Alternate Universe. Written in 20ih minutes (give or take a bit considering I got a tornado warning about 4 minutes in and had to pause, LOL.) No time for editing!

California, mid-1870s

Elizabeth Lewis smiled tightly as she gripped the hand of her four-year-old son and tried to move around the obstacle standing between her and the general store.

“I wish you’d reconsider, Bethie—”

That wasn’t her name, and it was incredibly rude to address her so informally, but Elizabeth had learned long ago that if you just let Richard Lansing talk, he’d eventually run out of things to say.

Trouble was that the relentless banker not only didn’t know when he wasn’t welcome, he couldn’t take no for an answer. This was the fifth time she had rejected his proposal of marriage since the death of her husband the previous winter.

“There is nothing to consider, Mr. Lansing. If you will just allow me to pass—”

“Now, Bethie—” Richard smiled at her, his brown eyes oozing warmth with that charming smile a woman who didn’t know better might melt beneath. “Just hear me out—”

“I have heard you out. On multiple occasions—”

“Mama?”

“A moment, Cameron,” she murmured to her son, glancing down at his beloved face. Elizabeth turned her attention back to the smarmy banker. “I said no when I was seventeen, Mr. Lansing, and I have continued to say no for the last eight years.”

“I won’t be asking forever—” Richard threatened as she finally managed to push past him and move towards Jones’ Emporium. “You aren’t the only woman out there.”

Elizabeth ignored them as they ducked inside the store. The fact of the matter was that women were still not thick on the ground in this part of California. They were a lifetime away from the glitz and glitter of San Francisco and Sacrementa, located near the Sierra Nevada. The only fancy thing about Diamond Springs was its name.

“Good afternoon, Elizabeth,” Barbara Jones said with a cheerful smile. “And young Master Cameron! How would you like a peppermint stick?”

“Oh—” Elizabeth pursed her lips as the redheaded prioprieter lifted the lid of a glass jar. “Just this once, Cameron. Tell Mrs. Jones thank you.”

“Thank you,” Cameron managed even as he licked the candy.

“I have your order ready. Just give me a moment.” Barbara turned to one of the shop assistants. “Kyle, go and get Mrs. Lewis’s packages.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He’ll be out in just a jiffy.” Barbara’s smile faltered slightly. “We haven’t seen you in town for a few weeks. Everything all right out on the ranch?”

Ranch. What silly name for the patch of land Elizabeth struggled to maintain three miles outside city limits. She had a small herd of cattle, three horses, and a cottage whose roof might last another winter if they were lucky.

It was all she had left of her father and the only inheritance she had for Cameron, so Elizabeth was determined to hold on to it long enough for him to make something out of it. “We’re managing. Have I missed anything interesting? Anything new in town?” She knew priming Barbara to share gossip would deflect attention from her.

“Oh…” Barbara’s smile turned sly. “We have an new sheriff arriving on the train from Sacremento at the end of the week.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Elizabeth murmured. “Cameron, don’t eat all of that right now—”

“He’s a hometown boy coming home to do good by his grandmother. You should stop by before you leave town. I’m sure Lila will tell you all about it.”

Lila.

Elizabeth exhaled slowly before turning back to Barbara, forcing a smile on her face. “Lila? Lila Quartermaine? It’s her grandson? I—” She cleared her throat. “I thought that he was working on the trains.”

Or that had been the reason he’d told her before leaving Diamond Springs eight years earlier. She could still see his easy, shy smile and friendly blue eyes as he promised to write her.

As he promised to come back for her.

“We all did, but I guess he took up with the Marshalls at some point.” Barbara shrugged. “Whatever the case, it looks like Jason Morgan is coming home.”

Elizabeth managed a smile even as her stomach rolled.

She doubted he was coming back for her after all this time, and after eight years of no word—

Would he even remember?

+2

Written in   25  minutes.. No time for edits.

Written in   25  minutes.. No time for edits.

Jason Morgan had been sworn in as sheriff of Diamond Springs, California, for all of ten minutes before he regretted the decision to come home.

He had no sooner hung up his hat in the local jail and taken a seat before one of his least favorite people sauntered through the door.

“Jason Morgan,” Richard Lansing said with a smug grin. For as long as Jason had known him, the man had tried to pretend like he wasn’t living in a frontier town that had been settled the year Ric was born. He wore slick suits and a hat that was more suited to San Francisco than Diamond Springs.

“Lansing.” Jason didn’t get to his feet to greet him. Instead, he leaned back and put his boots on the desk. He said nothing else because men like Ric Lansing always made themselves understood.

“I was surprised when the council said you’d offered to take the job,” Ric continued. He rocked back on his heels, tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his fancy vest. “I thought you’d left this town behind a long time ago. And everyone in it.”

The way he’d said everyone tugged at Jason, and he frowned slightly, tipping his head. “My grandmother still lives here.”

“Of course, of course. We’re all mighty fond of Miss Lila.” Ric’s smirk deepend. “I guess I had the wrong idea when you let Bethie just…wither away, waiting for you.”

Jason’s cheek twitched, and he fought the urge to swing his boots to the ground and get to his feet. “I don’t recall much of a wait,” he said dryly. “She’s married, isn’t she?”

“Well, not at the moment. But soon.” Ric nodded. “I had to wait until Dr. Lewis was a bit colder in his grave before offering for Bethie—”

“Dr. Lewis—” Jason did get to his feet now. “She married Dr. Lewis?” He’d never—he’d never asked his grandmother the identity of the man Elizabeth had wed. Hadn’t it been enough to know that she’d married someone else after ignoring all his letters for more than a year?

But—Cameron Lewis had been old enough to be Elizabeth’s father. Why—Why had she done it?

“Out of the blue,” Ric said, and his eyes darkened with slight irritation. It vanished quickly, but Jason saw it—recognized it. Ric had tried to court Elizabeth soon after she’d turned sixteen, but she’d never been interested.

And part of Jason had always wondered if his absence had made her change her mind—if she’d been Elizabeth Lansing all these years. But—Cameron Lewis—why?

Jason exhaled slowly. It didn’t matter. She’d married someone else and had never bothered to answer any of his letters. She’d made her choice.

“I’m sorry to hear she’s been widowed.”

“Well, a woman as fine as she is won’t be alone for long. Not when she owns that pretty piece of land.” Ric pressed his lips together. “You didn’t know Lewis had died? That’s not why you’re back?”

It made sense now — Ric’s strange visit and interest in Jason’s return. He thought there was a competitor for Elizabeth’s affections.

If it had been anyone else asking, Jason might have set the man’s mind at ease. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about Elizabeth since the day his grandmother’s letter had reached him.

But seeing as how it was Ric Lansing, the most irritating jackass known to man, Jason wasn’t about to give him the satisfication. “No,” Jason said finally. “But thanks for the news. I should go renew my acquaintance with the widow.”

“Now—”

Jason saunted over to the hat rack and plucked his off the peg. “If you’ll excuse me, Ric.”

“See here—”

Jason ignored the sputtering banker and went outside where his horse was still tethered to the hitching post. He swung up on its back and started out of town.

He hadn’t had any intention on seeing Elizabeth today—or seeking her out at all—but now that Ric had forced him to do so—

He found that he wanted to know what the hell had made a girl of nineteen marry a man twice her age when Jason had been off trying to make a life for them.

___________________

Elizabeth laughed as her favorite mare pressed herself over the edge of the stall, reaching for the treat in Elizabeth’s hand. “Now, now, Penny—don’t be greedy—”

She saw a movement out of the corner of her eye, and swung to find a figure in the doorway of the barn. The sunlight at his back set his face in shadows—

Then he stepped forward and Elizabeth swallowed hard as Jason Morgan’s face came into focus. He’d grown in the last eight years, of course. He’d been twenty when he left, and was closer to thirty. His features had hardned somehow—

And his eyes seemed colder than they’d been once upon a time.

“Jason—” Elizabeth smoothed her hands down the skirt of her working dress. She fed Penny her treat and stepped forward. “I didn’t realize you were—I didn’t know when you were coming back.”

“I was sworn in this morning,” Jason said—his voice hadn’t changed, and there was something strange about that. Hearing her beloved’s voice and looking at a much harder man.

“Oh. Well, welcome home, I guess.” Unsure what to do with her hands, she folded them tightly across her chest. “What brings you out here? I mean, the Lazy W isn’t on your way home.”

“No, I—” Jason hesitated. He took his hat off, looked down at the brim. He was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Maybe I had some questions I don’t know if I have the right to ask.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Questions—” She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know why you’d have any questions. You never seemed to have them before.”

“Before—” Jason furrowed his brow. “Before when?”

“When you didn’t answer any of my letters.” Elizabeth arched a brow. “I thought after ignoring my letters for two years, you’d run out of things to say to me.”

“W-What letters—” Jason shook his head. “What are you talking about—”

“Don’t pretend—” Elizabeth started past him. “You ignored every single letter I ever wrote to you, and I’m sure I have nothing to say to you now—”

He grabbed her arm, whirled her around to face him. “You—What letters?” he repeated. “You never wrote me a single word. I sent you letters for over a year. And I even sent telegrams that couldn’t get lost—”

They stared at each other for a long moment as Elizabeth blinked, then closed her eyes. “Telegrams,” she repeated softly. “Damn it.”

“What—”

She looked at him, saw some of the ice had melted and he looked more like the boy she’d loved once upon a time. “My father. That son of a bitch. I hope he’s rotting in hell.”

+2

Written in  25 minutes. No time for typos.

Jason stared at Elizabeth for a long moment, still not sure what was going on. “Your father?” he repeated. “Why would he—”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, but her face had changed — the brief flare of anger, of fury had vanished and her eyes were blank, her facial expression devoid of emotion.

“It doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth said finally. “It’s…it’s good to know you didn’t forget me, and I’m sure it must make you feel better to know that I did not forget you—”

He couldn’t wrap his mind around any of this. For a year, he’d sent her letters that had gone unanswered. He’d sent telegrams that had been ignored — and Elizabeth’s father had done something to make that happened — to force a severance of their relationship — and she…wanted to let it go?

“Why?” Jason asked said as Elizabeth turned away, started to walk rapidly away, towards the entrance of the barn. “Why would he—”

“He’s dead, so it does us no good to wonder what his reasons were.” This, she threw over her shoulder in an unbothered manner. “Life went on. I married, and I have my son now. And I’m sure you haven’t been pining for me all these years.”

In the bright sunshine of the yard, Jason lost her for a moment. He shaded his eyes and found her climbing the steps to the one story ranch home her grandfather had built when he’d come West from New York.

“Elizabeth—” He followed her and stopped her on the porch. “That’s not—”

“Because if you’d really wanted to know what happened, you had a choice I did not.” She focused on him, her eyes cold. “You had the benefit of knowing where I was. You could have come home any time. You could have asked your grandmother. You didn’t.”

“You could have asked her—” Jason bit out but then stopped. Because of course she couldn’t. Lila Quartermaine had been born into proper London society. Even half a century after leaving London for New York City, Lila would have been scandalized by a single woman asking after her grandson. Even a woman she liked.

“I could hardly get on a train to find you, and why would I?” Elizabeth shrugged off his hand. “You wrote a few letters, sent a few telegrams, then washed your hands of it, then you have the absolute nerve to come out here and demand to know why I married a man old enough to be my father nstead of waiting for a man who was never coming back.”

She lifted her chin. “You lost the right to ask me that question long ago.”

She stalked inside the house, letting the door slam shut behind her. Jason stared at it, then turned around to return to his horse.

He had other ways to discover what had happened.

______

When Jason arrived back in town, he went straight to the Diamond Springs Western Union office where stagecoaches and trains delivered also delivered the mail.

Behind the counter, he found the same woman manning the counter that had held the position when he’d left town seven years ago. Felicia Jones smiled brightly at him. “Good afternoon, Sheriff Morgan. It’s so lovely to see you back!”

“Mrs. Jones.” Jason hesitated, because now that she was standing in front of him, he wasn’t sure how to accuse her of stealing his mail or diverting Elizabeth’s letters. “I was wondering about some telegrams I sent here a few years ago.”

Her smile dimmed slightly, and he sighed. Because there it was — the glint of recoginition in her eyes. Felicia looked away, took a deep breath, and the smile returned in full force. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Jones. I sent two telegrams to Elizabeth Webber in the summer and fall of 1869,” he said carefully. “She never received them. She also never received any of my letters.”

“Well, mail goes missing from time to time,” Felicia began, but Jason shook his head.

“All twenty-four letters I wrote? Every single one? What about the letters she wrote me? She said she wrote two years worth of letters. I never received one of them.” He kept his tone even. “I’m just—I’m just looking for answers, Mrs. Jones.”

“I—”

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. I don’t even plan to tell anyone else.” He stepped closer to her. “I’m not here as an officer of the law, Mrs. Jones. I’m here as a man who wrote the woman he loves and never heard from her again.”

Felicia took a deep breath. “I was very fortunate to be given this position,” she said softly. “After my husband died, I had two little girls to care for. They had to come first. You must understand that.”

“I do.”

“I always felt terribly about the whole thing, especially when Elizabeth married Dr. Lewis. He was a nice man, but she was so young. I thought about telling her—but I would have lost my job. I have no other family. My daughters—”

“Mrs. Jones.”

“Jeff Webber is—was—on the town council. The city owns this business, and he—he threatened to fire me if I didn’t—” Felicia pressed her lips together. “But he’s dead now, isn’t he?”

“He is.”

“I saved them all,” she told him. “Even the telegrams. I thought—one day, one day, I’ll make it right.” She went into the back office, and then a few minutes later returned with a crate.

She set the wooden crate on top of the counter and took out a packet. “Here are your letters—” It was a thick packet—nearly all of his letters seemed to have reached Diamond Springs. Pinned to the top of the letters were his telegrams.

He stared at the rest of the crate, filled to the brim with letters. “Are all of those—”

“She wrote twice a week for two years,” Felicia murmured. “I thought about mailing them a few times, you know. Just letting one or two slip past, but Mr. Webber came in once and while to check, and I was just—” She looked at him. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to protect my family.”

“Twice a week—” Jason exhaled slowly. She’d written him longer and more often—and for all these years, he’d thought she’d forgotten him.

She was right. He’d abandoned her first.

+3

Written in 22 minutes. No time for edits.

Several days after her encounter with Jason out at the ranch, Elizabeth ventured back into Diamond Springs to pick up her mail and complete a few other errands. She drew up her cart in front of the Western Union and turned to her son with a smile. “Would you like to get some peppermints from the general store when we finish here?”

“Yes, Mama,” Cameron said, with a teethy grin. “I like peppermints.”

“Let me help you there, Mrs. Lewis,” Lucas Jones said, striding forward with a quick grin. He held her hand as Elizabeth navigated her skirts of the wheel and settled herself on the ground.

“Thank you, Lucas,” Elizabeth said, tying the horse to the hitching post while Lucas hauled Cameron out of the cart. “How are you? How is the family?”

“You know my mother,” Lucas said with a roll of his eyes. “Looking for gossip and drama.” Barbara Jones, his mother and owner of the local general store, had a reputation for enjoying the peccadillos of Diamond Springs residents—

Which was why Elizabeth never lingered.

“I’m sure. Well, thank you again,” she said, reaching for Cameron’s hand. “Have a nice day.”

She left the blinding sunshine behind, walking through the doorway of the telegraph office. Felicia Jones was busy behind the counter, looking through some paperwork when. When the blonde looked up—her face drained of her color.

“Mrs. Lewis. I wasn’t….I didn’t—” She swallowed hard. “I was wondering when you might come in.”

Elizabeth frowned, walking up to the counter. “Don’t wander too far,” she murmured to her son as she released his hand. “And be careful.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Is everything all right, Mrs. Jones? I’m here to for my mail. I’m expecting—” She tilted her head to the side as Felicia sucked in a deep breath.

“You just want your mail.”

“Yes. What else?”

“I would have thought—” Felicia began to wave a fan back and forth, the tendrils of her blonde hair stirring with the light breeze. “I thought the sheriff—but if he didn’t tell you—”

At the mention of Jason’s name, Elizabeth’s chest seized. “What about the sheriff?”

Oh, God. Had Jason come here searching for the truth about their missing letters? Elizabeth hadn’t let herself think about where exactly her mail had gone missing—but of course—she’d given her letters directly to Felicia Jones twice a week.

“Mrs. Jones,” Elizabeth said sweetly. “If you would please, explain to me exactly what did Jason Morgan have to say to you? And how did you respond?”

Felicia swallowed hard. “Well…”

——————

Jason shook his head as he walked away from the holding cell and hung up the keys. “You’re not gettin’ out of there, Coleman, until I’m satisfied you’re stone cold sober,” he called to the slurring and angry man behind him. “And until you swear on the Bible you won’t be visitng Mrs. McCall’s or any of her girls.”

“Aww, come on…” Coleman rolled over the cot, his bleary eyes red and bloodshot. “It was just a tickle—”

“I guess you’ll be in there for a long time,” Jason muttered as he closed the door to the back room and went back out front where his deputy—and cousin—Dillon Quartermaine was lounging with the newest book from the circulating library.

He shook his head and knocked Dillon’s legs off his desk. “No wonder they needed someone to come in and take over for the last sheriff. Go in the back and sit with Coleman if you’re gonna read.”

Dillon muttered but got to his feet. “I was just getting to the good part,” he complained, but he obeyed.

No sooner had Dillon disappeared back to the holding cells than the front door was shoved open and a very angry woman strode in, a small boy attached to her side.

Jason blinked. “Elizabeth, I didn’t—”

“Where are they?” Elizabeth demanded as she came into the light. Her eyes were sparking with fury, and some of her brown hair had come loose from its topknot. “You had no right—”

“I—”

“Mama, is he the law?” the little boy asked, ducking behind his mother’s dark blue skirts. He peeked out, the sunny blonde hair a stark contrast against the fabric.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, seemed to gather herself. “Yes, Cameron, apparently, he is.” She lifted her chin. “This is my son, Cameron Lewis.”

“I’m named after my papa,” Cameron said, feeling a bit better obviously with his mother’s tone having shifted. “He smelled like butterscotch.”

Jason didn’t know what to do with Elizabeth’s presence so he concentrated on the boy. He crouched down and offered what he hoped was a friendly smile. “I knew your father. Dr. Lewis was a nice man.”

“He went to heaven,” Cameron said with a sigh. “Mama said he was gonna take care of me there.”

“I’m sure he loved you very much.” Jason’s throat tightened at the sight of the little boy with the blonde hair and blue eyes. He could have been Jason’s son from the coloring, but he knew he’d just likely inherited the streak of blonde from Elizabeth’s sister, Sarah, who’d died when they were children.

He got to his feet and focused on the mother again. “Elizabeth—”

“I just spoke to Mrs. Jones at the telegraph office,” she said tightly. “Imagine my surprise when she seemed terrified to see me, sure I was going to make a scene about some letters she’d hidden from me. Or letters she’d never mailed.” Her lips trembled slightly. “Where are they?”

“I didn’t—”

“I don’t care if they were addressed to you, that doesn’t make them yours now!” Elizabeth retorted. “I want them back. They’re not for you. Not anymore.”

“I understand—” His chest ached, and he wondered again at what she’d written that she was so desperate to get back. “I’d like to give them back, but—”

“But what?” Elizabeth cut in, her voice like ice.

“They’re not here. They’re in my rooms at the boarding house.” Jason exhaled slowly. “I’ll bring them to you. After I’m finished here for the day. I have them—”

“Did you read them?” Her breath was shaky now. “How many? Which ones?”

“None of them,” Jason told her gently. “You’re right. They were written to a boy who didn’t deserve them. They’re not mine. I’ll bring them out to the ranch.”

She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. “I just—I just want them back. I never—” Elizabeth looked at him again, then nodded. “All right. I’ll be expecting you before dark. Good day.”

He watched her sweep out with her son in tow, wondering what the hell was going on and why whatever had happened five years ago was still haunting her now.

+2

Written in 22 minutes. No time for edits.

It was nearly sunset when Jason was able to take the letters out to the Lazy W. He’d packed them carefully into his saddlebags, wishing he’d found a way to handle all of this without bringing Elizabeth more pain.

It was an unsettling sensation to switch off the last five years of resentment he’d felt towards Elizabeth. He’d stopped writing her after his telegrams had gone unanswered, but the letter from his grandmother a year later with its single off hand mention of the Webber girl marrying into the Lewis family had changed things. He’d wondered at first if maybe she’d just lost interest or if he’d imagined how they felt about each other—

But to know that Elizabeth had married into the Lewis family, one of the most respectiable—and wealthiest in Diamond Springs—he’d started to think that maybe she’d wanted something better than a guy who’d needed to leave town to make his money.

He’d never dreamed she’d married the head of the family—the much older Cameron Lewis. He’d expected Alexander or Peter, Cameron’s sons. He’d known them growing up, and Elizabeth had always been the prettiest girl in town. He wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them had used Jason’s absence to court her.

He wondered where those sons were now, and why they weren’t helping her with their youngest brother. Why Elizabeth appeared to be struggling to make ends meet on her family’s ranch when the Lewises had once had more wealth.

Jason suspected the answer to all these mysteries were hidden somewhere in her letters—and now the resentment he’d once felt had been replaced by concern. Worry.

Something had happened to drive Elizabeth away five years ago-to make her stop writing him. Something had destroyed the Lewis family’s wealth.

He just didn’t know how to find any of that out without hurting Elizabeth.

As Jason rode up the drive towards the ranch home, he furrowed his brow at the gray horse hitched up out front of the house. He’d seen Elizabeth’s small collection of horse on his He previous visit—this wasn’t one of hers.

Jason had no sooner tied up his own horse than the door opened and the owner of mystery house revealed himself as Ric Lansing stalked out of the front door, the porch door slapping against the wall of the house.

“I am out of patience, Elizabeth,” Ric snapped, all the charm and swagger Jason expected from the older man, absent. “You either agree now or—” He sputtered to a stop as Jason stepped out from behind his horse and tipped the hat back on his head.

“Is there a problem here?” Jason asked, flatly.

Still inside the house, Elizabeth stood at the threshold of the door. He couldn’t quite see her face clearly behind the mesh screen. She didn’t move. Didn’t open the door.

“Nothing that concerns you,” Ric snarled. He threw another glare at Elizabeth before stalking down the steps and roughly untying his horse. He mounted and took off down the drive at a gallop.

When Ric had passed under the arch entrace of the ranch, Elizabeth finally pushed open the door and stepped outside, her face pale but her expression carefully blank. “Did you bring them?”

“Yeah. Elizabeth—”

“Leave them on the porch.” Then she went back inside, the door slapping shut.

Jason ignored that direction. He grabbed his saddlebags and, cautiously, pulled the door open to step inside her foyer.

The house looked the same as it had when he’d last been in it—the week before her elder brother, Steven, had died from an infection. The wallpaper was a bit thinner, some of the furniture in the parlor had faded, but it looked familiar.

Elizabeth was standing in front of the mantel, holding herself tightly. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned to look at him. “I didn’t ask you in.”

“No, you didn’t. But I was worried some of the letters might get taken by the wind.” Jason flipped open the saddle back and started to take out the letters. There were a few stacks of them, bundled together with twine.

Her lips were thin, nearly white as she watched him. “I’d forgotten how many…” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “She never mailed a single one.”

She stepped closer to him—just a few feet—so that she could pick up one of the bundles. “She didn’t even bother with postage.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know if it does either of us any better to have these,” Jason admitted. He took out the final stack and held it out.

Elizabeth frowned as she took them. “These are—” She met his eyes briefly, then they darted away. “These are addressed to me—” She ran her fingers over her name. “These are yours.”

“Yeah. All twenty-four. Twice a month for a year.” The corner of Jason’s mouth quirked up. “Felicia Jones even packaged the telegrams with them.”

She closed her eyes and a tear slid down her cheek. Just one. Elizabeth pressed the bundle to her chest as she took a deep breath. “You—” She looked at him. “You didn’t forget me.”

“No.”

Her breath was shaky as she exhaled. “I didn’t forget you.”

“I know.” He looked at the letters. “And you had more faith in me than I did you. I should have—I should have asked my grandmother about you.”

“I should have asked her about you,” Elizabeth repeated. “She might not have answered me, but maybe she would have told you.”

After a long moment, Elizabeth met his eyes again. “Thank you for bringing them in. I am relieved to have them back. But I should be getting supper together for Cameron—”

“I’ll go,” Jason told her. “Before I do, there are just—there’s just—Lansing looked angry when he left. Is he bothering you?”

“He’s always bothered me,” she murmured. “Since I turned seventeen. It’s nothing new, and I can handle it.”

Jason wasn’t sure about that, but he didn’t want to press it. He’d keep an eye on Ric Lansing in town and find out for himself. “Where are Alexander and Peter?”

Elizabeth blinked at him, then frowned. “What?”

“Cameron’s other sons. Why aren’t they here? Why—” He swallowed his question about why she’d married the father, not the sons.

“They’re—they passed away.” Elizabeth held his letters out. “You should take these.”

“I wrote them to you. They’re yours.” Jason tipped his head. “How long ago? When did they die? My grandmother never wrote about it.”

She stared at him for a long time—so long he didn’t know if she’d answer. Then finally, Elizabeth sighed. “Five years ago. And because I know you’ll only ask someone else—Alexander killed his brother, then himself.”

+2

Written in  20   minutes. No time for typos.

After Elizabeth’s revelations about the fate of the Lewis brothers, she closed up and Jason knew he wouldn’t get any more answers, so he left the ranch and headed back to town. Instead of going to the boarding house where he was staying, he rode towards the older part of town, where the founders’ families lived.

Where his grandmother still lived in the elegant home his grandfather had built when Diamond Springs had been little more than a boom town in 1850. Edward Quartermaine had uprooted his entire family to travel west, taking the fortune he’d made in property and commerce in New York City.

The Quartermaines had come west with the Hardys, the Webbers, Lewises, and Joneses. Jason had traveled with them, no more than three years old, the illegitimate grandson that Edward had refused to leave behind when his mother, Susan, had died in childbirth.

The Quartermaines had built the town, but had declined over the last decade as men died and women left to find better options in San Francisco or Sacremento. Now, only Jason and his grandmother were left.

Lila beamed at him as he strode into her little parlor. “Darling! I have been longing to see you.” She extended her hand and Jason bowed over it, an old habit from his youth when she’d been missing the England and ballrooms of her youth.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by very much,” he told her.

“You could solve that if you lived in your old rooms,” Lila said with a sly smile. “You’d have the run of the house—”

Jason hid his grimace, but shook his head. “I like the boarding house for now. It’s closer to the jail.”

Lila pursed her lips, then nodded. “All right. We’ll discuss it at another time.” She patted his hand. “It’s rather late for a visit, dearest. Have you a reason for coming by?”

Jason hesitated. His grandmother was a wonderful woman, but she was strict about manners and propriety. He couldn’t simply ask her what had happened to Elizabeth Webber five years ago, when she’d stopped writing—but maybe he could work around to it.

“I was told today that the Lewis brothers both died,” Jason said hesitantly. “I was surprised by that—they were young. I was hoping you might tell me what happened.”

Lila frowned slightly with a bit of a gimlet eye—as if she knew exactly why he was asking. “The Lewis brothers? Alexander and Peter? Why, I haven’t given them a single thought in years.” Her voice shook slightly, and he heard the lie.

“Interesting.” Jason raised a brow. “Because I would think a murder-suicide would be memorable.”

Lila pursed her lips, drew back her hands. “Well, if you already know the gory details, my dear, then why are you asking me?”

“Because you never mentioned it,” Jason told her. “You wrote about everything—but not this. And I wanted to know why.”

“This is about that Webber girl,” Lila said, her voice tight. “You were hoping to marry her when you came home. But you never came home—”

“Because you wrote to tell me she was married. I always thought she’d married one of the brothers.” And it had torn at him—Jason had refused to touch the inheritance from his grandfather or father, but the Lewis brothers didn’t have that problem. He’d wondered if Elizabeth had married for the money.

“Well, by the time she married, there was only one Lewis left,” Lila said sharply. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. She was a lovely girl, but I couldn’t abide being connected to that family. That Jeffrey Webber was a terrible person—”

“Grandmother, Elizabeth and I wrote to each other for two years—and her father arranged to keep all of our letters from reaching us.”

Lila’s nostrils flared as she reared back. “That reprobate! How dare he! You are a Quartermaine! He should be so lucky!” She twisted her hands in her lap. “How dare he,” she muttered. “If your grandfather were still with us—”

“Do you know what happened to Cameron’s sons?” Jason asked gently. “And why is Elizabeth at the Lazy W when she should be here, in town? In the Lewis house?”

“The Lewis house was sold after the incident,” Lila said. “She and Cameron made their home on the ranch. There was no—” She sighed. “There was no money. Alexander gambled away his share, and Peter had made a terrible investment—between the two of them, it was all Cameron could do to settle their debts. Then—” Lila twisted her handkerchief in her hands. “Alexander and Peter insisted that they were being tricked—that they’d been tricked out of their money, but they argued with each other, and—well, no one knows for sure what caused it. But it was over the loss of the money, we’re sure of it.”

Jason sat back. “So…Elizabeth’s marriage had nothing to do with them?” he asked, skeptically.

“Well, I don’t know about any of that. I know that Jeffrey Webber was hoping she would agree to marry that awful banker,” Lila said with a sniff. She didn’t trust anyone who handled money for a living. “But she never did. She and Alexander were always friends as children—you know that. I suppose we thought they might marry, but then the tragedy—” Lila smiled thinly at him. “Does it matter now, dearest?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted. He was looking for a reason Elizabeth had stopped writing him, why her letters seemed to be such a secret — but maybe it wasn’t that difficult to understand.

She’d written more than a hundred letters to a man who’d never answered them. Why would anyone keep writing?

Jason frowned, looked at Lila. “Wait, Alexander and Peter claimed someone was tricking them?”

“That was the rumor, but I don’t pay much attention to those. It was probably their pride—”

“Maybe.” But Jason couldn’t get the thought out of his head that Elizabeth had stopped writing him, might have married Alexander Lewis—and then Alexander and Peter were broke, without money.

And Ric Lansing was a banker who was still bothering Elizabeth now, seven years after she’d rejected his proposal of marriage on her seventeenth birthday.

+3

Written in 21  minutes. No time for rereading.

Elizabeth forced a smile at her surly son as he threw himself on the sofa in their parlor, burrowing his face in one of the pillows. “I’m sorry, Cam,” she murmured, sitting beside him and rubbing his back. “I know how much you love going into town, but I have a meeting and it’s easier if you stay home.”

“Don’t wanna stay home,” Cameron’s muffled words were laced with bitterness and insult.

“I bet that Mrs. Baldwin will sneak you some cookies,” Elizabeth said as she flashed a more genuine smile at their housekeeper, Gail Baldwin. She’d been with Elizabeth’s family since she was a small girl and was the closest thing to a grandparent Cameron would likely know.

Cameron turned his face slightly to look at her suspiciously. “How many cookies?”

“Oh, as many as you like,” Gail said with a laugh as the music of Ireland danced in her voice. “Come with me to the kitchen and let your mam take care of her boring business.”

Cameron slid of the sofa and bounced across the room to take Gail’s hand. Elizabeth sent Gail a grateful look as she crossed to the closet and drew out her hat and driving gloves. “I’ll be back before sunset,” she promised them.

The drive into town gave Elizabeth time to think and plan her strategy. It was important that this meeting went the way she wanted it to, but when it came to Ric Lansing, one always had to be six steps ahead.

And unfortunately, Ric always seemed to have a backup scheme to derail even Elizabeth’s best escape plans. If this didn’t work, she’d need to pull up stakes and leave Diamond Springs. Leave behind her grandparents’ ranch and everything they’d ever worked for.

Once more, she cursed her father and hoped he was roasting in hell for what he’d done to her.

She drove past the jail, keeping her eyes straight. She didn’t want to catch even the slightest glimpse of Jason Morgan today. Or any day coming. She wanted to pretend he didn’t exist for as long as she could.

She wondered if things really would have been different if Felicia Jones hadn’t stolen her letters and kept Jason’s from her. Would Jason have come home? Would he have received her pleas?

She was relieved to have the letters in her possession — she’d checked all of them and they’d remained unsealed—all the letters she’d sent over two years — and then one single letter she’d sent in desperation six months after the last.

She steered her cart and horse toward the livery stables to store them while she was in town, and started across the street to the bank. She stopped to look at the outside, at the name of Lansing etched into the sign.

Of course if Jason had received her letters, if he’d come home—Ric would have just found a reason to destroy him like he had anyone else Elizabeth had turned to over the years.

When she stepped inside the bank, she found her tormentor smiling at her. “Right on time, Bethie—”

“That has never been my name and you do not have my permission to address me so formally,” Elizabeth snapped. She drew off her riding gloves and tucked them into her reticule. “Now, I believe you have some paperwork for me to examine.”

Ric’s smile faded as his eyes narrowed. “You haven’t come to your senses yet, I see. Well, then, come to my office—”

She followed him into the smaller room and took a seat—but she jerked out of the chair when he started to close the door. “Don’t you dare,” Elizabeth snapped. “You leave the door open! I will not have you ruin my good name.”

Ric pursed his lips. “Fine. I had thought to give us some privacy, but have it your way.” He took his seat and slid paperwork across the desk. “As I said, here is the mortgage your father took out on the Lazy W. Payments were made on time until his death two years ago, and you now owe me all the back payments, including interest.”

Elizabeth didn’t look down at the paperwork. “Is that contract any more real than the one you gave Alexander? Or Peter?” Her lips pressed together. “Or my husband?”

Ric raised a brow, then leaned back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bethie. This is why you need someone at your side to take care of you. You just can’t do it alone—”

“If I remember correctly, you also presented my husband with a mortgage contract.” Her fingers clenched in her lap. “And when he could not pay what you said he owed, you took him to court. You took our home.”

“Well, he should not have done business if he couldn’t pay the price.” Ric’s smile was almost feral. “Cameron should have known better.”

“You mean I should have known better,” she murmured softly. “The moment I accepted Cameron’s proposal, you were going to do to him what you’d done to anyone I’d ever thought about marrying.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“I always wondered what you’d done to Jason,” Elizabeth said. “When I didn’t receive any word from him—I assumed you were right. That his grandmother was right. But now I know. You, my father, and Lila Quartermaine were in this together—”

Ric tipped his head. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, Lila never would have worked with you if she’d known my father was involved, but she never cared for me.” Elizabeth looked away. “I will never marry you. You can take everything I have, but I promise you—”

“Well, if the Lazy W isn’t enough to convince you—” Ric slid another piece of paper across the table. “This might do it.”

Elizabeth frowned as she picked up the paper, her heart pounding as she recognized her own writing—but this wasn’t hers. She hadn’t written this.

“You forged a letter from me—to you—” Her blood iced over. “Claiming that I was pregnant with your child—”

“If you decline to marry me this time, Bethie, I will take what is mine. I’ll have my son.”

“He’s not—” White spots danced in her eyes. “He’s not—”

“Who do you think the courts will believe? You? After the trail of destruction you left? Or me?” Ric raised his brows. “What will it be?”

+2

Written in 20 minutes. No time for edits.

When the door to the jail opened that afternoon, Jason was immersed in a letter from a marshal in Sacremento, so he didn’t look up right away, thinking that Dillon would handle it.

“Uh, cuz?”

Jason blinked and looked up to find Dillon standing in front of him, gestured to the entry way where a pale Elizabeth was standing. “She, ah, said it was—”

Jason dropped the letter to the desk and got to his feet. “Elizabeth. What’s wrong?”

She slid a glance at the younger man who put his hands up. “I’m gonna go take a walk, see if Coleman is causing trouble again.”

Jason walked Dillon to the door, then dropped the latch behind him. He turned back to face Elizabeth. “What happened?”

“I—” She swallowed and her hands fluttered up to her face, then down again as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “Um, you were a marshal before you came here, weren’t you? I—I never asked, and no one said, but you—”

“Yes.” Jason hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder, intending to steer her towards the desk and a chair to sit in. When she didn’t protest, his worry only deepened. “I couldn’t find steady work with the railroad,” he told her, leaning on the desk. “But the marshal service in San Francisco was hiring. Are you—do you need a marshal?”

“I only—” She closed her eyes. “The court. Um, we don’t have a regular judge here. He travels, but we can—we can petition for things, and people could petition a judge for something.”

“Yes—”

“I just—do you know anything about the law? About what a judge might do?” A tear clung to her lower lash and she swiped away.

He knelt in front of her. “Elizabeth, tell me what’s happened. What’s wrong?”

“Can a man—can he pretend to have a letter that says he’s the father of a child and—take the child?” Her voice was so faint as she asked the question he could barely hear it. The blood in Jason’s veins chilled as he accepted the implications of the statement.

“Who has a letter that says that?”

“He couldn’t, couldn’t he?” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Oh, God, if he couldn’t, you would just say that—oh, God, he’s going to take my baby, and it’s not even true—” She buried her face in her hands.

“No one is taking your son, Elizabeth,” Jason told her firmly. “We—we’re talking about Cameron?”

“What?” She blinked, raised her head, then nodded. “Of course. We—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “He forged the letter. It’s not true. But that won’t matter. His forgeries always hold up.”

“Always—” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Lansing.”

Miserable, she nodded and looked away. “He could do it, couldn’t he? It doesn’t matter that we’re not married, that Cameron isn’t his child. That I never, ever let him touch me—”

“It does matter,” Jason told her. “Cameron was born while your husband was alive, and Dr. Lewis raised him, didn’t he?”

“Cameron is his son,” Elizabeth insisted. “I don’t care what anyone in this town thinks—I never ever—” She shot out of her chair. “I never broke my vows. My promises.”

“I know,” Jason said gently. She met his eyes. “I believe you. What I mean by that is that legally speaking, a child born in wedlock is legally the responsibility of the husband. Cameron Lewis could have left you and legally taken his son from you, but it doesn’t matter what a letter says. Dr. Lewis had a will, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” She sucked in a deep breath, feeling steadier. “Yes. He knew—God, he knew what Ric was. What he could do. He was afraid—so he made sure to say I have guardianship. He didn’t want Ric to forge a will saying any differently. He even went to Sacramento to have someone else witness it.”

“Good. You are Cameron’s mother, and his father made sure that you retained guardianship in the event of his death. That’s all you need. Ric Lansing can forge all the letters he want, but a judge isn’t going to disrupt that. Not when it would declare Cameron illegitimate.”

The tension bled out of her shoulders and Elizabeth sighed. “Thank you. I’m sorry—I just—I didn’t know who else to ask—”

“What other forgeries?” Jason demanded. “Why did Dr. Lewis go to all that trouble to protect you and Cameron?”

“I—” She shook her head. “It’s not important. All that matters is that he can’t take Cameron. That’s—he can take everything else, but not my son—”

“What else—” Jason swore as she started to leave. With his longer legs, he was able to reach the door before her. “If you think I’m going to let you leave without telling me what the hell Ric Lansing is up to—what he’s done to you—”

“Jason—I only—I can handle this—”

“I’m sure you can. You’ve been handling it for years, haven’t you?” Jason demanded. “And I know you’re strong. It’s not a question of can you do it—you shouldn’t have to. He’s breaking the law. That’s what I’m here for —”

“I tried to stop him once,” Elizabeth murmured. “But Sheriff Ramsay said that I should just stop playing coy and marry him.”

Jason grimaced — Burt Ramsay had been a terrible person and an even worse officer of the law. “I’m not Sheriff Ramsay.”

“No.” She sighed. “You’re not. All right. You want to know what Ric forged?” Elizabeth folded her arms. “Where do I start? With the loan documents that wiped out my grandfather’s savings, and led to his heart attack? The mortage papers that he showed my father—which is probably part of the reason he stole our letters—”

Jason swore. “Damn it—”

“The investment papers he used to swindle Peter out of his inheritance or the gambling debts he forged with Alexander? How about the loan and mortgage documents he gave the court to take my husband’s money and home away from him?”

He stared at her. “Elizabeth—”

“Or last week, when he gave me an update mortgage document saying that I was losing the Lazy W?” She raised her brows. “And that’s just the paperwork he’s used to harass me for the last eight years.”

“Eight—but I was still here—”

“He saw me the day he moved to Diamond Springs when I was just sixteen years old,” Elizabeth told him. “And apparently, he likes to collect pretty things. I’m just the first thing he’s tried to collect he can’t get.”

+2

Written in 20 minutes. No time for edits or typos.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and stepped back from Jason. “Thank you for your advice,” she told him. “I can handle it from here—”

“Elizabeth—” Jason stepped forward, tried to grab her elbow but she smoothly evaded him and opened the door. He followed her outside. “Please–

“I have—” She closed her eyes, put up a hand to keep him away. “I have humiliated myself quite enough, Jason. Sheriff,” she corrected. It was important to remember that. He wasn’t the boy of her youth—no matter what he’d said or the letters that had been stolen—

He could have simply returned. He hadn’t.

“I feel satisfied that if Ric attempted to take legal action with custody of my child, that I am protected. My husband’s will was handled in Sacramento. I have my own copies. He can take whatever else he wants—Cameron is what matters.”

“I can help,” Jason promised her as she started across the street to the livery stables. “Let me—”

“Sheriff Scorpio said he would help us when Ric stole Cameron’s home.” Elizabeth lifted her chin. “He couldn’t. Ric has too many friends in powerful places in this county. I need—I need to leave.”

“But—”

Yes, that was the answer. She’d hoped to stay—hoped to continue her family’s legacy, her grandfather’s dream but the ranch was already lost. All she could do was start over somewhere else.

“Thank you again, Sheriff. But I don’t need you.” She met his eyes. “I can manage on my own. I always have.”

Jason flinched. “I’m sorry—”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You made the decisions that felt right to you, and now it is up to me to do the same.”

She turned her back on him to retrieve her horse and cart, and Jason finally returned to the jail.

But he couldn’t get his conversation with Elizabeth out of his mind, and the conviction that there had to be a way to stop Ric from continuing to destroy Elizabeth’s life and the lives the people around him.

When the sun had dipped behind the Sierra Nevadas and the night deputy had arrived, Jason took his hat off the post and headed back to his grandmother’s.

Lila Quartermaine had some questions to answer.

“Dearest.” Lila beamed as he entered the parlor. “I was hoping you would join me for some dinner. You remember Mrs. Barrington—” She gestured to the other elderly woman seated on the chaise.

“Sheriff,” Amanda Barrington murmured with a hint of disdain. He’d never live down his illegitimacy to some of these people, and Jason had stopped caring long ago.

“Grandmother, I can’t stay but I was hoping we could talk in private for a moment.”

“Jason, I have a guest—”

“That’s quite all right, Lila.” Amanda got to her feet. “You should deal with…” She sniffed. “His problem. I’ll see you another evening.”

She swept by Jason as if she were still swanning around the parlors of New York City, as if her family hadn’t lost most of its wealth before the gold strike.

“Jason, I hope you can explain your rude behavior,” Lila said as he strode forward, closing the parlor doors behind him.

“If you can answer a question honestly.” Jason perched on the edge of the sofa, narrowing his eyes at his indomitable grandmother. “Did you do anything to keep Elizabeth’s letters from me? Or mine from her?”

“I hardly see what relevance that has.” Lila rose to her feet and crossed to the mental. She folded her arms and stared into the fire. “It was ancient history—”

“So the answer is yes.” Jason’s stomach sank. He had trusted her—had trusted this beloved member of his family with the person he loved and Lila had let him down.

He’d let Elizabeth down by trusting the wrong people.

“Jason—”

“If you don’t tell me what happened, I will leave this town and never come back,” Jason told her bluntly. “And Dillon will be all that’s left.”

Lila pursed her lips. “That’s a terrible thing to threaten an old woman.” She squared her shoulders. “Jeffrey Webber told me that he found you to be an unsuitable husband for his daughter. I disagreed, of course. You might not have been born in wedlock, but the Quartermaines were certainly better than the Webber or Hardys.”

“Grandmother—”

“And when I refused to help him keep you two apart, he made sure I regretted it. He had been your grandfather’s doctor, you know. He refused to come to see Edward when he had his last—” Lila pressed her fingers to her lips. “He refused to see to Edward. Dr. Lewis did what he could, but the delay—your grandfather never recovered fully. He remained weakened .”

“I—” Jason swallowed. “But—”

“I was going to write you. To demand you come home and take care of this. To—to help.” Lila met his eyes. “But then Richard Lansing came to the house. And he showed me—”

She closed her eyes. “Somehow he had a copy of a mortgage. He said our bank accounts were empty. That he owned my house. And that the only way I could have the money restored in the bank was to…was to tell Elizabeth what I needed to tell her.”

Jason clenched his fists. Ric had tormented his family? What hadn’t anyone told him?

“I—I knew how you felt about her of course, and I thought, well I’ll tell him but I’ll tell you the truth. But then—he told me he owned shared in the railroad you had signed on with—that he could arrange to assign you to the—” Lila’s lips pursed. “To work with the Chinese. Blowing up tunnels, doing the worst of the work—he’d put you on the front. And he could do that before I could reach you.”

Jason remembered the two years he’d worked on the railroads in Northern California, and the Chinese workers with the company had been the most dangerous and lethal jobs—many had died. Ric had threatened to kill him.

“Grandmother—”

“He just—he wanted me to tell Elizabeth that you’d married someone else.” Lila swallowed hard. “And I did. I’m so sorry, darling—”

“When—” Jason stared at her. “When did you tell her? How?”

“Elizabeth had come to me shortly after Alexander and Peter had died. It was a terrible time—she wanted to send a letter to you. She’d written you for the first time in a few months—apparently, she had given up but their deaths had, I supposed, encouraged her to reach out again. She wanted to send a second one with my letters, to make sure it reached you.”

“And you told her—”

“That you had married someone else nearly a year earlier. That you’d…” Lila looked ghastly as she finished her statement. “That you must have forgotten her because you’d never asked about her. Not even once.”

+2

Written in 20 minutes. No time for typos.

If Jason hadn’t been a man of the law, the conversations with Elizabeth and his grandmother might have been enough to convince him to walk over to Ric Lansing’s fancy home a few streets from his grandmother and shoot him dead over his supper.

As it was, even with the badge pinned to his shirt, Jason wasn’t finding a lot to talk him out of it. Worried, however, about the paperwork Elizabeth said existed about a mortage on her ranch, Jason didn’t want to do anything that might put her out of a home.

First, he needed to prove Ric Lansing was a thieving monster so that Elizabeth and his grandmother would be safe—so that Cameron Lewis and his sons would have a measure of justice—

Then he’d kill him.

He slept on the problem that night, turning over the problem in his head as he slept restlessly in his rented rooms at the boarding house. The next morning, he decided to start with the man himself and see how Ric Lansing would account for his grandmother’s story about a mortage on her property.

He walked over to the bank before it opened — wanting to catch Lansing unawares. He sat on a wooden bench outside the brick entrance, stretched out his legs and waited.

Just before nine, Lansing sauntered across the street from the livery where he’d stabled his horse—stopping short as he recognized Jason. If Jason hadn’t been looking he might have missed the flicker of uncertainty in Ric’s expression.

Then it smoothed out and Ric adopted that smug smile Jason had always hated. “Sheriff. What can I do for you?”

“I had a question about my grandfather’s will,” Jason said, shortly. He got to his feet. “My grandmother said that you had a copy here at the bank.”

“Question?” Ric echoed. He unlocked the entrance, then indicated for Jason to follow him inside. “It was relatively straightforward. Of course, you could have come back for the reading.” He turned at the doorway to his own office, lifting a brow. “I believe you said you couldn’t be spared.”

“I was too far away,” Jason said flatly. “On an assignment in Texas. One of my grandfather’s cousins back East is disputing the estate. Claiming that Grandfather promised him a bequest.”

“Oh.” Ric’s brow smoothed out and he walked over to a set of cabinets. “That’s simple enough. The estate was left your grandmother in whole, with specific bequests for you and for your cousin, Dillon.” He flipped through the portfolio. “Yes. No mention of family back East. I was under the impression everyone who mattered had come with Edward when he moved out here.”

“He had a brother he didn’t speak to,” Jason said. He held out his hand for the portfiolio but Ric didn’t didn’t budge. “Is there a problem with letting me look at the estate documents? It should have all of that in writing—” He paused. “Including any demands on the estate or the house.”

“The house.” Ric set the portfolio down, then smiled at him. “I thought Bethie might have wandered over to you. I thought you’d come to see me about her problem.”

“Her problem turns out to be a common one in Diamond Springs,” Jason said dryly. “A lot of people who don’t need to mortgage their properties finding out they had. Steve Hardy, Edward Quartermaine, and Cameron Lewis founded this town. They owned a lot of it for a long time. I find it hard to believe all three of them mortgaged their properties to you.”

“And yet…” Ric slid out papers with another one of those smiles. “They did. Cameron’s debts were paid off with the sale of his house—”

“Debts to the bank,” Jason said. “In other words—you have the money his sons would have inherited—”

“What money?” Ric shrugged. “Your grandmother paid off her mortgage—”

“With a letter to Elizabeth lying about my marriage?” Jason cut in. “Strange way to absolve a debt—”

“It’s within my rights to assign value to the payments I received.” Ric looked at Jason. “You might have that tin star on your shirt, Sheriff, but we both know there’s nothing you can do. Not without breaking that oath you just swore to uphold.”

“It doesn’t bother you that Elizabeth doesn’t want you? That she never wanted you?”

Ric smirked, then folded up the papers and slid them back into the leather portfolio. He returned it to the cabinet, locked it. He turned back to Jason.

“I see you’ve been swallowing that radical nonsense, too. Next, you’ll be thinking women should have the right to vote.” He folded his arms. “No, it doesn’t bother me. I take what I want. And right now, she’s what I want.”

Ric lifted his chin. “And if you think that reaching for that gun in your holster worries me, I should tell you that all copies of the mortgages have been filed with the county assessment office. My estate will call in all debts. You might kill me, but Elizabeth will lose everything anyway.”

Jason stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “All right. I only came here to see if you’d be dumb enough to admit it. Have a good day, Lansing.”

—

Elizabeth smiled wanly at the telegram Mrs. Baldwin had brought her back from the telegraph office that morning when she’d arrived for her work. “Well, that’s it, I suppose.”

“Dear?” Gail asked with a smile. She set a plate of hotcakes and sausage in front of Cameron. “Are you sure you won’t eat? Was the telegraph bad news?”

“No. No. It’s—I wasn’t expecting a reply so quickly.” After leaving the jail the day before, she’d gone to the Western Union and sent an express to an old friend.

And Patrick Drake had replied to day, agreeing to the purchase. She looked at Cameron. “Darling, how would you like to live in San Francisco?”

+2