I always seem to be apologising whenever I update this story because it's always been so long! So - as usual - sorry for the delay. Thanks for those who are still reading and reviewing. Bear with me, we will get there!! There is also some dialogue in this chapter from the episode The Tempest. I don't own any of that. I have manipulated events in that episode slightly to suit my own ends! Please read and review.

November 1871

Colorado Springs

Rebecca could feel Preston's disappointment coming off of him in waves. It was the evening after the results of the mayoral race had been announced and Jake had emerged victorious. Preston had put a fairly good face on it all and had even congratulated Jake in public, but Rebecca knew her husband better than she would ever have thought possible and she could tell he was upset.

Dinner had been a quiet affair. Preston hadn't said much and Rebecca hadn't known which side to take. Should she tell him it didn't matter and that he was bound for better things, or should she say it was a travesty of justice and he would have made a far better mayor than Jake ever could? In the end, she chose neither and did the best she could to make banal conversation about other things. But it was difficult, when all anyone had been talking about for weeks was the contest.

Preston pushed his half-eaten plate of food away from him. "I'm sorry, but I'm just not very hungry this evening."

"That's all right," Rebecca replied. She watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a crumpled telegram. "What's that?"

"It's from my father," he replied, "simply reminding me that he'll be here two days before Thanksgiving." Rebecca didn't say anything. "I will expect you to welcome him."

She paused, fork halfway to mouth and stared at him, "Excuse me?"

"Well…" he looked away, "you know what I mean."

"I have never been anything other than cordial and polite to your family, Preston, all of them. I find it insulting that you would think…"

"Yes, yes, yes," he waved his hand dismissively at her and rose from the table. "I don't really want to get into a discussion about it. I've said what I wanted to say."

Rebecca bit her tongue and held back the vitriol that she felt like throwing at him. For all the support she had given him over the last few weeks she thought it extremely bad form that he should turn around now and practically accuse her of…thinking about it only made her angrier, so she herself rose from the table and carried the plates over to the sink. Angrily, she began washing them up, not caring about the noise she was making.

"Rebecca, could you please do that more quietly?" She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was sitting in the chair next to the fire, his back to her. Again, she bit her tongue and resumed what she was doing with little improvement on the noise level. "Rebecca!"

"If you don't like it, Preston, you can come and do it yourself," she replied tightly. He appeared suddenly beside her, drying the dishes she had washed and putting them away in the cupboard. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and saw the tightness of his jaw. "I know you're upset about the result…" she began.

"I can hardly help it if the people of this town can't see a good thing when it's staring them in the face," he interrupted her.

"There's no shame in losing."

"Of course not," he sneered, "none at all."

"Preston…"

"Father will be disappointed." He began drying one particular dinner plate with careful precision. "I wrote to him about the contest. He wired back to say that he hoped I would be successful."

Rebecca put down the cloth she was holding. "Is that what this is all about? Impressing your father?"

"No," he replied, refusing to meet her gaze.

"If your father is any father at all, he will merely commiserate with you and then move on."

"Of course, you would think that."

"You live hundreds of miles away from him, Preston. He has already caused you so much unhappiness in life, darling, please don't let him hurt you in your own home."

Preston looked at her, and seconds later she was crushed to him. "You're right. Of course you're right," he said, his voice muffled against the top of her head. "What would I do without my sweet, wonderful, rational Rebecca?"

Rebecca pulled back and looked up at him, "Whatever you pleased, my love. With no wife to burden you."

"As if you could ever be a burden," he kissed her gently. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. You've been nothing but supportive to me and I should remember that."

"I forgive you," she replied indulgently. "And I promise to be nothing but supportive when your father comes to stay."

Preston's smile faded slightly. "Yes."

"Preston, if you've changed your mind…if you don't want him here for Thanksgiving we can wire Boston and tell them it's not convenient." He looked at her. "You can say that I'm ill and can't receive visitors. Your parents won't question that."

"No," he said decisively, "I'm not afraid of my father, Rebecca. I want him to see our town. I want him to see what differences I've made here. What I've achieved. What we've achieved. No, he will come as planned. It will only be for a few days. I'm sure we can bear his company that long."

Rebecca pressed her face against his chest, "Yes, my love, I'm sure we can."

XXXX

The days leading to the arrival of Preston's father seemed to fly past faster than Rebecca would have believed. She had prepared the spare room for him to the best of her abilities after Preston had decreed that his father would not be staying at the Spring Chateau after all. "I think he would be more comfortable with us," he told her, though she knew that it was really secret code for "I don't want him snooping around when I'm not there."

Preston's nerves were contagious and though she tried to fight it, as the day approached, Rebecca found herself becoming more and more anxious to the point where she had a small attack while brushing the front steps. She was alone at the time and a dose of digitalis calmed her, but she couldn't help berating herself for allowing a man like Preston's father to cause her ill health. The night before he was due to arrive Preston didn't come home until late. Rebecca tossed and turned, waiting for the sound of his horse returning. Sometime after midnight, she heard him and, throwing on her dressing gown, hurried downstairs to greet him.

"I'm sorry," he said, catching sight of her coming down the stairs. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I was awake anyway," she replied, taking his coat from him and hanging it up. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," he replied. "I just wanted to make sure everything was looking all right at the hotel."

"And is it?"

"Yes, yes, it's all fine."

"I'll get you some tea," she moved into the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

"No, I ate earlier." Preston sat down at the table. "How about you? Did your day go well?"

"Yes," she replied, bringing over two cups. "I came by the bank at lunchtime but you weren't there."

"I've been at the hotel most of the day. There was simply so much to do." He took her hand in his and squeezed it. "I'm sorry if I've neglected you recently."

She paused, thinking of all the nights recently when she had reached for him and he had made an excuse. "You haven't," she replied. "But you need your sleep. Your father's coming in on the early train."

"I know," he sighed heavily. "You should go up to bed."

"Are you coming with me?"

"In a minute. Please, you go on up."

"All right." She rose from the table and kissed him gently. "Don't be too long." She climbed the stairs back to the bedroom and waited, but it was a good hour before he joined her. He burrowed himself close to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her back against him. She felt his love, his warmth and she also felt his uncertainty.

XXXX

The following morning dawned bright and fair and the town was bustling. Rebecca had stopped off at the clinic to pick up some more digitalis before accompanying Preston to the station. When she came out of the clinic, she saw that he was talking to Andrew. Hurrying over, she caught the tail end of their conversation.

"So tell Michaela you're leaving," Preston was saying.

"Preston…" Andrew hissed, "What, now?"

"Tell Michaela you're leaving what?" she asked, joining them.

"Nothing," Andrew said quickly, touching his hat to her. "I hope you're well, Rebecca."

"I'm fine Andrew, thank you," she replied, watching him hurry away. "What was that all about?"

"Just a little bit of business." Preston replied. He sighed when he saw her expression, "I've asked Andrew to take over running the clinic at the hotel and he seems rather reluctant to untie the apron strings."

"I see," Rebecca linked arms with him, "Does Michaela know about this?"

"Not unless Andrew decides to tell her. I wish he'd hurry up so that I could at least tell Doctor Cassidy that the position has been filled."

"Doctor Cassidy?" Rebecca made a face. "Lord preserve us."

Preston smiled indulgently at her, "You're not a fan?"

"That's putting it mildly."

By this time, they were at the station and Preston checked his watch. "The train should be here any moment."

Rebecca felt her heart start to beat faster and then chastised herself. She refused to allow this man to make her nervous in her own home. At that moment, Sully and Michaela appeared, the latter looking upset. "Michaela?"

Her friend turned to look at her, "Colleen's not going to make it home today," she explained. "She's got too much work to do."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Rebecca replied sincerely, "I'm sure she'll be home in time for Thanksgiving."

"I hope so," Michaela said.

At that moment, the train appeared from around the corner and with a whistle and a large blast of smoke, it slowly pulled into the station. Preston gripped Rebecca's arm tighter and she squeezed him back in response. A sign of solidarity. The train came to a halt and the passengers began to disembark.

Preston caught sight of his father at the door of the carriage. "There he is. Father!"

Preston Senior smiled and stepped down to greet him, "Well now. You haven't changed."

"It's been six months since the wedding, sir, I may still surprise you. I trust Mother's well."

"She and your brothers send their regards."

"And your journey was pleasant?"

"Tumultuous. There are terrible storms across the plains."

"Well you're here safely and I'm…honoured that you made such a long trip," Preston said.

"I made good use of the time and secured some new business along the way."

I'm sure you did, Rebecca thought to herself. Far be it for you to come here solely to see your son.

As if reading her thoughts, Preston turned to her and, putting his hand on her back, ushered her forwards. "Father, you remember Rebecca."

Despite everything, Rebecca put on her best smile and held out her hand, "It's good to see you again, Mr Lodge."

He appeared slightly taken aback, but took her hand in his and shook it, "And you." He regarded her up and down. "Well Preston, she's much lovelier than I remembered.""Indeed she is, sir," Preston replied, seemingly pleased at the compliment.

"I trust you're looking after my son," Preston Senior regarded her carefully.

"I'm doing the best I can," Rebecca replied, coolly meeting his gaze.

"Good. What more can a man ask for than a loving and devoted wife." He glanced around. "So, this is Colorado Springs."

"Only one part of it," Preston jumped in. "There's lots for you to see, Father. I thought we'd start in town and then we can take you out to the hotel…"

"Preston," Rebecca broke in. "Your father's probably tired from the journey. Perhaps we should start with some coffee at Grace's and then you can give him the grand tour."

"Of course," Preston said, smiling gratefully at her. "Father, if you'd like to come this way." The three of them made their way out of the station and onto the main street where Preston Senior instantly commented on the lack of paved streets. Rebecca rolled her eyes and concentrated on looking welcoming.

"This is the first thing to show you, Father," Preston said, stopping in front of the bank.

"Ah yes," Preston Senior said, casting his gaze upon the building. "Good thinking, son. You were right to start small."

Preston turned back to face his father, the smile on his face slipping slightly. "Small?"

"A larger bank might have intimidated these frontier people." His father smiled, encouraging him to share in the sentiment.

"Of course," Preston replied.

Rebecca felt herself grow angry and suddenly desperate to get them into Grace's. "Shall we?" she said, gesturing ahead. The three of them walked in silence until they reached the café, whereupon Grace quickly found them a table and they ordered coffee. "So," she said, once they were settled, "What news is there from Boston? I wrote to Louisa several weeks ago but I haven't had a reply from her."

Preston Senior's expression became melancholic. "I'm afraid I am the bearer of some bad news."

"Oh?" Preston asked.

"Louisa's time came earlier than expected. She had a daughter who only lived for a few minutes. It was all very sad."

Rebecca sat staring at him, stunned at the clinical way he had just announced the death of Louisa and James' child. "When was this?" she demanded.

"Three weeks ago."

"So why are we only hearing about it now?"

"Rebecca…" Preston chastised her gently. "How are they, Father?"

"Devastated as one might expect," Preston Senior replied, "but bearing up well."

"That's terrible news," Rebecca said, emotion clogging her throat, "I must wire Louisa. I must…tell her how sorry we are…" She put her cutlery down and took a drink of water. All the jealousy she had felt at hearing the news of Louisa's pregnancy now paled into guilt. The woman she believed had everything had just lost the most precious thing of all.

"Yes well…" Preston Senior said, clearly eager to move on and change the subject. "Your town is rather charming, Preston."

"Thank you, sir," he replied quietly.

"And you seem to have a fair stake in it."

"Well, sir, what with the bank and the hotel…"

"Yes, I look forward to seeing the hotel. You've certainly said great things in your letters home."

"I only hope you won't be disappointed, Father," Preston said, which only made Rebecca feel angry again.

"Well it's as I said," Preston Senior said, drinking his coffee, "It doesn't do to intimidate people."

"I don't believe they would be intimidated, Mr Lodge," Rebecca said, finding her voice again. "But there would be little point in building banks and hotels that dwarfed the town now, would there?"

Preston Senior looked at her, "I suppose not." He turned back to Preston. "When you become Mayor, of course, you will be able to do more things in the town."

Preston glanced at Rebecca. "Well sir…you see…the contest is over."

"And?"

"And…Mayor Slicker was re-elected."

"I see," Preston Senior put down his napkin. "That's unfortunate. I was under the misapprehension that he was a drunk and a barber."

"No, no, he is…was…those things," Preston said quickly. "But…"

"Jake's lived here for many years," Rebecca butted in. "The townsfolk know him, warts and all." She smiled. "It doesn't mean that Preston can't be successful in the future."

"Indeed. But Preston, you really must try harder if you expect to make any impression whatsoever in Colorado Springs."

Rebecca opened her mouth, ready to leap to her husband's defence, but Preston silenced her with a look. "Of course, sir."

Feeling sick, not only with her father-in-law's attitude but also to the news of Louisa and James' tragedy, Rebecca got to her feet. "Well, I'm sure that you would both like some time alone," she said. "I promised to meet Dorothy this morning." It was a lie, but one she managed to pull off perfectly.

"Aren't you coming out to the hotel with us?" Preston asked, getting to his feet also.

"No, I'd probably only get in the way," she laughed, "I'll see you later on this afternoon."

"All right, if you must," Preston said. "Tell Dorothy that I'll be along later. I want to introduce my father to her and give her the instructions for interviewing my investors at the opening ceremony."

"I will," Rebecca replied. "Mr Lodge." Preston's father touched his hat, but didn't rise from his seat. As she passed her husband, Rebecca reached over and kissed him on the cheek, squeezing his hand in the process. Then she left the café as quickly as possible.

XXXX

"Oh, the man is insufferable!" she raged to Dorothy. "He's the most…the most…" she was lost for words to describe him.

Dorothy laughed as she worked the printing press. "You can't choose your family."

"He's not my family, not really. I'd give them all up for it to be just Preston and I. Except for Louisa and James, that is."

"It really is terrible news," Dorothy commiserated with her.

"I feel so stupid. I should have known something was wrong when she didn't reply to my letters." Rebecca sat down on a vacant seat. "Now I don't know what to say to them."

"All you can do is send your condolences."

"I suppose," Rebecca chewed on her lower lip. "But first I have to get through the next few days."

At that moment, Preston and his father came into the Gazette and Rebecca could instantly see that something was bothering her husband.

"Rebecca," he greeted her.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied tightly.

"Preston has just shown me the hotel," Preston Senior said, "Very impressive."

"He's worked hard," she said.

"I told him, of course, that more storeys would be needed in time."

Rebecca frowned, "More storeys?"

"Father, I'd like you to meet our town's pre-eminent journalist, Miss Dorothy Jennings," Preston interrupted.

"How nice that you could spend the holiday with your son," Dorothy said.

"Oh Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving happens every year," Preston Senior said. "But Preston's hotel opening. That's a momentous occasion." He clapped Preston on the back.

"I want you there at two on Thursday," Preston said to Dorothy, "That way you can interview my hotel's investors before the opening ceremony."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly be there before four," Dorothy replied, "I'm doing research for my book and I've scheduled an interview for Thursday for most of the afternoon."

"Well you'll have to reschedule," Preston said tightly.

"Preston!" Rebecca exclaimed.

"Pardon?" Dorothy said.

"My story is big news for this town," Preston continued, "If you want to be taken seriously as a professional journalist…"

"I am a professional journalist," Dorothy said waspishly.

"Then give my story the attention it deserves."

"Preston, I'm sure that Dorothy…" Rebecca began, but he cut her off with a look.

"Your story will get the proper treatment, Preston," Dorothy said, "starting at four." She stared coolly at him, forcing Preston and his father to withdraw.

Rebecca turned to Dorothy, "I'm so sorry," she said.

"It's fine," Dorothy replied, "You can't help what your husband says or does." She turned back to her press, indicating the conversation was over.

Rebecca followed them outside.

"That Gazette is your newspaper, Preston, and that woman in there, she works for you."

"Well, not exactly…" Preston replied. "You see I co-own the newspaper with Miss Jennings."

"Co-own?" Preston Senior exclaimed in astonishment, "You gave her fifty per cent?"

"Actually…" Preston looked as though he wished the ground would open up and swallow him. "Dorothy owns 51 per cent."

His father snorted before turning away. "No wonder she didn't listen to you."

Preston made to follow him, but Rebecca put her hand on his arm, "Preston…"

"Not now," he said, gently shaking her off and following his father.

Rebecca followed at a safe distance, her mind going over and over everything that had happened in the few short hours since Preston's father had arrived. She was so angry that she wanted to march up to him and slap him in the face for all the things he had said. She followed them until they were almost back at the bank when Horace's surrey came flying past her, Horace a few paces behind yelling at the driver to stop.

"Thief! Horace shouted, "Stop him!" Someone ran out and grabbed the horse's reins, bringing the surrey to a halt. "He stole my surrey!" Horace panted, catching up.

"That man didn't steal anything," Preston declared. "He works for me. He took that surrey legitimately on the bank's behalf."

"But it's mine!" Horace protested.

"That surrey belongs to the bank, Horace. You're six weeks late on your loan payment," Preston said looking at his father, "That surrey has been repossessed."

"Repossessed?" Horace exclaimed. "But I only got two more payments. I was short last month cause I had to send money to Myra for Samantha."

Rebecca took his arm, "Preston I'm sure that…"

"Two more payments, Mr Lodge?" Michaela interrupted. "Surely you can give Horace an extension?"

Horace looked hopefully at Preston as the rest of the townsfolk held their breath waiting for a response. Rebecca moved closer to her husband, "Preston…"

"No," he said, before she could finish, "No exceptions, no extensions."

Horace's face fell. "Go ahead then. Take it." With that, he stormed back towards the station.

Rebecca turned to her husband but he merely looked at her and then looked at his father. Preston Senior nodded imperceptibly and Rebecca felt sick. The approval Preston craved had come at the expense of someone else. As she watched, Preston's father put his hand on his son's shoulder and they made their way back towards the bank, a slight swagger to Preston's step.

XXXX

She wasn't sure if it was because she had had to endure her husband being belittled at every available opportunity or the fact that she was angry at what had happened with Horace, or simply raging hormones, but when Preston came into the bedroom later that night, Rebecca felt red hot desire burn through her. She wanted him. Wanted to make sure that he was still hers. Still the Preston she loved and not the man his father wanted him to be.

"He seems comfortable enough," he said, closing the door behind him and moving over to the bed. "It's not Boston of course…"

"I'm sure it's fine," Rebecca said, pulling herself up onto her knees.

"I just hope that everything goes well tomorrow," he continued thoughtfully, beginning to unbutton his shirt, "I'm sure that everything's covered…"

"Everything's covered," she reassured him, aiding him in his quest to undress. Allowing his shirt to fall from his back, she leant forward and kissed his chest, biting down gently on the flesh.

"I can't remember if I asked Wendall to make sure the windows were all washed again in the morning," Preston said suddenly, oblivious to her actions. "They need to be sparkling."

"Preston," Rebecca lifted her head and levelled his gaze, "Don't think about it," she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, "think about me."

"I can hardly avoid thinking about you," he replied with a smile.

"Well, don't think about what the hotel needs," she said, "think about what I need."

"And what do you need?"

She smiled suggestively, "You." Leaning forward, she kissed him again. "Making love to me like a good husband should." He responded for a moment before pushing her away.

"I don't think it's entirely appropriate, Rebecca," and she could see a faint blush on his cheeks.

"What's not appropriate?" she asked, confused.

"Well, you and I…" he looked at her meaningfully, "with my father in the next room…"

Rebecca laughed, "Preston, this is our house, our bedroom, our bed. I don't think we should be worried about your father."

"Yes but…what if he were to hear?" He looked anxiously at her.

"He knows we're married," she replied. "Surely he can expect little else."

"No," he said, purposefully moving away from her, "It's not that I don't want to because you know I do, but I can't. It doesn't seem right somehow. He's my father."

Sexually frustrated and angry in any event, Rebecca's temper broke. "Fine. Well, I'm not coming tomorrow."

Preston paused from where he had been continuing to undress across the other side of the room and looked at her, "What? What do you mean you're not coming? You have to be there! It's the grand opening!"

"You don't need me there, Preston."

"You're my wife! Of course I need you there!"

"To serve what purpose exactly?" He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued talking, "Besides, seeing as you brought him up, I'll be honest and tell you that I'm not sure I can bear to spend another minute in your father's company."

"And why not?"

"Because ever since he arrived in town he has done his best to put you down and undermine your achievements," she said. Preston cast his eyes downwards. "The bank is too small, the hotel not substantial enough, you didn't become Mayor, you gave Dorothy 51% of the Gazette…" she trailed off, "and every time he makes such a comment you just stand there and…and take it! And it hurts me to see it. And I want to say something but I know that any comment from me would not be welcomed by either of you." She shook her head, "And…quite frankly…I don't like the person you become in his company."

His head snapped up. "I don't understand."

"That business today with Horace and the surrey. You could have given him an extension and you probably would have if your father hadn't been there. But instead, you looked to him and did what you knew he would have done in your position. I felt so…" she didn't want to use the word but it was the only one that fit, "ashamed." Immediately she regretted it, as a look of abject hurt crossed his face.

"Well…" he said, his voice tight, "I didn't think that…I mean, I suppose that…" he trailed off.

"Darling, I don't want to hurt you," Rebecca climbed out of the bed and hurried over to him. "I know you only want him to be proud but…we have to live here long after your father goes back to Boston and…what happened with Horace wasn't right." She stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm, "And deep down, I think you recognise that yourself. Please don't change the person you are, the person I love, because your father is here."

Preston sank down on the chair at the dressing table and ran his hand through his hair. "Rebecca," he began slowly, "you don't know what it's like to be my father's son. It has never been easy to please him and after doing what I did…"

"You mean marrying me."

"I wanted him to come here and be proud of me. To see that I could do all of this on my own."

"Preston, you're a grown man," she said. "You don't need your father's approval, surely?"

He looked up at her, his eyes huge. "It's all I've ever wanted from him."

"Oh my love…" she perched on his lap and showered his face with kisses, her heart aching for the little boy inside him, the little boy constantly seeking love and approval. "My darling, I'm sure your father is proud of you. So very proud. What father wouldn't be seeing all that you've achieved? Perhaps…perhaps his put-downs are his way of making sure that you keep your feet on the ground. That you don't become too carried away with your own importance…"

"Do you believe that?" he asked.

She wanted to say no, that she simply believed his father was a cold-hearted man who delighted in putting his son down, but she knew that wasn't what Preston needed to hear from her. "Yes, I think that must be it."

"I suppose you're right," he acquiesced, burying his face in her neck. "Are you still refusing to come tomorrow?"

Rebecca sighed heavily, knowing that her outburst had been as petty and childish as the behaviour she had been chastising him for. "If you want me there, I'll be there."

"I want you there," he replied, his breath hot on her neck.

"Then I'll be there," she said, as he lifted his head and their mouths met. "But I'm there for you," she said, "not to impress your father."

"I love you, Rebecca Lodge," he whispered, kissing her again, his fingers unbuttoning her nightdress and slipping inside to meet the curve of her breasts.

His touch made her shiver. "What about your father?" she whispered back.

He grinned at her, "I can be quiet if you can."