Lauren Dessaint Pierce walked out of the lawyer's office, feeling sick. She had just divorced a dead man. In all matters legal, she had given up the name Pierce, because her husband of fifteen years had been married to another woman at the same time. Charles Pierce, one of the leading Pinkerton agents, and private detectives in Chicago, had been living a dual life. Charles had a son. That knowledge alone led her to seek the nearest bench and sit down. It had also brought her from Chicago, where she made her life with Charles, to the west, where the son lived with his uncle and aunt, on the CW Ranch.

It compelled her to answer the uncle's request that she allow young Travis to accept the money and name, the illusion that Charles had created. He was never to know that his father had once been wed to someone else, while he'd been married to the boy's mother, who had apparently died five years ago.

No one in the young man's family had known about Lauren until she had started to settle Charles's affairs after he'd died in a train wreck last year.

Dex Winters and his wife, Vivian, had gained knowledge of it when she'd sent them a packet found in Charles' safe. It had been addressed to them, with instructions for it to be handed over upon his death. Since Charles had been a Pinkerton early in his career, it did not occur to Lauren to pry or wonder. She'd assumed it had to do with a sensitive case.

For fifteen years, since she herself was fifteen, she'd believed everything that came out of Charles' mouth.

It was early June...

Lauren had arrived in Denver the previous evening and secured a hotel room. She dressed today, in a lightweight suit of dark tan, white blouse. At the moment, she scarcely noted the townsfolk, buggies, and horses. She couldn't hear much of anything, except the echo of the last two conversations she'd had with the lawyer.

The first occurred in a Chicago hotel, where he had arrived at the behest of his clients.

"Do you have children?" He had asked.

"No."

"Did Charles leave you enough to live on?"

"It wasn't much, but now I understand why," she had said, still in shock. "I do have an amount from my parents. My father was a physician, though in the poorest neighborhoods. My mother, was a music teacher. They died four years ago."

"Mrs. Pierce," he had said, in that vaguely awkward manner. "Charles wed Ruby Winters one year before he married you. She was seventeen, and very much alive until five years ago. By law, it is your marriage that is illegal. You must understand, Charles was known in Colorado, and seen often with his wife and child."

"I see." What could she have said? In his line of work Charles had traveled all over, even to England. She had supposed like any woman wed to a man in such a profession, that it accounted for his absences.

"Mr. Winters, the boy's uncle, is a powerful man. Not in the manner these easterners would understand. He has a reputation."

"What is the rest of this young man's family like?" She had clutched her wineglass, struggling not to specify Ruby, holding back on every natural curiosity having had barely enough time to absorb the shock of the letters from Dex Winters and the lawyer. She still walked in a haze, a fog of surreal confusion.

"I've known them all my life Ma'am. Dex Winters was only twenty when he wed Vivian Clayton. She was the lone heir to the great Clayton Cattle Empire. They had started ranches all over since the Civil War. Vivian was a widow, closer to fifty by then. She hired Dex during a difficult time, when rustlers were as prevalent as Indians. There were range wars over water rights, land, protecting what they owned ruled the lives of most ranchers.

Young Dex came up in the logging camps and gold fields, cut his teeth on a gun. He'd already earned a reputation guarding claims. His widowed father was very ill and Dex had the responsibility of his sister, whom he never wanted to raise in those rough towns. Ruby was a beauty, a rare kind I've seldom seen anywhere. Dex faced the fact he had to find another life, where at least she would be protected."

Well, that answered Lauren's question about the woman. Being no beauty herself, it caused her stomach to clench. However, she nodded for the lawyer to proceed.

"He was working at, what was called then Clayton Ranch, only one month when he wed Vivian. In spite of her advanced age, she did give him two sons. But more importantly, his father passed in comfort and Ruby had every advantage."

Lauren had asked about Charles's son then.

"Travis is fourteen. He's close to his uncle. All the men treat Mrs. Vivian with respect. She's been quite ill of late and Dex, over the years, has centered most of the interest on the CW to be able to look after her. The other ranches absorbed losses because of various mishaps. Since Ruby died, Dex has his own two sons, Joshua and Jeremiah, to raise aside from Travis. Young men become grown men much faster in the west, Ma'am. I'd say Travis is one of the finest, though he's like his uncle, he doesn't back down. He can be ruthless when he has to."

"I take it Ruby and Charles lived on the ranch?"

"Yes. There are several houses scattered on the property and Ruby did the accounts after Vivian began ailing. Charles wasn't there often, you understand? But enough so that Travis bonded with his father. Most people were familiar with the Pierces' as a family."

Now, at the present time, Lauren recalled her just-finished meeting with the Winters' lawyer.

Dexter Winters had all but demanded she come to Colorado. He was busy at the ranch and could not go east. He had stated that he wished to be present when she signed the papers He was protecting Travis's future and his sister's memory and he was going to make sure Lauren gave them no problems, nor contested anything legally, because he didn't want Travis to know she had existed.

In that office, as cluttered as her father's old workplace used to be. Lauren had sat and listened while the lawyer read over what she was sign. She had allowed her eyes to be drawn to the man who stood by the window looking down at the streets.

He certainly fit the image she'd had of gunslinger/rancher. Head of the family, the man who made things happen and prevented in any way necessary, the things he didn't want to happen. She could believe he'd guarded claims, fought range wars. She could imagine that he had wed a woman almost thirty years older to meet his needs at the time. She could conceive that he'd protect his sister, his nephew, and dispense any threat with ease. That balance between arrogance and utter confidence was written all over him.

The legal component was simple; she gave up the name Pierce, agreed to basically wipe out her married life to Charles. She wouldn't claim anything above what he had left her. She'd not contest what he had left to Travis. She'd not tell the young man anything about his father's dual life. Nor, would she challenge the marriage Charles had to Ruby.

Dex Winters' copper eyes had watched her sign those papers. He had not spoken to her directly, no. He had simply nodded when introduced. Lauren gave herself credit for staying calm and relaxed. She was thirty years old and for the majority of her married life, she had handled things on her own. Since Charles's death, she'd dealt with lawyers, bankers, and with his business. But she admitted now, the breed Mr. Winters represented had not crossed her path in the past.

Charles had been a large man, barrel-chest, stately, striking, in his late forties. Charles wore suits, top hats, and had a presence that was confident in an entirely different manner. His height had given him a commanding air, yet distinctly eastern.

Dex Winters was tall also, six feet, which was four inches shorter than Charles, but his build and looks were in contrast. Dex had broad shoulders, a strong frame, saved from leanness by sinew wrapped bone that the denim shirt and trousers couldn't conceal.

He'd worn spurs, and had tossed a black hat that matched his boots onto a side table. He wore a gun strapped low on his hips. But his swarthy, tanned skin, brown-oak hair; wavy, glinting with a hint of red in it, combined with copper eyes, were completely unique to her.

He was every inch the characters found in dime novels and idealized in the east. He had an unreadable, rugged face, that wasn't handsome by eastern standards, where aquiline bones, pale skin and breeding was prized. Winter's face was made up with a rigid jaw, a nose that had been broken, broad forehead, wide cheekbones, and deep-set eyes.

His hair was longer on the nape, well below his shirt collar. He'd moved to the desk in a gait that was unhurried, relaxed, and dissimilar from the manner men of her world walked. He moved like he had all the time in the world. Coming from bustling Chicago, Lauren could forgive herself for being fascinated by such a trivial thing.

Who was she kidding, there was nothing trivial about the man. He was horribly intimidating.

Lauren sat back on the bench, endeavoring to ease the tension in her body. His image as clear in her minds-eye as if he were still standing in that room with her. She'd unwittingly breathed in his scent when he had leaned down beside her to sign some papers, leather, sun, wind, and a kind of inviting male fragrance that was somehow natural, earthy.

To a woman that breathed aftershave, hair oil and yes, sometimes dried sweat and worse, in the places she worked and visited in her daily life, it was alluring. Even to a mature, confident woman, like she imagined herself to be, Dex Winters was daunting. He had been civil, apparently a businessman, but possessed an aura, a threat, and a danger that didn't have to be verbalized.

"Ms. Dessaint."

Lauren frowned at the sound of her maiden name. It had been fifteen years since she'd used it. She glanced around, and then stood steadily, spotting Dex Winters standing a few feet away.

He ambled over toward her with a jingle of spurs, now wearing his black hat pulled low. She struggled not to scrutinize his legs moving beneath the worn denim, nor did she stare at the way his rolling gait drew attention to his gun belt and hips. She looked, and glanced away, looked again, but didn't stare.

"Mr. Winters," she murmured, when he paused close by her. Lauren was five-foot-five inches tall. The arc of the sun prevented her from having to look up at him. She glanced instead, somewhere near his shoulder.

His deep drawn tones sounded again, "I'd like you to join me at your hotel for dinner, before I head back to the ranch. There's a few things we need to talk about."

"I don't think so," Lauren made herself say. She planned on returning to her room, crying awhile. She hadn't cried yet, nor gotten angry. The shock was wearing off and she deserved an outlet. She needed one.

"I understood the lawyer perfectly, Mr. Winters. I signed your papers and thus far, my feelings or opinions have not been consulted, nor solicited by you. It's past that point, honestly. I would just as soon move on with what is left of my life."

Dex Winters felt like a sonofabitch. He'd done some hard, ruthless things in his life. He wasn't a soft man, because he'd needed to be hard and tough. From his early years he had learned to do what it took to survive and take care of his family. He normally did not talk beyond the necessary, nor did he need to. It had been many a year since he had reflected back on any of his decisions. He pondered problems, judged odds, and did what was required to solve them. In the past there had been no time for delaying. He didn't bother with regret.

He had more than he could handle in responsibility. He hadn't regretted his choices, because it proved to be the right decisions at the right time.

But for once he was faced with something exceptional. This eastern lady who had come out of nowhere, and seemed to break through the busy routine of his life. His familiar enemy, threats, worries that were always a part of ranching in the west, they were expected, predictable.

Since she had sent that damned packet he had to deal with her. He'd done it after consulting Vivian's opinion. It wasn't the same. He'd have to describe her to Vivian when he got to the ranch. Her reply to their letter had intrigued his wife.

She was curious about the woman, particularly since she cooperated so fully with their demands. Vivian didn't like easterners in particular. She was a native Texan who had lived the biggest part of her life on western ranches. She might be ailing in body, but was still sharp enough in her mind to be suspicious.

Just this morning she had made Dex promise to get an impression of the woman. She trusted Dex's superior instincts, it was the reason she had wed him.

She had been surprised at the degree of cooperation from the lady, had started feeling uneasy now that they were finally tying up loose ends, securing Travis' future and guarding Ruby's memory.

It was one thing to deal with someone in the abstract, quite another when you had to face those decisions in the flesh.

Dex gazed at the woman, having already observed her closely in the lawyer's office. She was petite, healthy-framed, with buckskin hair, but little attractiveness beyond her jade eyes. Having a sister like Ruby, having wed a physically beautiful older woman, Dex saw none of those things in the angular face, arrogant nose and straight hair gathered in a net, the bangs cut straight across her brows. She had spoken in a clear, citified tone, and done a decent job of covering her feelings. Except for her eyes. There was stark shock in them, a pain mixed with fury that he hadn't encountered before. A look he certainly wouldn't expect to see directed at him by a female.

For the first time he considered her as a person, a woman wronged by his brother-in-law, forced to erase her past because of him. He had no familiarity with his response to her at the moment. However he intended to clear his own mind and conscious before he left for the ranch.

He assured her, "It's nothing legal. I figured you might have questions of your own ... about Charlie's life here."

Lauren did squint up at him, and he moved to the side, his broad shoulders blocked out the lowering sun. She saw his eyes were darker. "I'm human, Mr. Winters. I have all sorts of questions and curious emotions. But it has been a very long, very difficult year. I have no intention of torturing myself by indulging my weaknesses. I have no desire to hear about your sister's wonderful life with Charles, nor do I want you to paint a picture of their devotion to each other."

Her eyes stung. Lauren swallowed thickly before looking away. "I might want to know, but I had no past the moment I walked out of your lawyer's office. As I had no option, but to do as I did, though it was Charles's fault not mine. I don't relish trying to explain a fifteen-year gap in my past to anyone. No more than I relish a future filled with images of Charles and your beautiful sister ... and their child."

Dex admitted uncomfortably, "My wife has questions."

"Then you must assure her that I am no threat to your nephew, nor your sister's memory and the life she and Charles had here." She stared at him. "I wish to get on with my life, Mr. Winters. I've met your terms. I've done all that I can. I am leaving in a few days."

"Going back east?"

She laughed hollowly. "No, I cannot live in Chicago and run into Charles' friends and business associates. Nor can I take up my role as his widow. I have my own lawyer who agreed to stay out of this personal business. He is seeing to the sale of our home and the remainder of our assets. He is also putting those personal items in safe keeping for Travis. According to what you mentioned in your letter after reading the packet. Most were found at Charles's offices."

"You have other family?"

"No." She was forgiven her bitter smile. "But I am quite used to taking care of myself."

Hell, Dex thought, eyeing her pale face. Widows could be independent. Women, particularly in the west, could run their own business and lives. But she wasn't a widow legally. She wasn't a western woman. He figured she hadn't had time to fill in the fifteen-year gap with enough lies to pacify curious people. If she married ... some man would surely wonder.

"He leave you enough to live on?"

"No, but my parents left me money, and the sale of our home will help. I'll not be rich, but neither will I be forced to work should I choose not to. I likely will work, because I always have. Charles was absent most ... We had no children, so I did volunteer work, to ke..." She flushed and shook her head. Oh God, she really did not want to think of the stark details just now.

Darkness approached and the rowdier crowd began filling the street. Dex insisted on walking her to the hotel. His hand on her elbow steered her back to the boardwalk.

Lauren had little choice. The man's hold wasn't light by any means.

She eyed the shopkeepers sweeping up, carrying in barrels, crates, and wiping dust off the windows. Wagons rolled by. The echo of noise from the saloons and dancehalls mingled with the sound of a train whistle. She felt like she'd stepped into a bad dream.

Dex was still reflecting mentally while they walked. He was raising his sons and nephew. The young men respected Vivian and made time for her every evening to sit by her sickbed, and fill her in on the ranch she loved so much. He was thinking about the big ranch house and warm suppers, lazy evenings on the wrap-around porch.

There was a rhythm to life on the ranch. He had grown used to it very quickly, having Ruby and his father there at first, then the boys and Vivian ... being as much at home in the house as on the range. It was a life where loyalty was unquestioned and blood and bonds need not be spoken because everyone held up their end and took care of their responsibility. A place where the land and business of cattle and horses bound them as tightly as blood.

He'd loved his father and sister, realizing at a tender age what lay on his shoulders. Vivian had taught him so much more. She had accepted him as a grown man at first sight and approached him as one. She had been honest, straight with him. Over the years they had worked out any kinks within the bounds of that respect. She'd given him an understanding of ranch life and what a home was. He, in return, had protected her family's holdings, seen them through the years of bad luck and kept her as respected and well thought of, as she'd been the day he wed her.

They were equals, in spite of her weak body that had aged her and kept her confined to the upper rooms. Understood between them, was the fact that she was dying. They had no secrets, no resentments, and no bitterness. Vivian often told him she rested easy knowing he was in control, that Joshua and Jeremiah were so like them both and would carry on the ranching traditions. Dex had held his end of the marriage and so had she.

"Thank you," Lauren's stiff voice cut through his musings. He realized they were in front of the hotel.

"I'm having dinner here anyway," he told her. "You might as well join me."

"I really don't think..."

"Look Mrs.... "He paused rather awkwardly, then explained, "I've done what I had to for my family. But I realize you are a newcomer to the west, a lady traveling alone in an unfamiliar location. It's not a good idea to announce you've arrived here unescorted, particularly after sundown."

Having encountered some troubles on the trip west, she didn't have to have those problems pointed out. She'd been approached. A few sly men had insulted her. She had also had her share of frightening encounters at the rail-stops, with supposed accidental groping and not a few lewd stares. But Lauren had been determined to close this phase of her grief for good.

"Very well." She found herself nodding just pacify him and get this last stage over with. She'd be gone on the morning train. So long as Mr. Winters did not force her to listen to stories of his sister and Charles, she'd endure it.

He took her arm and escorted her into the crowded dining room, well designed compared to most. There were nicely dressed couples, ladies in quaint hats and men in western suits, salesmen and some ranchers seated around. He chose a fairly discreet table and held her chair. A male waiter took their order.

Lauren found that the voices and clank of silverware tended to fade once they sat across from each other. Their table nearly obscured by a white column and Chinese screen. They were, in fact, quite private and secreted in an intimate space. He had removed his hat and ran his hands through his hair. When coffee reached them, she noted the contrast between the rugged hand and the pristine cloth on the table. Scolding herself for the distraction, she took several sips of her own coffee, having suffered some of the worst on the journey.

She'd lost a few pounds in the past year, but could spare it, admitting that after Charles decided it would be best they not have children because of his traveling, she'd not taken much of an interest in her figure. Nor had she enjoyed the awkward sex they had, after she'd consulted her father and obtained the necessary birth control advice. She had been plain before Charles, having once felt desired and beautiful after her honeymoon ... even that had evaporated by his long absences and short attentions in bed. She groaned mentally for letting her unusual reaction to Dex Winters remind her of that.

"Where will you go?" Dex asked finally, having been openly watching her slim hands on the china cup.

"I've no idea," she admitted, resting her hands around the cup on the table. She was getting used to his deep drawl, the way he dropped the ending of his words. It wasn't a soft voice, which would have been at odds with his face. But it was deep, quiet in a unique way. "I've often helped my father in his medical practice. I volunteered at the hospitals, done enough clerking and other work. I suppose, I will gravitate in that area."

"But not east?"

"No. Maybe I will try California." She didn't seem certain and sensed the man heard it.

"There's no reason you can't claim to be a widow. People don't have to know details."

She stared at him bluntly. "I'd rather not have to lie more than necessary."

"But, if you get married again..."

"I won't." She cut him short. "Look, Mr. Winters. My personal life is not your concern at this point. I won't mention Charles..."

"I wasn't thinking of that. More like, the fact that you'd have some explaining to do to a man who..."

"I'm not getting married again." She was however, getting angry. "I had no offers before Charles, though I was young. The men who have approached me since were mistaken in that I was a female of another sort. It's not often in my experience that I have to protect my virtue. So it is not likely I will be courted and marry again. I have been aggravated by a few men on my journey, but it is highly unlikely I will have to explain my lack of innocence to a man anytime in the future."

His jaw flexed, but he did not take his eyes off of hers.

"I'm plain, Mr. Winters." She smiled thinly, truly reaching her limit of civility. "Is that what you wished for me to admit?"

"No, I ... Hell," Where did that come from? Dex thought. "I don't know. Now that it's all over, I'm thinking you don't have any family or any place to go and what with having to drop Charles's name. I figure Charles has done you wrong. It's too late to go wondering or getting mad on my part. Ruby and Charles are dead. He was good to her around me, took care of her and Travis."

He grunted. "I'm not happy about finding out about you, but it's worked out all right. I'm a hard man when and where I have to be. But I wasn't punishing you, so much as I was protecting what's mine to look after."

"I realize that." She paused while the waiter brought their meal. Neither touched it until she finished, "but you will excuse me if I'm not thrilled about it myself. I do have my own personal feelings. At the moment, I don't have it in me to be happy for your family, or your nephew. I do not blame them. I blame Charles, whom I apparently did not know at all, but I don't particularly give a damn about what you think, feel, or want right now."

Dex waited a moment then nodded slowly. "I can understand that."

"Good." She cut into her chicken, more like sawing it. "Once this dinner is complete, we are strangers, Mr. Winters. I repeat, I have not existed as Mrs. Pierce since I stepped out of the lawyer's office."