“It is good to see you after all this time. I’ve missed you a great deal, Heather.”

She glanced beyond him to see the private carriage waiting in the drive.

“If you are wondering why I am here… I’ve come to see how you go on. Will you not invite me in?”

Heather recognized her rudeness at leaving a guest standing on the doorstep, but she wasn’t certain she trusted Evan. And yet his manner seemed conciliatory enough. And it was good to see a familiar face from home. “Yes, of course. Do come in.”

Reluctantly she stepped aside and took his hat and cane. “May I offer you tea?”

“I should like that, thank you. The drive from Denver was long and dusty.”

“I shall put the kettle on.” She hesitated. “You may wait in the parlor, or accompany me to the kitchen, if you prefer.”

“The kitchen, if that is where you will be.”

Heather led Evan to the back of the house, wondering what he could have to say to her that would warrant his traveling such a great distance. He paused when he spied the child. Janna had pulled herself to her feet and stood clinging unsteadily to the wooden leg of a chair, staring at the newcomer with wide, solemn eyes.

“This is McCord’s Indian daughter?”

Heather felt her shoulders stiffen reflexively as she prepared to defend Janna from any possible slur. “Yes, this is Janna McCord. But I consider her my daughter now.”

Evan viewed the raven-haired toddler critically. “Those eyes and cheekbones are striking. I expect she will grow up to be a rare beauty.”

Hearing the sincerity in his tone, Heather breathed more easily. Evan Randolf was a legendary connoisseur of beauty, and it gratified her to have him praise Janna’s attributes rather than focus on her mixed blood. “Please, have a seat.”

Taking Janna’s hand, Heather led the child to her blanket to play with her toys, then turned to fill the teakettle and set it on the stove to boil. Her guest settled at the table to watch her.

From the corner of her eye, Heather saw him survey the serviceable kitchen. When he pressed his lips together, she wondered if Evan Randolf had ever even been inside a kitchen. In St. Louis he had an army of underlings to see to his every whim.

“You have no servants?” he asked after a moment.

Heather couldn’t repress a smile. “Not a one, I’m afraid. Although Sloan’s ranch hands are always willing to help if I need assistance.”

“It must be difficult, managing under such adverse circumstances.”

“It isn’t so bad. Actually I find depending on myself to be a challenge.”

“Your family would be dismayed to see you thus.”