"I came down early tonight." Mae sighed in exasperation. "I can see that we're going to have to do something about you if you keep insisting on visiting."

Kate smiled. "Well, since you're one of my closest friends, I'd say that was very likely."

"And since you don't seem inclined to stay above stairs, we'll just have to be sure you're not bothered." Mae frowned. "Do your parents know you're here?"

"Actually, my father does. He's going to come for me in another few minutes."

"Well, you're not staying down here until then. I'll take you upstairs, and you can wait there."

"That's not necessary," Kate said. "If I'd known you were already busy, I wouldn't have bothered you."

"Hush, Kate. Don't be silly. I just want you away from here before one of these other gentlemen decides he wants your company and isn't as easily dissuaded as our friend Mr. Drake."

"I'll be happy to show Miss Beecher home," Vance said. She smiled at Kate. "Or to accompany you anywhere you'd like to go."

"Oh, no," Kate said quickly, casting Mae a sidelong glance. "I didn't mean to interrupt your visit."

"That's quite all right. I was about to leave." Vance turned to Mae.

"Until tomorrow evening?"

"Come around five."

"Will you be all right? With this Drake fellow here tonight?"

Mae laughed harshly. "I'll be fine. He's a coward who uses his fists on women who won't fight back. I will."

Vance leaned close. "Use your gun if it comes to that."

"If I shot every man who tried to get over on me or one of my girls, the streets would be thick with bodies." Nevertheless, Mae was touched by Vance's concern and equally worried that Vance still might take it upon herself to warn Drake off. The gambler was not a man to be crossed, especially when his pride was at stake. She had no doubt that Vance could use the revolver holstered to her thigh, but she did not want to see her in danger. Certainly not by way of protecting her. If Vance went after every man who might be a threat to her, she'd have no time left for anything else. And Mae did not want to cast Vance in the role of protector. She'd made her choices, and she would take whatever consequences came of them. She could see the worry in Vance's eyes, although her expression was calm. More than calm. Mae imagined that Vance had looked like this before a battle. Unafraid, resolute, perhaps even willing to die. That single thought frightened her more than any possible risk to herself. "Promise me you won't try teaching him a lesson."

"If I did, you can be sure he would not come back around you."

"No." Mae shook her head vigorously and spoke the one truth she knew Vance would accept, even if she did not care for her own safety.

"It can't be that way. Because if the men start thinking we'll fight them on what they want and what they think is theirs by rights, none of us will be safe then."

Vance looked away, her jaw set. After a moment, she nodded sharply. "I understand."

Kate watched the exchange, and although she could not hear the words that passed between them, she could feel the waves of anger emanate from the doctor. Likewise, she could see the barely contained fear in Mae's face. That was one thing she had never seen before.

Although she knew that Mae's life was hard, dangerous, perhaps unspeakably so, it was not something that Mae let others see. The fact that she did not, could not, hide it now made Kate afraid for the first time.

"Please don't let my foolish--"

"Oh honey," Mae said with a tight smile, "you didn't do anything.

The fact that a woman walks into a room shouldn't give every man within sniffing distance the idea that she was put there for his pleasure.

Not even here."

"What's right isn't always what matters," Kate said quietly.

"It should be," Vance said, her voice low. She took Mae's hand.

"If you're sure you'll be all right, I'll walk with Miss Beecher to her destination."

For a fleeting second, Mae pressed her palm to Vance's cheek.

"Go. And don't forget your dinner."

"Oh," Kate said quickly. "I'd be happy to fix something for you at home. My parents' home, that is."

"I wouldn't think to inconvenience you, but--"

"Please, it's the least I can do." Kate laughed. "Although, I must warn you, my mother is very keen to meet you. Undoubtedly, she will wear you out with questions."

Vance considered refusing, because the last thing she wanted was a social encounter where she would have to be polite and conversant.

She'd been using work as an excuse to decline the frequent invitations to tea or supper from patients and new acquaintances ever since her arrival in town. However, this offer was so genuine and Mae's look of relief so apparent that she couldn't refuse. "That would be very kind of you. Thank you."

"Good," Mae said briskly. "Now, the two of you get out of here."

She smiled at Vance. "You be careful, now."

Vance held Mae's gaze. "And you."

v When Kate found Martin deep in conversation at the hotel with Silas, she informed him that Dr. Phelps would escort her home. "There's no need for you to hurry your visit."

Martin looked from one to the other in surprised confusion but saw no reason to object. "Of course, my dear. You may tell your mother I'll be along shortly." He nodded to Vance. "Nice to see you, Doctor.

Perhaps we can talk sometime about the challenges you face out here.

It would make for an interesting article in our paper."

Vance smiled noncommittally. "I'm sure it would."

As they began their walk through town, the only lights that flickered were in windows lit by candles and oil lamps. Kate said, "We're originally from Boston. We've been here just over a year. It's very different, isn't it?"

"Yes," Vance said, her mind still on the encounter in the saloon.

"It's a strange place where men feel the bounds of propriety no longer apply and women have both great independence and none at all."

"Mae is an amazing woman," Kate said. "She's one of the strongest, most capable people I've ever met."

"She is." Vance rubbed her hand over her face. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to impose my ill mood upon you."

Kate laughed shortly. "You've hardly done that. It makes me so angry that anyone would think less of her for any reason."

Vance gave her a curious look.

"Oh, I know what she does to earn her way. Should I be shocked? That a woman would use one of the few tools at her disposal to survive on her own?" She shook her head angrily. "I think it's incredibly brave."

"You are not a typical young woman from Boston, Miss Beecher,"

Vance said.

"No, Dr. Phelps. It appears that I'm not." Kate slowed as they approached the walk to her parents' home. "If I had never come to this place, I might still be closed-minded and unforgiving of things I did not understand."

"Somehow, I doubt that. It takes more than a change of environment to alter who we are and what we believe."

"You're right," Kate said thoughtfully. "It's more than just my coming here. It's that I came here and found myself." She smiled at Vance. "And I found the only thing that matters to me."

"Indeed. And what might that be?"

"Love, Dr. Phelps. I found my love." Kate slid her arm through Vance's. "Please. Come inside and meet my mother."

"It would be my pleasure."


CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Mother, this is Dr. Vance Phelps."

Looking at the women seated in the parlor, their expressions at once wary and curious, Vance sighed inwardly. She knew these women--she'd grown up with them, or women so like them that the differences made no difference. When Kate led her into the parlor and she came upon Kate's mother and her guests, Vance was reminded of the many afternoons of her youth spent in a similar fashion, conversing about matters of no importance and gossiping discreetly about people who were no doubt doing the same about them. Mercifully, she had always had the excuse of her studies to justify taking her leave after a polite interval, and if that failed, Victor could be counted on to fabricate ingenious distractions to effect her escape. Thinking about Victor brought the anticipated surge of pain, so familiar she didn't even bother to try to suppress it. For months there had been nothing but pain, to the point where pain was more natural than anything else she felt.

Now, it was merely the backdrop against which the events of her day unfolded.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Beecher," Vance said. She turned to the other two women and smiled graciously, as if she were once more in the great room of the brownstone mansion in the heart of Philadelphia where she'd been born and raised. "And Mrs. Mason and Rose. How very nice to see you again."

"Yes, how nice," Clarissa Mason said coolly.

"Oh, do sit and have some tea," Rose gushed, sliding closer to her mother on the sofa to make room.

Vance remained standing, waiting for the lady of the house to make known her desires.

Watching the exchange, Martha Beecher was at a loss as to how to react. There was absolutely no doubt that the woman before her was bred to high society. It was evident in every line of her face and every cultured inflection of her speech. Despite the outlandish--even shocking--attire, she stood as if she were at the head of a reception line at a formal affair, greeting the elite of society with just the slightest hint of amused superiority. Oh, Clarissa Mason had clearly underestimated her, but then, how could Clarissa be expected to recognize someone of the doctor's station? Clarissa might be a banker's wife, but a banker's wife in New Hope, Montana, was a far cry from the upper class of Eastern society. Clarissa had undoubtedly looked at the newcomer's admittedly outrageous appearance and no further. Martha stood to greet her guest.