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the kitchen, where the aroma of cured ham greeted them.
    Bitsy popped a sheet of biscuits into the oven. Lu came in through the side door carrying a jar of milk she’d fetched from the cool cave across the street where they stored perishables.
    “Ah, it’s good to be home,” Mrs. Nation said, sitting at the table. She patted the chair next to her. “Sit here, Regina, and tell me all about that Mr. Dane.”
    “Mr. Dane?” Regina repeated, confused. “I don’t know anything about him.”
    “I heard that you went to see him this morning.”
    “Well, yes, on your behalf.”
    “Bitsy, is it true that he winked at you on Spring Street?” Mrs. Nation asked, and Bitsy giggled.
    “He sure did. I swear he’s a devil. What did you think about him, Regina?”
    “I think he needs his face slapped,” Regina said, wishing her heart wouldn’t kick every time someone said his name.
    “I think he needs a young lady to make a lasting impression on him,” Mrs. Nation said. “That’s how men like him are brought into line.”
    “A lady wouldn’t have anything to do with him,” Regina said.
    “I got a glimpse of him when I arrived in town and he certainly cuts a dashing figure,” Lu said as she poured her daughter a glass of milk. “Both he and his cousin are fine-looking men.”
    “You can wrap a cow pattie in pretty paper, butit’s still a cow pattie,” Jebidiah observed, making them all laugh.
    “Oh, he’s not that bad,” Bitsy said. “There’s gold to be mined there for anyone who’s interested.” Then she looked directly at Regina and winked!
    Flustered, Regina turned away, but she recalled being close to him in his office and how her breath had caught in her throat and her stomach muscles had contracted with yearning. He’d called her potent, but he was the one who could intoxicate. Better keep away from him, she told herself. One kiss from him could foster a craving in her for more. Like whiskey, Theodore Dane was trouble she could live without.

Chapter 3
     
    M ason’s General Store was busy on Saturday afternoon. Regina moved to the back where bolts of material reached the ceiling. Mr. Mason filled orders at the front, grabbing things off the shelves as two women read from their shopping lists.
    Fingering a length of cream-colored cotton, Regina mentally pictured a simple, ruffle-free dress. Mrs. Nation frowned on bright colors, wearing only white or black. Regina tried to curb her desire for bright jewel tones, but it seemed an impossible task. Her hand moved, as if on its own accord, from the cream material to a bolt of emerald-green, water-spotted silk. She laid the book she’d purchased earlier on a bolt of navy blue linen and gathered the green silk in both hands to lift it to her cheek. Closing her eyes, she rubbed the fabric against her skin and remembered another silk dress of ruby red that had hugged her body. Its flamboyant bustle, ruffled train, and low-cut bodice had drawn every man’s eye. When she had walked on stage in that dress, drinks had been forgotten, poker and dart games had ceased, and a breathless silence had overtaken the Gold Star Saloon in rowdy Dodge City, Kansas.
    Those nights came back to her and she could almostsmell the heady beer and pungent cigars. The tinkle of the piano floated through her mind. Snatches of songs came back to her—songs she had sung as the star attraction of the Gold Star. Dodge City’s Wild Irish Rose.
    Suddenly she recalled the sheriff’s invitation to the Spring Cotillion, which had startled her. She snuggled her nose into the silk as if it were a bouquet. There had been a time when such invitations were as common in her life as bees in a flower garden. Back then she had expected invitations, so it tickled her that she’d been rendered tongue-tied when Sheriff Stu had asked to escort her to the cotillion. She had been right to refuse. With Mrs. Nation gone on her speaking tour, Regina would have more than her share of chores and