Her father didn't glance up. "Hm." He scratched his head and sniffed. "I wonder if that silly woman can spell her own name, let alone add a column of figures."

"Daddy? Are you listening?"

"Yes, of course. In a minute, dear. I didn't realize you were hungry. We'll leave shortly. Sheldon found a nice place to eat, he said."

"Trust Sheldon to do so," Laura said. She straightened and fixed her father with a thoughtful gaze. "Daddy?"

"Hm?"

In a bright voice, she said, "Daddy, have you held Jonathan yet?"

He flicked a disinterested glance toward the bed. "Not right now, darling. I haven't time." He frowned over his papers again. "I do believe that dressmaker tallied this column of figures incorrectly."

Echoes from the past. Laura tipped her head and thought back over everything that had been said since her father had entered the room. One word kept repeating itself. Daddy. And suddenly the present seemed blended with a thousand yesterdays, and she heard herself, clamoring for her father's attention, saying that same word, over and over. Daddy. Daddy! Daddy? A rather desperate note laced it each time. A plea. What she was actually saying was, "Look at me. Pay attention to me." But he never had.

Laura gave a little laugh. "Oh, dear. Will the error bankrupt us?"

He glanced up, still scowling. "Of course not. I simply don't wish to overpay."

"Heaven forbid." Laura gave Jonathan a jiggle and bent to kiss his cheek. "You're right. That's far more important than holding your grandson."

"Hm." Apparently oblivious, he readjusted his spectacles on his nose. "There is a discrepancy. Of five dollars, if I've figured correctly."

Laura jiggled the bed again and watched her son's eyes widen. An ache filled her as she thought of Deke. She had never had to ask him to hold Jonathan; he always volunteered. And he had been as excited as she whenever the baby did something new.

A first smile... To her father, it meant nothing. To Deke, it would have meant the world, and he had missed seeing it.

That evening just before dusk, Deke went out to sit on his front stoop and gazed at the low hill across the creek where he had always planned to build a house one day. A big one with five bedrooms for a passel of kids. Pine and cottonwood grew over there. The grass was brilliant green. The view of the Rockies was fantastic.

Beckoned by dreams, he pushed up and strolled that way, Chief plodding happily along beside him. Deke's hired hands had butchered a steer day before yesterday, so the dog had a new bone clamped between his teeth.

When he reached the creek, Deke picked his way across on stepping stones, then leaped to the bank. He imagined how it might be if Laura were with him now. Her first question would probably be, "Are there leeches in that water?" He smiled at the thought as he walked among the trees. The breeze whispered softly in the cottonwood leaves and creaked the pine boughs. It seemed to him the whispers said her name, over and over. Laura...

He knew she was probably gone by now. Deke didn't peg Sterling Van Hauessen as a man who would let any grass grow under his feet. He had probably booked passage on the first eastbound stage. Deke wasn't familiar with the route. He wondered where Laura and Jonathan would stay tonight. Then he shoved the question aside. They were out of his life now. He had to stop thinking about them every waking moment.

Lengthening his stride to measure a yard, Deke paced off the spot where he wanted to build his foundation for the house. After all, Laura might come back to Colorado, and if she did, he wanted everything to be ready for her.

Fool. She'll never come back here, and you damned well know it. Deke broke his pace and gazed at his cabin. One miserable room, and none too clean at that. He was crazy for hoping a woman like Laura might want to spend the rest of her life here. Five weeks ago, she had detested everything about this country, including him. Once she was settled back in Boston and got another taste of the good life, she'd be thanking her lucky stars she wasn't here.

Leaning against a tree, Deke fixed his gaze on the mountains and imagined that all his hopes and dreams were being carried away by the whispering gusts of the Colorado wind. It was over, and he had to accept that. Somehow he had to get on with his life.

Time lost substance. Deke wasn't sure how long he stood there, staring at those mountains through a shimmer of tears. The dusk deepened to that pinkish twilight that comes just before full darkness. An eerie time of day, he thought. Full of shadows. And loneliness. Time for an evening fire, but there wasn't much point in building one when he had no one to share it with.

"Deee-eeke?"

He blinked and cocked his head to glance at Chief. The dog just lay there, his breaths coming in slow huffs that would soon be snores.

"Deee-eeke? Yoo-hoooo!"

Deke straightened and peered through the trees toward the cabin. A figure stood in the shadows of the stoop overhang. He didn't recognize the horse. He moved slowly forward, his right hand hanging loose at his side, his fingers flexing. In this country, a man never knew when trouble might come knocking at his door.

As he strode out of the trees, the figure on his stoop came down the step. A woman. In a leather dress. He froze and stared at her, not quite able to believe his eyes. Amber hair. Even in the poor light, the braid that encircled her crown gleamed like whiskey held up to firelight. On her back, she wore a cradleboard.

It couldn't be... She was gone.

Putting her hands on her hips, she walked around the side of the house and peered out across the grassland. Deke's gaze fell to the seductive sway of her walk, to the graceful curve of leg where it met slender ankle. He quickened his pace.

"Laura?"

At the sound of his voice, she whirled. Then she broke into a run. He did as well. They met at the creek, each drawing up on an opposite bank, their gazes routing through the shadows, clinging. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak. Deke wanted to ask her a dozen questions, most important if she was there to stay. But he was afraid to hear her answer.

The seconds ticked past, measured by his heartbeats. She began to look uneasy. Then she tipped her head, her expression questioning. "Have you seen Deke Sheridan around here anywhere?"

That was a damned fool question if ever he had heard one. Before he could tell her so, she said, "I've been wading ankle-deep through cow manure for the last ten miles. My son is exhausted. I'm exhausted. Isn't that just like a man, never where he says he'll be when his wife needs him?"

Deke swallowed hard. "What're you doin' here, Boston? I thought we agreed you was gonna"

"Jonathan smiled today, and you missed it," she cut in.

"What?"

She stepped a little closer to the water's edge. "He smiled, Deke. His first real smile."

"He did?" Deke glanced at the dark head resting on her shoulder. "Well, I'll be."

"Daddy was too busy to even come look."

"Well, he hasn't been around Jonathan much. Maybe he don't realize what a big deal his first smile is."

"Smiles aren't important to him," she said softly. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she just stood there for a moment, her expression wistful. "Smiles are something I can't live without. Does that make any sense at all?"

Deke gazed across the creek at her, at her sweet face, into her pleading eyes. It was crazy, absolutely crazy. What woman in her right mind would give up everything that her father had to offer in exchange for a smile? But knowing Laura as he did, knowing what he did about her life, he understood what she couldn't seem to put into words.

"Laura, darlin', I don't even got a house. Just a one-room cabin, and it ain't too clean."

She glanced over her shoulder. "I can clean it up. And I don't care how many rooms it has as long as Jonathan and I can live there with you."

"I ain't got water plumbed in."

"You can help me haul it in buckets."

"It needs to be caulked. The wind whistles through the cracks, and unless I get a house built, it'll be colder than a witch's tit in there come winter."

"We'll spoon to keep warm."

"Spoon?"

She gave him a quavery smile. "You don't mean to tell me you ain't never spooned? What does folks do here in Colorado for excitement?"

With four long strides, Deke lunged across the creek and gained the opposite bank. Dripping wet, he scooped Laura into his arms. "Jesus, honey, are you sure?"

She clung to his neck. Deke pressed his face against her hair. His jaw rested on Jonathan's silken head. He closed his eyes, inhaling the scents he had thought never to smell again. Laura and Jonathan. To Deke, they had become as necessary as breathing.

"I'm sure," she whispered. "I have to tell you, though, that I made the decision with my heart and not my head. In all my life, there has been only one person who stood by me through everything, only one person who loved me just because I'm me. I know you'll love my son just as unconditionally."

"Just as what?"

She hugged him more tightly and started to laugh. "Oh, Deke, I love you. Unconditionally. It means no matter what. And that's how you love us. All day long I kept thinking of all the things Daddy could give Jonathan. Everything money can buy. But don't you see? Things aren't important. It's who you share them with. It's hugs and teasing and laughter. It's talking to one another and listening. It's caring about feelings. In Boston, neither of us would have you, and without you, our lives would be empty." She leaned back to search his gaze. "Do you understand what I'm saying? You don't come with any guarantees, but what in life does? All we can do is take the very best life has to offer today and take our chances on tomorrow. If I've got to take risks, I want everything that matters to me riding on you."

Taking chances. Deke supposed she was right. Life was one big gamble, no matter where you were, Colorado or Boston or points in between. On the other hand, though, every good poker player knew that luck, good or bad, usually came in runs. Up to this moment in his life, he had been dealt some pretty lousy hands. He was long overdue for a winning streak.

He leaned around to look at Jonathan. "You say he smiled?"

"Twice. And just as big as you please!"

Deke rocked back to see her face. Amber hair and amber eyes. Behind her rose the Rockies, majestic black crags that were already reaching into the night. He had set her free, and she had come back to him. Not for money. Not for all the fine things he might give her. But for a smile, of all things. It just happened that he had plenty of those on hand to give her.

In Cheyenne he whispered, "Was he kee, she, ke."

"What?" she asked softly.

"It is a very fine day," he translated. "It's what the Cheyenne say when good things begin. Was he kee, she, ke."

"Was he kee, she, ke," she repeated.

As they gazed into each other's eyes, both knew that this was more than just the beginning of something good. It was the beginning of something beautiful.

For the three of them.

end.