Elizabeth opened her eyes slowly and for a moment, she had absolutely no idea where she was. The sun was streaming in the window and the white eyelet curtains fluttered on a soft breeze. She started to stretch and then thought better of it, as every muscle in her body sent reminders of the cold night on the floor of the stagecoach after a week of bumpy dirt roads.

Slowly, the memories filtered in. First, the kindness of Abigail Stanton as she'd tucked her into this soft, cozy feather bed after warming water for her bath and leaving her to soak blissfully, dozing until the water turned cool.

Elizabeth had come to appreciate things that she'd never even thought about appreciating before. A hairbrush, a washcloth, a toothbrush, this lovely quilt and the pure white sheets and pillowcases...

The teacherage.

Elizabeth's eyes flew open and her breath caught. I burned down the teacherage. She hadn't yet taught for one day in Coal Valley and she already owed them the cost of an entire building. And the cost of a sandwich and coffee at the saloon.

The Mountie.

Now the memories were coming so fast that Elizabeth pulled the quilt up over her head to see if she could stop them. It didn't work. Elizabeth was having such a hard time separating what was real from who she knew herself to be – had she really thrown her arms around Constable Nathan Grant and cried into his red serge? Could that person be the Elizabeth Marie Thatcher she knew?

But the more disturbing question was: had it really felt as good as I remember?

What had he said to her that had finally made her feel better? If there was ever a building that needed burning down, it was that one. She could still hear his voice, magnified in her ear right against his chest. Elizabeth touched her cheek, remembering the soft scratch of the red serge, and then his hand, with his thumb moving slowly across her skin, feeling truly safe for the first time all day...

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, Elizabeth's mind went to Charles Kensington. The man she knew her mother had hoped would be courting her right now, the man who worked for her father and was everything William Thatcher could desire in a son-in-law. The man she had never cared for as more than a friend, and never would. Elizabeth had left all that behind, and though she hadn't thought much about it, she realized now that she hadn't only come here for a job. What Elizabeth really expected to do was to find her life here in the west.

Even as her friend, Charles had never understood her desire to come to Coal Valley. And she suspected he thought, they all thought, she would be back on the next coach. What they were forgetting - her father, her mother, Viola and Charles – was that a Thatcher doesn't shrink from a challenge. And Elizabeth thought if she could survive yesterday, she could survive anything.

For a moment, Elizabeth smiled, trying to think of Charles Kensington in Coal Valley. Then she giggled, imagining his reaction to the outhouse she'd used at the teacherage. At least that was still standing, she thought. I didn't burn everything down.

Elizabeth threw back the covers and sat up, but she did it a little too quickly. Reaching back, she felt a small bump on the side of her head where she'd come into contact with the door handle on the stagecoach. Then she looked at her hands and could see that the bath hadn't fully cleaned the soot from under her fingernails.

You're definitely not in Hamilton anymore, Elizabeth.

She'd tried so hard to put out the fire, but she hadn't realized that throwing an entire bucket of cold water on it would do nothing but send it flying sideways. That's when the curtains caught fire, and then the dresses she was trying to dry... it had all happened so quickly. Finally, she had run for her life.

And she'd stood there, watching the flames, and feeling more alone than she'd ever felt in her life. Until a kind voice filtered through the fog she was in. The insufferable Mountie, who, as she looked back at it, turned out to be a very good person who was there every time she needed him.

Elizabeth sighed, wondering why life was never simple.

She brought the brush through her curls a little too forcefully. Right now she had more important things to think about. She was teaching school in two days. In the saloon.

For a short time while Elizabeth soaked in the bath, Abigail stayed nearby. Most likely because she was afraid I might drown if I was left alone for a minute, Elizabeth thought, shaking her head. This was not the first impression she wanted to make. Abigail had continued to tell her not to worry, and then she had shared something with Elizabeth that had rocked her to her core. Something the Superintendent of Schools had neglected to tell her before she took the position.

Forty-seven men had died, just three months ago. And among them, Abigail's husband and son, Mrs. Montgomery's husband, and Mrs. Blakeley's husband. Remembering the three women standing on the other side of the table in the saloon yesterday, she had thought of them only as mothers. But they were also widows. And Abigail had lost a child as well. And there Elizabeth was, mourning the loss of her pink hat.

Elizabeth sighed, remembering her mantra: "I am Elizabeth Thatcher. I am a strong, independent, capable woman. I can face any obstacle with courage, grace and dignity." She knew she had so much to learn from these women about strength and dignity. And as she lay in the cooling water of the bath, she had vowed that she was going to be worthy of the trust of these women and this town.

Elizabeth looked over at the closet and saw the three dresses that Abigail had hung there for her. Also the shoes on the floor, which she could already see would be too small. The hats above the dresses were both straw, with very little embellishment.

Elizabeth smiled. She would need to get some new clothes, or perhaps have Julie send some of her cotton dresses from Hamilton, but she did admit she liked the look of the things Abigail had set aside for her. And as Constable Grant had told her in their first few minutes together, she really did need to get another pair of shoes.

Elizabeth closed her eyes. She didn't seem to be able to keep her mind off of that Mountie. And now she was struggling to remember what he'd said when he'd walked around Florence Blakeley, again coming to her rescue when she'd realized she had no money. He hadn't called Allie his daughter. Elizabeth thought he'd said she was his niece. Perhaps she was visiting?

As she pinned back her hair, Elizabeth realized she knew nothing about Nathan Grant. He knew everything about her, and for all she knew, the man could be married. After all, yesterday he'd done nothing but his job. Well, perhaps chopping the wood was a little above and beyond, but maybe that's a tradition in Coal Valley, that newcomers have their wood chopped by... the Mountie.

And then there was the matter of that embrace, which had been entirely her doing. The man was simply trying to comfort her. For all Elizabeth knew, that was also a part of the job of Mountie in a town as small as Coal Valley.

Frowning at herself in the mirror, Elizabeth took a deep breath and put both hands on the dressing table. This has to stop, she whispered to her reflection. Focus, Elizabeth. Your priority is your job, and while you're doing that, you need to make sure that no one in Hamilton ever doubts your resolve again. And that means as little contact as possible with the Constable of Coal Valley.

Nathan's job had become considerably more complicated. And not just by the fact that the young lady he was supposed to protect was clearly not going to allow him to do it.

There was the usual required paperwork with the determination that the teacherage, a town building, had burned down by accident rather than by arson. More importantly, there was a stagecoach robbery to investigate, and it would require coordination with the Murrayville Mountie office. The day after tomorrow, school would be starting, and Nathan would need to make arrangements for Allie to be cared for while he accomplished all this.

Nathan looked down at the piece of wood in his hand. It was looking less and less like a rabbit the more he thought of Miss Elizabeth Thatcher. Already he was thinking he would need to make this into something much smaller, like a mouse, because he had carved a little too deeply.

He couldn't seem to get her face out of his mind. Her eyes full of tears, her face sooty and streaked, looking up at him with her chin on his chest and her arms tightly around his waist. It had barely been twenty-four hours since he'd laid eyes on her, and now she was so much a part of his thoughts he couldn't even remember what he'd thought about yesterday at this time.

Nathan looked again at his carving. Definitely a mouse. Setting the wood and his knife aside, Nathan looked out over the meadow in front of the row houses. It was Saturday, and although he planned to spend time in the office later today, it was too beautiful a morning to waste.

"Allie?" he called inside the front door. She popped her head around and smiled at him. She had her dolls set up in such a way that Nathan wished it wasn't such a long time until Christmas. He already had the plans in his head for a dollhouse he was going to make for her, but before that, he would need to build a shed in the backyard that he could use as a wood shop.

"It's a pretty day. Do you want to take a ride on Newton?" he asked her. She grinned back at him and nodded.

"Can Emily come?" she asked. This question came as no surprise to Nathan, because it was what she asked now for every activity.

"No, sweetie, let's let Emily spend some time with her family. Maybe tomorrow, after church. Okay?"

"Okay," Allie said, sitting down on the floor and starting to pull on her boots.

"Here, let me help you," Nathan said, reaching down.

Allie pulled her foot away and said, "No! I do it."

Nathan laughed and shook his head. "I'm surrounded," he said softly. "By women who don't need my help."

Elizabeth had slept until nearly noon, and by the time she came downstairs, Abigail had already done the washing and hung it out to dry, and then canned twelve jars of peaches. They smelled so good that Elizabeth was ready to open up a jar and eat the whole thing herself.

"Morning," Elizabeth said.

Abigail looked up and grinned. "I'm afraid you've missed the morning entirely. You must have needed sleep."

Elizabeth sat down at the kitchen table. "I don't think I slept a wink out in that stagecoach. I kept hearing animals..." She looked at Abigail, washing the large pot from the peaches, and saw her own nightgown out on the line drying in the breeze. She looked down at her hands. "You must think me silly and incompetent," she said softly.

Abigail stopped what she was doing and looked at Elizabeth. "Not at all." She smiled. "I would say you had a very bad day."

Elizabeth laughed in spite of herself. "Yes. I would agree with that." She looked earnestly at Abigail. "I will reimburse the town for burning down the teacherage."

Abigail laughed softly. "It was an old building anyway," she said.

"That's what Constable Grant said, too," Elizabeth said, laughing with her.

"Did he?" Abigail asked. She turned back around and continued washing her pot, and Elizabeth frowned. There was something about the way Abigail had spoken those two simple words that made her think there was something she needed to know.

"Abigail?" Elizabeth said. When she turned around again, Elizabeth tilted her head with a question in her eyes.

Wiping her hands on a towel, Abigail came over to the table and sat down. "This is a small town, Elizabeth," she began, "And..."

Horrified, Elizabeth said, "There were people there."

Abigail nodded, and Elizabeth was very glad to see she was still smiling. "Franklin is a member of the Volunteer Fire Department and he told Ned Yost, who told Molly, who told Carla, who told me..."

"That the new schoolteacher was..." Elizabeth's hands went to her mouth and she lowered her face into them. "Oh, Abigail, I'm so sorry..."

"Well, they understood that you were quite upset. But it's been mentioned that you were very... close..." Abigail stood up quickly and went to the washbasin again to finish her pot. Elizabeth looked closely and she thought she might be smiling.

"Abigail?"

She turned around and the smile had progressed to a laugh. "You haven't been here a day and you're already..."

"...making an impression?" Elizabeth said. Abigail's laugh was infectious, and Elizabeth really needed to release everything she was feeling. They laughed together for some time until Abigail said, "I hate gossip. It's just the worst kind of communication. But that news made it over the back fence in record time this morning."

Shaking her head, Elizabeth said, "What do I do?"

"Oh, it'll die down in record time, too." She paused and raised an eyebrow. "Unless you're..."

Elizabeth's eyes went wide. "NO!" she said, aware that she may have said it just a little too loudly.

Abigail gave her a long knowing look. "He's quite handsome, don't you think?"

Suddenly, Elizabeth found a very interesting thread on the tablecloth. "I hadn't noticed," she said, trying for casual and ending up with petulant.

Abigail walked back over and sat down. She took a deep breath. "It will die down if you let it," she said kindly but pointedly. When Elizabeth looked up at her, Abigail said softly, "Let's let all the mothers get used to having a new schoolteacher without any added complications, shall we?"

Elizabeth nodded and then lifted her chin a little. "Believe me, I have no intention of..."

Abigail took her hand and patted it gently. "Yes, I know. I had no intentions with Noah either. And within six months we were married." She smiled. "You're both new to town. Get settled in. Get to know people. Then you can see what happens."

"Nothing is going to happen," Elizabeth said, but her voice didn't sound very convincing, even to her.

"Mmm-hmmm," Abigail said, smiling. She stood and said, "You must be hungry. Eggs and toast sound okay?"

Elizabeth was famished. She sighed and smiled. "Sounds wonderful."

Elizabeth needed to wire her family to let them know she'd arrived safely. Abigail told her exactly how to get to the Mercantile and that Ned Yost would handle it. Elizabeth sighed. The same Ned Yost who told Molly, who told Carla... She wondered just how long it would take to live down that spontaneous embrace in front of practically everyone in town.

Looking down, Elizabeth was thinking she would also see about getting another pair of boots. She was wearing the ones she had on yesterday because Abigail's shoes were definitely too small. But her feet still hurt and she was imagining a nice suede boot with a lace that could be let out...

"Afternoon."

She looked up suddenly and there he was again. So tall on Newton with the sun behind him, but this time he was out of uniform and he had Allie sitting in front of him in the saddle.

Allie was looking at the straw hat Elizabeth had borrowed from Abigail. It had a thick robin's egg blue grosgrain ribbon around it with a bow at the front. It was very simple compared to the pink-ribboned, floppy-feathered affair that Elizabeth had been wearing yesterday.

Allie frowned a little and said, "Your hat was pretty."

Elizabeth made a sad face and then laughed. "I know. It's gone. Burned. But I learned how to make hats from a friend, and I bet we could make another one just like it," she said to Allie, hoping to make her smile.

It did make her smile, and then Allie did something that surprised both Elizabeth and Nathan. She put her arms out so that Elizabeth could take her down from the saddle. Elizabeth looked up at Nathan and he smiled and nodded. She lifted her down and Allie set about inspecting the lace on Elizabeth's collar. "That's pretty, too, isn't it?" Elizabeth said softly.

Nathan jumped down off of Newton and watched for a moment. He'd seen Allie being held by plenty of women, the neighbor in Benson Hills and most recently, Cat and Molly, but it hadn't made him feel like this.

Nathan took a deep breath to make a little more room in his chest. For the first time since Nathan had taken on Allie, he was feeling there might be something missing in their lives.