The sun was almost down. He’d been waiting what felt like hours, since dinner, to be able to sneak out under the cover of darkness. The night was his friend, almost a partner. Just like the other fellows he worked with. They had an understanding. Mrs. Franklin was a wise woman. He knew getting out without her notice would be difficult, but he also knew she wasn’t the one he was worried about.

The stairs creaked beneath his weight, but without too much fuss, he was soon out the door and into the night, breathing the crisp fall air. It wasn’t so late that only the vagrants and derelicts were out and about, but it was close. He turned quickly off the main street and ducked behind the bank. The smell of freshly cut wood filled his nose, distracting him. He loved that smell. It reminded him of when he was a boy and he would help his father.

“I didn’t know him, but I bet he’d be proud.”

Dutch gasped and stumbled back against the wall as a man he’d seen fall to his death in the streets of New York City popped up beside him.

“H… H… Holden?”

“Yeah, boy, it’s me. I don’t have time to explain.”

Dutch must have given him a look of distrust because Holden narrowed his eyes at him. “Not now, boy. Later. When things aren’t so urgent. For now you’ll have to just trust me. You need to get back on the main road and head behind the mercantile. You’ll know why.”

Dutch wasn’t sure what to do. He was frozen against the wall, confused. His friend looked the same as the last time he’d seen him, well mostly. He was a little less solid if that could even be considered a thing, but other than that, he looked just the same. Just like Kara and Nessa. The girls had both inherited his dark curly hair and angled cheeks.

“You need to go, boy. Now!” Holden took hold of Dutch’s arm, pulling him from the wall. He tossed him back in the direction of the main street. Dutch took a few steps after his former mentor had released his arm. He turned back to ask Holden what he was meant to be doing, but the man had gone. Vanished.

A scream pierced through the night, and Dutch felt it hit him square in the chest. It shot through him and down his spine, spurring his feet to move. He knew right where to go, or Holden had known. Dutch raced down the street and slid as he turned the corner to the back of the mercantile. He briefly wondered how Mortimer and Toria weren’t hearing the commotion, but the thought quickly disappeared when he spotted the source of the scream.

The world completely slipped away. She lit up the night even though she was obviously terrified. They had her backed up against the wall, all three of them surrounding her, taunting her. Occasionally one would reach out and grab at her and she would turn away, only to have another one, closer to where she was, reach out and do the same. Dutch had never seen a more beautiful woman. He wondered why he’d never seen her around town. He stared in awe as she kicked and tried to cover herself, eventually curling as tightly into a ball as she could while still staying on her feet. Suddenly Dutch fell forward. Something that felt very much like strong hands had pushed him from behind. An echo around his head whispered, “Save her, you idiot.”

Dutch turned. He knew that Holden had returned, but when he looked, he wasn’t there. Turning back, he did as he’d been told. Dutch pulled his pistol from its holster. Quick and fast like he’d been practicing. He thrust the gun into the air above his head and fired off a shot, a huge smirk on his face.

That was enough to grab their attention. All three men turned their attention from the girl to him. “What’s it to ya?” The one in front, the biggest one, the one that had instigated the entire thing he was sure, stepped forward, his lackeys falling in step behind him.

Dutch shook his head. “Don’t y’all have something better to do with your time? Harassing a helpless female, really? Can’t you do better?”

The goon in front was mean looking. He had a large scar running down his neck, and one side of his face looked as if someone had held a branding iron to it. Dutch didn’t think it was funny, but chuckled the same. Seemed like this big fella had had a few run-ins in the past.

“How ‘bout ya mind and run off, boy. We’ll handle the rest.”

Dutch looked past the goon and his merry band of hoodlums to where the girl was starting to unfurl from her ball. “Hey, darlin’, you should scatter and you should do it quickly.” He wanted nothing more than to go to her, take her under his care, and return her safely to wherever she’d come from. He was actually worried he’d never see her again, after all, he’d been in Creede for months and had never seen her before, so why would he see her again?

Her eyes connected with his as she straightened fully. They were bright and hit him with a jolt that made him listen for thunder. She nodded and hiked up her skirt before she took off running. Once she was out of sight, he returned his attention the men before him.

“You’re goin’ to regret that, boy.”

The head goon moved at him once again. Dutch still had his gun in his hand and immediately lifted it and pointed it right at him. “How about no, and you three leave town. Tonight.” Dutch made sure to make eye contact with each of the men. “And don’t come back.”

He could see the war raging within the big guy in front of him. One hand he really hated that he was being bullied and intimidated. He was too big and had too bad a reputation to let such a thing stand and yet, Dutch was obviously dangerous and was pointing a gun directly at him. Dutch lowered the gun, albeit slowly, once he saw which side of the goon was winning the argument. The man waved his buddies forward, and they stalked past Dutch without another word.

“I have no desire to get married, Kara. Just because you love it and love your husband doesn’t mean that’s the life for all of us.” Nessa wrapped herself in her shawl and headed for the door. “I like working at the bank. Beth and Byron are very sweet, and I get to talk to people all day.” She tried to offer her sister a reassuring smile. “I promise I’m happy.”

Kara shook her head. “What about Dutch?”

Nessa stopped by the door with her hand on the knob. “What about him?”

It didn’t escape Nessa’s notice that Kara at least had the good sense to look a little timid. “Well, father was pushing for the two of you to marry before he died. Do you think it was a coincidence that he ended up in the same town in Colorado as we did?”

Nessa shook her head and laughed. “Absolutely not. I’m more than sure it wasn’t.”

Kara stood and set her knitting project on the sofa as she stalked over toward the door. “Then why won’t you give him a chance? Marry him. You could be taken care of and happy. He makes a good wage.”

Nessa shook her head at her sister. She pulled the door open. “You know what, Kara, why don’t we have this discussion if he ever asks me? Right now, I’m going to the bank. I won’t be home for supper.”

More slamming than basic shutting the door behind her, Nessa started down the path to the barn. She’d saddle her horse and head to town. She really loved that she could spend her days in Creede proper and then her nights and mornings at the house on the hill. It was a beautiful place, Colorado. It almost made up for them not being home. New York was a much different place than Creede. It had taken a while for both Kara and Nessa to adapt. Kara’s husband, Aedan, and their old family friend, Dutch, had been a great help to both of them. They’d encouraged them to do things that Western women did, like saddle and ride horses. Back in New York, they rode in carriages and never touched horses.

Thinking of home and horses never took her to a good place though. She tried and failed to stop that thinking in its tracks. Henry. He filled her every thought as she brushed and saddled her mare, the horse’s chestnut mane blowing in the soft autumn breeze. Henry loved horses. He always smelled faintly of grass and horse. It had been a completely intoxicating smell to her. Something so different and unique, she’d never smelled another man that smelled like him. He was the thing she missed most about New York. More often than she cared to think about, she woke from dreams, breathing heavily and frantically waiting for her eyes to adjust to the night because she’d had flashes of both him and her father, both dead, lying in the street in Five Points. She hadn’t seen her father lying in the street, but it hadn’t taken much to imagine it once she’d known the truth.

Her father had been a gangster, and he’d been shot to death in the street like a common criminal. Those nights, she’d picture his long coat splayed out and his hat fallen just to the side of him as his chest leaked his blood into the street. Occasionally, the man’s face would change, and her father would become Henry. She really hated those dreams. She never got back to sleep after.

She finished saddling her horse and walked her out of the barn. She mounted and settled into the saddle, starting off at a gentle walk, but Nessa wasn’t feeling like walking today. She needed something to clear her head. Get the ideas and pictures of her father and Henry out of her head. She gradually encouraged the horse to move faster and faster until they were flying through the fields and over the hills. Before too long, Creede came into view and she slowed the horse to a trot. Riding was good for her, the air not wiping her mind of the negative and scary thoughts, but allowing her to think through them. She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly as she looked over the valley, her sister’s words now prominent in her mind. She could be safe and settled, taken care of…if she married Dutch. Her father had wanted it. He trusted Dutch. He’d been her father’s protégé. He’d taught him everything he’d known.

At one time, Nessa had been on board. She’d even agreed to be Dutch’s wife at some point, even though she was head over heals in love with another. Henry was never far from her thoughts, but he was a stable hand. Her father would never allow it. He had raised his daughters in a certain way of life and had every intention of them remaining there. If she married so far below her station, that would never be possible. But Dutch. Dutch offered exactly the life her father had been looking for his daughters to have, and she’d agreed because she’d never seen another way. She desperately wished she’d told Henry she loved him before she’d left.

Taking one last deep, calming breath, she exhaled and reminded herself that now was different. She had learned and grown a lot since they’d come to Creede. She was no longer that kept girl that was naive and self-centered. She understood things now, and most importantly she didn’t have to marry or any of that nonsense. She could take care of herself.