Lily shook her head. "A little caution would have served him well." She turned to Thomas and Helena. "I'll be back in a little while."

She hurried toward the sheriff's office, not expecting him to be there, so she was surprised when she entered the building and he turned from pouring a cup of coffee from an enamelware pot on the stove. "Miss Lily. Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thanks. There's a fool miner who came riding into the Shady Lady announcing to one and all that he's hit a vein. I have a suspicion his gold and maybe even his person are in danger now. Suppose you could lock him up until morning, when he can get to the assayer's?"

The sheriff set his cup on the top of his desk and grabbed his hat from a hook beside the door. "Sounds like a wise idea."

He accompanied Lily back to her dance hall, where people still milled in the street.

Lily discovered a few customers had gone back inside and Old Jess and Saul had set the table to rights. The card players were squabbling over who had had which cards and how many coins each had had in their stacks.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Amos Douglas returning from the hallway that led to the back. The adjoining door to the house next door and the back door of the house were always locked, so she knew he'd been unable to get into the house to find his wife. But he'd undoubtedly tried.

He had the perfectly believable excuse of using the outhouse, and she would only look suspicious if she questioned his whereabouts.

Half an hour later, as the evening returned to normal, Lily found an opportunity to slip next door and check on Catherine. The woman was sitting on an overstuffed chair in Lily's sitting room, an unopened book lying on her lap.

"Amos was downstairs until a few minutes ago," Lily told her.

Catherine pursed her lips before sighing and speaking. "I must go back to my family."

Lily didn't argue with her. She took a seat on the ottoman.

"I can't stay here," Catherine explained. "I'm thankful for your help, Lily, but I can't stay any longer."

"Where does he think you go?"

Catherine shook her head. "We never speak of it, and he doesn't insist I tell him. He usually behaves as though nothing has happened."

"Not even an apology?"

She shook her head.

"I insist you wait until morning, when he's gone to the bank. Tonight he's had several beers, and I wouldn't feel safe letting you go."

"All right," the other woman agreed. "What was the commotion I heard earlier?"

Lily explained about the miner who'd ridden his horse into her saloon. "Tomorrow there will be prospectors coming out of the hills, claims being filed and grub-staking going on. There's always a big rush when someone hits a vein, no matter how small. Everybody thinks they're gonna be the next to get rich."

"Meanwhile few actually find gold, but you get rich selling whiskey and dances," Catherine commented.

Lily laughed at Catherine's accurate account.

Tomorrow she would place an order for more whiskey and fresh kegs of beer. Maybe she'd buy all her girls new dresses and shoes while she was at it. Nothing like a fresh influx of miners to keep things lively.

NATE NEVER HAD A MORNING he didn't have to go to the jail house or a night he didn't have to make rounds of the businesses. But most of Sunday was his to do as he liked. He hadn't cared much while he'd been staying at the boarding house, because he didn't fit in with the other boarders, but now that he'd bought a house, he valued the free time.

The house had been in excellent condition, with three fireplaces, four bedrooms and a large kitchen and pantry.

He'd been browsing in Wesley Clark's hardware store one afternoon when the man had offered him a bed and chest of drawers for next to nothing. Nate had purchased a few additional pieces of furniture from a fellow who lived on the fringe of town and made tables and chairs.

He had more than he'd owned for years, but the house was still large and hollow. He'd had lumber delivered and spent his morning building shelves in the pantry and more for storage in his bedroom. When the tasks were finished, he looked at the work he'd completed and his mind took him back to another time, another house-a small one with comfortable furniture and handmade rugs and checkered curtains.

He hadn't always played a lone hand. Hadn't always lived on the trail, hunting men. There'd been a time when he'd had a home and a family. He didn't let himself think on those times. He'd had his revenge. He'd left the past behind. But there were times-like now-when the present was such a hollow reflection of the past that he couldn't help but make comparisons.

This house wouldn't always be empty. He'd looked through the catalogs at the mercantile and ordered lamps and kitchen items, but they wouldn't arrive for another week or two. How much difference a few more material things would make he didn't know. A home was more than furniture and dishes, and that fact kept eating at him.

He'd been invited to a birthday party for Constance Thorndike at the Temperance Hall that afternoon, so he cleaned up his mess early and heated water to wash and shave. His house had a bathing chamber near the kitchen. Heating water to fill the tub took too long and it was a hot day, so he used only one kettle of boiling water and enjoyed a refreshingly cool bath.

He couldn't help thinking of Lily swimming in the stream on hot nights, and he remembered his own visit to the secluded spot.

The disturbing woman came to mind often, and it was an effort to push those sensual thoughts away. The more time he spent in his big empty house, the more he had thoughts of bringing someone here to live with him. It was time he put the past behind him for good and started to enjoy the years ahead. He was young enough to have a wife. Perhaps a couple of children. There had to be more to his existence than just enduring.

It was time to think about change. Time to look around.

Nate had purchased a stack of new shirts at the mercantile and then taken them to the laundry to be pressed. He put on a blue one now and tucked the tails into his black trousers.

He'd polished his boots and brushed his hat the night before, so he looked as shiny as a new penny when he stepped off his front porch and made his way to the Temperance Hall.

The building wasn't much more than a big empty room, set with tables at one end and chairs along the walls. Wade Reed had told him that the Women's Temperance Prayer League had purchased the land to build their own hall as an alternative to the saloons.

One corner held a raised wooden platform and an organ. Reverend Bacon's wife was warming up by playing something Nate didn't recognize. As more people arrived, a fiddle player and a man with a harmonica joined her.

The Gibbs family arrived, and the mayor greeted Nate with a handshake. Even the mayor's male assistant was there, accompanied by a tall, toothy young woman.

Nate tasted the bland punch, knowing beforehand it wouldn't contain alcohol. This was the Temperance Hall, after all.

"Hello, Sheriff Harding."

"Afternoon, miss," he greeted Evangeline Gibbs.

She was as pretty as a ripe peach in a pale silk dress with acres of ruffles around the hem and more at her shoulders. Her dark-blond hair was gathered on her head and adorned with pearls and what looked like a brooch. Delicate pearl earbobs dangled from her lobes.

Nate immediately thought of Lily in her ropes of pearls and not much else. It took effort to banish the seductive image.

"Have you tried the punch?" he asked.

"Not yet."

Nate filled a cup for her and she thanked him.

"It's refreshing on a warm afternoon," she said.

"At least the nights are cool here," he observed. "Some places I've been, the nights are as blistering as the days."

"That would be most uncomfortable. Have you been to Texas?"

"I have."

"Oklahoma? Nevada?" At his repeated nods, her eyes widened. "What were you doing in all those places?"

"Hunting men," he told her honestly.

"Did you catch many outlaws?"

"A good number."

"What about Indians? Have you fought them?"

"Made friends with those I could, rode clear of the unfriendlies," he replied.

"Are they fierce and frightening, the unfriendly ones?"

"You might say that."

"I confess I've read a number of dime novels. Such adventures are told. Do the Indians really cut off people's scalps?"

"And carry them on their spears or their belts," he answered. "Most of the tribes have been forced to the reservations now, though."

"Thank goodness for that."

He wasn't going to get into a conversation with this sheltered female about the indignities the tribes had suffered or who the land originally belonged to, so he held his tongue.

With a rustle of stiff fabric, Beatrice swooped upon them in another of her blue satin dresses. "I shall hold your cups while the two of you dance," she announced. "Go on with you. Enjoy the party."

Nate handed over his cup of punch and led Evangeline to the area where several other couples were dancing in time to the organ music. Her cheeks were flushed when she curtsied and extended her hand.

"I'm not much of a dancer," he told her.

"I haven't danced with many gentlemen," she admitted. "In school the girls danced together and pretended."

"Well, then pretend most men are as bad as I am."

Her silver laugh was a surprise he enjoyed hearing.

Evangeline was as inexperienced as he was awkward, which made him feel less so. After a few minutes they managed a fairly fluid two-step, and Nate took care not to tromp on her toes.

Two more musicians with banjos and fiddles joined the group as ranch families arrived, and the music turned more lively. Nate partnered Evangeline for two square dances before Meriel Reed introduced him to her cousin, Lucinda, and Nate danced an obligatory reel with the dark-haired young woman.

The musicians took a break, and Reverend Bacon sang "Carry Me Back to Old Virginny" while his wife accompanied him on the organ. The crowd applauded, then the reverend took a good-natured bow and he and his wife made their way to the punch table.

Evangeline stood talking with her friends. Occasionally, one of them glanced his way, making him suspect he was the subject of their clandestine chatter.

The gaggle of women seemed so young and innocent. He was sure he was an oddity in their midst-a hardened bounty hunter who'd lived on wits and endurance most of his life, while they'd been learning to serve tea and tarts and do needlework. He observed them with interest, returning the curious stares. Their naivete appealed to his desire to leave his old life behind.

Thoughts that had been simmering in the back of his mind for weeks and months were now rising to the surface for consideration. He wanted a fresh start. He wanted more. He wanted to feel like a real person.

Evangeline's gaze met his across the space that separated them, and Nate liked the way she made him feel. Hopeful.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

NATE TESTED A SMILE on the gathering of females, and most of them reacted with blushes. He couldn't remember a time he'd been the center of attention without a loaded .45 in his grip. It felt strangely revitalizing.

"You're quite the popular fellow," Reverend Bacon commented from beside him. "A man like you is a rarity in Thunder Canyon."

Nate glanced around. "I see a few unmarried ranchers."

"Ah, but it's not only your unmarried status that intrigues the young ladies. Those others don't possess your air of mystery and romance, because they're not the exception."

Nate shrugged off that notion. "Nothin' mysterious or romantic about me."

"Obviously, the females think differently." The reverend sipped from his cup of punch. "I'd like to extend a welcome for you to come to Sunday services, Sheriff. I haven't seen your face in the congregation as yet."

"I've never been much of a churchgoer, Reverend. No offense."

"None taken. But God is concerned about your spiritual well-being, and He welcomes all into His house."

"If God reined in some of His more enthusiastic supporters, we'd all get along a little better," Nate replied.

"I assume you're referring to the Women's Temperance Prayer League? They are exuberant, aren't they? We're admonished not to be lukewarm, and those ladies are not lukewarm."

"Seems there's something about not being judgmental, too, but I'm not as familiar with the principles of faith as you, so I might have it wrong."

"You don't have it wrong, Sheriff. Temperance means restraint and self-control. However, some of the more passionate campaigners don't always apply that to themselves."

"Miss Lily calls them the Intolerants," Nate mentioned offhandedly. Seemed he was thinking about the woman half the time, and now he was bringing her up in party conversation. To the town preacher!

"I regret to hear that. I'm sure she feels threatened."

Nate thought any threats she felt were justified, but he kept a lock on his tongue this time.

"Because of her strong independent nature, Lily is greatly misunderstood," Reverend Bacon said. "If people knew her better, they would know what a kind and generous heart she possesses and wouldn't think the worst of her."

Surprised, Nate eyed the reverend. "And you know her well enough to say this as a fact?"

"It's my job to love and care for all of God's children. Some are easier to love than others, of course. When it comes right down to it, Lily and I are very similar. It's natural for us to share a bond."

What could the town preacher and the owner of a dance hall have in common? They dispensed spirits of completely different sorts.

"You're looking at me as though I've spoken heresy," the reverend said with a chuckle.

"I reckon I'm just surprised."