The next morning there were some bleary eyes at church in the grove, including Cat's, but no one doubted that this was a day to be there, even perhaps more than any other day. To give thanks. To worship with community. To be aware again that every person in Coal Valley stood for every other person, and that God watched over all of them in His infinite love.

Molly and Rosaleen sat up front and when it came time to sing, Rosaleen's sweet small voice rose up with everyone else's. In fact, Cat was still searching for the right subject for her talk before the service when Elizabeth shared something she'd written in her journal: "The light of love restores every lost voice." Cat hugged her and laughed, wondering why she ever worried about inspiration. "God always provides, just when I need it," she said.

For services, Allie now went right away to Abigail and sat with her, while Nathan and Elizabeth stood at the back for a time as people gathered. Then, when the service started, Elizabeth would go to sit on the other side of Allie.

Nathan had been so busy with the investigation of the stagecoach robbery, the paperwork for the teacherage, getting settled in with Allie and making himself known to the town – not to mention the lovely distraction of Elizabeth Thatcher – that he hadn't yet explored another matter. In the back of his mind, there had always been a nagging feeling about the fact that the church burned down in Coal Valley and there wasn't a good explanation for it. It was next on his list.

The Pinkertons still stood at the back of Sunday services each week with full holsters, and they still took notes. Nathan glanced over at Charles Spurlock and wondered when exactly it was that he had sold out. Nathan had known many fine members of the Pinkerton Detective Agency, and had even considered that line of work for himself for a time. Of course, in every profession there were bad apples, but to go from the honorable and important work of putting criminals behind bars to serving as the hired muscle of a man like Henry Gowen seemed a pretty long fall to Nathan.

He wandered over casually and stood, perhaps a little closer than was comfortable for them. "Gentlemen," he said softly. Cat hadn't begun speaking yet and people were still finding their seats.

"Grant," Spurlock said, still looking ahead. The other man, Mayfield, was making hash marks in his notebook as people walked into the grove, and didn't even acknowledge Nathan's presence.

Nathan put his hands behind his back and gazed forward. "You know, I've known quite a few Pinkertons, and I don't think I've ever seen two quite as God-fearing as you gentlemen. In all the time I've been in Coal Valley, you boys haven't missed a Sunday yet."

Spurlock sneered, still looking forward. "Always lookin' for salvation, Constable." Then Spurlock reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. He finally looked at Nathan as he handed it to him. "From the boss," he said, and then he turned forward again. This conversation was clearly over.

Nathan took the card and read it. At the top in engraved letters, it simply said, HENRY GOWEN. Under that, in his heavy, dark scrawl, Gowen had written: Monday, 9 am.

Nathan smiled and raised an eyebrow, placing the card in his pouch at his hip. He tipped his hat and again said, "Gentlemen," and walked back to his place against the trees as Cat began speaking.

"We give thanks to God for all the gifts we receive every day, and today we offer special thanks for our sweet Rosaleen Sullivan, who was returned to us in the loving arms of our own schoolteacher, Miss Thatcher. I was speaking with Elizabeth this morning and she shared a lovely phrase with me: The light of love restores every lost voice. It is that light I would like to speak about this morning..."

Nathan looked over at Elizabeth, who had her arm protectively around Allie as they listened. They were all exhausted and functioning on a few short hours of sleep, but he still felt the rush of exhilaration that was becoming a constant companion when he was around her. This woman, this extraordinarily beautiful, kind, intelligent and unique woman, seemed to feel about him the way he felt about her.

That in itself was a miracle.

"How did you know?" Abigail said, offering another biscuit to Allie, who happily took it. Nathan helped her with the jar of honey from the ranch in Airdrie that he'd brought with him to Sunday supper. It had come with the care package his mother had sent, and he'd given a full jar to Abigail in thanks for her kindness.

"The picture she drew," Elizabeth said. "I asked the students to write or draw what Coal Valley meant to them, and Rosaleen drew the entrance to the mine."

"I saw it too, when I came to pick up Allie, which is why I went there looking for Elizabeth," Nathan said, offering a taste of the honey left on the spoon to Elizabeth. For a moment, she closed her eyes, savoring the sweetness of it, as Nathan watched her.

And Abigail watched both of them.

When they rejoined the world, Abigail was still smiling with eyebrows raised. "You won't be surprised to know that the gossip has started again," she said. "But..." she started, as they both began to explain, "...it's a completely different kind of gossip." She smiled at them. "The general consensus is that you're a good match."

Perhaps because she was still so tired, Elizabeth was ready with a few choice words to the people in town who felt a need to approve her selection in men, but Nathan felt it bubbling up next to him and quickly took her hand under the table. He turned to her and smiled softly. "My mother has another expression. Take yes for an answer," he said quietly.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and then softened. She raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I'm very much looking forward to meeting your mother," she said. "She sounds like a extremely wise woman."

Nathan laughed. "She is. Annoyingly so. It's hard growing up with someone who is almost always right." He released Elizabeth's hand, certain that the crisis was over. "In fact, I write to her every Sunday, so maybe I'll share your compliment with her tonight." Allie was trying to get into the honey jar on her own and Nathan managed to get hold of it just in time to avert disaster.

Elizabeth turned to Abigail. She didn't want to care what people thought of her, but she loved her job and realized that reality dictated that there was a bit of a game to be played. "What about the mothers of the students, Abigail? What are they saying?"

Abigail took another bite of potatoes. "After what you did last night? There's not much you can do wrong at this point. You risked your life for one of your students. One of their children. They can't stop talking about how wonderful you are. Most of them are counting their lucky stars that we got you to come to Coal Valley."

"Most of them?" Elizabeth asked.

Abigail laughed. "Florence is a tough nut to crack, Elizabeth, but once you do, you'll find she's more loyal and loving than anyone you could ever know." Abigail reached across the table and took Elizabeth's hand. "She'll come around."

"Oh," Nathan said suddenly, "I forgot to tell you..." He stood up from the table and went over to his coat hanging on the rack by the door. He came back and put the card he'd received from Spurlock on the table. "I have been summoned."

Abigail picked up the card. "What does he want with you?" she said suspiciously.

"To peck at his backside," Elizabeth said, laughing. Nathan laughed too, and Abigail smiled, waiting patiently for them to explain. She remembered all too well what young love was like, and in truth, she was enjoying watching it with Elizabeth and Nathan. They were clearly so happy, and she agreed with the rest of the town. It was a good match.

Nathan looked at Abigail. "Roosters," was all he said, and Abigail nodded, understanding immediately.

"Be careful with Henry, Nathan," Abigail said, standing and beginning to clear the table. "We all like to believe that there's a streak of good in people, and I still believe that with him. But it's buried pretty deep."

Nathan nodded, picking up his own plate and taking it to the kitchen counter. "I told Elizabeth that I've met a Gowen in every town I've been in. I think I know how to handle him."

Abigail smiled. "Well, if how you handled him out at the mine is any indication, I don't need to give you advice." She pumped water into the pot to begin heating it. "But Henry Gowen hasn't had to answer to any law but himself since the day he set foot in this town. He won't take kindly to... direction."

Elizabeth had set to the task of freeing Allie's hands and face of the liberal helpings of honey she'd managed to smear on them. "But honestly, what can he do?" Elizabeth said, looking over at Abigail. "You're not really connected to him anymore, are you? He doesn't hold any power over you."

Abigail stopped what she was doing and looked directly at Elizabeth. "He owns the house we're living in. In fact, he owns all the row houses. Except for a few who pay rent, like Nathan, we are all still living here under his good graces."

Elizabeth turned and looked at Abigail. "He... he does?"

"Yes. This is miner housing, owned by the Pacific Northwest Mining Company. And the widows haven't paid a penny in rent since we lost our men." She exhaled softly. "Henry Gowen holds our life in Coal Valley in his hands."

Elizabeth walked with Nathan and Allie back to their house at the end of the row. "I've watched you walk home so many times, and I've never been up here. I thought it was time I walked you home," she said, swinging Allie's arm and smiling down at her.

Nathan laughed. "Now I'm trying to think how I left the place. And whether it's proper to ask you in." He turned to her. "Is it?"

Laughing, Elizabeth said, "You're asking me?" She looked at Allie again, "I suppose we have a little chaperone..." Then she looked back at Nathan, "But since the town currently approves of us, we might not want to push it. We could sit on your porch for a bit?"

He pulled her close and put his arm around her shoulders. "Good compromise."

They were close now, and Allie ran up the steps and into the house, heading for her dolls. Elizabeth whispered to Nathan, "How's the dollhouse coming?"

Nathan raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Well, I have been a little busy... rescuing damsels in distress and all..."

Elizabeth laughed. "And if I promise to stay out of trouble?" she said, leaning in closer to him.

"I will be amazed..." he said, starting up the steps. She punched him lightly on the arm and followed him. Allie had left the door wide open and she could see a surprisingly homey room inside. She stepped in, looking around in wonder.

"You're already breaking your rule, Miss Thatcher," Nathan said, pointing down to the threshold.

"Just a peek," she said, looking down the row of houses. "No one is around..."

Nathan jumped in front of her and quickly picked up his red serge where he'd left it over the back of the sofa, and pushed his boots from beside the door, and then moved to the kitchen to put a few dishes in the wash basin.

Elizabeth came up behind him and held his arms. "Stop," she said. He turned and smiled at her and she looked into his eyes. "Things don't have to be perfect, Nathan." She laughed softly. "In fact, they never will be, so we might as well get used to it."

He put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "I don't know. Things feel pretty perfect."

Elizabeth never ceased to be amazed at how good it felt to hold him. From that very first night when she was so afraid, she'd loved how solid he was and how his long arms wrapped her so securely. They stood there for a time, and Elizabeth began to feel the lack of sleep again. Her eyes were closed and she felt so safe and warm that she actually found herself falling a little bit asleep.

She pulled away and looked up at him, her eyelids heavy. "On second thought, can I take a raincheck on the porch sitting?" she said.

Nathan moved a curl behind her ear, "Anytime you want." He took a deep breath. "I'm dead on my feet too, and I still need to write a letter to my mother. Sundays..." he said, raising his eyebrows. "But for the record, I was prepared to make scintillating conversation..."

Elizabeth leaned up and kissed him quickly. "Who are we kidding? We'd both fall asleep out there and they'd find us in the morning," she said, laughing. "And I love that you write to your mother every week. She raised you well."

She walked with him to the door, and Nathan said, "I'm starting to build my woodworking shed out back tomorrow. Don't suppose a kind-hearted soul would bring me some lemonade for my parched throat at about... say... three?"

Elizabeth smiled up at him. "That's a definite possibility. We can't have a parched Constable," she said. "And then you can tell me all about your meeting with Henry Gowen."

"Deal," he said. They were on the porch now and he took her into his arms. "I feel like I should walk you home, but then you'd have to walk me home, and this could go on all night," he said softly.

The sun was going down, and the light on her face was so exquisite... she was so exquisite, that he held her face in his hands for a moment, just gazing at her.

Elizabeth smiled and pointed to her cheek. "Clean face," she said.

Nathan laughed softly and leaned down, very slowly, to touch his lips to hers. She sighed and felt his strong arms go around her, and for a moment they both lost themselves in each other. These feelings, the depth of them, were new to both of them. It was hard to let go, even for a night, but the weariness and lack of sleep was relentless.

Elizabeth held him close for another moment and then whispered, "Goodnight, Nathan."

She pulled away and he held onto her hand as she started down the stairs. In the fading light, she could see his crooked smile as he said, "Goodnight, Lizbeth," which produced the sigh he was hoping for.

As she started down the path toward Abigail's, she looked back and raised an eyebrow. "Watch your backside tomorrow morning," she said, laughing.

Nathan laughed too, "I will." He watched her as she walked, her skirt swaying side to side in tandem with her long curls. Finally, a sigh escaped him as well as he turned and said to Allie, "Bedtime, sweetie. Brush your teeth and I'll tell you a story..."

Rebecca Grant

Airdrie, Alberta

Sunday, 18th September, 1910

Dear Mom,

This will be a short one, as I'm falling asleep over the paper and pen. I'll explain later why that is, but I didn't want to let this week go by without a letter to you.

Got the second shipment of books on Wednesday and can't thank you enough. Or Charlie, or whoever handled it. It's becoming clear that Coal Valley needs a library, because the foot traffic through the Mountie office is increasing almost daily as people ask if I happen to have such-and-such book. An encyclopedia salesman came through town last week and I actually considered ordering a set, but then thought better of it. I'm running out of room in my small office as it is. In any case, thank you.

Glad to hear the ranch is doing so well this year, and I appreciate receiving my half of the quarterly profits. As you know, I don't have much use or desire for the money, but I do love that it will ensure Allie a strong education and a house of her own when she's ready for it. And I must admit that it has crossed my mind that I might like to build a house here for myself someday, but more on that later as well.

Allie is taking to school like a fish to water. Miss Thatcher.. Elizabeth... tells me that she is on a par with the five- and six-year-olds in her class, and she has no doubt that she'll do well in the long term. Allie adores her, and I believe part of the reason she loves school is that Elizabeth is there.

You mentioned in one of your recent letters (and not very subtly, I might add) that I seemed to be talking quite a bit about a certain schoolteacher in Coal Valley. In my last letter to you, I recall that I told you I was interested in serving all of the residents of the town. Your subsequent quote from Hamlet about me protesting too much left me certain that I hadn't convinced you in the slightest that she was nothing special. As always, you're on to me.

You might want to sit down, Mom. Your son (the one who said he had no time for, or interest in, the complications that women bring to daily life), is now officially courting said schoolteacher, and is generally making a happy fool of himself on a regular basis doing it. The good news, and my incredible good luck, is that she actually seems to be fairly smitten by the fool herself.

If you're still reading (and haven't fainted at the news of the previous paragraph), I'll tell you that I've never felt more content. She gives me all the space I need for my quirks and my dark moods, and though I haven't yet been up to telling her about Colleen (or my father's situation), I'm feeling closer to that time. I've told you before that I've never been in love and haven't entirely understood those who felt they were… and I don't honestly know if that's what this is. But I can tell you that she matters to me. Very much.

I'll leave it there for tonight, although I'm certain you're bursting with questions. Perhaps you'll have to leave the ranch to Charlie and the hands for a week and come visit my new home. I know how you hate the train, but if it brings you into the arms of your beloved Alliebeck, and allows you to meet my lovely schoolteacher, might it be worth it?

Much love and more later,

Your son, Nathan