Keep those reviews coming!!

"Rebecca!"

"Jack!" Rebecca hurried forward to greet the older man who had just descended from the train. It was Monday morning and the start of a new week.

He enveloped her in a bear hug, "My how you've grown up." He then held her away from him and admired her, "You look just like yer Ma did when she was your age. It's like…like looking back in time."

Rebecca smiled at her godfather, "It's so good to see you again. It's been too long."

"And whose fault is that?" he wagged his finger affectionately at her, "I ain't the one whose been hiding away in Boston all these years."

"I know," she ducked her head, "I'm sorry. I should have come back home more often. Then perhaps I wouldn't be in this mess." She sighed heavily and looked at him, "I'm so glad you're here."

"What are godfathers for if not to help their goddaughters out in times of need?" Jack said, "So, how bad is the farm?"

"Better than it was six weeks ago," she replied honestly, linking her arm through his and leading him towards the wagon, "I've managed to restore it to some form of normality with a lot of help from my friends…but it's the business side of things that still worries me. I only have another few weeks to pay everything back to Preston."

"Preston? That the arrogant banker you wrote me about?"

"Oh no he's not…I mean…he really isn't as black as I painted," she felt herself blushing, recalling the angry letter she had penned to Jack several weeks earlier. "In fact, he's been very good about the whole thing." Jack looked at her disbelievingly, "really he has. But I don't want to go back on a written promise. I need to have the money by the end of this month and, more than that, I need to know that I can keep bringing in the money and make the farm work."

Jack looked at her, "You may look like your mother, Rebecca, but you have Angus' steely determination." He shook his head, "Wonders will never cease."

"Will you help me?"

"Of course I will. Take me on up there and I'll figure out how best we go about making this business idea of yours work."

Rebecca grinned and allowed him to help her into the wagon. Once he was beside her, she lifted the reins and began driving out of town and towards the farm. "I don't suppose you know what happened to Henry?" she asked.

"Nope," Jack shook his head, "fact is, one day I just stopped getting his letters. I wrote and wired, but no response. Perhaps if I had been more vigilant I could have been out here long before now helping you. I should have been the one to tell you about the farm, not some banker's letter."

"It wouldn't have mattered how I'd found out," she replied, "it still would have been a shock."

"I never did like him."

"Who, Henry?"

Jack nodded, "There was something about him that I could never put my finger on. But your father thought the world of him and I never could make him see things from my point of view."

"Father was stubborn," Rebecca said, "and he always thought he was right."

"Usually he was," Jack said, "just not about this." A few moments later they were pulling up in front of the farm, "It don't look too bad."

"You should have seen it before," Rebecca said, as he helped her down, "It's made a vast improvement."

"Good size of land," Jack observed, "you should be able to get a good head of cattle in here."

"You think so?"

"Sure. I got about thirty I could let you have."

"Thirty?! I didn't think that many…I mean to start with…"

"You need to think big," Jack said, "you've got debts to pay, remember? I can have them here in a couple of days. You milk 'em and sell it. Then you sell the cattle to the slaughter, buy more cattle. That's how it works. That's how you get the farm back up and running."

"I'm not sure I could afford to pay you for thirty cattle…"

"I didn't say nothing about getting paid."

"But I have to pay you!" Rebecca exclaimed, "I can't let you just give me them!"

"I'm your godfather, Rebecca, and I'm supposed to take care of you."

"I don't need…"

"I know that!" He looked at her, "but the least I can do is help you get started. Thirty cattle, no payment, no questions asked. Deal?" He held out his hand.

Rebecca shook it, "Deal."

"Good," he clapped his hands, "now, let's see if you make tea as good as your mother did."

XXXX

By Monday evening, Preston reckoned he was two-thirds of the way home. Another two hours would see him in Denver and then, after a short overnight stop, another day would take him back to Colorado Springs and back to Rebecca.

After he had finished packing in Boston, he had slipped out of the back door, keen to avoid the shouting match that he could hear taking place in the drawing room. Albert Draper had been yelling loudest of all and he also thought he heard Helen crying. He felt guilty at having caused so many problems but, as James had pointed out, he only had one shot at life. He had to find out if that shot was to be with Rebecca.

He had thought about her the whole journey so far. It seemed as though every dark-haired woman on the train looked like her, every voice sounded like her voice. When he had slept, it had been her face he had seen in his dreams, her touch he had felt…then he had woken with a start, as if embarrassment could somehow creep its way into one's subconscious.

The weather had been somewhat intermittent. Bright Fall sunshine had bid him farewell from the city, but as the train had continued west it had been hit by high winds and the occasional rainstorm. Safe in his carriage, Preston had looked out at the lightening and the trees bending under the weight of the wind and had hoped that such weather hadn't hit Colorado.

Checking his pocket watch again, he saw that it was almost seven o'clock. The sky outside was dark and the wind whistled around the windows. The train itself was fairly quiet. There were two elderly ladies sitting in his carriage and he happened to know from taking a short walk down the passageway that the other carriages were equally as empty.

"Do you live in Denver?"

A voice from across the carriage brought him out of his reverie. Looking over, he saw one of the two elderly women looking at him intently. "I'm sorry?"

"I asked if you lived in Denver."

"Oh, no," he replied.

"Passing through?"

"Yes, I'm going home." The very word 'home' brought a warm feeling.

"And where might that be?" she asked, watching him from over her glasses.

"Anne, do be quiet," the other woman said, lowering the book she was reading. "Leave the young man alone. He doesn't want to be bothered with your twittering chat."

"Not at all," Preston laughed, "I don't mind. I live in a town called Colorado Springs."

"Oh yes, I've heard of it!" the woman named Anne said, "I do believe it's a very charming place."

"It is," Preston replied, "very charming."

"Have you lived there long?"

"Only a few months."

"And what do you do there?"

"Anne!" the other woman said again, "I must apologise on behalf of my sister. She is uncommonly nosy!"

"Really, it's fine," Preston reassured her, "I'm the local banker. Preston A. Lodge III." He held out his hand and Anne shook it, an impressed expression on her face.

"Anne Cleary, pleased to meet you," she said. "This old grump is my sister Nina." Nina raised her eyebrows in some form of greeting. "We're visiting our niece in Denver. She's just had a baby."

"How delightful," Preston said, "boy or girl?"

"A boy," Anne said, "Henry Willard Cleary. Isn't that a fine name?"

"A very fine name," Preston agreed.

Nina grunted, "Too fancy if you ask me."

"Well she didn't," Anne pointed out. "I'm really looking forward to seeing him. And dear Maria of course."

"Of course."

She leaned forward, "And are you returning to a wife in Colorado Springs, Preston A. Lodge III?"

"No," he replied truthfully.

"But there is someone?" Anne pressed.

"There is someone," he admitted, thinking the woman must be psychic.

Anne clapped her hands together, "Young love! And how long have you been courting?"

"Well, we're not exactly…"

"You can't ask him that!" Nina exclaimed, finally putting her book down and giving them her full attention, "that's private, Anne, you should know better!"

"He doesn't mind, do you Mr Lodge?"

"Preston," he said automatically, "and no, to be quite truthful, I don't mind a bit." Perhaps it was the realisation of his feelings for Rebecca that made him almost bursting to tell someone. "We're not courting, yet. But I hope that we soon will be. In fact," he leaned in closer as though revealing a deep secret, "I'm returning home to confess my feelings to her."

Anne gasped, "How romantic!"

"How do you think she'll respond?" Nina asked, trying to look as through she wasn't interested.

"I'm hoping that she'll welcome them," Preston replied.

"As if she could refuse a handsome young man like yourself!" Anne exclaimed. "And are you going to ask for her hand?"

"Give him a chance, Anne," Nina said. Preston paused. He hadn't quite thought that far ahead yet. His only goal so far had been to get back to town and let Rebecca know how he felt. Marriage, while the obvious next step, he hadn't yet considered. "You see?" Nina continued, "Now look what you've done. He's obviously not ready for that step yet. And why should he be? Marriage is a serious commitment."

"Said by one who has never been married herself," Anne commented wryly. She looked hard at Preston. "Well?"

He looked at her, "I suppose I shall, in time."

"Oh you mustn't wait," Anne advised, "You must do it as soon as possible, lest you run the risk of her falling into the arms of some other young gentleman."

Nina rolled her eyes, "Don't listen to her, Mr Lodge. You take your time." She reached over and patted his knee, "All in good time, all in good time."

Preston sat back in his seat and glanced out of the window. A wife. A wife and a family. It was what one did. It had been precisely what he had been planning to do with Helen. It was what was expected. He just hadn't thought that far ahead. But of course it was the perfect thing to offer. How could a man confess his feelings to a woman without giving her the promise of a future? It was exactly what he would do. He would tell Rebecca that he loved her and ask her to marry him. Then they would be married and he would run the bank and the new hotel once it got off the ground while she would stay at home and raise their many children. It would all be so simple, so straightforward, so perfect. What could possibly stand in the way?

XXXX

"And then we fell over and I nearly crushed her to death. It's a wonder she's still breathing today!" The assembled party at Grace's laughed as Loren recounted his story from the sweetheart's dance. "You're lucky she was here to meet you from the train."

This last comment was directed at Jack who laughed heartily, "She always was a menace on the dance floor, even as a child."

"Believe me I remember," Loren said, "I never could get a moment's peace at these things without Rebecca dragging me up there for another turn around the floor."

"Stop it!" Rebecca begged as she laughed, "I don't recall this evening being billed as an opportunity for everyone to comment on my shortcomings!"

"Aw I'm only teasing," Loren said.

"It was a lovely evening," Michaela said from where she was sat at the end of the table, "Wasn't it Sully?"

"Sure," Sully replied, "even though I ain't one for dancing."

"You certainly did your part, Sully," Rebecca said, "you even dared to take a turn with me."

"An experience I ain't likely to forget in a hurry." He smiled at her as Rebecca made a face at him.

"I wish I'd been there," Myra spoke up wistfully, "sounds like you all had a wonderful time."

"How is Samantha?" Michaela asked.

"She's getting better. She ain't fussing as much as she was."

"You should bring her back to the clinic tomorrow, let me take another look at her."

"I will Doctor Mike, thank you," Myra replied, "ain't like I have to go to work or anything."

"When's Preston getting back?" Sully asked.

Rebecca looked up quickly at the mention of his name and glanced over at Myra who shrugged her shoulders.

"Don't know. Soon I hope. I really enjoy working there and mixing with folk…I know it ain't a really glamorous job like being a doctor or anything but…it's my job and I like it." She looked up, "I'm good at it."

"Of course you are," Michaela encouraged her. "Believe me, Myra, being a doctor is not glamorous."

Rebecca tuned out of the rest of the conversation. It didn't sound as if anyone knew what was happening with Preston, whether he would be returning to town or not. The ache began again, the one she had tried so hard to banish this last week or so. The one which gnawed at her gut and at her heart. How she longed to see him, just see him, nothing more. She didn't dare to think about more, couldn't think about more. As long as he was back in town, where she could see him from time to time…that would do. It was all she could ask for.