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on a horse might do her some good. He’d suggested the ride to give her attackers time to move on, yes, but it seemed that he’d had other intentions—to talk to her about the captain and to offer to speak to him on her behalf, and without the risk of being overheard. She was sure of it.
    He intended to help her find Ambrose.
    Jess forced herself to shift thoughts again before she could tear up and embarrass herself in front of the ranchmen.
    Captain Rawlins…what kind of a man was he? He was a Federal officer at a fort that had been established, in part, to put down any Southern uprisings in the territory, and yet Bennett trusted him. Either the captain sympathized with the Confederacy or he was simply a good-hearted man.
    As they reached the valley floor and continued toward Carson City, Jess thought back over what she’d told Jake—that she didn’t believe Ambrose was dead. She didn’t believe it. She couldn’t. After all, she had asked the Lord to keep him safe. Besides, Jess thought to herself with a smile, Ambrose is too stubborn to die.
    After a time, Jess found her musings drawn again to the man riding beside her.
    Jake Bennett amazed her. For as long as she could remember, she’d not met a man interested neither in selfish gain nor in seeking some advantage from a meeting with a woman. Jake was simply doing a kindness for her, with no other motive than doing what was right.
    Jess made several attempts to engage the rancher in conversation. He wouldn’t say much about his past but was inclined to discuss his work instead. So, in a lighter vein, they talked about his cattle—the breeds he kept, their particular habits, the trouble they were…and how there was no better life than working horses and cattle.
    “Do you sell them this far south?” Jess asked. She recalled that his ranch was some distance away, in the northern Sierras.
    “Cattle? Now and then, but mostly horses around here.”
    “For the settlers, you mean.”
    “And for the Overland, the Pony Express while it ran. They need strong mountain horses. I breed a good stock of Morgans and Indian ponies; mustangs, when they’re about. They’re good horses,” he said. “I’ve never seen better.”
    Jess patted her mare, Meg, and gazed out over the valley. The sun was fully up, chasing away the shadows. “You should bring in Thoroughbreds.”
    Bennett shook his head. “Thoroughbreds are racehorses—good for short distances but lacking in long-term stamina.”
    “Not to sell,” Jess clarified, “to breed. They’re fast, so their endurance doesn’t matter.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “If you cross them with your Morgans, the Morgan will give you the endurance, while the Thoroughbred will give you pure speed. That’s what could be out there running the mail.”
    A look of amusement came over his face. “What is it you do, Miss Jessica Hale?”
    “I keep account books for my father. Why?”
    “You keep books,” he echoed in disbelief. His brown eyes shone with gold flecks. “As a point of fact, I’ve considered crossbreeding myself, but good breeding Thoroughbreds are hard to come by out here. A man would have to go back east for them, and the only time a ranching man might have free would be winter. Then there’s too much snow to cross the Rockies.”
    “Yes, I suppose that’s so,” she said.
    ***
    As they entered Carson City, Jake and the others watched for the men who had attacked her, but no one was standing in the shadows, and no one on the streets paid them any notice. More at ease, and feeling more hopeful than when they had left, Jess dismounted beside Jake a few blocks from the Hale house. The white two-story was visible on a distant corner, but Jess was far enough away that, if her mother were to glance out a window, she wouldn’t see her daughter with a group of unknown horsemen. If she did, she would fear that some tragedy had struck, a trauma Jess meant to avoid.
    “I didn’t see any of those men,” she