Cole whispered, leaning against a fallen pine, the worn leather of his saddle against his back. The stars were scattershot across the dark sky and it had been a long two hours of thinking about how ashamed of him his mother would be. Duke huffed a deep breath into Cole’s ear, and he reached up to scratch at his horse’s nose. He should have shot Jimmy on the way up from Denver, because if there was ever a man who needed to be shot, it was Jimmy. But he needed Steven’s letters. He needed whatever information Jimmy had about his brother. And so he’d let that woman walk into the house, knowing that whatever happened to her, a good part of it was his fault. He’d been flirting with her. Charmed despite himself. Cole pushed himself to his feet just as the front door opened and Mrs. Hurst came out. Her hair had come down in pieces, long blonde ropes falling to her waist.
