Fortunately, Papa mostly stayed hidden in the back of the shop. This relieved her of having to explain his inattention and his disheveled appearance. It also kept him out of gossip's way.

As did everything else in town, last week's train wreck caused much controversy. Some townsfolk blamed Papa for the train wreck, but Farrell took equal blame. Others claimed that the railroad should take full responsibility for not adhering to its own time schedule.

Meg's reputation was a whole different matter. She saw the looks and heard the whispers that were still all over town. Better watch what you say in front of her. Don't promise her anything, or you might end up in court.

Many thought she had halted her wedding to get even with Tommy for leaving her at the altar. As if she would do such a thing! Thanks to the Gazette though, she was no longer known as the "jilted bride." She was now referred to as the "avenging angel."

Even with all of that, it wasn't just the gossip that kept her close to home and shop. She feared bumping into Grant. She even stayed away from church on Sunday, knowing he would be there. Each time they met, the sight of him made forgetting him-forgetting all that they shared-that much harder.

There were many types of silence. Some, like the silence of nature, were comforting and restful. Some were empty and hollow, like the silence of death. But the worst silence of all was the silence of the human heart.

Thirty-four.

Meg could hardly find a path to Josie's door for all the pots of poinsettias and white ranunculus. The heady scents made Meg want to sneeze, and she pulled her handkerchief out of her sleeve. The last time she had seen so many flowers in one place was at a funeral.

"What's all this?" she asked when Josie answered her knock.

Josie rolled her eyes. "Papa. If Mama doesn't forgive him soon, I fear there'll be no more flowers left in all of Texas."

"Is Mama here?"

Josie nodded. "Come in."

The smell of freshly baked bread teased Meg's nose as she followed Josie into the kitchen. Mama was sitting at the table. Setting her needlepoint aside, she stood and greeted Meg with a smile and a hug.

"Have some tea," Mama said, taking her seat again.

Meg pulled out a chair opposite her. It had been more than two weeks since Mama moved out, but you would never know it by appearances. She looked calm and beautiful, as always. Not a good sign. Papa was a wreck, but her mother looked close to her usual self. Only the slightest shadows beneath her eyes suggested otherwise.

"You must come home, Mama. Papa misses you. We all do."

A frown flitted across her mother's forehead. "Did your father put you up to this?"

"He doesn't even know I'm here."

Mama gave her a slanted look before picking up her stitchery, but said nothing.

"Mama, please..."

Mama stabbed the fabric with a needle. "Meg, I know you mean well..."

"I just want our family back together again. Is that so wrong of me?"

Mama's hand stilled. "Even after what your father put us through? The trial? The train wreck? People could have been killed. If that's not bad enough, he ruined your wedding-and in church, no less. How can you forget what he did?"

Meg wanted to forget about the wedding. About both weddings. "Papa feels bad. You should see him, Mama. You wouldn't recognize him. He hardly eats and doesn't sleep, and he let all the clocks run down at the house."

As a child, Meg had hated the myriad of clocks that adorned the walls of the parlor and dining room. Hated how the bells and chimes kept urging her on. Ticktock, bong, bong, cuckoo... Time for school. Time for church. Time for this and time for that. Hurry, hurry, mustn't dawdle.

It seemed as if the sole purpose of time was to prove one's limitations. She was always running late and could never rise to the challenge posed by the mountain of ticking clocks. There was never enough time to leisurely ponder the universe or contemplate the mysteries of young womanhood. There were always chores to be done, lessons to be learned. Wasting time was thought to be the eighth deadly sin. How strange that the thing that could cause such anxiety was thought to heal all wounds!

Mama's mouth drooped at the corners, and she suddenly looked tired. She jabbed the needle into the fabric and set the hoop on the table.

"I've been married to your father for a good many years. Since before the war... To find out that he doubted my love all this time, that the feud, the train wreck...all that was because of me." Shaking her head, Mama drew in her breath. "How can I forgive him for that?"

Meg exchanged a look with Josie. How much did her sister know about the circumstances of her birth? She drew her gaze back to her mother. "It wasn't you he didn't trust. Papa didn't trust himself. He didn't think himself worthy of you." Growing up, Meg would never have guessed that behind all Papa's swagger and bluster beat the heart of an insecure man. Even as she said it, the idea was hard to believe. "Don't you see, Mama?"

"No, I don't see." Elbow on the table, Mama placed a hand on her forehead and rested her head. "All he's ever been interested in is controlling time. I've had it up to here with his clocks and watches and bells and..."

"That's just his way of trying to look bigger and more important in your eyes," Josie said.

It was a surprising insight and one that Meg hadn't even considered. But isn't that how she wished she could look to Grant? Like one of those sophisticated women back east who could play the piano, wear French fashions, and read important books. How foolish to think that a plain, small-town girl like her could capture the heart of a man like him!

"That's...that's ridiculous."

"Mama, listen to me." Meg reached for her mother's hand. "Papa thought you married him because you had to." She clamped her mouth shut and glanced at Josie.

As if guessing her thoughts, Josie laid a hand on her shoulder. "I know, Meg. Mama was expecting me when she married Pa."

Meg drew her hand away from Mama and stared at her sister. "How did you-"

"When Grandmama died, she left us the family Bible. One day, I happened to notice the date of Mama and Papa's wedding written inside."

Mama nodded. "Your grandmother wrote my wedding date in the Bible before she knew I was expecting. How did you know?" she asked Meg.

"Papa told me. He feels guilty about what happened and blames himself."

Mama shook her head. "He has a lot to blame himself for, but not that. I take equal responsibility for what happened all those years ago." She reached for Josie's hand. "It was the best mistake I ever made."

Josie leaned over to kiss her mother on the cheek. She then turned to the steaming kettle on the stove.

Mama's eyes glazed over, as if she were traveling back through time. After a moment, a soft smile curved her mouth. "You should have seen your father when he was young. He was such a handsome man. I was afraid when he went to war that he'd come back broken like so many others, but he didn't. Instead, he got this town moving again. He brought us together by ringing his bell every hour. It made us laugh, but it was also a reminder that none of us were alone in this world. We were part of a community."

"Mama, how can we get Mr. Farrell and Papa to stop fighting?"

Her mother sighed. "Sometimes a feud becomes bigger than the people involved. I'm afraid that's what happened here." Her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, Mama. Please don't cry," Meg said, even as her own eyes watered.

Josie rushed to join them, tears spilling down her cheeks, and the three of them sat around the table bawling like babies.

After a while, Meg calmed her weeping and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. "Tell me what Papa has to do to make you come back."

Mama brushed away her tears with her fingers. "The one thing he's totally incapable of doing. The one thing his pride won't let him do. Make peace with Farrell."

Grant left the jailhouse and mounted his horse. Kidd's hanging had been postponed for the holidays, and now the train wreck had caused another two-week delay. Every able body had been needed to clear the tracks, leaving no one free to assemble the portable scaffold. That made the criminal the only one in town, other than doctors and salvage workers, to benefit from the crash.

Turning down Jackleg Row, Grant reined in his horse. A line of people waited in front of his office. What's more, similar lines snaked up to the doors of the other legal offices on the street.

What the-?

The answer to his question came moments later, after he dismounted.

"You Mr. Garrison?" asked a man with his arm in a sling.

"Yes, that's right."

His answer made everyone start talking at once. Grant signaled for them to stop. "Please, one at a time." He pointed to a thin man with a bandage on his head. "What can I do for you?"

The man spit out a wad of tobacco. "We're all here for the same reason. To sue the railroad."

Of course. Grant should have known. An accident of that magnitude was bound to tie the court up in litigation. "Let's go inside."

Unlocking the door to his office was like opening the floodgates. He almost got knocked over as people stampeded past him.

His books were still packed, and cartons towered in the corner of the room. A local shipping company had been paid to take them to the depot on the fatal day of the train crash, and it had taken them several days to return the boxes to his office, fortunately with little damage.

Grant regarded the group with mixed feelings. Given the inefficiency and time-consuming chore of filing individual lawsuits, he explained the concept of group litigation. It would have been easier to explain politics to a two-year-old.

"I don't understand. Why can't I file my own lawsuit?" one man on crutches demanded to know.

"You can. But you can accomplish the same thing by doing it as a group. Especially since some of the victims have already left town and won't be around to testify."

"Are you sayin' we hafta share the settl'ment?" another asked.

"Yes, but it will be a far larger settlement than if you file individually."

On and on the questions came, like a pump spitting out single drops of water. It took all morning and a portion of the afternoon to convince everyone that group litigation was best.

No sooner had the last client walked out of his office than Grant sank back in his chair and stared at the stack of paper on his desk. Now that Judge Lynch had left town, paperwork had to be dispatched to the county offices via mail or telegraph, causing yet another delay.

Judge Lynch did grant Tommy a ten-day extension to get his money together and pay the Lockwoods, and the judge had also surprised Grant with a proposal. He'd asked if Grant would be interested in serving on a committee to form a Texas bar association to promote the uniformity of legislature and uphold the honor of the legal profession.

It was an intriguing idea and one that Grant would normally jump at, but he wasn't sure how long he planned to stay in town. He had a better feeling for Two-Time since the train wreck, though on the surface nothing had changed. Daily disputes with fists, firearms, or bluster were the norm.

Still, knowing how everything-even feuds-was forgotten in the face of trouble made the town's peculiarities easier to bear.

As for Meg...

No matter how hard he tried putting her out of his mind, memories kept popping up with annoying regularity. Sometimes he woke in the dead of night to the sound of her laughter. At other times he'd be thinking of something else entirely when a vision of her suddenly clouded his thoughts.

He grimaced as he recalled the last words she'd said to him. I do love him, you know.

He couldn't imagine anyone throwing that love away for a bunch of tropical isles. Tommy Farrell was a fool. But then, so was Grant for pining after a woman who had made it clear she had no interest in him whatsoever.

Business had started booming, and he was tempted to stay, but how could he? Every time he gazed out the window, he searched for her. Even worse, the hourly ring of the Lockwood bell reminded him of New Year's. Staying in this town would be nothing short of torture.

The door swung open, bringing him out of his reverie, and in walked Tucker.

Grant turned his swivel chair around to face the boy straight on. "Hi, Tucker. What can I do for you today?"

The swelling had gone down on Tucker's forehead, and only a slight blue mark appeared between strands of hay-colored hair. "I want to sue the railroad."

Grant folded his hands across his middle. Tucker had no way of knowing he would be included in the collective lawsuit. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, and since you're my lawyer, I figured you'd know what to do."

"Your law-" Grant rubbed his chin. He did say once he was the boy's lawyer, no denying that. He pointed to the chair. "Sit." The boy had gumption, that's for sure. In some ways Tucker reminded him of himself at that age. He waited for Tucker to be seated, then replied, "I'll handle your case." And because the boy looked so earnest and determined to file the lawsuit himself, Grant added, "But it'll cost you more than a quarter."

Tucker dug into his pocket. "That's okay. I can afford it. See..." He held out his hand. "This time I have two quarters."

Meg arrived home after work to find Josie waiting on the Lockwoods' front porch.

"Everything all right? Is Mama...?"

"Mama's fine. Papa home?"

"No, he's still at the shop. Why?"

"I need to talk to you and Amanda. Is she here?"

"I don't know." Meg walked into the house and called up to the second floor. "Mandy!"

Amanda appeared at the top of the stairs with a mop in one hand and a kerchief on her head. Meg couldn't recall ever seeing her sister look so domesticated. Since Mama left, it had fallen to Amanda to tackle the regular household chores, which put her in a perpetually bad mood.

"What is it?" she snapped.

"Come on down. Josie's here."

Meg led Josie to the parlor where Amanda joined them, mop still in hand. "What's going on?" she demanded. "When's Mama coming home?"

Josie sighed. "I don't know. She still refuses to talk to Papa. She won't even talk to me about it."

Meg felt wretched, the burden of guilt almost too much to bear. If only she'd kept her big mouth shut.

"I have something you both need to see." Josie waved an envelope. She opened it and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. The paper crinkled as she unfolded it and began to read.