"I don't like you going there to meet him," Elizabeth said, holding Nathan's hand between them as they sat on the end of the bed.

Nodding, Nathan said, "I know, but you have to remember, before I was assigned to Coal Valley, I was a Mountie in Benson Hills. Allie and I were there for a long time. I'm nearly as comfortable there as I am here."

Elizabeth looked at him from under her lashes, "And you'll ask for help if you need it? From the Mountie office there?"

Nathan held up his hand and smiled, "I promise."

Still frowning, Elizabeth said, "Fine."

Nathan's smile widened. "I've never had anyone worry about me the way you do," he said softly. He gently pushed a tendril of hair away from her forehead. "I like it."

Raising one eyebrow, Elizabeth said, "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, because it's not much fun from where I'm sitting." Before she knew she was doing it, Elizabeth pouted.

Nathan frowned. "You don't need to worry about Dylan. He's really a coward at heart. It's why he's spent so much time running."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't seem to be running anymore, Nathan."

Taking a deep breath, Nathan simply looked into Elizabeth's eyes for a moment. She was right. That was what was making him nervous about Dylan; he wasn't running anymore. Suddenly, Nathan's eyes misted over again, and Elizabeth saw it and moved her arms gently around his neck. "I'm sorry," she said, realizing she may have been too blunt.

"No, I needed to hear that," Nathan said softly, pulling her close.

For a time they sat, eyes closed, just holding each other. Finally, Elizabeth spoke softly. "When do you think you'll be back?"

"Hard to say," Nathan said, kissing the top of her head and standing to finish packing his things into his leather bag. "It really depends on what he wants from me." Nathan stopped and looked at Elizabeth, his eyes very soft and blue. "From us."

Leaning down to kiss her again, Nathan said, "I forget sometimes that I don't have to do everything alone anymore."

Elizabeth sighed. "No, you don't. But I'm not sure how much help I'll be with you all the way in Benson Hills."

Nathan stuffed another shirt into his bag. "You have school tomorrow," he said, as brightly as he could. "The children will be very glad to have their teacher back."

Smiling Elizabeth said, "I'm so grateful to Charlotte for making our trip possible, but I must admit I'm a little worried to find out exactly what she taught them."

Nathan laughed. "Well, Allie doesn't seem any the worse for wear," he said, and then stopped again and took a deep breath. "Allie," he said, gazing into Elizabeth's eyes, his own beginning to cloud.

Standing, Elizabeth put her hands on either side of his face. "One foot in front of the other, my love," she said softly. "You still don't know what Dylan wants." She turned and pulled the last shirt out of his bag and straightened and folded it. "Go find out," she said firmly.

Nathan watched as she expertly repacked his bag. "I love you," he said softly.

She turned and smiled at him, shaking out another shirt. "I know. And I love you."

The train pulled into the Airdrie Station and Dylan started awake. The pistol he had been holding had fallen from his grip and sat on the seat next to him. He reached out quickly and pulled it back inside his coat as a few disembarking passengers walked by, completely unaware.

Dylan rubbed his face roughly and looked out of the window. He narrowed his eyes and sighed, knowing well where he was.

Airdrie. The town where Colleen grew up. Basically a wide spot in the road until you moved further from town and encountered the sprawling ranches and farms that lived in the rich soil on the outskirts of the tiny town.

The Grants lived on a ranch that had seen its ups and downs, mostly due to Archie's gambling habits. Colleen had often said that she was surprised she'd fallen in love with a man who loved to play cards after what she'd gone through with her father. And Dylan was quick to point out that not only had he never gone to jail, but he'd never pawned a single possession of theirs, and they'd never gone hungry.

Dylan knew there was a difference between the kind of desperate gambling that Archie had fallen prey to, and the simple love of the game that Dylan had. He knew that at various times in their lives, Colleen, Nathan and Rebecca had wondered where their next meal would come from, even as they ran a moderately successful ranch. Archie had a way of not only spending profits, but also future profits, which meant that the family was working far too hard just to stay in one place.

Then Archie had gone to jail, and the loss of the patriarch had the opposite effect on the Grants than what one would expect - from the moment the bars slammed shut on Archie Grant, the family's finances began to improve. Rebecca had remarkable management skills, and along with the family's head ranch hand, Charlie, they had turned things around.

Meanwhile, Colleen had gone to Quebec City and Nathan had passed through the Mountie Academy, and both began sending home a part of their pay - until at a certain point, the money began traveling in the other direction. Dylan never asked how much money Colleen got from the ranch, and she was smart enough not to put it in any accounts that Dylan could access. Love did have its boundaries.

Colleen's mother despised him. Dylan knew that for a fact. That woman could give a blistering side-eye that could stop a man in his tracks, and after a while it seemed to be the only way Rebecca Grant ever looked at him. Dylan wondered what she would think of him now. But he had to admit that he was glad he would never have to find out.

And then there was Nathan. Dylan's opposite in every way that mattered to the Grants; hard-working, fiercely loyal and with integrity and honor fairly oozing from his pores.

Dylan leaned his forehead against the cold train window and raised his eyebrows in wonder. In one short day, he and Nathan Grant were going to be face-to-face.

And Dylan was going to ask for his daughter back.

During the long hours on the train, he'd decided that the best way to remember Colleen was to raise their child himself. He had no illusions that he was prepared or equipped to manage this, but he did know that there were plenty of women in Quebec City who would be glad to help, and it wouldn't take him long to find one that he could settle down with. She wouldn't be Colleen, of that he was certain - but Dylan had met lots of good women in his days up north and he'd seen their ways with children.

A little girl of four had to be sweet and pretty, didn't she? Dylan had looked at children on the train, especially the girls in their ruffled dresses and curls. Alice Rebecca must look just like that. And if she was half of Colleen and half of him, Dylan knew that he would come to care for her.

As the train pulled from the Airdrie Station, Dylan closed his eyes again. He was imagining that with some luck, little Allie might even come to care for him, too.

"I won't be gone long." Rosemary looked at Lee and narrowed her eyes. "Don't you move out of that bed, Lee Coulter," she said, her voice lowering ominously.

Lee smiled and put up his hands in surrender. "Not a muscle," he said, his voice still rasping and a little breathy from the pneumonia that had ravaged his body. He was slowly but surely gaining strength and mobility, though of course it wasn't fast enough for him.

Rosemary was still only allowing Hickam a half-hour to update him daily on the sawmill. Lee had to admit that Mike was doing a bang-up job of running the place, and already Lee had given him almost double the pay he'd been making before he'd gotten sick.

There was a new set of parcels that Lee had his eye on, and he wanted Hickam to run them, crew and all. But when Hickam had tried to give him the mapping they'd done of the area, Rosemary had snatched it out of his hands and taken it to the living room. "You can spend your half-hour tomorrow talking about these," she said, scooting Hickam out the bedroom door. "Today's time is up."

Rosie was putting on her hat and gloves. It was almost April, but there was still a morning chill outside. "So you want the molasses ones, not the ones with the raisins, right?" she said, straightening her hat.

Lee laughed. "I'm allergic to raisins, Rosie. If I ate those, I'd puff up like a sausage."

Rosemary raised her eyebrows and said, "Molasses then. No puffing." She moved toward the door and turned sharply. "Not a muscle," she said firmly. Lee just nodded mutely, trying to look as innocent as possible. He heard the front door close and waited a few seconds more, and then swung his legs around and placed them in his slippers on the floor.

Quietly, he moved from the bed to the door, still feeling the slight disorientation of weakness and the lack of movement during the last week. Lee reached the door and looked both ways down the hallway. Not a sound, so he ventured out and peered around the corner and into the living room.

There they were. Lee recognized Hickam's scribbles, each one estimating the volume-per-acre of the parcels. He reached his hand out and lifted the stack of papers from the table, flipping pages and searching for the bottom line.

"LEE Coulter!"

The shock of Rosemary's voice and Lee's weakness caused him to finally lose his balance and he landed on the sofa with a thud. "Rosie!" he rasped, his voice hoarse. "You scared me half to death!" She came around from her hiding place behind a screen and walked toward him, shaking her head.

"Is this what you call not moving a muscle?" She took the plans from his hands and pulled him up. "There's no stove lit out here and it's freezing, and you without your robe?" She took his arm, circled it around her neck and started walking him back down the hall. "What are you thinking? Do you know how sick you've been?"

Lee sighed deeply, finally giving in to his injured vocal cords and barely whispering. "Yes. You keep telling me…"

Rosemary stopped and turned, her eyes stricken. "Do you know how close I was to losing you?" she said softly, her eyes darting back and forth between his. "I almost lost you." Her voice finally broke as her eyes began to fill.

Lee smiled softly at her and moved a dark blonde curl from her forehead. "I know," he said. "You saved me, Rosie." He kissed her gently on her lips, quivering slightly with emotion. "I'm sorry. I should have stayed in bed."

"Yes, you should have," she said, looking sternly at him. She walked him into the bedroom and sat him down on the side of the bed, removing his slippers and helping him lie down again. Tucking the blankets up under his arms, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'll be right back," she said.

Lee smiled at her. "I love you, Rosie," he said in a whisper.

Rosemary smiled and put her hand on the side of his face. "And you know I adore you," she said quietly. Raising an eyebrow, she stood and said, "No raisins."

Lee nodded and smiled back. He listened as she went into the living room, but he didn't hear the door close. A moment later, Rosemary came back into the room and laid a sheaf of papers on his chest.

Lee looked down and saw that it was the volume report of the new land. Rosemary narrowed her eyes. "Because I know you'll go out and get it anyway the minute I leave," she said with a resigned smile.

"You're a good woman, Rosie," Lee said, grinning up at her.

"And don't you forget it," she said as she disappeared around the corner and went out the door.

Newton knew the way so well that Nathan thought he could probably fall asleep and wake up to find himself right in front of the Benson Hills Mountie Office.

"Good boy," Nathan said, smiling and reaching down to stroke the horse's long neck. Nathan reached up and buttoned the top button of his red serge against the cold air. The sun would be up over the mountains in just about an hour, but until then it was frigid in the shade and Nathan could still see the early morning frost on the grass sparkling at either side of the road.

To pass the time, Nathan was trying to calculate exactly how long it had been since he'd seen Dylan. He remembered that it ended with a fight, with Colleen finally standing between them to keep them from coming to blows.

"Stop defending me, Nathan!" she'd said, with her arms outstretched and a hand on each of their chests. "And stop being more outraged than I am about the things Dylan does. It doesn't bother me."

Nathan had finally heard that, and realized that Colleen wasn't upset that Dylan was taking yet another job far from home while his little girl grew up without a father.

Nathan had raised his hands and looked at her. "Fine. I wash my hands of it." He'd walked out and that was the last he'd seen of Dylan Parks. And though he saw Colleen and Allie many, many times after that, he was true to his promise and he never spoke Dylan's name again.

Three years. That was the nearest he could figure it. Allie had been about a year and a half, and at her birthday in August of this year, she would be five. Dylan had missed so much of his daughter's life. So many wonders, moments of understanding, so much laughter and joy in her accomplishments, so many hours of dolls and tea parties and dresses and kisses. So many nights of singing her to sleep and worrying through her colds and tears and frightened stormy nights. So many I love yous...

Nathan reached up and brushed away the moisture that tracked down his cheek in the morning chill. He'd been working so hard to get to a place where he could let Allie go, just in case. But as he rode on through the morning, he knew he would never really get there.

Exhaling in white clouds of mist, Nathan sat up straighter. "Okay, boy. You up to it? I am." He pressed the heels of his boots gently into his flanks, and the horse took off, just as ready for a run as his rider.

Elizabeth watched as the morning sun came through the new eyelet curtains in the bedroom. She still couldn't believe she lived here with Nathan. Since they'd been married, they'd been travelers, and now they were home and she couldn't remember being happier.

The room was still decidedly masculine, and Elizabeth liked it that way. Nathan was in every corner, with his books, and leather straps, and his extra pair of riding boots behind the door. His suspenders hung on hooks near the closet, his hairbrush on the dresser, stray buttons in cups, pictures from Allie, his spare reading glasses (a revelation of marriage and one she cherished). She loved every inch of it just as she loved all of him.

Elizabeth sighed and Allie stirred next to her. When Nathan had awakened early to begin his ride to Benson Hills, Allie had just crawled up into the big bed with her and fallen back asleep under her arm. Elizabeth put her lips to Allie's hair, soft and fine as silk and smelling of the soap from her bath the night before. Her little body was so warm and trusting, her face in perfect peace, pink-cheeked and dreaming.

Elizabeth reached down and put her hand on her own stomach, wondering if she was imagining the miniscule rise there. It didn't matter. She felt life growing and not only that, she felt Nathan there. Part of her and part of him, wrapped in their love. And though Allie lived outside of her, and Elizabeth had had nothing to do with her creation, she knew that the little girl next to her was as much a part of her life as Nathan and the baby they had made together.

Elizabeth realized that she had loved Allie practically from the moment she'd seen her in the saloon that first terrible day in Coal Valley. In the midst of feeling a failure, a disheveled wreck after the night in the stagecoach, and a disappointment to the mothers of the town - Allie had looked at her with bright eyes and admired her hat. Her broken, dirty pink hat.

Pulling Allie closer, Elizabeth felt a tear snake down her temple and into her hair.

They couldn't lose her. They just couldn't.