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disguised as parlor entertainment. In either case, he’d rather be horsewhipped than attend.
    Unfortunately, Anna Finch took his silent no for a yes.
    “I look forward to renewing our acquaintance then, Mr. Beck,” she called as the buggy turned and mercifully disappeared around the corner.
    Barnaby Finch, Daniel’s neighbor, had been trying to pawn Anna off on him since she returned from her East Coast school last summer. For her part, Anna seemed a more-than-willing participant in thescheme. Obviously Finch figured he owned half of Colorado, so buying a husband for his youngest shouldn’t be an issue. He’d certainly had no trouble betrothing the other four in a similar fashion.
    But Daniel Beck could not be bought. Better men than Barnaby Finch had tried and failed.
    Daniel jerked off his collar and tossed it behind him while he waited for a team of slow moving mules to pass. The delay allowed his assistant to catch up. Rather than fall in step beside Daniel, the young man planted himself squarely in his path. In one hand he held Daniel’s muddied collar; in the other was a fistful of papers.
    Daniel gave Hiram a look that had caused many a grown man to shrink back in fear. His assistant, however, merely pressed on with his cause.
    “I would be remiss in my duties if I let you leave without calling your attention to the importance of these.” He thrust the papers toward Daniel. “Mr. Beck, I must insist.”
    “You must insist, Hiram?” Daniel tempered his urge to laugh. “Very well.”
    He folded the documents in half and stuffed them into his pocket, then pressed past a buckboard filled with mining equipment to reach the front of the livery. The rush of activity inside let Daniel know his presence had been noted and his horse was being prepared.
    “Are you finished, Hiram?”
    While his assistant nodded, a boy hurried toward Daniel with boots and riding attire.
    “Excellent,” Daniel said. “Your work here is done. I suggest you return to the office.” He turned to enter the livery, then thought better of his abrupt dismissal. “Hiram,” he called, and the young man trotted back toward him. “Please understand I appreciate your efforts.” He patted his pocket. “And rest assured I will read these today.”
    An hour later, with a bracing wind cutting across his face and the city of Denver at his back, Daniel decided he might not read anything work related today. Maybe not even tomorrow, as he had a bedroll in his saddlebag.
    Then he thought of Charlotte. So like her late mother, and so unlike the Beck family whose heritage she shared.
Thank You, Lord, for that dual blessing.
    Just this morning, the imp had yanked on his coattails as he headed for the door and asked, “Are you leaving me again, Papa? Won’t you be home tonight to play charades?”
    Daniel halted the mare beside a gurgling stream. Charlotte was a Beck in one way: what she wanted, she generally got. He smiled. And what she stated with firmness that morning was that she required her papa to tuck her into bed tonight.
    “So be it.” Daniel glanced at the sun overhead, then jumped down to water the horse. A stiff breeze whipped past and caught the papers in his pocket, sending them flying. He retrieved the ones he could, then climbed into the saddle and chased down the last. When his fingers finally closed around the fleeing envelope, his eyes took in the distinctly British stamps.
    A letter from Beck Manor.
    His heart sank. How had they found him? Moreover, why?
    He turned the letter over and stared at the handwriting as if it might hold the key. Unless he missed his guess, his father’s hand and not Edwin’s wrote this.
    Not that it mattered. He hadn’t wanted either to find him, much less send a letter as if he were still a member of the Beck clan.
    Daniel shoved the letter back into his pocket, out of sight, and dug in his heels, urging the mare toward home.
    When he arrived, Charlotte met him at the barn with a laugh morelike