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O’Bryan’s message when she heard her new hero returning to the seat beside her.
    “I would have gotten that for you,” he said.
    “You’ve already done more than your fair share of good deeds by relieving me of that man.”
    “Happy to help, ma’am. Colin Wagner at your service.” He removed his bowler. “And you’ll be happy to know I’m not a leaner. Nor do I drool.”
    A smile came despite her. “I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Wagner.” She held his gaze, searching his eyes for any hint of ulterior motive in his kindness or in his humor.
    “And you are?” he asked.
    “I’m Ida Sinclair.”
    “Pleased to meet you, Miss Sinclair.” He returned his hat to his head.
    “You know that man?” She looked toward the seat where Baxter was now collapsed against the window.
    “We’re both from Cripple Creek. I’m a legal counselor there. What brings you to Colorado, Miss Sinclair?”
    “I’ve recently completed course work in a business college.” She tucked the telegram into her reticule. “I have an employment interview with a businesswoman in Cripple Creek—Miss Mollie O’Bryan.”
    “Miss O’Bryan is one of my steady clients.” Mr. Wagner rubbed his smooth chin. “You certainly possess the poise and spunk Miss Mollie would admire.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I doubt you’ll need it, but I’d be happy to put in a good word for you. That is, if you’d like me to.”
    Ida focused on a swirl of soot on her sleeve.
    “Without any obligation on your part, Miss Sinclair.”
    “I’d appreciate that, Mr. Wagner.”
    Colin Wagner began a conversation with the older gentleman across the aisle, likely unaware that he’d redeemed the last leg of her trip.

FOUR

    ell smoothed a plaid cloth over the maple table, then set a quart-sized Mason jar of daises in the center of it. She put five stoneware plates and settings in place, and then stood back to inspect her kitchen. No sooner had Judson left for the mine that morning than she had put her hand to sweeping and cleaning. The nickel trim on the stove her husband bought her last month shone like a mirror. The polished pine flooring gleamed in the slivers of light that spilled in through the paned-glass window.
    Kat and Morgan came to supper every other week. On the off weeks, she and Judson went to their home. They didn’t normally meet on the first day of the workweek, but today was no ordinary Monday. Ida arrived in Cripple Creek today, and a celebration was in order.
    Since Nell had moved into Judson’s home, she’d added yellow calico curtains to the two windows in the main room and the window in their bedchamber. She’d also added the True Lover’s Knot quilt her aunt had made for her to their bed. Her gaze lingered there while memories sent a wave of warmth up her neck and into her face.
    Judson was a good man. Tender and passionate. Fine qualities for a husband. And for a father. She was a blessed woman, and she so longed to bless her husband with a child.
    Nell squared her house slippers with the edge of the quilt and nudged the photo frame on the side table straight. She was pulling the curtain panels back to see if Kat was on her way yet when she felt that familiar searing ache low in her abdomen. Sighing, she sank onto the bed. She’d said a prayer and hoped things would be different this month.
    Help me be patient, Lord .
    “Nell, are you here?”
    Kat had arrived.
    “I’ll be right there.” Nell pulled her mantle from the maple wardrobe and joined her sister in the main room.
    Kat stood near the stove, wearing her duster. “I was beginning to think you’d gone off without me.”
    “On sisters’ day?” Nell smoothed the rug at the entry one last time as she followed Kat out the door. “I was making sure everything is ready for when we get back from Hattie’s.”
    “Morgan’s surgical rooms aren’t that spotless.” Kat giggled, and Nell swatted her arm.
    As they walked past the school yard, a gusty autumn breeze pulled bright