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  "I'm building a house here." He nodded across the clearing. "I'm in a hurry, so I'll hire out most of the work that needs doing."

  Lucas considered his statement with surprise.

  "I'm building a gristmill over south by the rails," Hayes continued. "There's a lot to be done. You can stay here. Food and bed and, say, ten dollars a week till the job's completed."

  Ten dollars a week! Why, it wouldn't take him long and he'd have enough to get clear o' this place... maybe to buy passage on a boat somewheres. Get far enough away from the people who wanted to say how he should live his life while they didn't care what he wanted. It sounded too good to be true. Anything lookin' this good probably wasn't true.

  Nobody ever did something without wanting something in return. Skeptically, he cast Hayes a sidelong look. "What's the catch?"

  "Catch is you earn it, kid."

  The man hadn't shot him. Hadn't tossed him out into the rain. Hadn't dragged him into town and turned him over to the law. Lucas still couldn't trust him, but he'd take his chances. What did he have to lose? "You live here, then?"

  "I'm going to. My things don't come for two more days."

  "Anybody else live here?"

  "My niece and an Indian friend will be coming soon."

  Lucas conjured up a picture of a near-naked brave, wielding a tomahawk. His scalp prickled. "An Injun? Coming he-re?" His voice broke embarrassingly on that word. "How come? How'd ya meet 'im?"

  "I met him before the war. I didn't see him while I fought—m "

  "Did you kill a lot o' rebs?"

  "I was an officer. I did what I had to do. Afterward, I was assigned to protect the railroad crews coming this way, and I ran into Red Horse again. We shared a lot of campfires."

  "What's he coming for?"

  Booker's expression said that answer should be evident. "He's going to help me."

  "Build the mill?"

  "And run it."

  An Injun was gonna help him. The idea of seeing an honest-to-goodness Injun intrigued Lucas. He pretended he didn't care. "What d'you want done while you're gone?"

  Booker stroked his freshly shaven jaw with a thumb. "Why don't you cut some firewood and stack it next to the lean-to. Not much to do until I bring back supplies. Do you know how to cook?"

  "Some."

  "Yeah, me, too." He shrugged. "I'll be back before dark."

  Lucas watched him ride away, the eager stallion kicking up dust clouds. He turned back and regarded the sturdy sod house with new eyes. "Well, what d'you know?" he said out loud.

  A pretty good place to stay. Food, plus ten dollars a week. And a real live Injun. He'd stay to see that for sure. If Hayes didn't bring the law back with him, he'd see how it went. And if anybody so much as laid a finger on him, he'd be gone.

  * * *

  Thea placed the last stitch in the cloth doll, broke the thread with her teeth and stuck the needle in her basket beneath the rocking chair. "Look, Zoe."

  From her position at Thea's feet, Zoe scrambled to her knees.

  Thea showed her the finished doll and the tiny dress made from a scrap of the same pastel blue checks Zoe herself wore. Zoe's six-year-old fingers stumbled over the fastenings, and Thea helped. Zoe turned the doll back to face her and traced the delicately embroidered eyes and mouth with a finger. She raised her cherubic face and smiled at Thea.

  "You're welcome." Thea ran her palm over the child's silken hair and kissed her forehead.

  "I think she likes it," her father said from his chair near the unused fireplace. "It looks like a doll you had when you were a little girl."

  "You know I was never a 'little' girl, Papa," Thea said with a twist of irony in her usually teasing tone.

  From another room, they could hear Trudy's high-pitched, slightly off-key voice, singing as she and Madeline continued their nightly work on The Dress. Lexie lounged on the sofa with a book.

  Her father grinned. "You'll always be my little girl."

  "Yep." Zoe slipped back to her spot on the floor, and Thea reached for the sewing basket. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me." She grinned. "It’s a good thing I'm useful."

  From the dooryard, one of the dogs barked. Minutes later, steps sounded on the front porch. Her father stood at the same time the sharp knock sounded on the door. He stepped over to open it.

  "Mr. Coulson." The deep baritone sent a shiver down Thea's spine. A dark hand thrust from the night waited for her father. "Booker Hayes, sir, I need to talk to you."

  Jim shook the hand and stepped back. "Come in, Mr. Hayes."

  His dark presence filled the doorway, black pants and hat blending with the pitch black behind him. A stark white shirt enhanced the width of his chest and shoulders.

  Zoe's hand gripped Thea's calf.

  "You've already met Thea."

  Mr. Hayes doffed his hat. "Ma'am."

  "Mr. Hayes."

  "My daughter, Alexis."

  He raised a curious black brow, his gaze scooting between Thea and Lexie. "Miss."

  Lexie nodded and excused herself to her room.

  "Sit." Jim Coulson returned to his chair.

  Thea's heart pounded as though her father had just invited the devil himself into their home, rather than this perfectly polite man who seated himself in a chair and hung his hat on his knee. Trembling inside, Thea remembered her manners and stood. "I'm sorry. Let me take your hat."

  He handed it to her, but his concentration centered on Zoe who clung to Thea's skirt when she crossed the room. Keeping the child under observation, his features changed subtly, with an almost imperceptible softening around his mouth and a flicker of pain behind his eyes—there one instant, gone the next.

  "What's on your mind, Mr. Hayes?"

  The man's attention drew back to his business. "I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Booker. We're going to be neighbors."

  "The Hazel Creek section, I hear."

  He nodded his dark head.

  Thea twisted the hat brim in her hand unthinkingly. Why had he come back? She'd told him he couldn't take Zoe without the Home's orders.

  "Fine piece o' land," her father said with regret. "Had my eye on it myself."

  "It’s the best site I found when the rails were going through."

  "You a surveyor, maybe? Railroad man?"

  "No, sir, I—"

  "I'll call you Booker if you call me Jim."

  "All right, Jim. I was in the army. My regiment guarded the surveyors and later the rail crews."

  "Met a few Indians, did you?"

  "A few."

  Thea wanted to scream at their polite exchange. She wanted to throw his stinking hat in his face and send him back wherever he'd come from. As if he knew her thoughts, he turned and caught her mangling his Stetson. She hung it on a hook near the door and met his foreboding gaze.

  She resented his unyielding expression. She wanted to see it crack. "I'll bring some coffee."

  She took Zoe in to Trudy and Madeline and poured two steaming cups.

  Mr. Hayes accepted the mug, carefully avoiding her fingers. His eyes met hers, though, and a dark undercurrent passed between them. "I wired Mrs. Jennings."

  Apprehension tightened her scalp and stiffened her spine. You knew he'd be back, Thea. Get used to the idea.

  "Should I know her?" Thea's father asked.

  "She's the director of the orphanage," Thea supplied softly, and took a seat on the sofa nearer her father. Just say it, Hayes. Just rip my heart out, and get it over with.

  Jim acknowledged the information with a nod.

  "She contacted Mrs. Vaughn in Lincoln," the raven-haired man continued. "Day after tomorrow, Mrs. Vaughn will pick up the papers, meet me, and we'll come for Zoe."

  He might as well have pounced, boots first, smack in the middle of her chest. There. Done. Funny, she didn't feel like her heart would stop. She didn't even feel like crying. She only felt like telling him to go to blazes, and with a joyless smile, imagined her father's horror if she did.

 
"You're family?" Jim asked.

  "Zoe is my sister's child," Hayes said, nodding. "After I was discharged, I went to visit. I hadn't seen her for five years." His hesitation was almost imperceptible. "She and her husband died in New York last winter. I wasn't aware of their deaths, or of the fact that Zoe was taken to that place from the hospital."

  Finally, he had her complete attention. She'd wondered so often. "Did you see it?" Thea whispered.

  His mouth tightened. "The Home?"

  She nodded, trepidation sucking breath from her lungs.

  His fingers tightened on the cup. "I saw it."

  She leaned forward. "And?"

  "It’s clean. Mrs. Jennings is an efficient woman who does the best she can for the children."

  What he didn't say spoke to Thea in a voice louder than his careful words. She didn't want to know any more.

  He turned back to her father. "I made arrangements months ago when I first knew I'd be quitting the army. I contacted Ezra Hill and wired money ahead for building supplies. Arrangements have been made for the crews. Today I bought a wagon, horses, food. Everything's ready and waiting. Mr. Hill starts tomorrow."

  How could he afford all that? Hands cold as ice, Thea laced her fingers. "Will you take her to that sod house, then?"

  "It's not a bad place. The roof didn't let a drop of rain through last night. The inside is clean. The house will be finished in a few weeks."

  Who will be her mother? Have you thought of that? Did you consider Zoe's feelings in all your carefully structured plans?

  "You know, we've used that creek to water our east herd for as long as I can remember," Jim said with an odd tinge to his voice. "I'll have to dig a new well."

  "Feel free to use the creek until the well's done," Mr. Hayes offered. "As long as you like, for that matter. I’m not here to cut into your livelihood."

  "What about your cattle?" her father asked in surprise.

  "I'm going to breed a few horses," he replied. "And plant trees. But I'm not going to farm. I'm building a mill."

  "There's a mill in Florence. Not enough timber around here yet to call for another one."

  "A grain mill. Not steam-powered. Like you said, there's not enough wood."

  Jim Coulson nodded.

  "The steam-powered grist and sawmills in these parts will be converting to water power before long," Hayes continued. "More horsepower, faster production time. I'll be one step ahead." That information hung in the air for a few jarring seconds.

  A grin spread across her father's face. "Well, I’ll be! That's a smart move, boy. Why in tarnation didn't I think of it?" He slapped his leg. "Wheat fields as far as the eye can see. The railroad right there. Your business will flourish."

  "That's the way I see it."

  "Anybody can build a mill," Jim added. "You'll need a millwright to make it work."

  "Man by the name of Gunderson came by earlier this spring to confirm the site I picked. He's working over in Nebraska City right now. Has a job in Jefferson County and should arrive here about the time I have my house done."

  "Why here?"

  "I scouted waterways all along the railroad. Hazel Creek is a constant water source. The banks are high and sound, and it has a rock bottom. Add to that the local demand, and I have a perfect spot."

  Jim picked up his pipe from a side table and tamped tobacco into the bowl. He clamped it between his teeth and struck a match, one thick gray brow rising inquisitively.

  "You an' this Gunderson fella gonna use an overshot wheel?"

  "No, sir. Wooden wheels take constant maintenance. They freeze up in winter. I've ordered a Leffel turbine. It's a horizontal iron wheel completely submerged."

  "Build a dam? Do you have water rights?"

  Listening to their camaraderie blossom, helplessness and frustration swiftly glided into anger. Thea stood in an indignant rustle of skirts. "I don't believe this," she huffed in irritation. "You're discussing wheat and dams while there's a child's welfare at stake."

  "Thea-girl," her father said. "Mr. Hayes is our neighbor."

  "Don't 'Thea-girl' me," she said, knowing she'd regret the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. "He came here to take Zoe away, and you're carrying on with him like he's an old friend! Here, use my creek.' 'Well, gee thanks, I'll bring your mill my business.'" Heart hammering, she turned away.

  "Thea!" her father said in the sternest tone he'd ever used with her. "Mr. Hayes didn't have to come tonight. It was kind of him to give you time to prepare. To get Zoe used to the idea."

  Kind? Something in her chest stretched tight, pushing an unbearable ache into her throat. Her chin quivered uncontrollably, pulling her lower lip down. Thea caught it between her teeth. Kind would be putting a bullet between her eyes right about now.

  "Thea," her father said.

  She bit her lip, garnered her self-control and turned back. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hayes. It was 'kind' of you to come tonight. I'll have her ready when you return."

  Her sarcasm pierced Booker. Tension crackled between them, and he had the impression she was a volcano ready to explode. He watched her compose herself and perch stiffly on the sofa. Her softly curling strawberry blond hair and porcelain complexion combined with her shimmering blue-green eyes and vulnerable mouth to convey an indelible impression of delicacy. Her gaze slid to his boots. He felt like the villain in a dime novel. What he was doing hurt her. He couldn't help that. Uncomfortable, he turned back to Jim Coulson.

  "I'm sorry," Jim said. "She's not behaving like herself. It's just that she's grown so fond of the child. I was afraid of this."

  "It's all right. I can see that your wife cares for Zoe. I wish it didn't have to be this way. It's unfortunate that—"

  "My wife! Ye gods, man, you think an old coot like me'd have a wife her age?" Jim half snorted, half laughed. "Thea's my daughter!"

  Thea stared at her lap.

  With that revelation, Booker recognized the resemblance between them. Why hadn't she corrected him the day before when he'd addressed her? She wasn't Coulson's wife? Booker wondered at the immediate sensation of relief that burst within his chest. What did he care?

  Coulson called his wife from another room and introduced a tiny dark-haired woman of his own age. "This is my wife, Trudy." Coulson still grinned. "More like it, eh?"

  Booker returned the grin. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am." Her appearance only confounded Booker's thoughts. Thea looked nothing like this woman or the young girl Coulson had introduced as his daughter.

  The flighty little woman smiled and tittered. "Would you care for a cup of tea, Mr. Hayes?"

  "I have coffee, thanks."

  "Where are you living?" she asked.

  Booker explained the situation once again.

  She clapped her small hands in delight. "How wonderful! New neighbors are a grand social event around here, you know."

  He nodded as if he indeed knew.

  "Of course, we must have a housewarming when your home is finished. But I'm sure Thea's already thought of that. Thea organizes everything in these parts, don't you, dear? She'll have a lovely party cooked up before you know it."

  Thea shot the woman a look that could have curdled milk.

  "That's thoughtful of you, Mrs. Coulson, but it's not necessary." Booker took a sip from his mug.

  "Don't give it another thought. It’s settled. Do you have a wife, Mr. Hayes?"

  He nearly choked on a swallow of hot coffee. He pulled the mug away with a jerk and wiped his lip with a knuckle. "No, ma'am."

  "Someone special?"

  Jim Coulson rebuked her gently. "Trudy, give the man some air."

  She folded her hands in her lap, innocently.

  Someone special? Involuntarily, his gaze slid to Thea. He studied the top of her head, the appealing curve of her neck, the slender twist of hair that lay against her skin. He'd never given the wife idea much thought. Booker cleared his throat. “There was no place for a wife in my line of work."

  "Well, now you're
settling down. You might even meet someone at the housewarming." Trudy smiled as though immensely pleased with herself.

  Thea raised her head and met his gaze levelly. He expected bitterness or condemnation, but the look in her blue-green eyes caught him unexpectedly. Disappointment and a hint of irritation, yes, but resignation had smoothed away the anger.

  Something deep inside him awakened.

  "You'll need help preparing rooms, Mr. Hayes,” Thea said. “I'm an adequate housekeeper. I'd be pleased to see that the house is ready for Zoe."

  Booker studied her sincere expression.

  Jim Coulson nodded approvingly.

  Something had happened here, Booker realized. Something that bothered him more than he understood. Resentment was normal. Anger was normal. Denying those emotions wasn't.

  Beautiful, gentle Thea Coulson had a firestorm raging on the inside. He'd seen it as clear as day only minutes ago, and now it was gone. With that realization came a disturbing inclination to discover how deep those emotions were buried—and just what it took to unleash them. It would take a better man than he. Even if he was up to the challenge, it couldn't be him. He found himself offering her an apologetic smile.

  He would be the one to hurt her by taking the child they both wanted away from her.

  bookmark:Chapter 4

  Chapter 4

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  Midmorning two days later, a wagon pulled into the dooryard. Thea turned to MaryRuth. Her sister had appeared shortly after breakfast, claiming she needed help with a dress pattern. Thea had seen through her excuse and welcomed the emotional support and the company. MaryRuth raised her head from the fabric she'd been cutting on the kitchen table and stared back. Together, they moved to the window.

  Mr. Hayes lifted Mrs. Vaughn from the wagon and set her on the ground as though she were a doll. The dark-haired woman adjusted her fashionable hat and led Hayes toward the house. Heart pounding, Thea pulled back. MaryRuth gripped her hand.

  "I'm all right." Thea squeezed her sister's fingers, took a deep breath and observed herself in the mirror just inside the pantry. She recognized the despair in her reflection, drew a thin disguise over it and ran a nervous hand over the skirt of her somber dark blue dress. Even in the shadowy storage room, her lack of sleep was obvious. Slowly, distractedly, Thea fingered the dark circle under one eye.