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“Try.”

“I will.”

Bass paused, his gaze moving from the chair by the window to the open book and then to Jesse’s hand on the coverlet.

“She came back after yesterday,” Bass said.

“Yes.”

“You apologize?”

“I did.”

“Properly?”

“Ask her, if you’re curious.”

Bass nodded, accepting the rebuke. “I don’t intend to interfere.”

“You’re interfering right now.”

“Habit.” His brother stood, then hesitated. “If Miss Whitcomb goes home, you’ll let her.”

Jesse disliked hearing it said aloud. “She knows she’s free to choose.”

“Good.”

“If she stays, I’ll ask to court her the way I ought to have in the first place.”

Bass looked so startled Jesse nearly laughed.

“Don’t say a word,” Jesse warned.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You had a whole speech gathering behind your teeth.”

“I’ll save it for Emily.”

Bass reached for his hat, but footsteps hurried along the hallway. Maddy appeared in the doorway, clutching a folded telegram.

“Mr. Morris sent this from the telegraph office,” she said. “Whit said to bring it straight to you, Bass.”

Bass took it. “Thank you. Would you fetch the marshal?”

Maddy nodded and went at once.

Jesse watched Bass read. His brother’s expression changed at the second line.

“What is it?”

Bass read the message aloud.

“Pike and Crowley sighted east of Grand Platte two days ago, traveling with two men. Inquiries made regarding Pickett lands and access near Flat River. Wanted for questioning in Missouri in suspected land fraud, stock theft, and violent intimidation.”

Jesse remembered Eden’s account of a stranger at her father’s home in Willow Bend. He had polished boots, smelled like peppermints, and asked questions about the mill road. Two weeks later, Josiah’s accident happened.

“What else?” Jesse asked.