“It feels like a wonderful dream, every time I’m in your arms. I keep waiting to wake up and find out that you don’t really care for me—that this has never happened.” He kissed her fingers to reassure her. She smiled, the heat infusing her body starting to fade. “I’d best get the lunch. Gaby will be here soon.”

Fitz turned his eyes to her. “No hurry. Gaby’s not coming.”

“What?” Charlotte sat right up, pulling her hand away from his. “Why not? Is anything wrong?”

Fitz was on his side, his head propped up by one arm. “Naw. She’s fine. It’s just that Will’s gone to Fort Worth, an’ he don’t want Gaby to leave the house ’til he gets back.”

Charlotte was initially relieved, until another thought struck her. “How long have you known this?”

“Since Monday.”

“And you didn’t get word to me? Oh!” The girl stood up, wrapped her arms around herself, and paced furiously. Fitz scrambled to his feet.

“Honey, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Everything. Oh!” Fitz tried to console her without success. How could Charlotte explain her feelings? It was onething to fib to her father and come early for her meetings with Gaby so that she could spend time with Fitz. It was another thing entirely if Gaby wasn’t there at all. The sensible part of her mind whispered that deceit was deceit, and there was little difference between the two. But a woman in a forbidden romance was hardly sensible, and it would take some minutes before the girl could manage her guilty emotions.

“I’m all right, Fitz,” she said into his dusty shirt as he held her to his chest. “I’d best get the luncheon from the cart.”

Soon the two were nibbling on cheese, bread, and apples, sharing water from Fitz’s canteen. The romantic spell had been broken for now, so they discussed the doings around town.

“Denny’s men are still crawling all over the place,” Charlotte told Fitz. “They walk around as if they own the town, demanding favors from the shopkeepers. Mrs. Zimmerman’s told me she can’t keep sweets in stock.” She noticed the concern and anger on Fitz’s face. “Oh, they leave me alone, don’t worry.”

“Like hell I won’t! What makes you so sure you’re safe walkin’ the streets?”

“Besides being the sheriff’s daughter? They’ll have to notice me, first. Being plain has its advantages.”

“You ain’t plain,” Fitz said with conviction and not for the first time.

Charlotte smiled. “I’m glad you think that.”

Fitz grimaced. “Humph. I reckon I ought to be grateful them bushwhackers must be blind as well as greedy,” he said without a smidgen of counterfeit praise. Charlotte was amused, gratified, and just a little mystified at this continued evidence of her boyfriend’s admiration. “You sure you’re safe?”

“Absolutely.”

Fitz sighed. “I still don’t like this. What’s your paw doin’ about it?”

“He’s had words with Judge Phillips, and he’s been told that they’ll be reined in. Besides, there’s not much he can do if the folks won’t swear out an official complaint. They’re scared of Denny, and they won’t, so all Paw and his deputies can do is try to keep an eye on things.”

Fitz tossed an apple core into the woods. “He ought to do more,” he grumbled.

“With what? Fitz, there’s only the three of them. How can he go up against Denny? He’s outnumbered four-to-one.”

Fitz paused. “I suppose they ain’t spendin’ a whole lot o’ time lookin’ for Miss Lily.”

“No. Ever since they found her horse, they’ve given up on the search, no matter how much they claim otherwise. Paw’s busy watching Denny, and…” She looked away. “Fitz, do you really think Lily can be found?”

“I don’t know, but Will says we gotta keep an eye open for her. He promised the Bennets he wouldn’t quit, an’ he won’t until she’s found, alive or… well, until she’s found.”

Charlotte sighed. “Mr. Darcy must really love Beth.”

“I reckon so. Why he don’t just ask th’ girl to marry him is just plumb loco.”

Charlotte looked at her sweetheart through her eyelashes. “So, you think a man in love ought to propose to his intended?”

Fitz’s sardonic grin faded. “I do if’n he thinks th’ girl in question will give him the answer he wants.” His eyes bore into hers. “For example, would she marry without her father’s approval?”

Charlotte felt her tears rising. “Fitz, I… I…”

“Shush, sweetie,” he said as he gathered her into his arms. “We’ll just give him a little more time to accept us.” He grinned without humor. “A little more time.”

“But what if he never comes around?”

“Then we got us a decision to make.”

Charlotte wasn’t fooled by Fitz’s use of the word “us”—it was she who would have to decide between father and lover. The unfairness of it all threatened to cause her unshed tears to fall.

“I’d best be getting back home,” she said to cover up her distress. Fitz refused to release her hand.

“Can you come next week? As long as it’s safe, I mean.”

Charlotte knew she shouldn’t. “Of course.”

The man behind the desk rose from his chair upon Darcy’s entrance into the office. “Good evening, Mr. Darcy,” said the middle-aged, well-dressed man as he walked around the desk, hand held out in greeting. “I hope I can answer any questions you may still have after the presentation this afternoon.”

“I’m sure you can, Mr. Knightly,” answered Darcy as they shook hands. Knightly suggested they take a seat around a small table in one corner of the office. As Darcy made himself comfortable, he surveyed both the office and the man who occupied it. The room was ten feet square, not overly large for such a place in Fort Worth. The furnishings were in good condition but showed a bit of age. A bookcase with glass doors was against one wall, and next to it was a large safe. The room was neat, but not overly so. The small pile of papers on the desk and the stack of maps in one corner were proof it was the working office of an organized mind and not a set on a stage.

Knightly, too, he judged. He had heard of the Knightly brothers, John and Gabriel. They had worked as assistants on several railroad projects, but this was their first time setting up their own syndicate. The man who sat opposite him was open and calm. John Knightly had answered all questions at the presentation with confidence and honesty. What he knew, he shared; and if he or his brother didn’t know the answer, he said so. Darcy felt he could trust them.

The project was interesting: a proposed new railroad between Fort Worth and Abilene, Texas. Darcy had been one of a number of potential investors invited to the meeting. The large amount requested was not daunting; he had made such investments before, and the brothers owned an excellent reputation. Normally, he would have just made a decision in the quiet of his hotel room after reading the prospectus, but this project had electrified him—and for more reasons than being just another in a line of promising investments.

“Now, sir, how can I be of service?” John Knightly smiled, his hands clasped on the tabletop.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice. Your presentation was intriguing, to say the least.” That was an understatement; Darcy was shocked silent when the plans were revealed. It was as if a great fog had lifted from his eyes only to reveal a horrible suspicion.

Knightly laughed lightly. “I imagine so, as we’ll be running the rail line right through your property. But we want more than to purchase the right-of-way. We need visionary investors to carry this new company forward. I hope you will join us.”

“Before I can make up my mind, I must ask to see the maps of the proposed railroad, particularly those of Long Branch County.”

“Of course. Excuse me.” Knightly walked over to the safe and worked the combination. He opened the door and extracted a stack of documents, which he carried back to the table.

“We’ll spread the right map out here,” he said. “As you can see, we take no chances. Security is very important.”

Darcy understood that. Should speculators learn of the proposed route, they could buy up the land in advance and charge excessive amounts for the rights. The correct map was found and Knightly opened it up. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

“Sir?” A thin, short man stuck his head in. His nose was more prominent than his chin and he spoke with a nervous stammer. “Would you want me to make some coffee for you and the gentleman?” His large eyes seemed to be fixed on the table instead of his employer.