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Tilda was so twisted up inside that it was hard to remember all Ben had told her.

She did know one thing clearly, though. She wasn’t about to jump on a train and race back to New York City with a stranger.

Very likely they were family. Almost certainly they were—the scar story had the ring of truth about it—but it wasn’t enough for her to hand her whole life over to a man she knew nothing about.

“I know you’ve come a long way, but I’m not going back east with you.

” Tilda’s voice was harsh. She hadn’t meant it to be, but she heard herself.

She’d stay here instead with a bunch of strangers.

Yet they were strangers she knew. Honestly, she didn’t know them or they wouldn’t be strangers, now, would they?

Even so, they were a whole lot more familiar to her than her brother, Ben.

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Tilda, you must come with me. I—”

“Stop!” Tilda leaned forward, bracing her hands on the table.

She missed Josh’s strong hand on her back, but she had to make Ben understand.

“You must understand that you’re a complete stranger to me.

I don’t have any memories of you, and I will not get on a train and ride away from here with you.

The whole idea is frightening. And anyway, I’ve decided to settle in California.

I’m a teacher here at the Two Harts Ranch, and I like it.

We can write to each other. Get to know each other that way.

And maybe someday I’ll come and visit. With the train it’s not an impossible distance. ”

Ben’s eyes glinted with steely determination. Tilda was suddenly afraid. Ben didn’t look apt to take no for an answer. “But you have to go with me, Tilda.”

“Tilda doesn’t have to go anywhere.” Josh entered the conversation, and it was all Tilda could do not to hide behind him. She refused to show any weakness, so she stood her ground.

Now all three of them stood. Ben glaring. Josh stalwart and ready to protect Tilda. And Tilda sick, scared, confused, hurt beyond measure to hear her mother had as good as thrown her out into the street.

It was a standoff to match any armed meeting at high noon. Silence stretched until it was a cord binding them all, quivering with tension.

Then the door opened, and Michelle stepped inside.

“Tilda, I see you met your brother. Aren’t reunions wonderful?”

* * * *

“My grandpa is going to be thrilled to meet you.” Cord knocked on the door of a mansion.

The train trip had taken half the day, with stops at every little town, some of them lengthy. Brody had spent most of it asleep, with Ellie watching over him.

Now here they stood at Mayhew Westbrook’s door.

Ellie hoped the man had food available. She and Brody hadn’t eaten for hours, and even then, for Brody it wasn’t much. In fact, Brody needed to lie down somewhere for a while. Her husband was barely standing upright.

A very starchy man in a black suit opened the door. For just a brief few seconds, he smiled at Cord. This wasn’t Cord’s grandpa. Ellie knew enough about how rich people lived to recognize a butler when she saw one.

“Welcome back, Master Cordell, sir. Your grandfather is not expecting you.”

“Is he available, Fletcher? He sent me on a mission, and I believe I have information he’ll want to hear.”

“Of course. He’s in his study. Come in. Let me announce you.”

“Can my friend sit down somewhere? He’s been injured.”

“Certainly, sir.” Fletcher gestured toward a bench near the front door.

Cord helped Ellie as the two of them eased Brody onto the bench while Fletcher strode down the hall that ran alongside the stairs to the second floor.

Fletcher stopped in front of a door and knocked twice, then opened the door and spoke words Ellie couldn’t hear. A few moments passed before Fletcher returned. “Your grandfather will see you now,” he stated.

“I should have never sat down,” Brody said and regained his feet. Ellie had his arm, as if the two of them were going for a stroll. Only she was mostly holding him upright. Cord stayed a pace behind, probably in case he needed to keep Brody from collapsing.

“Getting shot in the chest really hurts.” Brody, voicing the obvious. “I need to be nicer to patients who have this injury.”

“Probably all dead, as a rule.” Cord stayed close. “You got shot in the heart after all. Not that many people carrying gold coins in their pockets. That’s probably why you’ve never had a real policy for handling it.”

An elderly man sat in a chair behind a massive desk, looking like a king allowing an audience to his subjects.

“Brody MacKenzie, sir.”

Cord gestured toward them. “Ellie and Brody MacKenzie, this is my grandfather, Mayhew Westbrook.”

Mr. Westbrook’s eyes shot through with keen excitement. He made no sound. Didn’t start demanding information. Didn’t kick up his heels and dance a jig, but he was absolutely riveted on Brody.

“Can we sit in front of the fire, Grandpa? Brody was wounded while on a treasure hunt.”

Brody sagged a bit, but before he could slump all the way to the floor, Cord slung an arm across his back.

With Ellie on Brody’s other side, they helped him to the blue-and-white-floral divan that faced a crackling fire.

It was a warm day—too warm for a fire in Ellie’s opinion—but Brody might appreciate it.

“Wounded by Loyal Kelton, who lied his way into eating a meal with you. He used what he learned from you to track down Brody. This is Brody’s wife, Ellie Hart MacKenzie. Loyal threatened Ellie, knocked Ellie’s brother unconscious, shot Brody, and tried to steal the map they have.”

“Loyal Kelton? I knew he was up to no good,” Mr. Westbrook said. “He shot you? Yes, sit. Sit.” He rose from his seat behind the desk with more alacrity than Ellie would have expected for such an elderly man. But then talk of treasure no doubt put a spring in his step.

Mr. Westbrook headed for the larger of the two wing-back chairs that sat at ninety-degree angles to the divan. He sank into his chair, big enough it resembled a throne, just as Cord got Brody settled. Ellie sat beside him.

“You’re Graham MacKenzie’s grandson? Frazier MacKenzie’s son?” Mr. Westbrook might be old, but his mind seemed sharp.

Brody nodded and looked to be gathering his strength.

“Dr. MacKenzie and his wife, Ellie, are newly married,” Cord said. “Brody came to their ranch searching for MacKenzie’s Treasure.”

“I’ll tell you what I know, Mr. Westbrook,” said Ellie, giving Brody a worried look. “We found a partial map concealed in an old journal sent to Brody and his family years ago by his grandfather, Graham MacKenzie.”

“The thing is, Grandpa wrote a note saying he promised you half of any treasure he found.” Brody must have rested up enough to speak. “We’re sure it’s his writing, and we intend to honor the debt he owed. He also said you had information.”

Mr. Westbrook straightened and blinked. “He did?”

“It would have been thirty years ago, sir.” Brody rested his hand on his chest. “And he said ... well, that part of his treasure was yours, and we’d need to know what you know to .

.. to... Sorry, but is there somewhere I can lie down for a bit?

” Brody asked faintly. Then he sagged sideways on the divan and passed out.