After putting his affairs in order in Chicago, he’d telegrammed Flynn with his plans to head to Denver. A return telegram from Flynn had been waiting for him when he’d arrived after daybreak this morning at the Pinkerton office in Denver. It had informed him of the date of the surprise barn raising and asked him to be there. At first Jericho hadn’t planned to come, hadn’t felt worthy to be there on the special day. But when the morning had ticked away, an urgency had seized him and hadn’t let go until finally he’d headed on out.

Didn’t matter that Flynn had seen him riding up to Ivy’s place and was the first to approach him when he dismounted. Didn’t matter that Flynn stretched out his hand to greet him warmly—and that neither his gun nor his fist made an appearance. Didn’t matter that Flynn invited him to participate in the roping contest.

All that mattered was what Ivy thought. And clearly she had no desire to see him.

He closed his eyes to fight against the despair that had ridden with him the past weeks as he’d journeyed back to Colorado. He’d guessed this was how things would go, had tried to prepare himself. But he’d been hoping Ivy would at least give him a chance to explain himself and plead with her.

And he’d rehearsed what he had to say at least a hundred times.

Drawing in a fortifying breath, he opened his eyes and scanned the area. He couldn’t give up. He’d have to figure out a way to talk to her without allowing her another opportunity to run off.

He grabbed the coil of rope on his saddle. Using a stealthy and silent tread he’d perfected over the years, he circled round the cabin and climbed beyond the spot where he’d glimpsed her. Then he sidled in, keeping low and concealing himself as best he could behind the smattering of pines.

With the deepening of the evening, the forest was shadowed, but he had no trouble finding her. She’d hunkered down behind a boulder and leaned back, her legs stretched out in front of her. Her split skirt fell away revealing the trousers underneath that clung to her endlessly long legs.

She rested her head against the boulder, her hat on her lap. She’d let her hair down, likely when she swiped off her hat. And now the long dark waves tumbled over her shoulders in a glorious thick curtain, framing her beautiful face, highlighting the darkness of her eyes and lashes.

At the crack of a stick somewhere in the forest, she stiffened and glanced over her shoulder, peeking around her hiding place, clearly expecting him to approach from the front.