A brisk wind blew, scattering golden and reddened leaves with strong gusts. Shorter days and longer nights, with a crisp feel to the air, acted as a harbinger of winter due to arrive earlier and more harshly than the previous year. Ewan scowled as he considered the amount of work needed to be accomplished before the first snow fell.

He entered the worksite and sighed as his men began to work twice as hard once he arrived. Ben worked nearby, and Ewan listened to a conversation the men were having. “I dinna understand what they’re talkin’ about.”

Ben shrugged. “Seems that reporter put out a new paper this mornin’ with another tall tale. The men are tryin’ to determine if it’s true.”

Ewan grunted. “Most things that woman writes are blatant exaggerations.” After a moment he muttered, “What was this one about?” He glared at Ben as his friend smiled at his question.

“Seems there was once an early settler who one day decided to ride his horse out on the prairie. He was an absentminded man, interested in nature, and he tethered his horse to a rock as he sat near a pretty cliff to look out over the beautiful expanse below him.” He grinned at Ewan’s snort. “Oh, no, it gets better.”

Ewan raised an eyebrow and grinned at Ben. “If she wrote it, I can only imagine.” He hammered in a nail and then set about measuring a board as he listened to his friend.

“As he sat, marveling at the wonder before him, a herd of buffalo hemmed him in place. His horse, the only sensible animal in this story, became skittish and broke free, scaring the buffalo. Some tumbled over the cliff to their deaths. Others swerved away, back to the vast expanse of the prairie. Our fine friend jumped off the cliff, to what he thought would be certain death, to escape a trampling by a buffalo.”

Ewan raised an eyebrow. “An’ there’s doubt it’s fiction?”

Ben laughed. “It’s not over yet. He falls, thinking in an instant how wonderful his life had been and giving thanks for it, when he lands with a thud on a soft buffalo carcass. He’s speared in the arm by one of the horns but is otherwise unscathed.”

Ewan snorted in disbelief as Ben gave a short bow as though he were a fine stage actor. “Ye’re as daft as she is.” He listened to his men arguing in favor of the story being fact. “Ye all are if ye believe it’s true.”

Ben smiled as he picked up a handful of nails. “Haven’t you seen the scar on Mr. Finlay’s arm?” He shrugged. “And he loves nature.”

Ewan shouted in pain as he accidentally hammered his thumb. “Are ye seriously insinuatin’ that ye believe the banker, the puffed-up man who willna go anywhere if he’s no’ in satin or silk, would sit in a field and land on a buffalo carcass?” He shook his head and snorted.

“Then what is his scar from?” Ben demanded.

“I dinna ken. I had hoped he had earned it honorably, as many men in this country did when fightin’ in their Civil War.” He shrugged. “I dinna go lookin’ for other people’s secrets, Ben.”

Ben nodded. “I imagine that’s because you don’t want them lookin for yours.”

Ewan sighed. “Ye ken me. I’ve nothin’ to hide.” He shook his hammer at his friend. “An’ dinna give me that rubbish about everyone havin’ somethin’ to hide.” He sighed. “At least the story wasna about me this time.”

“Her tall tales never are. Although each one is better.”

Ewan rolled his shoulders as though attempting to alleviate tension. “I like the real ones. Teachin’ us about the history of this place we call home.” He met Ben’s amused gaze. “I ken they’re real ’cause they make sense. But it doesna make them any less remarkable. Someone had to live those stories, and I’m always filled with a mixture of happiness and regret that it wasna me creatin’ such tales.”

Ben laughed. “I’ll always be thankful I wasn’t Colter, running from the Blackfeet.” He shook his head in wonder. “I can’t imagine being stripped and told to run, knowing their fastest braves were behind me, intent on killing me.”

Ewan shivered as he thought about the mountain man and explorer, John Colter. He had been an original member of the Lewis and Clark Corps of Discovery and had spent the majority of his life exploring the wild undiscovered-to-whites West. “He killed their fastest runner and then hid among downed logs in a river.”

Ben shook his head. “No, he hid in a beaver lodge.”

Ewan laughed. “How do ye expect a grown man to fit in a beaver lodge?”

His friend shrugged. “This is why they think all our stories, about men who truly lived, are tall tales.”

Ewan nodded as he shared a smile with his friend. “Can ye imagine what he looked like, strollin’ into that trader’s post on the Little Big Horn River over a week later, naked as the day he was born, with his feet torn to shreds?”

Ben laughed. “I would think he was lucky not to have been shot on sight.” He cast a quick glance at his friend. “I thought you’d be irate that the men were talking about the reporter and her stories today after how she treated Bears.”

Ewan shook his head. “I ken now she’s no’ as I feared. An’ that makes all the difference.” He smiled as Ben looked at him in confusion before he slapped his friend on the shoulder and left him to work alone as he moved to supervise the men he had just hired that summer.

* * *

Annabelle sat at the kitchen table, rubbing her growing belly as she read and reread the News and Noteworthy section in the newspaper. She sighed, finally understanding Ewan’s distaste for being singled out for comment. “It isn’t ridicule,” she said to herself.

“What isn’t ridicule?” Cailean asked as he leaned down and kissed her nape. He smiled as his kiss evoked a quiver. “That damn woman. Why can’t she focus on another family?”

Annabelle set aside the paper and placed a hand over Cailean’s that now rested on her shoulder. “We fascinate her for some reason.”

“She didn’t write anything false, Belle.” He half smiled. “Well, except for that part about me allowing you to do anything. She clearly doesn’t know you well enough to understand you’ll do what you like.” After a moment’s silence, he said, “I’ve spoken with Warren, and we can’t shut her down.” He moved and settled beside her. He frowned when he saw the concern in her gaze. “What is it?”

“She confirmed the town’s suspicion that I am to have a child sometime next year. I worry that a new bakery will open, and I will lose my customers during the time my bakery is closed.” She lifted a finger to her husband’s lips. “I know it will be a challenge to work after the baby is born, but I love the bakery. I love baking.”

“You won’t have the time, love,” he whispered. “Our bairn will take more time and energy than you imagine.”

Ewan wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his belly. He stopped when he saw them and backed out. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No, you’re hungry, and I’m being foolish,” Annabelle said. “There’s a plate of sandwiches in the icebox.”

Ewan smiled and pulled out a plate for himself before extracting the sandwiches. He took one and then set the full plate in the middle of the round table. It took only a few moments for Cailean to grab one too. “She didna write anythin’ terrible, Anna.”

Annabelle shrugged.

Cailean swallowed his bite of sandwich and spoke. “Belle’s worried that another might start a bakery in her absence.”

Ewan nodded as he gobbled up another sandwich. He rose for a glass of water and then leaned against the kitchen counter. “Why should you have to close?”

Annabelle rolled her eyes. “There isn’t anyone in town who I’d trust the bakery to. Who can bake what I bake.” She flushed. “That sounds terribly conceited, but I know another bakery could spring up if someone could afford it.”

Ewan shook his head. “Not everyone has the resources to start up another business. Have you spent much time with Leena Ericson?” When Annabelle stared at him blankly, he said, “Her brother, Nathaniel, runs the sawmill, and I’ve come to know him well the past few years. She cooks sweets like a dream, Anna. Almost as good as you, and she cooks different items, such as a delicious apple bread.”

His gaze moved from Cailean to Annabelle. “Cail and Alistair took on a partner out of necessity this summer. Perhaps ye should consider a partner too. That way, yer bakery could remain open, and the Ericsons would not have to worry as much about money durin’ the winter season.”

Annabelle stilled. “I’ve never considered a partner. Other than Leticia, but she doesn’t bake sweets like I do.”

Ewan shrugged. “I understand ye wantin’ to keep the bakery completely in the family, but sometimes that’s no’ possible. I’d consider a solution where ye could keep the bakery runnin’, Anna.” He drained his glass of water and left the kitchen.

Annabelle let out a deep breath and stared at her husband. “What do you think?”

Cailean tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “You’ve been saying for months that you could sell more goods if you had more help. Another baker would aid you. I wouldn’t mind having more than one day a week where you were home with me.” He brushed aside a tendril of her hair. “Besides, your dream isn’t just the bakery anymore, is it?”

She met his gaze, frowning as he failed to hide the insecurity in his. She cupped his cheek, and a full smile bloomed as she looked at his beloved face. “Of course it isn’t. It’s us and our family and the life we are building. The bakery is only one part of it.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “I love you, Cailean.”

“I could not bear it if something happened to you or the bairn.”

She rubbed her fingers over his stubble. “I know. I couldn’t either.” She took a deep breath. “Let me think over what Ewan suggested for a few days. If Leena is to work with me, she should start soon. I want her well-established at the bakery and accepted by the townsfolk before I have our baby.”

* * *

Jessamine sat at a small table to the side of the café during a lull in customers. She had forgotten to eat lunch, and it was a short time before the dinner rush. Bright red calico cloths covered the tables, and small vases of dried flowers sat at the center of each one. She smiled warmly as Harold poked his head out of the kitchen doorway.

“I was just sayin’ to Irene that you had missed your midday meal, and here you are. Trying to get a two for one?” he asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“No, I was busy and forgot to eat.”

“Well, you should never forget to eat if you’re going to keep up your strength.” He sighed as he looked at the menu board already wiped clean. “We have fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy or fish with the same.”

“I’ll have the chicken.” She flushed. “Did Annabelle bring any dessert today?”

He chuckled. “Yes, and, since you are the first of the dinner crowd, you can choose anything you like.” He winked before turning to call the order into the kitchen. He came back with the coffeepot and poured her a cup. “Now tell me about what you’re working on.”

She shrugged. “More tall tales.”

He shook his head. “You’ve got the townsfolk in a dither over whether or not they’re true.”

She shook her head. “I think most knew of Colter’s run.” She blew on the coffee. “I shouldn’t make them so obvious when they are true.”

He laughed. “What you should do is have a piece of paper, like a voting slip, in your newspaper where they could vote if it is fact or fiction. Thataway you only have to write one of those columns a week, but people would buy each paper to see what their friends thought. And everyone would have to buy a paper to obtain an official vote.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“I always thought Irene was the brains behind this business, but I can see I might have been mistaken.” She smiled with delight as she considered his plan.

He laughed. “I’m a lot like you. I chest my cards.”

She frowned and shook her head.

“In poker, just as in life, you never show all you have, or don’t have, too soon. That would be a disaster.”

She giggled. “You are a rascal.” Her smile widened as he seemed pleased by her comment. “I think the townsfolk like the N&N section.”

His smile dimmed. “Well, as long as you are not too biting in your wit, it’s fine. Don’t threaten those who are vulnerable, Miss Jessamine. They will only be made more so, and it makes all of us weaker.”

She frowned at his words, but then Irene arrived with her food, and Irene pushed Harold out of his seat and took his place. Irene smiled as Harold grumbled about dishes to be done.

Irene’s smile grew as she watched Jessamine devour her dinner. “I knew there was something wrong when you didn’t show for the midday meal. Harold told me that I was fussing worse than a mother hen, but I should have ensured you were all right.”

Jessamine flushed. “I forgot the time.” Her flush deepened when Harold emerged with a large slab of cake. “You don’t have to feel responsible for me.”

Irene shook her head. “You’re determined not to let anyone care, aren’t you?” Irene motioned for Harold to put down the dessert and then skedaddle. “However, I don’t need your permission.”

Jessamine took a bite of the cake and shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s more about how I’m unaccustomed to it.”

Irene stared deeply into her eyes, before Jessamine broke eye contact and used her fork to cut off another piece of cake to eat. “I’ve all sorts of ideas about you and what happened to you in the past,” Irene said. “It will be interesting to see which ones prove true.” She rose as supper customers trickled in.

Jessamine finished her cake, left her coins on the table, and departed. She exited the café and paused a moment on the boardwalk, her gaze rising to the mountains above the town. She shivered as cool air replaced the earlier warmth of the mid-October day, and she had forgotten her shawl.

Sunlight glinted on the high mountain slopes above town. Streaks of golden orange broke the monotony of evergreen as the larch gave a burst of color before they lost their needles for the winter. She stared in wonder at the mountains a moment before shivering again and heading home.

* * *

Ewan rode back from a homesteader’s plot of land and paused. He patted the side of the horse’s neck and, closing his eyes, turned his face up to the warmth of the late afternoon sun. He opened his eyes as he heard the call of a gaggle of Canadian geese flying overhead and watched them soar above him. A soft breeze blew, rustling the golden leaves clinging to the cottonwoods that lined the creek.

Rather than rush back to one of his three worksites in town, he breathed deeply and relished the moment. His work would wait for him tomorrow. He dismounted and clucked for the horse to follow him to the creek, where he tied the reins to a tree. The horse nickered and then dozed in the sun. Ewan walked through waist-high dried-out yellowed grass and knelt by the creek. After dipping his bandanna in the frigid water, he wiped at his face.

Three merganser ducks flew low to the water, skidding to a landing not far from him. The creek trickled by, the water over rocks like a symphony and as soothing to Ewan. The sunlight enhanced the gold, orange, and red colors of the trees and bushes around him, giving it a mystical feel. He sighed as his stress eased from a hard season of work.

At a strong gust of wind, he looked up and saw gray storm clouds in the distance. He rose with a reluctant sigh and moved toward his horse. The ride into town took less than an hour, and he returned to the livery. Alistair and Cailean were inside as he led the horse to a clean stall. He curried the horse, smiling as his brothers stood in the hallway with their arms over the stall door, watching his movements.

“So, what did you say to Mr. Willems?” Cailean asked.

Ewan sighed. “It’s mid-October, ye ken? Snow will be here soon if the last years are of any use in predictin’ how things will go. Ye canna start constructin’ a house now.” He sighed with frustration.

Alistair frowned. “You could if it were a reasonable home.”

Ewan shook his head. “He wants to pay me next year. After he sees how his winter wheat does.”

Cailean growled. “No, you can’t accept that sort of agreement.” He nodded at Ewan. “You’ve always been an astute businessman.”

Ewan scratched behind the horse’s ear and leaned into its side. “That doesna make me feel better when I ken they’ll be livin’ in a one-room hut for another winter with two bairns. The poor woman looked desperate to have a better home.”

Alistair sighed. “Well, I do know they are no’ popular among the ranchers. They fenced off part of their land to keep out the cattle. Did no’ want the ‘horrible beasts’ wanderin’ in and ruinin’ their crop.”

Cailean scratched his head. “Makes you wonder why they ever chose to settle here. It’s a land for cattle.”

“Aye,” Ewan said. “The ranchers are angry, an’ I had more than one urge me no’ to build them a home.” He shook his head in disgust. “It’s perfect land for cattle and for farming.” His gaze gleamed as he thought of the valley. “’Tis beautiful land with the creek runnin’ through it and a natural spring.”

Alistair opened the stall door as Ewan emerged with the tack. “Well, they’ll only have more trouble afore they’re done. Should have chosen another place to settle.”

“Ye never ken, Alistair. This area might need more than ranches to survive,” Ewan murmured.

Cailean followed him to the tack room. “I’d go to the café for dinner tonight. Belle wasn’t up for preparing dinner, and Sorcha is in the kitchen.”

Ewan stilled as he rubbed his grumbling stomach. “I dinna eat at midday. I canna eat her food tonight, Cail.” He patted his brother on his arm. “I have to check on the worksites. I might be home late.”

Cailean laughed and slapped his brother on the back as he watched him go.

Ewan slipped out of the livery and headed down Main Street before cutting to the street behind the town’s main thoroughfare. After a few minutes, he arrived at one of his worksites and entered. He frowned as he saw how little had been accomplished during his absence. “I need a site foreman,” he muttered to himself. “I canna do this all on my own.”

He left the site and walked through town. He glared at the well-lit print shop, imagining the stories concocted while at her desk. “Bothersome woman.” He turned into the café and smiled at Harold who pointed to a table near the back.

After Ewan had ordered, and the evening crowd had died down, Harold joined him. “You look like a man who could use a little conversation.”

Ewan sighed as he sipped his coffee. “Aye. I should have kent better than to come here when it was busy.” He fought a smile and attempted a scowl as Harold laughed. “I’m tired of bein’ the topic of conversation for the townsfolk.”

Harold slapped a hand on the table as though he had just heard a great joke. “Of course you are. But you have to understand the townsfolk are enjoying how you are the one under scrutiny and not them. What you don’t hear, because you are disgusted with the attention, is their relief at not being singled out.”

Ewan frowned as he stared at his friend. “What do ye mean?”

“Before she arrived, we had a smattering of political debates, family quarrels, and too many manly boasts. Now, … now there are only discussions about articles in her paper, and no one reveals a secret.”

After taking a sip of coffee, Ewan murmured, “Is it because they are concerned they will be the next scandal?”

Harold nodded, his eyes gleaming with appreciation that Ewan had figured out the townsfolk’s concerns. “Unfortunately she has caused us to look at each other with suspicion and doubt.”

“Would it be better if she rid the paper of N&N?”

Harold snorted. “Now no man is going to tell a woman as strong willed as she is what to do. You should understand that, son. And I think the townsfolk would miss the N&N.” Harold met Ewan’s confused gaze. “It’s more the tone of it. The threat of meanness. If it were more in the way she writes about you, I think the townsfolk would be more at ease.”

Ewan sputtered. “She ridicules me every chance she gets!”

Harold laughed. “Yes, but do you feel threatened by her words? Do you worry about what she’ll write about you? Or are you amused?”

Ewan half smiled. “More often than not, I’m amused. Until she drags someone else into the story.”

“Exactly,” Harold said. “One of my favorites is still about you and the cow, before she inserted Miss Helen in the mess.” He laughed as Ewan flushed. After a few moments of silence, Harold asked, “Are you going to build those interlopers a home?”

Ewan cocked his head to the side and stared at a man he considered an uncle. “Nae, they dinna have the money to afford one right now. Perhaps next year.” He frowned as Harold grunted with satisfaction. “They have as much right as ye to be here, Harold. Besides, they actually own that land.”

Harold snorted. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law. Ask that lawyer of ours.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Puttin’ up fences, marring our good land with such an abomination.”

Ewan chuckled. “Ye’re just offended ye do no’ own that prime piece of property. Ye canna own it all, Harold.”

Harold shook his head. “And that’s a damn shame.” He looked outside as dusk turned to evening. “I imagine it was a beautiful ride through the valley today.”

“Aye, ’twas.”

Harold’s gaze became distant. “I call this the Golden Season. For a few short weeks, the sun seems that much brighter as it shines on everything that is some shade of red, yellow, or orange. It’s a time of possibilities.” He met Ewan’s gaze. “Everyone always talks about spring as a time of rebirth. I think now has just as much promise. This is a time when anything is possible.”