This story came to me as I was watching "When Calls the Heart" on the Hallmark channel. The mini-series is from the book of the same name by Janette Oke, about a school teacher, Elizabeth Thatcher, in a small town. Her character inspired my plot bunny, but with several twists along the way, because of the Barkley's. I hope you all enjoy the story!

Disclaimer; I do not own the characters and the story is my own creation.

Chapter One

San Francisco, June 1878

Priscilla Converse took another look at herself in the mirror in her dorm room at the San Francisco Teaching College, before she answered Dean Locke's summons. Her sensible cream colored polished cotton blouse, with a gold framed cameo pin at her neck offset her tan and brown tweed skirt. The outfit was appropriate both for the climate of the city – spring might have come everywhere else, but the great port city was always the last to get the sun's warmth – and for her position as a soon to be graduated teacher.

She was indifferent to the weather though, as she regarded herself in the mirror, being displeased with what she saw there. Priscilla knew exactly what the standard for beauty was, and she met none of the criteria. A great beauty had dazzling blonde hair and blue eyes, or raven black hair with either said blue eyes, or flashing dark eyes. That thought brought up the image of someone that she really preferred not to think about.

Then of course there was the height requirement; a great beauty had to be tall and stately or petite and fairy like. Everyone knew the line from Shakespeare's great drama As You Like It; 'Rosalind stands as tall as my heart'. Priscilla, along with every other female, understood that to mean five foot or less. She herself at five foot, five was too tall to be considered dainty, but not tall enough to be stately.

Her hair too was a disappointment, even though her family had always told her it was the color of honey. Dark blonde sounded better than light brown, even though it was the same color. As she tucked in a hair pin she did like how it was thick, wavy, and shiny, making it easy to work with. Her skin was creamy, porcelain smooth, with cheeks that her grandfather had always said were like roses. Priscilla thought her full, pink lips kissable, not that any man had shown any interest so far. Her light blue eyes were the color of a summer sky, and very large in a perfect, oval face with good features.

No, she would never be a great beauty, or a dazzling fairy like girl, Priscilla told herself with a shake of her head. Her roommate, a fairy like girl with red hair and green eyes, was watching her with amusement. Phoebe Miller had started the college the same time as Priscilla, and they had become fast friends.

"You look fine Priscilla, so just relax. Dean Locke just wants to tell you that you have the job at St. Margaret's." Phoebe reassured her, with conviction. "It will be so exciting for you to go back to Los Angles and teach at the school that your grandmother started. And I know you will be glad to be closer to her." Priscilla's grandmother had retired to a small cottage not far from the Episcopal Church. The church, the first and only one in the city, had been founded by Priscilla's grandfather.

"I hope I have the job." Priscilla sighed, thinking about the three rounds of interviews she had done with the board of trustees there. It had been great to be back in Los Angles, where the sun shone with warmth that infused even the people there. San Francisco had been a shock to her, with its rain, fog, and dismal grey skies. If she was in Los Angles she would be able to keep an eye on her grandmother, who was frailer than she wanted to let on.

"Why wouldn't they hire you, Priscilla? You are at the top of your class, and having attended the school should be a bonus." Phoebe's green eyes were flashing, as she clapped her hands together.

"Well wish me luck; I'd better be to the Dean's office on time." Priscilla excused herself, and leaving the room went down the stairs, and walked across the hall to Dean Locke's office. He was an older man, with grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard, and he greeted her kindly.

"Miss Converse, I have two different job opportunities for you to consider." He began in a grave voice. It was the tone of the voice that made Priscilla take a closer look, and she noticed how somber his brown eyes seemed. She felt her heart drop to her feet, as she sensed she wasn't going to like what he was going to say.

"What do you mean by two opportunities? I only interviewed for the position at St. Margaret's." She tried to keep a calm tone, even as she clasped her hands together.

"The trustees at St. Margaret's have decided that they want someone older, and with more experience, Miss Converse." Dean Locke went on to state that while she was well thought of at the school, and he was sure that they would be willing to hire her at some future date, but for now she wasn't experienced enough. Her family connections notwithstanding, Priscilla realized that she wasn't going to get her wish to go back to Los Angles.

"What are these two opportunities? The ones that don't care that I am not experienced." She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, because she needed the job. It galled her though that all the student teaching she'd done, while taking education classes didn't seem to count for anything.

"I knew that you would be sensible, Miss Converse." The Dean visibility relaxed, glad that she had taken the bad news so well. "So many young women get upset at the least little thing, so I'm pleased that you are ready to move forward." Priscilla wished she didn't need a job so badly, and that she could afford to get upset.

Unfortunately, she had only a small amount of money that her father had left her, and she needed to be as careful as possible with it. Her grandparents had helped her with the tuition for college, but it had only gone so far. The thought of the money from her father made her think of her older sister, and what she'd done with her share, received when she'd turned eighteen.

It had been different for her sister though, because she was a beauty who knew exactly how to charm a man. Priscilla thought it unfair that society would view her sister, well married, as the better person; if they only knew the truth! She pushed that though to the back of her mind, as she tried to focus on what the Dean was saying.

"You would need to interview for both positions. One is located in the Washington Territory, while the other one is closer to home, in Stockton." The man presented the choices as if he was offering her a tasty dessert, but Priscilla didn't see it that way. The Washington Territory was weeks away, via a sea voyage; if she took that one it would be ages before she could see her grandmother. Stockton though, located in the San Joaquin Valley, held a different set of problems.

The Dean went on to explain that the superintendent for the school in Seattle, the main city in the Washington Territory, would be in town next week. That would save her the travel time, but would not give her the chance to see where she would be teaching. The Stockton position had been vacated without warning last month, when the previous teacher had left suddenly.

"Personally I think you would be a good fit for the Stockton position, Miss Converse. Rufus Morton, who is head of the school board, is very concerned that the teacher be a woman of faith. Mr. Morton is a deeply religious man, who serves on the advisory board for the church in Stockton." The Dean went on to talk more about Rufus Morton and his position in the community. Priscilla still processing the idea of Stockton was puzzled by the name of Morton – that was not the name she associated the city with.

"Miss Converse, several other teachers have interviewed for the position, but none have been found satisfactory. It was only yesterday, when I found out about St. Margaret's decision, that I proposed your name to the school board in Stockton." The older man was almost apologetic as he explained how things had come about.

"School Board? Who besides Mr. Morton is a member?" She tried to keep her voice calm, hoping that she wouldn't hear the name she was concerned about. Unfortunately, the Dean's words dashed that hope.

"Besides Mr. Morton, there is the Reverend Josiah Peterson, Mrs. Victoria Barkley, and another member of the family; it just says Mr. Barkley." The man frowned as he looked at the piece of paper he was holding, but Priscilla didn't notice. She was too busy trying not to look startled at the mention of the names of the other members. There was no way either of those Mr. Barkleys could be on the school board, she pondered, thinking they would be too young to be interested in children's education. Why, it had only been three years since; the Dean's voice broke her runaway train of thought.

"They would like to interview you tomorrow, in Stockton. I have been authorized to advance train fare for the day; lunch will be provided for you." Dean Locke smiled kindly, before he went on. "However, you have to be on the 9:00am express train to the valley, in order to make the interview. The next train doesn't run for almost two hours, making it a late arrival which would mean an overnight stay."

The next ten minutes were spent with the Dean telling her about Stockton, the school, and what she could be expected to encounter. Priscilla tried to pay attention to what the man was telling her, and not think about the Barkley's and Stockton. In any other circumstance she would be gratified beyond words by how Dean Locke was praising her, and her abilities, in recommending her for the position.

Finally she was able to escape his office, and make her way back to her room, where Phoebe was waiting. Her roommate had hot chocolate waiting for her, fortified with a tot of Irish whiskey, from an illegal bottle she kept in her hat box. Priscilla saw that her red-headed roommate was all set to celebrate, and she hated dashing her hopes.

"Phoebe I didn't get St. Margaret's! Instead I can go to Stockton, or the Washington Territory." Priscilla broke down, as she threw herself into her friend's arms. Phoebe, who knew the family history, regarded her with a horrified expression. She understood her friend's aversion to Stockton, and also the problem with the Washington Territory.

"Well I should have put a lot more whiskey in this hot chocolate!" Phoebe answered, getting the bottle out and pouring a generous amount into a water glass. Priscilla gulped it quickly, and held out the glass for more. Phoebe giggled at her normally restrained friend seeking solace in the bottle.

"Priscilla, maybe God has a reason for sending you to Stockton! Unfinished business?" Phoebe felt bad for her friend, and wanted to cheer her up. Priscilla's faith was strong, as Phoebe knew first hand, when she had helped her come to terms with her parents' sudden death. Phoebe had learned much from her roommate, and she was glad to be able to return the favor.

"So I have to go to Stockton, to meet with this religious Mr. Morton, and Mrs. Barkley?" Priscilla gulped her second glass of whiskey, not wanting to think of the Mr. Barkley who would also be at the meeting. Honestly she was starting to wonder if she was cursed, as she pondered her future. She couldn't go to Seattle; it would be too far from Granny, who only had her. It wasn't like her sister would do anything to help, she knew too well.

"It will be fine; they don't know who you are! And you look nothing like your sister, so I really don't see the problem." Phoebe saw that her friend needed reassurance. "As far as Mr. Morton, well your grandfather was the first Episcopal priest in Los Angles. He established a parish, and a school, which you attended and then helped out with. The man is going to swoon over you Priscilla!" She knew that her friend was a true Christian woman, and any school would be lucky to get her.

"Oh fine, so I have to be on that train tomorrow! Ugh!" Priscilla declined another glass, not wanting a headache for the train ride. Instead she reached for the small prayer book she kept by her bed, as she thought about Phoebe's comment that God wanted her to go to Stockton. Goodness knows, she thought, she had cleaned up more than her share of her sister's messes, while the woman resided in Los Angles.

To her mind, Stockton was just her worst fear, and she remembered one of the old ladies in the pueblo back in Los Angles. Tia Carmen liked to cackle that God was really a woman with a bad sense of humor. Right now, after two glasses of whiskey, Priscilla was ready to agree that the old woman was right.

Later that night…

Nick Barkley was at the craps table in the private gambling room of the Golden Dragon saloon, with a year's worth of wages in chips in front of him. He had come into the city yesterday, to enjoy a brief break between the chores of the spring branding, and the late summer round up. At first it had been great to come into the city, and check into a lavish suite of the Empress Hotel.

He enjoyed the status he held, as a wealthy ranching and mining heir, in the state of California. Nick could tough it out on the trail with the best of them, but at the end of the day he liked the comforts his money – earned by him- could buy. Most of the day had been spent with his tailor, replenishing his wardrobe, then with his tobacconist, to order more cigars. He had finished up with dinner at the Mining Exchange, with one of the partners in the Barkley Mining interest.

He then went off to kick up his heels, before going back to the ranch to work. He started out at the Union Bank Club, and then moved on to several other popular haunts for gentlemen looking for a good time. Nick had heard about the private room at the Golden Dragon, and as he looked at the pile of chips in front of him he knew he should be glad that he'd come.

The fact that he wasn't happy was because of the feeling that was coming over him, one that he had experienced twice before. If Nick had talked about it with anyone, he would have likened it to the experience of seeing and hearing things almost too clearly. It was as if someone had sharpened his already good vision and hearing, to almost painful levels.

Now he looked around the room and noticed how tawdry the décor, all red and gold with too many gilt dragons, really was. The glittering gold animals sparkled brightly, as if they were newly minted; Nick knew though that it was cheap gilding, the kind that would come off in your hand if you held it for too long.

Nick then looked at the men in the room, and the fancy girls there for pleasure, and saw too many flushed, red faces and blurry eyes. The smell of whiskey and tobacco assaulted his nose, even as he was drinking and smoking too, causing him to stub out his barely smoked cigar, as he pushed his almost full glass away.

Nick wasn't surprised when the next wave of too heightened feeling hit him; the loneliness he now perceived cut to his heart with sharp precision. It wasn't just a physical loneliness, but also an emotional one, as if he was separated from everyone by a pane of glass. He knew that there was no reason for him to feel that way, with the availability of female companionship he could choose from. There was always a fancy girl who would be glad to amuse him for a night, or even a week, many of them very beautiful. If more permanent company was what he wanted, there were any number of society approved young ladies who would be more than glad to be Mrs. Nicholas Barkley.

His difficulty was that he didn't want a beautiful courtesan that he'd bought her company, nor did he want a young woman who only wanted to marry him for his money and position. Nick by now was a master at recognizing the look that would come into the eyes of a girl, and her mother, when he paid attention to her. It wasn't quite dollar signs, but pretty close to it, and he hated being regarded as a meal ticket, or a prize to be won.

As the loneliness engulfed him, he perceived that this was the worst spell yet of the condition. The other two times that it had happened, he had tried to drink it away, with appalling results, including being arrested after the second episode. Nick realized that he needed to get out of the hot, over bright, over loud room before he did something stupid and dangerous. Quickly picking up his chips, he walked away from the table, and went over to cash them in.

Once outside he took several deep breaths of the damp night air, not minding the scent of the harbor, as he cleared his lungs. Nick felt his senses starting to return to normal, but the loneliness was still there, and he sighed as he walked back to his hotel. He knew when it had started, with Heath's engagement to Sarah Rose.

It wasn't that he didn't feel happiness for his brother, at finding love; no, Nick couldn't imagine anyone better for Heath than Sarah. Her mother, Penelope had taken over Jenny's dressmaking shop, having come out from St. Louis for a new start, after her husband's death. Sarah was as talented as her mother, and worked alongside her in the shop. Nick still thought it funny that Heath, who had complained about having to take Audra for a fitting, had ended up meeting Sarah because of it.

Sarah was a quiet girl, with chocolate brown hair and almost puppy dog eyes in a pretty face. Nick had enjoyed watching a very smitten Heath pursue her with a dogged determination. He had cheered his brother on, and had been as happy as Heath was when Sarah said yes to his proposal. It was only after the engagement party that Nick had found himself envious of his brother's happiness. That had been when the first episode had occurred, causing him to drink more than he'd had in a long time. As far as the second episode, well he didn't want to think about that.

His mood had not been helped by the news that Jenny was engaged, and would not be coming back to Stockton. Nick had fallen harder than he let on for the pretty redhead, and he knew that some of her appeal was that she was different as could be from the other ladies he'd fallen for before. When he heard that she was marrying an army officer, he could at least be glad that she had made peace with her father.

Walking down the almost deserted street on this June night, he reviewed all the women he had known, and wondered what the hell he'd been thinking, with each one. For some reason the image of the gold dragons in the hot, over loud room that he'd just left came to his mind. The women who paraded in his brain now, he saw, were just like those dragons. All pretty and sparkly to look at, but they were fool's gold that would flake off; real gold warmed and glowed when you held it.

It was a relief to arrive at his hotel, and turn in for bed, knowing that tomorrow he would head home. Nick always felt best when he was on his land, and it came to him that he needed to find a woman who would understand that about him. Not just that though, but someone who he could share that life with, someone who would be happy with him, through the good and the bad. The last thought he had was that he'd been going about it all wrong, but he wasn't sure what the right way was.