Sebastian Cord paced in front of the Independence train depot. Priscilla was due to arrive at two o’clock and he didn’t want that big mouth of hers to get them into any trouble. The town was already in an uproar over the murder of their precious blacksmith. The last thing he needed was for his fiancée to blabber about their recent good fortune. That is, once he found it.

And therein lay his problem. He’d come into a bit of money, not to mention the means to get more, but couldn’t transport it without suspicion. So he did what any other self-respecting crook would do: paid an unsuspecting idiot to haul it for him. Unfortunately, said idiot got himself killed before he’d had a chance to deliver the goods to the appropriate party. Said party, in turn, wasn’t happy at not receiving it, especially since they were to get a percentage for keeping it safe. This put Sebastian in a fix.

Priscilla would grant him some cover, she having lived in Independence for a number of years. Her annual visit was just what they needed. They’d announce their engagement, and while the tongue-waggers of Independence were busy fawning over his fiancée and her wedding, he’d have a chance to find out what happened to the “tool chest” he’d left in Jasper Munson’s care. All Jasper had to do was wait for a simple signal, take the chest out of the boardinghouse, down to the street and give it to Sebastian’s associate. Simple.

Alas, not as simple as Jasper, whose head had been in the clouds over some mail-order bride he had coming, failed to make the delivery the other night, and the next day got killed. Maybe he was so wrapped up mooning over the woman, he forgot? Who marries a woman he’s never met before anyway? And people called Sebastian crazy.

He pulled out his pocket watch, flipped it open and grumbled. His eyes flicked to the spot where Jasper met his untimely demise. He snapped his watch closed, put it back in his pocket and tapped his boot against the platform a few times.

“They say patience is a virtue.”

Sebastian spun around. “Oh … it’s you, Sheriff.”

“Waiting for someone?” Sheriff Diamond asked.

“Sure am. My fiancée’s coming to town for a visit.”

“Visit? If you don’t mind my asking, who’s she visiting? You don’t live here, do you?”

“No, but I could. Nice little town, Independence.” He turned at the sound of the train whistle, hoping the sheriff would move on.

He didn’t. “I know I’ve seen you around town before, but your name escapes me.”

“Name’s Mr. Cord.”

“Oh yes, you’re that barbed-wire salesman Mrs. Bee told me about.”

Sebastian tried to remain calm. What had Mrs. Bee been telling him? “That boarding house woman been gossiping again?”

The sheriff chuckled. “Not at all. She just told me that you snore the walls off the room you’re staying in. It’s right next to hers.”

Sebastian sighed in relief and managed a chuckle of his own. He did snore, frightfully so, since he was a lad. “Well, Sheriff, she wouldn’t be the first to complain. Poor Priscilla – that’s my fiancée – she thinks I’m joking when I tell her how bad it is.”

“That wouldn’t be Priscilla Holbrook, would it?”

“One and the same.”

The sheriff eyed him suspiciously. “Nice family, the Holbrooks. Came to Independence about ten years ago. Priscilla takes care of an aunt in Portland.”

“That’s right.”

“Congratulations on your engagement, then. Looks like she’s gonna find out firsthand about that snoring of yours.” The sheriff grinned, slapped Sebastian on the back and thankfully walked on. In fact, he walked straight to the spot where Jasper Munson was murdered. Sebastian watched him crouch to examine the area as the train pulled in. Hmmm … how had someone gotten away with Munson’s murder?

He shook his head as the train came to a stop amidst a cloud of steam and screeching wheels. Priscilla wasn’t hard to spot – his betrothed always wore the most outlandish hats, most of which she obtained from a woman in Independence named Bernice. Bernice apparently got them from a milliner in some no-account town in Washington – Somewhere, Nowhere, Anywhere? He couldn’t remember the name, but knew it was silly like that.

“There you are, darling!” Priscilla held her arms out as she approached. “What a trip I’ve had!”

Sebastian dipped his head to give her a peck on the cheek, only to have a large purple plume get in the way. He tried to brush it aside.

She batted his hand away with a frown. “Stop that!” she scolded.

“Really, Priscilla, why can’t you wear simple hats like every other woman in town?” He pulled the feathers to one side and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank heavens women don’t wear hats to bed.”

“Sebastian Cord, don’t speak such rot!”

He rolled his eyes and looked for her luggage. “Where are your things?”

“They’ll be along. It takes a few moments – be patient.”

Sebastian glanced at Sheriff Diamond, still staring at the spot where the nasty deed was done, then scanning the platform and the people getting off the train.

“Whatever are you looking at?” Priscilla whined. “You haven’t seen me for weeks!”

He looked at her and smiled. Absence, he supposed, did make the heart grow fonder, even if she was a harpy at times. Of course, he was no peach either. Both were conniving, self-centered and ruthless when they needed to be. They suited each other perfectly. “I missed you too.”

She smiled back, her green eyes sparkling. “I can’t wait to tell Mother and Father about our engagement. Why, they’ll be fit to be tied. The whole town will envy me!”

He noted a porter stacking luggage off to one side. People began to meander that way to gather their things. “I don’t know about the whole town – you’re hardly ever in it. Besides, from what I hear, you and your family are still considered newcomers. You’ve only lived here ten years.”

She laughed. “Sebastian, you are so funny at times. Oh, look – there’s my trunk.”

“Are you sure about this? Us living here, I mean. You won’t miss Portland?”

“And bask in our glorious wealth where nobody knows me?” she replied. “Oh no, my dear Sebastian. I plan on flaunting this as much as I can.”

He put a hand on her shoulder and a finger to his lips. “Will you be careful? They’ll be no flaunting or flouncing until I’ve taken care of a few things, do you understand?”

“You love to take the fun out of everything, don’t you?” she pouted.

“I take the risk out, my dear,” he said, nodding toward the sheriff.

She glanced at the tall man not five yards away, hands on his hips, watching the people come and go from the platform. “Is he looking for somebody?”

“You could say that,” Sebastian commented dryly. “Now let’s get your things.”

“I know what he’s looking for,” she said triumphantly.

Sebastian glared at her even as he took her by the arm and pulled her along beside him. “At this point everyone knows.”

“So what are you doing about it?” she asked quietly.

“Let’s not talk about it here!” he hissed.

“Well, you’re going to have to talk about it sometime!”

He stopped and spun her around to face him. “Not only is that sheriff nosing around,” he said quietly, “but some lawyer, too. So keep your mouth shut.”

“Lawyer? You mean Mr. Vander?”

“One of them.”

“What do you mean, one of them?”

“I mean there are now three Mr. Vanders in town. And two of them are lawyers. The youngest is the one on the case.”

She raised her eyebrow as a smile formed on her lips. “So Fletcher Vander’s back in town?”

“That’s the one. Do you know him?”

“Do I know him? I spent some school days with him. He was a cute thing.”

Envy surged through Sebastian. “If you find a skinny, bespectacled bookworm attractive. I sure don’t.”

Priscilla’s eyes lit up. “Why, Sebastian, you’re jealous!”

“What of it? Stay away from that runt.”

“Fletcher Vander is hardly a runt. I will, of course, have to pay him a visit and catch him up on my good fortune. No reason the jealousy should be one-sided …”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind.” He took her arm and continued them on their way. “Besides, he has a woman with him.”

“A woman? Well, that figures. Did he bring her home with him? He must be here visiting his folks.”

“Word around town is he might be home for good. At least that’s what the woman down at the mercantile told me. You want to know anything, just ask her.”

“Yes, Mrs. Tindle usually knows all the goings-on in this town. They’re sure to be holding meetings for the Fourth of July celebration now. Maybe I’ll go see if I can help.”

“No, you won’t – you’ll keep low and out of trouble, you hear?”

She stopped and eyed him. “Who are you to tell me what to do in my own town? Just because we’re engaged doesn’t mean you can boss me around.”

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “The first thing I’m going to do after we marry is turn you over my knee!”

She smiled wickedly. “Promises, promises. Besides, if the sheriff and Fletcher are trying to find out what happened to your delivery boy,” she continued quietly, “don’t you want me to get Fletcher off the scent for a while? Maybe get him fighting with his woman?”

Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up. The idea had merit. “You’d do that to your childhood pet?”

“Fletcher is no pet of mine, alas. But I can make sure he’s no one else’s. Besides, he won’t stay here long – Independence can’t support two lawyers, and Garrett Vander is far from retirement age. Fletcher will have to leave eventually if he wants to find work.”

“What about the sheriff?” Sebastian asked.

“You distract the sheriff, I’ll distract Fletcher. Between the two of us, that’ll slow them down. Then maybe we can figure out what happened.”

Sebastian nodded. For once his twitter-brained harpy of a fiancée was making sense. Usually the only thing Priscilla concerned herself with was which dress to wear next and which hideous hat went with it. “Agreed. Let’s get to work.”

* * *

Sophie stole little glances at Fletcher throughout the evening meal. His grandmother went on and on about her fabulous decorating skills as if he needed to be sold on them. He didn’t seem to care a whit – but then, why should he? He had enough trouble helping the sheriff look for clues.

Sophie wished she were still looking with them. Though her time at Fletcher’s side was brief, she’d enjoyed it, even with the threat of danger involved. When she was with him she felt safe, as if she didn’t have a worry in the world.

“Maybe you should have young Miss Baxter head up the decorating committee next year,” Grandpa Vander boomed.

That got her attention. “I beg your pardon?”

“Why, Horace dear,” Gran Mercy said, “that’s a splendid idea.”

Sophie shook her head. “Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Vander, I couldn’t …”

“Nonsense, dear, you’d be perfect for the job. Wouldn’t she, Ammy?”

Ammy noted the sudden terror in Sophie’s eyes and played it safe. “Well, I’m sure Miss Baxter would do well in the position, but we don’t know if she’s going to be here next year.”

Mercy glanced between the two younger women. “What? Of course she’s going to be here!”

“Gran,” Fletcher interjected. “There are no guarantees.”

For some reason, his comment stung. Sophie stabbed a small potato with her fork and quickly popped it in her mouth.

Her time with the women at the church had done her a world of good. They were warm, friendly, kind and made her feel welcome. For the first time in a very long time, she felt like she belonged. Truth be told, she more than once fantasized helping out with the summer celebration again, along with the infamous Christmas pageant she’d been told about.

And that’s not all she saw in her mind’s eye. There was a house, a husband – perhaps even the one sitting across the table from her – and a few children. She seemed to recall a dog in there somewhere as well, but the daydream was fading …

“More potatoes?” Fletcher asked.

Sophie stiffened. She’d already wolfed down what was on her plate. Great – was she making a pig of herself? “No, thank you.”

He smiled. “I do like a girl with a healthy appetite.”

His parents, sitting on either side of him, did their best to hide smiles. His grandfather, on the other hand … “Of course you do, my boy! A healthy appetite is something a man should look for in a wife.”

Sophie wanted to bury her face in her hands, but she’d already stuffed her mouth full of pot roast. His grandparents were obviously trying to play matchmaker. Gran Mercy had made more than a few comments earlier that afternoon and she’d enjoyed the daydreams they evoked. But dreams were all they could be. Fletcher didn’t need her help at this point, and had also made it quite clear he didn’t need her either. Or just wasn’t interested.

“Father,” Garrett objected, “stop trying to push them together. You’re embarrassing them.”

“I can handle Grandpa,” Fletcher insisted.

“Suit yourself, but you know how he gets,” Garrett warned.

“What I get is frustrated at the indecisiveness of young people,” Grandpa Vander griped. “When I was your age, Fletcher, and saw your grandmother for the first time, I knew right then and there that I wanted to marry her.”

Sophie perked up at that. She loved a good romantic tale. “Did you really?”

“Oh yes,” Mercy chirped. “Horace was quite a catch too. All the young ladies in town had set their caps for him. Except me, of course – I thought he was too loud and clumsy.”

Grandpa Vander harrumphed. “Got me the job as mayor, and that’s what counts.”

Mercy giggled. “Well I certainly didn’t marry you for your money. And you had no position back then.”

“Then why did you marry him?” Sophie asked with a smile.

“Besides being in love with him? Well, let me see …” She took on a faraway look. “He may have been a clumsy ox, but only because I made him nervous. He was gentle and strong, and I felt so safe with him, protected. Like I could take on the world.”

“A good thing, too,” Grandpa Vander put in. “She wasn’t any bigger than she is now. Tiny little thing – but ready to fight the world nonetheless. It was like courting a fox terrier.”

Everyone at the table laughed. Sophie recovered first. “What else, Mrs. Vander?”

“Attracted me to him? Well, he was also smart. Always thinking. People looked up to him, and not just because he was tall.”

More laughter. Sophie was beginning to feel more at ease. Her eyes locked with Fletcher’s and she risked holding it. He didn’t break contact either, allowing them to gaze at each other across the table, surrounded by his family’s hilarity. She wanted it to go on forever.

But eventually, Fletcher turned to Garrett, making her heart sink again. “Father, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you after supper.”

“Perfect,” Garrett said. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you too.”

“Good – while you men are flapping your gums, we girls will fetch dessert and coffee,” Gran Mercy said.

Sophie set her fork on her plate and folded her hands in her lap. She wanted to gaze into Fletcher’s mesmerizing eyes again, but didn’t dare – her attraction to him might become obvious. It was bad enough his grandparents were trying to match them up without her heart wanting to play along.

He always looked away as if trying to avoid her, distance himself. Escape. She’d had to swallow large portions of disappointment all her life and didn’t think she could stomach any more. She’d grown fat with pain until its bitter taste overwhelmed anything sweet, like the afternoon she’d spent with the ladies planning committee, or her lunch with Fletcher and their time together that morning.

Time. Sophie put a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Thankfully no one seemed to notice. She should’ve spent her time that afternoon asking about employment, but she’d been too busy enjoying herself. She’d best pull herself together and quick – she had to either find a job and stay in Independence, or find some money and move on. Of course, without a job she could do neither. And the sheriff had made it clear she was not to leave town. Maybe she ought to speak with him and find out if it was all right at this point.

She certainly hoped so. Because somewhere between finishing her potatoes and listening to Gran Mercy speak of her courtship with her husband, she realized she was starting to fall in love.