With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel by Amanda Cabot Page A

you took on his case?” The instant the words left her lips, Elizabeth regretted them. How gauche of her. She’d put Jason in a difficult position, all because her curiosity had overruled her common sense.
    “You don’t mince words, do you?” To her surprise, he didn’t sound angry, simply a bit startled.
    “I’m so sorry, Jason. Sometimes my tongue runs away with itself. I had no right to ask that.”
    “Yes, you did. We’re friends, or at least I’d like to think we are, and friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”
    “Thank you for not being annoyed with me. And thank you, too, for counting me as one of your friends.” Elizabeth liked the idea that she and Jason were friends. Her first patient and a new friend. It was indeed a good day.
    His expression serious, Jason said, “To answer your question, no, I didn’t know my client was guilty until he announced it in the courtroom. He swore he was innocent every time we met, and I believed him.”
    Though Elizabeth’s heart soared with the knowledge that Jason had not knowingly helped exonerate a killer, his lips twisted into a grimace. “I never thought I was gullible, but the evidence seems to say otherwise.”
    She was the one who’d introduced the painful subject. There had to be a way she could provide at least a bit of comfort. Elizabeth led the way into her waiting room and took a seat on one of the benches, indicating that Jason should sit next to her. “You had no way of knowing Adam Bennett was a liar,” she said as firmly as she could.
    Jason shrugged. “I keep thinking I should have.”
    Elizabeth turned slightly so she was facing Jason. His eyes were solemn, and his chin looked more square than normal, as if he were clenching his jaw. “How could you know? My father used to say that only God sees inside our hearts.”
    A short nod acknowledged her words. “He sounds like a wise man.” Jason appeared to relax. “Perhaps I’ll meet your parents someday. With both you and your sister settling here, I imagine they’re eager to see Cheyenne.”
    Elizabeth had tried but failed to picture her parents in Wyoming. Neither one had been west of Lake Champlain, a factPapa had once announced with pride. They were both Vermonters to the core, and though they’d been nurturing parents, she doubted they would have approved their daughters’ move West.
    Rather than try to explain all that to Jason, Elizabeth said, “Papa died half a dozen years ago. My mother never really recovered from that or from being forced to leave the parsonage. She died less than two years later.”
    “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine that it’s ever easy to lose a parent. I know it was difficult for me when my father died.” Jason shifted on the bench, seemingly searching for a comfortable position. When he looked back at Elizabeth, his expression reflected curiosity. “You mentioned a parsonage. Was your father a minister?”
    She nodded. “You sound surprised.”
    “I am. I didn’t realize that we had more in common than sharing this building. My father was a minister too.”
    Though his tone was matter-of-fact, Elizabeth realized she’d been given a key to Jason. More than many, she now understood what his childhood had been like. It was no wonder Mrs. Moran had raised him. If Jason’s father had been like hers, he had been so busy with his parishioners that he had little time to spend with his son and had probably been unaware of how unkind the woman he trusted to care for Jason was. Elizabeth had been fortunate, for she’d had Mama and her sisters, but Jason had had no one other than the housekeeper. No wonder he had such strong opinions about how children should be raised.

     
    The room was crowded, filled with large bodies, loud voices, and the smells of tobacco, Macassar oil, and perfume. Young women, and some who were no longer so young, smiled at the men who lined the bar, standing closer than a society matron would feel proper. Phoebe Simcoe laughed