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  “Let’s not talk about it.” She turned her face away. “You’ve made choices, Ben, and I have to accept things, even if I don’t understand them.”

  “When you come back at Christmas…” he began, then left the sentence unfinished. He couldn’t make any promises yet. Although he hoped that he and Tom would surely have put an end to the troubles long before then, there were no guarantees.

  “I don’t know if I will come back.” Emily lifted her chin. “Why should I? I’m not sure there’s any reason for me to come back to Sunset now.”

  “You’re talking crazy again. Your home is here. Your family is here.”

  He gave her hand a squeeze, fighting with all his might to keep from pulling her into his embrace. Of course, they were in public, and such a foolish act could seriously harm Emily’s reputation. All the more reason for him to resist.

  She gazed up at him with those luminous blue eyes. More than anything, he wanted to kiss away her tears, whisper words of love, and promise her forever. He couldn’t do it yet.

  Emily’s sigh lingered in the air. “It’s time to say good-bye, Ben.” She placed a finger at his lips. “You say there are things I don’t understand, and you’re right. I don’t understand any of this, why you’re acting so odd, why you’re…” She finished the sentence with a vague gesture.

  “Maybe things will be different the next time you come home. That’s all I can say for now.”

  She nodded, her gaze unwavering. “Good-bye, Ben.”

  “Good-bye.”

  She turned and boarded the stage. He stood shuffling back and forth on his feet, staring at the vehicle, watching, waiting, and not knowing where to go or what to do. When the driver climbed up and reached for the reins, Ben waved.

  The stage would travel first to nearby Denver, then head eastward.

  Must be nice, he mused, wishing he were somewhere far away. Surprised by his thoughts, he shook them off. Running away never really solved problems. At fourteen, he’d run away from his abusive father, only to have the man come after him. If it hadn’t been for the intervention of Joshua Barron and his cousin, Cody Bradford, his story might not have had a happy ending.

  “Say, there, young Brooks. Just the fellow I was hoping to run into.”

  Pulled from his memories, Ben spun around. The short, squat minister, Reverend James Gilman, stood a few inches away, peering up at him.

  “Yes, sir? Was there something you needed?” Ben knew he looked as confused as he sounded.

  “As a matter of fact, yes, there is something I need.” Gilman rubbed his hands together and stamped his feet on the frozen ground. “Don’t know that I’ll ever get used to this Colorado weather. But, anyway,” he went on, “Christmas is coming, you know, and there are a few folks in town who might not have much this year.”

  Ben nodded. Times had been hard, indeed, for a good many folks, not only in Colorado, but throughout the great union of states. When the panic had struck in 1873, Ben had been too young to understand all the fancy words thrown around about it. All he really knew was that the country was having a tough time righting itself financially after all the devastation of the war. Although some reports were optimistic for the future, the last few years had seen a rash of bankruptcies, and losses. Most folks were doing good to hang on; some were losing ground.

  “Yes, sir, I know.”

  “The church is doing all we can to help the poor, especially the children.”

  “Mrs. Henderson plans to donate a few items to charity,” Ben said. Lucille had already set aside a few toys, explaining to her little girls the virtues of helping others. Ben doubted that any of the toddlers grasped the meaning of those noble words. “I told her I’ll bring them into town once she has them boxed up.”

  “All donations are appreciated. Several other families have donated items, too. What I’m wanting from you, Brooks, is some help handing gifts out. Would you be available?”

  Ben frowned. “When?” He already knew the answer. The Ladies Charitable Society had been passing out leaflets for weeks. The presents would be delivered on the same night as the Christmas dance at the social hall. Of course, he had no plans to attend the dance.

  Certainly, he could do a good deed for Reverend Gilman and for the less fortunate families in Sunset. He owed a great deal to those who had shown him kindness and charity over the years. It pleased him that he could help in return.

  “Yes, sir. You can count on me.”

  When he turned away from Gilman, the stage had disappeared from view. Emily was gone again. He breathed out a sigh. She was away, and she was safe.

  * * * *

  As soon as Ben rode into the yard at the Henderson place, he knew trouble had come calling again. The back door opened, slammed shut, and Tom came walking out to greet him before he even got down from his horse.

  “Something happen?”

  “Sure did.” Tom’s mouth remained set in a hard line.

  Ben glanced toward the house, then looked toward his right and to his left. So far as he knew, the Hendersons had been home all day. Nothing looked out of place. He blinked, then turned back to his boss.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Get down, Ben. Come on into the house. We’ll have a talk.”

  “All right.” He’d never heard that tone of voice from Tom before. Not exactly unfriendly, but definitely serious. “Give me a minute to tend to my horse.”

  “Take your time. I won’t be going anywhere.”

  When he was ushered into the Henderson’s parlor a short time later, Ben nodded toward Lucille. “Afternoon, ma’am.” He removed his hat.

  “Sit down, Ben.” Lucille gestured toward a worn settee. Before she could speak another word, she burst into sobs. A hand went to her throat.

  Her husband stood at her side. He touched her shoulder. “Calm down, honey. Let’s talk to Ben and see if he knows anything. We’ll do all we can to fix this.” He looked toward the settee. “Lucille is upset, as you can see. Earlier this morning, she discovered that her pearls are missing.”

  “Her necklace?” Ben’s gaze went at once to Lucille’s bare throat. Although he wasn’t ordinarily too keen on fashion and barely paid any attention to how women dressed, he knew Lucille Henderson always wore a strand of pearls. They weren’t real pearls, she’d told him one day, but they meant the world to her because they’d been a gift from her father. Since his death, the pearls had become even more precious to her.

  “We thought maybe the clasp broke,” Tom went on. “They could have slipped right off, or maybe one of the babies grabbed and pulled them.”

  “Have you looked everywhere?”

  “Yes,” Lucille said, dabbing at her eyes. “We’ve searched all morning. I even made Tom go outside and look through the yard.”

  Ben frowned. “Tom, you and your family haven’t left the ranch in days. It’s not likely anyone could slip in here unnoticed.” His gaze swept over the room. “Nothing else is missing, is there? Have you noticed anything out of place? Has anything been disturbed?”

  “Not a thing. Only the pearls are gone.” Lucille rose from her chair. Her long skirts swept over the colorful rag rugs on the parlor floor. “I don’t know what happened to my pearls. Maybe the necklace fell off, and I didn’t notice. Or maybe I’ve simply been careless and have somehow misplaced it.” Her voice rose with each word. Clearly, she was on the verge of hysteria. “Or more likely, my pearls were stolen, and frankly, I don’t know why I’m surprised. I worry about what may happen next.” She whirled around, staring down at Ben. “Let’s not mince words, Ben. I wasn’t happy when Tom hired your father. Do you think I want a killer around my home? Around my precious little girls? We all know I didn’t lose my pearls. They were taken, and I have no doubt whatsoever that your father is responsible.” She folded her arms over her generous breasts. “You need to talk to him. Tell him I want my pearls. If he doesn’t return them, I’m going to Sheriff Bryant.”

  Ben didn’t know what to say.
“Other than the fact that my father’s been in prison, do you have any reason to suspect him?” His father had been on the Henderson farm for less than forty-eight hours, and already he’d been accused of committing a crime. Maybe Lucille was right.

  “He’s been skulking around. I caught him coming out of the spring house earlier,” Lucille said. “And last night, I saw him prowling around the property.”

  “He was a bit restless.”

  “He stole my pearls,” Lucille insisted. “And I’m terrified to think of what else he might be capable of doing. I have three innocent little children in my home. I worry for my own safety as well, Ben.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on Pa. There won’t be any more trouble from him.”

  Tom shook his head. “That’s not good enough. I won’t have my wife in a state over this, and the more I think on it, the more I agree with her. Your father’s a dangerous man. I’m all for giving people second chances, and I know that people can change. Hell, I’ve made some tremendous changes in my own life, thanks to Lucille and her love.” He smiled toward his wife. “But helping others can only go so far. I made a mistake when I hired him. I can’t have him here on the property, Ben. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I understand exactly how you feel. Frankly, I thought you were out of your head to hire him on in the first place. Just wish I’d have known his time on the farm would be so short-lived. I wouldn’t have wasted half the day yesterday showing him around the place.” He shrugged and got to his feet. “Anything else we need to discuss?”

  “I think that covers it.” Tom got to his feet, too.

  “Do you want me to tell him?”

  “Reckon not, Ben. I’m the one who hired him on, and by rights I’m the one who needs to let him go.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Ben insisted.

  Side by side, the two men walked the short distance to the bunkhouse. Although both kept silent, noisy thoughts clamored inside Ben’s head. Angry words shot out of his mouth as soon as he opened the door.

  “Damn it to hell, Pa. What was all that talk about going straight? About making changes?”

  His father stood in the corner. He spun around, his features contorted with confusion.

  Ben crossed the room in swift strides and pushed at his father’s chest, nearly toppling him. “Can’t you keep your thieving hands off of other people’s property?”

  Tom rushed in, grabbed Ben and pulled him back. “Calm down,” he ordered. “I told you, I’d handle this.”

  “Yeah, I know, but—”

  “But your damned temper’s got the best of you.” Tom stood blocking the door. Nobody was going to get past him. He pointed toward John Brooks. “I’ll have a word or two with you in a minute. First, I need to deal with your hot-headed son.”

  “I’m all right.” Ben slowly unclenched his fists and fought to steady his breathing. More than once, he’d been told to watch his temper. Anger served a purpose only when kept under control. Letting his emotions get the best of him was a sure sign of weakness in a man.

  His father scowled at both of them. “What’s this all about? Somebody accusing me of something?” Brooks sauntered toward the men. “I’ve done nothing wrong. Benny, my boy there, will vouch for me.” He shot a threatening look in his son’s direction.

  “Pa, I can’t…” Ben rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead and wished he knew the right words to say. “I’m sorry.” Withered by the stunned look of betrayal on his father’s face, he turned away.

  Tom cleared his throat. “My wife’s pearl necklace has disappeared, and if by chance you’ve taken it, I’d appreciate it greatly if you’d give it back. Not that I expect that to happen.” He paused, keeping a close eye on the man to whom he spoke. “When all’s said and done, I don’t know what happened to the necklace, and I’m not going to stand here and make accusations. Truth of the matter, Mr. Brooks, I’d say those pearls are a bit irrelevant. The real problem is my wife can’t rest knowing you’re here. I should have taken that into consideration before I hired you.”

  Ben watched his father open his mouth as if to protest then clamp it shut again, a look of defeat crossing his face as if he knew there was no point in arguing.

  “Pack up whatever you brought with you. Be off the property within the hour.” Tom turned toward the door. “That’s all I’ve got to say.”

  Throughout the exchange, Ben had remained quiet, had kept his eyes averted. He glanced up now, caught the fury seething behind his father’s sullen expression, and turned away once more. He’d seen that look too many times before, and remembered too well the fierce whippings and beatings that followed it.

  “I’ll see you around, Pa,” he said, grateful that, for once, he could safely escape his father’s fury. He quickly followed Tom from the bunkhouse.

  Might be a good time to ride into town, Ben figured. Come to think of it, he could use a little time alone.

  * * * *

  Emily opened the door and, with a weary heart, stepped into the little room she’d called home for the last few months. Only a few days earlier, she’d left the academy with high hopes, certain of Ben’s love, and dreaming of their future together. She’d truly believed that once he learned of her unhappiness at school and her dismay over Nathan Meeker’s death, the young man she cherished would declare his love. She’d imagined herself returning to Denver only long enough to pack her belongings and announce her upcoming nuptials.

  Oh, how far astray her dreams had carried her.

  Hattie Mae sat at the corner desk. When the door opened, she looked up from her writing and smiled. “Welcome back. Do you need any help?”

  “I’ve only got one valise. I can manage.” With a toss of her head, Emily flounced into the room, grimaced, then threw the old leather case onto her bed. “I hate this room. I swear, I don’t know how you stand it here.”

  The girl at the desk shrugged. “I came here to study, not to live in style. It’s practical, and we have everything we need.” She put her writing implement aside, turned, and folded her hands in her lap. “As teachers, we won’t be earning much, and we’ll most likely be living in guest rooms. It’s good for us to become accustomed to simple surroundings.” Her expression grew serious. “It’s never wise to want what one can’t have, Emily. One of the most important lessons in life is learning to be content with what we’ve been given.” She returned to her writing.

  The room fell silent except for the scratching sounds as Hattie Mae worked.

  Her words brought painful thoughts of Benjamin—and Della. She still wanted Benjamin, and somehow she’d find a way to win back the affections Della had stolen away.

  But how? Especially with her in Denver, shut away in this dull, white-washed room that lacked even the slightest touch of beauty, joy, or hope. So different from her bedroom at her parents’ home with its cheerful yellow walls, the wide windows that invited the morning sunlight to come inside, the soft pillows, ruffled bedcovers, and neatly-stitched samplers proclaiming the virtues of love, perseverance, and, above all, patience.

  In her room in Sunset, she could sit among her trinkets and treasures and feel at peace. A genuine sense of satisfaction always enfolded her there. But here, surrounded by four stark walls with smudges of ink and dirt, a threadbare carpet of indistinguishable colors, and tiny beds with horsehair mattresses and ugly gray blankets, Emily felt only an overwhelming emptiness.

  Even the air had a dullness about it, smelling faintly of dust and must, sweat and tears.

  “I don’t want to be a teacher now.” Emily plopped down into a second straight-backed chair, one designed to be dreadfully uncomfortable unless the occupant maintained proper posture. Too tired from travel and too weary from heartbreak, Emily slumped down, no longer caring about the discomfort. “All I want is to go home. I want to get married, Hattie. I want to have a husband, children of my own.”

  Hattie pushed aside her work and turned once more to face her distraught roommate. “What happened
, Emily?”

  “It was awful, so awful,” she wailed. “My future is ruined. My whole life has been turned topsy-turvy.” Emily burst into sobs. “He doesn’t love me anymore. Ben’s found someone else. Oh, Hattie! What am I going to do?”

  Hattie Mae sighed. “I don’t know. I’m probably not a very good one to ask. Truthfully, I’m having a difficult time, too.” She folded her hands and stared down at her lap. “All my life, I’ve thought about teaching. You know, I’ve never had a beau, have never really given much thought to love or marriage. Teaching was always the most important thing in my life, the only thing that really mattered.”

  “You can still be a teacher,” Emily pointed out. Hattie’s change of subject annoyed her, but of course, the girl couldn’t possibly understand the depth of emotion heartbreak brought. As she’d said, she’d never even had a beau, had surely never been kissed. “You don’t have to teach children from Indian tribes.” She offered the same logic Ben had given her.

  “I’m thinking of pursuing a different field of study.” Hattie still kept her gaze cast down. “I’m considering nursing as a profession,” she said in her gentle voice. “I think perhaps I’m more suited for that sort of work.”

  Perhaps so, Emily quickly agreed. She couldn’t imagine the quiet young woman ever raising her voice to discipline a child—or to even make herself heard in a classroom of noisy students.

  “I’m sure things will work out for you.” Emily offered a smile. All the while, a black cloud of despair hovered over her. She truly did believe things would turn out well for Hattie Mae, and the unfairness of life rankled her. “You’ll have a meaningful career, you’ll meet a man who adores you, you’ll fall in love, have babies…” Sobs shook her again. “You’ll have everything I’ve ever wanted, Hattie.”

  And without Ben, she would have nothing at all.

  * * * *

  On Monday morning, Ben and Tom rode the range together. Lucille and Della had taken the girls with them and gone into town. They probably wouldn’t return until late in the afternoon. The two men worked in a companionable silence, checking the fencing along the western property line, then riding out to the creek that marked the south boundary of the Henderson land. An old wooden bridge crossed the icy water there, and though the structure didn’t belong to Tom, he kept it in good repair. It would need a bit of work to withstand the coming winter. The unseasonably pleasant weather that day made it a perfect opportunity to cross that chore off Tom’s list.