Nathan sat outside the Mountie office drinking his coffee as Allie played on the bench nearby. He found that being visible was half the battle in getting to know the people of a new town, so he made it as easy as possible for them to find him. His red serge drew people in, and one by one, they were beginning to introduce themselves and tell him about the life of Coal Valley.

Nathan had already deduced that Cat Montgomery and Abigail Stanton were the women to talk to if he wanted any information about the widows and their children. They were like mother hens, making certain that everyone had dinner on the table and that the children were being cared for. They, along with Florence Blakeley to a lesser degree, functioned as a moveable support group, offering shoulders to cry on, a compassionate ear and solutions to their problems. It was even more remarkable because they were dealing with their own grief at the same time.

Nathan knew better than anyone that working through grief was a tricky process, and he gave a wide berth to anyone in the middle of it. He knew that for him it was simply a matter of putting one foot in front of the other and doing his job. For Cat, Abigail and Florence, it was gathering their chicks and caring for them.

Florence was rapidly emerging in Nathan's mind as that most necessary component of any town; its communication hub. The woman had strong opinions and no problem expressing them, and he'd already noticed that she gravitated toward him as the authority in Coal Valley. It was from Florence that he had learned what the widows thought about Henry Gowen and the way he ran his business.

Nathan was planning to let another day or two go by before he went to visit Gowen. Of course he'd met the man and spoken briefly with him as he moved through the town. Gowen had first walked by the Mountie office with his ever-present Pinkertons, one on either side of him, like some kind of local royalty. Gowen had merely tipped his hat and said gruffly, "Constable," as he walked by, not even leaving open the possibility of a conversation.

The second time he'd seen him, Gowen had obviously decided it was time to let Nathan know who was actually in charge in Coal Valley. He'd point-blank said that since the church burned down there seemed to be some gatherings happening out in the grove just beyond the pond. Gowen made it clear that he didn't like the idea of the townspeople assembling without any evident authority present. He suggested it was Nathan's duty to find out what they were doing out there, and then made it pretty clear he expected a report afterwards.

Nathan had a set to his mouth and a way of using his height that could be intimidating to shorter men, and he used it to his advantage as he stood over Henry Gowen on the boardwalk outside the Mountie office.

"I appreciate your concern, but I wouldn't want our relationship to begin on a false note." Nathan hooked his thumb into his Sam Browne belt and straightened up yet another half-inch. "Although most of the men in town seem to be working for you, I'm not your employee, Mr. Gowen. I serve this town, and while you're a resident of Coal Valley, you hold no more weight with me than any other resident. I understand from some of the ladies that the gatherings are on Sundays and that they're for the purpose of worship. Perhaps you might find your way out there yourself and see if any of their teachings are valuable to you."

Gowen had simply blinked at him, and then his eyes had narrowed ominously. He turned to his left and said, "Spurlock?" while inclining his head toward the automobile they'd left in the middle of the street. Spurlock nodded and went down the steps to turn the crank while Gowen got back in. They drove off, leaving behind a cloud of smoke and the incongruous sound of the engine in the silence of the Coal Valley street. It had not escaped Nathan's notice that Gowen's was the only car in town.

Allie suddenly popped up and started running, "Emily!" she called out, as Nathan went quickly after her. He watched as she stopped in front of Emily Montgomery, who was walking with her brother Gabe. Cat was a short way behind, saying hello to Molly and Rosaleen Sullivan as they came out of the Mercantile.

"Look!" Allie said excitedly, showing Emily a wooden dog that Nathan had carved the night before. Nathan loved working with wood, and Allie had dozens of animals he'd made for her. Sitting on the porch of his row house and looking over to the mountains had quickly become a deep pleasure to him in the few days they'd been in Coal Valley.

Cat turned and saw him. "Constable Grant. We were just on our way to see you. I have a concern," she said, walking quickly toward him. Nathan had gathered up Allie by now and was bent down to eye-level, talking to her. He looked up at Cat, asking for just a moment, and Cat nodded and smiled.

"Allie," he said softly, making sure she was focused on his eyes. "You can't run away like that. It's not safe." Allie was listening intently to him. "Did you see the car?" he said, pointing in the direction of the smoke. Allie nodded, her intelligent eyes showing that she remembered. "Cars can hurt you because they go very fast. Please don't run away like that again."

Allie smiled and nodded. "Okay." She raised her eyebrows and Nathan smiled at her. "Go ahead." Allie turned quickly back to Emily and Nathan looked up. Cat had been standing and listening and now a soft smile made its way across her face.

"You're good with her," she said with admiration in her voice.

"Thank you, Mrs. Montgomery. Not sure what I'm doing day to day, but the days keep dawning, so..." He smiled and tipped his hat a little belatedly in his self-consciousness.

"None of us do, Constable." Cat smiled again and patted his arm. "You have a natural way with her. You'll do fine."

"You wanted to talk to me?" Nathan said.

"Yes. The stagecoach is late, and we've been expecting our schoolteacher. I was wondering if you'd heard anything," Cat said. Gabe had gone into the Mercantile and Emily and Allie were playing on the boardwalk with her wooden dog.

"How late?" Nathan asked, making a mental note to get the stagecoach schedule and put it on his wall in the office.

"A day-and-a-half," Cat said, looking down and checking on Emily.

Nathan opened his mouth in some shock. In his experience, when a coach was late, you were talking about minutes or hours at the outside. Not days.

"How often does it come to Coal Valley?" he asked, a frown starting.

"Once a week, usually. Sometimes a little longer. I might not have even noticed this one, but we're anxious to have Miss Thatcher start school."

Nathan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Excuse me. What is the schoolteacher's name?"

"Miss Elizabeth Thatcher. She's coming from the east. We're very lucky to have someone with her education..."

Nathan loved it when puzzle pieces fell into place. He was a natural investigator, which was the reason he was such a good tracker. Right now, the size of the puzzle piece that just fell made him smile, which was slightly confusing to Cat Montgomery.

"Constable?"

Nathan looked at her. "Yes, sorry, Mrs. Montgomery."

Cat looked a little impatient with him. "You need to call me Cat. We're friends now," she said quickly.

Nathan pointed to himself and said, "Nathan."

Cat nodded. "So, Nathan, about the coach? We're worried for her safety."

Nathan said, "Of course. I can send a wire to Murrayville and make sure the coach came through there on time..."

"And if it did?" Cat said, raising her eyebrows. She could see his hesitation. "If you're worried about Allie, we'd love to have her come home with us. She and Emily..." Cat looked down at the two girls playing, "...they get along so well. Emily has two brothers and would truly love to have a girl to play with."

Nathan smiled and said, "That's very kind of you, if you don't mind. We haven't really figured that part out yet..."

Cat nodded quickly. "No trouble. And that way, you can ride out and see?"

Nathan bent down again and said, "Allie? Do you want to go to Emily's house to play for a while? I need to work." By way of an answer, Allie simply turned and put her arms around Nathan's neck and said, "Bye." Then she turned back to Emily.

Cat laughed. "I guess that's settled," she said.

Nathan laughed too. "I guess it is." He tipped his hat again quickly, " Well, thank you, and I'll let you know what I find out," he said, walking toward the Mercantile where the telegraph office was located.

Nathan got his answer quickly from the Murrayville coach depot. Right on time yesterday morning, and yes, there was a female passenger in a pink dress and the frilliest hat to come through town in a while.

Within minutes, Nathan had saddled Newton and was riding out toward Murrayville.

Miss Elizabeth Thatcher. Well, at least now I know what I'm doing here. I'm here to keep a Hamilton princess from breaking a fingernail or tearing the lace of the hem of her dress on a stray nail in the boardwalk.

Nathan knew the type from his time in Quebec City. There were entire details of Mounties called in for protection of the richest men in town and their families. He'd actually been assigned to one such detail and had listened to a girl of nineteen berate a member of the Mounted Police for the place his horse had chosen to relieve himself. And the Mountie was forced to stand and listen while the girl's father stood and watched. Nathan knew there were plenty of very good and kind people who also happened to have lots of money, but the truth was, he hadn't met many of them yet.

As he rode, Nathan thought for a moment about Jack Thornton, probably right now handcuffing a whiskey runner in Cape Fullerton. He wondered how Jack would be feeling making this ride.

But Nathan still knew he'd made the right decision. The question was going to be how to do his job and keep the princess happy.

Elizabeth had never spent a longer, colder night in her life. As she blinked awake at the sunlight streaming through the open windows she looked at the floor of the stagecoach and was grateful she'd finally decided to lie down when it was completely dark. In the bright light of morning, the floor looked as if it had been used as a spittoon for years without cleaning, not to mention the dirt and the tobacco. She sat up more suddenly than she intended and her head hit the handle of the door.

"Ouch!" she said, loudly, channeling the frustration of the last twenty-four hours into that small lever of metal at her eye-level. She pushed herself up onto the coach seat and rubbed her head, waiting until the stars in front of her eyes went away.

The stagecoach had actually been robbed. What Elizabeth had read about in novels and heard from Julie in breathless recountings of news stories from the west had actually happened to her. Elizabeth Thatcher had been robbed in a stagecoach. She shook her head in disbelief.

The bandits' faces had been covered with bandanas, and in any case, she wouldn't have been able to identify them from her spot on the floor of the coach, cowering in fear. She listened to them take her bags and boxes down, and bore the ridicule they gave her clothing, hats and shoes while throwing them like so much rubbish across the roadway.

Elizabeth had listened as they unhitched the horses and drove the coach driver into the woods where the coward ran for his life. One of the men had poked his head into the coach and yelled to the others. "Just a woman!" Elizabeth had heeded the advice she'd been given about wearing no jewelry when traveling, and with her head still covered, she held up her hands so the man could see she had no rings or bracelets on. "Nothin' of value!" he shouted back to his accomplices.

"There's plenty in the bags," she heard another yell back, and she imagined they'd found her purse with all the cash and jewelry she had to her name. They'd ridden off soon after, but Elizabeth had huddled on the floor of the coach for much longer until her muscles were sore, and then finally she ventured to look out the window.

What she saw was her entire wardrobe spread out over the coach road, everything else she had of value gone, and the horses taken. She had the shelter of the coach and nothing else. And she had absolutely no idea of where she was except that she was somewhere between Murrayville and Coal Valley.

Because she didn't know what else to do, Elizabeth began folding her clothes back into her suitcases. It was late afternoon now, and although she was tempted to begin to walk to Coal Valley, she certainly didn't want to do it in the dark. So if no one came along, she would spend the night and then begin walking in the morning in the direction the coach was facing.

Elizabeth had never felt more helpless in her life.

It was so cold that night in the coach that she ended up unpacking many of her things in order to cover herself with them. She was hungrier than she could ever remember being, and though they hadn't taken her greatest comfort, her books, she had no candle. So as the sun sank down, she lay on the floor of the coach and prayed for someone... someone good and kind and not of the robber variety... to come help her.

All through the night she listened to the sounds of animals she'd never heard before and had only read about. The hoot of owls, the howling of coyotes or perhaps wolves, and the fear of hearing the growl of a bear kept her awake for the long hours of the night.

Now it was morning and with the sun, Elizabeth's spirits had lifted slightly. She was alive and someone must have missed the coach by now. There were children waiting to be taught, and of course their mothers would wonder where she was.

Elizabeth knew that help must be on its way. She went to the window and peered out. For a moment she thought the red spot in the distance was a remnant of having just hit her head, but it began to grow and then it was on a horse.

"Oh." She let out a deep and grateful breath and spoke the words softly, like a prayer. "That's a Mountie."