They ate with the restful sound of the stream close by.

"Did you fix all this yourself?"

"Cook helped with the chicken and she had canned the pickles, but I made the slaw and the cake myself. Does the menu suit you?"

"Never had better." Nate had enjoyed every bite of the lunch. Impressive, he thought, finishing his mug of milk. What man wouldn't want a beautiful wife who could cook and bake-and who aimed to please?

He watched her wrap and pack away the plates and utensils, wondering what to say next. With a full belly and an afternoon without his usual daily concerns, he really would have liked a nap right about now.

"That was a fine meal," he said.

"My pleasure."

She took a slim volume from the basket. "I brought a book."

He glanced at it and up at her.

"Shall I read from it?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Sonnets by Elizabeth Barret Browning. Have you read her poetry?"

"Can't say as I have, no."

"They're lovely. I'll start with a few of my favorites."

He nodded.

Evangeline situated herself with her knees to one side and her skirt forming a halo, half on the tablecloth, half on the grass.

"'My own beloved, who hast lifted me from this drear flat of earth where I was thrown,'" she read.

In a sweet voice she read verses that Nate tried to find some order and meaning to in his head.

"'And in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown a life-breath, till the forehead hopefully shines out again, as all the angels see.'"

Thinking about that shiny forehead, Nate moved so that the exposed tree roots weren't under him and leaned back against the trunk of the oak.

She had a pleasant voice. Not shrill or loud. He could listen to a voice like hers without irritation. He looked at her, remembered her presence in his kitchen and on his porch and tried to imagine that as a way of life. Thought about coming home to her of an evening.

"'As one who stands in dewless asphodel...'" She glanced up at him and smiled. Surely she hadn't cursed and then smiled?

He returned the smile. She was pretty, no doubt about it. Pleasant, too. In a young, fresh, life-is-so-new sort of way. She'd gone to a girls' school, learned to dance with other girls, been sheltered from men and life experiences.

Evangeline turned the page and continued to read.

He'd bet Peyton Gibbs had provided all she'd ever needed or wanted and expected a husband to do the same.

"'As a strong tree should rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare...'"

Nothing like Lily. Lily talked about washing clothing for miners and shoveling horse manure out of the streets-she hadn't used that word, though. Lily could turn a phrase like a man. She supported herself and even employed and took care of other people. Lily hadn't been sheltered from life or men. She made her living "experiencing" men.

Lily wasn't the kind of woman a man imagined coming home to. Try as he might, Nate couldn't picture her in his kitchen or on his porch. She was so right in her own surroundings.

He imagined Lily in her own room, the big bedroom with the dark-stained hickory bed and the blue-and-white quilt. He'd seen a lot of Lily. Bare naked in the painting over the bar. Firsthand in the dark by this very stream in garters and a corset.

He couldn't picture Lily reading sonnets, but he had no trouble picturing her beneath him, her wild auburn hair spread across the sheets, the scent of her skin an aphrodisiac. He could easily imagine the pleasure of her body. He already knew the pleasure of her heated kisses.

"Nathaniel?"

He opened his eyes and saw blond hair. Innocent blue eyes. "I'm awake. I was listening."

"I haven't been reading for five minutes."

"I know. I was listening to the stream."

"I like the sound of it, too."

What the hell was he doing thinking about Lily Divine when he had a sweet respectable young woman at his bidding?

"Did you like the sonnets?"

He moved from his position near the tree so he could sit closer to her. "I've never heard anything like them before. Especially the bare trunks and the rustling boughs."

She seemed disconcerted at his nearness and looked at her hands in her lap. "Are you going to kiss me?"

"Would it be all right?"

She nodded. "Yes."

She looked right at him then, expectancy and maybe a little fear in her expression.

Without hesitation, Nate leaned forward and kissed her.

She was young and pretty, and what man in his right mind wouldn't want to kiss her?

She didn't move, didn't even breathe.

He ended the contact and sat back.

"That's it, then?" she asked.

"That's it."

"That's not so bad."

He couldn't help thinking of another kiss. "Thanks."

After that, she seemed more at ease. They walked along the stream bank for a time, but the place held too many memories for Nate, so he led her back to the buggy. He gathered the tablecloth and basket and helped her onto the seat, then headed for home.

After leaving Evangeline at her parents' house, he returned the rig to the livery.

Wade was hanging freshly oiled harnesses on their hooks inside the door.

"Have a nice afternoon?" he asked.

Nate nodded. "How about you?"

"A mite rough, actually. Fixed my own dinner. Prob'ly be fixin' my own supper, too. League's planning a strategy meeting for tomorrow night."

"What strategy do they have left?"

"I dunno." Wade hung the last piece of tack and stood with his shoulders slumped. "I never liked this women's temperance thing from the start. But Meriel came west to marry me, like the other wives did. I figured she needed the company of other women like herself. This is a different life than what she was used to back east. Harsher. Women can get lonely. I didn't want to take that one small comfort from her."

"Innocent enough if they'd stick to makin' quilts, I reckon," Nate replied.

Wade brushed his hands together. "I got some coffee on in the back. Come have a cup with me."

Nate accompanied the stable owner to the rear of the building and accepted a dented tin cup filled with strong brew.

"Make it the way I like it out here," Wade said.

The interior of the building was surprisingly cool, and they sat on nail kegs.

"Must be some reason the women are so all-fired riled about the saloons," Nate commented.

"Jealous, I reckon. Who doesn't like to have a beer and play a hand of cards?"

"Jealous of the drinkin'-or the whores?"

"Both, probably."

Nate only looked at him.

"I ain't visited a whore since I was wet behind the ears," the other man said.

"Does your wife think you have?"

"I told her I never. Those woman're mostly old and either skinny or fat, and them places are too dirty."

Nate had thought the same about Zeke's and Bernie's places. "What about Lily's? It's clean and the women are pretty."

"In the old days Antoinette ran a clean house. But Lily's girls ain't whores," Wade said matter-of-factly, as though Nate should have known that all along.

"Lily denies it often enough. Why do you say so? You know for a fact?"

"I don't know anybody who ever got a poke at Lily's."

"At least nobody ever told you if they did."

Wade shrugged.

"You ever tried?"

He tilted his head. "Years ago. Got turned down flat."

"I'm not convinced."

"You and half the women in town."

At that Nate sat up straight.

"Didn't mean no offense, Sheriff. It's just that those of us who've been around a good many years know Lily. Newcomers think what they want."

"No offense taken," Nate replied. "I guess I'm gonna have to get it straight on my own. Wade, you ever heard of an asphodel?"

"Nope, some kind of machine or somethin'?"

"Don't know." He stood. "Thanks for the coffee. Keep me posted if you smell trouble brewing." He dug into his pocket for a coin. "The buggy was personal, so I'm paying."

Wade took the coin with a grin. "How personal was it?"

Nate cuffed him on the shoulder and left the livery.

MONDAY MORNING, dressed in her dark-blue skirt, a pink striped shirtwaist and a hat with an enormous sweeping pink ostrich feather, Lily headed down Main Street with money from the safe in her handbag.

Blythe Shaw paused in cleaning the inside of the mercantile windows to glare at her as she passed. Lily gave her an unconcerned wave and continued on.

She walked all the way to the west end of town and opened the gate that led to Reverend Bacon's parsonage. The man answered the door in his shirtsleeves, an oddity even on a hot summer day.

"Good morning, Miss Lily." He offered her a warm smile. His spectacles were perched on his forehead. "How nice to see you. Come in. Mrs. Bacon will make us a cup of tea."

"Thank you, Reverend." Lily gestured to the small shaded porch. "Can we sit outside?"

"Certainly. Just let me ask her to bring a tray."

Lily took a seat on a padded wicker chair and rested her handbag in her lap.

The reverend returned and sat across from her. "Thank you for the pheasant you sent over the other day. Saul said he shot half a dozen that morning. It was delicious."

She nodded and they shared light conversation until his wife brought a tray with tea, biscuits and jam.

"You came in time for my midmorning ritual," he said.

Lily sipped tea and helped herself to half a biscuit.

She got right to the point. "I've come to sponsor a team for the community fund-raiser."