After a long silence, Murdock nodded. “There are some things you need to know first, Ginny. I don’t know if Steve has told you all of it or only a little, but Elizabeth Cady was married to the man responsible for nearly getting Steve killed. Jared provoked a fight, but as you can imagine, Steve prevailed. Unfortunately, Jared had friends with him who decided to finish the job. They swore Steve had drawn first, and if he hadn’t been wounded so badly, they would have strung him up then and there. Mrs. Cady nursed him back to health so he could go to trial. She wanted him to pay for what she believed was her husband’s wrongful death.”

He watched her face as she talked, and Ginny nodded. “I can see how she would feel that way. And I’m not really surprised that Steve managed to convince her otherwise.”

“Understand that there were other things going on then, too, between the cattlemen and Prendergast. Land rights and water rights are vital here, and a balance is needed so that all can coexist in harmony. A full-scale range war was developing until Steve took over. Once he was cleared of Cady’s murder, he prevented that war, and no doubt saved quite a few lives in the process. During that time when he thought you were dead, he and Mrs. Cady became…close.”

A vise seemed to squeeze her heart, slowing crushing it as she thought of Steve with another woman. This was so different than all the others—he had a child with this woman! How could she bear it if she didn’t find out, if she didn’t know whether Elizabeth Cady wanted him? She had a bond with him, a blood tie of their shared child. Would she use it to draw Steve back? Could he be induced to return to her?

The noise of carriage wheels on the crushed rock of the curving road in front of the house grew louder, then stopped. Springs squeaked slightly as the driver stepped down to the road and waited in courteous silence.

Ginny took a deep breath. “I understand what you are saying, Sam, but I must see for myself.”

“I will have the driver take you there. I hope this resolution gives you some peace.”

“So do I,” she said as she turned to the waiting carriage. “So do I.”

Serrated ridges were cushioned by shreds of cloud, faint wisps that wreathed the crisp peaks like a woman’s lacy shawl. It was spring, but it was still early enough not to trust a sudden snowstorm to descend upon them and bury the ranch in drifts of smothering ice.

A single carriage approached at a fast pace, stirring a faint haze behind huge wheels as it navigated the deep ruts of the road leading to the Burneson ranch.