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earlier hunger. "Everyone in Liberty knows I was Beau's girl, and I can't bear the way people there look at me now. It's as though he died only yesterday rather than a year ago; their pity is so clear in their gaze. If I live there until I am one hundred I will always be that poor Cabrielle MacLaren whose fiance died so tragically. I have no hope of having a happy life there, and now that my aunt is dead, there is absolutely no reason for me to stay."
    Jason chewed the succulent roast beef slowly as he watched her cut a tiny bite from her meat. They would spend the entire night dining if she continued to eat so fastidiously, but suddenly he didn't care. He was content simply to be with her, to share her pain as he'd never shared another woman's grief. "To say I am sorry does not seem to be nearly enough. Miss MacLaren. Since you want to go so badly, I will see if I can't arrange for your passage somehow. I am taking a large number of people this time. If there is no room for you with the young women we interviewed today, then I will simply find space somewhere else."
    "Can you really do that?" Cabrielle's tears had made the blue of her eyes even more vivid, and now her gaze was not only rapt but fascinating as well.
    Laughing, Jason nodded. "I am the wagon master, Miss MacLaren. The entire wagon train is my responsibility, and what I say goes or people are invited very quickly to take their wagons elsewhere."
    Cabrielle smiled in return, for his mood was infectiously pleasant. "Aren't you very young for such a job? I thought the

    wagon master would be a veteran of many trips along the trail/^
    **0h, I am indeed a veteran. I began at a very tender age.*' Seeing that her interest was sincere, Jason related the tale of his first trek upon the Oregon Trail, being careful never to mention any incident which involved even the slightest peril upon the water. She was so charming a companion he was surprised when he looked down and found not a morsel remaining on his plate. Wanting an excuse to continue their conversation, he ordered apple pie, which he ate as slowly as possible while she sipped her coffee and smiled at all his stories as if they were a delight to hear. When finally he could delay no longer, he folded his napkin and placed it beside his dessert plate.
    "I promised to arrange for your lodgings. Let's see what's available." He signed the tab for their dinners and, taking her arm, escorted her to the reception desk.
    ''Miss MacLaren will need a room for the night, just add the expense to my bill."
    The thin, balding night clerk swallowed nervously as he explained why that request must be denied. "I am most dreadfully sorry, Mr. Royal, but the hotel if filled to capacity. We don't even have a closet to let."
    "Nor do we want one!" Jason replied crossly for it had not even occurred to him that he might be unable to find Gabrielle a room. There were other hotels, but none in which he'd care to leave any woman alone for the night, most certainly not one as lovely as Gabrielle. "I believe you have her luggage. I'll take it please."
    "Where are we going?" Gabrielle whispered anxiously, for like Jason she had lost all track of the time and had not realized the hour was late until she'd glanced at the clock upon the wall behind the desk.
    "You'll see." Jason carried her one valise in his left hand while he laced the fingers of his right in hers. With long sure strides he led her out the front door and down the sidewalk to the corner of the two-story building. "Clayton and I have a

    suite of rooms, the drawing room where we interviewed the young ladies and bedrooms on either side. I'll give you my room, for the rest of the hotels in this town are far too rowdy to serve single ladies."
    Cabrielle looked up and down the street. She'd made such infrequent visits to Kansas City that she could not dispute his description of the inns, but she doubted taking his room was a proper solution.
    'That is very generous of you, Mr. Royal, but