Rachel set the last serving bowl, filled to the brim with piping hot stew, on the table alongside a platter of fresh biscuits dripping with butter. "Well, y'all dig in," she started, when the sound of a rig pulling up outside the bunkhouse cut her off.

"Where's my boys, and Mr. 'spoon?" a voice shouted from outside.

"Emma!" shrieked Lou, forgetting her disguise for a moment despite Teaspoon's presence right beside her. The girl got up and put her legs over the side of the bench, rushing to the door and flinging it open. Teaspoon and the rest of the riders, except one, followed her mad dash from the table out to greet the visitor.

Shoveling Rachel's stew into his mouth, Cody looked up at Rachel's irritated face. Speaking through the food, he mumbled, "Well, I stayed, Rachel."

"Thanks," Rachel muttered back. "Let's go meet this Emma of y'all's."

Rachel stood in the doorway, her arm stretched up to lean against the doorframe, at the prim little woman being swamped by the riders and Teaspoon. The little woman whose house she lived in now, and to whom her every move was compared, it seemed. Emma didn't fold the long-johns like that . .. Emma's piecrust was flakier . . . Emma, Emma, Emma . . .

Emma looked up at the bunkhouse at the stunning, shapely woman who was standing posed rather seductively in the doorway. Self-consciously, she pulled her gray shawl around herself and adjusted her bonnet. That's quite a get-up to be cookin' for a lot of boys in, she thought, before chiding herself. Teaspoon had written that Rachel was doing a fine job. Mustn't judge a book by its cover. Or lack of a cover, she chuckled to herself.

"Mrs. Dunne?" she said, moving forward and extending her hand. "I'm Emma Cain, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Mrs. Cain," Rachel said a touch formally, as Sam came around the side of the wagon with the bags. "Rachel? Rachel Jonveaux? From Baton Rouge?" he blurted as he nearly collided with her.

"Sam Cain??" Rachel said, laughing. "I don't believe it! How long has it been?" she exclaimed.

"I don't know, must be near on ten years," he said. "You don't look a day older," he said admiringly, his arms still full of Emma's bags.

"Neither do you, Sam," Rachel said, blushing. "I declare, I never made the connection when the boys and Teaspoon would talk about Sam and Emma … they never said your last name, and I had no idea you were a Marshal now."

"You two know each other?" Emma said stiffly.

Sam dragged his eyes from Rachel's face guiltily, looking at his wife. "Well, you could say that," he said evasively, his face beet red. "We were just a little more than a couple of kids at the time. I reckon you musta gotten married, then?" he asked Rachel.

"Yes, I was widowed about two years ago," Rachel said softly.

"Sorry to hear about your loss," Emma said, trying to take control of the conversation again. "It's been a long ride, Mrs. Dunne. Would you mind if we went on into my house and got settled in?"

"Of course not, Mrs. Cain," Rachel answered. "You know the way, of course."

"Sam," Emma almost barked. "Let's get our things inside."

"Boys, y'all should help Marshal Cain with all these bags," Rachel directed, and Lou, Kid and Jimmy jumped forward to help.

As the riders went into the house ahead of Sam and Emma, Emma murmured to Sam, "Don't think this subject is closed, Sam Cain. I want to know just how you two knew each other."

Sam sighed. No, you don't, Emma, he thought morosely, not looking forward to that conversation.

Coming down the stairs of what had been her home, Emma stopped in the hallway outside the kitchen at the smell of breakfast cooking, knowing that meant that Rachel was already up.

She had dragged the truth from Sam last night, and of course now wished she'd chosen to remain ignorant. Rachel and Sam had an affair some ten years ago, when they were the riders' age, and now here they were under the same roof. My roof, Emma thought darkly. Of course she couldn't blame Sam or Rachel for that, it had been years ago. All three of them had been married to other people in the meantime, for heaven's sake. But still, she wasn't looking forward to sharing a breakfast table with the woman who had been her husband's 'first'.

Pushing the door open, Emma groaned inwardly. Rachel was wearing her nightgown and robe, just as Emma was, but somehow Rachel in a nightgown and robe was inherently indecent. Emma trudged in, mumbling, "Morning, Mrs. Dunne."

"Morning, Mrs. Cain," Rachel responded. "Care for a cup of coffee? Breakfast will be ready and I'll be dressed to bring it over to the bunkhouse in about ten minutes. There's plenty for you and your husband," Rachel said carefully. She'd heard some muffled arguing last night from her room and gathered that Mrs. Cain wasn't too thrilled that she and Sam had a past together. There wasn't anything she could do about that, but she didn't intend to give Emma any reason to be upset with her from here out.

"Thank you, coffee would be nice," Emma said, pouring herself a cup. "Can I help you with anything?" she asked, glancing over the food.

"No, I've got it all under control, and you're a guest," Rachel said absently, turning the bacon.

A guest, Emma thought furiously. This is just my house, is all. But she gritted her teeth. "Thank you, I guess I'll go on up and get dressed myself for breakfast."

As she headed up the stairs, she met Sam on the way down. "Oh no you don't, Sam Cain. You go right on back up, and wait for me to get dressed before you go anywhere," Emma hissed. She had no intention of letting Sam go into the kitchen with Rachel in her nightgown, unsupervised.

"But I have to go to the outhouse," Sam protested.

"You can hold it," Emma ordered.

As Sam followed her back up, mystified, Emma felt ridiculous. Sam and I are newlyweds, there's no reason he couldn't be alone with Rachel for a few minutes. But … better safe than sorry.

After a silent, awkward breakfast, the riders set about their chores and runs, and Sam looked desperately at Teaspoon. Rising to the occasion, Teaspoon stretched and pulled on his suspenders, remarking casually, "Well, Sam, I got a passel of new fishin' lures in from Tompkins just t'other day. How'd you like to break 'em in with me? Barnett can handle things around here for a morning, I reckon."

"Sounds great," Sam said, ignoring the looks Emma was shooting at him, and leaping up. "Let's go," he added, rushing out the door with Teaspoon ambling behind him.

"You ladies have fun now," Teaspoon said, twinkling mischievously at the two discomfited women as he tipped his hat and left.

In the silence that fell after the men left, Rachel cleared her throat. "Well, I'd better get to these dishes."

Emma nodded, looking down and tapping the table. As Rachel piled the dishes onto a tray, Emma finally looked back up.

"Rachel, I'm sorry I've acted so . . . well, like a jealous wife. It's hard enough to see you take my place with the riders and Mr. 'spoon. I wasn't prepared to find out there'd been something between you and Sam as well."

"I could never take your place, Emma," Rachel said kindly, setting the plates down and sitting next to her. "They always will have a special place in their hearts just for you."

"Thank you," Emma said. "It looks like you're earning your own special place there, and I want to thank you for taking such good care of my - - our - - boys."

"Thank you for saying that, Emma, and I'm sorry if, well, anything has made you uncomfortable about - - about - -"

"Less said about that, the better," Emma said, picking up the dishes and stacking them in the basin, with a broad smile. "Friends?"

"Friends," Rachel nodded, picking up the basin and smiling back.

THE END . . .

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