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T en

Tilda almost enjoyed getting to know Ben.

Almost.

Ben had breakfast with her every morning, and she joined them after supper every night. Tilda helped get the children to bed, then went to the main house and joined the family for supper. And, with Josh always at her side, she’d spent the evenings with Ben.

She listened to every word he said about her father, her sister, her mother—the woman who gave birth to her—and her father’s wife, the woman who had raised Ben and Maddie.

They traded off asking questions, and she thought Ben was generous in his answers.

Though he had an intensity about him that made her nervous still, it seemed he was being honest with her.

He loved his father at the same time that he acknowledged the man had ignored his children for too long.

He didn’t have much good to say about her mother.

Though he didn’t claim it was as bad as being abandoned on the streets, like Tilda had been, he spoke of experiencing hunger and cold as a child, as well as a woman who was quick with a swat and harsh in her scolding.

He admired without reserve his father’s wife, the woman who’d raised him for ten years after the woman who’d given birth to him had died.

Tilda came to think of his mother, Constance Cabril, as Mrs. Cabril, and his ma as Johanna.

She studied Ben as he talked, trying to get an impression. Was his deep intensity honor, or was it ruthlessness? She couldn’t quite decide, and it kept her wary.

He definitely resembled her. He had her eyes, as dark as the coffee Gretel poured them. His hair was cut short. He’d have had black curls to match hers if he let his hair grow longer.

He told her he’d ridden to California in his father’s private train car.

He’d left the train behind at the closest town with facilities for such a thing, and he’d ridden the regular train the last few miles.

Now that train awaited his summons. Hopefully to take Tilda home with him, though he seemed to have accepted she wasn’t going.

“Father is in shipping, Josh, so you might enjoy talking with him, though he hasn’t gone to sea for years.

Anyway, you might find things in common.

He imports goods, mainly from the Caribbean—he has a special love for that area—and he exports goods to Europe.

” Ben turned from Tilda’s constant companion.

“We live in a big, beautiful house with three floors—eight bedrooms on the second floor and servants’ quarters on the third. ”

“I have a hard time imagining a house so big. And servants?” Tilda shook her head as Ben drew pictures with words.

“It’s a fine yellow house built with clapboards, not logs like you have out here.”

Tilda thought there was a tone to that comment, like he was criticizing this house as being backwater. She wondered if her father had ever used any of his shipping money to educate orphans.

“Over the years, he spoke often of you, Tilda.” Ben turned his black eyes back to her and reached across the table to clasp her hands.

“He prayed for you and feared for you. Sometimes he mourned for you. He and Mother truly wanted to welcome you into their home. Now I spend time every day writing long letters to him, telling him everything we’ve spoken of.

He’s sent a few telegraphs full of relief and excitement. He wants to see you so badly.”

“I appreciate knowing that, but I’m still not going to New York City with you, Ben.” Tilda pulled her hands away from his grasp, tugging hard to free herself. The strangely intense way he talked scared her.

Josh must have noticed because he right away took her hand in his.

Ben noticed too. The expression in his eyes was bleak, as if he were trying desperately to think of just what to say to convince her to leave with him. “But mostly he’s just happy to hear you’re alive and well.”

Zane and Michelle tended to linger too, Michelle having a lot of questions for Ben. Tilda was happy to let Michelle ask them. In fact, Tilda was learning more about her brother through Michelle’s insightful questions than her own.

The MacKenzie boys, for their part, wandered up to their room.

Apparently Ben didn’t interest them much.

Annie didn’t sit around for long either, since she had Caroline to tend, and the little girl went to sleep early.

Now that Tilda had moved into the girls’ dormitory, Annie had quit spending the night there.

After the long evenings of talking, Josh always walked her home.

She slept near the children. She taught school every day. But instead of helping get the children up and through breakfast, then staying to help cook and serve supper, she ate in the ranch house. With mixed emotions, she spent nearly all her spare time getting acquainted with her brother.

Tilda kept expecting him to bring a letter from her father, but nothing came. It had been long enough for him to write following the first telegraph, and she wondered what was keeping him. Was he more upset at her refusal to come than Ben suggested?

Even though she was getting to know her family from Ben’s stories, she still couldn’t imagine riding away from here with him. She’d ridden alone all the way west in search of Thayne and Lock, but somehow going with Ben seemed more dangerous than going alone.

Ben urged her to write directly to her father, Carl Cabril.

“I’m not ready to do that yet. I don’t even know what to call him.” Tilda sat across the breakfast table from Ben. It was a Saturday, so there was no school.

Today she’d been determined to be brave, so on the walk over, she’d told Josh, “I know you don’t have a full day to spend talking with my brother. I heard you say you’re getting ready for roundup and need to move the cattle to better grass.”

“There’s always work, Tilda, but it’s only right to put you first. Are you safe alone with him?”

She looked at Josh, and their gazes held. “I don’t see how he could harm me, not with a ranch full of men just outside. And moreover, I don’t see why he’d harm me. He needs me to be alive and well to get me back to New York, doesn’t he? And I feel like I’m starting to trust him some.”

Josh nodded silently, not looking all that happy about the prospect of letting her and Ben talk alone together.

“I’ll let you stay in the house with him, but I’ll be within shouting distance across the ranch yard.”

Tilda heard the threat in that, and she fully appreciated it. So this morning, there in the house, surrounded by a busy working ranch, she sat alone with Ben for the first time.

“Tilda, I want to tell you again, I love you. I remember you as a child, and I’ve always longed for you and feared for you.”

His eyes flashed when he said this ... in a way that reminded her there’d been a time she’d been afraid of him.

“I will say one more thing. Our father didn’t get to be a wealthy man by accepting failure.”

“Everyone has to accept some failure, Ben. He can’t succeed at everything he tries.

What could be a greater failure than having three children and ignoring them for years?

What greater failure is there than leaving his children in the care of a drunkard, who threw one of the youngsters out onto the street? ”

“He lets that torment him. Absolutely. But I don’t mean his failure, I mean mine . I mean the failure of those he employs. He’s a good man, but you don’t get this rich and powerful without being a hard man. I’ve always wondered how deep his love really goes. I’ve made it a point to never fail him.”

He pulled the painting of her twin out of his satchel again, rose to his feet, and came around the table. She realized she liked having the table between them. As she stood and turned to face him, he held up the picture, drawing her attention to it.

“Please believe me when I say I have no choice.”

A hand clamped over her mouth and nose. A heavy, sweet-smelling rag cut off her breathing. As she gasped in shock, the rag made her throat burn and her brain fog.

“It takes a few moments. I measured out a dose that won’t harm her, but she’ll be sleeping for a while. Keep the bottle handy in case it wears off before we get going...”

She heard Ben speak those words as she slid down a long tunnel toward unconsciousness.

Then, just before she disappeared into that tunnel, she heard another voice, one she didn’t recognize: “Your private cars should be in town by now, and they aren’t gonna like it if they’re sitting there when the regular train comes through.”