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“Do for yourself, for no one else will.”
    Mattie had demonstrated the truth of that philosophy by overcoming her own worrying nature and winning Pearce Cates two years ago, when he’d been one of the half-dozen men smitten with Courtney.
    Mattie had never held Pearce’s infatuation with Courtney against her friend. She’d been so pleased for Courtney when she’d changed from an ugly duckling into a beautiful swan, and she thought it hilarious when men who had barely noticed Courtney was alive suddenly fell all over themselves when they saw her.
    Mattie sometimes thought of Courtney as her own creation. Not the beauty, of course, for that had come from growing several inches in the last two years and from working so hard that the last of her baby fat melted away. But Courtney wasn’t as timid and nervous as she used to be, nor did she take everything heaped on her as if she were deserving of it. It had taken prodding and pushing and bullying, but Mattie liked to think she had put a little spunk into her friend.
    Why, Courtney even stood up to Sarah now, not always, but certainly more than she used to. Even Mattie couldn’t get away with bullying Courtney anymore. Courtney had come to realize how much courage she had.
    Courtney set the empty laundry basket on the washtub next to Mattie. “Well, Miss Impatience, let’s go.”
    Mattie cocked her head to the side. “Ain’t you gonna change your dress or fix your hair or somethin’?”
    Courtney pulled off the ribbon holding her long brown hair, retied it, and then smoothed down the rest. “There.”
    Mattie chuckled. “I guess you’ll do. Your old dresses still look better’n my best calico.”
    Courtney’s cheeks pinkened slightly, but she turned away so Mattie wouldn’t see. She was still making do with the wardrobe she had owned four years ago when she first came to Rockley, even though she had outgrown it entirely and the colors were all the light pastels favored by younger girls. If her clothes hadn’t been so big to begin with, she wouldn’t have managed, but she had been able to take everything in to fit her much slimmer figure, and some of her gowns had had large enough hems to let down. Most had had to be lengthened, though, with scraps of material.
    But Courtney’s old clothes of silk and muslin, China crêpe and mohair, her finely laced collars, fichus, and basques, even her summer and winter wraps of superior velvet, were all out of place in Rockley. And Courtney had never liked to stand out in a crowd. Her looks made her noticeable as it was, and she was dismayed that her clothes only made things worse.
    Rockley was a small town, having only recently acquired two saloons and a brothel. There was a marked lack of young marriageable women, and so Courtney found herself being courted seriously in the last two years.
    When Richard, the young blacksmith, asked her to marry him, she was so surprised she nearly grabbed him and kissed him. An honest-to-God proposal of marriage, when she’d thought never to be asked! But the blacksmithmerely wanted a wife. He didn’t love her. Too, she didn’t love him, nor did she love Judd Baker or Billy or Pearce, all of whom wanted to marry her. And she certainly didn’t love Reed Taylor, who was currently pursuing her. He took it for granted that he would win her.
    â€œDid you ever hear of a Mr. Chandos, Mattie?”
    Courtney blushed, wondering why the question had popped out. They were walking toward the front of the hotel, and Mattie replied thoughtfully, “Can’t say as I have. Sounds like a name out of one of your history lessons, like those ancient knights you used to tell me about.”
    â€œYes, it does have a certain classical ring to it, doesn’t it?”
    â€œSounds kinda Spanish, too. Why’d you ask?”
    â€œNo reason.” Courtney shrugged.
    Mattie wasn’t having any of