It was nearly midnight when the train pulled into the station, smoking and steaming, puffing to a halt. Kristen helped Sean with his jacket and knit cap, before picking up their satchels and stepping down from the smoldering beast.

They looked around at the city's sights in awe and wonder. Even at this late hour, the streets were busy with people passing and horses clomping along the dirt roads. The sound of music and loud male laughter escaped from the large building across the street. The sign above the entrance brought a blush to Kristen's delicate cheeks. "Miss Millie's House of Pleasure", it read and from the looks of those men walking out the doors, it was fair to judge they had been very well, 'pleasured' indeed.

The first order of business, she thought to herself, was to get Sean out of the cool evening air and to see if there was anywhere to get a bite to eat. She glanced around the well-used street and noticed the small hotel down the road. Its lights flickered brilliantly through the darkness, illuminating the wooden walkway in front of the open doors.

Kristen sighed deeply, feeling the fatigue and stiffness from the long journey. It would do, she told herself, at least for a few nights. As for the food she knew they both wanted, it might prove simpler just to wait until morning. She still had several strips of dried beef she'd bought in Iowa three nights ago, and then there were always the gumdrops she had hidden for a surprise for Sean. It should get them through the night.

She sat the satchels down on the wooden platform and pulled the scarf over her head. She was thankful now she had exchanged her currency for American money once they left the boat from England to New York. There shouldn't be a problem in paying for their room and their expenses at least.

With her scarf securely knotted beneath her chin and her long golden hair pulled tightly beneath, she was ready to face her new life. Tomorrow, she would have to buy more suitable attire and see that Sean's knickers were replaced with the long-legged britches she had seen the boys on the train wearing. She would also have to look for some form of employment suitable to bring in the money needed until Sean was old enough to return to Ireland. But as for tonight, a bath and a warm bed was the main concern on Kristen's tired mind.

Sean hugged close to his sister's side as they hurried across the muddy road toward the waiting hotel. Once inside, the two came to a sudden and panicked halt. The hotel lobby was of moderate size, with large sofas lining the walls. Several tables were strung around the room, some with half-empty drinks on them, others with well-worn magazines, but what caught their immediate attention were the people.

There were over a dozen cowboys and what Kristen could only assume to be 'hired' girls. She'd heard the maids back home referring to women like this, but until now she'd never actually seen any. Kristen's breath caught in her throat; had she made a mistake? Had she gone into Miss Millie's instead of the hotel? Sean's fearful frame hid further behind his sister, buckling her knees slightly and edging her to move forward. With a great deal of self-control and Irish determination, she made her way to the front desk and leaned over the counter, speaking in a soft Irish drawl.

"Ah’ll be wantin' a room, please," she said.

The man behind the desk looked down at her and the small boy hiding conspicuously behind her. His silver hair fell across his dirty face and he smelled strongly of cheap whiskey and even cheaper women.

"Is this fer you and yer boy, or ya got more with ya?" he drawled, his tone thick with insinuation.

Kristen drew herself up to her full height of five foot seven, stuck out her chin, and tried as hard as possible to control her dignity.

"Jist de two av us. We wud also loike a bath an' somethin' ter eat as well."

The man hooted with laughter causing several heads to turn in their direction and stare.

"Next, you'll be wantin' me to bring ya up yer slippers like a damned dog," he growled.

Kristen felt the heat of her embarrassment moving up her neck.

If this was the hotel's proprietor, he lacked severely in good manners.

"Jist de room an' bath. Ah’ll see ter me own food."

"Sign here yer Royal Highness," the man snorted, reaching under the counter and pulling out the whiskey bottle he'd been nursing all evening.

He motioned it to Kristen with a look she related with one of the Baron’s and shook her head. Why do men always think women wanted to drink with them, if the offer was made, she thought with disgust. She signed her name and paid the man his two dollars for the week, then asked him quietly,

"Is it alwus dis...busy?" she stammered softly, seeking the right words to ask.

"Not usually, but we got a new supply of whores and the town's celebratin'. All 'cept them Christians. They're all over at the church, prayin' fer our souls."

Kristen's blush deepened with the man's words, the heat of her embarrassment forced her to hurry up the stairs, away from the crowd and the looks she had been receiving; leaving behind the smell of smoke, liquor, and cheap women. She hurried into the room and quickly shut the door, locking it and pushing a chair up under the knob, just as she had done every night back home.

"Oi don't nu aboyt yer, Sean, me love, but Oi’m knackered an’ cud use a gran’ night’s sleep," she said, forcing her tone to respond with calmness.

Sean nodded silently, softly smiling at his sister. Kristen knew he was frightened. He rarely left the castle back home, as did she, but to be around so many new people and so much noise, frightened him further into his world of quiet solitude. Kristen sighed as she rummaged through her belongings, coming up with the small bag of gumdrops she'd been saving. She smiled happily at her brother and sat with him on the edge of the small, well-worn bed.

"Dis is ter celebrate da start ‘av our new lives," she said, handing two pieces of the candy to the boy.

He smiled happily at his sister and accepted the offering with a hug. Kristen's eyes filled with unshed tears. It was amazing to her, how such a small thing as candy could bring so much happiness to one child. She sniffed the tears away and began surveying the room.

It was smaller by several degrees than even the tiniest of rooms back home. The furniture was simple and old, and well used by the looks of it, but at least it was sturdy and there was a tub in the corner sitting next to a washstand for their private use. Faded curtains hung across the windows and two horribly painted pictures hung above the bed and tub. It wasn't home, but it was safe and right now that was all Kristen cared about.

A knock on the door interrupted their celebration, causing Sean to scurry off the bed and run like a frightened rabbit to the corner of the room. Too many years of the Baron's wrath and anger had been inflicted on the boy, and now he hid at the slightest sound.

Kristen smiled reassuringly at him and went to the door. She peeked through the keyhole seeing the apron of a chambermaid. She moved the chair and turned the key, allowing the women entrance into the room.

"Yer towels, miss," the older woman grunted, brushing past Kristen as she hurried to the washstand, depositing the bundle before turning and eying Kristen's attractive features. "I'll be bringin' up the water fer yer bath, so don't be lockin' me out."

The brisk order brought the Irish back into Kristen's tired soul and she straightened tall, shoulders back, chin out. She wasn't accustomed to taking orders, even in her worst of days, and she found it extremely difficult to do so now. The older woman left the room and Kristen shut the door, making certain she locked it with as much noise as possible, knowing the woman heard the subtle denial of authority. She turned back to Sean who no longer hid in the corner and smiled, receiving a shy grin in response.

A few minutes later the tub sat full of tepid water, and a tray of boiled potatoes and cornbread sat on the table next to the bed. With the chambermaid and her complaints of slaving away for children had gone, Kristen was able to breathe a deep breath of relief. They were starting their new lives and leaving behind the pain and memories of the past. She gave instructions to the maid before she left not to disturb them in the morning, then quickly locked the door and blocked it up again.

Sean climbed back onto the bed and looked at the tray of food, his stomach growling in response to his hunger. They hadn't been able to eat much since leaving New York and that had been over a week ago. Kristen felt the hunger burning in the pit of her stomach as well but chose to ignore it. She could survive on the beef strips if necessary. What mattered now was her brother's health. He had to grow strong if he was to defeat the Baron and reclaim what had been stolen from him.

"Are ye hungry?" she asked him, receiving the usually shy, quiet smile.

Sean hadn't spoken a word since the death of their mother seven years ago, and although he had barely been two at the time, Kristen was anxious to hear his young voice again. She went to him, kneeling in front of him, and placed her hands over his.

"Sean, me love," she said softly, speaking to him as their mother once had. "Yer ‘av ter try an’ talk nigh. Dis is a new lan’, wi’ a new set av rules. People may tink you’re ignorin' 'dem if yer don't spake. Yer don't want ter be causin' trouble nigh, do yer?"

She knew the boy's fears, had felt them herself for many long years, but she somehow had to convince him to speak. Instead, Sean lowered his violet eyes and sniffed back a tear. It wasn't time, she told herself. He wasn't secure in the knowledge that the Baron was thousands of miles away, and they were safely hidden from his rebuttal. Kristen smiled lovingly at him, raising his chin with her fingers.

"Ye'd best be eatin', or yer food ‘ill git cowl," she told him, kissing him gently on the cheek.

Sean smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly before reaching for the tray of food. Kristen watched as he devoured the meal with vigor, the feeling of guilt eating a hole in her stomach as much as fatigue and hunger was.

So many nights she had thought if she just gave into the Baron perhaps Sean would be safe, but she knew that would never have happened. The Baron resented Sean and if it hadn't been for Uncle Charles, he would have sent her brother off long ago. At least with Sean around, she had the incentive to hold back and plot their escape.

Sean tired very easily and after finishing nearly the entire tray of potatoes and bread, he yawned and curled up in a ball on the bed. Kristen knew he should take a bath, but she didn't have the heart to force him. She helped him strip out of his clothes, grimacing at the signs of healing bruises and scars on his back and arms, then hurried him into his nightshirt.

She took a stained towel from the pile the maid had brought up, and wet it with the water in the bath, then washed his hands, neck, and face before kissing him softly. She pulled the covers back on the small bed and curled her lip at the grey dingy color, then tucked her little brother between the sheets and covered him with the thick patchwork quilt.

Kristen sat in the small chair next to the dresser and watched in silence until her brother fell asleep. He was the reason they were here; she had to keep telling herself that. He was the reason why she had fought so hard to survive. He was all she had left, and no matter how difficult it proved to be, she would somehow keep them alive.

She cleaned up the plate of food and finished the few bites of potatoes and half of the small loaf of bread that remained, then set it on the chair blocking the door. The sight of the tub caught Kristen's eye and she silently walked over to it.

The water was cool and since she had silenced her hunger, she hurried and slipped out of her dress, trying to keep the rustle of her clothes quiet. She stepped into the water and gasped, awkwardly aware of its cool temperature. She hurried through her bath, lathering and washing her long blonde hair with vigor, then quickly stepped out and dried off.

It would take at least an hour for her hair to dry, but she had the time. There was no fear of having her evening interrupted with drunken slurs of vulgarity. In the meantime, she would be able to examine her current options. She pulled on her warmest nightgown, took out her brush, sat on the window sill, and looked out at the city.

Things were quieting down, but the noise from the local brothel still echoed through the streets. She could see the steeple of the church behind the general store and there were lights on at the livery. Not at all what she expected when she envisioned her new life, but it was better than nothing.

As she sat brushing the golden locks of hair, a warm breeze blew through the window aiding in drying the dampness lingering between the waist length stands. A woman's lilting laughter floated among the gentle wind, filtering up from the street below. Opening the window wider and leaning over the sill's edge. Kristen looked down the small overhang and saw a dark-haired woman in bright green, laughing softly with the man beside her.

They didn't know she was watching, and she felt like an ogre for doing so, but it had been such a long time since she saw a man and woman in love that the sight was intoxicating; trapping her as a silent witness. Kristen couldn't deny the urge to see them a little closer, to see the love shining in their eyes, the longing for each other traced on their young features.

The woman was very beautiful in the light shining from the hotel's main lobby and the man...she couldn't quite see him, although she could tell he had dark hair, was very tall; perhaps as tall as Uncle Charles, with wide shoulders.

She tried to lean a little further out the window, but her damp hair fell off her shoulder and into her face, blocking her line of vision. She moved her hair back and repositioned herself on the window sill before glancing back down at the couple. Her eyes focused on the man, seeing his handsome features fully. His eyes stared up at her like brown pools of heat, offering her an amusing twinkle.

He was beautiful; the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Kristen realized with a stunned shock he was staring right at her; looking up at her as she sat watching him, and she gasped with embarrassment. She quickly pulled herself back into the room and closed the window, but not before she heard the woman ask, "What are you looking at, Shay darling?"

A soft masculine chuckle echoed up the distance to her window and she heard him respond softly, "I thought I saw an angel."

Kristen closed her window and hurried to the bed. She blew out the lamp and pulled the covers over her head, hiding like a frightened child beneath the cloth barrier. How humiliating, she scolded herself. She just couldn't believe she had done something as disrespectful and utterly unforgivable as spying on that couple. What in the world made her act so recklessly? She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the man's image embedded in her mind.

Fatigue and exhaustion finally overcame her, and she drifted off into a quiet slumber, hearing the deep masculine voice seductively repeating, I thought I saw an Angel.

He heard her soft accent even before he saw the golden splendor of her beauty. Shay turned the corner of the general store, stepping into the old building and out of the morning sun. It was unseasonably warm for so early in April, which assured farmers for miles around there was a storm heading in, yet he barely noticed the weather. The small store was empty except for Ol' Colt, the old one-armed man who owned it.

The young girl stood boldly, confronting the man's stubbornness, her blonde hair braided in a thick knot at the nape of her neck, her slender frame silhouetted by the tight gown of pale blue. From the back, she looked all of sixteen with slender hips and a tiny waist. Shay leaned against the tobacco counter transfixed by her beauty until a slight movement caught his eye.

Hidden well behind the girl, nearly transparent in his matching blue knickers and cotton shirt, stood a small boy. Shay studied the child curiously; this girl wasn't old enough to have a child, at least not one as old as this frightened mouse appeared to be. Who was he then; a brother? Perhaps a stepchild?

One thing Shay knew for certain, this girl was his 'angel' from last night. The same one he had dreamt of all through the long, dark hours. An overwhelming desire urged him to go to her, turn her around and prove to himself no living creature could be as beautiful as he had imagined her to be. Practicality forced him to keep his distance, shifting his stance impatiently, his arms folded tightly across his broad chest.

As Shay stood silently watching the woman and the sights before him, his dream clouded mind began to comprehend the conversation between his little 'angel' and Ol' Colt. His attention sharpened by several degrees as he listened to the soft lilting of her Irish brogue, and watched the determined stance of her tiny frame, as she stood motionless in front of the rickety old counter.

"But Oi assure yer sir," she said as her back stiffened with determination, her chin lifted high with pride. "Oi’m capable av doin’ de work. Oi’m stronger than Oi luk."

"I said no, Missy, now that's that." Colt's voice sounded through the silent building like an old bear's growl. Irritation etched heavily in his rough tone as he thumped his right hand, the only one he still had, on the splintered top of the wooden counter.

The aging man was known for his rough exterior and mean disposition, both of which had most of the local children scurrying home to their mothers. Folks had named him after the revolver he took off the dead Mexican years before, the same one who had taken his arm. He kept the old thing tucked in the belt of his pants as a vivid reminder that even without his left arm, he was capable and ready for any trouble that came his way. Fortunately, only a few knew he kept it empty, just in case it went off without warning. An arm he was willing to live without, but the more important parts that were resting against the barrel of the gun held more sentiment for him.

"I ain't got no use fer a woman helpin' out in my store,” Colt continued. “Now get on outta here ‘less you're buyin' somethin'."

Kristen looked deflated, her shoulders slumped slightly, and her chin fell toward her chest. She took Sean's hand and turned to leave when she caught sight of the man. Her violet eyes locked with dark brown eyes, forcing her to a dead stop. Sean shifted, hiding as far behind her as physically possible.

"Ma'am," Shay said, tipping his old brown hat slightly by the rim.

He felt as though his tongue had dried up like an old piece of leather and blown away on the morning breeze. It was nearly impossible to speak. This creature, this Angel he had dreamt of, was real. She was more beautiful than he had imagined and slightly older than he first predicted.

Her dress hugged her slender waist like a glove, her well-rounded breasts bulged beneath the lace-edged bodice, forcing a sudden rush of heat to pulsate through Shay's libido. How could she be this breathtaking? Where did she come from and why didn't she say something to break this spell?

Kristen's feet felt frozen, her will to move deserted her. The man she had seen from her hotel window was right in front of her. He was taller than she had presumed from her escapade of spying the night before, perhaps even taller than her Uncle Charles, approximately the same age, and more magnificent than the dark cover of the night had allowed her to imagine. His brown hair fell softly across his brow and neatly covered the top of his shoulders. His matching eyes of chestnut brown twinkled like moonbeams on a pond of crystal waters and that smile...Saints be praised! Were there ever pearls as white and priceless as these?

He was like a painting of a Greek god come to life, the product of a naive young girl's imagination. His broad shoulders, his trim hips, and long legs were like those of a rare and ancient sculpture, molded from fine marble by skilled hands like none had ever owned. Could God really have made anything this magnificent, or was this some bizarre trick created by a mind deprived too long of real visions?

"Can I help ya, Shay?" Ol' Colt drawled, his deep tone interrupting the magic of the moment.

Shay looked past the woman and nodded. He had come in here for something, but what had it been? Seeing this woman made him forget everything except her splendid beauty.

"I need some tobacco," he answered in a voice rich with baritone splendor.

At least it was a good excuse, he thought. He walked past Kristen, glancing down at the boy who quickly dodged out of his path. He'd never seen a more skittish creature than this one. The boy avoided looking up at Shay, yet he seemed to predict his reactions with exquisite alertness, as he shied farther behind the blonde.

"Did I hear you say you were looking for work?" Shay asked the girl as he reached into the glass jar on the counter and removed a licorice whip.

"Aye," she answered softly, turning to leave the store and the disturbing brown eyes that seemed to melt her very soul.

"I know of a place that's always looking for good help," he said, receiving a loud snort from Colt in response. Shay turned a narrowing glare on the man, knowing exactly what line of business the older man was thinking of.

"Tank yer, Sir," Kristen responded politely, "but Oi ken make it on me own."

"Suit yourself, but if you change your mind go down to Hattie's and tell her I sent you by. She owns the dress shop down the road and always needs seamstresses."

Kristen blushed hotly, her mind forming thoughts much as Ol' Colt's had, assuming unjustly her handsome sculpture-come-to-life had been referring to the local brothel.

"Oi tank yer, Sir," she answered shyly. "Ah’ll try dat."

"Just tell Hattie that Shay sent you by. She'll take good care of you and your boy."

"Ah, but ‘e's not..." Kristen stopped, uncertain why she felt the compelling need to explain who Sean was to this person. "Tank yer again, Sir," she quickly responded, taking her brother's hand and hurrying back into the morning sun.

Her blush was evidence of her encounter and she scolded herself mentally for not having more control. She had been able to control the Baron all these years, she had been able to control the stable hands and the Baron's groomsman, so why couldn't she control the thumping of her own heart?

Hattie's dress shop was exactly where Shay had told her it would be, sitting at the end of the street with a fresh coat of whitewash and shiny clean windows. Kristen straightened her dress, smoothed her hand down the folds of blue cotton, and then turned to Sean still hiding behind her.

"Wish me luk, Sean, me love," she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful regardless of the terror ripping her insides apart. Sean smiled his shy response.

She just had to get this job, she thought. She had to find some way to earn money and start helping her brother find the road back to the living.

With Irish determination as her guiding spirit, Kristen pushed the wooden door open and stepped into Hattie's Dress Boutique. She glanced around at the modest surrounding and smiled. It was just the sort of place Kristen could feel comfortable working in.

The seats were upholstered in rich red velvet with dark stained oak accenting the arms and legs. Small tables of matching oak stood between each chair with a book of patterns and designs on each. Inside the windows were several wooden shelves and a large life-like mannequin. On the shelves were an array of ostrich feather hats, fans, and knitted wraps. A beautiful dress of dark green chiffon with black knitted trim hung on the mannequin, along with a fur stole.

Along the west wall was a long bench-like table, where bolts of brightly colored fabric had been neatly placed. In a basket sitting on the floor beneath the table was stuffed a fat spool of fine cotton thread, and a length of knitted lace still in the workings. The long wooden knitting needles peaked their tops over the edge of the basket as though looking around the room, keeping a close eye on all who entered.

There were even a few wigs scattered about the shop and windows, each styled to perfection and each in a different hue. Kristen was amazed. This place was far from what she had expected for such a small place like Butte, Montana. It looked like something she remembered from her trips to London with her mother. Nowhere in America - except perhaps New York - had shops that looked like this one.

A short, heavy-set woman hurried out from the back of the store, pushing her way through the thick curtains dividing the outer shop from the fitting room. She had at least a dozen pins stuck in her mouth, a tape measure slung around her neck and a well-chewed pencil stuck through the tight bun of brown/grey hair on top of her head. She looked tired and flustered but managed a friendly smile regardless.

"I'll be with you in a minute, Honey," she sighed around the pins, picking up a bolt of fabric from the side wall.

Hurrying back through the curtain with her bundle, she disappeared. Kristen looked at her brother with amazement echoing in her bright violet eyes.

"Saints be praised," she whispered with a smile, "but Oi believe de lady needs a wee bit av ‘elp."

Sean giggled softly, hiding his smile behind his hand. Not a true laugh, but at least it was a start.

Several minutes later another woman appeared from behind the curtain, this one much younger and very attractive. Her dark hair was styled in the latest fashion of ringlets, curling around the side of her head and fastened off with a string of tiny pearls. Kristen felt suddenly shabby in this woman's presence. She was beautifully dressed in a day gown of soft heather colored velvet. Her tiny hands were tucked snugly in white gloves, and her small ostrich feather hat, much like those from Hattie's window, sat gracefully across her slender brow.

"Well," she began glancing past Kristen as though she were an invisible part of the furnishings. "I would prefer a Paris made gown for the masquerade ball, but since there really isn't much time, I suppose I'll have to trust you. You can supply something...unique, can't you?"

"Of course, I can Caroline," Hattie assured the woman, unaffected by her insults and complaints. "It will be a one of a kind original, just like all of your other gowns."

"Well, it had better be. I refuse to be seen in public looking like one of these local harlots in this God-forsaken snake pit you call a town. My mother insists I have the best and you know the price is of no concern. There are only two months left, so I expect you to pay my gown top attention."

"I always do love," Hattie replied, escorting the woman to the door and the walk beyond.

They stood chatting a few minutes longer, as Kristen listened to the younger woman's complaints and demands. Finally, Hattie stepped back inside and shut the door, rolling her eyes skyward as the soft tinkle of the bell played against the closed barrier.

She knew Caroline Baker, knew her father had money, and she also understood exactly how touchy the young woman could be. She had been dealing with her insults, as well as those of her mother's, for nearly twenty years now, since she first arrived in Montana from her home in California.

It was a routine with those women, a never-ending supply of complaints and changes, but she always seemed to manage a little peace in the end once they collected their creations. Hattie knew this time would be no different. Her quality and the Baker women's vanity kept them coming back, regardless of where they lived.

"Now then, dear," Hattie said with a sigh, brushing a long strand of hair from her eyes. "What can I do for you?" Kristen straightened her shoulders and drew a deep breath.

"Oi wus towl yer may be in nade av sum ‘elp" she said, hoping her voice didn't reflect the hopeless feeling, suppressed deep inside.

"Well I don't know," Hattie answered eyeing the girl with scrutiny, hoping she wasn't one of those recent recruits for Miss Millie's. "Have you had any experience? As a seamstress, I mean?"

"Naw," Kristen began in honesty then quickly crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping to break the lie she was about to tell. "Dat is, not in dis country. Oi'm from Oirlan' an' Oi 'av extensive knowledge av cloth an' styles from when Oi lived dare."

Not exactly a lie, she assured herself. After all, she had been able to tailor the dresses once owned by her mother, as well as those few articles she made for Sean. She was a lady, or at least she used to be before her mother's death, so she knew fashion and fabric and the right ways of wearing them. She was thankful she had on one of only two gowns she had remade, so she at least had an example of her talents to show.

"Oi made dis meself," she hurried on, hoping to influence Hattie's opinion before she had a chance to form one.

Kristen stood in front of the woman and began showing the tiny lace of the sleeves and delicate stitches holding the cloth together.

"Well it looks fine enough," Hattie said, examining the stitches with envy. Even she couldn't sew that small, or that straight. "However…" before Hattie could finish speaking her thought, the door's bell tinkled again, and a tall dark frame quickly filled the doorway.

"Travis Sinclair," Hattie bit off, privileged to be one of the few allowed to call Shay by his given name. "What on earth are you doing in here? Don't tell me you want me to design a gown for you too?"

"Good God, don't even joke about that," he snapped, giving Hattie a hug and kissing her chubby cheek gently.

His eyes met those of soft violet and a sudden heat began to steal through his veins again.

"Then what brings you by?" Hattie asked, her round face smiling happily at the man.

"She does," he said, nodding toward Kristen.

"Oh?" Hattie had always felt very protective of this boy, since the first day his mother had worked as her apprentice.

Anita was new to the town and would bring Shay into work with her where he'd sit and color little pictures on the window sills, while he waited. Some could still be seen to this day and the stories of a small shy little boy were told repeatedly as a source of conversation among Hattie's more regular customers.

"Have you given her the job? I promised her you would."

Shay winked at his friend, offering her the earth-shattering smile that attracted the young girls.

"You sent her by? Well, child, why didn't you tell me so?" Hattie turned a happy, gleeful expression toward Kristen. "Of course, you've got the job. I could use the help you know, but I'm afraid it doesn't pay very well. Only ten dollars a week, but the job is yours if you'd like it?"

Kristen felt the color creep into her face, as she forced her eyes off the man who was quickly becoming her handsome savior. He was going to be the undoing of her, she just knew it.

"Tanks ma'am," she answered softly.

"When can you start?"

"T'day, if ye'd prefer. Dat is…" Kristen glanced down at her brother still hiding behind her.

Now that she had a job, she never really thought of what she was going to do with Sean.

"Wud yer mind if me brah’der stays wi’ me? ‘E won't git in de way an’ Oi promise, yer won't nu ‘e's even aboyt."

"Of course, he can stay," Hattie chuckled glancing to Shay and nudging his arm. "Remind you of anyone in particular?"

Shay's soft chuckle joined with his friend's as he too began remembering those happy days spent with his mother, as though they had happened just yesterday.

"Well then, that's settled. Why don't you just put your bag back here," Hattie said, showing Kristen where to tuck her handbag away. "I'll give you some hats to start off with and we'll see how you progress from there. I don't recall your name, dear?"

"Kristen O’Malley. Dis is me brah’der, Sean."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Kristen, and you too Sean," Hattie said, leaning down to shake the boy's hand. Sean skirted behind his sister a little further, diverting from the older woman's touch.

"’E's pure shy, ma'am," Kristen explained, with a soft glow to her cheeks.

Hattie frowned softly and glanced up at Shay but chose to ignore the situation for the time being.

"All little boys are from time to time, and my name is Hattie, I don't reckon to ma'am."

Kristen nodded, placed her bag behind the counter and watched as the woman disappeared behind the curtain, rambling on about a dozen or so hats that had to be made up.

"I'm Shay Sinclair, Miss O’Malley," Shay said, stepping up to greet her, wrapping her delicate little hand neatly between his large work-roughened ones. "I figured you'd need a little help persuading Hattie into giving you a job. She's a nice old lady, but a little arrogant about her dresses. She thinks she's the only one capable of dressing Montana. I hope you don't mind my butting in?"

"Naw, Sir," Kristen added with a soft blush.

The presence of this man made her feel awkward and uncomfortable, and yet somehow strangely secure and tingly all over.

"Oi appreciate yer ‘elp. Dis is me brah’der..." Kristen continued glancing down to Sean.

"I know, Sean. How are you, son?" he asked, kneeling next to the boy, addressing him at his own height.

Kristen nudged her brother's arm, forcing him to shake Shay's hand, which he did - weakly.

Shay was delighted to meet the boy, but even more to know he wasn't her son or even stepson. At any rate, it meant there was probably no husband. It seemed unlikely a husband would be involved. Most men didn't exactly want their wives working, least of all in the same town as a local whore house. They'd be too close to their husband's nocturnal activities for personal comfort. Shay smiled at the young boy, as he began to develop a plan of getting to know this beautiful blonde more intimately.

"Do you like horses, Sean?" he asked softly. Sean's eyes lit up.

He had always loved horses, but the Baron refused to allow him to venture out to the stables to see any.

"Would you like to see mine?" Sean edged cautiously from behind his sister, looking up at her with questioning eyes.

"’E's not gran’ wi’ strangers," Kristen explained.

"But I'm not a stranger, I'm Shay. Did you know I used to be a little boy once? I even went to work with my mother. It got really boring just sitting there watching her work. How about, if you come with me? I'll show you my horse and I'll even let you ride him? Would you like that Sean?"

Kristen held her breath hoping he'd say something, instead he just nodded soft and uncertain.

"Great. Tell your sister goodbye. I'll go get Midnight and be right back."

Shay stood up to his full height glancing down at the young blonde with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

"It's not much fun for a young boy to sit around and watch the hours tick by. I'll bring him back in time for supper." He offered Kristen a soft wink and left to get his horse.

Kristen felt a sudden rush of panic. She hadn't known this man more than a few minutes and already she had handed her insecure brother over to him, barely without a second thought and why? Because he was handsome and polite and made her blood hot and her heart to pound like a thunderstorm in August.

How could she be so careless? She knelt and lifted Sean's chin, so she could speak with him. He looked so frightened, but somehow a little more alive. Perhaps this day wouldn't be so bad for him, after all.

"Ye sure yer want ter go?" she asked him softly.

He nodded his head and smiled. She knew his love for horses outweighed his fear of strangers. If it were possible for her, she would buy him a dozen thoroughbreds, but the way things stood at the present, she'd be lucky to afford supper.

When Shay arrived a few minutes later, Sean was ready to go. Kristen stepped out to the wooden walk with her brother's hand tucked tightly in her own. The horse Shay had called Midnight suited his stallion brilliantly. He was a magnificent animal, pure black with a small white mark, like the sliver of a moon near his tail. He stood tall and proud and shone like onyx in the morning light.

Shay jumped down from the horse's back and lifted Sean carefully to the saddle. Kristen felt compelled to explain about her brother, but didn't exactly know how much to tell, or where to begin.

"He'll be fine, Angel," Shay said softly, lifting her chin with his finger.

"Please, don't yell at ‘imself, or leave ‘imself alone," she began, knowing she sounded like a rambling fool. "’E doesn't spake much, and ‘e's pure shy raun new people."

"Don't worry so much. I'll take good care of him. You can trust me," he whispered, smiling the woman-killer grin he was infamous for before mounting his horse behind the boy.

He gave Sean the reins and told him how to get the horse to go, then looked back down at Kristen's worried expression.

"I'll have him home by supper," he promised, gently kicking the horse in the ribs.

Kristen stood there watching, as Shay road away with her brother. A tremor of terror ripped at her insides.

Hattie had seen the entire exchange between Shay and Kristen and heard the soft 'Angel' he called her. She had never heard the man call a woman anything endearing, and instantly developed a plan to encourage whatever feelings he was building for the girl. It was time for the man to find a love and not a lover, and who better than this violet-eyed beauty?

"Don't worry, my dear," she said in a calm yet strong tone as she walked out to the walkway and slid a reassuring arm around Kristen's shoulders, hugging her gently. "Shay's a good man and very trustworthy. He'll take care of your brother. Why I'd be surprised if Sean wants to come home after spending a day at the Double Arrow ranch. Shay's always wanted children, and this is good practice for when he decides to settle down and have a family of his own."

"Is Mr. Sinclair gettin’ married?" Kristen asked suddenly, shocked at the feelings of betrayal and jealousy rippling through her veins.

What if he was planning on marrying a woman, perhaps even that beautiful woman she had seen him with the night before? Were these feelings she was having normal toward a man promised to another?

"He’s nowhere near committing himself to a woman, unfortunately," Hattie answered with a smile.

She could see the concern and emotion etched on Kristen's delicate features and knew there were deep feelings blooming to life within her.

Now, if she could only keep them growing, perhaps Shay would see them as well. With a gentle hug and a whispered word of work, the two women stepped back into the shop and closed the door. Hattie glanced out the side window at the dark figure of her friend and his horse as they disappeared. She only hoped Shay knew what he was doing and how easily this little Irish flower could be hurt if he wasn't careful.

Shay knew exactly what he was doing. By taking the frightened boy, he may just learn a little about Kristen. Regardless, having Sean with him gave him a good excuse to see her again. An excuse, he was anxious to take intimate advantage of. If only he could explain this strange pounding in his heart and the sudden rush of his libido whenever he thought of her.

Sure, Kristen was beautiful; breathtaking in fact, but was she worth all the fuss and interest? He knew nothing about her except that she was Irish and had a timid brother. For all, he knew she had a husband waiting for her somewhere, or a lover - which was even worse. Shay imagined his Angel to be as pure and untouched as any Angel God ever created. He also imagined her in ways, no respectable Angel would ever allow herself to become.

Shay knew exactly what he was doing alright. He was slowly driving himself insane.