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anything. Her father was gone, and nothing she did would ever bring him back.
    "What about you?” she asked stiffly, a little embarrassed by her near bout of feminine waterworks. “How did you feel when your wife died?"
    "I'm not done asking about your life yet,” Lucas said, reaching out to turn the rabbit so it would cook evenly. “What did you do after your father died? Do you have any other family?"
    "Of course. My mother lives in
New York
. She never liked living out here in
Kansas
—she says it's desolate and savage—so she stayed in the city."
    "Anyone else?"
    "My brother and his wife live just outside of Leavenworth. Caleb and Rebecca built up their own cattle ranch after their son, Zachary, was born. Now they have two children. Zach is four, and little Cinnamon Rose is less than a month old.” Megan frowned. “I still don't know why they named her that; Caleb refuses to tell me. They call her Rose."
    "It sounds like they're very happy."
    She nodded. “They tried to get me to move in with them after Papa died, but I didn't want to leave the house empty."
    "You live all alone?"
    "Yes. Sometimes it seems terribly quiet, but other times I like the privacy."
    "And now you run your father's stagecoach company."
    Megan shrugged. “It's not so hard. Over time Papa and Caleb taught me all about the business, and I gradually took over. It wasn't as if I was forced into it suddenly after Papa's death. I already ran the Express pretty much on my own."
    "People don't shy away from a female stage driver?” Lucas asked, one side of his mouth lifting.
    "I don't usually drive. I know how, and I could do it every day if I wished,” she defended herself, “but I hire men. The passengers seem to like that better.” She gave an unladylike snort. “They don't believe a woman driver could get them to their destination in one piece. I ought to tell them a few stories about Hector. Then they'd think twice about putting their lives in his hands."
    "So why were you driving the day we stopped the stage?"
    "Robbed it, you mean."
    Lucas shrugged. “Robbed it."
    "Hector wouldn't take the run with the railroad payload aboard. You and your outlaw friends have him afraid to do his job."
    "So you decided to drive the stage yourself."
    "What else could I do? The damn railroad is putting me out of business as it is, stretching their lines all across the country. A canceled run would only cause passengers to find an alternate mode of transportation. I can't afford that. The railroad wants to run tracks right through Leavenworth from Kansas City to Atchison, to Topeka—everywhere. If they do that, there won't be much use for little ol ’ me and my out-of-date stage line."
    "You must hate that."
    "I won't let it happen."
    "And just how do you intend to stop it?"
    Megan leaned forward to touch the crisping meat, then stuck her finger in her mouth as much to taste the rabbit as to cool her heated skin. “I'll do whatever it takes."
    "Including stealing railroad payrolls?"
    She frowned. “What?"
    "You said you'd do whatever it takes to save your business, to keep the railroad from making the Adams Express obsolete. Does that include masterminding robberies to steal the railroad payrolls?"
    "The smoke from this fire must be fogging your brain. That's the most outrageous thing I've ever heard."
    "That's why you've been able to pull it off so flawlessly. Who would ever suspect you of sabotaging your own coaches?"
    "Nobody. Because it's a stupid and ridiculous idea. How did you ever come up with it?"
    "I didn't. The railroad figured it out. They sent me to stop you."

Chapter Four

    Megan stared at Lucas, her mouth falling open. “Have you always been this creative? I'll bet as a boy you told your mother one tall tale after another."
    "I'm not making this up."
    "You're with the railroad? You? I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, Lucas, but you can't work for the railroad and steal from them at the same time. It's just not done. Employers