Written in 20 minutes. No time for edits.

When the door to the jail opened that afternoon, Jason was immersed in a letter from a marshal in Sacremento, so he didn’t look up right away, thinking that Dillon would handle it.

“Uh, cuz?”

Jason blinked and looked up to find Dillon standing in front of him, gestured to the entry way where a pale Elizabeth was standing. “She, ah, said it was—”

Jason dropped the letter to the desk and got to his feet. “Elizabeth. What’s wrong?”

She slid a glance at the younger man who put his hands up. “I’m gonna go take a walk, see if Coleman is causing trouble again.”

Jason walked Dillon to the door, then dropped the latch behind him. He turned back to face Elizabeth. “What happened?”

“I—” She swallowed and her hands fluttered up to her face, then down again as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “Um, you were a marshal before you came here, weren’t you? I—I never asked, and no one said, but you—”

“Yes.” Jason hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder, intending to steer her towards the desk and a chair to sit in. When she didn’t protest, his worry only deepened. “I couldn’t find steady work with the railroad,” he told her, leaning on the desk. “But the marshal service in San Francisco was hiring. Are you—do you need a marshal?”

“I only—” She closed her eyes. “The court. Um, we don’t have a regular judge here. He travels, but we can—we can petition for things, and people could petition a judge for something.”

“Yes—”

“I just—do you know anything about the law? About what a judge might do?” A tear clung to her lower lash and she swiped away.

He knelt in front of her. “Elizabeth, tell me what’s happened. What’s wrong?”

“Can a man—can he pretend to have a letter that says he’s the father of a child and—take the child?” Her voice was so faint as she asked the question he could barely hear it. The blood in Jason’s veins chilled as he accepted the implications of the statement.

“Who has a letter that says that?”

“He couldn’t, couldn’t he?” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Oh, God, if he couldn’t, you would just say that—oh, God, he’s going to take my baby, and it’s not even true—” She buried her face in her hands.

“No one is taking your son, Elizabeth,” Jason told her firmly. “We—we’re talking about Cameron?”

“What?” She blinked, raised her head, then nodded. “Of course. We—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “He forged the letter. It’s not true. But that won’t matter. His forgeries always hold up.”

“Always—” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Lansing.”

Miserable, she nodded and looked away. “He could do it, couldn’t he? It doesn’t matter that we’re not married, that Cameron isn’t his child. That I never, ever let him touch me—”

“It does matter,” Jason told her. “Cameron was born while your husband was alive, and Dr. Lewis raised him, didn’t he?”

“Cameron is his son,” Elizabeth insisted. “I don’t care what anyone in this town thinks—I never ever—” She shot out of her chair. “I never broke my vows. My promises.”

“I know,” Jason said gently. She met his eyes. “I believe you. What I mean by that is that legally speaking, a child born in wedlock is legally the responsibility of the husband. Cameron Lewis could have left you and legally taken his son from you, but it doesn’t matter what a letter says. Dr. Lewis had a will, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” She sucked in a deep breath, feeling steadier. “Yes. He knew—God, he knew what Ric was. What he could do. He was afraid—so he made sure to say I have guardianship. He didn’t want Ric to forge a will saying any differently. He even went to Sacramento to have someone else witness it.”

“Good. You are Cameron’s mother, and his father made sure that you retained guardianship in the event of his death. That’s all you need. Ric Lansing can forge all the letters he want, but a judge isn’t going to disrupt that. Not when it would declare Cameron illegitimate.”

The tension bled out of her shoulders and Elizabeth sighed. “Thank you. I’m sorry—I just—I didn’t know who else to ask—”

“What other forgeries?” Jason demanded. “Why did Dr. Lewis go to all that trouble to protect you and Cameron?”

“I—” She shook her head. “It’s not important. All that matters is that he can’t take Cameron. That’s—he can take everything else, but not my son—”

“What else—” Jason swore as she started to leave. With his longer legs, he was able to reach the door before her. “If you think I’m going to let you leave without telling me what the hell Ric Lansing is up to—what he’s done to you—”

“Jason—I only—I can handle this—”

“I’m sure you can. You’ve been handling it for years, haven’t you?” Jason demanded. “And I know you’re strong. It’s not a question of can you do it—you shouldn’t have to. He’s breaking the law. That’s what I’m here for —”

“I tried to stop him once,” Elizabeth murmured. “But Sheriff Ramsay said that I should just stop playing coy and marry him.”

Jason grimaced — Burt Ramsay had been a terrible person and an even worse officer of the law. “I’m not Sheriff Ramsay.”

“No.” She sighed. “You’re not. All right. You want to know what Ric forged?” Elizabeth folded her arms. “Where do I start? With the loan documents that wiped out my grandfather’s savings, and led to his heart attack? The mortage papers that he showed my father—which is probably part of the reason he stole our letters—”

Jason swore. “Damn it—”

“The investment papers he used to swindle Peter out of his inheritance or the gambling debts he forged with Alexander? How about the loan and mortgage documents he gave the court to take my husband’s money and home away from him?”

He stared at her. “Elizabeth—”

“Or last week, when he gave me an update mortgage document saying that I was losing the Lazy W?” She raised her brows. “And that’s just the paperwork he’s used to harass me for the last eight years.”

“Eight—but I was still here—”

“He saw me the day he moved to Diamond Springs when I was just sixteen years old,” Elizabeth told him. “And apparently, he likes to collect pretty things. I’m just the first thing he’s tried to collect he can’t get.”

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