Lily then called Whitehead’s attention to a piece of lace she had been admiring. This gave Beth the opportunity to watch Mrs. Zimmerman again. She quickly learned that her initial estimation of the woman was wrong. By the mixture of fear and suspicion in her eye, it was apparent that Mrs. Zimmerman was not ignorant of the possibility that the Washingtons were attacked by one of their own. The shopkeeper’s wife was terrified. When Mr. Zimmerman joined them a moment later, his pale, nervous expression showed that he was in full agreement with his spouse’s fears.

“Good… good afternoon, Mr. Whitehead,” Zimmerman was able to manage. “Umm… what can I do for you?”

“Nothing, Zimmerman, just stopped on by to see how things were.” Whitehead seemed amused by the shakiness in the proprietor’s voice. Beth noticed his enjoyment of the Zimmermans’ fear with a sinking feeling. Now, with complete certainty, she knew George Whitehead was an evil man. She wanted nothing more than to be out of his presence.

“Do you have our order, sir?” Beth asked Zimmerman. Beth settled the bill and called Lily over to help. Despite Beth’s protests, Whitehead insisted on carrying the packages to their wagon. Back up on the seat, the two Bennet girls took their leave of Whitehead.

“Won’t you come over for dinner soon, George?” Lily begged.

“Well, I’ve been pretty busy lately,” George begged off, “but who knows? I might find the time to come by the place when you least expect me.” He grinned in that lopsided way of his, his eyes still cold, and Beth felt a shot of fear course through her. Whitehead tipped his hat and reentered the store.

As Beth took a moment to settle her emotions, Lily took the opportunity to gaze about the town. “Beth, look!” she hissed.

At Younge’s Saloon, three young women, dressed in the usual style of dancehall girls, were on the balcony waving at a couple of cowboys riding away. Their raucous laughter could easily be heard.

“What pretty dresses!” Lily cried. “Wouldn’t you love to have one of those?”

“Lily! Be quiet!” Beth turned the team away from the barroom and urged them along the road home. “Don’t be a simpleton! You know what those sinful girls do for a living. They’re fallen women!”

“I know that! I know they’re whores,” Lily lightly responded.

“Lily—your language!”

“Sorry. I know those… women are going to the nether region. I do listen in church, you know.” At Beth’s questioning look, she added, “Well, most of the time. I only like the dresses. I’d love to own pretty dresses, one for each day, and do nothing but sit around telling other people what to do. Like Miss Gaby or Miss Anne.” Lily waved her hands. “‘Smith, fetch me some tea!’”

Beth laughed. “Yes, I can just see you. You were made to be a lady of leisure.”

Lily tossed her head. “Don’t laugh! I’m sure I am. It would be just the thing. Oh, what a life! Better than what we have now.”

“Father’s worked very hard to provide for us, you ungrateful creature!”

“Oh, I know, but he’s not the only one who works! Chores, chores, chores. I hate it! We work all day until we’re too tired to do anything else at night but go to bed. Day after day. Feed the chickens. Milk the cow. Churn the butter. I hate churning butter!”

“And you’re so uncommonly good at it.” Beth couldn’t resist. Lily did have the most adorable pout on her face, after all.

“You always say that! Pooh!”

Beth reached over and took Lily’s hand. “Maybe I do. Still, you have to admit our life isn’t so bad. We have food on the table and a warm bed to sleep in every night.” Beth lowered her voice. “Many can’t say the same.”

Lily nodded. “You’re right.” She thought for a moment. “Do you want to ride once we get home? We can practice jumping rails with Buster and Turner again. That’s so much fun!”

“I’d love to, but you know what Father said. It’s too dangerous.”

“Maybe just around the farm? If you ask Father, I’m sure he’d let us.”

Beth thought. “All right, I’ll ask.” She held up a hand at Lily’s squeal of joy, trying not to smile at her sister’s youthful exuberance. “I’ll ask, but it’s up to Father. We’ll be good and accept his decision, all right, sister dear?”

Lily sighed in agreement and then grinned, as she changed the subject back to their original conversation. “Tell me the truth. Wouldn’t you like to live like Miss Darcy? You’ve seen her house. I’ll bet it’s grand, and she has servants everywhere.” Lily bounced on the wagon seat. “Wouldn’t you just love to live in a place like Pemberley?”

Beth nearly choked as she blushed. Lily, you have no idea!

Lily continued. “If I ever get the chance to live like that, I would—oh!”

Beth was surprised at Lily’s outburst, and turned to see what had caused it. Standing outside the Rosings Bank was Kid Denny and a member of his gang—new, shiny badges of authority from Judge Phillips hanging on their shirts. That was disconcerting enough; what made it worse was that Denny was staring at them, an unreadable expression on his face.

No—he wasn’t staring at them. His eyes were locked on Lily. Beth shivered and moved slightly closer to her youngest sister, trying to shield her from his gaze.

“Beth?” asked Lily in a low, frightened voice, one that had lost all good humor. “Can we go home now?”

Beth turned to see that Lily was just as affected by Denny as she. Beth nodded. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll be home soon.”

“I’m not afraid,” Lily protested. “I… I just want to go riding with you, that’s all.”

Beth was not fooled by Lily’s statement, but chose not to challenge her. “Of course, love. Hang on.” Determined to protect her beloved sister, Beth’s lips drew into a firm line as she prodded the horses to move faster.

As the days of September passed, the only sign that fall was approaching was that the days were growing shorter. It was still hot, and the dry season was upon them. That meant dove hunting in Texas, and Pemberley was always a dependable roosting area.

Early on this particular day, a hunting party of Will Darcy, Richard Fitzwilliam, and Charles Bingley worked a field near a wooded area about three miles from the main house. All three carried double-barreled shotguns, but had neither beaters nor dogs. Will did not own any hunting dogs, and he would not use his employees to scare up game. Still the sport had been productive and each man had bagged his share.

“You’re a fair shot, for a doctor,” Fitz observed as the three took their ease, sharing a flask with their lunches.

“Not as good as you,” Charles said. “Did you miss any? I would swear you didn’t.”

“If you think that was good, you should see Fitz with a rifle,” Will grinned. “I’ll bet if we made him use a Winchester instead of a shotgun, he’d still bag as many birds.”

“Naw, you don’t want to do that,” Fitz drawled. “Wouldn’t leave much o’ the bird left to eat, an’ then Miz Reynolds would have my hide.”

“You scared of Will’s cook?”

“Nope. Scared she’d quit him, and then the other hands will get sore and come after me!”

Will laughed. “You’re right about that. Mrs. Reynolds has a lot of friends in the bunkhouse.”

The men continued talking until Fitz suddenly stood up. “Hear that?”

“What?” Darcy started, before he did hear, faintly.

“Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!” came from a distance away.

“Sounds like Peter,” Fitz judged.

Will nodded, got to his feet while pulling his Colt, and fired three rounds in the air. Alerted by the sound, the Pemberley rider found them in short order. Darcy was surprised at Peter’s companion—a very distraught Beth.

“Mr. Darcy,” Peter called as they came to a halt. “Miss Bennet here needs to talk to Doc Bingley.”

“Good God, what’s the matter?” Darcy exclaimed as he half-ran to Turner. Beth’s face was dirty, as dust clung to the tears she had undoubtedly shed earlier. He took the paint’s reins and held up a hand to help Beth dismount. Charles was right on Darcy’s heels.

Beth allowed Will to help her down before saying, “Charles, you have to come home, please—”

Bingley turned white. “Jane? Susan? My God, has anything happened?”

“No, no!” Beth cried in a mixture of grief and frustration. “They’re fine! It’s Lily! She’s gone—missing! We think she’s run away!”

Will had not released Beth’s hand and his grip tightened. “Are you sure?”