January 27

5 p.m.

Okay, so perhaps she was stalling, just as she had the whole car ride over to their new home, but Rosemary chose not to believe that. She was simply… gathering her words. Over an hour ago, Lee came to the row house to change into his work clothes while she gathered the items for making sandwiches and stowed them in a big basket, not once uttering the words that were on the brink of her tongue. They'd driven in silence, Lee's mind obviously on the next big project he had at their new home. Now, here in the make-shift kitchen of their new house, she withdrew the items from the basket one by one and put them on the table. She opened the jar of mustard and began to lather it on several pieces of bread. They did need to eat, did they not? Surely, the news could wait until their bellies were filled with delicious food, although she very much doubted she'd be able to eat a morsel. She placed a thick slice of roast beef on each piece of bread and topped it with cheese. Maybe if she gave herself a few extra minutes to put together her "speech" in her mind it would do the both of them good. She'd simply explain that—

She jumped as the back door shut, smearing mustard across her hand.

"Ah, something smells good in here." Lee went up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle. "And I don't think it is the sandwiches." He nuzzled the back of her neck, his prickly whiskers tickling her yet also alerting her to the fact that she was all out of time.

She turned around, sandwiches in hand. "Your timing is impeccable. Ready for supper?"

She couldn't quite meet his eyes. Her belly quivered with the news she'd share.

"Yep. Sure can't beat your sandwiches, Rosie." He rolled his sleeves and walked to the washbasin where he proceeded to wash his hands.

"Not even Abigail's?" She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Not even Abigail's." He dried his hands as she walked to the door, plates in hand.

"Grab that jar of pickles, would you?" She gestured to the jar sitting on the makeshift kitchen counter.

In unspoken agreement, they both walked to the parlor of their new house, where they found themselves sharing their sandwiches almost daily. It faced south and was noticeably warm with the winter sun, and with it's oversized windows that hung nearly from ceiling to floor they could take in the mountain view and entrance to their property.

After a quick prayer, Lee took a hearty bite out of his sandwich, sounds of satisfaction escaping his lips.

"What did you put in this anyway?"

"I'm glad to hear you appreciate my spicy mustard."

"That's what this is?" He lifted the sandwich, the roast beef flapping.

She nodded. "Yes, a most inappropriate mustard." She smiled remembering Florence's response to her new concoction when she tried to serve it at the cafe.

"Well, whatever it is, it works." He grinned.

She reached for her own sandwich. As much as she would love to sit and enjoy their breathtaking view over a carefree meal, she knew now was the time. Gone were her hunger pangs and in their place, trembles of fear. She must gather up enough courage to at least start the conversation with her husband. She simply must. She was running out of time, and like Dottie said, it could very well be detrimental to their young marriage if she did not tell Lee of Harriet before her arrival.

Rosemary picked at her sandwich and must have been lost in her thoughts, for next thing she knew, Lee was looking at her curiously.

"Okay, so do you want to tell me what's on your mind?" He wiped a splash of mustard from the corner of his mouth.

"What? Oh, nothing really."

Lee gave her a look that said he didn't quite believe her. "I asked you three times if you are excited for your arrival? Obviously something is on your mind."

Her heart went to her throat. He knew of Harriet's arrival? How? Well, he wasn't deaf, and the news had been circulating around Hope Valley for a week or two. He must have overheard someone talking about it. How could she have been foolish enough to wait so long? How would she explain Harriet: Who she was and why she was coming?

She cleared her throat. "Lee—"

"It's coming on the train supposedly around 3."

"Today?" She croaked. By train? Wasn't Harriet to arrive by stage and not for another week at the soonest?

She paled and flat out dropped her sandwich on the table.

"My, what's this? I thought you were excited. 'Waiting with bated breath'." Lee assessed her pale cheeks.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

He didn't look convinced, but shifted back in his seat. "You are sure in a funny mood. That's exactly what you said when we ordered the end tables from Chicago. That you could hardly wait."

"Oh. My end tables? That's what's arriving today? At 3? On the train?"

Lee gave her an odd look. "Yes, of course. What else would you be expecting?"

She cleared her throat. This was about as much as an opening as she would ever get.

"Actually, Lee, there is something I've been meaning to—"

At that moment, a thundering of hooves came down the lane leading to their home, dust flying in every direction. Lee stood up and walked to the window, curious at intrusion. They rarely had a guest out this way, and never one in such a hurry. She stepped up to the window next to her husband.

They watched as the rider came closer, a dark figure on a stallion. After a moment, Lee walked to the desk and opened the drawer, where, against her request, he kept his revolver. He withdrew his holster and gun.

"Stay here." He said, tightening the belt around his waist.

But of course she didn't. She was right on his heels when they heard the voice of their caller call out to them from the front porch.

"Ho there!" Bill's voice carried from the large beast.

Lee opened the screen door, exhaling his breath in relief. "Bill," he said as he walked down the staircase and met the sheriff at the end of the porch where he had already dismounted his horse, "when did you return?"

The two men shook hands.

Bill tipped his hat towards her as she hung back in the doorframe. "Just now. I wanted you to be the first to know: I've apprehended Kirill. It took nearly two weeks, but I tracked the scoundrel down."

"Oh?" She then left the comfort of inside and walked to the edge of the porch to join them.

"Yep, by the looks of things they had been squatted out east near Red Deer, not as far north as Lacombe, for a week or so. All I can figure is they must have split ways, had an argument— a fall out of some sort. There was no sign of Fife, but Kirill, he was a sitting duck. I was able to get the drop on him real quick like. I took him up to Calgary." The pride was evident on Bill's face.

"But Fife? He's still unaccounted for?" Lee's eyes were serious.

The pride vanished from his face and Bill stretched his jaw. "Yep. All I can say is I hope the fellow has better sense than to try to return to these parts."

"So our shop— it can reopen?" She looked hopefully at him.

He shook his head. "Not yet. We wouldn't want to risk him coming back into town. I know it is tough of business, but until he is apprehended it will remain closed. You know, to keep Mrs. Ramsey safe and all."

Her heart sunk. Sure, they were getting along fine running the business from their separate homes but she quite missed seeing her dear friend regularly, let alone the distraction the business at the dress shop gave her each day.

"And Dottie?" She questioned.

"For the time being she's going to sit tight too. Just till we hear of a sighting of Fife way out east or so. Just precautionary stuff."

Again her heart sunk to the floor.

Lee rubbed his jaw. "You said they were out near Red Deer? Is that anywhere near Gull Lake? We've had a mill delivery or two out that way."

"Yep, it's about twenty miles south of Gull Lake. I had to camp out there for nearly 2 weeks, nothing but hard tack and my specialty blend coffee to keep me running."

"Your specialty blend?" Lee grimaced. "No offense, Bill, but that stuff's nasty. I don't see how it could ever benefit a man. I brought some home from the office, and it's still just sitting here in the cupboard. Let's just say my gut didn't agree with the stuff, and that's to put it nicely."

A funny look came over Bill's face. "You tried my coffee? From my office?"

Lee gave him a funny look back. "I didn't think you'd mind if I borrowed a bit when I was acting as sheriff. But you have no need to worry, I won't come near it ever again. That stuff is beyond lethal."

Bill cracked a smile and then began to full out hoot in laughter. After a full minute of them watching him as if he were the looniest creature this side of the Divide, he straightened and tried to compose himself.

"The stash you broke into isn't the special blend I use. I only keep my good blend at home under lock and key. The stuff you drank, that's—" he struggled to control himself, "my criminal blend. It's a specialty coffee only reserved for the most ornery of scoundrels. Works in ten minutes flat. The scoundrel can't hardly remember his name after dealing with the effects of that potion."

Lee's eyes widened at this confession, and Bill slapped him on the back, barely able to talk for the laugher escaping him. "That stuff would make a cow sick."

At the realization that he had consumed Bill's coffee reserved for only the worst of outlaws, Lee looked confounded, but then started to chuckle. "That's exactly how I felt. Like a sick cow."

At this, both the men busted up laughing, knocking each other on the back and saying indistinguishable things. She raised an eyebrow and shook her head at their hilarity.

After a few moments of outright laughter, Lee wiped a stray tear out of his eye, and came to his senses. "Bill, why don't you stay for a sandwich? Rosemary's got this great mustard she puts on her sandwiches, it's delicious. Better than any of the delicatessens out East."

Bill hesitated and looked out west, more than likely thinking he best be getting on to the Jameston's farm.

"A guy's got to eat sometime, right?" Lee said. "I can catch you up on all the things that went on at the office while you were gone. We sure did have quite a week with the brawl at the church. And you could catch me up on what the criminals did to provoke your wrath and deserve a dose of that coffee."

A smile curved onto his lips. "I guess I could use some real food after all that hard tack and coffee."

With that, Rosemary went back to the makeshift kitchen to prepare one of her sandwiches for the newly returned sheriff. Gone was her chance to tell Lee of Harriet and her impending arrival, and instead, the evening would be spent with stories of the hooligans who encountered Bill's criminal blend coffee, and a few compliments on her most inappropriate mustard.