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ever asked you to be his wife! Although I am unwed, my viewpoint is different because I had no lack of admirers in my youth."
         "Surely you jest!"
         "Bradford Dillon begged me to marry him!"
         "The fool thought Father was rich! He beat a fast retreat when he learned your inheritance would be modest, at best!"
         "He was devastated when I refused his suit!"
         "Not true."
        "He suffered terribly!"
         "Hogwash!"
         "Harriet, how crude!"
        Aunt Penelope had maintained to the end that marriage was the safest and best road for her to take. Aunt Harriet had urged with relentless zeal that she maintain her personal independence.
        But she had cherished a dream of her own.
        She had been very young when her aunts had assumed her care. It did not take her long, however, to discover the loving natures they found difficult to display. But those dear women were gone now they had died within months of each other. She supposed she should have expected it to happen that way. One sister had never allowed the other to surpass her.
        Her eyes still closed, Chastity reached up to clutch her locket. She had started out a week earlier to make her cherished dream come true, only to find herself involved in this distressing dream that showed no signs of ending.
        Chastity slowly opened her eyes and looked down at the bed.
        This was no dream.
        Staring down into the parson's face, Chastity felt a familiar quiver in the pit of her stomach. The unanswered question returned. What was she doing here? This man with the clear blue eyes and irritable disposition had not spoken a civil word to her, yet she had put aside her own priorities in order to care for him. She had suffered insult and humiliation, and she had actually let her own integrity lapse by allowing the misconception to prevail that she was his wife .
        Why?
        That question joined the others as Chastity scrutinized her sleeping patient more closely. The parson's strong grip on her hand had loosened. The medicine had obviously taken effect and he was sleeping soundly at last.
        Chastity glanced at the chair in the corner where the pillow and blanket lying there beckoned her to sleep. Cautiously sliding her hand from his palm, she jumped with a start when Reed's eyes snapped open abruptly. She saw the flash of panic there a moment before he began struggling anew.
        "No, Reed!" Frightened by his sudden anxiety, Chastity grasped his hand and gripped it tight. His gaze met hers with startling intensity as she whispered, "See, I'm still here! I'm sitting on the bed beside you."
        Reed went abruptly still. He blinked as he strained to identify her. Her relief knew no bounds when the tension left his body and his eyes closed.
        Glancing again toward the chair in the corner, Chastity withheld a sigh. Her back was breaking and her eyelids were as heavy as lead. She was so tired. She looked at the unused portion of the bed beside her patient and gave a wistful sigh.
        She was so, so tired.
    Chapter Three
        It was morning. The night had been filled with confused dreams. His head hurt. His thoughts were muddled. Images of Jenny swam in his mind. He struggled to dismiss them and the familiar anguish they raised.
        Reed opened his eyes slowly. He blinked at the bright glow of the rising sun. Every bone in his body ached. He tried to move, only to realize that the effort was somehow beyond him.
        Where was he? Squinting past the throbbing in his temples, he observed faded wallpaper and mismatched furniture that were vaguely familiar. Yes, he remembered. Jenny was dead, killed in a rustler's raid, and he had made it his mission to see that someone paid for her death. He had received a wire saying that Morgan and his    men had been seen in Sedalia. He had made arrangements to come to Sedalia to meet the fellow who had sent him the