Free Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1) by Cynthia Wright Page B

particular that’s bothering you? It might help to talk about it.”
    “I—no... well, I can’t say that I’m exactly happy these days, but that’s to be expected, isn’t it? Life seldom turns out as we hope, and I’m learning not to hope anymore.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
    “What had you hoped for here?” Katie asked gently.
    “I know it’s not fair to draw conclusions about my future in Columbia after only a few days... but I suppose I expected to see a bit more of Jack. Before he came to visit me, I kept pretty much to myself, partly because I just didn’t feel like seeing anyone after Ben died and partly because we lived miles away from anyone else. When Jack rode up, he brought hope and laughter back into my world. He’s so alive, isn’t he?” She gazed at Katie with searching eyes, waiting for her nod before continuing, “I see now that it was foolish of me, but I suppose I hoped that I could continue to lean on him here in Columbia. I’m sure he cares for me, and would rush to my aid if I were truly in need, but it’s clear that he has his own life to lead and expects me to stand on my own two feet.”
    “That’s hard, isn’t it?” Katie couldn’t forget that worrisome whiff of liquor.
    “Well, I have to accept that Jack is one of those lone wolves. He has a good heart, but he’ll never be committed to anyone. He needs his freedom.”
    Katie nodded, mulling this over, then put an arm around Abby. There were many things she longed to say, but she compromised with, “You must reach out to the rest of us. Jack Adams isn’t your only friend in Columbia. If you need to talk to someone, I hope you’ll come to me.”
    Abby managed a faltering smile. “I appreciate that.”
    * * *
    The night was warm, and the barest breeze caressed the white curtains at Katie’s windows. In spite of the late hour, she found that she couldn’t sleep. Sitting on the edge of her bed, clad in a long, filmy nightgown of cotton lawn, she reread her article about the Griffin. The last few paragraphs had taken courage for her to write and courage for Gideon to print:
    The Griffin’s legend grows with each new stage robbery. Some feel that his allure lies in the mystery of his identity and the flair with which he carries off his crimes. Others contend that he has found favor with the people because they do not perceive him to be a criminal at all, but rather a modern-day Robin Hood balancing the scales of justice.
    The Griffin’s motive is a cause for speculation. The most popular theory casts him as a miner who was cheated by Rush and/or Van Hosten, yet he appears to be more refined than any of the miners known to the citizens of Columbia. In these times, when it is common for revenge to be sought with ruthless violence, the Griffin is an enigma.
    Many hope privately that this outlaw-hero will never be caught. And perhaps the Griffin will stop preying upon certain stagecoaches traveling the twisting roads of the foothills. Perhaps he’ll grant Rush and Van Hosten a reprieve if they deal fairly with their own employees....
    Sighing, Katie crossed the room and set the newspaper on her bureau. Then, pensively, she opened the top drawer, taking out the fine linen handkerchief with its miniature griffin embroidered in the corner. She’d never known a man who owned anything so uniquely tasteful. The Griffin had style, but more important, he had principles that he upheld above personal gain. Katie felt a surge of anger as she thought of the man who lay slumbering on a cot in her parlor.
    She was just about to extinguish the oil lamp on her bedside table when a sound in the kitchen made her straighten up. Peeking out of her room, she saw a shadowy figure fumbling at the dresser shelves.
    “What’s going on?” she called softly, emerging into the narrow kitchen. “Is that you, Papa?”
    “No, it’s me.”
    Outside, a cloud passed, uncovering the moon and sending a silvery ray of light through the window to