The streets of Hope Valley were growing dim. Dusk was settling in and Lucas, readying the saloon for the busy hours, stepped out onto the boardwalk. He was taking in the town; a lot had changed in a day. Just hours ago he had felt confident that he was beginning to turn Elizabeth's heart in his direction, however, the expression on her face as she ran to Nathan told Lucas otherwise.

Hope Valley had become home for Lucas. When he bought the saloon and started his business he wasn't expecting to fall in love. Not with the town; not with anyone. He wasn't in Hope Valley long before he discovered that secrets don't keep well here; he had always kept his cards close to his chest, but that game didn't last long, and now Lucas felt comfort in being known. Known as he had never been in his adult life.

He felt comfort in Elizabeth's company as well, and he genuinely cared for her. He had so much to offer her, the best of her warring worlds: a life in Hope Valley with flair, city comforts, and elements of society life.

He knew he would have to make his case. He knew now she wouldn't fall into his arms as he had hoped. Lucas shook his head and walked inside to start the evening.

Time dragged on, and even poker couldn't sidetrack Lucas's thoughts. "Deal me out," he said decidedly. Rising from his chair and tugging on the bottom of his waistcoat to smooth it out, he scanned the room, took his drink in hand and told his staff he would be in his apartment if an emergency should arise.

Lucas crossed the saloon, walked through the back hallway and into his private apartment. He closed the door and felt slightly agitated at being alone with his thoughts. He was generally successful in amusing himself out of heart-work, but today had put him in such a state of discontent he resigned to sit by the fire and examine himself.

The room was humble in size, and Lucas had few but fine furnishings. A large bookcase with his personal library stood against the wall adjacent to the window, a small side table beside the door held a potted geranium, and a fireplace in the corner with a leather wingback chair beside it. Lucas strode to his chair, sat, and fixed his gaze on the fire before him.

Nathan stepped onto the street from Bill's office and headed toward the row houses. He and Bill had just finished talking through the day's events.

Once they had addressed all the official business, Bill had asked Nathan directly: "How are you feeling after all this?" Nathan had looked at the floor, and then at Bill. "Overwhelmed. Shocked."

"Is that all?"

"I suppose I'm grateful I wasn't in the line of fire."

"You don't blame yourself for Jamieson's death?"

Nathan had been bewildered at this suggestion. "No," he'd replied confidently. "Jamieson made a choice. I'm sorry it ended the way it did, but I can't answer for someone else's reaction. I did my job."

Bill had expected Nathan to blame himself for Jamieson's death and was surprised to find that he didn't pick up that burden - Bill knew how easy it was to do.

"Well I agree, you're not at fault Nathan. You had the situation under control and Jenny was about to relent. Jamieson made a grave mistake, and that mistake cost him his life." Nathan smiled grimly and nodded.

Out on the street, Bill's words echoed in Nathan's head. He had replayed the scene so many times, and it was always the same: he was sorry to lose a fellow mountie, but he wouldn't betray himself.

The night air had a bitterness to it. Nathan walked quickly, wanting to get home to Allie who was apt to be reading, blithely unconcerned with time or hunger. She would have questions to be sure, and would have heard rumours. Once she was in bed and he had straightened the story he could let his thoughts drift. He walked up the steps, and before turning the handle closed his eyes, took a deep breath and released work from his shoulders: his duty was to Allie now.

Inside the rowhouse Nathan found Allie captivated by her book - lying in a prone position on the rug, the fire simmering before her.

"Hi Allie," Nathan said, closing the door behind him. Allie looked up from her book.

"Hi Uncle Nathan!" She marked her page, closed the book and stood up.

"That looks like a different book than you were reading yesterday" Nathan knew he was making small talk, but he wanted to gauge how Allie was doing.

"Yah, I finished that book. I'm reading Emma by Jane Austen now."

"Are you enjoying it?"

"Well, Emma's kind of annoying, and everyone keeps assuming how other people are feeling, and making choices for each other. Mrs. Thornton always tells us to talk to people and not assume what they're thinking. But I like Mr. Knightley - he gets kinda' angry with Emma, but it's mostly because he loves her so much."

Nathan chuckled inwardly at Allie's synopsis. He was an avid reader and had read most of Jane Austen. "George Knightley is one of my favourite characters" he said, knowing Allie would be surprised he had read the book before. Allie was surprised, but also knew that her uncle loved to read - it was because of him that she was so voracious.

Both Nathan and Allie were starving, and so as they prepared dinner, they talked over what had happened on the road and in town. Allie was appeased with few details, and felt relieved that her uncle was home safe. She had heard another rumour involving Mrs. Thornton, and was keen to know whether it was true.

"Anything else you want to tell me Uncle Nathan?" she asked judiciously. He looked at her with a smile.

"No," he said tenderly. "Now, let's eat."