
 
 
 
   "Son of aţ" She turned away and ran to the horses. Cole followed her,
 
   grabbed her from behind, and lifted her into the saddle.
 
 
 
   He noticed her grimace and asked, "Are you going to be all right riding
 
   today? " "Yes, of course."
 
 
 
   "Jessie, I know I hurt you last night."
 
 
 
   "But I'm fine now." Her blush took some of his anger away. She was so
 
   sweet and loving and exasperating. His hand rested on her thigh.
 
 
 
   "Will you please look at me? " She slowly lifted her gaze. The
 
   tenderness in his eyes tested her determination. She wanted to throw
 
   herself into his arms and never let go.
 
 
 
   "Yes? " she asked quietly.
 
 
 
   "Do you love me? " He squeezed her thigh until she finally answered
 
   him. "I won't lie to you, Cole. Yes, I do love you, butţ" He cut her
 
   off. "How many other men have you told you loved them? " "I haven't
 
   told any other man that I love him." He grinned. "Good. That's all I
 
   wanted to know." There was a definite swagger in his gait as he walked
 
   away. She watched him swing up into his saddle. He took the reins,
 
   rode to her side, and then, before she could ward him off, his hand was
 
   behind her neck and he was pulling her toward him. His mouth took
 
   absolute possession, his tongue thrust inside, and he kissed her
 
   passionately.
 
 
 
   When he finally lifted his head and saw the bemused look in her eyes,
 
   he nodded with satisfaction. "Listen to me, woman. That's how I want
 
   to be kissed every morning. I want a whole lot more than that, but
 
   we'll start with a kiss."
 
 
 
   "For how long, Cole? " She didn't realize she'd spoken the thought
 
   aloud until he answered her.
 
 
 
   "For the rest of our lives, and yours is going to be real short if you
 
   keep having such crazy thoughts."
 
 
 
   "You can't possibly know what I'm thinking."
 
 
 
   "Sure I can, " he boasted. "It's like looking in a mirror." He shook
 
   his head in self-deprecation. "My brother Adam used to tell me I'd get
 
   it all back."
 
 
 
   "Get what back? " "My attitude, " he answered. "I'm the one who never
 
   wanted any strings, and it's galling to know you feel the same way."
 
 
 
   "I do feel that way, " she cried out.
 
 
 
   "All you're doing is striking first."
 
 
 
   "And what does that mean? " "You're so certain I'll leave you, you're
 
   taking action first and leaving me. Isn't that right? " He wouldn't
 
   give her time to answer, but plunged ahead. "Well, I've got news for
 
   you, baby. That isn't going to happen. I'm not going anywhere, and
 
   neither are you. I meant what I said. It's forever, Jessie, and I
 
   seem to recall you gave me the same promise." She didn't believe she
 
   could be any more miserable than she was at this very moment. Memory
 
   served her well, and she knew that even the most fervent promises were
 
   empty. He loved her now, yes, but in time he would change his mind.
 
 
 
   "I don't want you to stay with me because of what happened. I asked
 
   you for one single night, and you gave me that."
 
 
 
   "Are you going to thank me now? " His tone suggested she not comply.
 
 
 
   "It's time to go.
 
 
 
   " "You're trying my patience, " he whispered.
 
 
 
   He didn't say another word to her for almost an hour. He kept looking
 
   back over his shoulder to make sure she was all right, and she noticed
 
   that his expression grew more hostile with each glance.
 
 
 
   She knew she had hurt him, but it was for the best to end it now. She
 
   told herself she was simply protecting herself and her son, because if
 
   she opened her heart to him, she would be giving him the power to
 
   destroy her. She couldn't take that chance. Yet, thinking about life
 
   without him made her miserable, and she didn't know what to do to stop
 
   the ache. She hated being afraid, and loving Cole terrified her
 
   because it meant she would have to trust him.
 
 
 
   Why, oh, why, hadn't she considered all the ramifications before she
 
   attacked the man? Because, she wanted to know what it felt like to be
 
   loved. Dear God, what had she done?
 
 
 
   "Jessie, we did it all wrong." She stared at his back, her heart
 
   already shattering, while she waited for him to tell her he had finally
 
   come to his senses.
 
 
 
   He didn't turn around as he explained, but took the lead down the last
 
   slope that led into the town where they would catch the train.
 
 
 
   "We had our wedding night before our wedding. We just did it
 
   backwards, that's all. If there's time, we'll fix that when we get to
 
   town."
 
 
 
   "How do you plan to do that? " "Find a preacher." Her mouth dropped
 
   open. "I'm not marrying you."
 
 
 
   "I'm not asking."
 
 
 
   "Good, because I . . . " "I'm telling you we're getting married. You
 
   made that decision when you gave yourself to me last night." He let
 
   her hear the anger in his voice, but he was careful not to let her know
 
   how worried he was. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought
 
   he was scared. Loving her shook him to the core, and he didn't know
 
   how to make her understand that his love was real . . . and forever.
 
 
 
   "Caleb . . . " "I'll be a good father."
 
 
 
   "I won't subject him to heartache. He'll become attached to you, and
 
   then . . . " She didn't go on because of the scathing look he shot her
 
   over his shoulder.
 
 
 
   "There's something I think you'd better know about me."
 
 
 
   "What's that?
 
 
 
   " she asked.
 
 
 
   "I always win." ţthe one hundred twenty-three passengers on the train
 
   headed south, only one person happened to be looking out the window at
 
   the precise second that Marshal Cooper was thrown over the trestle into
 
   the water, but one passenger was quite enough. Mildred Sparrow, a spry
 
   woman of advanced years and a sedentary disposition, was seated on a
 
   hard wooden bench in the rear car with her husband, George, at her
 
   side. He was slumped against her, sound asleep, and was using her
 
   shoulder as a pillow.
 
 
 
   Mildred was quietly admiring the lovely view one second and screaming
 
   like a madwoman the next. She was so distraught she could barely tell
 
   her husband what she had just witnessed. George didn't believe her.
 
 
 
   Insisting she'd dozed off and imagined that a man was hurled to his
 
   death, he opened the window and stuck his head out to have a look
 
   himself.
 
 
 
   He didn't see anything. Mildred wouldn't be hushed, though. She
 
   caused quite a scene, and the only way the porter could get her to stop
 
   screaming was to promise to stop the train and investigate. He too
 
   believed that Mildred had let her imagination run away with her.
 
 
 
   The train came to a screeching halt about a quarter of a mile from the
 
   nearest town. The conductor led the curious across the dry, barren
 
   land to a hill overlooking the lake. More than twenty men and women
 
   were in his entourage, and all of them doubting Thomases. More would
 
   have ventured out if they hadn't been afraid of the possibility of
 
   stepping on a rattlesnake.
 
 
 
   The conductor was out of breath by the time he reached the top of the
 
   hill. He looked down, let out a startled gasp, and whispered, "Dear
 
   God, it's true." The group stood with their heads bowed in silent
 
   prayer as they watched a fisherman drag a body out of the lake.
 
 
 
   Black Creek Junction was a quiet little town in the middle of an
 
   isolated and desolate stretch of land. There wasn't a tree or a bush
 
   or a flower for as far as the eye could see. The sunsets were the
 
   town's only vanity. Each day as the sun descended, orange shards of
 
   light struck the red clay soil and the western sky exploded in color,
 
   giving the appreciative audience the illusion that the horizon was on
 
   fire.
 
 
 
   Those who stood in the town square swore that they could see flames
 
   dancing across the land. It was a spectacular sight, made even more
 
   magical when old man Towers felt up to playing his fiddle. The
 
   townspeople told newcomers that they had actually seen flickering
 
   flames keeping time to the fiddler's tunes.
 
 
 
   Grace was transfixed by the magnificent sunset and was watching the
 
   phenomenon from the train.
 
 
 
   Though reluctant to pull her away from the window, Daniel had to be
 
   practical. "We only have an hour to eat and stretch our legs, " he
 
   reminded her.
 
 
 
   The mention of food reminded her how hungry she was. She put on her
 
   gloves and her hat and followed him down the corridor.
 
 
 
   "Do you wear your gloves everywhere you go? " he asked.
 
 
 
   "A lady must always wear her gloves in public." He smiled as he shook
 
   his head. She was so very proper all the time, ridiculously so, and
 
   sweet . . . Lord, but she was sweet. He wondered how proper she'd be
 
   in bed. The second the thought popped into his head, he pushed it
 
   aside.
 
 
 
   "Do you think you'll be able to eat a little something? " she asked.
 
 
 
   "Has your stomach settled down? " "Quit fussing over me. I'm fine. "
 
   Dinner was being served inside a two-story way station on the outskirts
 
   of town, about half a block from the depot. Daniel hadn't even stepped
 
   off the train when he was summoned.
 
 
 
   "Marshal Ryan? " He turned and saw a heavyset, bowlegged man running
 
   toward him. "Yes? " he said as he put his arm across the opening so
 
   Grace would have to stay inside the train.
 
 
 
   "I thought that was you, being so tall and all. The porter gave me a
 
   good description of you. My name's Owen Wheeler, and I'm the sheriff
 
   in this here town. Folks who know me good call me by my nickname,
 
   Bobcat.
 
 
 
   You can too if you want, " he added as he shook Daniel's hand. "It's a
 
   right pleasure to make your acquaintance."
 
 
 
   "What can I do for you, Sheriff? " Bobcat spotted Grace behind Daniel,
 
   tipped the brim of his hat, and said, "Howdy, ma'am."
 
 
 
   "Hello, Mr. Bobcat."
 
 
 
   "Just plain old Bobcat will do, " he explained. "Don't need a mister'
 
   in front of it."
 
 
 
   "How did you ever get such a nickname? " she asked, her curiosity
 
   piqued.
 
 
 
   He grinned at her. "A while back, I ran into a bobcat and had to
 
   wrestle with him. I got the scars all over my belly to prove it. If
 
   you'd like to see . . . " "No, no, that's quite all right. I believe
 
   you, " Grace rushed out.
 
 
 
   The sheriff couldn't seem to take his eyes off Grace, and the rudeness
 
   irritated Daniel. "Was there something I could help you with? " he
 
   asked impatiently.
 
 
 
   Bobcat vigorously nodded. "We've got some trouble here. I was telling
 
   the porter about it, and he mentioned he'd seen you wearing a badge and
 
   thought maybe you could help."
 
 
 
   "What exactly is the problem? " Daniel asked, wishing the sheriff
 
   would get to the point.
 
 
 
   "Yesterday, Gladys Anderson's boy, Billy, pulled a man out of the
 
   lake.
 
 
 
   Billy was doing some fishing instead of going to work at the stables
 
   like he was supposed to, but it was fortunate he's such a slacker. The
 
   man would have drowned if Billy hadn't been there, and that's the
 
   truth.
 
 
 
   Billy saw it happen too."
 
 
 
   "Saw what happen? " "Billy was sitting on his boat watching the train
 
   go over the trestle when all of a sudden he sees a man come flying out
 
   and plunging down into the water. The poor fella hit hard and went
 
   right under, but Billy fished him out, and that's when he noticed the
 
   man had been shot. I'm thinking he was thrown off that train." Grace
 
   was horrified. "How awful, " she said.
 
 
 
   "Is the gentleman going to recover? " Bobcat mournfully shook his
 
   head. "Doc says he's in a real bad way, ma'am. Real bad. The bullet
 
   went through, so Doc didn't have to dig it out, but infection already
 
   set in. I figured you'd want to know, Marshal, being as the dying man
 
   is one of yours." Daniel was already reaching for Grace to pull her
 
   off the train.
 
 
 
   "He was wearing a badge, " Bobcat explained. "And the porter told me
 
   his name is Cooper. Do you know him? " "Where is he? " Daniel asked,
 
   his voice sharp with fear and anger.
 
 
 
   "Inside the way station. Doc wouldn't let us take him any further.
 
 
 
   He's in one of the sleeping rooms upstairs. The marshal's fighting for
 
   his life, but Doc doesn't think he's gonna make it." Shaken by what he
 
   had just heard, Daniel grabbed Grace and quickened his pace toward the
 
   building. The sheriff ran by his side.
 
 
 
   "Did you question everyone on the train? " Daniel demanded.
 
 
 
   "I did, " the sheriff answered. "One woman saw him going over the
 
   trestle, but she didn't see anything else. No one heard the gunshot
 
   either, " he added in a pant. "A window was shattered by one bullet,
 
   and I figure two were fired. The second went through the marshal. "
 
   Daniel reached the door to the way station, threw it open, and rushed
 
   inside. His gaze was on the crowd sitting at the long tables waiting
 
   for their food to be served. He kept Grace tucked into his side,
 
   spotted the stairs in the corner, and headed across the room.
 
 
 
   As they raced up the narrow steps, he glanced back at the sheriff.
 
 
 
   "What about the woman Marshal Cooper was traveling with? Where is
 
   she?
 
 
 
   " "There weren't no woman."
 
 
 
   "Yes, there was, " Daniel muttered.
 
 
 
   "The porter told me the marshal had a woman with him, and other folks
 
   remember seeing her getting on the train. She might have been there
 
   when they started, but she weren't there when the train was stopped.
 
 
 
   That's the God's truth."
 
 
 
   "What about her things? " Grace asked.
 
 
 
   "Did you find a valise or a bag? " "No, ma'am. We didn't find
 
   anything. That compartment was empty, and there weren't nothing left
 
   behind to prove a woman had ever been there." They reached the end of
 
   the hallway, where the physician was standing.
 
 
 
   He nodded to Daniel and then opened the door and went back inside.
 
 
 
   "Grace, wait with the sheriff out here, " Daniel said. "Sheriff, don't
 
   let anyone up those stairs. You understand me? " "What do you want me
 
   to do if someone wants to come up? " "Shoot him." The sheriff's eyes
 
   widened. Grace waited until Daniel had gone inside Cooper's room
 
   before bowing her head and saying a silent prayer that his friend would
 
   survive. "Was the missing woman Marshal Cooper's wife? " Bobcat
 
   asked.
 
 
 
   "No, " she answered. "They weren't related. Marshal Cooper was
 
   escorting Rebecca to Texas."
 
 
 
   "Well, where in tarnation is she? " Grace shook her head. "I don't
 
   know, " she whispered.
 
 
 
   A shiver passed down her arms. Rebecca had vanished.
 
 
 
   God help her.
 
 
 
   Xaniel kept vigil by his friend's side all through the night. Cooper,
 
   locked in a fitful sleep, was having nightmares and mumbling words
 
   about monsters and traitors that didn't make any sense.
 
 
 
   Grace took care of practical matters. She asked the porter to remove
 
   their bags from the train, ordered a tray of food be sent up for Daniel
 
   to eat later if and when his appetite returned, and kept Sheriff Bobcat
 
   company at the small round table in the corridor adjacent to Cooper's
 
   room.
 
 
 
   The sheriff kept up a constant flow of chatter while he and Grace ate
 
   supper together. The food was bland but filling, and an hour later she
 
   couldn't remember what had been served. Her mind was filled with fear
 
   for Marshal Cooper and Rebecca.
 
 
 
   The physician came out of Cooper's room around nine that evening. He
 
   shook his head sorrowfully and told the sheriff there was little
 
   improvement.
 
 
 
   "I opened the wound near the rib cage to drain the infection. I don't
 
   know what good it will do now, though. The man's burning up with
 
   fever. I mixed up a batch of my herb brew, and if I could only get him
 
   to wake up long enough to swallow some, I know it would do him some
 
   good."
 
 
 
   "You can't get Marshal Cooper to wake up? " Grace asked, her worry
 
   apparent in her trembling voice.
 
 
 
   "No, ma'am, I can't, " the doctor answered. He scratched his whiskered
 
   jaw and added, "That poor man is delirious and ranting and raving about
 
   monsters."
 
 
 
   "Sounds like he's plumb out of his head, " Bobcat interjected.
 
 
 
   The physician agreed with his friend's diagnosis. "It looks that
 
   way.
 
 
 
   I don't believe there's anything more to be done tonight. I'm going to
 
   go on home and get a couple of hours sleep. Then I'll venture back
 
   here and have another look at him. Miss, if you don't mind me saying
 
   so, you look awful weary. Why don't you find a bed with clean sheets
 
   and get some rest." {We got her all fixed up in the room next to your
 
   patient. It's the only door with a lock on it up here." After the
 
   doctor went down the stairs, Bobcat turned to Grace. "I'm right proud
 
   to be of help to Marshal Ryan, and now that I know you need protecting,
 
   I'll just set myself outside your door with my loaded rifle."
 
 
 
   "Do you think that's necessary? The train left hours ago, and the only
 
   other people here are the owners."
 
 
 
   "Of course it's necessary. The Blackwater gang ain't going to knock on
 
   the door and ask if they can come inside and shoot you. They'll try to
 
   sneak in. Now, don't argue with me. You go on ahead into your room
 
   and get some sleep. I'll keep my eyes open." Grace didn't argue. The
 
   room she'd been assigned was sparsely furnished. There was a bed with
 
   a wooden headboard, a chest of drawers, and three hooks on the wall to
 
   hang her clothes on. She put her gloves and hat on top of the dresser,
 
   and then went right back out into the hallway.
 
 
 
   "I'm just going to look in on Daniel for a moment, " she explained as
 
   she hurried past the sheriff before he could try to stop her, "I won't
 
   be long." She didn't knock on Cooper's door, for she knew that Daniel
 
   would send her back to her room. She simply went inside and quietly
 
   shut the door behind her.
 
 
 
   Daniel was standing at the window but turned when she entered the
 
   room.
 
 
 
   His surprise at seeing her was quickly replaced with a frown.
 
 
 
   "What are you doing here? You should be getting ready for bed. You're
 
   going to have to get up early tomorrow."
 
 
 
   "I would like to help you take care of your friend."
 
 
 
   "There isn't anything you can do." He looked haggard and sounded
 
   defeated. It was as though he had already accepted Cooper's death and
 
   was mourning him. She wanted to tell him to have hope, but she didn't
 
   think anything that she said would change his attitude.
 
 
 
   "You're exhausted, " she said. "Why don't you get some sleep? I'll
 
   sit with Marshal Cooper. You still haven't recovered from the
 
   influenza."
 
 
 
   "Don't fuss over me, " he growled.
 
 
 
   She gave up trying to talk sense to the obstinate man and turned her
 
   attention to Cooper. He was sleeping on his back in the double bed
 
   with just a sheet covering him to his waist. He was as still as
 
   death.
 
 
 
   A thick bandage was wrapped around his middle, and there were spots of
 
   bright red blood seeping through the white packing. His complexion was
 
   a chalky gray, and in the dim light from the two lanterns on the
 
   bedside tables, Cooper looked as though his next breath would be his
 
   last.
 
 
 
   "The doctor couldn't get him to wake up and drink the medicine? "
 
   "No.
 
 
 
   He kept choking." She got down to business, unbuttoned the cuffs of
 
   her sleeves and rolled them up to her elbows. Then she went to the
 
   basin and washed her hands.
 
 
 
   "What do you think you're going to do? " "Daniel, try not to take your
 
   anger out on me. All right? I know how upset you are about your
 
   friend, but being hostile isn't going to help.
 
 
 
   To answer your question, " she continued. "I'm going to try to bring
 
   his fever down."
 
 
 
   "What makes you think you can do what the doctor couldn't? " "I'm
 
   going to try. That's all. I have had some experience nursing the
 
   sick. My grandmother was ill for a very long time."
 
 
 
   "What happened to her? " "She died."
 
 
 
   "So much for your nursing expertise." She lost her temper. "Will you
 
   stop being so sarcastic? I simply don't have the time or inclination
 
   to deal with it. Come over here and help me. One way or another,
 
   Marshal Cooper is going to swallow the medicine."
 
 
 
   "I don't thinkţ" She wouldn't let him finish. "Either help me or stay
 
   out of my way.
 
 
 
   Understood? " Daniel was astonished by her burst of anger. This was
 
   the second time he'd seen her lose her composure. Lady Winthrop, he
 
   decided, definitely had a dark side. The discovery made him smile.
 
 
 
   Between the two of them, they were able to get most of the medicine
 
   down him. She then pulled a chair up next to Cooper's side and began
 
   to apply cold compresses to his forehead.
 
 
 
   "Your fever was just as high as his, " she remarked.
 
 
 
   "Maybe, but I didn't have a bullet hole in my side, and I wasn't
 
   riddled with infection. The doctor says that's what's going to kill
 
   him."
 
 
 
   "When did you become such a pessimist? " she asked.
 
 
 
   "When my wife and daughter were gunned down in a bank." The horrifying
 
   admission stunned her. She dropped the compress she was holding and
 
   watched Daniel restlessly pace in front of the window. She didn't know
 
   what to say to him, and all she could think about was not crying in
 
   front of him because she knew her reaction would make him angry.
 
 
 
   Neither one of them spoke again for almost an hour. Then Grace finally
 
   broke the silence. "Do you blame yourself? " "Yes."
 
 
 
   "Why? " "I wasn't there to protect them, " he whispered. "That's
 
   why."
 
 
 
   "I see.
 
 
 
   " "Aren't you going to argue? " She picked up the soaked cloth from
 
   the basin, wrung the excess water out, and gently placed it on Cooper's
 
   forehead.
 
 
 
   "What would you like me to say, Daniel? You've already made up your
 
   mind and condemned yourself because you couldn't stop it from
 
   happening.
 
 
 
   Isn't that right? " "I wasn't even in town when they died."
 
 
 
   "Were you working? " "Yes."
 
 
 
   "But if you had been in town, then you would have gone to the bank for
 
   your wife? Would you have done that? " "I don't know. I don't want
 
   to talk about it." He sprawled out in the chair on the opposite side
 
   of the bed. "I should have been there, and I wasn't. It's as simple
 
   as that."
 
 
 
   "Did you always do the banking business for your wife? " He shook his
 
   head. "No."
 
 
 
   "Did you do other errands? " "Like what? " She shrugged. "Like going
 
   into the general store to shop orţtX He interrupted impatiently. "No,
 
   Kathleen did all the shopping."
 
 
 
   "I see."
 
 
 
   "What do you see, Grace? Enlighten me." She ignored his hostility.
 
 
 
   "If your wife and daughter had been killed while they were shopping or
 
   while they were walking down the street, you would still blame
 
   yourself. I think I understand why.
 
 
 
   It's because you're a lawman, and it's your duty to protect the
 
   innocent."
 
 
 
   "Yes. I should have prevented it from ever happening."
 
 
 
   "By staying with your family day and night and never letting them out
 
   of your sight? " "I didn't say that."
 
 
 
   "Yes, you did." He bowed his head. His eyes burned, and he rubbed
 
   them with one hand.
 
 
 
   Then he reached over and turned down the lamp on the table next to
 
   him.
 
 
 
   The orange glow from the flame was irritating him. "You don't need all
 
   this light, do you? " "No." She was stroking Cooper's brow while she
 
   thought about their conversation. She still hadn't recovered from the
 
   stunning news that his family had been murdered.
 
 
 
   "I'm surprised you didn't hand your badge back to your superiors, " she
 
   remarked. "Or turn to drink after your wife died. Some men do."
 
 
 
   "I didn't. I wanted to die all right, but I figured it would take too
 
   long if I tried to drink myself to death. One night, I got my gun and
 
   I put the barrel up against my temple . . . " "Stop it. I don't want
 
   to hear this." He didn't realize he was breaking her heart by telling
 
   her what he had attempted to do. He didn't know how much he meant to
 
   her. How could he?
 
 
 
   She had been cold and so appallingly proper from the moment she'd met
 
   him. Ladies never revealed their true emotions. It wasn't acceptable
 
   to let others see a burst of anger or passion or joy. Grace had been
 
   well trained by experts, and there were times when she honestly didn't
 
   know what she was feeling.
 
 
 
   "I obviously didn't have the courage to kill myself, " he said dryly.
 
 
 
   "I'm still here, aren't I? " "Courage has nothing to do with it, " she
 
   snapped. "Killing yourself is a coward's way out. It takes courage to
 
   go on."
 
 
 
   "Maybe, " he allowed. "I even thought about trying to get Cole riled
 
   up enough to shoot me, but that was before I heard all the stories
 
   about him. He's far more honorable than I am, " he added.
 
 
 
   "Sheriff Sloan told me he shot a woman in Abilene. Is that true? "
 
   "Ah, he just winged her, " Daniel replied.
 
 
 
   She gasped.
 
 
 
   "It was the only way he could get the man who was going to kill her, "
 
   he said.
 
 
 
   "Then it was necessary? " "Yes."
 
 
 
   "Daniel . . . do you still think about . . . it? " He knew what she
 
   was asking. "No, I don't think about it anymore.
 
 
 
   Thoughts about doing myself in happened right after I buried my
 
   family.
 
 
 
   I was pretty much out of my mind then."
 
 
 
   "Yes, I think maybe you were.
 
 
 
   " "I figure there has to be a reason I'm still around."
 
 
 
   "I think so too, " she whispered.
 
 
 
   He was warmed by the fact that she was worried about him. It had been
 
   a long time since anyone had been concerned about his welfare. The
 
   world had been such a cold place for the past two years . . . until
 
   Grace.
 
 
 
   "When this is over . . . " "Yes? " He shook his head. "Never mind.
 
 
 
   " She'd been sitting by Cooper's side for so long her back was
 
   aching.
 
 
 
   She moved the basin of water out of the way and stood up to stretch.
 
 
 
   What she needed, she decided, was fresh air.
 
 
 
   The window was on Daniel's side of the bed. As she tried to walk past
 
   him, he reached out and took hold of her hand.
 
 
 
   "I thought I'd open the window." He gently pulled her down onto his
 
   lap. She was caught off guard and put her hands around his neck before
 
   she realized what she was doing.
 
 
 
   Then she pulled back.
 
 
 
   "You don't want me to open the window? " "I want you to sit here with
 
   me."
 
 
 
   "It probably isn't very proper."
 
 
 
   "And you're always proper, aren't you? " The yearning in his eyes was
 
   her undoing. She gently stroked his cheek with her fingertips. "I try
 
   to be, " she whispered.
 
 
 
   "May I ask you something? " "Anything at all." He wanted to wrap her
 
   in his arms and hold her for the rest of the night. He didn't know
 
   what had come over him, but maybe it was all the talk about Kathleen
 
   that made him melancholy and lonely. No, that wasn't true, he
 
   admitted.
 
 
 
   Grace made him feel this way. He had been wanting to hold her from the
 
   moment he'd walked into Tilly MacGuire's kitchen and seen her standing
 
   at the counter.
 
 
 
   He was tired of fighting the attraction.
 
 
 
   "Grace, what I said to you on the train . . . about wanting you. Does
 
   that offend you? " [ She didn't answer him. He cupped her chin with
 
   his hand and leisurely ran his thumb back and forth across her lower
 
   lip.
 
 
 
   "Does it? " he asked again.
 
 
 
   She studied him. His eyes were captivating, and she wondered if he had
 
   any idea how amazingly handsome and virile he was.
 
 
 
   "I'm sorry . . . What did you ask me? " He laughed softly. "What
 
   were you thinking about? " "How handsome you are, " she admitted.
 
 
 
   "I'm glad you want me, " she blurted out. "But I'm not Kathleen. "
 
   "No, you're not."
 
 
 
   "I can't replace her."
 
 
 
   "I don't want you to replace her. I just want . . . " "Yes? " "You,
 
   Grace. Just you." His hand moved to the back of her neck, and he
 
   pulled her toward him.
 
 
 
   "I want to kiss you. Is that all right? " She loved the fact that
 
   he'd asked permission. "Yes, Daniel. I want you to kiss me. I've
 
   waited for such a long time." He was stunned by her honesty and felt a
 
   tightness in his chest when she shyly put her arms back around his
 
   neck.
 
 
 
   His mouth captured hers in a kiss that was anything but proper. His
 
   touch was possessive, almost violently so, and yet there was a
 
   tenderness in the way he coaxed her into responding. His tongue swept
 
   inside to taste the sweetness within.
 
 
 
   The kiss was long and thorough, but when it ended, he wanted another.
 
 
 
   She pulled away and walked to the window, staring vacantly for a full
 
   minute before she remembered what she'd wanted to do. Her hands were
 
   trembling, and it took considerable effort to get the lock unlatched
 
   and the window up.
 
 
 
   When she passed Daniel again, she hoped he'd grab her once more, but he
 
   didn't. His eyes were closed, and his head rested against the back of
 
   the chair.
 
 
 
   She resumed her vigil by Cooper's side. Daniel slept until the middle
 
   of the night and came awake with a start when Cooper began to thrash
 
   about. Grace was sitting on the bed, trying to calm him. Her soft
 
   voice did the trick, for within seconds Cooper was auiet once again.
 
 
 
   "How's he doing? " he whispered.
 
 
 
   "I can't tell, " she answered. "He's fitful, but the fever doesn't
 
   seem to be as high."
 
 
 
   "I'll sit with him, Grace. You should try to get some sleep. You look
 
   worn out."
 
 
 
   "I'll rest in a little while, " she promised. "My mind is racing
 
   now.
 
 
 
   I've been worrying about Rebecca. Do you think she's still alive? I
 
   pray she is."
 
 
 
   "I doubt it, " he said. "My mind's also racing with questions. I
 
   can't figure out why the compartment was empty. It doesn't make any
 
   sense."
 
 
 
   "I don't understand." He leaned forward and braced his hands on his
 
   knees. "The porter said the compartment Cooper and Rebecca shared
 
   looked as though it hadn't been occupied."
 
 
 
   "Yes, I remember."
 
 
 
   "So where are her clothes? " "Cooper's things were also missing,
 
   weren't they? " "No, " he answered. "His saddlebags were in the
 
   luggage compartment."
 
 
 
   "Maybe Rebecca's satchels were thrown out the window."
 
 
 
   "The sheriff assured me that he and his men searched the area. They
 
   were looking for Rebecca, and they would have found her bags. They
 
   didn't."
 
 
 
   "Maybe the men who shot Marshal Cooper let her take herthings with her,
 
   " she said. "That would be a good sign, wouldn't it, that they plan to
 
   keep her alive? " "But they wouldn't want to do that, " he argued.
 
 
 
   "They'd want to silence her as quickly as possible."
 
 
 
   "Because they think she's the witness? " "Yes."
 
 
 
   "How awful, " she whispered. "Poor Rebecca. She wasn't even there."
 
 
 
   The matter-of-fact comment caught his attention.
 
 
 
   "She told Cole and me she was."
 
 
 
   "She what? " Grace asked, clearly flabbergasted.
 
 
 
   "Rebecca said she witnessed the robbery. She gave us a detailed
 
   accounting of what happened and descriptions of the men she saw. "
 
   "She couldn't have, " she argued, shaking her head.
 
 
 
   "She could have and she did."
 
 
 
   "If you'll remember, I told you I was in the bank too. Rebecca was
 
   probably just trying to protect Jessica and me and she lied to you."
 
 
 
   "Why are you assuming she lied? " Before Grace could answer the
 
   question, he said, "Jessica also told us she was the witness. She
 
   didn't give us any real details, though, but Rebecca did. She told us
 
   everything." She shook her head again.
 
 
 
   "No, that isn't possible."
 
 
 
   "I'm telling you she gave us specific details, " he insisted. "What's
 
   wrong? " "It doesn't make any sense.
 
 
 
   That's what's wrong . . . " She was exasperating. He held on to his
 
   patience and asked, "Why doesn't it? " "Because she couldn't have
 
   given you details. I promised I would keep silent. . . . I gave my
 
   word . . . but that was before . . . and now . . . " "Grace, what
 
   are you trying to tell me? " "Rebecca isn't the witness. Jessica
 
   is.
 
 
 
   " Xaniel was white with anger. "Do you realize what you're saying? I
 
   swear to God, if you're lying now . . . " "I'm telling you the truth,
 
   " she insisted. "Jessica was in the bank during the robbery, not
 
   Rebecca." He was pacing about the room like a caged animal. He kept
 
   telling himself that shouting at Grace wouldn't accomplish anything,
 
   but the urge was nearly overwhelming. He took a deep breath and then
 
   asked in a chillingly soft voice, "Why didn't you tell me the truth
 
   before? Why in God's name did you wait so long? " "I promised Jessica
 
   I wouldn't tell anyone. I gave her my word."
 
 
 
   "Dear God, " he muttered. He threaded his fingers through his hair and
 
   sat down.
 
 
 
   "Try to understand, " she pleaded. "Jessica was terrified."
 
 
 
   "Does Rebecca know that Jessica is the witness? " "No, she doesn't."
 
 
 
   "Are you sure? " "Yes." She turned away then so that she wouldn't
 
   have to look at the fury etched on his face. She had never seen him
 
   this angry before, and it frightened her.
 
 
 
   "Now do you understand why I was so bewildered when you told me Rebecca
 
   gave you specific details? " "Ah, Grace, " he whispered as he tried to
 
   control his anger.
 
 
 
   "Danielţ" He cut her off. "Tell me how you know Jessica was in the
 
   bank, " he demanded.
 
 
 
   "I watched Caleb for her, " she explained. "She had taken him with her
 
   to the bank earlier that afternoon, and he was cranky and out of
 
   sorts.
 
 
 
   She put him down for his nap and then went back."
 
 
 
   "Why? " "She had tried to close her aunt's account, but she'd left one
 
   of the signed documents on Tilly's kitchen table. That's why she went
 
   back."
 
 
 
   "Then what happened? " "It was awful, " she whispered. "She'd run all
 
   the way, and when she got to the back door, she started throwing up.
 
 
 
   She was barely coherent, " she added. "I tried to get her to calm
 
   down, but she was out of her mind with terror. I put her to bed and
 
   stayed with her until Caleb woke up."
 
 
 
   "Was Tilly there? " "No. She had gone out to do some errands. I told
 
   her that Jessica had come down with influenza and that she needed to
 
   stay in bed and rest." A tear slipped down her cheek, and she
 
   impatiently wiped it away. "I took care of Caleb the rest of that day,
 
   and when it was his bedtime, I took him upstairs and found Jessica
 
   frantically packing. She wanted to leave Rockford Falls that night,
 
   but I was finally able to convince her to stay."
 
 
 
   "Did she tell you exactly what happened while she was in the bank? "
 
   "Yes, she did. After Caleb fell asleep, we went out on the porch and
 
   she told me everything but their names." He erupted in rage. "Are you
 
   telling me she knows their names? " Grace gripped her hands
 
   together.
 
 
 
   She knew how wrong it had been of her to keep silent and how she had
 
   magnified her culpability by adding the lie that she was the witness.
 
 
 
   Daniel would never forgive her. He should arrest her and put her in
 
   jail, but she didn't think that would be half as horrible as the guilt
 
   she now felt.
 
 
 
   "She heard the man in charge call the others by their names. She
 
   didn't see all of them . . . or hear all their names . . . just
 
   some.
 
 
 
   " "Why in God's name didn't she tell Cole or me? " Desperate to make
 
   him understand, she stood up to plead with him. "She couldn't trust
 
   anyone."
 
 
 
   "She trusted you."
 
 
 
   "Yes, she did. I don't know if she would have told me what happened,
 
   though, if I hadn't been there in the kitchen when she came back. I
 
   saw the condition she was in. She couldn't control her panic, and all
 
   she could think about was keeping her son safe. Can you blame her? I
 
   would have done the same thing." Daniel nodded, for he did
 
   understand.
 
 
 
   "What happened then? " "Jessica was sure that the authorities . . .
 
 
 
   you . . . would apprehend the men and wouldn't need an eyewitness.
 
 
 
   She desperately wanted to believe that would happen."
 
 
 
   "When she wanted to run . . . is that when you suggested she go with
 
   you? " "Yes."
 
 
 
   "When did she remember she'd left her bag behind? " "Not until we
 
   heard that one was found under the desk."
 
 
 
   "Why was it empty? " "When the men came in, she stuffed the money in
 
   her dress. She was afraid they'd take it. She didn't realize they
 
   were going tN } "Massacre them? " "Yes." Daniel closed his eyes for a
 
   moment. "If Jessica hadn't left her bag behind, Cole and I would never
 
   have known she saw it happen."
 
 
 
   "I don't know if she would have eventually come forward or not, " Grace
 
   said. "It wasn't her bag, though. It was mine. She borrowed it so
 
   she would have something to put the money in to carry it home."
 
 
 
   "It was your bag? " He didn't know why that information infuriated him
 
   so, but it did.
 
 
 
   "Honest to God, you and Jessica have obstructed this investigation from
 
   the very beginning. I ought to lock the two of you in a cell and let
 
   you grow old together."
 
 
 
   "Will you please lower your voice? You're going to wake up Marshal
 
   Cooper."
 
 
 
   "We want him to wake up, " he roared.
 
 
 
   She had had enough of his temper and started for the door. "I won't
 
   let you shout at me, Daniel. I know what I did was wrong, and if you
 
   want to arrest me, then do so."
 
 
 
   "Grace . . . " "I realize I should have tried harder to convince my
 
   friend to tell the truth, but I can't change the past."
 
 
 
   "Come back here." She was too tired to argue and did as he ordered.
 
 
 
   "I'd like to go to bed."
 
 
 
   "You're too upset to sleep."
 
 
 
   "How do you know how I feel? " "I can see it in your face.
 
 
 
   I know I shouldn't have raised my voice to you, and I'm sorry about
 
   that, but I'm damned well not going to apologize for my anger. I lost
 
   the only two women I'm ever going to love, and I don't care how scared
 
   Jessica was. She and you should have come forward." The impact of
 
   what he had just said was devastating, and she realized for the very
 
   first time just how much his opinion had come to matter to her. He had
 
   just told her he could never love again, and, dear God, she was already
 
   falling in love with him. She wouldn't let that happen. Only a fool
 
   would love a man who couldn't open his heart to her.
 
 
 
   i "Why did you kiss me? " The question caught him off guard. "I
 
   wanted to." She folded her arms across her waist. "Don't ever do it
 
   again. Promise me you won't." He wouldn't make a promise he had no
 
   intention of keeping, and so he said nothing at all, until she pushed
 
   him.
 
 
 
   "I want your word, Daniel."
 
 
 
   "No."
 
 
 
   "No? Do you mean . . . after what just happened . . . you would want
 
   to kiss me again? " "Yeah, I would and I will."
 
 
 
   "Have you figured it all out yet, Daniel? " Cooper's raspy voice
 
   intruded.
 
 
 
   Daniel jumped to his feet. "You're awake." Grace rushed to his
 
   side.
 
 
 
   "How do you feel, Marshal? " "Like I'm in the middle of a war.
 
 
 
   What's the matter with you two, fighting with a dying man between
 
   you?
 
 
 
   " Daniel was so relieved to see his friend awake a huge grin crossed
 
   his face.
 
 
 
   Grace was teary-eyed. "I'm sorry we disturbed you."
 
 
 
   "You shouldn't shout at a lady, " Cooper told Daniel before turning to
 
   Grace. "And you should have told us what you knew. Now, don't cry,
 
   darling'."
 
 
 
   "You're not dying, are you, Cooper? " Daniel asked.
 
 
 
   Cooper would have laughed, but he didn't have the stamina. He felt as
 
   weak and used up as a hundred-year-old plow horse. "I don't suppose I
 
   am, " he said. "I asked you a question, " he reminded him. "Help me
 
   sit up, fetch me a glass of water, and then tell me if you've figured
 
   it out yet." Grace hurried to place two pillows behind the marshal's
 
   back while Daniel lifted him up. A moment later, Daniel handed him a
 
   glass of water, then pulled his chair closer to the bed.
 
 
 
   Grace felt Cooper's brow, smiled because it didn't feel overly warm to
 
   her, and then politely excused herself and tried to leave the room so
 
   that they would have privacy for their talk.
 
 
 
   "Grace, come back here, " Daniel ordered.
 
 
 
   When she went back to the chair across from him, Daniel shook his head
 
   at her and motioned for her to come to him.
 
 
 
   "Are you going to introduce me to the lady? " Cooper asked.
 
 
 
   "My name is Grace Winthrop, " she said, and instinctively started to
 
   curtsy.
 
 
 
   "She's Lady Grace Winthrop, " Daniel told his friend. "She already
 
   knows who you are, Cooper." He patted the side of the bed next to
 
   Daniel. "Sit with me, darling'."
 
 
 
   "She isn't your darling'."
 
 
 
   "She isn't? " he asked before taking a long swallow of the cool
 
   water.
 
 
 
   "No, she isn't, " Daniel replied. "She's mine." Grace stumbled and
 
   fell on the foot of the bed. She was too astounded by his comment to
 
   argue. Did all men make so little sense? Daniel had kissed her, then
 
   shouted at her, and then he said the most ridiculously romantic thing
 
   she'd ever heard.
 
 
 
   She simply had to get away from him as quickly as possible before he
 
   turned her mind into mush.
 
 
 
   "Cooper fancies himself a lady's man, " Daniel remarked.
 
 
 
   "I am a lady's man, " Cooper corrected.
 
 
 
   Daniel settled back in his chair and relaxed. His friend was going to
 
   make it. Now it was time to talk about what had happened. He was
 
   pretty sure he had it all figured out, but he wanted confirmation.
 
 
 
   "So tell me, Cooper, did Rebecca shoot you or was it someone else? "
 
   Grace was so taken aback by the question, she jumped to her feet to
 
   protest. "You cannot be serious, Daniel. You can't possibly believe
 
   that sweet Rebecca had anything to do with this." Images of Rebecca
 
   cuddling little Caleb flashed in her mind. She remembered how worried
 
   and frightened Rebecca had been when she first arrived at Tilly's house
 
   after the fire. What would they have done if she hadn't stepped
 
   forward to take charge in their time of need? No, Grace thought,
 
   Daniel was wrong.
 
 
 
   "Rebecca did the shooting, " Cooper said quietly. "I never l saw it
 
   coming, never once suspected. There was a man there, but I only got a
 
   fleeting glance at him before I was blown into the hallway. I was
 
   going down when she shot at me again. The last thing I remember is the
 
   sound of glass breaking." Grace was too stunned to speak.
 
 
 
   Cooper told Daniel every detail he could recall, including the fact
 
   that Rebecca had been naked. "I opened the door and was so surprised
 
   by the sight of her, I think I hesitated before I went for my gun.
 
 
 
   Those seconds almost cost me my life. I should have been prepared for
 
   any eventuality." Grace fell back on the bed. "She's one of them? "
 
   she gasped, trying to come to terms with the truth. "The fire, " she
 
   cried out. "Did she start the fire? Did she hit me? " By the time
 
   she finished her questions, she was shaking.
 
 
 
   Daniel nodded. "Most likely, " he said. "Unless one of the other men
 
   stayed behind, but I don't think that happened. All Rebecca had to do
 
   was sprinkle some kerosene around the house and light a match. She was
 
   real sure of herself, " he told Cooper. "She went inside the houseţ"
 
   Grace jumped to her feet again. "And helped herself to an apple, " she
 
   blurted out. "She tried to kill all of us . . . Tilly and Caleb and
 
   Jessica . . . and she wore black, Daniel. Didn't she? She was
 
   dressed all in black." Daniel noticed that Cooper grimaced in pain
 
   when Grace sat on the bed again. She didn't realize that every time
 
   she moved, she was causing him discomfort. Knowing Cooper the way he
 
   did, he also knew he wouldn't say anything to her. Daniel gently
 
   pulled Grace toward him and deposited her on the arm of his chair.
 
 
 
   She barely noticed she'd moved, so caught up was she in the horror of
 
   Rebecca's treachery.
 
 
 
   "She's a good actress, " Cooper remarked.
 
 
 
   Grace tried to stand again, but Daniel put his arm around her waist and
 
   held her down. "Yes, she is a good actress, " she agreed. "She was
 
   complacent and smug, and I thought she was my friend. Can you believe
 
   that, Marshal Cooper? I believed she was my friend." Cooper nodded.
 
 
 
   "I felt sorry for her."
 
 
 
   "Everything was a lie, wasn't it? She pretended to be so worried about
 
   Jessica and me, and she kept telling us we had to stick together."
 
 
 
   "When you were locked in the jail together? " Daniel asked.
 
 
 
   "Yes, " she answered. "She told us what she was going to say to you.
 
 
 
   She went over it again and again until we had all but memorized it. "
 
   "Did she try to find out which one of you was the witness? " "No, she
 
   didn't."
 
 
 
   "She had probably already made up her mind to kill both of you ."
 
 
 
   Grace visibly shivered. "She almost succeeded. If you and Cole hadn't
 
   come when you did, we all would have died. Jessica would never have
 
   left the house without Caleb and Tilly and me, and the smoke would have
 
   gotten her."
 
 
 
   "The very first robbery . . . wasn't the building burned to the
 
   ground? " "Yes, " Daniel answered. "The first thought all of us had
 
   was that someone was trying to cover embezzlement. The bank manager
 
   swore that the receipts balanced every night. Every penny was
 
   accounted for, " he added. "And we ran a thorough check on all the
 
   officers and employees.
 
 
 
   Every one came up squeaky clean."
 
 
 
   "Marshal, can you ever forgive me?
 
 
 
   " Grace asked. "If Jessica and I had told Daniel the truth, you
 
   wouldn't have been shot. All of this could have been avoided. "
 
   "That's one way to think about it, " Cooper told her. "But there's
 
   also another. If you two had told the truth at the beginning, Rehecca
 
   wouldn't have said she was the witness. She could have happily gone on
 
   her way and let her friends go after Jessica. We might never have
 
   known that Rebecca was involved."
 
 
 
   "Then it wasn't terribly wrong of Jessica and me to withhold the
 
   truth?
 
 
 
   " "Grace, if you're expecting me to thank you, it isn't gonna happen, "
 
   Daniel said. "You should have told me the truth." His mind was
 
   consumed with Rebecca. "I let her slip right through my fingers."
 
 
 
   "I bent over backwards to accommodate the woman, " Cooper admitted. "I
 
   even let her . . . Ah, Daniel, I told her Grace and Jessica were going
 
   to meet her in Red Arrow, and I also let her send a telegram. She told
 
   me she wanted to let her friends know she wouldn't be joining them, but
 
   we now know that was a lie. If you go into Red Arrow, they're going to
 
   be waiting for you."
 
 
 
   "What about Cole and Jessica? " Grace whispered. "They'll be walking
 
   into a trap." Daniel didn't seem very upset by the possibility. A
 
   gleam had come into his eyes, and he rubbed his hands together in
 
   anticipation.
 
 
 
   "What are you thinking? " she asked. "Aren't you worried about Cole
 
   and Jessica? " "No, they have to come through here to get to Red
 
   Arrow, " he explained.
 
 
 
   "And they're at least a day behind us. Maybe two. ^ "Then you won't
 
   go into Red Arrow at all. You'll take a cut through to Blackwater? "
 
   She was nodding over her own conclusion when he contradicted her. "Oh,
 
   no, we're going into Red Arrow all right."
 
 
 
   "But they'll be waiting.
 
 
 
   . . . " "God, I hope so." Cooper had been listening to the
 
   conversation with his eyes closed. He didn't bother to open them when
 
   he asked, "You do have a plan in mind, don't you? " "Yes, " Daniel
 
   answered. "But it involves you, Cooper."
 
 
 
   "Daniel, he's been seriously wounded, and his fever only just broke."
 
 
 
   "He won't have to do much, " he promised.
 
 
 
   "So what do you want me to do? " Cooper asked.
 
 
 
   Daniel smiled. "I want you to die. "Jg And in green underwood and
 
   cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
 
 
 
   or two long days and nights, four members of the Blackwater gang
 
   impatiently waited to ambush the women when they got off the train in
 
   Red Arrow. Three of them kept vigil at the depot, while the fourth
 
   kept to the shadows as a backup in the event his friends didn't
 
   succeed.
 
 
 
   Two trains arrived daily, one at ten in the morning and the other at
 
   six at night. The men were thorough in their search. After the
 
   passengers departed, a clean sweep was made of every car just to make
 
   certain the women weren't hiding.
 
 
 
   The hours in between the trains' arrivals were spent in the town
 
   saloon. The four of them drank hard whiskey together, but none of them
 
   got drunk. Mr. Robertson did get a little careless, though, and the
 
   others had to help him cover up his spot of trouble. Robertson blamed
 
   his lack of control on boredom, for surely that was why he had taken
 
   the homely little whore named Flo out to one of the caverns and cut
 
   her. He hadn't meant to kill her, just scare her a little, at least
 
   that's what he believed when he started out with her perched on his
 
   saddle, but once he took his knife out and started carving, he got such
 
   a kick out of hearing her scream he didn't want to stop.
 
 
 
   His friends helped him bury the body, and aside from having to listen
 
   to Robertson boast about how she had squealed like a pig, they all put
 
   the inconvenience behind them. Flo was just a whore, after all, and no
 
   one was going to miss her.
 
 
 
   Because they still hadn't heard from Johnson, they assumed he'd failed
 
   to kill the women himself. Robertson told the others he wished their
 
   boss were there because he was much smarter than they were and would
 
   surely be able to figure out where the women were hiding. He wasn't
 
   there though, for he and his mistress had gone south to get Bell out of
 
   jail.
 
 
 
   On the third morning of their watch, they heard through the grapevine
 
   that a U. S. marshal named Cooper had been killed. Someone had shot
 
   him and thrown him off a train. A wire had been sent to the sheriff in
 
   Red Arrow telling him to be on the lookout for any suspicious
 
   characters. He relayed the information to the owner of the saloon, who
 
   told it to everyone who came into his bar for a drink.
 
 
 
   The four men felt they had cause for celebration. They sat together in
 
   the corner and shared a bottle of Rabbit Rye among them.
 
 
 
   Robertson, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, wasn't in a festive mood.
 
 
 
   "What's taking those women so long to get here? According to the
 
   boss's calculations, they should have gotten off the train yesterday or
 
   the day before." He had only just made the remarks when an old coot,
 
   with long straggly hair and a smell about him as rank as a skunk's
 
   spray, came walking into the saloon.
 
 
 
   He strutted up to the bar and draped himself across the counter. "Give
 
   me a drink, Harley. I just seen something real special, and I'll tell
 
   you about it after I wet my whistle." The bartender, a big man with
 
   beefy arms and missing front teeth no one ever noticed because he never
 
   smiled, sauntered over to his customer and squinted at him.
 
 
 
   "You got money today, Gus? " In answer, the misshapen, scrawny man
 
   slammed a coin down on the countertop. "I sure do, " he boasted. "I
 
   got a lot of money today, almost three whole dollars."
 
 
 
   "Where'd you get it? " Harley asked as he poured Gus a watered-down
 
   drink of whiskey.
 
 
 
   "Never you mind, " Gus answered. "Do you want to hear what I seen or
 
   not? " "I'm listening."
 
 
 
   "I think maybe we're getting us some new whores, and the two I saw were
 
   real perty and fresh looking. I seen them both, and I can't make up my
 
   mind which one I want to diddle with first. Maybe I'll do them
 
   both."
 
 
 
   "Are you drunk? " Harley asked.
 
 
 
   "No, I ain't drunk yet, but I plan to get that way as soon as you'll
 
   pour me another drink. I seen what I seen, " he insisted. "Two men
 
   were with them, " he added before taking a long gulp. In his greed to
 
   quench his insatiable thirst, he spilled liquor down the sides of his
 
   face and quickly tried to catch the drops with the back of his hands
 
   and then licked them dry.
 
 
 
   "They hid them all right, but I seen where. I went looking for Flo.
 
 
 
   Didn't find her, " he said. "But I seen the women all right."
 
 
 
   "What are you talking about, you old goat? There aren't any fresh
 
   whores coming here. I would have known about it. Don't I run this
 
   town? " "Yes, Harley, you surely do."
 
 
 
   "That's right, " he growled. "And I'm telling you, I didn't hire any
 
   new women."
 
 
 
   "I'm telling you what I seen. Two men hid those perty girls in the
 
   cavern just south of town.
 
 
 
   Maybe these men are gonna give you some competition and start up a
 
   whoring business of their own." Harley slammed his hand on the bar.
 
 
 
   "We'll just see about that, " he hissed. "Now that Flo took off, I
 
   could use a couple more good women.
 
 
 
   Did you say there were only two men with them? Just two? " "That's
 
   what I said, " Gus agreed. "Not too smart neither. Those two fellers
 
   left those women on their own, tucked inside the cavern, but one of
 
   them must have gotten curious, because she poked her head out the
 
   entrance to have herself a look around. Then the other one had to look
 
   too, and I seen them both. They're mighty fine looking, " he added
 
   with a snicker. "Nice and young, and sure to be feisty." Harley was
 
   fuming. He was considering riding out to the cavern to steal the women
 
   when Robertson strolled over to the bar.
 
 
 
   Gus's stench ensured that Robertson wouldn't get too close. "Tell me
 
   what you saw, old man, " he demanded, his hand caressing the handle on
 
   his knife. "I want to hear all about those women." It had been a long
 
   while since Gus had been the center of attention, and he gloated while
 
   he repeated the story, but before he got the chance to describe the two
 
   ladies in detail, Robertson had motioned to his friends and left the
 
   saloon. The three others followed him out the door.
 
 
 
   They were gone a long time, almost three hours, and when they returned
 
   to the saloon, Gus was nowhere in sight. Robertson wanted to go
 
   looking for him, but the others talked him out of it. They reclaimed
 
   their table in the corner to discuss the situation.
 
 
 
   Cole strode through the swinging barroom doors a moment later. Harley
 
   took one look at the badge on his vest and reached for the shotgun he
 
   kept tucked under the counter.
 
 
 
   "Put your hands on the counter, where I can see them, " Cole ordered.
 
 
 
   He was being inordinately polite. Inwardly, he wanted to wait until
 
   the bartender had gone for his weapon and then shoot the insolent look
 
   off his face, but now that he was a marshal, he knew he couldn't give
 
   in to all of his urges.
 
 
 
   "The sheriff told me all about you, Harley, " Cole said. "He said you
 
   think you run this one-block town."
 
 
 
   "It's true, " Harley boasted. "I do run it."
 
 
 
   "He also told me you shot a man in the back."
 
 
 
   "The sheriff couldn't prove it was me, " the bartender said, his face
 
   turning red with anger. "I don't want any trouble." The four men at
 
   the table were watching Cole closely. Cole's attention was riveted on
 
   them, but he still noticed that Harley's hands were down at his
 
   sides.
 
 
 
   "I told you to put your hands up where I can see them. Do it now. "
 
   The force of his voice, added to the dangerous look in his eyes, should
 
   have convinced Harley to do as he ordered. The bartender was obviously
 
   weighing the possible consequences as his glance darted back and forth
 
   between the men in the corner and the lawman.
 
 
 
   He tested Cole sorely when he put one hand on the counter and waited.
 
 
 
   "I wasn't thinking about shooting you, " Harley lied. "You being a
 
   lawman and all. I just don't want any trouble. I got me a brand-new
 
   mirror, and I . . . " Before Harley could blink, Cole drew his gun and
 
   shot the mirror. Glass shattered down on Harley's shoulders. The
 
   bartender roared an obscenity and put both hands on the counter.
 
 
 
   Besides the four men at the back table, there were only three other
 
   customers inside the saloon, and those three went running for safety.
 
 
 
   Cole made certain none of them were armed as they filed past him, as
 
   the notion of getting a bullet in his back didn't sit well.
 
 
 
   "What did you want here? " Harley demanded.
 
 
 
   Cole nodded toward the four men. "It's a personal matter." The
 
   tallest of the gang stood up first. "We don't know you, mister. "
 
   "You will by the time I'm finished with you, " he promised. "Now, all
 
   of you get up, and take it slow and easy. I'm taking you boys to
 
   jail.
 
 
 
   " "You've got no right to arrest us, " a man with a puckered scar
 
   across his cheek protested. "We haven't done anything wrong." Cole's
 
   attention stayed on the man with the knife. "Is your name Robertson?
 
 
 
   " The question got a swift reaction. Robertson's eyes bulged. "What
 
   of it? " Cole didn't explain. "Which one of you is Bell? " "None of
 
   us go by that name, " Robertson said.
 
 
 
   "Never heard of him, " one of the others said.
 
 
 
   "What's this all about, Marshal? " Robertson asked, his voice reeking
 
   congeniality. "Like my friend told you, we haven't done anything
 
   wrong."
 
 
 
   "I'm not arresting you, " Cole said. "At least not yet.
 
 
 
   We're going to go on over to the jail. There's a lady waiting there to
 
   have a look at you." The men's demeanor rapidly changed, and they
 
   suddenly turned into a pack of cornered jackals.
 
 
 
   "I don't know what you're talking about, " one of the others
 
   protested.
 
 
 
   Robertson glanced at the man on his left. "We can take him."
 
 
 
   "You're welcome to try, " Cole said, and finally let some of his fury
 
   explode.
 
 
 
   "Damn, but I want you to try." Scar Face snickered. "Four against
 
   one? You must think you're fast, Marshal." Cole shrugged. "Why don't
 
   you find out? I'll get every one of you, and I won't make you kneel
 
   down first." Scar Face twitched, and Robertson paled.
 
 
 
   "We can take you, " Robertson said, his eyes narrowing as he studied
 
   his adversary. "You think you're as fast as lightning? " Cole
 
   smiled.
 
 
 
   "Nah, " he drawled out, deliberately baiting them. "Folks say I'm all
 
   thunder." With a tilt of his head, he added, "He's lightning. "
 
   Daniel was standing inside the back door. The men whirled around and
 
   then turned back to Cole. They were trapped, and they knew it.
 
 
 
   "You've got five seconds to put your guns on the table, " Daniel
 
   said.
 
 
 
   Robertson was the first to go for his gun. Shouting, "Now, " he swung
 
   left and dropped. Cole shot him in the chest just as his hand reached
 
   his holster. The other three had also gone for their guns. Daniel
 
   shot two dead and left the last man for Cole, who put a bullet through
 
   his throat.
 
 
 
   Cole was putting his gun away when he and Daniel saw the bartender
 
   raise his shotgun. They fired simultaneously and watched without
 
   expression as Harley fell across the counter. His shotgun crashed to
 
   the floor.
 
 
 
   Cole hadn't killed Robertson. He was sprawled on the floor, his back
 
   against the wall, whimpering in pain. Blood trickled down from the
 
   wound in his chest.
 
 
 
   Daniel squatted beside him. "Tell me the name of the man in charge. "
 
   He put the barrel of his gun to Robertson's temple. "If you want to
 
   die quick, give me the name. Otherwise you're going to die real
 
   slow.
 
 
 
   " He started counting.
 
 
 
   Cole rushed across the room. "Don't do it, Daniel. He isn't worth
 
   it.
 
 
 
   " Daniel didn't hear him. "Give me the name." Robertson started
 
   crying. "I'm hurt. I'm hurt bad, " he sobbed. "You've got to get the
 
   doc to fix me up." Cole ignored his whining. The hate in Daniel's
 
   eyes scared the hell out of him, and he knew he had to figure out some
 
   way to make him let go of his rage before it was too late.
 
 
 
   "Put the gun away, " Cole said softly. "Jessica saw him. She can
 
   point him out to us." Daniel's eyes were glazed with anguish as he
 
   glanced up at Cole. Then he shook his head and pressed the gun against
 
   Robertson's temple.
 
 
 
   "No, she only saw his eyes and heard his voice. Without a name . .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   " Cole put his hand on Daniel's shoulder. "We'll get him, " he
 
   promised.
 
 
 
   "Don't do it this way. You have to keep him alive."
 
 
 
   "No."
 
 
 
   "Yes, " Cole argued. "Don't do it this way. I can't let you kill
 
   him.
 
 
 
   " "Then walk away, " Daniel demanded.
 
 
 
   Cole reached down and pushed the gun away from Robertson. "We're in
 
   this together, " he said. "We will get him . . . We'll get all of
 
   them." Daniel suddenly came to his senses. With a shudder, he jerked
 
   back and stood. "Bring Jessica in here." Cole shook his head. "I
 
   don't want her to see this mess. There's blood everywhere."
 
 
 
   "She has to look at them, just to make certain." Gus came charging
 
   into the saloon but staggered to a quick stop when he saw the marshals'
 
   guns pointed at him.
 
 
 
   "It's just me, " he stammered.
 
 
 
   Cole and Daniel holstered their guns. "You gave me a start, drawing on
 
   me like that, " Gus said.
 
 
 
   He strutted across the room, looking as pleased as could be. "I did
 
   all right, didn't I? " he asked, craving a compliment.
 
 
 
   "Yeah, you did just fine, " Cole said.
 
 
 
   "I was worried Harley wouldn't believe me, but he fell right into my
 
   hands, and then those four went running out of here. Did you follow
 
   them to the cavern? " "Yes, " Cole answered.
 
 
 
   "I'm real good at lying, " Gus said. "But I got to ask you just one
 
   question before I leave you to your jobs. I was wondering . . . are
 
   there really two women here? " "Yes, there are."
 
 
 
   "Are they fresh whores? " Neither marshal liked the question. Gus
 
   hurriedly put his hand up in conciliation. "I don't mean no disrespect
 
   if they ain't."
 
 
 
   "You're the one who came up with that lie, not us, " Cole reminded
 
   him.
 
 
 
   "It was a good lie, wasn't it? Where do you have them hidden? " "The
 
   safest place in town, " Cole answered.
 
 
 
   "Gus, go get help for me, " Robertson cried out. "I'm hurting bad. "
 
   "I ain't gonna help you. I know you did something bad to Flo, cause I
 
   seen you riding out of town with her. She was a sweet old gal and I
 
   know you hurt her." Gus realized a golden opportunity was slipping by
 
   and ran to the bar to grab two bottles of whiskey. Three sounded
 
   better to him, and he snatched up another one. He rounded the corner
 
   of the bar with his booty clutched to his chest, stopped to spit on
 
   Harley's head, then hurried to the door, his fervent hope to get away
 
   before the marshals noticed his thievery.
 
 
 
   Daniel and Cole searched through the dead men's pockets, looking for
 
   identification, while Robertson continued to blubber like a baby. The
 
   noise was distracting. Frustrated at not being able to find anything,
 
   Cole grabbed Robertson and demanded that he tell his friends' names.
 
 
 
   "I'm not telling you anything, " Robertson answered in a near shout.
 
 
 
   "The boss will kill me."
 
 
 
   "I'll kill you if you don't, " Daniel threatened.
 
 
 
   Cole spied Gus still hovering in the doorway. "Is there something you
 
   wanted? " "Did you find any money in their pockets? I could sure use
 
   some extra, I know you already gave me three dollars, but I hate to see
 
   good money buried with them."
 
 
 
   "You can take the whiskey, Gus, " Daniel called out. "But that's
 
   all."
 
 
 
   "Marshal? " "What now? " Cole asked.
 
 
 
   "I sure would like to get a look at them women. Could you maybe tell
 
   me what cavern they're in? " "They aren't in a cavern, " Daniel
 
   said.
 
 
 
   "They're in jail." Gus grimaced. "Never mind, then. I ain't going
 
   over there." Daniel left Cole to watch over Robertson while he went to
 
   get Jessica.
 
 
 
   The sheriff was waiting outside the front door, and Daniel asked him to
 
   find a doctor for Robertson.
 
 
 
   "Are you sure you want to save him? " the sheriff asked.
 
 
 
   "No, but get the doctor anyway." Jessica and Grace were sitting at the
 
   desk, but both jumped up as soon as they saw Daniel. Grace was so
 
   overwhelmed at the sight of him alive and well she threw herself into
 
   his arms.
 
 
 
   Shocked by how much he needed to hold her, he hugged her tight.
 
 
 
   "We heard the shots, but we didn't know . . . Oh, Daniel, I'm so happy
 
   you weren't hurt. ""Is Cole . . . ? " Jessica began.
 
 
 
   "He's fine." She was so relieved she had to sit again. Daniel
 
   continued to hold Grace until she calmed down and stopped shaking.
 
 
 
   Then he realized she wasn't shaking, he was. It had been a close call,
 
   and he wantedţno, he needed to tell her what had happened and how he
 
   had almost crossed the line between the law and a personal vendetta.
 
 
 
   Grace would understand the torment he was going through.
 
 
 
   "Did you get all of them, Daniel? " Jessica asked.
 
 
 
   "No. There's still one unaccounted for. You're going to have to look
 
   at the men. Three are dead." He added the warning so she could
 
   prepare herself for what she was going to see. "I hate to ask, but I
 
   have to know if they were hired thugs or part of the gang."
 
 
 
   "I understand."
 
 
 
   "I'm going with you, " Grace told Jessica, ignoring the fact that
 
   Daniel was shaking his head at her.
 
 
 
   "I would rather you waited here." She patted his chest. "I know you
 
   would, but I'm going with her, " she insisted, and before he could
 
   argue, she went to the door and pulled it open. "Come on, Jessica.
 
 
 
   Let's get this over and done with." Jessica led the way. She was
 
   worried about how she would react to the sight of the dead men and
 
   didn't want to disgrace herself in front of Cole. She was a strong
 
   woman, she reminded herself. She could and would get through this.
 
 
 
   Grace's hand kept brushing against Daniel's as they walked along, but
 
   she couldn't make herself move away from him. She couldn't stop
 
   looking at him either and kept glancing up just to make certain he
 
   wasn't going to vanish. When she had heard the gunshots, her heart had
 
   felt as though it had stopped, and it wasn't until that very moment
 
   that she realized how much she loved him. No, that wasn't true, she
 
   thought. She'd known for a long time, she just hadn't been willing to
 
   acknowledge it because of the complications and the pain he would cause
 
   her.
 
 
 
   l He had been honest from the very beginning. He loved his Kathleen
 
   and no other.
 
 
 
   "Daniel, I know now isn't the time . . . in fact, it's a terrible time
 
   to tell you . . . " He was barely paying attention to her as his gaze
 
   scanned the buildings on either side of the street. There was at least
 
   one member of the Blackwater gang still out there, and Daniel wasn't
 
   taking any chances.
 
 
 
   "Tell me what? " he asked.
 
 
 
   "I've become attached to you." She didn't think he'd heard her
 
   whispered admission, for he showed absolutely no reaction, and she was
 
   glad of it. She shouldn't have said a word, because the timing was all
 
   wrong. She should have waited until they had a quiet moment together
 
   and then admitted how she felt, but she was compelled to tell him this
 
   very moment, fully expecting a rebuke.
 
 
 
   "Yeah, I know." It was such an arrogant response she smiled. "Should
 
   I try to stop? " He looked straight ahead when he answered. "No, I
 
   don't want you to stop."
 
 
 
   "Well then, " she whispered on a sigh.
 
 
 
   Jessica had increased her pace until she was running to the saloon.
 
 
 
   She certainly wasn't in a hurry to view the gruesome scene, but Cole
 
   was inside and she desperately needed to see for herself that he hadn't
 
   been hurt.
 
 
 
   When she reached the swinging doors, she straightened her shoulders and
 
   then pushed the doors aside. She found Cole right away. He was
 
   leaning against the far wall, watching her. A wave of relief made her
 
   weak, and it took all she had not to run to him. She had expected to
 
   be frightened and was prepared to hide her reaction, but what she
 
   didn't expect was the surge of rage that rushed through her. Three of
 
   the men were already dead, but she had the insane urge to shoot them
 
   again.
 
 
 
   She pointed to the first body. "He was there, " she said. "I didn't
 
   hear his name, but I saw him." She moved to the second and third man,
 
   shook her head, and said, "I don't know if these two were in the bank
 
   or not. I didn't see all their faces." She turned to the wounded
 
   man.
 
 
 
   Hate radiated from his eyes as he stared up at her. She neither
 
   flinched nor trembled, her gaze dispassionate as she stared back.
 
 
 
   Yes, he was there. His name is Robertson." She was more shaken than
 
   she realized, for she hadn't noticed that Cole had moved to her side
 
   and that she was holding his hand. She held tight and let him pull her
 
   out the door while Grace and Daniel waited for the sheriff to return
 
   with the doctor.
 
 
 
   As soon as Jessica stepped outside, she turned to Cole. "There's
 
   another one, " she told him. "You shot Johnson, they're holding a man
 
   in jail in Blackwater, and if all four of the men inside were in the
 
   gang, that leaves one missing."
 
 
 
   "And Rebecca, " he said.
 
 
 
   "And Rebecca, " she agreed. "I really want you to get her."
 
 
 
   "We will, " he promised.
 
 
 
   CZ a t was a race against the clock to get to Blackwater, and Daniel
 
   pressed hard. He was obsessed now with getting to the jail so Jessica
 
   could tell him if the man they were holding was Bell. He hadn't
 
   thought the rest of it through, and didn't know what he would do if she
 
   confirmed that this was the man who had killed his little girl.
 
 
 
   The women didn't complain about the grueling pace, but the group
 
   stopped when the sun was going down and made camp by a clear stream.
 
 
 
   Daniel had wanted to push on, but Cole refused.
 
 
 
   While Grace and Jessica unpacked the food Cole had gotten in town,
 
   Daniel paced.
 
 
 
   "We should keep going, " he said. "The moonlight's good tonight. "
 
   Cole shook his head again. "Look at Jessie and Grace, " he
 
   suggested.
 
 
 
   "They're both half dead. The horses aren't in much better shape. "
 
   "But we couldţ" Cole cut him off. "The idea is to get a live witness
 
   there, not a dead one." Daniel came to his senses. "Yeah, you're
 
   right." While he helped Cole with the horses, he kept glancing at
 
   Grace and Jessica. The two of them were covered with dust and looked
 
   too tired to move.
 
 
 
   "Maybe I did push a little hard today, " he conceded.
 
 
 
   Cole was already thinking about tomorrow. "Did you send a wire to the
 
   sheriff in Blackwater? " "Yes, but I didn't get an answer. That
 
   worries me."
 
 
 
   "We'll be there tomorrow afternoon, and then maybe we can finish
 
   this."
 
 
 
   "It still won't be over, " Daniel said. "We have to get Rebecca and
 
   the man in charge."
 
 
 
   "Do you think the man they're holding is Bell? " "Jessica saw him and
 
   said he turned when the leader called his name, and he wasn't one of
 
   the four in the saloon. It has to be Bell."
 
 
 
   "Rebecca could be with Bell."
 
 
 
   "No, she'd align herself with the one running the show. She wouldn't
 
   take up with one of the hirelings."
 
 
 
   "Maybe, but don't get your hopes up." Several minutes passed in
 
   silence while Daniel carried the saddles over to the camp and Cole
 
   brushed the horses.
 
 
 
   "Daniel? " Cole said. "I've been thinking."
 
 
 
   "Yes? " "If Jessica tells you it is Bell, you aren't thinking about
 
   doing anything you'd regret, are you? " "What would you do if you knew
 
   he killed your wife and your baby? " Cole thought it over a long while
 
   before answering.
 
 
 
   "I honestly don't know."
 
 
 
   "Neither do I. I won't know until I look at him."
 
 
 
   "If you kill him, they'll lock you away or hang you."
 
 
 
   "I realize that." You know what's worse than hanging? " "There's
 
   lots of things worse than hanging."
 
 
 
   "Sitting in a cell somewhere knowing that because of you, two of the
 
   gang got away."
 
 
 
   "You'd get them." Cole didn't want to argue the point. "What about
 
   Grace? " Daniel shook his head. "I don't know what to do about her.
 
 
 
   She kind of . . .
 
 
 
   took me by surprise."
 
 
 
   "I know all about that, " Cole admitted.
 
 
 
   "Meaning Jessica? " "I'm that transparent? " "No, but she is, " he
 
   said. "She's always looking at you like she's thinking about shooting
 
   you." Cole grinned. "It's love all right."
 
 
 
   "How can you be so sure? Every one who meets you wants to shoot
 
   you."
 
 
 
   "We're getting married."
 
 
 
   "Has she agreed? " "No." Daniel burst into laughter and was surprised
 
   at how good it made him feel to let his guard down and relax for a few
 
   minutes.
 
 
 
   "Then how do you think you're going to get her to marry you? " Cole
 
   smiled. "Ever hear of a shotgun wedding? " "No, but I've got a
 
   feeling I won't want to miss it."
 
 
 
   "Good, " Cole said, "because your attendance is going to be
 
   required."
 
 
 
   "Why? " "Who do you think is going to hold the shotgun? " They both
 
   laughed.
 
 
 
   Grace turned to smile at Daniel. She and Jessica were sitting side by
 
   side at the edge of the creek, dangling their feet in the water.
 
 
 
   "What do you think they're laughing about? " she asked Jessica.
 
 
 
   "I don't know. I'm trying to figure out where they found the
 
   strength.
 
 
 
   I'm too tired to eat."
 
 
 
   "Me too." S JuLie fanwood Jessica was walking back to camp when she
 
   spotted Cole coming toward her. He wasn't smiling now, but looked
 
   terribly serious, and when he reached her, he didn't say a word. He
 
   simply caught her hand in his and kept walking. She either had to
 
   follow him or fall down.
 
 
 
   "What are you doing? " "You need to work the stiffness out of your
 
   muscles."
 
 
 
   "I'm too exhausted to walk."
 
 
 
   "Walking isn't what I had in mind." Her heart felt as though it had
 
   just skipped a beat. "Oh, no . . . you can't think . . . " "I can if
 
   you'll let me." She tried to tug her hand away, but it was a
 
   halfhearted attempt, and when he tightened his hold, she gave in. He
 
   continued on until they were well away from camp, then turned to her.
 
 
 
   In the moonlight, his face was golden. She stared into his amazingly
 
   beautiful blue eyes, and she thought he was surely the most handsome
 
   man in the whole world. How could he possibly love her? She was so
 
   ordinary and plain, and he could have any woman he wanted. Why had he
 
   chosen her?
 
 
 
   "Do you still love me? " He couldn't believe she had to ask. "Do you
 
   think I would change my mind so swiftly? No, don't answer that, " he
 
   cautioned, "'cause then I'll get mad. Yes, I do still love you. "
 
   "Why? " She was genuinely perplexed. Cole was astonished and realized
 
   then that she had absolutely no idea of her appeal. Hadn't anyone ever
 
   told her how perfect she was?
 
 
 
   "Jessie, when you were a little girl, didn't your mother or father ever
 
   tell you that you were smart and clever and sweet and good-hearted
 
   andţ" He would have gone on and on if she hadn't interrupted him. "My
 
   father left when I was very young. I don't remember much about him
 
   except that I had to stay away from him when he was drinking, and it
 
   seemed he was always holding a glass in one hand and a bottle in the
 
   other."
 
 
 
   "What about your mother? " "I think his leaving changed her, but I
 
   can't be certain. She dried up inside. She used to tell me she had to
 
   be hard on me so I wouldn't make the same mistakes she made."
 
 
 
   "Did she ever praise you? " "I don't remember, " she said. "I loved
 
   my mother, but I don't want to be like her, and I'm afraid that maybe
 
   it's too late for me to change."
 
 
 
   "You aren't like her, " he said.
 
 
 
   "You don't know how to be hard." When she tried to turn away, he
 
   tilted her chin so she would look at him again.
 
 
 
   "You praise Caleb all the time. I've heard you tell him how smart he
 
   is and how sweet . . . " "Children need to know they're loved. They
 
   must have constant reassurance."
 
 
 
   "You need to be reassured too, don't you? " She didn't answer him.
 
 
 
   "Do you know what attracted me to you? " She shook her head.
 
 
 
   "When I first met you, you were standing behind a screen door at
 
   Tilly's house. Remember? " "I was terrified."
 
 
 
   "Yeah, I know you were. Well, I thought you were about the prettiest
 
   woman in the territory."
 
 
 
   "You did? " she whispered breathlessly. "I was wearing an old, faded
 
   dress." He laughed. "I didn't pay much attention to what you had
 
   on.
 
 
 
   I was trying to picture what was underneath. You have a very shapely
 
   body, Jessie, and I couldn't wait to get my hands on you." He couldn't
 
   believe she was blushing, yet she was, and he thought that was one of
 
   the hundred or so reasons why he loved her.
 
 
 
   "I was already intrigued, because I had heard about this young lady who
 
   went to visit her aunt and ended up taking on the responsibility of
 
   becoming a mother to a newborn. Do you know how few women would have
 
   done what you did? The responsibility of raising a child alone is
 
   staggering, and a lot of women couldn't or wouldn't have done it. They
 
   would have dropped him off at the nearest foundling home and gone on
 
   their way."
 
 
 
   "It isn't a hardship. Caleb's the joy of my life."
 
 
 
   "Remember I told you how my brothers and I became a family? I was part
 
   of a gang back then and awfully young when we found Mary Rose in the
 
   alley we called home. I was headed for disaster, " he added. "Mary
 
   Rose changed my life and so did my brothers. I didn't raise my sister
 
   alone, though.
 
 
 
   I had three brothers to help."
 
 
 
   "But Iţ" Before she could continue, he interrupted. "I love your
 
   strength and your courage, and I love the fact that you bring out the
 
   best in me.
 
 
 
   Those are just a couple of the reasons." He gently cupped the sides of
 
   her face. "I didn't want to fall in love with you."
 
 
 
   "Then why don't you stop? " she asked gently.
 
 
 
   "Sweetheart, that's like asking me to stop breathing. Ah, Jessie, I
 
   need you in my life." He bent down and proceeded to drive her crazy by
 
   kissing every inch of her throat.
 
 
 
   "How come you always smell like flowers? " The question was simply too
 
   complicated to answer. She should stop him, she thought, even as she
 
   tilted her head so he could kiss the spot directly under her earlobe
 
   that was so sensitive to his touch.
 
 
 
   "You're doing it on purpose . . . You know how much I like . . . but
 
   we can't . . . " $'One kiss, Jessie. Just one kiss." Her hands were
 
   gripping his shirt, and she didn't protest at all or turn away.
 
 
 
   It felt so wonderful, so right, to be in his arms. The seduction of
 
   his loving words was her undoing. She leaned up on tiptoe and
 
   willingly let herself be swept away. His mouth moved over hers
 
   greedily. Passion was instantaneous, explosive. One kiss wasn't
 
   enough for either one of them, and as his mouth slanted over hers again
 
   and again, she began to shiver with her need.
 
 
 
   She didn't want him to stop. When he lifted his head, she leaned up
 
   and kissed him again.
 
 
 
   He stopped her from going any further. He pried her hands away from
 
   his shirt, wrapped her in his arms, and tried to catch his breath.
 
 
 
   "You don't know how to hold back, do you, sweetheart? " He sounded
 
   happy about that fact, and so she didn't ask him to explain.
 
 
 
   Draping his arm around her shoulder, he led her back to camp. "I'm
 
   going to have to teach you all about pacing." He smiled just thinking
 
   about it.
 
 
 
   She tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but his kisses had
 
   robbed her of the ability to think about anything at all but making
 
   love to him. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I used to be a lady
 
   until you came into my life."
 
 
 
   "You still are a lady."
 
 
 
   "I knew what I was doing the other night. I practically seduced you,
 
   and I promised myself that we would have one night together, but just a
 
   couple of minutes ago, I was thinking about having one more night." He
 
   groaned.
 
 
 
   "Jessie, we need to talk about something else."
 
 
 
   "Why? " He decided to be blunt. "Because I'm already hot and
 
   bothered, and if you keep talking about making love again, I wonXt be
 
   able to hold out until after we're married." He squeezed her. "Don't
 
   you dare ask me how long I'll stay with you."
 
 
 
   "I wasn't going to ask you that."
 
 
 
   "Yes, you were."
 
 
 
   "What if I can't ever give you what you want, what you deserve? A wife
 
   should be able to trust her husband, but I don't think I could ever .
 
 
 
   .
 
 
 
   . What if . . . " He didn't let her finish. "Then I guess you're
 
   going to be real worried every time I leave the house. I'll always
 
   come back to you and Caleb, though, and maybe in about twenty years or
 
   so, you'll catch on. I'm in this for the long haul. I meant it when I
 
   told you it was forever. And by the way, you will tell me you love me
 
   before our wedding day. Now please change the subject."
 
 
 
   "Do you think Caleb's all right? " "Yes, " he answered. "He's
 
   probably going to have an aversion to fried foods for the rest of his
 
   life, but he's being loved and spoiled."
 
 
 
   "I had a nice long talk with Tom, " she remarked.
 
 
 
   "What'd you talk about? " "You." He shot her a glance. "What'd he
 
   tell you? " "He was full of stories about you."
 
 
 
   "Like what? " "Abilene." His shoulders sagged. "I had hoped to get
 
   married before you found out about that."
 
 
 
   "You act like you did something wrong."
 
 
 
   "I shot a woman, Jessie." He waited for her to grill him with
 
   questions or tell him he'd been wrong to take that chance with a
 
   woman's life hanging in the balance.
 
 
 
   "It was very clever of you." He stopped dead in his tracks. "What?
 
 
 
   " "I said it was very clever of you."
 
 
 
   "I shot the woman, " he reminded her.
 
 
 
   "Oh, it was a flesh wound. You're very good with a gun, aren't you? "
 
   "Jessie, you act like we're talking about the weather. You aren't at
 
   all shocked, are you? " "Of course not."
 
 
 
   "The end doesn't justify the means."
 
 
 
   "You feel guilty."
 
 
 
   "Yes."
 
 
 
   "It was a practical solution."
 
 
 
   "Yes, but . . . " "You saved her life."
 
 
 
   "Then how come I felt so rotten afterwards? " It was the first time
 
   since it had happened that he had admitted the truth to anyone, even
 
   himself.
 
 
 
   He was giving her another glimpse into his heart by letting her see his
 
   vulnerability. He showed the world such a hard, unbending exterior,
 
   but underneath all the shields was a kind, gentle man who cared deeply
 
   about others.
 
 
 
   "Because you're honorable." She leaned up and kissed him, then took
 
   hold of his hand and started walking again. "Grace sold another hat
 
   today."
 
 
 
   "What? " he asked, confused by the rapid change in subjects.
 
 
 
   "I said Grace sold another hat today. Isn't that nice? " Jessica was
 
   ready to move on, and that practical side of her was yet another reason
 
   he had to add to his list when she asked him again why he loved her.
 
 
 
   "Who'd she sell it to? " "A very nice woman . . . Well, she wasn't
 
   nice at first, she was actually quite hostile, but Grace has a way of
 
   putting people at ease and within minutes they were chatting like old
 
   friends. She gave Grace seven dollars. I think she would have paid
 
   more, but Grace said this was a working woman and couldn't spare
 
   another cent. Grace tried to give the woman her hat until she realized
 
   pride was involved. It was a good bargain, don't you think? " "What
 
   kind of job could a woman get in that fleabag town? " "Her office is
 
   in one of the rooms above the saloon." He grinned. "You do know what
 
   she does for a living, don't you? " "Yes, but I wanted to see you
 
   smile again. You worry too much." He would have argued with her, but
 
   they'd reached camp and Grace was sleeping, so he didn't say another
 
   word. He did kiss her good night, though, and was pleased to notice
 
   that she looked thoroughly dazed when he was finished.
 
 
 
   Daniel ignored them. Grace was curled up on her side, facing him.
 
 
 
   After Cole moved his bedroll close to Jessica's, Daniel moved his so
 
   that he could sleep next to Grace. He fell asleep thinking about her,
 
   and sometime during the night he felt her take hold of his hand. For
 
   now, it was enough.
 
 
 
   the curtain was about to rise on the final act.
 
 
 
   Rebecca dressed with care, choosing a virginal white dress with a
 
   modest, yet seductive, neckline. There was just enough cleavage to
 
   ensure that the recently widowed judge would stare. Donald had told
 
   her she would have to convince Rafferty of Bell's innocence before he
 
   could be released by the sheriff.
 
 
 
   She thought about carrying a Bible with her, then changed her mind.
 
 
 
   She mustn't overdo the role she was going to play.
 
 
 
   She finished brushing her hair and stood up to preen in front of the
 
   mirror. Men liked women who wore their hair long and free, and hers
 
   was exceptional. The lustrous curls shimmered in the sunlight like
 
   strands of gold.
 
 
 
   The bedroom door suddenly opened, and her lover strolled inside. She
 
   tossed the brush on the table and turned to him. "You took a chance
 
   coming here. Did anyone see you? " "Of course not. I'm always
 
   careful. I came up the back way." Rebecca dressed in white was such a
 
   mockery he wanted to laugh. She actually looked pure and untouched.
 
 
 
   "Donald, is everything all right? You look perplexed, " she said.
 
 
 
   "Sorry, " he replied. "I was preoccupied. The sight of you in white
 
   stunned me." She smiled. "I thought it was a nice touch."
 
 
 
   "It's fine, just fine, " he said before finally getting down to the
 
   business at hand. "I'm sorry you couldn't be in the courtroom this
 
   morning to watch the pathetic sheriff from Maple Hills make a complete
 
   fool of himself, " he said with a laugh. "He admitted under oath that
 
   he surprised Bell when he snuck up on him and drew his gun. He also
 
   admitted he wasn't wearing his badge and he didn't identify himself.
 
 
 
   By the time Bell's attorney finished reminding the jury that his client
 
   was deathly ill at the time and blinded with a raging fever, he had all
 
   twelve men in the palm of his hands. I swear they were glaring at the
 
   sheriff when he shuffled away from the stand. I doubt he'll get
 
   reelected." The news thrilled her. "Then the attempted murder charge
 
   has been thrown out? " "Not yet, but it will be this afternoon, " he
 
   assured her. "The judge is dragging the trial out for as long as he
 
   can."
 
 
 
   "If Bell is going to be released, there's no reason for me to carry on
 
   with the charade." He shook his head. "You're still going to have to
 
   go through with it, " he told her. "The judge is itching to hang
 
   Bell.
 
 
 
   He knows he's got his man, and if he can't get him on the charge of
 
   attempted murder, he'll keep him locked up until you convince him Bell
 
   wasn't in the bank."
 
 
 
   "All right, then." She sat down at her dressing table and began to
 
   brush her hair again. "What are you going to do about Bell? Now that
 
   people are suspicious of him, he's become a liability."
 
 
 
   "I'm going to kill him of course, " Donald said.
 
 
 
   "Have you told the others? " "Burton, Harris, and Andrews know. "
 
   "What about Robertson? " "The boys are going to take care of Robertson
 
   for me. It was their idea, not mine. Burton says Robertson is getting
 
   out of control.
 
 
 
   Andrews calls him knife happy." She put her brush down and turned to
 
   him. "Have you heard from Burton yet? " "Don't start fretting. "
 
   "But he was supposed to wire you after they killed Grace and Jessica.
 
 
 
   Have you gotten word from him yet? " "I'm sure they got the job
 
   done.
 
 
 
   They always do, " he added with a grin.
 
 
 
   "Burton couldn't send a wire."
 
 
 
   "Why not? " "The telegraph office here has been shut down for the last
 
   two days.
 
 
 
   The equipment broke down, " he explained. "Don't worry. I checked it
 
   out to make sure it was true."
 
 
 
   "No one in town is getting telegrams?
 
 
 
   " "Oh, they're getting them, but they're being rerouted through the
 
   next town and that's twenty miles away."
 
 
 
   "His wire will probably come tomorrow, then."
 
 
 
   "And we'll be long gone, " he told her.
 
 
 
   "You never told me how Burton and the others feel about disbanding. "
 
   "They're ready to stop for a while. By the time they get the urge
 
   again or run out of money, we'll be setting up house in Paris."
 
 
 
   "If you take care of Bell tonight, we could leave tomorrow." He headed
 
   back to the door. "No, we're leaving tonight. Pack your things and
 
   bring them with you when you meet me outside of town. You know
 
   where.
 
 
 
   " "Yes, " she called out. "I wish you could go with me to see the
 
   judge.
 
 
 
   It would amuse you to watch."
 
 
 
   "You know I can't be seen with you in this town. Every one knows me
 
   here, and they might start wondering how I got hooked up with you.
 
 
 
   I'll be in the courtroom."
 
 
 
   "Yes, I know.
 
 
 
   Where should I go now, straight to the courthouse? " "Go to the
 
   sheriff's office. He'll take you to the courthouse." After giving the
 
   order, he pulled the door closed. He was surprised by the twinge of
 
   regret he felt. He was going to kill her, and he was surprised that he
 
   actually felt sorry for her. Then he started thinking about how he
 
   would kill her tonight, and within minutes he was hard and throbbing.
 
 
 
   All feelings of remorse vanished. He would keep her alive for as long
 
   as he could to prolong his own enjoyment, and he must remember to gag
 
   her so no one would hear her screams for mercy.
 
 
 
   It was a pity really. He had considered taking her with him and then
 
   decided against it. Rebecca was such a striking woman she drew
 
   attention wherever she went. The flawless beauty made her a risk
 
   because everyone, even strangers, remembered her.
 
 
 
   He would miss her though, for he doubted he could ever find another
 
   woman with such a twisted sexual appetite.
 
 
 
   He jerked the door open again, walked inside, and began to unbutton his
 
   pants.
 
 
 
   "No, Donald, " she cried out as she backed away from him. Her face was
 
   already flushed with excitement and fear. "There isn't time." His
 
   laugh was harsh. "There's always time." Rebecca didn't arrive at the
 
   jail until one-thirty that afternoon. It had taken almost two full
 
   hours to pull herself together after she and Donald had finished with
 
   one another. Fortunately, he'd let her take her dress off before it
 
   was ruined. She was still hurting, but she wasn't upset about it
 
   because pain would make her look all the more vulnerable and
 
   frightened.
 
 
 
   The sheriff wasn't there. His deputy, a young man with a horridly
 
   pockmarked complexion, fastened his eyes on her breasts the second she
 
   walked inside. Amused, she stepped forward to shake his hand. His
 
   palms were sweaty, and she had to resist the urge to wipe her hand on
 
   her dress. She introduced herself and explained why she was there.
 
 
 
   "The sheriff was hoping you'd get here soon, " he said. "He's over at
 
   the courthouse waiting to either drag the prisoner back here or let him
 
   go. I think we ought to head over there, because Judge Rafferty won't
 
   end the trial until you eyewitness Bell for him."
 
 
 
   "And if he isn't one of the men I saw in the bank? " She tried to
 
   dazzle him with a smile, but it was wasted on him because he wouldn't
 
   take his gaze off her chest. She really had to remember to tell Donald
 
   about the deputy.
 
 
 
   He'd get a good laugh out of the story.
 
 
 
   "We're all hoping Bell is one of the Blackwater gang, " he told her.
 
 
 
   "Would it be all right if I held your arm while I walked you to the
 
   courthouse? " "I won't mind at all. It's very gentlemanly of you. "
 
   The courthouse was only two blocks away. He took her to the back
 
   entrance and showed her to the judge's chambers adjacent to the
 
   courtroom. She sat down near the desk to wait, while the deputy wrote
 
   a note for the clerk to hand to the judge.
 
 
 
   "I'll bet Rafferty interrupts Bell's closing speech when he reads this,
 
   " he said, waving the note he'd just folded. "Is it okay if I leave
 
   you alone for a few minutes? I'd like to watch old sour face's
 
   expression and hear what he has to say to the fancy attorney."
 
 
 
   "I'll be fine, " she whispered.
 
 
 
   She fought the urge to open the door just a crack and look into the
 
   courtroom, but she didn't dare take the chance because Donald was in
 
   the audience, and if he saw her peeking out, he'd be furious.
 
 
 
   She closed her eyes, cleared her mind, and prepared for her role. ghe
 
   moment had arrived.
 
 
 
   As soon as the deputy returned and opened the door for her, Rebecca
 
   stepped into the courtroom and waited until she was summoned. She
 
   surveyed her audience, noting with pleasure that the room was packed.
 
 
 
   A center aisle leading to a pair of front doors divided the courtroom
 
   in half. Two deputies with rifles stood guard on either side. She
 
   noticed a side door directly across from the door to the judge's
 
   chambers. It too was guarded.
 
 
 
   She was called forward to the witness-box. Every eye in the room was
 
   on her. Her head held high, her expression fearful, she half expected
 
   applause. She was, after all, about to give the performance of her
 
   life.
 
 
 
   Judge Rafferty was so eager to hear her testimony he interrupted the
 
   closing arguments so that she could take the stand. As she walked past
 
   him to take her seat behind the railing, she looked him over closely
 
   and came to the conclusion that it would take very little effort on her
 
   part to get him in the palm of her hand. Rafferty was a heavyset,
 
   middle-aged man with eyeglasses so thick his owlish eyes appeared to be
 
   three times the normal size.
 
 
 
   She also noticed he was taken with her. He smiled, he gawked, and she
 
   couldn't have been happier.
 
 
 
   She v. as being sworn in by the clerk when the defense attorney leapt
 
   to his feet and demanded the judge's attention.
 
 
 
   "Your Honor, this is highly irregular, " he protested. "Couldn't you
 
   wait until the prosecutor and I have finished up and the jury has left
 
   the courtroom to deliberate? My client is being tried on the charge of
 
   attempted murder. The prosecutor is trying to prove that my client
 
   willfully and with malice in mind tried to kill the Maple Hills
 
   sheriff.
 
 
 
   This case shouldn't be muddled up with a witness testifying about an
 
   altogether different matter." The judge peered at the upstart over the
 
   top of his glasses. "I'm fully aware of what this case is all about.
 
 
 
   Do you think I've been sitting up here twiddling my thumbs and
 
   daydreaming about fishing, Mr. Proctor? Is that what you think I've
 
   been doing? " "No, Your Honor, I don'tţ" The judge wouldn't let him
 
   continue. "What you're saying, Proctor, is that you don't think that
 
   what the witness has to say is relevant, but I say it is. If your
 
   client is who I think he is, then the jury needs to know it because he
 
   would have been fleeing and he would have tried to kill the sheriff and
 
   he would have tried it with what you call malice in mind."
 
 
 
   "But, Your Honorţ" "Mr. Proctor, you need to understand. No one tells
 
   me what to do in my own courtroom, and that includes fancy-pants
 
   lawyers like you.
 
 
 
   I know you're young and inexperienced and that you think you know just
 
   about everything there is to know, but I make the rules here. Now sit
 
   down and be quiet until I finish with my witness. You understand me?
 
 
 
   " "Yes, Your Honor."
 
 
 
   "Then why aren't you sitting? " The crowd burst into laughter when
 
   Proctor tripped in his hurry to take his seat.
 
 
 
   The judge wasn't amused. He slammed his gavel on the desk and demanded
 
   silence. "I'll have order in my court. If I hear another sound out of
 
   any of you, I'll clear you out.
 
 
 
   "Like I said before, I make the rules here, not you. Sit." He
 
   bellowed the command, but by the time he swung around to Rebecca, he
 
   had mellowed considerably.
 
 
 
   "I sure would like to cut to the chase and ask you plain out, but I'm
 
   not going to do that. First, I want you to tell the jury who you are
 
   and what happened to you." Her moment had finally arrived. Gripping
 
   her hands together on the railing so the jury could see them, she took
 
   a shuddering breath and began. She told them why she had been in the
 
   bank and what she had seen.
 
 
 
   Tears came easily, and her voice had a halting quality she was quite
 
   proud of, and by the time her story ended, she was sure there wasn't a
 
   dry eye in the courtroom.
 
 
 
   The judge was as shaken as the jury by her gut-wrenching recollection
 
   of the murders. He sat hunched over his desk, leaning toward her as
 
   though he thought his nearness would somehow comfort her.
 
 
 
   "All right, then, " he said. "I know how hard it was for you to go
 
   through it again, and I appreciate it. Now, I want you to look at the
 
   man shackled to the table over on your right and tell me if he was one
 
   of the men in the bank." Rebecca stared at Bell for several seconds
 
   before shaking her head.
 
 
 
   "No, " she cried out. "He wasn't there." The judge's face betrayed
 
   his disappointment. His frustration was palpable, but he wasn't ready
 
   to give up. "Take your time and look him over real good before you
 
   make up your mind." She did as he instructed. "I'm so sorry, Your
 
   Honor. I wish he were one of the Blackwater gang, but he isn't. I
 
   swear to you he wasn't there." Bell's attorney was grinning from ear
 
   to ear, and that offended the judge almost as much as her devastating
 
   testimony.
 
 
 
   "Don't even think about getting to your feet again, Proctor. You keep
 
   your seat glued to your chair until I'm finished. I've got a couple of
 
   nagging points I want to clear up before I let this young lady leave
 
   the stand." Rebecca bowed her head and pretended she was desperately
 
   trying to compose herself. She knew the judge was watching her
 
   closely, and when she looked up at him again, she felt a burst of
 
   gloating satisfaction over Rafferty's compassionate gaze.
 
 
 
   "I'm going to make this quick, " he promised. "I just have a couple of
 
   questions. Are you up to answering them now, or would you like a
 
   recess? " "I'd like to finish now, please." He immediately asked his
 
   first question. "I ordered three women brought here, and I'm curious
 
   to know where the other two are. Do you have any information about
 
   their whereabouts? " "No, I don't. When Marshal Cooper told me Grace
 
   and Jessica were also being brought here I felt terrible, just
 
   terrible. Their lives have been uprooted because of me. If I had told
 
   the truth from the beginning, none of this would be happening to
 
   them.
 
 
 
   They've become dear friends. I expected them to be here when I
 
   arrived, and I was looking forward to seeing them and telling them how
 
   sorry I am. I'm sure they were just delayed. Grace wasn't feeling
 
   well when I left her. She might have had a relapse."
 
 
 
   "Let's move on to the next question. You said you got on the train
 
   with Marshal Cooper and that he left your compartment and didn't come
 
   back.
 
 
 
   Why did he leave? " "I had a pounding headache and my medicine was in
 
   my suitcase. Because Marshal Cooper was such a gentleman, he insisted
 
   on going to the baggage compartment to fetch it for me. If I hadn't
 
   complained . . . if I had suffered in silence . . . he would still be
 
   alive. It's my fault he's dead, all . . . my . . . fault." She
 
   buried her face in her hands and began to sob. Rafferty looked at the
 
   jury and noticed their united sympathy for the poor woman.
 
 
 
   He realized he had better hurry up then before a rebellion broke out.
 
 
 
   "We're almost done, " he announced. "Tell me what happened when you
 
   heard the gunshots. Do you recollect how many you heard? " She wiped
 
   her face with the handkerchief as she nodded. "I'm pretty sure I heard
 
   two shots fired. I was too frightened to find out what was
 
   happening.
 
 
 
   The train made an unexpected stop, and that's when I heard that poor
 
   Marshal Cooper had been killed."
 
 
 
   "And then what did you do? " "I was afraid to get back on the train.
 
 
 
   I didn't know what to do, " she cried out. "I hid in the brush and
 
   waited until everyone had gone. I don't know how long I stayed there
 
   .
 
 
 
   . . It could have been hours, " she stammered. "When I was finally
 
   able to pull myself together, I ran into town."
 
 
 
   "But you didn't go to the sheriff there, and that's one of the little
 
   nagging points I'm confused about. Why didn't you seek his help? " "I
 
   was terrified, " she cried out. "And I didn't know who to trust. I
 
   wanted to get away from there. I knew you were waiting for me, Your
 
   Honor, and that you would protect me. All I could think about was
 
   getting here . . . to you." His expression was comical to her.
 
 
 
   Rafferty looked as though his dog had just been put down.
 
 
 
   "You did the right thing, " he said gruffly. "I'm not going to fault
 
   you because you came here, and that's exactly what I ordered you to
 
   do.
 
 
 
   You've been very brave. Very brave indeed." The prosecutor stood
 
   up.
 
 
 
   "Your Honor, before we go any further, will you please ask Miss James
 
   one last time to look at the defendant. Maybe recalling the sequence
 
   of events . . . " "This poor woman has been through a terrible time, "
 
   the judge said.
 
 
 
   "You and I both have to accept that we were about to hang an innocent
 
   man."
 
 
 
   "Please, Your Honor, " the prosecutor pleaded.
 
 
 
   "I don't mind, " Bell's attorney called out.
 
 
 
   The judge ordered the sheriff to unshackle the defendant and bring him
 
   over so that the witness could get a close look at him. When Bell
 
   stood in front of the railing, the judge reluctantly turned back to
 
   Rebecca.
 
 
 
   "This is the last time I'll ask you. Is the man standing in front of
 
   you one of the Blackwater gang? " "No, he isn't, " she insisted.
 
 
 
   "Yes, he is! " The shout came from the doorway of the judge's
 
   chambers. Every one turned as Jessica slowly walked forward into the
 
   courtroom. She wanted to run to the stand and tear Rebecca from her
 
   seat so outraged was she, but Daniel had made her promise not to go any
 
   farther than the defense table so that she wouldn't be near the killers
 
   she was condemning.
 
 
 
   The rage was building momentum inside her. Images kept flashing into
 
   her mind. Malcolm down on his knees looking up earnestly as he tried
 
   to be helpful . . . Cole carrying her baby across the fiery inferno,
 
   the roof collapsing behind him. . . Franklin's head exploding . . .
 
 
 
   Daniel grabbed her arm to keep her from going any farther. He stayed
 
   by her side, but Cole had already moved to the center aisle and was
 
   diligently searching the audience for signs of hidden weapons.
 
 
 
   "He was in the bank. I saw him put his gun to the back of a man's head
 
   and shoot him. I saw everything, " she shouted, "because I was
 
   there.
 
 
 
   " She was pointing at Bell when she made her accusations, but her
 
   attention was centered on the woman who'd tried to kill Caleb and who'd
 
   shot Marshal Cooper. Rebecca was shaking her head in denial as she
 
   started to stand, then fell back against the chair. Her face was so
 
   white she looked as though she were rapidly bleeding to death.
 
 
 
   The crowd was going wild, the judge was pounding his gavel, and in the
 
   fracas a young deputy in the back of the room shouted, "Those men are
 
   armed, Judge." He then tried to bring his rifle up.
 
 
 
   Before anyone in the crowd could summon a scream or dive for cover,
 
   Daniel's gun was out, his arm fully extended, his target the center of
 
   the deputy's forehead. The man hadn't even gotten his rifle past his
 
   waist when he realized it was too late.
 
 
 
   "Put the gun down, boy." The command was given in a deep, yet
 
   surprisingly calm, voice.
 
 
 
   Out of the corner of his eye, Cole had seen Daniel draw his gun on the
 
   deputy and had already whirled around to face the only other men in the
 
   courtroom who were armed. The sheriff was one, a deputy standing in
 
   front of the side door was the other.
 
 
 
   It was an instinctive reaction on the sheriff's part to go for his gun
 
   as soon as his deputy shouted, but Cole had his gun trained on him the
 
   second his fingers wiggled. Cole simply shook his head at the
 
   sheriff.
 
 
 
   The message was clear.
 
 
 
   Rebecca frantically searched the audience for Donald. He had promised
 
   her he would sit in the third or fourth row. She slowly slipped her
 
   hand into her pocket.
 
 
 
   The judge came out of his seat and leaned forward with both hands
 
   planted on his desk as he roared, "What's the matter with you people?
 
 
 
   Don't you know better than to draw on two U. S. marshals? Even I can
 
   see their badges, and I'm as blind as a bat." Rafferty's voice lashed
 
   out over the crowd and was so thunderous he was able to get through to
 
   them and avert a panic. A collective sigh rolled through the assembly
 
   as everyone calmed down. Several men chuckled with relief.
 
 
 
   Rebecca was slowly bringing her derringer out of her pocket, holding it
 
   steady in the palm of her hand with her thumb pressed against the
 
   barrel. She found Donald quickly, he was sitting at the end of the
 
   fourth row next to the aisle on her side of the courtroom. He was
 
   close, very close, and as she watched him, he gave her a barely
 
   perceptible nod before turning his attention to the deputy guarding the
 
   side door on her left. She understood what he was telling her and
 
   looked at Bell.
 
 
 
   The judge took his seat, adjusted his flowing black robe, and squinted
 
   at the assembly. They still appeared to be a little unnerved, and he
 
   decided to give them another minute to recover.
 
 
 
   "Marshals, you can holster your guns, " he ordered. "Which one of you
 
   is Daniel Ryan? " "I am, Your Honor." The judge motioned him to the
 
   bench. "You sure cut it awfully close getting here, " he remarked.
 
 
 
   Daniel didn't offer any excuses or explanations. "Yes, Your Honor, we
 
   did."
 
 
 
   "I happen to know a great deal about you, son, because I make it my
 
   business to find out everything I can about men like you, and I have
 
   only one thing to say. It's an honor and a privilege to finally meet
 
   you." Daniel didn't know what to say in response. The judge had
 
   already turned his attention to Cole. "What's your name, Marshal? "
 
   "Cole Clayborne." Rafferty nodded. "I've heard a tale or two about
 
   you as well. Of course, I know the stories can't possibly be true. "
 
   "I'm sure they aren't, Your Honor, " Cole answered, wondering why the
 
   man wasn't getting to the urgent matter at hand. Cole kept glancing at
 
   Daniel to make sure he was still in control. He noticed the way Daniel
 
   was watching Bell, and knew that wasn't a good sign.
 
 
 
   The judge rose to address his assembly. "All right now. I've given
 
   you enough time to soothe your ruffled feathers and settle down. From
 
   this point on, I don't want to hear one peep out of any of you. If I
 
   do, I swear I'll order these fine marshals to escort you out the front
 
   doors." Silence resulted from his firm decree. Rafferty turned to
 
   Jessica and sat back. "Young lady, who are you? " "My name is Jessica
 
   Summers."
 
 
 
   "State your business with this court." She took a step closer to the
 
   center of the bench and looked up at the judge.
 
 
 
   "I witnessedţ" "I'm your witness, " Rebecca screamed.
 
 
 
   "I'm telling the truth, " Jessica insisted.
 
 
 
   "She's lying, Judge, " Rebecca countered. "I was there." Heads turned
 
   back and forth from one side of the courtroom to the other as
 
   accusations were volleyed. Daniel crossed behind Jessica and handed
 
   the judge a paper.
 
 
 
   Rafferty noted the seal at the bottom of the sheet, read the contents,
 
   and nodded. "Well . . . well . . . " Shaking with rage, Jessica was
 
   irrationally determined to make Rebecca tell the truth. First, she
 
   knew, she would have to make the woman lose her control.
 
 
 
   "Move back, Jessica, " Cole ordered when she took a step forward.
 
 
 
   Jessica quickly did as he ordered, but didn't take her attention off
 
   the woman she was determined to destroy.
 
 
 
   "Cuff that prisoner, Sheriff, " Daniel ordered.
 
 
 
   "It was you, " Jessica shouted. "You set the fire. You tried to kill
 
   my son. You hurt Grace. You shot Marshal Cooper. Surprise,
 
   RebeccaţCooper didn't die. Oh, yes, he's alive and well, " she
 
   taunted. "And quite able to recall who he saw and what happened. The
 
   judge is reading all about it right now. Cooper wrote a nice long
 
   letter." The news staggered Rebecca. She collapsed against the back
 
   of her chair and stared at Donald, imploring him with her eyes to help
 
   her.
 
 
 
   Donald was thoroughly enjoying himself. There was a hint of a smile on
 
   his face as he sat there with his head tilted ever so slightly to the
 
   wall while he watched and listened. How thoughtful of the marshal to
 
   insist that the only living person who could possibly identify him stay
 
   on the opposite side of the courtroom. She couldn't see him in the
 
   crowd, not with the sea of faces gawking at her and Rebecca. Thanks to
 
   the overly cautious marshal, Donald didn't have to worry.
 
 
 
   He would continue to sit back and patiently bide his time. He knew
 
   Rebecca expected him to help her escape, but he had no such intention,
 
   of course. He would wait it out and then sneak away. The poor dear
 
   was looking quite desperate now. Donald knew exactly what would happen
 
   as soon as he gave her asignal. She would jump to her feet and attempt
 
   to use that pathetic little gun she had hidden in her pocket. One of
 
   the lawmen would shoot her, of course.
 
 
 
   Donald also knew what Bell would do. He wouldn't continue to stand
 
   there with his head hanging down, his shoulders stooped, and his hands
 
   limp at his sides, looking like the sheriff's whipping boy. Why, he
 
   hadn't moved a muscle since he'd shuffled across the room to the
 
   railing in front of the star witness.
 
 
 
   The cold-blooded murderer was as cunning as a fox. He was waiting for
 
   his opportunity to spring into action. The sheriff had already relaxed
 
   his guardţthe old fool was still looking around for his handcuffsţand
 
   barely paying his prisoner any notice at all, which Donald knew was
 
   just fine with Bell. The sheriff was going to have to get close to
 
   Bell in order to shackle him, and when he did, Bell would attack.
 
 
 
   Donald expected him to go down in a blaze of bullets, and while the
 
   deputies and the marshals were firing, Donald would fold into the
 
   inevitable stampede as the crowd swarmed out the doors to escape.
 
 
 
   A man in the back row jumped to his feet and reached into kis hip
 
   pocket, drawing botk Cole's and Daniel's attention.
 
 
 
   "Hands up, " Cole shouted as he strode up the center aisle amid the
 
   spectators, his gun trained on the stranger.
 
 
 
   "I'm unarmed, I'm unarmed, " the man stammered. "I just needed my
 
   handkerchief." He then sneezed, drawing smiles from those around
 
   him.
 
 
 
   Jessica was trying to figure out who Rebecca was looking at in the
 
   crowd. Who would she know in Blackwater . . .
 
 
 
   "Cole, " Jessie screamed as she rushed across the room, "he's here.
 
 
 
   The leader . . . he's here." Daniel raced toward her and jerked her
 
   back just as Donald gave the signal to Rebecca.
 
 
 
   Rebecca leapt to her feet and fired one shot through the sheriff's
 
   temple, but before his legs could begin to fold, Bell was behind him
 
   and had his gun. He fired at the deputy guarding the side door,
 
   hitting him in the center of the chest, then whirled and fired at
 
   Jessica. Daniel shoved her to the floor in the nick of time, but the
 
   bullet caught him in the left shoulder.
 
 
 
   Pandemonium broke loose as the crowd jumped to its feet, obstructing
 
   Cole's view.
 
 
 
   Bell, diving for cover at the side of the witness-box, fired at Daniel,
 
   but the shot went wild, for Daniel was already in motion. He shot the
 
   gun out of Rebecca's hand. She screamed and fell backward. Daniel hit
 
   the table, slid across on his side, his gun blazing. Bell lunged back
 
   and froze. Daniel fired again as he dropped to the floor, rolled, and
 
   fired again, this time at point-blank range.
 
 
 
   Indifferent to the ear-shattering screams surrounding him as people
 
   tried to escape, Daniel dropped his empty gun, grabbed the other one
 
   out of his left holster, and slowly got to his feet.
 
 
 
   It wasn't over yet. Daniel slowly extended his arm, cocked his gun,
 
   and waited. His eyes bored into those of his enemy. Golden brown eyes
 
   stared back.
 
 
 
   Cole was desperate to get to Jessica. He fought like an animal to get
 
   through the crazed people clawing their way to the doors. He hadn't
 
   been able to get a clear shot since the first gunshots were fired, for
 
   the crowd had swelled to its feet and surged in on him, screaming and
 
   shoving and pushing to get away.
 
 
 
   Cole was finally able to shove his way through the crowd. His gun was
 
   out, but when the last men were shoved aside and he finally had a clear
 
   view, his heart dropped.
 
 
 
   Donald had Jessica in front of him and was backing toward the side
 
   door. One arm held her tightly around the waist. The other held a gun
 
   under her chin, the barrel pressed against her throat.
 
 
 
   Jessica was fighting like a wildcat, scraping his arm with her nails
 
   and kicking his legs with her heels.
 
 
 
   He seemed impervious to her struggles. "What we have here, gentlemen,
 
   is called a standoff. I'll blow her head off, and I'm sure that by
 
   now, with my rather colorful history, you know I'd get a kick out of
 
   watching your expressions after I kill her. Oh, I know you'll get me,
 
   but not before I see how you react when her head explodes." His voice
 
   hardened into concrete. "It'll be messy.
 
 
 
   I've done it before." Jessica dug her nails into his skin, drawing
 
   blood. "Stop it, " he ordered. "What's it going to be, Marshals? "
 
   he demanded as he edged back.
 
 
 
   Cole was slowly advancing down the center aisle. He was about five
 
   feet away from Daniel, coming toward him at an angle now, when Donald
 
   shouted to him. "Stop right there. I don't mind dying, " he
 
   boasted.
 
 
 
   "I've seen so much of it lately. If you want her to keep on breathing,
 
   you'll stop right there and drop your guns." Neither marshal
 
   reacted.
 
 
 
   Cole's arm was rigid. Daniel shook his head.
 
 
 
   "You aren't getting out of here. Let her go."
 
 
 
   "I can't do that, " he said. "She's going with me. Look there.
 
 
 
   Rebecca's crawling toward the judge's chambers. That's my girl."
 
 
 
   Jessica kicked hard and struck bone. She felt as if she were being cut
 
   in half, so forcefully did he squeeze her.
 
 
 
   "I told you to stop, " he shouted in her ear.
 
 
 
   "I won't stop until you let me tell Cole I love him. I have to tell
 
   him, " she whispered. "I'll help you escape, I'll do anything you say
 
   .
 
 
 
   . . " Donald laughed. "Isn't that sweet, " he called out to the
 
   marshals. "The little lady wants to say something to you."
 
 
 
   "You got a clear shot? " Daniel asked Cole.
 
 
 
   "No, " Cole answered, his voice harsh.
 
 
 
   "Go ahead, angel, " Donald urged. "You can tell him."
 
 
 
   "Cole, " she cried out.
 
 
 
   He was dying inside. Dear God, please don't let him hurt her . . .
 
 
 
   don't let him . . .
 
 
 
   "Abilene." He knew what she was asking him to do. He had her
 
   permission, he had his target, his gun was cocked, but God help him, he
 
   couldn't do it.
 
 
 
   Daniel took the shot for him.
 
 
 
   "No." Cole roared the denial. In his mind's eye, everything happened
 
   in slow motion. He saw Jessica's eyes flutter closed, saw her body
 
   drift downward to the floor. His mind wouldn't accept any more. He
 
   emptied his gun into the bastard, spraying him up against the wall.
 
 
 
   Cole didn't stop. He kept pulling the trigger again and again and
 
   again, the only sound now the clicking as the empty chambers rotated,
 
   until Daniel grabbed the gun out of his hand.
 
 
 
   "I didn't shoot her, " Daniel shouted in hopes that his words would cut
 
   through Cole's stupor. "She's all right. She just fainted. Get her
 
   off the floor." Cole rushed to her side and fell to his knees. His
 
   hand shook as he pressed his finger against the pulse point at the base
 
   of her throat. He felt the heartbeat, strong and rapid, and felt the
 
   tears sting his eyes.
 
 
 
   He gently lifted her into his arms and stood, cradling her against his
 
   chest.
 
 
 
   Jessica heard someone sobbing. She opened her eyes and saw Grace
 
   running toward Daniel.
 
 
 
   There was a deputy standing in the doorway of the judge's chambers,
 
   watching Rebecca. The woman had her bloody hand pressed against her
 
   bosom. Her other hand was braced against the wall and she was slowly
 
   struggling to her feet when Grace ran past her.
 
 
 
   "I'm all right, Grace, " Daniel called out as soon as he saw her
 
   tears.
 
 
 
   He fully expected her to throw herself into his arms, but Grace
 
   suddenly stopped. A funny look crossed her face before she turned
 
   around and ran back to Rebecca.
 
 
 
   Daniel didn't have time to stop her. Grace made a fist, swung, and
 
   coldcocked her. Rebecca crumpled to the floor.
 
 
 
   Grace stepped back and looked at her. "It hurts, doesn't it? " Daniel
 
   was so shocked he laughed. He stopped when Grace was in his arms,
 
   kissing him.
 
 
 
   "I love you, Daniel. I love you, " she fervently whispered as she
 
   kissed his brow, his nose, his chin.
 
 
 
   He tilted her head up so he could look into her eyes, and then he
 
   whispered his declaration of love. "Don't marry Nigel."
 
 
 
   "Because you love me, Daniel? " "I was getting to that, Grace . . .
 
 
 
   because I love you." gvery one had gathered in the judge's chambers to
 
   watch the doctor work on Daniel's shoulder. He was sprawled out on the
 
   leather settee. Grace leaned against his side, holding his hand.
 
 
 
   Cole sat nearby in an overstuffed wing chair with Jessica on his lap.
 
 
 
   She had tried to sit next to him, but Cole wouldn't let her move.
 
 
 
   The judge was still in the courtroom giving orders to two deputies
 
   before they dragged Rebecca to jail.
 
 
 
   Cole was deliberately taunting Daniel as the physician prodded the
 
   injury with his instruments in search of the bullet.
 
 
 
   "You're being awful brave, Daniel."
 
 
 
   "Don't push me, Cole."
 
 
 
   "It hurts, doesn't it, Daniel? " Grace asked.
 
 
 
   "If I answer yes, are you going to coldcock me? " Daniel asked
 
   dryly.
 
 
 
   Every one laughed but Grace, who was clearly mortified. "You're never
 
   going to let me live that one down, are you? " "No, " Daniel assured
 
   her.
 
 
 
   "I'm having the last laugh, " Grace boasted.
 
 
 
   "How's that? " Daniel asked. His voice sounded calm, but his brow was
 
   covered with beads of perspiration. He wanted to yell at the doctor to
 
   hurry up and find the damned bullet, but he didn't say a word because
 
   Grace was already anxious and upset.
 
 
 
   "I never was going to marry Nigel."
 
 
 
   "I know. I wouldn't have let you." Cole tugged on Jessica's blouse to
 
   get her to look at him.
 
 
 
   "I want to hear you tell me you love me. No more messing around,
 
   Jessie. I mean it. This is your last chance or . . . " "Or what? "
 
   He leaned down and whispered into her ear. She immediately turned
 
   scarlet. "You wouldn't. . . not here in front of Grace and Daniel .
 
 
 
   . . " "I'm a desperate man. If taking your clothes off is the only way
 
   I can get you to cooperate, I'll do it."
 
 
 
   "It sure would take my mind off this torture, " Daniel drawled out.
 
 
 
   Grace covered her face and laughed. Jessica put her arms around Cole's
 
   neck.
 
 
 
   "I'm waiting, " Cole reminded her.
 
 
 
   "I love you, Cole Clayborne. I love you." His expression turned
 
   somber. "Forever, Jessica? " "Forever." The judge came striding into
 
   his chambers with a full bottle of good whiskey. He poured drinks for
 
   everyone and then sat down behind his desk.
 
 
 
   "I'm still in shock, " Rafferty announced. "I can't believe that
 
   Donald Curtis, a respected businessman in this town, a pillar of our
 
   community, was the leader of the Blackwater gang. Whatever possessed
 
   him to turn like that? " "Greed, " Daniel speculated.
 
 
 
   "The thrill, " Cole suggested.
 
 
 
   "Maybe Rebecca will be able to answer your questions about Donald. She
 
   knew him well, " Jessica said.
 
 
 
   "I know I shouldn't feel sorry for her, but I do, " Grace said.
 
 
 
   "She loved him, and some women will do anything for the men they love,
 
   even kill." The judge raised his glass and said, "Why don't one of you
 
   marshals make the toast? " Daniel looked at Cole. "Are you keeping
 
   your badge? " "Maybe. What about you? " "Maybe." Cole raised his
 
   glass to Daniel. "To justice." Rosehill Ranch, Montana Territory Xma
 
   Rose was sitting on the front porch enjoying the sunset.
 
 
 
   It was her daily ritual and one she tried never to miss, for, in her
 
   opinion, sunsets were one of God's special gifts to the world, and it
 
   was her duty to take a moment to appreciate His wonders.
 
 
 
   She wasn't alone, for squeezed up next to her was the newest addition
 
   to the family, Caleb. The two of them had taken to one another
 
   immediately, and he was happily chattering away now in a language only
 
   he understood.
 
 
 
   He was the most adorable child, and every now and then, she couldn't
 
   resist brushing her hand across his dark, silky curls.
 
 
 
   The family had all returned home to celebrate the wedding of Jessica
 
   and Cole and to welcome Jessica and her son into the fold. The house
 
   was bursting at the seams, and Mama Rose couldn't have been happier.
 
 
 
   She glanced up and saw Cole standing in the doorway, watching her.
 
 
 
   "I knew I'd find you out here, " he said. He came out and pulled up a
 
   chair next to her. With a nod toward Caleb, he said, "He's a piece of
 
   work, isn't he, Mama? " "My, yes, " she answered. "He's busy every
 
   minute. He was just telling me a remarkable story." Cole laughed.
 
 
 
   "He keeps Jessie on her toes, " he remarked. "By the end of the day,
 
   we're both worn out from chasing after him."
 
 
 
   "That's the way it's supposed to be, " she replied. She grew serious
 
   then and said, "You do know how blessed you've been, don't you?
 
 
 
   Jessica is a treasure and so is this little boy."
 
 
 
   "I know, " he agreed. "Sometimes . . . at night . . . I watch her
 
   sleep and I get this choked-up feeling. . . .
 
 
 
   I'm a man in love, " he ended. "No doubt about it."
 
 
 
   "I expect you at services Sunday, " she said. "You'll want to thank
 
   God."
 
 
 
   "We'll be there, " he promised. "Are you going to wear your new hat
 
   Grace sent you? " "Oh my, yes, " she replied. "It's almost too grand
 
   for me."
 
 
 
   "Nothing's too grand for you, Mama Rose." Praise flustered her, and
 
   she quickly changed the subject. "Jessica told me that Grace has
 
   decided to open a hat shop in Dillon." Cole nodded. "Her parents are
 
   coming over from London'to help her get started. Daniel hopes they'll
 
   stay."
 
 
 
   "When is Daniel going to marry her? " "The date hasn't been set yet.
 
 
 
   He has to wait and ask Grace's father for permission first, but he's
 
   hoping to tie the knot next year, come the spring. He expects you to
 
   be there."
 
 
 
   "Oh, I'll be there, and I'll wear my new hat.
 
 
 
   Daniel's at peace now, isn't he? " Cole smiled. "He's getting there,
 
   Mama." The screen door opened, and her other sons, Adam and Douglas
 
   and Travis, came outside. A moment later, her daughter, Mary Rose,
 
   joined them. Mama Rose's heart swelled with love and pride, and she
 
   suddenly became quite teary-eyed.
 
 
 
   "I was about to tell this baby a story."
 
 
 
   "We'll listen too, " Adam said.
 
 
 
   "What's it about? " Douglas wanted to know.
 
 
 
   "A circle, " she answered, "that began in New York City when four young
 
   boys and an infant became a family." Caleb climbed up on her lap and
 
   cuddled against her chest. She put her arms around him and began to
 
   rock.
 
 
 
   "Once upon a time . . , " the end.