"As far as everybody in Albuquerque is concerned, your father was killed today. Tyler brought you here right away."

Daisy looked helplessly at Tyler.

"Thanks," Tyler said. "I know this is a terrible imposition at such a time, but I didn't know what else to do."

"You did the right thing," Laurel a.s.sured him. "Are you sure you're not hungry?" she asked Daisy.

"No." Daisy was, but she was too nervous to eat. She doubted she'd be able to sleep a wink.

"Don't you want to sit down now?"

Daisy sat.

"Tyler can bring in your things, and we can think about getting you settled."

"This is all I have," Daisy said. "Everything else was destroyed in the fire."

Laurel looked dismayed. "I see. Well, it won't be easy to replenish your wardrobe. You're built along generous lines."

Daisy managed a weak smile. "I've never heard it put so beautifully. I'm huge. I was relieved when your husband opened the door and I had to look up to him."

"You'll like the Randolphs," Laurel said with a comforting smile. "All seven of them are taller than you. George's son, William Henry, is only twelve, and he's nearly six feet."

Daisy thought of how wonderful it would be to wander among this forest of towering men. She pushed that thought from of her mind. No use teasing herself with the impossible.

"You must be tired," Laurel said, getting to her feet. "I know I am."

It had been a long evening. Over dinner they had worked out the story they planned to present to the public. Now the hot food and fatigue were telling on Daisy. Though she was extremely nervous, she was very tired.

"I think we should retire for the night," Laurel said. She walked over to Hen. He kissed her gently.

"You sure you're going to be all right?" he asked.

That was the first softening Daisy had seen in the man. Clearly he doted on his wife.

"I'll be just fine. I have been fine all along. You and Tyler can talk over what to do about Daisy's future. I'll worry about how to find her some decent clothes."

"You don't have to do that," Daisy protested. "I can wear this dress for a while longer."

"No, you can't," Laurel stated emphatically. "It looks ready to fall apart." She gave Daisy an appraising look. "I think we can find something to fit you. If the skirts aren't long enough, we can st.i.tch on a boarder."

She led Daisy into a comfortable bedroom. "It'll do the men good to share tonight. They won't talk to each other unless you force them."

"Zac talks enough for both of them."

Laurel laughed. "I'm sorry you had to put up with him. He'll be the death of George yet."

With Daisy's help, Laurel quickly changed into her nightgown. "Here, take one of mine," Laurel said with a grin. "It may not be long enough, but it's big enough for two of you." Daisy laughed when she put on the gown. It hardly came down to her calves, but she was too happy to be out of the dress and shift to care. She would have preferred to wear Tyler's nightshirt, but she didn't think Laurel would understand.

Laurel got into bed and propped herself up on several pillows. She patted the bed next to her. "Now tell me what really happened between you and Tyler. Of course, you're in love with him."

Looking at Tyler across the table, Hen regarded him with a jaundiced eye. "Still sticking your nose into what doesn't concern you, I see."

"What was I supposed to do? Leave her there to burn?"

"Of course not, but you have to admit you've got a problem on your hands."

"Look, I'm sorry to move you out of your bedroom, but it never occurred to me Laurel would do anything like that."

"What did you expect her to do? Have the girl sleep with you?"

"I suppose I thought she'd sleep on the couch or something."

"While you and I slept in comfortable beds? You don't know much about women."

"Nothing at all, if the last few days is any example."

Hen cast his brother a quizzical look.

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Your love life interests me only slightly more than Zac's, which is to say not at all."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"How is the prospecting going?" Hen asked as reached for the coffee pot. It was empty. Only the muted drumming of an index finger indicated his irritation.

"Can't do any with all this snow."

"Making any progress?"

"I think so."

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"Yes, I do."

"You're just like Monty."

"How?" Tyler asked, surprised Hen would compare him to his twin.

"Tying to prove something that doesn't need proving."

"It does to me."

Hen sighed. "What happens if you don't find any gold?"

"I'll worry about that bridge when I come to it." He didn't intend to tell anyone he was leaving. He'd just disappear.

"Working for Jeff or Madison won't solve anything, will it?"

"No."

"Then don't do it."

Tyler stared at his brother. "You think I should spend the rest of my life looking for gold?"

"I don't think you ought to spend five minutes looking for it, but if you think you need to make a place for yourself, keep trying until you're satisfied you've done it."

"What would you do?"

"I wouldn't work for Madison, and especially not for Jeff, even if it meant I had to be the sheriff of Sycamore Flats for the rest of my life."

Tyler laughed. A knock sounded at the door. When Hen opened it, a man handed him a tray containing a fresh pot of coffee. Hen poured a cup, laced it generously with cream, and carried it to the bedroom door. Laurel answered his knock. She took the coffee, gave him a kiss, and promptly closed the door on him. Hen returned to his seat and poured himself a cup, which he drank black.

"You could always cook," Hen said. "There must be places in New York that would pay a king's ransom to have somebody like you."

"I don't want to work for anybody. I want to be my own boss."

"Do what you have to do," Hen said, apparently losing interest in the subject. "Now, tell me how you got mixed up with this woman."

"I'm not mixed up with her."

"You brought her here. You spent the last week with her. You're mixed up with her."

"It couldn't be helped."

"This sort of thing never can."

"If you're going to be sarcastic, there's no point talking."

"I'm not being sarcastic. I'm speaking from experience."

"Yeah, you had so much experience before Laurel."

"I had enough."

"I had some, too, and I'm not mixed up with her. I feel sorry for her. She's had a rough time, but she's got a fiance. As soon as they get back from Santa Fe, she's going to stay with his family. I won't be responsible for her after that."

"So what do you want us to do?"

"Take care of her until they get back. It can't be more than a few days, a week at the most. The snow's melting fast."

"And what are you going to be doing?"

"Heading for the hills. I've lost too much time already."

"So you really aren't involved with her?"

"No. She's not interested in impractical dreamers like me. What she said about my hotels made Madison and Jeff's comments sound kind in comparison."

"She seems like a nice girl."

"She is."

Hen finished his coffee and set the cup aside. "What's her fiance like?"

"I don't know."

"Is he taller than she is?"

"No."

"It'll never work."

"He's rich."

"She may have been after his money before, but she's changed her mind."

"How do you know?"

"She came here with you."

"She had no place else to go."

"Every woman has some place else to go. She chose to come here." Hen stood. "I'd better check on the boys. They never sleep when they share the same room. The guests below complain."

Absently Tyler poured himself a cup of coffee. As he sipped the strong, hot liquid, he wondered if Hen could possibly be right. He hoped not.

A fire burned in the grate of Regis Cochrane's luxurious sitting room. His entire suite in the expensive Santa Fe hotel was furnished with bad Louis XV upholstered in wine-colored velvet. He chewed a one-inch cigar stub while he studied a large map which gave the boundaries of every piece of land from the river to the mountains between Bernalillo and Albuquerque. Dressed in a three-piece black wool suit, white shirt, and bow tie, he looked exactly what he was, a very wealthy banker and the richest man in Albuquerque. A less prosperous man sat across from him.

Cochrane impatiently brushed aside an ash that fell on the map. "Are you certain this is the route the railroad will take?" he asked.

"It might swing a mile or two either way but--"

"Where will it cross the river? That's the important thing."

"Somewhere below Albuquerque."

"Are you positive?"