June 1891, Mac’s Crossing, Colorado

“If you’re not going to help, you need to move.” Corbin MacAllister pushed past his brother and worked his way around stacks of papers to get to the counter.

“Hello, Mrs. Griggs, what can I do for you?” He plastered a smile on his handsome face even though he wanted to reach out and throttle someone.

“I need to send a telegram, right now, Corbin. It must be back east by tomorrow afternoon.”

Corbin sighed. Everyone was in a hurry. He pushed a pencil and paper toward her. “Write it down and I’ll see that it gets done later tonight.”

“No, Corbin, I want it done right now. I want to be assured that my brother will receive it by tomorrow.”

“Mrs. Griggs, I’m afraid that I can’t stop what I’m doing at this moment. I have to get these newspapers ready to be on the stage in less than half an hour. I promise you that your telegram will be sent out this afternoon, in plenty of time to be delivered tomorrow morning. It just won’t go out at this very moment.”

“I’m sorry, Corbin, but that’s not good enough. You must do this for me this instant!”

Corbin stepped back from the counter and put his hands on his hips.

“Mrs. Griggs, I would love to accommodate you, but unfortunately, I can’t. I can promise that your telegram will be sent this afternoon.”

“Mr. MacAllister, I simply must…”

“And I simply must get back to setting type. The Gazette goes out today, and if I don’t hurry, it will never make the stage to Denver and I will lose advertisers. As you have probably realized, Mrs. Seavers is no longer with me. She and her husband left town on Monday. So, I am working alone. Mrs. Griggs, I beg of you, be reasonable. All this arguing is doing is wasting both our times.”

Mrs. Griggs gave a delicate sniff of disgust, but Corbin was happy to watch her fill out the form. She passed it back to him and opened her reticule.

“No charge for you, Mrs. Griggs, to make up for your wait.”

“I should hope so. Good day.” She turned and flounced out of the store and Corbin fought the urge to stick his tongue out at her. He turned and almost collided with his brother again.

“Josh, what are you doing here? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I was going to offer Sarah’s help, until you can find a clerk to replace Mrs. Seavers.”

“Thank you, but no. People have been trying to push Sarah and I together for quite some time. Neither of us is interested.”

“Maybe not interested romantically, but she’s a good worker.”

“For you. She’s in love with you.”

Corbin ignored Josh’s shocked look and moved to the back of the shop. He put on his printer’s apron and picked up the blocks of type he’d been working with before Mrs. Griggs’ interruption.

“In love with me? I think you’re wrong,” Josh said. “You took her to the boxed lunch at the church last month.”

“You’re right, I did. And all she could talk about was you. Josh did this, and Josh did that. Josh is so good at this, and Josh is so good at that.”

Corbin put the last few blocks of type into line and slammed the frame home, wincing at the idea that he might have damaged one of the delicate, and expensive, pieces of wood. He examined them and sighed with relief.

Then, he put the plate into the machine and cranked it up. The Gazette had to be on today’s stage, or he’d lose advertisers. And he couldn’t afford to lose advertisers.

“Now that the machine’s working, can we talk?”

Corbin laughed and turned to his brother. “Sorry. Is something wrong?”

“No. I wanted to check on you, but Sarah? Why didn’t you tell me that all she did was talk about me?”

“Because, Josh, you work with her every day. You should be able to figure that one out on your own.”

Corbin walked to the counter and picked up Mrs. Griggs’ telegram. He read it, then walked to the telegraph machine to type in the message and its destination code.

“So, what happened to Jessica Seavers and her husband, anyway?”

“If you’re to believe Jake Bradford, Seavers stole the silver from the Bradford House, and then the couple took off. They left in the middle of the night Friday. I got to work Monday and poof, no office assistant.”

“Did she take anything from you?” Josh raised his voice so he could be heard over the whirr of the machines.

“No. She was a great employee, but I know that her husband was scum, so it wouldn’t surprise me if Jake is right.”

Corbin stopped in the middle of the shop and looked around. He let out a satisfied breath of air.

“Caught up. For now.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder and moved to his desk. “So, on the subject of Sarah. What’s stopping you?”

“You,” Josh said. “Everybody always said she wanted you.”

“I can assure you, they’re wrong. Go over there right now and plant a big wet kiss on her pretty lips. See if she doesn’t wrap her arms around your neck.”

“Actually, she’s going back east with her mother on Thursday. She’ll be gone a few months.”

“Well, that stinks. Kiss her before she goes. Give her something to think about so she doesn’t take a shine to one of those eastern boys while she’s gone.”

“I just might do that,” Josh said. “But what are we going to do about getting you an assistant?”

“You let me worry about that,” Corbin said. “You go and worry about your own affairs. You’re getting old. You need to marry and settle down.”

“Thirty’s not that old,” Josh said.

“Do you see that many eligible women in Mac’s Crossing? I’ll probably have to go to Denver to find a wife. But you, you have pretty little Sarah sitting over there. Don’t let her slip through your fingers.”

Both brothers turned their heads toward the street as the stagecoach rolled into town.

“Right on time,” Corbin said. “Damn it. The papers won’t even be dry yet. Go to the store. Offer Henry something to eat. Ask him to stick around for a few extra minutes. About thirty of them. That will help me.”

“I’m on my way, brother.” Josh ran out the door and Corbin shook his head.

Corbin wandered back to the press. If they could talk Henry, the driver, into staying for half an hour, the ink would be dry on the newspapers and not get smeared during their transfer to the stage for the bumpy ride to Denver.

He had several stores that placed advertisements in the paper, and he wanted to make sure the owners stayed happy, and kept spending money with him. Running a newspaper office, and the telegram service, wasn’t exactly an extremely lucrative business. He made money, yes, but not enough to get sloppy, and put out late papers.

He was going to have to find someone to replace Jessica Seavers, and that might be tough.

Finding suitable employees in Mac’s Crossing wasn’t a walk in the park. He had to find a married woman. If he had a single woman working for him the old biddies in town, like Mrs. Griggs, would wag their tongues all day long about what was going on inside the newspaper office.

He didn’t want that. He wanted someone who could work, and not be distracted, by gossip. Perhaps Hank Sands would allow his wife to work, even for a few afternoons. All he really needed was someone to watch the front counter while he was doing newspaper work back in the shop.

Setting type was a tricky business, and it required attention. It was hard to keep your mind on what you were doing when you were constantly stopping to take orders for sending telegrams, or receiving them and transcribing messages, then hiring young men to deliver them to the proper houses.

If Hank couldn’t be persuaded, maybe he could talk Charlie Spring into it. His wife was older, and their last child had just left to find a job in Denver. Maybe she was bored and needed something to do with her afternoons.

Feeling just a tad bit better that he might be able to find someone rather quickly, he tidied up the office, then went back to check on the press run. It was almost over. He needed another ten minutes before he could deliver his papers to Hank.

He hoped that Josh had offered him something good to eat, and that would keep his attention for a while. Just in case, he went outside and hunted down one of the town’s teen-agers, who hung around in hopes that a store owner would hire them to run a small errand, and earn them some money.

He spotted Tom Brown standing near the street.

“Tom.” He snapped his fingers and the youth came running. Corbin pushed a nickel into his hand.

“Go over to my brother’s store and make sure that he’s keeping Henry busy. Tell Josh, and only Josh, that I need ten, no make that fifteen, more minutes. Got that?”

“Yes sir, Mr. MacAllister. No problem.” Tom pocketed his money and ran toward Josh’s store.

“That’ll work,” Corbin said with a smile as he walked back into the shop. “One more week’s newspapers done, and soon to be delivered. After the stage is gone, I’m going to treat myself to dinner at Miss O’Brien’s.”

He shook his head when he realized that he was talking to himself. Then walked back just as the machine ground to a halt.

Yup, right on time. It had taken a great deal of money to buy a press with an electrical motor, but it had been worth it. The machine worked perfectly. It made life easier, and Corbin never regretted the extra money. It made things easier, and was helping things turn out just fine today.

Rubalee Parsons stepped back onto the wooden porch and stared at the stage. She didn’t know if she dared to get back on it, and risk being caught by her father, or worse yet, her fiancé, or if she should stay here in this little town.

Goodness knows her father would never think of looking for her this close to Denver. He would think that she had gone the other way, toward California, anyway. She’d made sure to buy a ticket for the train, and then tear off part of it and leave it in her room as a clue.

Even her thick-headed parent would think that she was on her way to the land of sunshine, not toward the Wild West, where anything could happen. She smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt.

She’d told the driver that she was going on to Texas. He told her that he only drove back and forth to Denver, so she would have to wait here for the next stage. Which was perfect. If anyone did happen to track her down, the driver could say that yes, he’d seen her. He dropped her here and she left the next morning for the open spaces of Texas.

Ruby jumped slightly when the driver’s voice sounded just over her shoulder.

“You okay? Did you hear what I said?”

“No, I didn’t.” She turned to face him.

“I said we put your trunk at Miss O’Brien’s hotel. Just down the block. You can stay there tonight. The stage heading to Texas will leave here bright and early, around seven. If you’re late, Mike don’t wait, so don’t be late.”

“Thank you, Henry.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Monroe. And again, I’m real sorry about your husband.”

“Thank you for your sympathies.” And if you saw the creep my father is trying to force me to marry, you’d really be sorry. The only thing I’m really sorry about is lying to you. You’re a nice man.

She smiled and nodded, then turned to walk toward the hotel that he’d indicated. The town of Mac’s Crossing was bustling, and she smiled as she watched people drift back and forth, enjoying their lives and the things they were doing.

What did she have to enjoy? Nothing. She had money, true, but how long would it last? She’d seen this terrible turn of events coming for more than a year now, so every time her father had given her money for a shopping trip, she’d made sure to put a little bit of it aside.

So she had almost two hundred dollars in her reticule, and almost seven hundred in her trunk. She’d have to find a job, although she wasn’t sure what she was qualified for. Her father was nothing more than a gold miner who’d struck it rich up in the Rockies.

Of course it was gold mining that had set them up in their fancy house in Denver, gotten them invitations to lots of parties, and garnered quite a bit of suitors for Ruby. She hadn’t found one she’d been impressed with. They were nice enough, but not men she’d care to spend the rest of her life with, that was for sure.

And she’d never thought that her father would force her to marry one of them, especially Jonathan Blake. The man was handsome enough, she supposed, but something about him made her skin crawl. She was pretty sure that it was because he let her father do all the work, and sat back and enjoyed the fruits of the other man’s labors.

Now, he wanted to marry Ruby, so that when Peter Parsons died, he would be assured of getting his hands on all his money.

When her father had told her three nights ago that he and Jonathan had struck a bargain for her hand in marriage, she’d been shocked. She knew that at twenty-two she was past the marrying prime, but that was fine with her. The idea of not getting married at all had never bothered her.

When she’d asked her father if he was pressing the marriage because he wanted grandchildren, he’d just shaken his head. Ruby knew that meant that it was Jonathan who was pushing for the union.

She’d waited until this afternoon, when they’d gone up to the mine in Central City, then she’d packed a trunk, and headed for the train station. From there she’d taken transportation to the stagecoach station.

Which brought her here, to Mac’s Crossing. It looked to be a nice enough town, and the idea of staying here didn’t bother her that much. But, she knew that it was too close to Denver. If her father figured out that she wasn’t on the train, he might start searching neighborhood towns and find her.

And she couldn’t risk that. She needed to stay here a night, catch the stage and head off into her future, one without Jonathan Blake. She turned and headed toward the hotel, hoping the proprietress had a nice hot meal waiting for her guests.

“Now, where did you say you were from?”

Ruby squirmed under the watchful eye of Miss O’Brien. She could swear that the woman knew something was up with Ruby’s story.

“Wyoming, a very small town. My husband died recently and I’m going to live with my family down in Texas.”

“Well, I’m sorry for your loss.” The woman straightened her shoulders and pushed a pen at Ruby. “Sign here, please. Now I know a lot of people from Wyoming, including my sister. What was your last name again?”

“Um, well, my husband’s name was Monroe.” Ruby searched for a name that would fit, and not finding one, she decided to use the name of the man her father intended her to be chained to for the rest of her life. “Jonathan Monroe.”

She signed her name to the register and pushed the quill back at Miss O’Brien. “I see. And where abouts in Wyoming are you from?”

“Um, a very small town outside Cheyenne.” Why are you asking all these questions? Just give me the key to my room and let me go up.

Miss O’Brien gave her a questioning glance, and Ruby smiled. “Pittsville.”

“Pittsville? I’ve never heard of it. And it’s near Cheyenne, you say. Strange. My sister lives near Cheyenne and she’s never mentioned it. Maybe you know her. Sally Donley? She lives there with her husband, who’s a rancher.”

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure.”

“Shame. She’s very nice.” Miss O’Brien looked at her hand pointedly, her eyebrows shooting up. “How long have you been a widow?”

She looked up into Ruby’s eyes. Too late, Ruby realized she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, nor did she have a mark from having worn one for a while.

“Just a few months.” She averted her eyes and thought about something sad, like spending the rest of her life with Jonathan Blake. When she looked back at Miss O’Brien, there were tears in her eyes. “My husband and I didn’t have a lot of money. I had to, well, you know, sell some things to make the trip.”

She wrung her hands in a sign of distress, a tear leaking from her eye.

“You poor thing, and here I am, just battering you with questions. I’m so very sorry. Listen, you go upstairs and rest. I’ll send up a tray with some food.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. I need to be out for a bit, after being on the stage all day. If you don’t mind, I’ll just eat in the dining room.”

“Of course. Now, sometimes, some of the single men in town come for dinner, so they get a good home-cooked meal, you know. But they won’t bother you, I’ll see to it myself. I serve dinner around seven.”

“Thank you,” Ruby said, wiping away the tear. “You’re a dear woman.”

“Well, I just want to help. Now, you go and lie down for a while.”

Ruby headed for the stairs. A young man had already taken her luggage upstairs. She needed to find him and give him a little bit of money, something to thank him for his time.

She opened the door to her room and went inside. It was small and cozy. The bed looked comfortable, and she was more than ready to lie down and take a nap.

Part of her felt very bad about lying to Miss O’Brien. But the woman was like a hawk, pounding away at questions, asking things that were none of her business. Another few minutes and she would have gotten Ruby to admit that there was no Pittsville, and no Mr. Monroe.

She sat down on the bed, leaned over and unlaced her shoes. After kicking them off, she fluffed up the pillow and then lay down, scrunching it up under the head. She was asleep in seconds, dreams of Texas floating through her mind.

It was well after seven when Ruby made her way back down stairs. She’d slept for an hour, and then taken off her travel-worn dress and bathed. She could put the dress back on tomorrow, before the stage left, but right now she’d wanted a clean dress.

She’d chosen a beautiful satin blue gown that her father had bought for her long before the Blake fiasco. After she made her way down the stairs she stopped at the entranceway to the dining hall.

Miss O’Brien was talking to someone. And she was talking about Ruby.

“So very sad. She’s so young, and so very pretty, Corbin. To be a widow at that age. I always thought it was sad that the Lord never blessed me with a husband, until I realized that my work was here, helping people like herself.”

“How do you plan on helping her, Miss O’Brien?” The man’s voice was deep, and it sent chills up Ruby’s spine. It was either that or the words that had come out of Miss O’Brien’s mouth.

“Well, she lived in a small town near where my sister lives, and she had to sell her wedding ring to make this trip. I’m going to wire Sally and ask her to send one of her hands to the local pawn man, see if he still has the ring. Poor thing must be lonely enough without her husband, but to lose the only memories of him, too. It’s such a shame.”

“You’re right, it is.” This time when the man spoke it was obvious that he was eating. He’d just swallowed and was taking a sip of some liquid when he spoke.

Ruby stood rooted to the spot. She was going to wire her sister to buy back Ruby’s ring? But Ruby would be gone. Why would she do such a thing?

Then, another more terrifying thought hit her. What if the sister wired back, tonight, and informed Miss O’Brien that Ruby’s story was fake, that there was no Pittsville. If that happened, Miss O’Brien would figure out that she was lying about everything else.

What would she do when that telegram arrived? She’d probably go to the sheriff, tell him that a loose woman was in town and that she needed to be run off.

And what would the sheriff do? Was there a notice somewhere about her being missing? Would her father have contacted the authorities in Denver wanting to know where she was? Of course he would have!

Ruby’s head spun. Her entire plan of escape was unraveling right before her very eyes. Her breath came in shallow gasps and she fought to get it under control. The palms of her hands began to sweat.

She peeked around the corner to see Miss O’Brien sitting across from a very handsome man. Even though he was sitting, Ruby could tell that he was tall. He was dark-haired, and had very broad shoulders, and there was a smile on his face.

The hotel owner was writing words on a sheet of paper. Ruby knew she had to find someway to get that sheet of paper and destroy it before the interfering woman got it to the telegram office.

“Now, Corbin, as soon as dinner’s over I want you to send this for me, all right?”

“No problem. Now, what’s for dessert?” Ruby watched the man put the slip of paper in the pocket of his jacket, which hung from the back of the chair, and she breathed a little easier.

He was obviously one of Miss O’Brien’s single male diners. And he obviously worked for the telegram office. She could follow him to the office, try to distract him and steal the paper.

She shook her head. That wouldn’t work. What she needed to do was write down her own telegram, reportedly to Sally from her sister, saying that things were fine and she just wanted to say hi.

Then, she had to figure out a way to switch the papers. She went to the hotel desk and found a piece of paper. She dipped the quill she’d used earlier to sign the register into some ink and wrote out the words: “Hello. Everything fine here. Just wanted to say hello since it’s been so long. No need to reply. Just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”

She started to sign it Miss O’Brien, then shook her head. She couldn’t sign it that way in a letter to her sister, and she didn’t know the woman’s first name. She had to find out, somehow.

She could ask her, but the older woman seemed prim and proper, and probably frowned on the use of first names. Or, she could look at the sheet the woman had just given the man, Corbin, and see how she signed that one. Then, she could sign it the same way, and switch them.

But how was she going to get her hands on the first sheet of paper? She bit her lip, then smiled. She was going to go and have dinner and she would sit with this telegram man. After dinner, she would suggest a walk, and if he were a gentleman, he wouldn’t let her walk by herself after dark. And if she happened to be cold, then he would wrap his coat around to warm her.

Problem solved.