Ewan glared at his men as they whispered over a copy of the newspaper. One of the men had brought it back after running an errand midafternoon, and it had been passed from man to man since his return. He shook his head as Ben stood next to him. “I had hoped, when I made ye foreman, that this sort of mischief would cease.”

Ben cleared his throat and whispered, “The article is all about the journalist. Her past. Her challenges with her father. Her father’s cruelty. And his presence in town.”

Ewan froze a moment before striding across the room and grabbing the paper from one of his workers. He managed to extricate it from his grasp without rending it in two. He returned to the table with Ben and set it in front of him.

“True and Tantalizing?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrows.

“That’s what she’s calling this section that will become a frequent feature, similar to the N&N and the F or F.” He grinned at Ewan. “Besides T&T has a nice ring to it.”

“Aye. We all like to believe our lives are interesting enough to be explosive.” Ewan shrugged and then focused on the paper.

Ewan let out a deep breath as he read and then reread her words. “Well, she is good at garnering sympathy.” He set aside the paper and stared at the workbench.

Ben snorted. “That’s all you have to say?” He waited a moment, focusing on the clenching and unclenching of Ewan’s fists. “Why aren’t you over at her shop now, speaking with her?”

Ewan exhaled again, this time closing his eyes while he breathed out. “I’m certain she has plenty of admirers to fend off.” He glared at Ben when he began to argue. “I willna beg. She kens …” He looked at his men who were busy at work, ignoring his conversation. “She kens, aye?” He pushed past Ben and stormed from the workshop.

He stomped down the alley, past the rear of the school, and then slipped onto the main road that led to the valley. When he was nearly to the sawmill, he slowed his frenetic pace. He shivered, despite the sun in the sky, as he had not brought his jacket, and winced at the mud seeping into his boots.

He walked the rest of the distance to the sawmill, focusing on the intense blue of the sky, the white clouds in the distance, and the trees with a few golden leaves clinging to the branches. Fluffy snow sat atop many of the limbs, filling out the branches and preventing them from looking as skeletal. The scent of woodsmoke wafted through the air, and he smiled as he approached the sawmill.

“Miss Ericson,” he called out. “What are ye doin’ outside? ’Tis too cold today.”

She laughed and waved. “Hello, Mr. MacKinnon. There are always chores to do.” She frowned when she realized he only had on a long-sleeved flannel shirt. “Where is your jacket? Come. Nathaniel is inside.”

He accepted her fussing and followed her into the house after kicking off his boots at the front door. He set them in front of the fire to dry and then held his hands out as he shivered as the warmth seeped in. He jerked as Nathaniel slapped him on his shoulders in welcome.

“Ewan! I never expected to see you today.” Nathaniel’s jovial smile faltered as he saw his friend without a coat and huddled in front of the stove.

“I’m fine,” Ewan said. “I was a fool. Upset about something and stormed out of the worksite without grabbing my jacket.”

“Well, let Leena warm you up with some food and hot apple cider, ya?” Nathaniel sat at the tall square table pushed against the wall of the room near the kitchen area. He smiled in welcome as Leena set out steaming bowls of stew, thick slabs of bread, and mugs of cider from a pot on the stove.

Ewan joined Nathaniel and Leena, sighing with contentment as he took a sip of the cider. “Heaven. You should sell your baked goods to the townspeople.” He watched as the siblings shared a long look. “Has Anna or Cailean spoken with you yet?”

“Ya,” Nathaniel said. He waited as he nodded for Leena to speak.

“I want to become her partner,” Leena said as her cheeks reddened with her enthusiasm.

“That’s wonderful!” Ewan said. “It will mean a lot to Cailean to know you are there and to ease Anna’s worries after the bairn arrives.” He frowned as Leena shrugged.

“Karl doesn’t want me to accept such a position.”

Ewan frowned. “I dinna understand.”

Nathaniel chewed a carrot and then set down his stew spoon. “He thinks Leena should continue here, helping me, and then focus on the home they will have together.”

Ewan saw any excitement in Leena’s expression fade as her brother spoke. “Why can ye no’ do both? I ken most men want their wife at home during the day, but Karl should be proud of yer abilities.” Ewan shook his head. “And that ye can alleviate the financial concerns.” He watched as the siblings shared a long look.

“Karl is not as … progressive as you,” Nathaniel said. “He believes any financial solution should be resolved by the men of the family.”

Ewan snorted. “That’s rubbish, and ye ken it. I’ve hardly been accused of bein’ a champion of advancin’ women’s freedoms, but ye canna allow Karl to prevent ye from doin’ something ye desire. Somethin’ ye and yer brother need.” He shook his head in confusion. “I must admit I’m flummoxed.” He paused. “Miss Erickson, what is it ye want? Not what ye worry others want, but what ye want?”

She smiled. “An easy question to answer. I want to work with Mrs. MacKinnon. I want to help Nathaniel after all he has done for me.”

Ewan waited for Nathaniel to speak. When Leena’s brother remained quiet, Ewan spoke. “I ken what it feels like to be in a sibling’s debt. However, I’d no’ recommend ye live yer life attempting to repay a debt. Repaying the debt is no’ what will bring ye peace.” He met Leena’s confused gaze. “I hope ye can decide for yerself what ye want.”

Nathaniel cleared his throat, and Ewan ate the bowl of stew in front of him. He complimented Leena for the delicious bread and gobbled down a piece of apple crumb cake. “Have things slowed down at the sawmill?” Ewan asked.

“Ya.” Nathaniel swiped at his face with his napkin. “Winter came early, an’ none other than you planned by framing buildings before the cold weather arrived.”

Ewan shrugged. “The others constructing buildings in town are amateurs.” He shared a grin with his friend. “I shudder to pass their buildings when a strong wind blows.”

They shared a laugh, and soon Ewan departed for town. As he passed the livery, he ventured inside to speak with his eldest brother. He walked to the small office in the back of the livery and poked his head in. Cailean sat with a ledger in front of him, a lamp illuminating the rows of numbers and his brother’s frown. “Money problems?”

Cailean looked up and smiled. “Nae. We’re prospering, and it’s all due to our partnership. Alistair has more time to work as a farrier, and Bears …” Cailean smiled. “He’s a wonder with horses.”

“Why were ye frownin’?” Ewan sat on an overturned box, his fingers tracing the rim of his hat.

“I’ve wondered for the past few months, but especially since we were full past capacity with the Harvest Festival, about when we’d have a rival livery. I fear we’ll need to expand soon or another shop will open.”

Ewan looked over Cailean’s shoulder, his gaze distant. “They willna build over the winter, an’ I willna build it for them.” He smiled as he focused on his eldest brother. “Ye’ll give me somethin’ to focus on this season, plannin’ the expansion of the livery.”

Cailean smiled. “Thanks.” He set down his pencil and ignored the ledger book as he looked at his brother. “What brings you by?”

“I spoke with Miss Ericson today. I hadna realized ye and Anna had discussed a partnership with her.”

Cailean nodded. “We visited her and her brother yesterday. We planned on discussing it with you tonight.” He raised an eyebrow. “You were absent from supper last night.”

Ewan shook his head, ignoring Cailean’s silent question. “She wants to be a partner, Cail.”

His brother sighed and rested his head on one hand. “I know. It’s convincing her dimwitted fiancé that’s the problem.” He shrugged. “Now that Belle is willing to have a partner, I hope Miss Ericson joins her.”

Ewan nodded. “I hate that there’s nothin’ more I can do to help ye.”

With hazel eyes shining with gratitude and love, Cailean smiled at his youngest brother. “You’ve done plenty, Ewan. You’ve brought Belle’s sister home. You’ve opened Belle’s eyes to the possibility of a partnership. She hates the idea of closing the bakery, but I fear that would have occurred had she remained obstinate in her desire to run it alone.”

Ewan nodded, tapping his hat between his legs and hitting the side of the box a few times. “How are ye, Cail? Now that the bairn grows and the birth approaches?”

Cailean ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward as though in prayer. “Terrified. Excited. Determined to enjoy every moment I have with Belle.” He shrugged. “I imagine I’m like most husbands.”

“Aye, but ye ken what it is to lose everything.” Ewan cleared his throat, changing the subject for his brother. “Have things calmed here for Bears? I witnessed a man treating him with disrespect last week.”

Cailean sighed, his finger tapping at the desktop in agitation. “Aye, it’s no different now than before the article. Her apology”—he raised his eyebrows at the dubious use of the word—“appeased many of the townsfolk. There were enough here, who, after they calmed down, remembered the relationship Jack had with Bears.” His jaw tightened for a moment. “There will always exist those who wish ill on others or act like idiots.”

Ewan nodded. “I’m glad ’tis no worse than it ever was.” He rose. “I’ll see ye at home for supper.” He slipped out the door and returned to the worksite, ignoring his desire to stop by the print shop to see how Jessamine fared.

* * *

Warren rapped on her door the following morning and waited for her to unlock it. He smiled when she let him in. “How does it feel to be the talk of the town?”

She shuddered. “I’m the talk of the town for all the reasons I dreaded.” She glared at the one copy of the last paper she had kept. She always printed herself a copy and had a large file where she stacked them on top of each other. Soon it would be covered by the latest edition. “I had hoped I was vague enough that the townsfolk did not realize I was referring to myself.” She shared a chagrined smile with Warren. “They are more astute than I gave them credit for.”

Warren moved to the small potbellied stove in the center of the room and played with the slumbering coals inside. He then added a little fuel, closed the stove door, and held up his hands in front of it to warm them. “Ah, there’s nothing I like better than a well-built fire.”

She watched him curiously. “When you decide to make your story public, will you allow me to publish it?”

Warren flushed and turned to look out at the town where a fresh coat of snow covered the boardwalk and street. “Oh, there’s little of interest to tell. Nothing to tantalize the townsfolk.”

Jessamine shook her head. “I hardly believe that’s true. You’re one to know secrets but impart your own very reluctantly.”

Warren shrugged. “With stories like the ones you have recently published, you are regaining the townsfolk’s regard. However, I do not know how you will ever undo the damage you did to Bears’ reputation.”

She turned to fiddle with blocks of letters and failed to meet his gaze. “There is little I can do to make amends. I will continue to hope I can write something that will change the townsfolk’s perception of him.”

Warren nodded. “I could ask for no more.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I know I have been a constant irritant to you and that you must often wonder why I pester you as often as I do.” He met her gaze. “However, it was due to my recommendation and pressure that you were offered the job. I convinced the committee that they could do no better than hire you.”

Jessamine flushed and shook her head. “I don’t understand. I was an unknown when I arrived.”

Warren smiled. “I have friends all over the country. After you applied, I sent an urgent telegram for information.” He lifted one eyebrow and shoulder. “I knew you were a woman. And I knew your penchant for stirring up trouble.”

She pointed at him. “It’s why you were dissatisfied with my articles. You had vouched for me and were worried I would be a disappointment.”

He rolled his eyes. “You could never disappoint as a reporter. However, it’s what you chose to report that rankled.” He waved his hand. “Enough about the past few months. It seems you are turning a corner.” He took a deep breath. “I need a favor.”

She frowned and nodded. “What is it?”

“The town needs money. There are projects that must be completed if we are to remain a viable, desirable place for people to live. However, one of our committee members”—he pointed to the bank next door—“refuses to consider plans we have for raising taxes.”

“Taxes? That’s the most hated word, besides war.”

“Perhaps, but you can’t live in a civilized place without some sort of inflow, and taxes are the fairest way to ensure revenue. We already know our most wealthy will not willingly pay for what we need.”

Jessamine chuckled. “No, Mr. Finlay is too busy guarding his wealth.” She furrowed her brows as she watched Warren. “How would I be able to help you?”

Warren sighed. “The townsfolk voted him onto the committee, but I fear they are not hearing the truth about what is occurring at the meetings. When they visit the bank, or see him around town, he spreads the tales of how much he is doing, but that he is hog-tied from accomplishing all he would like.”

Jessamine shook her head. “What amazes me is that people believe him.” She shared a look with Warren. “Why not have another meeting at your office and have me present?”

“That would never work. He’ll act differently when he realizes you are there.”

She smiled. “Leave your small office door open, and I’ll sit back there, away from the three of you. If there is one constant, besides his frugality, it’s his booming voice.” Her smile spread. “That is one exposé I would relish publishing.”

“I’ll let you know of our next meeting date.” Warren laughed and nodded, his shoulders relaxing as though a weight had been lifted. “Thank you, J.P. I’ve been unable to think of a way to bring about real change with him impeding us at every turn.” He headed for the door but paused before opening it and faced Jessamine. “I know you’ll hear this news soon enough. Once you released your paper yesterday, your father’s welcome here became more tepid.”

Jessamine sighed. “He won’t like that. He expects to be celebrated wherever he goes.”

Warren laughed. “Well, you should have seen his cold reception at the café last night. From what I was told, Irene gave him an earful.”

Jessamine laughed. “I almost wish I had been there to hear it.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and rubbed her hands over her upper arms. “If there is one thing he despises, it’s publicity that makes him appear less than gallant.”

Warren shook his head, his smile pleased. “Well, I’d say public opinion turned against him even more when he snarled at Irene.” He nodded as Jessamine gasped. “Yes, he’s not as astute as he likes to believe himself if he didn’t know better than to treat her poorly in her own café.”

“What happened?” Jessamine asked.

“From all accounts, he was thrown out on his hind end by a pair of miners who are fond of Irene and Harold. They were the first to react as it seems all the men in the café stood, ready to defend Irene. Harold was held back, with his rolling pin in hand, by one of the hands at his grandson’s ranch.”

Jessamine let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God my father can’t complain to the sheriff and press for charges against them.”

Warren chuckled. “His pride and pantaloons were damaged.” He fingered the doorknob. “Lock up after me, J.P. I fear the man has yet to see sense. He’s still at the Grand.”

Jessamine nodded, locking the door after Warren. She pulled the curtains before collapsing on her small cot, a pillow hugged to her chest.

* * *

That evening Warren sat in his parlor, sipping an amber glass of spirits when he heard the knock at his front door. He groaned and rose. Long shadows filled the front door area, and he held a lamp up as he opened the door. “Come in,” he murmured to the man on his front step.

“I dinna mean to interrupt yer evenin’,” Ewan murmured.

“I was thinking about impossibilities,” Warren said with a self-deprecating smile. “Come. Join me by the fire. It’s cold tonight.” He led Ewan into the parlor where he motioned for Ewan to sit in a high-back chair. He raised an eyebrow as he approached the decanters.

“Nae,” Ewan said with a grimace. “I’ve a mind to drink stronger spirits than yer inclined to imbibe.”

Warren nodded and sat, lifting his tumbler and swallowing a long swig of his amber-colored drink. “What brings you by tonight? Anyone with sense is buttoned down at home.”

Ewan laughed humorlessly. “Aye, that’s always been my problem. I’m too often without sense.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and then squared his shoulders as he took a deep breath. “Do ye mean to ask for her?”

Warren squinted at Ewan after the question and shook his head as though he were hard of hearing. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Dammit, man, must I spell it out fer ye? Do ye plan to marry Jessie?”

Warren choked on the sip of his drink he had just swallowed. “J.P.? Why on earth would I wed her?” He held up his hand to placate Ewan. “I meant no offense. She’s a fine woman, but she’s not for me. She never has been.” He fought a smile before he saw Ewan’s torment, and then he sobered. “She’s never seen me that way either.”

“Ye’re at her shop constantly. Ye had dinner with her the other night. Ye … Ye …”

Warren raised his eyebrows as Ewan stuttered to a halt. “You’re as bad as the gossiping biddies in this town. And you can’t even come up with more than two reasons for why she and I would be courting. Which we aren’t.” He shook his head emphatically. “We are friends.”

“Friends?” Ewan asked.

“As of today we are. Before now I was someone she put up with who criticized her soundly for her publishing mistakes.” Warren took a deep breath. “I have my sights set elsewhere.”

Ewan leaned back in his chair, mollified for a moment before he stiffened. “If ye mean Sorcha, ye’d better have only honorable intentions in mind.”

Warren pointed a finger at Ewan. “It’s none of your business who I intend to pursue. And no need to be insulting in your petulance at your inability to convince J.P. to marry you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Plus I am as honorable as the situation requires.”

Ewan snorted. “Said like a damn lawyer. Either ye are or ye are no’ honorable. There is no’ much room for prevaricatin’.”

Warren laughed. “I’m afraid you have a lot to learn. There’s always room for evasiveness, especially in the courtroom. Or love.” He watched as Ewan fidgeted across from him. After taking a deep sip of his drink, Warren let out a satisfied sigh. He met his guest’s surprised stare at his action and smiled. “Why should you care who pursues J.P.?”

Ewan shrugged.

“It’s not as though you are still interested in her.” He fought a smile as Ewan stiffened and gripped the arms of his chair. “J.P. told me today she’s had no contact with you in days. She believes you are content to be pursued by the townswomen.”

“Would serve the daft woman right if I married the Jameson girl.” He frowned as Warren flinched.

“What about Fidelia?” Warren asked. “How is she since she left the Boudoir?”

Ewan shook his head and frowned. “Terrified. I dinna ken what to do for her. She hides in her room, refuses to see anyone until Anna forces her way in. She’s no’ like the woman I remember seeing at the Boudoir. Confident and sassy.”

The lawyer stared into the fire for a long moment before sighing. “Perhaps adjusting to life away from such a place is more of a burden for her than could have been expected.”

Ewan hung his head as though in shame. “I never meant to harm her. When I had the chance to free her, I took it. I thought of Anna, of what I would want were Fidelia my sister. I never considered what Fidelia wanted.”

Warren sat in quiet contemplation a moment. “Perhaps she is having a difficult time due to the lack of a certain liquid the new doctor seems only too eager to supply the Beauties. I had hoped he would have greater expertise than he has thus far exhibited.” He raised an eyebrow as Ewan snorted.

“The new doctor, Doc Chester, kens less than I do about medicine. I dinna ken where he went to school, but he was no’ much of a student. I pity anyone in town who needs his services.”

Their gazes met as though sharing their worry about Cailean and Annabelle as the birth of their child approached. “There’s always the midwife,” Warren whispered.

“Aye, that’s what Alistair tells Cailean daily at the livery. An’ what I tell Anna whenever I see her alone without Cail. But the anxiety is mounting for them, in case a doctor is needed.” He tapped his thigh in agitation. “They should be lookin’ forward to the birth of their bairn, not dreadin’ it. Anna must force joy into her expression, and Cailean watches his wife as though he’s tryin’ to fill a lifetime of memories into these months.”

“It isn’t fair,” Warren muttered.

“Nae, it isna. If that bluidy Doc had no’ been intent on travelin’ to Butte, we would continue with a competent man now.” Ewan shook his head in disgust.

“If the new doctor is found to be incompetent, he will be replaced.” Warren’s jaw twitched as he clamped it shut.

“Aye, but who has to suffer afore then? Who must die?” Ewan stared into the flames and then stiffened his shoulders. “I’m sorry to interrupt yer quiet evenin’ at home, Warren. I’ll see myself out.” He rose, clapped Warren on the back, and strode to the front door.

Warren followed him, locking the door after him. He returned to the parlor, his thoughts even more muddled than before Ewan had arrived.