Riding warily, his keen gaze swept the country looking for any sign of danger. Any indication he was riding into a trap. Sweat trickled down his back, the merciless sun beating on his uncovered head. Without the breeze the air was heavy, the scent of red clay and powdery dust thick.

Reaching the base of three looming pillars of stone, Rueben stepped from the saddle, looking around. Nothing else in this wide landscape could serve as shelter, so she had to be here. Moving into the shade the trio cast, he looked around, searching the ground for tracks, anything to tell him where to go next.

A single footprint in the dust told him she'd been there. The outline was old, the edges crumbled, and the print itself was filled with bits of debris and tiny bug tracks. Silently making his way deeper into the shadows, Rueben felt his scalp tingle. It felt... off. There should be indications of movement. Of life.

Deep inside the triangle formed by the pillars, he found a natural stairway and took each step carefully. Broken planks of sunlight filtered through the cracks in the rock, providing just enough light to guide his way. He reached a flat platform and froze, his attention fixing to the bed resting in the center.

"Harmony," rushing to her, he grabbed her hand, startled by the cold clammy feel of her skin. "I've come back... can you hear me? Harmony,"

Sliding a hand beneath her head, he gently lifted it.

"Harmony,"

"She sleep," the rough voice spun him, finding Pangalia sitting quietly in the shadows, legs folded comfortably beneath him. "Many days now."

"Why? What's the matter with her?"

"Sickness I tink. Sickness of mind. Sickness of hat. Too much sadness."

"I'm here," turning back to his wife, Rueben cupped her jaw. "I'm here, woman. You're not alone anymore."

"She neva alone. I hea."

"She needs a doctor!"

"Rueben Lane," Pangalia's voice stopped him from picking her up. "She sleep. To wake, not wake, she choose. You wait."

"Wait? For what! For her to die? No! No, I'm getting her to a doctor."

"Noting anyone can do. It up to ha."

Turning back to her Rueben knelt, leaning down to press his lips to her brow. She did not stir. The faint touch of her breath on his cheek was warm. Perhaps a long journey to get help would do more harm than good. Gingerly, he placed a large hand on her belly. It was flatter than he expected.

"Where is my child?" Staring at Harmony, he didn't look up. "What happened to it?"

"Wid ha people. Safe."

"It's a girl?"

"I seenit," the old man grinned, his wrinkles folding into deep creases. "She ya daughta, Rueben Lane."

"How long ago?"

"Afta haf moon. Safe, Rueben Lane. Healty, yeah?"

Bending, Rueben curled into a ball at Harmony's side, clutching her hand tightly. Guilt surged inside him like rolling waves. If he'd only been here!

"Wake up, woman. I need you. I've come back, and I need you. So does our daughter. It's time to wake up."

Pangalia eased back into the shadows, watching, waiting as Rueben sat at his wife's side. Sunlight began to fade, red then grey. At last, Harmony stirred, her eyes blinking open as she looked around. Rueben sat up, cupping her face in his hands, staring into a liquid pool of lavender.

"I've missed you," his whisper was rough with emotion, his thumb stroking over her bottom lip. Blinked a few times, her expression softened as she began to smile. When her eyes abruptly rolled back, he lurched forward, cradling the back of her head. With growing panic Rueben watched life fade from her.

"No!" Grabbing her shoulders, he shook her. "No, don't you dare leave me! Harmony!"

When her head lolled to one side he caught it, gently setting it straight. Her arms had gone limp, and her body seemed to sag into the bedding. Tears stung his eyes but did not fall. Inside his chest, his heart was breaking, each beat agonizing. No. No! Not again!

Running his hands across her face and arms, he began calling for her to wake. Telling himself that she was merely tired and needed rest. That she would recover, and they would start a life together. That she wasn't dead.

"I hea, Rueben Lane," Pangalia was at his side, a leathery hand on his shoulder. He stayed there as Rueben folded over her body, hugging his wife close for the last time.

~~~

The streets were busier than he remembered. Soldiers were at every town, fort, and port he'd passed through. Flyers were posted with his general description, offering a reward for his capture, dead or alive. Keeping his hat low over his brow, Rueben swung from the saddle and tied Indigo's reins to the rail, stepping into the cool shade of the covered boardwalk.

Death and sorrow clung to him, no memory giving him relief, with no way to ease his guilt. Every time he closed his eyes she was there. Sleep was becoming a stranger to him, the heaviness of it taking a toll.

Dodging all known trails, he'd avoided all areas where he might run into anyone who would recognize him. One more promise awaited fulfillment, so he'd made subtle inquiries and found his way to Sydney. The saddlebags he carried were heavy, and he took care not to knock them together.

"Can I help you, sir?" the man behind the hotel desk was short with a thin, neatly trimmed mustache and bald head. His hands stayed out of sight below the counter.

"Olivia Thatcher is staying here. She's expecting me."

Disapproval flicked across the clerk's face, but he obligingly turned the book, watching the big man sign the registry. A cursory glance at the name satisfied him, and he leaned both elbows on the counter.

"Second floor, first hallway, last door on the left."

"Thank you."

Feeling the man's gaze follow him, Rueben was careful not to look back as he went up the stairs, finding his way to her room. It had been a lie. She wasn't expecting him, but he also knew she was back to selling herself to get by. Pausing for a moment outside her door, he took a moment to gather himself. Two weeks to prepare, and he still had no idea what to say. He knocked.

"Come in." Her tone was silken, both inviting and aloof. Her green eyes flared wide as he stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him. "Rueben!"

Flying from the bed she caught him in a tight hug, laughing and crying. Burying her face in his chest, her shoulders shook, fingers clenching tightly into the fabric of his shirt. Rubbing her back, he let her get it out, glad to have the distraction.

"You're alive," wiping tears from her eyes, she beamed up at him. "I can't believe it!"

"I'm hard to kill," he meant to sound playful but fell flat. Her expression shifted to concern.

"What's the matter?"

"I came to give you this." Tossing a saddlebag on her bed, he watched her as the contents spilled out, sunlight turning the coins into a golden pool.

"Rueben..." covering her mouth, her gaze went between him and the gold. "Where did you get that?"

"Prescott."

"I heard he was killed," wary, she studied him. "In Port Jackson, inside the prison compound."

"I heard that too."

"So, this is mine?"

"I made you a promise."

"Lover, I... I don't know what to say,"

"Just tell me you'll get out of this life."

As if he'd slapped her, Olivia stepped back, hugging herself tightly.

"There wasn't much choice for a woman like me, Rueben. I would have starved."

"That won't be a problem anymore." Gesturing at the gold, he shrugged. "All you need to do is decide where you'll go."

"What about you?" Flicking her gaze at him, her intense green eyes pierced his soul. "Where are you going?"

Lips trembling, his nostrils flared, fingers clenching to try to hold off his heartbreak. To get through this without breaking down.

"Rueben?"

Shaking his head, he tried to form the words but couldn't. Her concern was cutting through his numbness, cracking the stone he'd built around himself. Tears began to spill down his cheeks and he sank to his knees.

"Oh Lover..." Going to him, she knelt, cautiously reaching out to brush a lock from his brow. "Rueben... what happened?"

Lifting his head, he gazed at her with a broken heart and soul. Crushed by the weight of his grief, Olivia gathered him into her arms, feeling him cling tightly to her. Stroking his hair, she murmured soothing assurances as he wept bitterly.

Sunset had come and gone before he regained full control of himself. Olivia sat on the floor, her arms around him, his head nestled to her breast. Slim fingers stroked his damp cheek. He'd managed to tell her everything and now felt drained. Without the strength to even sit up. It was the first time he had cried over his losses.

From what he'd told her, Olivia had assured him Harmony's death had been sickness. Unpreventable. Even if he'd been there, she still would have died. She'd meant to lessen his guilt, but it had the opposite effect. He could never atone for wasting the last few months they could have had together.

"What are you going to do now?" Her question was a wisp of sound in the silence. He plucked absently at a fold in her skirt before answering.

"Start over. Somewhere new. Where no one will ever know who I am, or what I've done."

"And the baby?"

"She is my blood. I'll raise her."

"The Aborigines have her now?" His nod was barely perceptible. "They are waiting for you?"

"Outside of town. I must book safe passage on a boat, but I wanted... I needed to make sure you were taken care of first."

"Rueben," hugging him close, she rested her cheek on his hair. "I think it's time someone took care of you for a change."

"No." Refusal pushed him to sit up, staring straight into her eyes. "I don't need anyone else getting involved."

"You're always so stubborn," cupping his jaw, she smiled at him. "As a friend, can't you just let me help you?"

"A friend," he didn't believe her. "Is that how you feel now?"

"No," her admission was quiet. "But I know better than to expect more from you. And I won't, I promise."

"Just like that?"

"I've had a lot of time to think about us, or, what was between us, and I can be... detached. I know I can."

"Everything I touch turns to dust," he warned, watching guarded hope spring to life in her eyes. "Any kind of life with me won't be easy."

"I know. I'll never complain."

"I'm going to tell her the truth, Olivia, when she's old enough to understand. My daughter will know who her mother is."

"I'll support you, whatever you decide. Just let me help you."

Hesitating, he pushed to his feet and then helped her up. Frowning as he rubbed a hand over his jaw, Rueben glanced at her.

"I love my wife, Olivia. I'm going to mourn her for a long time."

"How could I expect less?" Her smile was tender. "Once you love someone, it's with your whole being. That's how I realized you never loved me."

Uncomfortable with how well she knew him, Rueben looked away. He didn't want her to go with him but the idea of facing a fresh start alone, raising an infant, was almost overwhelming. If she was willing and he was careful, maybe it would work.

"Does this place have a bathhouse?"

"Yes, but," catching his sleeve, her grin was naughty. "I can shave you."

"Behave yourself."

"I am," lifting her chin, she swished her skirt at him. "When I'm not, you'll know."

"I'm half tempted to spank you just to set some ground rules."

"I'm tempted to let you. Lover."

With surprise, he realized she was flirting with him. Backing away, Rueben indicated the gold.

"I'm going for a bath, then to buy passage on the next boat headed for the new world. If you're coming, tell me now."

"Before that, can I ask one thing?"

"Yes."

"Your daughter, what's her name?"

"Melody," his voice caught, and he swallowed hard, attempting to smile. "Melody Lane."