A chilly fog swept over the empty streets of Hope Valley as a solitary traveler turned onto Main Street. He was doing what he loved to do, protecting the town from any evil that might threaten it. In the distance, he heard a sound of a man and a woman conversing. He couldn't tell what was being said, but he could discern their tone – it was one of longing. Suddenly, it seemed to him that the woman screamed – but not a normal scream, a sort of wailing sound that cut him to his core. He dismounted his horse, patting it on its hindquarters to send it away. Newton was a faithful partner, but in situations like this, he preferred to go alone lest the horse's winnowing alert others to his presence. If it were indeed a damsel in distress, silence would be crucial.

The screaming sound abated, and the man's voice was heard again, mingled with the woman's. Perhaps the crisis was over, but then she screamed again. Nathan started to run, but he couldn't reach her. Everywhere he went, she seemed the same distance away as before. Where could she be? Finally, he stopped and listened. He tilted his head. Was the sound really a woman, or was it a screeching cat? An orchestra swelled in the background – hey, wait, where did the instruments come from? Something didn't feel right. He decided to retreat. Quickly, he turned to find Newton and found himself falling. He hit the ground with a thud as he tumbled from the bed onto the floor. As he opened his eyes and reality hit home, Nathan had only one word to say. "Opera."

Nathan pulled himself up from the floor, rubbing an aching hand that had collided with the nightstand. That'll leave a bruise, he thought. He meandered into the hallway, where Lucas's music played louder. For a brief moment, he would have sworn he heard humming. Amid a cascade of melancholy tones, he descended the stairs.

It was the third morning since Lucas had moved in, and once again, he was amazed at the sight he saw. Bouchard was in the kitchen, listening to his Victrola, scurrying about. Nathan watched as his friend carefully ladled poached eggs over top of two English muffins. Behind him, Nathan's kitchen table was partially ready for the morning meal – a bouquet of flowers adorning its center and silverware and napkins at his spot and Lucas's. Grant cleared his throat as Bouchard reached for the paprika.

Lucas turned his head. "Ah! You're up!" he smiled. "Did you sleep well?"

Nathan wanted to tell him, 'Yeah until all that bellowing woke me up,' but he refrained. Looking about the room, he nodded his head. "I slept okay. I take it you didn't go back to bed?"

Lucas shook his head. "Too much on my mind."

Grant walked over to the counter to see what was for breakfast. "Eggs Benedict?" he asked.

"Yes. A favorite of our nanny's."

"Fancy," Grant replied, reaching to stick his finger into Lucas's homemade Hollandaise sauce and getting his hand smacked.

"What did you do that for?"

"It's for the eggs," Lucas said, nodding toward the table. "Go sit down."

"Yes, ma'am," Nathan quipped.

Lucas rolled his eyes. "There's a secret to making good Hollandaise. You must temper the eggs slowly and then add the butter slowly enough to allow for emulsification."

"Is that so?" Nathan asked, taking a seat.

"Yes. Nobody wants scrambled eggs on top of their eggs," Bouchard replied.

"I'll keep that in mind next time I make them," Grant joked. Lucas continued working. "You know it's not healthy for you to miss sleep like this and not eating."

"I did eat. I had some of the Bourguignon last night."

"Not much."

"I had enough," he said, bringing Nathan both a glass of water and a cup of coffee and setting them on the table. "I'm fine."

"No, Lucas, you're not fine. You're looking tired, and you're going to wear yourself down. That's not fine."

"I've missed more sleep than this before," Bouchard said.

"That's not the point," Nathan replied.

"Then what is?"

"Talk to me. I want to know what's going on with you."

Lucas was silent for a few moments, then shook his head. "If I wanted to talk, I would," he said, spooning the sauce over the eggs. "Right now, there's nothing much to say." The room grew quiet except for the sound of Opera.

Finally, Nathan spoke up again. "Stop shutting me out."

"I'm not shutting you out," Lucas said, slapping Nathan's plate down on the table.

"You are, too," Grant responded. "Lucas, what is it? Have I done something? Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"Well, is it that you don't trust me? I thought we'd move past all that."

"Nathan, it has nothing to do with trust. I just don't want to talk. Is that okay? I'd rather work things out in my own way."

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Why not? Worked out so well for you before."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lucas glared at him.

"I was simply remarking that you set up a situation where you got yourself in trouble by shutting down. You're barely out of the woods now. I don't want to see it happen again, that's all."

"I didn't set myself up for anything. I wasn't permitted to talk about it; there's a difference. Where I lived, I was forced to cope on my own."

"And you carried that habit forward and bottled everything up. It's not healthy."

"You're not being fair."

"Maybe not, but my point is accurate."

Lucas mumbled something Nathan couldn't understand and then turned on the tea kettle.

Once again, things grew silent in the room except for that darn Soprano. How could he listen to this stuff? Nathan thrust himself backward into his seat. "Fine. Talk. Don't talk. It's up to you. But don't say I didn't try to help you."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"That's your problem. You never ask for anything."

Lucas picked up a glass of orange juice, then slammed it down in front of the Mountie. "Why are you being so disagreeable this morning?"

"I'm not being disagreeable. I'm trying to help."

"Well, I'm trying to help too. I got up early, made you breakfast, washed your filthy clothes…"

"Yeah, about that…."

"I even packed you a lunch to take with you since you mentioned you'd be going out of town on an investigation this morning. It's Ham and Swiss and a thermos of lemonade that I squeezed fresh this morning. I even added one of those Butterfinger candy bars you said you liked hoping it would make you happy. But do you appreciate that? No."

"Lucas, calm down."

"Calm down?"

"Look. I appreciate it. I told you I did."

"But still, you come down here and start our morning off on this sort of note?"

"This sort of note? Do you want to know who started the morning on a sour note? You! You and this clatter you're listening to. How can you stand it?"

Lucas looked at the Victrola. "Puccini?"

"Whatever. Could you play it any louder?" Grant said.

Lucas furrowed his brow. "I take it you don't care for the opera?"

"I told you I didn't," Nathan took a bite of food. "This is good, by the way. But no, I don't care for it, especially not at six-thirty in the morning."

"Well, I'm sorry I interrupted your beauty rest," Lucas said, offended.

"Now you're being sarcastic."

"Just returning the favor," Bouchard replied as he walked to the Victrola.

"No, don't turn it off," Nathan said.

Lucas gave him an exasperated look and threw out his hands. "What is it that you want from me?"

"Don't turn it off," Grant responded. "Talk to me. If you won't tell me what's keeping you awake, let's talk about this. Tell me, what do you see in this stuff? To me, it sounds like screeching. It's too harsh. I don't get it."

"Really?" Bouchard replied. "You're just not used to it. It's charming." Lucas moved back toward the kitchen counter and explained.

"This Opera is called La Bohème - one of the most famous operas in the world. Father took me to see it when it premiered in Italy when I was eleven. It's about a poet and a seamstress that fall in love; only they face great challenges – extreme poverty being one of them.

The song they are singing right now is where they first realize they are falling in love.

The lyrics are -

O soave fanciulla, bagnata dal chiaro di luna,

Il sogno che in te vedo è il sogno che sempre sognerò.

Con amor solo ha regno sui cuori, Con amor ogni dì ci cinge.

Ah, come dolcemente cade La sua lusinga al cor!

Tu solo regni, o Amor!"

"Translate?" Grant replied.

"Oh, gentle maiden - your sweet face bathed in moonlight, I see in you the dream I want to dream forever. Ecstasy awakes in my heart. We are ruled by love alone,"

Lucas closed his eyes and smiled as the melody swirled around him.

"Huh. That's beautiful," Nathan conceded. "What happens to them?"

Lucas looked up. "Oh, she dies. She gets sick, and he's too poor to pay for a doctor, so the Opera ends with him mourning her death."

"Well, that's uplifting," Grant replied, chomping on another bite.

Lucas huffed, "Well if you're just going to make fun of it…."

"I'm not making fun. It's just not my cup of tea."

"Fine. We'll turn it off," Bouchard said, walking to the Victrola and flipping off the switch.

"Lucas."

Bouchard silently went to fill his own plate.

"Lucas. Now don't be upset."

"I'm not upset. I'm getting breakfast."

Nathan watched as the businessman quietly ladled what was probably now an overdone egg onto his own English muffin and mused about how Lucas had put his needs first before taking care of his own. His conscience began to bother him, and he stood up to help him.

"What are you doing?" Lucas asked.

"Go sit down. You've had a hard week," Nathan said, reaching for the paprika.

"I'm fine," Bouchard said, swatting his hand away. "I don't need any help. Go finish your food."

Nathan watched helplessly while Lucas poured the Hollandaise over his dish, sprinkled it with paprika, and then walked to the tea kettle. Lucas turned toward him. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Nathan replied. "I'm sorry I acted that way. I got up on the wrong side of the bed, literally - and you're right. I am being disagreeable. I apologize. You're only trying to help, and, really, you're doing far more than you need to be doing. Please, let me help you. It will make me feel better."

Lucas carried his plate and teacup over to the table and sat. "Alright. If you insist, there is a jar of pickles in the refrigerator. If you don't mind bringing that over."

Nathan made a funny face. "Pickles with Eggs Benedict? Are you expecting?"

Lucas chuckled. "It's an odd combination, I confess, but the brine helps to cut down on the richness in the sauce."

Nathan nodded and then opened the refrigerator door. "Pickles, pickles…."

"Toward the back, behind the milk."

"Huh?" Grant asked.

"Toward the back, behind the milk. You may need to move some things," Bouchard said, taking a bite of egg. After several seconds, Lucas sighed and then stood up from the table. "Never mind, I'll get it myself," he said. "No need to cool down the whole house by holding the refrigerator door open."

"I found them," Nathan announced, holding up the jar. "Sit back down."

Lucas shook his head and then retook his seat as Grant walked to the counter and retrieved a saucer for Lucas's pickles.

"Where exactly is it that you're going today?" Lucas asked, taking a bite of his now-cold eggs.

"Baker Springs," Grant said, struggling with the jar.

"To see that man?"

"Yeah, the one that made Drake's saddle. Can you get this for me?" he asked, holding out the jar for Lucas to open since his hand still smarted from earlier.

Bouchard took the jar from Grant's hand and opened it with ease, then set it on the table. He then looked at Nathan's hand. "How did you do that?" he asked.

"Smacked it on the nightstand."

"How did you do that?"

"It's not important," Nathan replied.

"Well, it looks like it's going to bruise. Are you sure nothing's broken?"

Grant flexed the hand. "It's fine."

"Do you need some ice?"

"I said it's okay. Eat your pickles."

Lucas nodded, plunging his fork into the eggs and then using the tip of his knife to pull out a pickle. Grant returned the jar to the fridge.

"Well, I would ask to go with you, but I already know the answer."

"Right. It's Mountie Business. You're not allowed," Nathan said, retaking his seat. "Besides, you have plenty going on in town with your parents here."

"They're going to Red Deer for the day. Apparently, yesterday's session was more than Mother could stand."

"Do they know Beckett isn't going to be here forever (thank goodness)?"

"They know," Lucas said, taking a bite of pickle with his egg. "They don't care. Mother is upset with me for moving out of the house."

"She needs to get over that," Nathan replied, returning to his eggs. "By the way, did I mention these are good?"

"You did," Lucas said. "And what was that 'thank goodness?' Are you looking forward to dear Dr. Bennett's return to Union City? Do you not like him?"

Nathan sighed. "He's okay. I was just being. I don't know…."

"Jealous? Over Faith?"

Grant shrugged. "Yeah. No. Maybe. I don't know; ever since he's been here, Faith and I really haven't seen much of one another."

"And that bothers you?"

Nathan tilted his head back and forth. "I guess I don't know where we stand – or if there's even a 'we' there."

"Do you want there to be?" Lucas asked.

"I'm not sure," Nathan said, drinking another sip of coffee. "I want to be with someone, I think. And I like Faith and all, but…."

"But?"

"I'm just not sure. Excuse me for saying this in front of you, but after Elizabeth – I don't want to invest in a relationship if I'm not sure it will work out. Faith's great, but I'm unsure how she feels about me or how I feel about her."

"You will never know unless you take the risk. Ask her out. Nothing ventured…."

"Yeah, well…I think maybe it's okay to stay single. You know what the Mounties say about if we were meant to have a wife, they would have issued us one?"

"Mmm hmm. Now, who's shutting down?" Lucas asked.

"Fair point," Nathan replied, taking one last bite of Benedict. He leaned back and wiped his mouth, and then looked at Lucas's face. "Say…you, um…you have a little sauce on your cheek," Nathan said, motioning with his hand.

"Oh, do I?" Lucas grabbed his napkin and began to wipe. "Did I get it?"

"No, still there," Nathan said. "About an inch and a half from your mouth. No, to the right. No... there. Right there."

Lucas wiped at his face. "Got it?"

Nathan shook his head. "No, still don't have it. Here…let me…." Grant took Lucas's napkin and started rubbing at the spot. "Did you comb your hair this morning?"

"Why? Does it look unruly?"

"Yeah. Pretty wild."

"There was a reason for that expensive shampoo," Lucas said as Nathan continued to rub. "Tames the beast. Did you get it?"

"No. It's like it's dried on. Maybe that's egg. Here, I'll take care of it," Grant responded, licking his thumb. He moved it toward Bouchard's face, and Lucas grabbed his wrist.

"What are you doing?!" Lucas asked as he leaned back in his seat.

"I was just…I was…." Nathan stopped and thought, then leaned back, furrowing his brow. "Um... you'd better…"

"… get it myself," Lucas said, standing up from his seat and moving toward the kitchen sink.

Nathan looked at his thumb and then at Lucas. What on earth was happening?

Florence Yost had just finished making the last of her calls. She had spent the entire morning on the phone with every woman she'd talked to in Hope Valley, explaining that she was wrong about Lucas and apologizing for her behavior. All but a few took what she said and agreed. They were wrong in how they approached things and would drop the subject entirely as Lucas was an honorable man. For the rest, it didn't matter. They lived on the outskirts of town and would rarely see Bouchard. They swore they would not cause trouble. Now, she needed to speak with her husband.

"Ned. Ned, dear. Would you mind coming in here for a minute?" she asked.

Ned finished ringing out the customer he was assisting at the time and joined his wife by the switchboard. "Are you finished making your calls?"

"I am," she replied. "I think everyone has been taken care of. There are just two things left to do."

"What's that?" he asked.

"I need to go apologize to Lucas. But before that, in order to show I'm sincere in my apology, I need to quit my job."

Ned looked confused. "Quit your job? But you own the business, along with me."

"Not the Mercantile," she replied. "The switchboard. If I'm no longer at the switchboard, then there is less of a temptation to gossip. What's it say in the Bible about the virtuous woman? 'She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.'"

"Yes?"

"Well, my tongue wasn't speaking many kind words, and in the process, I hurt Lucas and Elizabeth and my own testimony. If I'm going to repair things with Lucas, I need to step away from what got me in trouble to start with. We need to hire someone new."

Ned nodded. "What about Paul?"

"Blakely? Our son?" she said of her son from her first marriage to Paul Blakely, Sr., a miner who was killed in the disaster ten years prior.

Ned smiled. "He's been wanting to earn some extra money, and you know, the boy barely says a peep. He'll be the last person to want to gossip about what he hears."

"That's an excellent idea!" Florence said enthusiastically. She placed her fingertips on both of Ned's cheeks. "I knew there was a reason I married you."

Nathan picked up his dishes, washing the plates as Lucas dried them and put them away. He then looked at his clock and compared it with his own watch.

"Hey, you fixed it?"

Lucas nodded. "Spring needed tightening. We'll watch it, but I think it's okay now."

Nathan smirked. "You're pretty handy to have around." He turned to go. He walked to the coat tree where he normally hung his serge.

"Um..." he said, finding it empty.

"Oh!" Lucas said, walking briskly to the cast iron stove. "It's over here. I was warming it for you."

"You were…?"

"Elizabeth always warmed Jack's serge before he would go out on a chilly day, so knowing you were going to be traveling. I thought I'd do the same."

"Well, that was kind," Nathan said, taking it from Lucas and slipping it on. "Hey, don't bother about making dinner tonight. I may be late."

"Good to know," Lucas said. "Did you get your lunch?"

"Yes," Nathan said, buttoning the top button.

"Well..." Lucas said, bouncing on his heels and clasping his hands in front of him. "Be safe today. Don't take any unnecessary chances."

Nathan leaned in for a hug. "You be safe too, sweet…." He stopped mid-stream, then pulled away. "Sweet sassafras! I need to go."

Lucas looked concerned, the moment hitting him the same way. "Um, yes…you should hurry on, so you…um…get home…before it's dark?" What were they doing? Both men thought. Lucas nodded as Nathan exited the house, then returned to his Victrola.

Grant walked down the steps onto the street and turned right as if to go to the Mountie office. Then he stopped. He shook his head, looked at the house, and immediately turned around.

Seconds later, Elizabeth heard a knock on the door. She smiled when she opened it.

"Nathan! What a surprise! Is everything okay?"

Nathan shook his head. "Elizabeth, you've got to do something! Something weird is going on."

"What? Is there something wrong with Lucas?"

"Yes….no… I don't know. He's been down there doing things I didn't ask him to do – things like cooking and cleaning…."

"And he's not doing it to your specifications?"

"No. It's not that. Well, and it is… Look, I'm just a normal guy. I get up in the morning, get ready, have a swig of coffee and some toast, and then I'm off to work. Since he's been living there, everything's different."

"How so?"

"Well, after he takes his bath in the morning, the house smells like a perfume factory, he's always playing music, he's been doing my laundry…."

"Really?"

"Yeah! He even starched my shorts!"

"Well, now there's a detail that the whole neighborhood didn't need to hear," Rosemary said through her open window.

Elizabeth put her hand on her hip and stared at her friend.

"Sorry. I'll just give the two of you some privacy," Rosemary said, raising her hands and shutting the window.

Elizabeth returned her attention to Nathan. "It sounds like the two of you just had a lover's spat."

"Shh shh shhhh!" Nathan said. "I don't want to get that rumor started. You know how people around here are."

"Unfortunately," Elizabeth replied. "But what am I supposed to do."

"Marry him!" Nathan said. "I'm asking you…no… I'm begging you to move the wedding up."

"Move the wedding?"

"Look, the guy is ripe for the picking! He's ready to get married. He's already got the whole spouse, parent thing down pat. He just needs someone other than me to exercise it with – and that would be you."

"Let me get this straight," Elizabeth said. "You, Nathan Grant, are begging me, Elizabeth Thornton, to marry Lucas?"

"Yes!"

"My, how times have changed!"

"I'm serious," he replied. "Come on. Do it for Jack! They get along. Do it for your local Constable! Do it for the town!"

"Nathan! There you are!" Lucas said, approaching the porch.

Nathan turned, looking guilty. "Uh, hi."

"Is everything okay?" Lucas asked.

"Fine," Nathan said.

"It's fine," Elizabeth smirked. She turned to Nathan. "I can't really help you with that right now. Everything's already set, and the mail has already gone out. But best of luck," she said, walking inside. "Are you still coming over this afternoon, darling?"

"Absolutely," Lucas replied.

"We'll see you then," she smiled.

"Looking forward to it," Lucas said as she shut the door. "Are you okay? Is there anything I can help you with?"

Nathan shook his head. "No. Not really. Why are you down here?"

Lucas moved his hands from behind his back. "You forgot this." He handed Nathan his hat.

"Oh! Thanks," he replied as the two men began walking back toward Nathan's rowhouse. "So, you, Elizabeth, and Jack are spending the afternoon together?"

"Yes, she wanted to pick up some fabric from Benson Hills, and she wished to pick up some photos of Jack that she had made there for Bill for his birthday. I said I'd take her."

"Sounds good," Nathan said as they reached his porch. "Well, have a good day."

"You do the same," Bouchard said. "See you tonight."

While Nathan rode to Baker Springs, Bill visited the Mercantile to pick up some documents his friend had sent him by wire from New Orleans. There was a lot more there than he expected. Wanting to get through them all by the time Nathan returned, he invited Lee back to the judge's office to help him sort through them.

As the two looked at the papers, the picture became clearer. Apparently, Solomon and Hank Drake were well-known in New Orleans. In fact, they were infamous. Sons of wealth, they had lost it all when the family plantation folded at the end of the Civil War. From that point forward, they had to work menial jobs full of heavy labor. That was until the late 1880s when they began working for the US Treasury at the New Orleans Mint.

Avery thumbed through those records, picking up on this and that until a familiar name appeared.

"Martin Bouchard," Avery said to himself. "That's interesting."

"Didn't Lucas's dad say that Drake worked for him?"

"At the Mint?"

"I think so," Lee said.

"Wonder if this was over money? Bouchard said something about Solomon telling Hank he wanted to get paid."

"Paid for what?" Lee asked.

"Don't know. Keep looking."

Nathan arrived at Baker Springs and spoke to the saddler, who knew precisely who Nathan was looking for.

"Yeah, old man. Hateful cuss," McGraw said. "Big scar running down his face. Heard he got himself killed."

"He's dead alright," Grant replied. "We're trying to finish up our report for headquarters. Anything you can tell me about him?"

"Not a ton," he replied. "Very unfriendly. Bossy."

"Sounds about right," Nathan said. "Any idea where he came from?"

"Not really. He lived up near Pleasant Orchard, about three miles from here, on a farm owned by the Wellesley family. I think he and his wife were renters."

"His wife? Was she about the same age as him?"

"Yeah. She was quiet. Looked worn out too. I got the feeling that living with him wasn't easy. They had some grandkids too. Feral-looking kids. A boy and a girl."

"Really? Their kid didn't live with them? Just the grandkids?"

"Not that I saw. Thought I heard somewhere their son was killed. Got in a bar brawl like his dad. Never heard tell of a wife. Think it's just the old woman and the kids."

"I see. Do you think the wife still lives around here?"

"It's hard to say," he replied. "I can show you where they lived."

"Would you?"

"Sure. Let me get my horse, and we can ride on out there."

Wellesley Farms was about as remote of an area as Nathan could imagine it being and was the perfect spot for an outlaw to hole up and hide. Situated on the edge of some woodlands, there was nothing farm-like about it. It consisted of overgrown terrain, a dilapidated barn, and a cabin, which, when Grant and McGraw rode up, seemed somewhat abandoned.

Grant climbed down from Newton and walked up to the door, knocking several times and then giving up when nobody answered. He was about to return to his steed when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a little girl, about five years old, peeking at him from some brush. Jake spotted her too.

Nathan looked at McGraw and then began to walk toward the brush. The child ran away. He started to chase, but when he reached the side of the cabin, he stopped, hearing the clicking sound of a rifle behind his back. The Mountie raised his hands and slowly turned around.

"What's your business?" an old woman, whom Nathan guessed was in her late sixties but looked much older, said, pointing her rifle toward the Mountie's chest.

"I was hoping to speak to the people who live here. Are you Mrs. Drake?"

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Don't know no Drake."

"Alright, how about Black? Marwood?"

The woman lowered her weapon. "What if I am? Am I in some sort of trouble?"

"Not that I know of, ma'am. Unless you helped your husband in some of his activities…."

She turned and spat. "I wouldn't help that sorry excuse for a man if my life depended on it. Kicked him out of here five months ago and heard he got killed. Good riddance!"

Nathan slowly lowered his hands. "If that's the case, I doubt you have anything to worry about. Do you mind if we come in?"

Solomon's wife looked at McGraw with recognition and nodded. "Only for a few minutes. I need to get these kids something to eat."

Nathan looked to his right, and the little boy had joined his sister. He was several years older. Feral was a good word to describe them as both children appeared dirty from being outside, but he wasn't sure it was from playing. Their hands appeared dirty and calloused, as if they had been working.

"Hi," Nathan said.

The little girl walked up to the Mountie and then stuck out her hand. "Hello. My name is Josephine. But I go by Jo. Yours?"

Nathan stuck out his hand. "I'm Mountie Nathan."

"I am very pleased to meet your acquaintance, Mountie Nathan," she said, causing Nathan to grin. Such a formal greeting from such a little girl.

He turned to the boy. "And what's your name?"

The child began to speak, but his grandmother interrupted. "Are you here to talk to me or the children? Don't suspect their names are any of your business."

Nathan nodded, then followed the woman inside.

The inside of the cabin was not unlike the outside, shabby and poor, but he could tell that she'd tried to make it a home. He watched as the woman walked over to a table and dipped a cup into a bucket of water.

"I'm afraid I don't have many provisions here. But I can make you some coffee if you like. You kids go run on and play."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That would be nice," Grant said, looking around the cabin.

"Might as well sit down," she said. "My name is Lydia."

Bill and Lee read through each page of what was sent, looking for clues as to what happened after working for Bouchard.

"Looks like they were fired for theft," Lee said. "Stealing freshly minted coins over a period of time."

"Well, that doesn't say murderer to me," Avery replied. "In fact, I'm not seeing evidence of any violence. At least not so far."

"But didn't the Mounties say that Marwood, or Drake, or whatever his name was, had kidnapped a girl and killed a Butler in Hamilton?"

"Yeah. Years later. We must be missing something. Keep looking."

"My daddy was a Sergeant in the Civil War – Fifteenth Louisiana regiment, Confederates," Lydia said. "Solomon joined them at Gettysburg and stayed with them through the duration, one of the few that made it home. We married while he was still in the service, and when we returned home, there was nothing left of either of our homesteads. His family, the Drakes, had a plantation that was dissolved when soldiers from the North came down as part of reconstruction. My family, likewise, had nothing left. We had to start over.

Solomon and his brother, Hank, tried their hands at several things. Tried to start a farm. Eventually began working in the city, doing manual labor."

"Do you remember when they worked for the Mint?"

"Yes. Last job my husband held before we moved North."

"Any reason in particular that you moved?" Nathan asked.

She looked away. "My husband was fired for stealing from the Mint. After that, opportunity dried up."

Nathan nodded. "Makes sense. I'm assuming you had your son by then?"

"Yes," she replied. "David was fifteen."

"Did Hank go with you?"

"No. He found work in New Orleans."

"Really?" Nathan asked. "What kind of work?"

"Working for some man," she said. "I lost contact with my brother-in-law long ago. Say, you're a Mountie. Why are you so interested in what happened long ago?"

"Just filling in some blanks," he replied. "I have one other question. Did your husband ever mention someone named Jenny Bouchard? A little girl around six?"

Lydia stiffened. "I heard about the Bouchard girl. My husband used to work for her father, Martin. He had nothin' to do with her killin'. Now if you're finished, I need to get some soup on for these young ones."

Nathan stood. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you for your time."

Later that evening, Lucas, Elizabeth, and Jack arrived back in town. Since Nathan indicated that he would be late, they stopped by the Queen of Hearts to pick up dinner. As they reached the entrance, they stopped when they heard their names from across the street. They turned. It was Florence.

"Oh, Lucas! Elizabeth! I'm so glad you're here!" she said, reaching them and out of breath. "I've been worrying about this all afternoon, and I just had to speak to you before nightfall. I can't have another night like last night."

"What is it, Florence?" Lucas said, Elizabeth grabbing protectively onto his arm.

"I've come to apologize. I've been a terrible friend and have behaved horribly. I'm ashamed of how I've treated you, and I want to somehow make it up to you if I can."

"Make it up to him?" Elizabeth said. "How do you propose making up the way you slandered him to the entire town?"

Lucas reached up and gently squeezed Elizabeth's arm. "Florence, would you excuse us for a moment?"

"Certainly?" a nervous Yost replied as Lucas took Elizabeth to the side.

"I know that it's not something either of us feel like doing, but in order to move on, I think it's important that we be willing to forgive. If Florence is truly sorry for what she's done, we need to let it go. For her sake and ours," Lucas said.

"You're right," Elizabeth replied, again taking his arm and hugging it.

They returned to Yost's side.

"We were just about to go pick up some dinner," Lucas said. "Maybe we can talk inside?"

Florence shook her head and followed them in.

Nathan returned to town and put Newton back in his stall. Returning to his office, he noticed that the lights in Bill's office were on, so he went to pay a visit.

Avery and Coulter both looked up just as Nathan entered and then they looked at each other.

"Just in time," Avery said. "I think we may have something."

Nathan stepped into the room.

"My son Paul is taking over for me at the switchboard. He's a good boy and minds his own business, unlike his mother. I should have never called all those women," Florence said.

"It wasn't that you called the women that bothered us," Elizabeth said. "Had you called and said that Lucas was struggling or tried to organize some sort of prayer for him or anything that was designed to actually help, we wouldn't have minded."

"I know," Florence said. "I was wrong. What happened was so shocking…."

"To us as well," Lucas replied. "It was the last thing I could have imagined doing. Nothing like that has ever happened before."

Florence touched his shoulder. "I know that wasn't something you would have normally done. And I understand that the man you killed was a very bad person. I want you to know that I called all the women that I spoke with, and nobody blames you. We're just so sorry that we added to your pain."

"I forgive you," Lucas said. "You were scared. It was a shocking occurrence in this little town. I don't blame you either."

"But I am to blame," Florence said. "And I'll do anything to make it up to you."

Lucas smiled. "Just continue being our friend. The rest is forgotten."

Florence threw her arms around Lucas and hugged him tight, so tight that Lucas raised his eyebrows, looking to Elizabeth for help. She stifled a giggle.

"What a relief!" Yost said as the Maître d' arrived with the couple's food. "I know you have to be going."

"Yes," Lucas responded. "We need to find Bill Avery before we go home. Do you know where he might be?"

"Yes! He and Lee picked up some information at the Mercantile this afternoon. They were going to his office to sort it."

"Excellent! Thank you for the information, and give Ned our regards," Lucas said.

"What is it?" Nathan asked, taking off his hat and sitting in front of the judge's desk. Bill handed him some papers.

"It's about Hank Drake, a.k.a. Henry Drake. He was arrested on charges of violating the Mann Act shortly after it became law."

"Mann Act?" Nathan said. "Isn't that law designed to prohibit the transfer of women and girls across state lines?"

"Yes. To cut down on prostitution and the sex trade," Bill replied.

"Apparently, this guy's crimes go back at least twenty-five years," Lee said. "All there in New Orleans."

Nathan furrowed his brow. "If that's the case, then considering that they never found a body – might it be that Lucas's sister was just kidnapped and not killed – that maybe she was sold?"

Avery shook his head. "I think it's a scenario we have to consider."

"We need to get down there and talk to this guy," Nathan responded.

"We can't," Bill replied. "He was murdered in his jail cell right before he was going to turn State's evidence on who he worked for. That case remains unsolved."

Nathan shook his head, his mind immediately turning to Allie and how he would feel if it were her. "Well, one thing's for sure. Until we find out more, we can't tell Lucas," Grant said.

"I agree," Lee replied.

"Tell Lucas what?" Bouchard said as they entered the judge's office.

Back on the Wellesley farm, Lydia Drake scrubbed dishes from her family's dinner as the winds kicked up outside. Her mind was reeling over the visit from earlier in the day. He seemed to know everything, and yet he knew nothing. Perhaps it would stay that way.

The door to the cabin opened, and a brisk breeze flowed through the house. Stepping into the room, a cloaked figure removed its coat and turned to shut the door. Lydia looked up, relieved.

"It's kicking up a storm out there," she said. "Did you get everything secured at the barn?"

"Yes. Just in time. We're about to get a deluge."

"Take off your hat. There's still a little soup left in the pot," Lydia said.

"Thank you. I'm starving."

"Don't forget to wash your hands."

"I won't, Nan."

Seconds later, the hot delicious broth was set on the table, providing sustenance for a weary soul. "Was that a Mountie I saw here today?"

Lydia nodded. "Yes. Was asking about Paps."

"I see."

"What's wrong, Hope?" Lydia asked.

"Nothing. I was just wondering. It's not important."

Lydia returned to her dishes, believing her secret was safely hidden, but her housemate hoped for something different. Maybe this was the time.

As a clap of thunder sounded just outside the door, the two children came running from their room.

"Mama! Mama!" the little girl cried. "A storm!"

The woman stood from her spot and embraced them. "Now, Jo, what is it that I always say? If I'm not scared, there's no reason for you to be scared. Now you and Luke run back to bed. Everything will be okay."

The children returned to their bed, and soon the woman followed. Shutting herself inside her room, she said her prayers and then walked to the window, looking out at the rainy night. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, unwrapping the object within, then she held the arrowhead to her heart.

"You promised you'd find me, and you never broke a promise," she said, her jade-green eyes glistening with tears. She kissed the arrowhead, stained with her own blood, and returned it to its place. "After all these years, I still believe you'll come through. Goodnight, Lucas, wherever you are."

Author's Note: WHEW! Pivotal chapter! We hope you enjoyed it. So what do you think? Are Lucas and Nathan the new Odd Couple? Please let us know what you thought by leaving us a review and thank you to the many who have faithfully done so. As an aside, we had already isolated the Mann Act before it recently began appearing in the news. Referring to it here is purely a coincidence.