Prologue
Books of Shadow

Books are odd things.

Often lauded as the greatest expression of human achievement, their importance is also derided by the ignorant who believe no stain upon civilization can be forgotten so long as it is recorded in the pages of a book. A book is a different thing to different people. For some, it expands the mind to boundaries beyond comprehension, or seal it off irrevocably through content and dogma. Throughout the ages, the power of the written word has become almost mythical and for its value to history, it can be no other way. When ink sinks into parchment, preserved for the ages, civilisation is gifted with immortality.

There are also books held sacred and hidden in dark places where those who do not know the proper forms, are forbidden to consult the secrets kept in the yellowed pages. Through time and mystery, these are kept secreted away from men by its authors, for reasons inexplicable to all but themselves. Such books contain secrets best forgotten by all and yet from time to time, they surface long enough to fall into the hands of those who have no idea what it is they have stumbled upon.

Like Books of Shadow.

Sometimes known as Grimoires, the secrets contained within speak of things incredible and yet terrifying. They are not merely recordings of past times but are instead gateways to the worlds hidden within the mists, known only to the select few who are able to cross its threshold. They exist as windows to forbidden knowledge, best forgotten by those who are unable to appreciate reality is soft and translucent, not at all the hard, immovable things everyone believes it to be. Reality can bend as easily as light might do so on a sheet of glass. It takes skill to understand what is contained within a Grimoire. Certainly, its authors understood that and riddled their writings with cryptic and fanciful words, designed to addle the minds of the uninformed and yet accessible to those who knew the craft.

The Grimoire that travelled from the old continent to the New World certainly had as auspicious a pedigree as any written throughout the ages. Its author was a genuine practitioner of the craft, a man who was a mage in every sense of the word. Written in the time before Christianity paralyzed the world and made anything it did not understand sin, the Grimoire held the knowledge of the craft from its more basic spells to grandiose enchantments that could see the heavens shake upon conjuring. It fell into the hands of many owners, some good, some bad, some who sought to learn and some who sought to abuse. The Grimoire itself held no malevolence or enlightenment, it simply was what it was.

For most of its existence in the new world, it was considered little more than a family heirloom, an oddity to be kept in a box in someone's attic, never considered further beyond the fact that it was there. It sat within its confines, a benign power awaiting release by those who had no idea of what its pages contained, what those words written in old script was meant to signify. It was not to say it never reached the hands of those who knew exactly what it was and exploited the forbidden writings trapped within its pages. During those occasions, there were usually terrible consequences for those who sought to dabble in the arcane especially when non-believers, usually puritanical Christians, learned of these attempts. Death and destruction usually followed, leaving a stain of violence that left neither side unscathed. Eventually, the Grimoire fell into the hands of a pastor who knew what it was but could never bring himself to destroy it.

The book knew how to protect itself.

Being a man of the cloth who felt it a mortal sin to even possess such a thing, he could never understand why the resolve to rid himself of it never came and so it remained locked in a trunk, forgotten. It remained in the pastor's keeping who never told anyone of its existence and the trunk continued to gather dust over the years, keeping its greatest secret locked inside its wooden confines. It remained anonymous as long as the house was occupied by the pastor's kin, unseen and lost as the generations continued to thrive with the years until finally one day, a widow wishing to make a new start in a new place, chose to sell up and move away.

The woman, who was in herself as unique a specimen as the Grimoire she unknowingly had in her possession, surveyed the attic where the trunk was hidden for so long and at last noticed this relic from her family's history. With a girl child beside her, she managed to open the rusted lock keeping the box sealed and released air that had been locked away for more than a century.

The woman, scholar that she was, saw it as a book of spells from a time when people were foolish enough to believe in such superstition. She examined it with mild interest, her fascination lasting no longer than the realization it had been in her family's possession for a long time and she would not be the one to discard it. It was an oddity to her at best and she tucked it away with the rest of the possessions to make the exodus with her into a new life.

However, the girl child found the book to be more than just a bit of curiosity. As her small fingers scanned the pages before her, she found her mind bending to the idea of nothing being set in stone as she believed. Her mother had always said the world was an arena of unlimited possibilities and until she read the first lines in the Grimoire, had no idea how true that could be.

She scoured its pages with youthful eagerness, unaware what she was learning had the power to change her irrevocably, caring only that a new world had opened up for her and it was a world through which only she had passage. Her mother saw no reason to discourage her, but she did make an attempt to explain what was in those old pages of faded ink was not real and merely a collection of old wives tales. Never one to impede her child's desire to learn anything, she allowed the girl the freedom to explore this interest. However, she was mindful of how the more Christian members of the community might react to this and offered the child a hint of warning regarding whom she should expose this new hobby. Besides, she had greater things to concern herself with at the present time than her daughter's extracurricular interests.

With a husband not long in the ground and the town they resided offering nothing but sad memories of a life now gone forever, she made the decision to leave. Finding a position in her line of work was never difficult but finding a place was. She was not a conventional woman in any sense of the word. She loved life and she loved living it to its fullest. Her husband understood that and until the fever took him away forever, she never had any reason to evaluate how she lived. He accommodated her eccentricities just as she now tolerated her young daughter's fascination with the strange book she had found. However, while he always played the stabilizing influence in their family, she found it disconcerting the role now fell to her and the decision to leave was based much on that reason.

It was no easy thing leaving behind all she knew but then nothing ever was. As the winter arrived, it was a symbolic ending not only to the year that had been but also to the life lived in a town quickly sliding into the cobwebs of yesteryear. As everything treasured was loaded into their wagon to make the journey with them, she and her daughter left their entire world behind and embarked on a journey into the unknown.

Almost as unknown as what was contained in the Grimoire that went with them.

Chapter One
Season's Greetings

It was usually the mornings that gave Chris Larabee the most difficulty remembering he was married again.

He would wake up in Mary's bed, cursing himself for staying the entire night when he should have been gone hours ago. Sometimes, if the delusion persisted, Chris would even remain there in the cool sheets, with her warmth next to his, wondering how he could sneak out in daylight without everyone knowing he was sharing her bed. Only after a minute or so, when he looked around and noticed some of his things had taken positions of permanence within the room, would it all come back to him. With almost jarring realization, Chris would remember he had married Mary and there was no need for him to sneak out of her home like a thief in the night.

For the first mornings after he and Mary settled permanently into their new life together, Chris had experienced such disorientation. However, as it was with all things when it came to him, Chris was highly adaptable and soon, he was waking up in the mornings wondering how he could ever imagine Mary never being there at all. Sometimes, they did not always wake up straight away and their lovemaking seemed all the sweeter when Chris did not have to get up and leave for fear of scandal or gossip. These days, the only thing they had to worry about was Billy walking in on them but as Mary had explained, there was a good reason why she opted to put her son in the bedroom at the far end of the hall.

If someone told Chris two years ago he would one day be sitting at a breakfast table, enjoying bacon and eggs with a wife who was cleaning up and a son who was somewhat absorbed by a carving he was making, Chris would have told them they were insane. Yet here he was doing just that, watching Billy with interest as the young boy carved something out of wood in the fashion Chris had taught him when they first met. He shifted his gaze to Mary who clearing their empty plates from the table, wondering how he was lucky enough to stumble into this piece of paradise twice in his life. When he lost Sarah and Adam, Chris never believed he would live like this again but the days since he and Mary entered wedded bliss had been just that, bliss.

"More coffee?" Mary asked Chris, snapping out of his reverie.

Chris glanced at his empty cup and was about to answer when Billy pushed out of his chair and announced. "I'm going now ma."

The young boy seemed in a hurry to make tracks somewhere although neither Chris nor Mary was overly curious as to where he was going.

"Where are you going, Billy?" Mary asked, still cautious enough about her son's whereabouts to be slightly overprotective, in light of the incidents of danger that seemed to follow them both.

"Me and Lily are going to see Julia." The boy said enthusiastically and Mary did not honestly know whom he was more eager to see, the emporium owner who had become one of her closest friends or Lily King, the young daughter of the new schoolmistress. Ever since the arrival of mother and daughter in town, Billy had struck up a friendship with the young girl who had sun-streaked hair and the laughing green eyes. Mary guessed their friendship had arisen due to the fact Billy knew what it was like to be the new arrival in town.

"Well remember," Mary offered a note of motherly advice as it was her prerogative to do, thank you very much. "Don't take advantage of Julia's hospitality, the woman does have a business to run." She met Chris's gaze with a faint smile and hoped for Ezra's sake, the gambler had no plans with Julia today because Billy tended to monopolize her time.

"I won't. Bye ma, bye Chris," he said cheerily and swept out of the kitchen before either could say a word to stop him.

"You know," Mary sighed as she continued clearing the table. "I figure I'd have a few years before he started chasing after reputable and wealthy women in town."

"Anything that drives Ezra crazy can't be all that bad," Chris chuckled, taking great enjoyment in seeing Ezra fighting Billy for Julia's affections in recent days.

"So are we agreed on having everyone here for Christmas?" Mary asked as she paused in her tidying up for a moment. She had a dozen different things to do today and wanted an answer on this point so she could start to make the necessary arrangements.

"I guess." Chris shrugged, not really having a preference on this subject actually. Any Christmas where he was not in a saloon somewhere getting completely plastered was a good thing in his opinion. "Whatever you like."

"Good," Mary smiled. For some reason, this was the first Christmas she would have with Billy at home permanently and Chris as her husband, she wanted to celebrate the occasion and wanted their friends to share it with them.

"You know," Chris met her gaze with a wry smile. "It's going to be hard for me to keep my reputation as the bad element with all this clean living. You're making me soft, woman."

"Well," Mary laughed turning back to her cleaning. "You're tough, you can handle it."

*********

"Have you got it all?" The young girl asked.

Billy nodded, bringing forward the collection of items he had been instructed to locate and then 'borrow' for the ritual to be performed in the quiet of the attic he now found himself in.

"I brought the horse Chris made for me," Billy announced as he produced the cache from almost two days of hard work. Unwrapping the large scarf he used to carry it all, he lay the bundle onto the floor for her inspection.

"Are you sure this is all theirs?" Lily King asked again, her young face frowning with concentration as she questioned her new friend on this particular point.

"I'm sure," Billy nodded, wanting desperately to begin. Ever since he met Lily a few weeks ago, the young girl had astonished him with amazing stories about places and people he had no idea existed. He found her fascinating as she spoke of scary things like spells and magic although she did not claim to be a witch. When he confessed to not knowing what he would buy for Julia Pemberton because he wanted his gift to the lady to be special, Lily presented him with the perfect idea for a gift, even if the acquiring of it was rather unusual.

When she explained it to him, Billy became convinced he did not simply have to use the gift for Julia alone, he could use it on everyone. With one magic spell as Lily put it, he could give everyone he cared about, the best Christmas of their lives. Of course, it had not been a simple matter of just paying for it with the money he saved up. This was a gift that had to be bought with objects, not money. Lily had told him what to collect and over the course of the next few days, he had been diligently retrieving personal items from everyone he held close to his heart.

One of his ma's hairpins were in the collection, as well as the carving Chris made him. It had been difficult acquiring the personal effects of the others but somehow he managed it. He had a deck of cards from Ezra, a pen from Doctor Styles's office, a book that belonged to Josiah, a stolen instrument from Nathan's infirmary as well as a novel belonging to J.D. Buck had given him a pocketknife some time ago and he had a handkerchief from Inez, not to mention an earing Billy was ashamed to admit had come from Julia's house without her knowledge. All of it was wrapped up tidily in one of Vin's numerous scarves.

Still, Billy was troubled whether or not dabbling in such magic was a good idea. After all, his Sunday school teacher often said witches were bad and evil. Billy did not want to be evil. He just wanted to give all his friends something nice and if it could be achieved using a little magic, what was the harm in that? However, just to make sure, he consulted Josiah about the ethical uses of magic. The preacher did not seem to believe there was anything wrong in spells and superstition, provided Billy knew them for what they were.

Billy had the impression Josiah did not really believe in magic but the preacher told him it was a sin only if he believed he was doing something wrong. Billy did not think he was behaving improperly by making a wish for those in his life that could only bring them happiness. Thus, if he believed he was not wrong about what he was doing, it could hardly be a sin, could it?

"Okay," Lily replied eager to begin as she opened the trunk and brought out the book that would make Billy Travis's Christmas wish come true. "We can start." 

*********

Vin Tanner was not having a good day.

When Chris Larabee asked him to deliver a prisoner to Sweetwater, it was a straight forward enough request. It did not appear to be any more than a one-man job and the prisoner, whose crimes involved bank fraud, appeared to be relatively docile. The trip to Sweetwater was uneventful with the prisoner who went by the name of Wayne Ellis, spent most of the journey trying to explain to Vin why he committed the crimes he had. Vin listened patiently, not really absorbing much but hearing enough to know the man had better luck with the ladies then Vin himself did, possessing not only a wife but also a mistress for which he had been forced to steal to support.

They set out at dawn, venturing reluctantly into the early morning frost since winter had well and truly arrived. Although it was not snowing, the air had chilled considerably with a grey pall settling over much of the landscape. The sun disappeared behind a canvas of clouds that seemed ready to storm at a moment's notice and the terrain appeared as gloomy for a time of year that should be one of celebration. Everyone was expecting to see snow at some point because the winter had so far promised enough chills to indicate the weather was not going to warm up any time soon.

Vin preferred spring himself. He liked the warmth that came with the thaw and the land no matter how stark it would be for the rest of the year, would attain a momentary beauty as things came to life beneath the sun. In summer, it was just too hot with things starting to brown and while the golden colour across the landscape was enticing in its own way, it did not have the resplendent beauty of spring greenery. He supposed seasons were a necessary part of life and the past year had been one of many changes. It was astonishing how much in life could be altered in such a short space of time but it had happened without any consultation from him.

It was not long ago he was just another lone drifter with a price on his head. Now he was a lawman with friends who would die for him and he in turn for them, as well as a woman who loved him enough to wear his ring on her finger.

Sometimes, Vin had trouble believing any of this was real and he was going to wake up one day and find himself alone in the hills, having driven himself mad from his self-imposed exile.

It was early afternoon when they finally arrived at Sweetwater and Vin had enough time to get some food, allow Peso a rest and peruse the shopping list given to him by Alex. As much as he loved Alex, this was one chore he absolutely hated doing for her or anyone for that matter. Unfortunately, the time of year meant he would be required to do some shopping and while he could have saved himself the bother by doing at the Emporium, Vin preferred some privacy to suffer this particular ordeal. Besides, he was not a very good shopper and anticipated he would need the help.

It was not that he did not have the money for gift buying, far from it actually. Since becoming engaged, Vin realized how important it was to have something tucked away in a bank since the traditional part of him felt he should at least have a penny to his name when he and Alex did decide to finally get married. Thus when things were slow in Four Corners, he would take up his bounty hunting trade, disappearing for a few days while he tracked down criminals and then let Chris turn them in for the substantial bounty. Of course, he was careful never to go after the big game, lest attention was brought back to his own status as a fugitive. Before he knew it, he had a little over five hundred dollars sitting inside the bank at Four Corners. Since he had been living quite well on his dollar a day before taking on this work to supplement his income, almost none of the cash was touched since its initial deposit.

Vin studied the list Alex gave him after he deposited Ellis with the local sheriff and groaned at the discovery that most of the items on it were personal things, like linen and a length of fabric she ordered a week ago. The concept of having to go into any store to pick up material for a dress was so horrifying Vin cursed himself for not taking a closer look at the list before agreeing to run this errand for her. It was bad enough he would have to muddle through buying Christmas presents, not only for Alex but for the rest of his friends, but it now looked like he would have to go browsing in a ladies shop.

Steady there Tanner, he told himself. He could do this. He had tracked ruthless killers across the countryside, through every terrain imaginable and somehow managed to survive. This could not be any worse than that. Besides, how bad could it be? He asked himself while studying the list as he made his way down the boardwalk flanking the main street that ran through the large community.

Sweetwater was much larger than Four Corners and was quickly growing into a small city just like Eagle Bend. The railroad had come through Sweetwater some months ago and more or less established the town's permanence on any map. Unlike smaller places like Four Corners which was still in danger of fading away, as so many towns like across the Territory tended to do when the boom times disappeared, Sweetwater could survive such economic depression.

Thanks to the improvement in his literary skills, Vin was able to decipher most of what Alex asked for on her list and wondered why she had asked him to hand over the piece of paper to the clerk and come back for the parcels later. She was probably trying not to embarrass him by having him attempt to read out the contents to the shop clerk. While he was grateful for the consideration, Vin could not help feeling slightly annoyed at her thinking he was not capable of reading one simple piece of paper. After all, he had been secretly practising his reading skills and Mary was still helping him to improve on what he already learned.

Vin knew his way around Sweetwater after numerous visits to the town but it was the first time he ventured any further beyond the livery, the jailhouse or the saloon. Vin had never a reason to do so until now and felt like a stranger as he wandered through the streets, looking for the particular store Alex had wanted him to visit. How was it that he could track a man across four states but could get completely lost trying to follow a woman's supposedly simple directions? After half an hour trying to discern the difference between one ladies clothing shop from another and coming to the firm conclusion they were all the same, Vin finally found the place he was searching for with growing chagrin.

It did not help matters that as soon as he passed through the door, with its bell ringing noisily to let the store owner know someone had entered, every woman in the place was eyeing him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Vin felt more at ease walking into a gunfight then he did walking into their midst, feeling for a moment as if he had crossed into forbidden territory that men as a whole were not allowed to breach. Feeling all eyes on him as he proceeded to the counter, Vin found his movements almost stealthy as he attempted to fade into the background and realized unless he had a skirt on, there was not much chance of that happening. Trying not to feel as intimidated as he looked, the tracker walked past the curious gazes of women who were wondering what this rough and tumble character was doing here in their midst.

"Can I help you?" A rather dour-faced woman regarded him with a raised brow.

"I'm here for a lady," Vin declared, feeling some inexplicable need to establish this point most firmly before any further communication could continue.

"Obviously." The woman retorted, telling Vin in that one word he could just forget about salvaging his dignity.

"She gave me this." He mumbled, pushing a scrap of paper Alex was adamant he did not lose for he would be able to collect nothing for her if he had.

The woman unfolded the receipt and recognized the purchaser and the order.

"This is for Doctor Styles," she remarked and then let her eyes move up and down Vin with an expression in her eyes that showed she did not at all approve of him having any association with Alex. "Wait here." She said after a moment having decided she had no reason to refuse the request since he had all the correct papers to make the collection.

Vin was starting to get annoyed not just by her suspicious look but also the way the other women were trying not to stare at the tracker as they went about their business, purchasing clothes, hats and other pieces of feminine apparel. As the shop assistant went away to fill his order, Vin found himself taking a closer look at his surroundings, having never been in one of these establishments before. It certainly did not look like the general where he bought his clothes where men's clothes and the farming equipment were separated by one aisle and most of the time, no one saw any difference in the utilitarian function of either.

This place might have as well been a different world. He supposed it never occurred to him how much actual work it took to look the way women did. Hats and bonnets, dresses and skirts, blouses and waist shirts, it all seemed terribly restrictive, not to mention the undergarments he spied on mannequins like corsets and chemises. Those were just the clothes! He saw other accessories like hairpins, earrings and shoes, lots of shoes and suddenly, realized it was a good thing Alex had an inheritance because if she did not have any money to her name, she would be naked.

Perhaps it was not all that bad after all, he thought with a smile.

He came to the small counter that acted as the shop's perfumery and decided he had not bought her a Christmas present yet. He spied some rose water sitting in a small decorative bottle and decided that would do. Vin whose sense of smell was keen was able to tell this was Alex's scent from the numerous times he breathed it on her skin. Picking up the bottle in his hands, he decided it was not a bad selection and turned around, only to stray into the path of a large matron who was built like a brick outhouse. Her weight as she impacted against him did not give the small bottle he was holding the least chance of escape as it broke. Fortunately, Vin was wearing his buckskins as the bottle was crushed between them and the fragments did him little damage against the strength of its leather. However, the jacket was soaked completely in rose water.

And so was he.

"Really Sir," the matron bellowed. "You should watch where you're going!"

"Where I'm going?" Vin retorted, exceedingly annoyed because he smelled like something Buck would end up trying to bed tonight, not to mention he had to ride back to Four Corners like this. Peso was going to be really pissed.

"What's going on?" The shop clerk demanded as she appeared from the back of the premises, having been drawn out by the slight altercation that was forming between Vin and one of her customers.

"This ruffian ran into me!" The matron declared first.

"Ruffian?" Vin looked at her, starting to think it would be worth another five hundred dollars on his head if he could just shoot her.

"I think it would be best if you just collect your order and leave." The clerk said glaring at Vin like this was all his fault.

With the situation as bad as it was, Vin decided perhaps a tactful withdrawal was in order. He was even willing to brave the emporium in Four Corners because he was sure as hell was not going to be spending the rest of day walking around Sweetwater smelling like a two-dollar whore. Then he found out he had to pay for the broken bottle of rose water. It was almost the last straw until suddenly the shop clerk thrust upon him, a bale of floral patterned material which could not be wrapped because of its width.

Vin was practically seething as he stormed out of the store, smelling like rosewater and carrying a length of floral material clearly exposed for all to see. As he took the fastest route to the livery and Peso, Vin saw the looks people were giving him as their nose twitched in reaction to his passing by. Some men had started grinning while women were tittering softly. He did not know which they found funnier. Vin who hated to be noticed by anyone was ready to shoot the next person who smiled when they came across him.

"Hey sweetheart," he heard someone say behind him and Vin decided whoever it was, was about to die.

"You got something to say, Mister?" Vin turned around and dropped whatever was in his hands when he realized he was standing before two men who had not come across him by chance. He recognized both of them as bounty hunters from back in the day and knew they were tough as they were dangerous.

"I knew I was right about the talk." The first one, called McGillis who was a hulk of a man glared at Vin with nothing but the menace in his face as Vin's hand slowly move to his gun. McGillis was a loudmouth who liked to talk and posture. That gave Vin enough of a distraction to act.

"I heard that you'd been hiding out behind Larabee's shadow, I just didn't know why." He took a step towards Vin and pretended to take in a deep breath before meeting the young tracker's eyes with a suggestive sneer. "Now I do."

As the full implication of what the man meant sunk in, he and his companion began to laugh and Vin felt the fragments of a so far annoying day reach boiling point. Reacting when he should have been thinking, Vin threw a punch into the man's jaw before he had any idea that it was coming. As he staggered from the blow, his companion went for his gun only to have Vin jam the Winchester in his chest and fire. The resounding boom from the rifle sent the man flying backwards as Vin dropped to his knees. McGillis had now recovered to enough to launch an attack of his own; swinging at the same time Vin ducked. However, the man reacted just as swiftly, kneeing Vin in the chest and sending the tracker sprawling. Vin recovered long enough to see the man go for his gun and knew if he drew the weapon, both could very well end up killing each other.

With his grip still firm on his own weapon, Vin swung his arm over his shoulder faster than he had ever done before and pulled the trigger.

McGillis's six-shooter flew out of his hand and landed on the ground, causing screams of fright from the women who were watching the altercation. However, he was still determined to attack. With his second bullet discharged, both men stood on equal footing. Vin knew exactly why McGillis had come after the bounty on his head. He had mistaken the sharpshooter was easy prey and Vin had every intention of showing him he was going to earn every penny of the $500 on Vin Tanner's head.

His opponent was big but Vin was fast and it was easy enough for him to get on his feet before McGillis could reach him. Predictably, McGillis swung hard at him and Vin blocked the blow which in the tracker's opinion was rather sluggish. For a few seconds, both men traded hard punches and Vin reeled a number of times but forced himself to concentrate. Finding an opening, he threw a succession of blows in the man's face, forcing McGillis to stagger back with each meeting of fist against the jaw. As McGillis struggled to return Vin's attack, the tracker kicked his knee from under him and sent him to the ground in a dusty heap.

McGillis swore as Vin dropped down on him, laying the man flat with punches he was now too disorientated to defend. It required little more than two or three blows before McGillis was out for the count. His large head flopped to the side as he fell unconscious, blood running from a shattered nose and various other bruises. Vin got to his feet quickly, feeling self-conscious about the people staring at him with fear and suspicion. Glancing over his shoulder, Vin saw McGillis's companion lying where he had died and decided the best course of action was to leave immediately.

Looking down at McGillis, Vin wiped the smear of blood running from the corner of his lip and stared at the man with hard eyes before growling in a voice full of murderous threat.

"Don't call me sweetheart."

*********

If it was any consolation to Vin Tanner, Alexandra Styles day was no less pleasant a day.

Most of the time she was quite contented with the practice she built in Four Corners. She knew she was a respected physician where she would have been considered a usurper had she attempted to breach the male-dominated walls of the present medical community. She accepted in this day and age, it would take time to accept a lady doctor, which was why she came to Four Corners in the first place. Here in the frontier, there was no time to be selective about where good medical expertise originated. A doctor was a doctor; colour and gender held no importance, just the skills. Alex had them and more. She knew she was a good surgeon. Nathan had told her she was one of the best he had seen, although Alex still felt he was a better diagnostic physician than she was.

Despite her pleasure to be practising, she could not help feeling slightly resentful she was pushed into these circumstances not willingly but because there was nowhere else she could have gone. With her skills, she should have been in a hospital somewhere, as a recognized surgeon of note. Instead, society decreed because of her gender and her colour, she would always be doomed to having to endure being second best, even though she knew she was not.

She arrived at the jailhouse shortly after Chris had sent for her, wondering what the man wanted and guessing it probably had to do with an injured prisoner. Although she tried hard to hide it from herself or anyone else, she was tired. It was already late afternoon and the sun was threatening to disappear behind the horizon at any moment. The day it followed had been one mundane session after another of minor cases, nothing to challenge her professionally and Alex wondered if all her days would be like this. She knew had she been a man, she would have been an eminent surgeon in a glamorous city hospital, not forced to carry out surgery in the bottom floor of her house without even the help of a nurse.

Pulling her coat around her because the temperature had not shaken the iciness of the morning frost, Alex decided a warm cup of cocoa in front of a fire was in order after a day like this. Hopefully, her business in the jailhouse would not take too long and she could return home to do just that. For some reason, she felt like doing nothing but curling up in a warm place to sit out the rest of the afternoon in relative comfort. With any luck, Vin should be back in town soon and he might feel inclined to join her.

"Thanks for coming, Alex," Chris said as she entered the plain office of the jailhouse. Chris sat behind the desk with his feet up as always, wearing that perpetual look of calm which indicated nothing ever got under his skin. It was infuriating just looking at him. Buck was sitting across the table and both men were indulging in a game of cards as they shared the duty of minding the jailhouse in the rotating roster shared by the seven.

"What's the problem?" Alex asked wearily as she set her bag down on a nearby chair.

"Got a prisoner," Chris answered putting down his cards, the game forgotten now business had to be taken care of. "He's been calling for a doctor."

"What about Nathan?" Alex inquired automatically as her gaze shifted in the direction of the narrow corridor leading to the cells.

"He's in there already," Buck replied. "He can't find nothing wrong but ol' Sid keeps saying he has this pain."

"He is a pain," Chris growled with uncharacteristic annoyance. "Nathan wanted you to have a look at him, see if you can tell what's wrong with him before we decide that he's just faking it and we can go back to ignoring him again." 

"Sounds like a plan," Alex said shortly, unashamed about hiding her own irritation at being summoned here. "I'll go take a look." 

"You okay?" Chris asked with concerned, noticing she did seem a little out of sorts if not a little exhausted. Nathan had been reluctant to call Alex because the healer knew she worked all day whether it was an office consultation or making house calls. While her presence had managed to give Nathan more time to spend with his law enforcement duties in Four Corners, Nathan knew the ease on his burden only added to her own.

"You do look kind of piqued." Buck agreed whose observation of the fairer sex was more expert than anyone else in the room.

"It's been a long day," she looked at both men, feeling a little guilty about taking out her bad mood on them both. "I'll be fine." She said with a little smile and then looked at Chris, "you're mellowing with marriage." 

"Now you're getting nasty." Chris frowned as she continued towards the cells. He saw Buck grinning at him and had to ask. "What?"

"She's right you know," Buck said as they started following her. "You are mellowing."

"Drop dead Buck." 

"See?" Buck declared with triumph in his voice as the two men disappeared down the length of the corridor that would bring them to cells in the jailhouse. "Before you got married, you would have just hit me."

While Alex had never been a victim of Sid Crawley herself, she knew several women in town who were traumatised by his activities. The man himself hardly seemed to be the type to cause so much outrage that husbands were demanding his head on a platter, while the more vehement types required a more symbolic gesture, none of which was legal in any state. Sid was a reedy man, painfully thin and ugly as sin. He was the kind who had no redeeming physical attributes and was apparently as stupid as he was a drunkard.

Unfortunately, when he was sober, he had a more salacious past time which was why he was inside this room.

"Okay Sid," Nathan said as Alex was given entry into the cell. "Tell the doctor what's wrong."

Nathan stood from the chair next to the prisoner's bed. Sid was lying in a foetal position, moaning in pain as Alex approached them.

"I need help." The man said through a series of moans

"Well," Alex sighed as she took up the chair Nathan had vacated for her. "What are his symptoms?" She asked the healer as Chris and Buck kept a watchful eye over the proceedings from the door to the cell.

"Says he has pains in the stomach," Nathan replied, not believing for an instant there was anything really wrong with Sid but was required in good conscience to seek a second opinion. After all, he did not know all the doctoring in the world and if this was caused by something he had not seen before, Nathan was unwilling to let Sid suffer for his mistake. "I've checked him out and there don't seem to be any reason for it."

"Gastro problems can be tricky," Alex had to admit as she turned to Sid who was fumbling under the blanket, appearing as if he were clutching his stomach. "All right Mr Crawley. Let's see what's wrong with you."

"I'm sick!" The man suddenly came to life and flung the blanket off him. He stood up before her, naked from the waist down as he exposed himself to her. Wearing a wide grin on his face that should not have been so pronounced considering how he was endowed, he presented himself to Alex, taking delight in her shocked expression.

"Oh, Lord Sid!" Nathan said completely mortified he had been stupid enough to allow Sid to commit another count of the crime which had his sorry behind to be thrown in jail in the first place.

"Now I done the doctor too!" Sid, who was better known as Sid the Flasher, chortled with victory at being able to continue his favourite past time even while he was inside this restrictive surroundings.

"Sid, you got no shame." Buck approached the man while Chris stood at the doorway, rubbing his forehead at the onset of the headache starting to form. "Pull your pants back up!"

Alex was not in the mood for this. She stood up and stared Sid directly in the face and said very coolly. "You are sick Mr Crawley," she said with a glacial tone to her voice. "Fortunately I do have a cure for your particular affliction."

All three lawmen stared at her with surprise. "You do?" Nathan exclaimed first because he had never heard of a treatment for the mental sickness that allowed a man to take such pride in this shocking behaviour.

"Yes," Alex nodded and reached for her doctor's bag. Opening the worn leather valise, she reached inside and produced an extremely formidable-looking scalpel and turned to Nathan and Buck. "Gentlemen, I'll need your help."

Sid's eyes widened as Buck and Nathan caught on quick to what she was intending. Before Sid could run both men had wrapped their arms around his and were holding him place as Alex turned to him again.

"You Mr Crawley, come under the classification of deviant. Do you want to know what the penalties for deviancy in this state are?" She stared at him through narrowed eyes.

"You can't hurt me!" Sid looked at Chris for help and saw the gunslinger shrugging his shoulders in indifference, enjoying Alex's display a great deal while trying to hide his amusement behind a sombre expression.

"Testicular removal." Alex retorted, wearing a little smile of satisfaction seeing his fear.

"What?" Sid stammered.

"She means, they cut your balls off Sid," Buck said helpfully.

If Sid was terrified before, having it explained to him so succinctly sent him into waves of panic. Alex put down the scalpel and started working on a syringe she had every intention of using on the man. He struggled even harder as both Nathan and Buck lost their efforts to keep themselves from succumbing to the humour of the situation. Even Chris was starting to find a great deal of difficulty in keeping a straight face.

"You have nothing to worry about Mr Crawley," Alex continued. "I have laudanum and when you wake up, you'll be as good as new. Naturally, there will be symptoms. You will gain a little weight and of course, there will be some pain, actually a lot of pain. However, that will subside eventually and you'll never have to worry about having these kinds of urges ever again. Although," she paused and offered him a perfectly wicked gleam as she said this. "I seriously doubt that you will ever rise to the occasion or be capable of having normal relations with members of the opposite sex but judging by your activities, I gather that was never a consideration anyway."

"You can't do this!" Sid started to scream. "You can't just take em!"

"Well Sid," Buck found himself adding. "You ain't doing much business with them anyhow. At least when the good doctor is done with you, you won't ever have to worry about being thrown in jail either."

Alex circled the trio and pressed the needle up against Sid's bony rear end. "So good of you to be ready for me." She declared and penetrated the skin with little or no delicacy.

Sid cried out in pain as the syringe emptied its contents into his body. He was still cursing and pleading deliverance from this nightmarish turn of events, seriously impeding the lawmen's attempts to curb their laughter. By the time the sedative did its work and Sid was completely unconscious, both Nathan and Buck had broken into loud guffaws. Alex collected her things almost dispassionately, deciding she really needed that cup of cocoa now.

"That ought to make him more manageable until the morning," Alex remarked as she started out the cell.

"We'll enjoy the quiet." Chris could not help grinning. He loved this woman's sense of humour. "You sure you're okay?" He inquired, genuinely concerned. "Vin should be back pretty soon."

She had to admit seeing the tracker would go a long way to easing her bad mood.

"I hope he had a better day than I did." Alex sighed and then added. "You are mellowing."

"Thanks." Chris returned with a look of mock offence as she left the jail. "And I was starting to like you too."

*********

"If you're not going to be any help, get out of my kitchen!"

Ezra Standish ducked as the pot came flying in his direction. It impacted against the wall of the kitchen inside the saloon and left a sizeable dent as plaster and mortar crumbled from the crater left behind. He stood up astonished at the fact it was actually thrown at him and stared at Inez Recillos in amazement more than anger as she glared at him with rage in her eyes that was completely unjustified in his opinion. He was completely mystified at what caused such a fiery explosion of anger when just moments ago, she had been preparing meals for the paying customers.

"Inez, is there something wrong?" The gambler ventured to ask, knowing even for her this was an unusual display of temper. Besides, the manner in which she was pacing up and down the length of the kitchen counter, with her hands on her hips as she considered his question was proof enough of some discourse.

"Why should there be anything wrong!" She barked. "I am in here doing everything for this place and if the paying customers are not getting their food quickly enough, well tell them I'm really sorry but today I do not care!"

"Inez if you need help..." Ezra said conceding the point she did do most things around here and felt somewhat guilty because she did look genuinely weary. Her normally glowing skin was almost grey and she had the appearance of someone who was on the verge of exhaustion. In fact, she had looked like this for some time now and Ezra felt ashamed because even if half the place belonged to Maude, he was still apart of it. It was just that Inez always had things under control as a manager and required very little input from him for the business to function.

"I don't need any help!" She shouted at him, with almost irrational fervour. "I can do this all by myself. I don't need you and anyone else. I CAN HANDLE THIS ON MY OWN! Now get out of my kitchen!" She fairly roared.

Ezra was not about to argue with her when she was in this state of mind. He paused long enough to give her a curious look before he did as she wished, leaving the room before she really got angry with him. As he stepped out onto the floor of the saloon, he noticed how quiet things were as a roomful of startled faces stared at him for an explanation, obviously having heard the altercation in the kitchen.

"What did you say to her?" Josiah Sanchez demanded when Ezra sat down at their table again, with the same stunned expression on his face as the rest of the patrons of the Standish saloon. After a moment, the room returned to normal and it was business as usual except among the lawmen who knew the lady best and recognised this was unusual behaviour from her. If anyone could be counted upon to keep their equilibrium in any situation, it was Inez.

"I assure you, Mr Sanchez," Ezra frowned, more worried about Inez that he would like the others to know. "I merely informed her the natives were becoming restless."

"I don't think anyone is gonna be complaining after hearing that." J.D. Dunne remarked as he threw a concerned glance in the direction of the kitchen. "I know I'm scared."

"She's been getting worse lately," Josiah pointed out, wondering what was bothering Inez these past few weeks. The lady always had a fiery temper but lately, it seemed like only the slightest provocation could ignite her fury. It was baffling.

"Maybe it's because of Buck," J.D. suggested.

"Could be," Josiah agreed, aware of how precarious things had been between the two since Chris's wedding. Buck and Inez were no longer on speaking terms since their one-time liaison and no matter what anyone tried to say to either to rectify the situation, it seemed nothing would breach the rift created between the two.

"You're the man of the cloth," Ezra remarked. "Perhaps you ought to try and see if the lady will talk to you about her troubles. Since no one else is having much luck with her."

"I'm not in that business any more," Josiah returned. Even though he on occasion, played the part of preacher, it was not a role he relished to any degree. While there was a time in his life where being a preacher was all he ever wanted, Josiah knew it was not meant to be. As much as he tried, he could not simply sit on the sidelines of life, allowing others to experience things while he sat in a position where he was required to dictate to them how they ought to live. It had taken a long time for him to come to terms with the realisation he could not be the kind of preacher he wanted and in doing so, came to the conclusion he could not live with the facade either.

"Do you ever wish you were?" J.D. inquired honestly interested since Josiah rarely spoke about his days in the ministry.

Josiah eased back into his chair and considered the question, one he had not thought of in quite some time.

"Sometimes." He admitted honestly. "I wonder what kind of a preacher I might have been. My father was a fire and brimstone kind and he believed the way to redeeming a soul was to scare them back to the flock. Me, I always have trouble turning the other cheek. It's a sad thing to know one cannot live up to one's dreams." 

"My mamma used to say if you give up your dreams, you die." J.D. pointed out, not liking to think Josiah would consider himself a failure simply because he could not let people get hurt while he was able to help them. As far as the young man was concerned, that only proved Josiah had risen above a standard he set for himself.

"She's right." Josiah agreed. "And so I've been waiting for it to happen but the crows have so far let me linger."

J.D. frowned, disliking even less that Josiah was waiting to die and decided this particular subject needed a quick change of direction. "What about you, Ezra?" He asked. "What was your dream?"

Ezra peered up from above his cards and noticed even Josiah paying close attention in anticipation of his answer. "I do not waste my time on such frivolous notions." 

"Oh come on," J.D. pressed, unable to believe someone as well educated and cultured, even though he was a cheat and a gambler, did not have some aspirations, no matter how far fetched it was. "Everybody's got dreams. Are you telling me when you were a kid, you had nothing you wanted to be when you grew up? Nothing at all?"

"Mr Dunne," Ezra shifted uncomfortably in his seat and giving J.D. a look that said plainly to leave the subject alone. "I never had the desire to be any more than what I was. I realize this may be a difficult concept for you to grasp but it is the truth."

"Whatever you say, Ezra," the young man retorted, exchanging a glance with Josiah indicating he did not believe a word Ezra was saying any more than Josiah did. However, it was obvious they were not going to pry it from Ezra any time soon. "When I was a kid, I wanted to be the best gunslinger, Rough Rider to ever roam the plains." 

"The joys of education through dime-store novels." Ezra rolled his eyes in sarcasm.

"Oh I know its dumb now," J.D. replied, never one to be easily offended. It was probably why he was so likeable by the other six men who had made themselves his unofficial guardians and protectors. "But I learned to ride because of it and it wasn't easy doing that in the city, I'll tell you. Still," J.D. said with no hint of regret in his voice, just youthful hope that was infectious even to jaded personalities like Ezra and Josiah, "I reckon I did okay. I got out of the city and I made it here. That's worth something to me."

"I reckon it is." Josiah agreed with a smile while Ezra continued to say nothing.

Dreams? Ezra Standish had no use for them and all they seemed to do was show just how much a failure one was when they did not come true.

*********

Billy Travis watched the full moon in the sky outside the window of his bedroom and felt a great deal of satisfaction knowing he was bringing happiness to the lives of all those he cared about. Most of all, he thought of how grand it would be when he woke up the next morning and told everyone how he was responsible for making all their dreams become a reality. As he prepared for bed, he envisioned how he would make the declaration in front of Chris and his ma and how thrilled they would be that their heart's desire had taken place because he made it happen.

Of course, it was still a mystery to him what he had done during that strange ceremony where Lily had chanted those odd words when for a moment, the air had become deathly cold. Not the familiar cold of winter, but the kind of iciness that chilled your heart. He remembered feeling a little scared as the small gust of wind blew across the objects he had brought to use in the ritual. How they trembled as she chanted the words. He even tried to ignore the strange vibration he felt when the ritual came to an end.

None of it mattered because Lily claimed they had done what they had set out to do. His wish had been granted and when the moon was at its highest tonight, it would happen. All he had to do was close his eyes and tomorrow, he would wake up and everything he had dreamed of for his ma and Chris and in particular, Julia would come to pass. He tried to imagine Julia's beautiful face as she told him how special he was and promised to wait until he got as big as Ezra so he could marry her.

Yes, tomorrow everything would be just perfect.

Chapter Two
Crossroads

CHRIS

He had a headache.

Chris Larabee did not know how he could have a headache when his last memory was of going to bed with his wife Mary. However as awareness returned to him with slow deliberation, other things impressed itself upon his memory and only added to the confusion that was filtering into his consciousness. First and foremost, he was not in the last place he remembered. Instead of finding himself in bed with his wife of a few weeks, Chris now found himself inside the confines of what appeared to be a Mexican tavern. That in itself was somewhat of a contradiction because Chris had not been able to cross the border for almost five years and could not for the life of him imagine what he could be doing here, particularly when he had no memory of making the journey.

As the headache started to fate, other things bombarded his psyche with recognition, the sound of music playing in the background and the laughing voices of individuals engaging in a great deal of merriment. Lifting his head from the countertop where his head was rested, Chris surveyed his surroundings, feeling a tiny sliver of familiarity that embedded itself in the mind like a splinter. A fat, greasy-looking man whose clothes were almost as filthy as the glasses he was attempting to clean with a rag stared at him from the other side of the counter. He regarded Chris with nothing more than a slight snort before turning to another customer while chewing a thick cigar.

Chris blinked and continued his examination of the place, taking stock of the customers in the bar, some hidden in the darkened corners of the rooms, hands groping soft round curves in the dark that left telltale evidence of what was happening in feminine titters. It was a seedy place, the kind one stopped at to be forgotten and certainly, no different from a hundred such waterholes that were scattered along the Mexican border. Most of the patrons were locals and the girls working in the establishment who sold more than drink with their alluring smiles and jet coloured hair, were seeking out potential candidates to buy them watered drinks.

He could not understand how he had come to be here as he rose from the barstool, almost knocking over the half-empty glass of tequila on the counter in front of him. He picked up the glass and took an experimental whiff of the liquid before turning away in revulsion. This was strong stuff, no wonder he had a headache. A part of him wondered if he was dreaming for the more he thought about it, the surer he became that he had been in bed with Mary at last recollection. How he had come to be in this place was a mystery he could not explain or fathom could take place without his knowledge at all. Not to mention, there was something about this place that was really bothering him and he could not for the life of him think what that was right now. The answer skirted on the edge of his awareness, close enough for him to feel that it was there but not enough to grasp. It was almost maddening.

"Darling, you can take me anywhere." He heard a familiar voice break the relative quiet of his ruminations. It was followed by a decidedly feminine voice making a proposition in Spanish with a tone of seduction that had the power to cross any language barrier.

Buck.

Chris thought as he whirled around and searched for Buck. Why what he not surprised that whenever he woke up and found himself disorientated and confused, Buck was usually at the bottom of it? He stepped away from the bar and strode forward, listening closely for the sound of his friend's voice, wondering what Buck had landed him into this time and more importantly, how he had managed it at all. Leaving the bar, his eyes spotted a sort of dance floor where a trio of musicians was playing a lively number with less enthusiasm than the song itself.

A few people were dancing to the music and he was not surprised to see Buck Wilmington in the centre of it all, locking embraces and tongues for that matter with a rather fetching Spanish beauty. Buck always did have a soft spot for sultry looking Latin women.

"Buck." Chris put his hand on Buck's shoulder and interrupted the dance from becoming some a little more carnal than ought to be on this very public place.

Buck looked over his shoulder and burst into a wide grin, the young lady he was with was not so charitable and kept trying to turn his head back to her lips to continue their passionate exchange. "Chris, I thought you're going to get some sleep upstairs."


"Upstairs?" Chris looked at Buck as if he was crazy. "What the hell are you talking about and how did you get me here?" Chris demanded, unimpressed that he had somehow become embroiled in one more of Buck's crazy stunts. He took his marriage vows very seriously and had left all this kind of tomcatting firmly in Buck's lap or the appendage his old friend used to do his thinking.

Buck's eyebrows knotted in confusion as his partner started kissing him again and driving the puzzlement from his attention for a few seconds. Chris frowned impatiently, allowing his friend enough time to break the kiss before Chris would start impressing his annoyance a little more acutely. As it was, he did not think he was in Four Corners any more, if the look of this place was anything to go by. Whether or not Mary knew he was here made no difference to Chris, he did not wish to be here especially when 'here' appeared to be Mexico and Chris had very good reasons for not being in Mexico, ever since...

Jesus Christ.

Chris froze and looked around the place and suddenly, the memory returned with the realization. He drifted away from Buck, his eyes studying the place in deeper scrutiny as the answer in the dark finally presented himself. What in God's name was he doing here? As he wandered through the establishment, nothing about it had changed. In fact, if a place could be frozen in time and memory than this seedy little bar on the edge of the border had achieved some measure of that accomplishment.

Chris' stomach knotted inside him as he moved through the place like a dreamer trapped in a nightmare from which he could not awake. This place had been one he had been trying to forget for the last five years It was from here that his life had turned a corner sharply and changed everything he was in a dance of fire. As Chris came to understand that he was in the very tavern that Buck had convinced him to stay the night that Sarah and Adam died, fury bubbled inside of him at the audacity of Buck to bring him back to this place. What the hell was Buck playing at? Chris did not know as he turned around and strode towards his friend, no make that ex-friend, he hoped Buck had a damn good explanation for bringing him here.

"Buck, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Chris grabbed Buck by the shoulder and practically tore him from the warm embrace of the Mexican senorita he was well on his way to bedding. Just like that night, Chris thought with seething anger.

"Hey, Chris!" Buck pulled away from him, staring at the gunslinger in rising annoyance at his behaviour while trying not to let the man's abrupt manner get to him. "You know exactly what I'm doing!" He hissed.

"Explain it to me." Chris glared at him in icy coldness.

"Explain what?" Buck retorted with exasperation, wondering what was wrong with his friend. "I told you I wanted to stay the night. If you don't want to say then go home. I can ride back on my own okay?"

"What?" Chris exclaimed, becoming so confused that his anger was giving way to puzzlement. "Buck, if this is one of your practical jokes, I ain't laughing. Now how the hell did you get me away from Four Corners without me knowing?"

Now it was Buck's turn to be confused as the big man stared back at Chris with similar bewilderment. "Four Corners? What are you talking about? Have you been dipping into some of that rotgut they got serving on the cheap? Chris, you know better than to dip your beak into that stuff."

Now Chris was really starting to get upset. "I ain't drunk and this little joke of yours has gone far enough. I don't appreciate being brought back to this place of all places Buck.. You know I don't go south ever since Sarah and Adam died."

Buck Wilmington stared at Chris blankly. "Chris, Sarah and Adam are fine. They're at home." His anger had faded away because he was now worried that there was really something wrong with Chris. All thoughts of the young lady behind him were forgotten as Buck saw Chris' face change from annoyance and anger to something he could not define.

"Buck, that's not funny." Chris swallowed, wondering how Buck of all people could be toying with him like this. If it were not for the years behind them, Chris would have already shot him for the insult. "This whole thing isn't funny. I don't know how you got me back here and I don't care but I'm heading out to Four Corners, you can stay here if you like and continue this little game of yours."

"Like hell you are." Buck grabbed his arm to stop him. "You're not going anywhere. You're sick in the head, Chris and I'm getting you home right now to Sarah."

"STOP SAYING THAT!" Chris exploded, wrenching free from Buck. "She's dead! She's been dead for five years. She and Adam! Why do you keep saying that they're alive?"

"Because she was fine this morning!" Buck answered sharply. "She was fine this morning when we left to get the horses! Don't you remember?"

Chris blinked and started to understand on some level what was happening, even though he could not fathom much else beyond that deduction. Suddenly, only one question burned in his mind and its answer would explain everything, as much as any of this could be, he supposed.

"Buck what year is this?"

Buck's eyes widened with the question and was about to offer another babble of confusion when he saw the hard expression on Chris' face and realized that he was serious being answered. "What its always been," Buck replied after a moment. "1875."

1875.

It was impossible. Chris struggled to find some evidence that this was apart of some elaborate joke on Buck's part but as he stared at the man's eyes, Chris knew without a doubt that Buck was completely serious about his answer and sincerely believed this unimaginable date was exactly what it was.

However, that notion soon eclipsed another thought that had the power to paralyze just as completely. If Buck was telling the truth and through some freak of nature which he could not even begin to explain, Chris was truly back in the year 1875 then he would have no idea of anything that had transpired in the last five years because none of it had happened.

And this was the night that Sarah and Adam would die.

*********

MARY


Although her new husband was difficult to rouse out of sleep before midday, Mary Larabee still found it impossible to sleep into those kinds of hours. Her body clock, possessing a will of its own would immediately awaken her at the predestined time. No matter how much she wished to linger alongside Chris' warmth and snuggle up to him for the rest of the morning, she would find herself getting restless after a few minutes and the need to get the day started would become overwhelming. As a mother, newspaper editor and now wife, Mary found there were hardly enough hours to fit all of it into her day and sometimes, she wondered if it would be simpler if she gave up one or two of these roles. Or at the very least, do as Chris suggested and get some help to do some of her household chores. Somehow, the idea of turning to someone else to manage her responsibilities was something that Mary could not abide.

As always, she woke up to the sun peeking through the curtains of her window. Mary rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she started to climb out of her bed, running through the list of things she had to do when suddenly, she noticed she was wearing a nightgown. For a moment, she paused at the sight of the white cotton dress over her body when she distinctively remembered discarding it last night. Considering the intensity of their sexual intimacy at the present time, it seemed somewhat redundant wearing something that would be stripped moments after she was alone with him. Not that this was a bad thing, Mary thought with a smile but somehow, she could not understand how she had come to wear this garment.

She supposed she must have put it on, she decided after a moment and promptly brushed away the thought since it mattered little whether or not she was dressed in her nightgown since she was getting up and would have to wear something anyway. Leaning over the tangle of sheets, she felt Chris' warm body still sleeping and found herself chuckling to hear that he snored slightly. Funny, she had not remembered him displaying this particular characteristic before today. Mary was about to press her lips against his in a gentle kiss when suddenly she made a most startling discovery that almost made her fall out of the bed.

It was not Chris lying there. It was Stephen.

For a moment, she merely stared in absolute shock at Stephen Travis who was slumbering most fitfully as if he had always been there. All she could do was remain trapped in place, her mind frozen with shock as her eyes took in the sight of him. He looked no different than the last time she had seen him, that terrible night she had gone visiting and left him alone with Billy. Her heart pounded in her chest as she moved to touch him, almost afraid that he would disappear if she made contact because he was an apparition that would disappear when she woke up from this dream.

It had to be a dream. It was the only explanation that Mary could wrap her mind around. She remained seated on the mattress, her legs folded as she stared at her husband and father of her child. Mary found herself melting in regret, knowing that he was gone and she would wake up from this dream soon enough but for the moment, allowed herself to feel the joy of seeing him again, even in this limited fashion.

Strange how many things returned to her after so many years, the way his chest would rise and fall as he slept, how he liked to remain on his side, with his feet sticking out from under the sheets cause he could never stand them being covered up. With a slight smile, she remembered how many midnight arguments that had caused during the winter when Mary would complain that his habit was keeping her toes in perpetual freezing. Her fingers touched his warm skin and gently ran the course of his side, moving over his ribs and waist in its downward descent.

It even felt the same and the discovery almost brought her to tears, even though her eyes were already glistening with emotion. She found herself snuggling next to him, her arms sliding over his body as she held him close to her for as long as this dream continued. Mary continued holding Stephen as the tears came and she was visited by memories of their life together. A life gone forever by one greedy landowner's bullet. God, how she had lived for him all her life. When he had died, Mary had thought she would go to, there were moments when she had actually considered ending it all because being without him was unimaginable. Then she would remember Billy and tell herself that her son was all that was left of Stephen. To die was to abandon Billy and in turn that would mean abandoning Stephen and Mary could never do that.

How could she forget the young man who used to show her that the nights can sparkle even when there was not a cloud in the sky? He who gave Mary her first corsage, who said it was perfectly all right that she wanted to be a journalist.

Everything she became from the day she ventured out into the world had Stephen's influence. She wondered what he would have thought about the woman that was left in the wake of his death. Mary liked to think he would have been proud of what she had managed to accomplish.

Suddenly he stirred under her touch, rubbing himself against her body as he started to come out of his sleep. Languidly, he turned around and met her gaze, staring into her blue-grey eyes with the same intensity that Mary marvelled by the acuity of this particular fantasy in her mind. He seemed so real, she thought as she smiled at him.

"Good morning." He whispered with a smile and met her lips with his own.

"Stephen," Mary replied, unable to keep the emotion from her voice as she reached for his cheek and caressed his cheek. "I love you so much. You'll never forget that will you?"

He noticed she was crying and immediately returned her sorrow-filled gaze with one of puzzlement. "Mary, darling what's wrong?" He asked, propping himself up on one elbow.

"I just miss you so much." She replied, deciding it was necessary to say all this before she awoke from this dream and he was lost to her again.

"I haven't gone anywhere." He pointed out, starting to think that his wife might have just roused herself from a nightmare and had not quite grasped the notion that she was awake. "I'm not going anywhere love." He enclosed her hand with his palm and started showing the delicate hand with soft kisses

"You will," she swallowed, astonished by how real all this felt. "You'll disappear one day and leave me alone to raise Billy myself."

"Mary." He said with a little more determination to convince her that he was very much alive. "Listen to me, I am alive and I'm not going anywhere." He responded. "I've got too much to do today to do something as inconvenient as dying. I've got to write a letter to dad and see about getting a proper sheriff in this town. That idiot we've got at the jailhouse is useless, not to mention the editorial I'm meant to write for the paper."

Mary stared at him and started to believe that he might be telling the truth. After all, if this was a dream then it was certainly the most realistic one she had ever had in her life. The smell of him, the way the light was shining in her eyes and the familiarity of the setting had a substance to it that was steeped in reality, not in the dream world. It was impossible though, she told herself defiantly, unable to believe that this could be real, no matter how much she might want it to be. Stephen had died because she had stood at his funeral wanting to die with him. The agony in her heart had been too acute and too horrible to be anything but real.

"God I think you're right." She managed to say and reacted by throwing her arms around him and pulling him to her in the warmest embrace she could manage. Mary could tell that he was surprised by the intensity of the embrace but said nothing about it, choosing instead to return it with equal fervour.

"Of course I am." He smiled when he parted from her. "Now come on Mrs Travis," he grinned climbing out of bed. "We've got work to do today."

"Yes," Mary nodded mutely, uncertain of anything at this moment and playing along until she could better understand what was going on. Although she had accepted that she was not having some vivid dream and the possibility that this might be real was gaining momentum, Mary still wanted to know how it could have happened. If Stephen was here, what has happened to the rest of her life? With a sinking feeling, she realized with almost shame that she had not thought about Chris. What has happened to Chris?

No sooner than the thought had crossed her mind, she heard the sound of gunfire exploding in the air. Both Stephen and Mary jumped together in shock at the sudden eruption of noise. It was hard to tell how many shots there were because it appeared more than one person was firing at the same time. Judging by the noises, it was not coming from too far away from the house.

"Get down!" Stephen ordered as he scrambled to the window.

Mary rolled off the bed and landed on the floor away from the window, taking shelter from the gunfire by its structure. "Stephen, be careful!" She called out. Now that she had him back again, she did not want to lose him to a stray bullet. She wondered why they were not in the house out of town and then recalled that they had talked about moving closer to town and the paper.

"I'm fine," Stephen replied, peering cautiously out the window at what was transpiring in the town below. Four Corners was never the safest place in the world and at times like this, he wondered what he was still doing here. Sense would dictate that he should take his family away from the Territory, back to the safety of the East where there was some semblance of law and order.

"Damn drunks," the newspaperman frowned. He watched the men riding up and down the street, drunk and rowdy, firing their guns in the air and generally scaring the hell out of people because they were so liquored up that they hardly knew what time of day it was, let alone held any sense. "It's those damn Texans that came off the trail yesterday," he told Mary, flinching at the sound of a breaking window somewhere too close for comfort. "I knew they were going to be trouble."

"Texans?" Mary's thought quickly, something about this whole scene having a measure of familiarity to it, she could not place for an instant as she lay cowering behind her bed.

Then it came to her. Texans! The ones who rode into town to get medical attention for their trail boss. The man who would die because Nathan Jackson had not been able to cure the gangrene that had rotted away his body beyond the ability of any healing that Nathan could administer. With a start, she realized that the antics of those men had begun on the morning of Nathan's lynching just like this. Eventually, the liquor would make them so dangerous that they would lay the blame for their leader's death on the healer who had tried to save him.

"Stephen," she had to ask. "Did Mr Hennessy get a new store clerk this week?"

"He did," Stephen looked over his shoulder at the strangeness of that request. "I ran into him yesterday, quiet enough fellow. Used to be a buffalo hunter, I think. I fail to see the relevance of the question." He retorted before another window was shattered somewhere nearby and drove the thought from his mind completely.

Mary took a deep breath, confirming her suspicions what day this was. If Vin Tanner was here and Nathan was about to be lynched sometime today, that could only mean one thing.

Chris Larabee was at this moment, riding into Four Corners.

*********

VIN

Vin Tanner did not know where the hell he was.

The last thing he remembered was sleeping it off after Alex had made it up to him most spectacularly for the embarrassment he had to endure in Sweet Water before waking up in the middle of nowhere. It was more the mystery of how he had arrived here at this point in time that concerned him more than where he actually was. Vin had woken up to the sound of Peso's familiar nickering, wondering what the hell his horse was doing in Alex's bedroom when he found himself in the folds of his bedroll with the stars above his head.

If this was not enough to alarm the most reasonable of men, when Vin took the time to examine those very stars, he saw that there appeared to some difference as to their positioning. While the difference was slight, it was enough to know that he was some distance from Four Corners. Considering that he had no idea how he had come to be where he was, let alone how he had been brought here without the slightest hint that he had been moved was quite disturbing. However, it was not just his sudden change of location that was so disconcerting. The weather was inordinately warm for winter and it was on further investigation of the terrain around him that Vin discovered that it was not all winter, it was early spring.

Even through the darkness, he could see traces of spring growth through the illumination of the campfire in the surrounding area. Vin could not understand what was happening. Judging by the campfire and the gear that he had strewn before the fire for use, it looked as if he had been out on the trail for some time. Yet he knew that only a short time ago, he was with Alex. He could still remember the heat of her body against his as he wrapped his arms around in the wake of their lovemaking. Her scent was still fresh in his nostrils.

Deciding that he was not going to stay around here to find out, the tracker decided to break camp. He quickly got to his feet and started packing his gear, trying to understand what lapse of memory could have possibly explained what had happened to him. Peso seemed oblivious to his confusion even though the sight of the horse was comforting to its owners in ways that could not be explained. At least, Peso being here meant that he was not completely mad.

It did not take Vin very long to have everything packed onto his saddle again, although he was still very confused. He did not recognize the terrain, at least not in the dark and felt very disorientated by the fact that he did not know where he was. For a man accustomed, to being able to find paths where none existed, being lost like this was very unsettling. After Vin had killed the fire of his campsite, he mounted Peso and started riding back towards the direction of Four Corners, using only the stars to guide him.

He had not ridden very far when he realized that even for a spring night, the weather was unusually warm. Vin came to the realization that the temperature was higher than what was normally experienced in the general area of Four Corners and that part of the territory. Also, as Peso progressed across the darkened landscape, Vin was able to tell that there was none of the rocky and hilly terrain of the terrain. Everything before and after them was flat. He had thought the Texas Panhandles was flatter than a tack but this place was not much better.

Vin recalled travelling terrain like this once before and was suddenly visited by a terrible idea that somehow he had been transported back to Texas. He could not even begin to imagine how this happened to him and was right now more focused with getting back to Four Corners so he could figure it out with the company of friends who might know what was going on. He doubted, however, that any explanation was ever going to be simple. Still, the heat did feel like Texas weather and that was a problem. In this state, he was still wanted for murder and Vin had no intention of facing that particular thorn in his side until he knew what had transpired tonight.

As Vin continued along the track, certain features of the land began to take on a familiar shape, sparking memories that he might have come across this way at some other point in time. Suddenly, Vin began to feel very uneasy the further away from the campsite he got until finally, in the distance, the deepening mystery presented itself in the form of a farmhouse, in the distance. Upon seeing the place did Vin realize where he was and that was enough to scare the hell out of him. For a moment, he remained mounted on the horse, staring into the abandoned home on the flat plain. At least he assumed it was abandoned because there was no light in the window and he heard no sound that animals might have been stabled in the barn.

That, of course, did not mean anything, Vin decided. On the night he had first stumbled across this place, he had not heard any sounds of life. This was most likely because Eli Joe had stolen what livestock that could be converted into money and killed the rest out of sheer spite. Vin felt his heart pound in his chest as some morbid fascination at how the homestead had fared since his last visit, prompted him to ride onto the property. History repeating itself, Vin thought to himself as he rode past the fence, finding the break that would take him past the boundary line. Back then, he had told himself that investigating was not a good idea and the same reminder rung true even now, and like before he ignored the advice.

If he had just kept going, he would never have found the body and in turn, would never have been foolish enough to take it back to Tuscosa in some misguided notion that the corpse, in fact, belonged to Eli Joe. He would be a free man, without mark or fear of the law and he would have been free to marry Alex, instead of keeping their relationship in a stalemate because he was a fugitive. Still, it was pointless to tear himself apart over things he could not change because he had taken the body back to Tuscosa and he was a fugitive.

Everything appeared to be the same, the quiet, the foreboding atmosphere that he was reaching a crossroads in his life and would eventually take the wrong turn. It was all there, thickening the air like something he could cut through with a knife. Despite himself, he felt a slight shudder of uneasiness ran down his spine and knew that it was nerves, deja vu and the madness that had thrust him here in this place where only a few hours ago, he had been sharing the bed of the woman he loved. He could not understand it any more than that strange circumstance and as Vin regarded the moon in the night sky, that looked almost red instead of its usual luminescent colour, he knew something was afoot that was beyond the explanation of man. The Indians used to tell him about the spirit world and how the dead sometimes walked among the living. At this moment, he could feel those spectral visitors most profoundly.

He neared the house and recalled that he had found the body lying face down in the water through for the horses, riddled with bullets. At the time, Vin had believed that one of Eli Joe's associates had done the outlaw in, having studied enough about the bounty he had sought to claim to learn that the man was not only devious but a notorious double-crosser. Unfortunately, even Vin had underestimated just how devious Eli Joe was capable of being when he concocted the trail to rid himself of his persistent hunter. There were moments when the tracker wondered how if he had known what lay ahead, would he have continued the chase?

Vin neared the house and saw the water through under the moonlight. From a distance, all he saw was its darkened shape and the moon bouncing off the reflection of the water. As he approached, he heard Peso pause a moment, as if the horse was deciding whether or not it ought to proceed.

"What is it, boy?" Vin asked, running his hand against the animal's flank, attempting to soothe the distress it was obviously feeling by its hesitation to continue. Only after a few seconds of gentle cajoling, Vin managed to induce Peso to continue and wondered what was it about this place that disturbed his horse so much. Peso had behaved with the same dislike during their last visit here.

"Don't worry," Vin muttered. "We'll be out of here soon enough."

The horse neighed in response, sounding almost relieved by the tone of his master's voice. Peso was normally a reliable animal; having endured trials that would make most horses buck and threw its rider off. However, Vin knew he had achieved a kinship with the gelding and he liked to think that Peso valued him just as deeply.

It was only until they were a few feet away from the water through, did Vin see what had upset Peso earlier on. The body lay in almost the exact position as the one Vin had come across all those years ago. For a moment, the tracker thought someone was playing an extremely nasty trick on him and if it were not for the fact that Eli Joe was dead, Vin would have almost believed that the outlaw was behind this. Feeling his breath hollow in his throat, Vin dismounted Peso even though baser instincts were telling him to leave. He did not need the trouble of another death being attributed to him. If they thought that he was a murderer with multiple deaths on his conscience, he could just forget about clearing his name right now or ever marrying Alex.

However, he was compelled to look at the victim lying prone in the water through, headfirst. As Vin approached it, he felt like he was seeing a replay of events that had transpired before. All this seemed too familiar and yet he knew it was impossible. From behind, the corpse looked almost identical. Bullet wounds in the back of the old, dark coat, the same light coloured pants with a patch on one leg and the boots with a strap missing on one side. It was as if someone had taken a picture of this scene from straight out of his mind and recreated it

Vin pulled the body backwards, grunting slightly at the bulk of it. Once it was upright, it fell towards Vin, spraying the tracker in water Vin knew contained blood. Jumping away in revulsion, the man's head lolled backwards, offering Vin a full view of his face.

"Jesus Christ," Vin exclaimed, knowing the visage of the man before him anywhere. It was impossible. Vin had seen them bury him! He had ridden almost three days back to Tuscosa with the corpse and it had been this man here! Yet there could be no mistake about the body or the man it had been.

It was Jess Kincaid.

*********

ALEX

"Doctor Styles." A very unfamiliar voice called.

Alexandra Styles stirred in her sleep and found that where she was doing it was not very comfortable. She raised her head from the hard surface and found herself lying against a desk. For a moment, she wondered if Vin was playing some kind of joke on her for making him walk through Sweet Water smelling like rose water, carrying material that was clearly for a lady's dress. However, as clarity returned to the young woman, she realized that she was not all in her office.

It looked for all intents and purposes like her office because she could see many of her personal items in the room, her father's books, some trinkets she had picked up when she was travelling with him across the globe and her medical degrees were framed on the wall. Whatever this place was, it definitely was her office.

"Doctor Styles." The voice repeated and Alex found herself staring wide-eyed at a rather matronly woman, wearing the unmistakable uniform of a nurse.

"Yes?" Alex answered almost meekly because she was very confused and when she was confused had learnt it was best to keep quiet until her bearings could be regained.

"Its almost time." The woman reminded, looking at Alex as if she had imparted some knowledge that the doctor should already know instead of looking bewildered. "You asked me to give you a reminder." She continued, hoping that this little bit of information would go some way to alleviating the blank expression on the young woman's face.

"Time for what?" Alex asked.

"Surgery, Doctor." The nurse was starting to get worry lines on her face as she regarded Alex as unfit to be let anywhere near a patient.

"Of course," Alex nodded, "I'm sorry." She quickly responded. "I'm just waking up."

That seemed to pacify her because she broke into an understanding smile. "They'll be expecting you in ten minutes." She answered before withdrawing from the room once again.

Alex watched her silhouette disappear through the frosted glass on her office door before releasing a sigh of relief at the woman's departure and content that she was finally alone. Once she had the room to herself, Alex jumped out of her chair and took a closer examination of where she was. As observed earlier, this was definitely her office even though every logical sense in Alex's body was telling her that this was impossible. Her last memory was of falling asleep in Vin's arms, not this fantasy that appeared frighteningly real around her. Alex moved to the window and looked outside. She wrestled with the notion that she might be dreaming upon seeing what lay beyond it.

However, this felt too real to be a dream, even if her mind had decreed that what she was experiencing was impossible. Outside, her office overlooked a park, more precisely a hospital park because patients were being pushed around by nurses, people in robes were wandering about enjoying the manicured beauty of the greenery around them. The day outside seemed idyllic as well and the heat of the sun told Alex that this was not winter in Four Corners but summer someplace else. In the distance, above the tree line, she could see buildings that ran off into the horizon, some that even towered over the fashionable double storied structures that were common to the town. Wherever this place was that she now found herself, it was a city.

Returning to her so-called desk to see if there was anything that might explain how this could be, Alex shifted through the papers and writing implements long enough to note that she was definitely in a hospital. There enough files of case histories and diagnostic sheets to indicate that if this reality was anything to go by, she had a great many patients. However, what caught her attention most was some hospital stationery that had her handwriting scribbled on it. The writing itself was incidental, for it was notes on a particular case of heart disease. It was the printing that was emblazoned across the sheet of paper that captured her interest the most.

BOSTON MERCY HOSPITAL

Boston?

This was Boston? Alex thought frantically and immediately went to the window to see for herself even though she had done so only a short time ago. With this knowledge in hand, Alex who had never been to the city before studied what was before her and knew that as insane as it must be, the city beyond this lush park could be Boston. Stunned, Alex decided she had to get out of this place, so that she could gather her thoughts. At the moment, she had no idea what was happening, beyond the fact that suddenly, she was a doctor in a big city hospital once who in about ten minutes would have to perform surgery.

Is that what she had always wanted?

When that realization hit her, Alex paused long enough to wonder if this was not indeed some dream she was having since it had granted her deepest wish. All her life this is what she had wished for, to be recognized as a doctor and to be treated with the respect every other physician was given without second thought because they were men. If she was to suspend her belief at the impossibility of the situation to actually consider that she might be exactly where she appeared to be then her entire life the last year would be meaningless. She would never have gone to Four Corners, she would never have started her practice there and she would have never have met Vin.

Vin Tanner would never have even known she existed.

If there was one thing that could spoil the sweetness of this whole dream or reality, whatever this was, it was knowing that the tracker was not in her life.

The whole idea that their lives had gone on divergent paths was enough to send genuine fear running through her in unrelenting waves. She could not live without him and the truth of the matter, she refused to. The months she shared with him, good times and bad were moments she would not trade for anything. It was surprising how quickly she was able to make this choice when once upon a time, her career would have meant everything to her. Still, she had no idea that any of this was real, so she was not inclined to make decisions on anything until she knew for certain what was going on.

Deciding she could not stay in this room indefinitely because someone was bound to come looking for her eventually, Alex chose to make an exit. She peered out the door through the crack of an opening and saw the corridor outside to be indicative of a busy city hospital. People were moving up and down the corridors, some were patients, others were doctors and nurses but the general atmosphere beyond this room was energetic, to say the least.

Alex stepped out into it gingerly, raising no suspicion of anyone as she blended into the main body of people moving away from her office. She glanced on the door and saw her name painted neatly in black against the glass which more or less confirmed that this was indeed her office.

ALEXANDRA STYLES
SURGEON

If this was a dream, it was a very convincing one, she frowned, wondering if there was anything else that could be thrown at her to make this fantasy any more appealing. She walked through the corridors, looking quite the tourist as she stared wide-eyed at everything while wrestling with the greater problem of how she had been transported across the country to find herself in this place. There was still a part of her that was convinced she was still in her house in Four Corners, asleep and this was nothing more than the product of an overactive imagination.

The detail was perfect if it was imagination for she could smell the acrid stench of hospital disinfectant in her nostrils as she wandered through the halls of the building, passing by wards and examination rooms.

"Doctor Styles!" The nurse that had informed her about the surgery she was required to perform called out to her across the crowded room.

Oh hell. Alex swore under her breath, remembering that this little scenario required her to play the part of a surgeon who was due in an operating theatre. As much as the idea intrigued her, Alex was in no condition to be cutting into anyone in her state of mind, real or imagined. She quickly made up an excuse in her head as she went to meet the woman.

"I'm sorry Nurse," Alex quickly apologized as the woman frowned at her in disapproval for not being where she was meant to be at this point. "I'm feeling a little under the weather, could you please have someone sit in for me?"

Disapproval quickly melted into concern as the elderly woman, whose name Alex did not even know, studied her with deep scrutiny upon being imparted this new information. "You do look rather pale." She agreed and then nodded firmly. "You let me take care of it Doctor Styles, I'm sure Doctor Harris will be happy to take over."

"Thank you." Alex turned to leave.

"Shall I have someone sent for a cab?" She asked before Alex could gain any distance. "I gather you will want to go home."

Home? Where the hell did she live? Alex turned to her, trying to hide her confusion once again. "Of course," she smiled faintly. "I would appreciate that."

"Well you get some rest and we will see you when you are feeling better." The woman said warmly and Alex only wished she had a nurse like that in Four Corners.

This was too strange, Alex shook her head as she started towards the main entrance of the building, really needing to be away from this place right now. She knew she was not crazy and she was starting to believe that this was no dream and everything before was real and not some trick, her mind was playing upon her. She waded through the bodies moving past her as she tried to leave, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by how real they felt as she brushed past them.

"Alex!" Someone called her name over the drone of voices.

Oh what now? Alex groaned as she tried to see who it was that was seeking her out now. For a place she had never been before, it seemed everyone and their dog knew where to find her.

Alex turned around to the voice and stopped short. Her eyes widened in absolute astonishment at the impossibility of what she was seeing but for once she really did not care. He looked exactly the same, wearing the favourite dark suit that he always wore no matter what the occasion. For a moment, Alex's heart stopped beating in her chest as he approached her, wearing a smile on his face that she had come to know so well. The emotion overtook Alex as he reached her and the only word that was able to escape her lips made no sense to him but all the world to her.

"Daddy."

*********

EZRA

The alarm clock that tore through the air with its shrill sound almost made Ezra Standish go for his gun and shoot it. Instead, he raised his head long enough to grab the object and fling it away from him, where it continued to make itself heard, despite the distance between itself and its master. Ezra swore, using words not at all proper for the southern gentleman that he was and staggered out of bed, trying to make it stop so he could go back to sleep. He stumbled out of his bed, feeling the effects of last night's libations most profoundly in his head and deciding that whoever had opted to put this whole device in his room was going to die when he got his hands on them.

Crossing the floor, still half asleep, Ezra paid no attention to his surroundings as he followed the sound of the relentless clock, ringing its purpose through the air and his sanity. It rested against the far corner of the room, lying face down but still determined to wake its master, no matter what the consequences to itself. Ezra bend over and picked up the metal object, still ringing so loudly that Ezra was tempted to go the more satisfying way of flinging it out of the window instead of doing the intelligent thing by turning it off.

Window? What window?

It was at this point that Ezra came to the realization that he did not have a window in his room above the saloon and really looked at where he was. What he saw made him forget the alarm clock completely as he dropped it from his hand and let it ring without registering the sound. Ezra stared in absolute amazement at his new surroundings, which was by far not the place he had retired to last night. For starters the room was bigger, a lot bigger. With polished wooden floor and expensive rugs covering parts of it, he saw expensive draperies and what he was certain were authentic Edwardian pieces of furniture furnishing the place. The windows were of the French variety, offering a picturesque view of the garden beyond. It was well tended, with hedges trimmed into shapes of animals by a gardener who was at this moment, doing some fine pruning.

"Good morning Mr Standish." The man waved to him as Ezra was standing by the window.

Ezra could manage nothing more than a confused wave in return as he continued his observations out of the man's view. The heat of the air told Ezra immediately where he was, or at least gave the gambler a general idea of where he might be. From the humidity of the air and the familiar heat that made the nightshirt he was wearing remain plastered to his back, he knew he was somewhere in the south, possibly New Orleans, perhaps even Charleston. Having come to this conclusion, the next logical step was trying to understand how this could even happen at all.

He knew that he had gone to bed in a saloon last night in Four Corners and other than one brief period of wakefulness where it was necessary to carry out some bodily functions, nothing unusual had taken place. However, it would appear that something was a miss because he was not only not anywhere in Four Corners, but he was dressed in a nightshirt where it was his habit to wear as little as possible to bed. As Ezra examined himself for any more surprises, he suddenly caught sight of a glint of gold on his left finger.

Upon closer examination, Ezra came to the frightening conclusion that the bauble on his finger, with its simple design and no stone setting of any kind, was a wedding ring. He had no idea what was worse, the fact that he had no idea how he had come to be here or the fact that the wearer of THE matching ring to the one he wore belonged to his wife. Maybe he was dreaming. Of course, Ezra nodded to himself, because that would explain everything, wouldn't it? He had finally been driven delirious by the cheap whiskey he had become accustomed to drinking since taking up residence in Four Corners.

Suddenly, the door swung open and a woman walked into the room far enough to pause at the doorway and meet his gaze, with her hands on her hips. "Really Ezra," she huffed as she walked towards him.

"Annabelle?" Ezra found himself exclaiming, remembering the girl from his youth.

She had been quite the beauty with dark auburn curls and sapphire coloured eyes whom had apparently grown up to become a striking young woman. When he had been left at one of the many relatives that Maude could find who would take him, for a time he and Annabelle had been the closest of friends. As close any seven years old could be of course. Even though she looked a world away from that child, he could recognize the gentle beauty of that face anywhere.

"Yes dear," she said paying more attention to the clock ringing at his feet to his startled expression. Leaning down, she picked up the offending object and promptly turned it off, silencing it for at least twenty four hours. "Now Ezra, I know you're all giddy from winning your latest case but its just one case. You're still have to go to work today."

"Work?" Ezra stammered.

"I know you want to relax after the verdict yesterday, but you are expected." She said planting a firm kiss on his cheek. "Now, I'll lay your clothes out while you go downstairs, Olive has breakfast waiting for you." She continued her rambling as she walked to a cupboard and pulled it open, revealing a wardrobe of clothes that appeared to be his. "Incidentally, you are very busy at work today in case Elizabeth asks. She's still determined to spend the day at the office with you. I'm sure she'll get over it in a few days, she just wants to see what her father does all day."

Father? He was a father?

Ezra tried to hide his shock but this was getting too much for him. He had no idea what was going on, what he was doing winning cases, he assumed that meant legal cases, which led him to the conclusion that Annabelle believed he was a lawyer and he apparently had a daughter named Elizabeth. He was still staring at her in a mixture of shock and disbelief at his whole situation when she huffed in annoyance at his still standing where he was, not making one move to follow any of her instructions.

"Ezra!" She grabbed an unfamiliar robe and pushed it into his hands. "Get going! You're going to be late!"

Ezra could find nothing to say to counter her statement before she was ushering him towards the door. The gambler could not shake his confounded state of mind even when he found himself outside the bedroom in the hall. Unconsciously, he slipped on the robe she had thrust into his hands, trying to decide what madness was responsible for any of this. This was J.D.'s fault, he thought to himself as he walked down the hallway of what appeared to be a rather expensive house. If J.D. had not started talking about secret dreams, Ezra would not be having the dream he was at this moment Although, he supposed with a faint smile, it was as close to detail as what he used to imagine as a child, even to having Annabelle as his wife.

When he had been a child, inflicted upon the relatives Maude Standish had conned into taking him, Ezra had dreamed of one thing amidst their cruel jibes and long-held beliefs that he would turn out just as nefarious as his mother. He had endured their dislike, knowing full well that he was tolerated simply because the freakish nature of things had allowed him to be their kin. They raised him out of familial obligation even though they were certain he would end up to be a grifter like his mother. Ezra remembered bearing their insults, vowing to himself that one day, he would show them all. For as long as he could remember, he wanted to be someone who had made good and was respected.

He supposed this qualified. A wife, a child, a home that looked quite impressive and career as a lawyer, which was in a roundabout way as close to an honest profession as he could get. Ezra wandered down the halls, moving through this home that was supposed to be his, unable to deny that he had impeccable taste if it was indeed it was his place of residence. It was the kind of abode he always dreamed of having, perfection in every domestic aspect of it, from the paintings on the wall to the sunny disposition of the rooms he passed.

Making his way down the stairs, Ezra admired the marble finish of the floor he was descending and even more aware of the voices that were emanating from the rooms below. It was almost with caution that he stepped onto the main floor of the house, letting his gaze sweep across the front hall and the adjoining parlour. As he continued his journey to the dining room, he paused at a table with a number of silver framed pictures on it. It was almost with fascination that he saw himself within those pictures, looking nothing like himself, gambler, scoundrel or con man. Instead, the man Annabelle knew as her husband was surprisingly conservative, resembling the very picture of respectability.

The picture revealed Mr and Mrs Ezra Standish on their wedding day. Annabelle seemed ethereal in her wedding gown while the Ezra in the picture seemed similarly happy.

"Papa!" A little girl with dark blond hair bounded out of the adjoining room and ran straight into him, wrapping her arms around him.

The only thing Ezra could say was a muted hello.

If the child noticed his discomfiture, she did not make mention of it. Instead, she launched into a lengthy diatribe regarding what she wanted to do today, that someone named Davey had thrown up all over himself and when could she come with him to work because she could help him in the office. Ezra hardly heard a word she said because he was too busy trying to keep himself from hyperventilating at the idea that he had a child and one who had the same hair as Maude and stared at him in total adoration with his own eyes. Looking at her though, Ezra knew without a doubt that she was his because there was almost nothing of Annabelle in her face and everything of him.

"Olive's made you breakfast papa!" She exclaimed, taking his hand and towing towards the dining room. Ezra was too fascinated by the child to stop her from pulling him along as they made progress to the next room.

The dining room was like the rest of the house, a picture perfect depiction of what his dream home would be like. Inviting aromas of toast and hot coffee filtered through the air as Elizabeth tugged him to the head of the table.

"Good morning Mr Standish." Olive, a portly Creole greeted as she continued to feed the baby in its high chair next to the table. The child had some purplish substance smeared over much of his face and gurgled in amusement each time Olive tried unsuccessfully to induce him to eat. "He's a little testy today." She frowned at the child. "He just doesn't like his fruit."

"Who does?" Ezra mused as he sat down, wishing the coffee in front of him was anything but that. At the moment, the only thing that would soothe the gambler's frantic state of mind was a stiff drink. The respectable lawyer and family man Ezra Standish probably did not engage in such behaviour so the gambler that he was would just have to tolerate the steaming cup of coffee laid before him.

Elizabeth took her place next to him while the child, no his son, Ezra reminded himself and had to pause at the notion. He leaned closer and looked at the happy face smiling at Olive's attempts to feed it.

Despite himself, even Ezra's jaded self was somewhat touched by the simplistic joy in the child's face as his blue eyes twinkled with familiarity Ezra knew so well. His son looked very much like Maude and Ezra felt a sudden surge of interest in wanting to know where his mother was placed in this supposedly idyllic and impossible reality he had stumbled into. Ezra was still unprepared to believe that this was anything more than just the dream it had to be, just as he had yet to decide whether or not it was a good or a bad one.

If this was not a dream, despite every instinct that told him that at this moment, he was not in any dreamscape but a world as real and tangible as any he had walked through, was he meant to stay in this life? He could not even imagine himself being a father to these children, even though the smile that Elizabeth flashed him whenever she looked up long enough from her breakfast was very inviting. Through all this, Ezra had not even thought of Julia and he felt guilty of that since any future that even remotely resembled this would have to involve her. Where was she while he was living this perfect existence?

The truth was, even if he wanted to find her, Ezra knew that he would have a difficult time of it. Julia had come to Four Corners under false pretences, the reason for which he could not prise from her no matter how close they were. He understood that there would always be a part of her that he could not breach, a secret place where she kept things that were too private even for him to know.

He knew that her name was not Pemberton and she did not come from Pennsylvania. All he knew was that she had fled wherever she did come from and would not wish to be found if she even knew who he was.

Somehow, Ezra had to find her.

*********

JULIA

Where Julia Pemberton happened to be at this moment, could quite literally be described as a personal hell.

It was somewhat ironic when one thought of how she had wished for this for so long. However, thinking something and actually have it in possession were two different things altogether and at this moment, that point had never been driven home more acutely. How she had come to be here, Julia had no idea but the fact of it was, she was here and no matter how many times she may remind herself that this was a terrible nightmare, sent to torment her for past sins, she knew that it was tragically real.

Julia was at a funeral.

She was dressed in black, in clothes she did not recognize, sitting on the front row of seat in the cemetery near the church she had visited so many times in her youth, bored out of her mind while some sermonizing moron told the congregation how they ought to live. She sat there alone, well not exactly alone even though she might as well be, surrounded by relatives who had no more feeling for her than she had for them. At first, she had merely gaped at them, wondering how she had come to be in her present circumstances and after finally deducing that this was no dream and that she was where she was, remembered why she disliked them so.

All stared at her with open resentment, dislike oozing out of every orifice in their body as if it were something that could be seen, like a mist drifting through the air. Clad in black, they seemed as if they were sitting in judgement of her but in truth, Julia knew now and always did that they craved everything that she was. The rest of the chairs were taken up by people she also knew from her past in Philadelphia, all of which from the select circle of highborn elite that dominate the society pages. She was born into their ilk even though from the moment she had learnt to tell the difference, Julia had abhorred everything that they were.

The minister droned his words, also the pastor whom had been present for her christening, so she was told, speaking in-depth of a man none of them knew better than Julia herself. She had thought that after the circumstances that had forced her to flee her home in the dead of night, his power to touch her heart would have little or no effect. However, knowing that he was dead and gone, had coaxed a well of sorrow to spring forth from nowhere to grip her soul with unbelievable anguish. Sitting here by herself, Julia wanted to weep but she was too proud to let any of her family see that she was in pain. Julia had never been able to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry, not even when she was a child and was suffering from a skinned knee.

More than anything, she wished Ezra was here because only Ezra could offer her the solace that she needed to feel something close to feeling better. She knew she was sure as hell not going to get any sympathy from the cretins who had despised her all her life. Julia knew that much of their hostility came from her father's attention to her. She had been the only child of a woman he had never stopped loving until the day he died. When she was old enough to tell the difference, Julia had wondered whether that was the only reason that her father had loved her so much, because she was a reminder. It was half the reason why she had been driven to find love and devotion from men who wanted her for herself, not because she was the living memory of someone else.

In her wanton affection with her numerous lovers, they had all craved her flesh but at least it was her flesh they wanted, not her mother's. Her relatives, be they uncles and aunts or cousins, had despised her for her freedom, knowing that with a slight pout of her lips or a whispered promise, she could charm any man that came into her sights. The ones she actively set out to acquire, never had a chance of resistance. Her father had probably heard the stories but he had never spoken a word to her about it. He had loved her unconditionally, probably ignoring everything that was ever said because she was his Julia.

Despite herself, Julia felt the tears that had been content to glisten in her eyes rolled down her cheek as the pastor ended his sermon and the mourners began filing towards the coffin, preparing to make their final farewell to the person lying within its polished wood confines. Julia ignored the family, seeing no wish to join them. She would make her own goodbyes to her father as she grappled with why she was forced to endure this dream, even though it had every substance of being something that was mired in reality not the imagination of her night's slumber. Of course, if this was real then Julia had to admit to being unsurprised by the fact that her father might have passed on following her abrupt departure from his life.

She had been so angry when she had chosen to leave home. All her life she had wanted to determine her own fate and when he had arranged the marriage that would see her the wife of Roderick Packard, it was more than she could stand. She felt betrayed that he could do such a thing to her, marry her off to someone she could barely stomach, let alone conceive of marrying, to play breeding cow in his golden stable. How could papa not see why she had hated it so much?

Because she never told him.

Following her arrival in Four Corners, much of Julia's life had changed. She had been given freedom on a scale that was totally alien to her. Not only was she free to determine her own fate, but she had also been allowed the chance to be the person she always wanted to be, without having to worry about what convention dictated.

Julia had learnt a whole new way of existing that did not require her to be beautiful or to seduce men to get what she wanted. She had met a man who knew more about the con than she ever would and saw right through her and hardly cared that she was scheming wanton with an ego the size of the Grand Canyon, which more or less matched his own. Julia loved Ezra and she did know where he was in this reality, but she had to find him.

Julia remained where she was seated, until the service was over and the mourners had departed, making their way back to the house where no doubt a wake was being held for the passing of her father. Only then, did she rise from her seat and walk slowly towards the coffin, surrounded by flowers and wreaths. Julia could not see inside the coffin and it was just as well, she did not think she could stand seeing Donald Avery dead. Although her anger at him had not withered away, she still loved him and she missed him. 

She paused in front of the wooden coffin of polished wood and wiped the tears from her eyes before she ran her fingers along its smooth surface as if this was as good as she could get to touching him herself. The wood was cold as it was winter in Philadelphia and the snow was not far from falling down on this cemetery with its pristine lawns and well-tended gravestones.

"Miss Avery." A voice called out behind her.

Julia jumped with surprise as the sudden eruption of sound startled her to no end. Turning around, she found herself facing the man that had caused all this trouble. Roderick Packard was standing before him in all his coarse glory, trying to look sympathetic when all she could see was his blatant lust for her.

It made her skin crawl.

"Roderick Packard," Julia whispered.

"You have heard of me," he smiled, pulling his lips back in a smile. "I knew your father."

"I know." Julia responded, wondering how much worse this nightmare was going to get. Was it not bad enough that she was forced to witness her father's demise. Did she have to endure this too?

"With your father's passing, you seem to have come into a great deal of money," Packard continued, unaware that everything he said made her wanted to run for her life because she absolutely despised him near her. "Before his demise, he spoke to me at length about how you might manage it, if he should become ill."

"I see." Julia replied, wondering where this was going.

"You are aware that you have inherited his entire estate, do you not?"

Julia blinked. She knew that he had a great deal of money and that it should be rightfully hers, instead of falling under the control of the man she would marry. Julia had never concerned herself with how much that actually was. "I know papa was wealthy and that he left me a trust." She lied because she had no wish to discuss such things with Packard.

"Madam," Packard said with genuine surprise. "Your father was a little more than wealthy, he has died leaving you in excess 2 million dollars."

*********

BUCK

Unlike the rest of his friends, Buck Wilmington had awoken the next morning finding nothing unusual about his world or his perception of it. As always, he rarely found himself alone when he woke most mornings, usually having company in the sheets of a bed that was not in the residence of his room at the lodging house. Whoever she might be, Buck would usually make an encore performance and of course tell her that she had stolen his heart and undoubtedly he would be back for more at a later date. Whether or not she was wise to this well-practised verse was never known and Buck would come away from the encounter feeling quite satisfied at himself at another challenged met and hurdled.

Of course, it was not always that way for him. There were disappointments. No man could be truly irresistible all the time and there were moments where his animal magnetism simply failed for some unfathomable reason. On those occasions, Buck took a philosophical slant on things, accepting that even he had to know the sting of rejection or else he would tire quickly of his immeasurable success.

Still despite himself, he had to admit feeling some chagrin at his most recent failure. Actually it could hardly be considered a failure since he actually bedded the woman but her reaction the following morning could hardly be deemed a success either.

Buck Wilmington did not know how to perceive his relationship with Inez Rosillios these days. He loved her and considered her to be the only female he would consider settling down with but for some reason that was completely at a loss for him to understand or explain, she wanted nothing to do with him. Lately, she had become so irritable whenever he was around, Buck was glad he was armed whenever he walked into the saloon and no matter what he said to her, nothing could assuage her anger at him.

On this particular morning, Buck had left the bedroom of his latest dalliance, a young lady named Judith Winton and headed for the Standish Tavern for a spot of breakfast that is if Inez decided not to have his guts for garters yet again.

Despite the tension between himself and the sultry barmaid and manager, Buck was determined not to give up on her. Well he could not really, he was in love with the woman, just as he knew without doubt or complicity that she was in love with him. Pride was all that stood in their way although in Buck's case he knew that his libido had quite a bit to do with it as well.

As he made his way down the street, he noticed a number of heads turning in his direction. Women were throwing him faint smiles, their eyes meeting his with come hither looks that made Buck wonder if his animal magnetism was putting in some extra effort today. The men remain unaware of any strange goings-on, even though some of the women offering these suggestive gazes at Buck were their wives, sisters or sweethearts. Buck shrugged off the attention, his ego big was enough to become accustomed to this sort of attention.

Entering the saloon, he found that it was mostly deserted at this time of the morning, except for the few friends who like himself, was partial to Inez's excellent culinary skills. Vin, Ezra and J.D. were both dining on a meal of sausages and eggs. The aroma of the food wafted through the air and almost carried Buck the rest of the way inside the saloon. His stomach rumbled in response and Buck hoped Inez had more of what was on those plates left, although the way she felt about him these days, it was likely that she might hurl it in his face rather than serve it to him.

He wished she would just tell him what was wrong so that they could at least talk about it. He knew that part of her resistance to settling down with him had to do with his excessive philandering ways. Still, didn't she know those other women meant nothing to him? A few months ago, he had been ready to settle down with her, to court her properly. Hell, he had even made up a speech about how good they would be together if she could only trust him. Unfortunately, Inez had not yielded even though she did assure him that he needed more time and she was willing to wait for him until he was ready to settle down. At the time, Buck had been relieved, considering himself most fortunate that he had evaded capture by a woman while at the same time, having the only one he cared about informing him that she was willing to wait.

Later on, however, he wondered if things had really turned out so favourably for Buck, as he believed. Sure she would wait. Yet that could also mean that if someone one like Jeremy Seacourt appeared out of the woodwork, she could be lost to him because a rival had slipped past him and reached her first, a rival who was not afraid to commit or to be faithful to her. On the nights when he was not in the company of a lady, that was enough to keep Buck awake.

"Morning all," Buck sat down at the table shared by the others and looked around for Inez, whose presence could be heard by the sounds coming from the kitchen. He could smell the inviting aroma of hot food coming from the room and felt another pang of hunger.

"Good morning Mr Wilmington, I trust you slept well." Ezra greeted politely as ever.

"If at all." J.D. quipped. "How did your big night go?" The young man asked before taking a mouthful of food. J.D. was perfectly aware of Buck's typical boasting the night before that he had a pre-arranged rendezvous with the fair Miss Winton.

"The lady was duly impressed," he grinned as he pulled up a chair and sat at their table. "As always." He added after a moment's pause.

Both Vin and Ezra rolled their eyes in a mixture of disgust and worn resignation. The bragging was just another part of the morning after ritual performed by Buck Wilmington following a heated evening with a young woman who had no idea that as she was now conquered, would soon be discarded. It was still the source of amazement to the two that some irate father had yet to march their very own Casanova to the altar at gunpoint with the number of women that Buck seemed to bed. Four Corners was not that big a town and yet Buck had managed to cut a swathe through all of them. At the rate Buck was going, he was either going to have to start recycling his past loves or move to another town.

"Spare me the details, Mr Wilmington. I am trying to finish my repast with something of an appetite." Ezra retorted and picked up his cup of coffee and savoured a nice long taste of the beverage.

"You're just jealous." Buck laughed, unrepentant about anything. "Now that you're an attached man."

"Nothing wrong with being beholding to one woman," Vin replied, more than happy about the relationship he had with Alex.

"Not for me," Buck said showing no signs of envy about the happiness that both Ezra and Vin shared with the women in their lives, even though he did feel a slight twinge of it.

Suddenly, Inez appeared from the kitchen and met his gaze. Buck braced himself to get yelled at or worse. However, instead of giving that cold look of contempt that had been her trademark whenever he was in the room, proceeded by a violent outburst where something was thrown at him, Inez gave him a little smile. "Hello, Buck." She greeted politely.

Buck almost leapt to his feet upon hearing the warmth in her voice when she spoke, feeling as if he were a dog that had just been thrown scraps. It was to his utter chagrin how this woman could make him feel like a teenager again with a simple smile. Still, she was being nice to him, which had to be an improvement from the present state of their relationship, which bordered on open warfare in its intensity.

"Hi Inez." He said trying to hide the surprise from his voice.

"Buck, may I see you in the kitchen a moment?" She threw that smile at him again and this time it oozed so much innocence, he just knew that she was ready to talk to him again. Perhaps now, he could get to the bottom of what was wrong with her.

"Sure." He answered, frowning a little at the expression being worn by Ezra, Vin and J.D.

They were grinning at him, content with the knowledge that he was just as susceptible to the beck and call of one female as the rest of them. All three knew that Buck's Achilles heel was the sultry Mexican barmaid who could have him running after her like some wet behind the ears kid. Inez had always been the one woman who had no illusions as to what Buck was and no amount of charm could change her perception of him. In the beginning, Buck had told them all that he would conquer Inez if it were the last thing he did. Every member of the seven knew, although they did not voice it at the time, just who it was that really got conquered.

For it was not Inez.

Inez slipped back into the privacy of the kitchen, assuming he would follower her. Buck knew there was never any question of that not happening. He utterly adored the woman and any chance of mending the fences between them both was an opportunity he was not about to squander. Turning back to his companions, he noted their restrained sniggers and blatant smirking at his situation and glared at them with narrowed eyes.

"Shut up." Buck hissed quietly as he left them and went to join Inez in the kitchen.

He decided he did not care what the others thought as he strode in eagerly after her. He knew that Inez was afraid of what they had done the night of Chris' bachelor party. Even though every memory of it was imprinted on his mind and revisited several times daily, Buck had come to realize that for her it was a step she had taken too early and was running scared of the consequences. Her reaction to him the next day was proof enough of that. If she would just hear him out, Buck could explain to Inez that he was willing to wait for as long as it took her to acclimatize herself to the idea that they had crossed a pivotal line in their relationship.

However, no sooner than he had walked through the doors of the kitchen, did he suddenly feel her arms around his neck. There was a moment of clarity where he realized that this was not a gesture of attack before she pulled him forward to meet his lips in a kiss of passion. Buck was so astonished by this sudden show of affection, again; he could do nothing but stand there as her mouth devoured his. He felt her tongue probing past his teeth, forcing its way in really before inflicting upon him a kiss of fiery intensity and passion. Buck could only think one thing as his mind started to register what was happening as a good thing.

Damn does she blow hot and cold!

Still what was happening did require explanation no matter how pleasant it was and Buck did not want to find himself in the same position as he did the night after they had first made love. Inez had always been more to him than just a night's fancy. He loved her and he needed to understand what was happening between them yet again. He tried to stop her; not an easy thing to do considering that her kisses tended to make him weak in the knees. He felt one hand running through his hair and another pulling at the buttons on his shirt and knew that if he wanted to talk, the time to do it was NOW.

"Inez," he wrenched himself free from her, stilly dizzy from her kisses and the taste of her in his mouth. "What's going on?"

She looked at him with nothing but sheer lust in her eyes and did not answer immediately. Instead she pulled him to her and covered his face in soft kisses.

"What. .do. .you. .want .to .happen?" She whispered, speaking each word through an interval of a kiss.

God, he was weakening. "Inez!" He pushed her away again. "You've been madder than hell at me for the past few weeks, now you're coming on strong and don't get me wrong here, I like it. Hell I like a lot but I ain't going down this road with you again and find out it means nothing the next morning."

"Come on Buck," she moved back towards him, snaking around her arms around his neck as she started kissing the skin exposed under his unbuttoned shirt. "You know I love you." She said huskily, her lips were working his way down his chest.

Buck pulled her up before she got any further because as much as he wanted her and he wanted her a great deal, he needed to understand what was happening here.

"As much as I want to get down to this, I want to know what's changed between us. One minute, you don't want nothing to do with me and then you're all over me."

Inez paused and her lips curled into a little smile. "Well," she said almost coquettishly as she stepped back from him, a great deal more restrained even though the desire in her eyes was still apparent. "I suppose I should tell you. I've been keeping it a secret because I was not sure what I wanted to do about this. Then I woke up this morning and everything was clear to me, you are the one that I want Buck, I have always wanted you. Since the first moment, I saw you but I was too proud and too stubborn to admit it. I did not want to end up like the others but now I cannot deny anything, so I chose to face up to what I feel for you. I love you Buck Wilmington. I love you and I want to be with you. I'm tired of waiting for you to come to me. I don't have time for patience any more, I don't have time for anything, so I come to you because I know you feel the same way."

"Alright," he started to smile, liking what he had heard. "I'm glad you know that because I do love you too and I do want you." He said taking a step towards her. He placed his arms on her shoulders and delighted at the silkiness of her skin. They slid into each other's arms and it felt so right that Buck wondered how he could have ever endured being without her.

"By the way," he asked, as he felt her lips resuming their assault against his neck. "What was the big secret?"

"Nothing of consequence," she mumbled, completely uninterested in what he was asking and more concerned with laving his neck with her wet and seductive tongue. "I'm just a little pregnant."

*********

JD


J.D. Dunne found nothing unusual when he walked down the street of Four Corners that morning. Everything was it always was in the town at this time of day, businesses were only an hour or two into trading and the peak shopping period had yet to take place. There were not many people in the street, although the concentration would grow as the day progressed. J.D. liked taking a stroll down the boardwalk during this time. It was quiet and the day ahead held the promise of what could be. Even though the air felt brisk with winter chill, he liked how it felt when he drew breath for the cold invigorated him like nothing did. It kept him poised and alert, ready for trouble and whatever adventure that came riding into town.

As he made his progress across town, a journey that would eventually culminate in his arrival at the jailhouse, the few people who were on the street, greeted him as he walked by, sometimes offering him the respect deserving of the badge he wore and sometimes not. However, the greetings were always friendly and J.D. decided he liked the friendly more than the respect. Once upon a time, it would have meant the world to him to be shown respect by anyone who came across him and he sought it out like a prize to be won instead of a life-defining trait of survival. The men who had taken him under their wing and made it possible for him to see out his first week in the West without ending up in a pine box had taught him a great deal about respect.

J.D. loved nothing more than being counted in the number of the seven because these were all men that he respected and who had earned his high favour with such effortless ability. Sometimes, he felt like a raw interloper amongst them.

He had come from the east searching dreams of glory and thanks to them, he had not gotten his head blown off in the first hour. Each and every one of them looked out for him and that was quite something for a young man who had no one in the world who would care if he died, to know. From the awesome manner of Chris Larabee who walked through town with such imposing presence, it was impossible not to feel somewhat awed or intimidated, depending on whether or not you were an enemy. He knew he idolized Chris somewhat and felt embarrassed when others noticed it but there were times J.D. wanted to be so much like Chris that it often slipped his mind what the gunslinger had been forced to endure to become what he was.

However, if he idolized Chris then he considered Buck Wilmington something else entirely. Although theirs was an odd relationship, with Buck sometimes taking on a role that was more than just based on friendship but almost bordered on paternal affection. J.D. did not remember his father and he often wished he had brothers but if he had known either, J.D. liked to think they would have been like Buck. Buck looked out for him and kept him safe. While J.D. used to hate that in the beginning, assuming it was because Buck did not think he was good enough, the young man eventually realized that Buck was just trying to keep him alive, allowing him time to learn the lessons that would help him become his own man.

J.D. appreciated all their efforts and he had learnt a lot in the two years that he had spent in Four Corners. When he had left the city, he was partly driven by his grandiose dreams of fame as well as the loneliness that followed the death of his mother. She had given him everything in life and when her own ended, J.D. realized just terrible it was to be without her. He had tried to stick it out in the small crack in the wall that used to be their home until the overpowering silence became too much for him and he had to get out and find something else. Selling the place and everything in it had paid for his ticket out west, his saddle and left him enough travelling money for the journey ahead.

When J.D. had left the bustle of the East, he had hardly looked behind him.

Upon arriving at the jailhouse, he found it to be empty. This was hardly surprising because Chris was seldom seen before noon now that he was married, while Buck was probably still in the bed of the latest in the seeming inexhaustible bevy of women whose company he kept. Buck would either crawl out of bed afternoon or when the lady's husband returned, whichever came first.

Ezra was most likely at the saloon, pretending to supervise Inez when everyone and his dog knew that it was Inez who really ran the place and Ezra was simply the frontman. Still, J.D. thought the gambler was exceedingly good at appearing to be in charge and he did bring in high rollers that wanted to cross swords with his formidable gambling skills.

Josiah was an early riser but the former preacher spent his mornings trying to restore his church. Although the project had taken the man almost two years now and did look marginally better than the collection of ruins it was initially, there was still a lot of work to be done and no one could begrudge him for doing it. Somehow, J.D. felt it was important that the church be put back together. It seemed like an important part of a community was missing when everyone could not get together and sing songs to God. While he was not religious, he did remember his mother often saying such things.

If anyone appeared at the jailhouse to accompany him during the watch this morning, it would probably be either Vin Tanner or Nathan Jackson. If Nathan did not show then he probably had patients to deal with but Vin would definitely turn up. Although Nathan and Doctor Styles shared the duties regarding the physical health of all Four Corners' residents, sometimes, even that shared responsibility did not seem enough because there was so much to do. There was always someone breaking a leg, having a baby or getting a fever somewhere in town. J.D. was surprised that sometimes both healers were not running after patients 24 hours a day.

Of all the seven, it was Vin that J.D. could most identify with because they were almost the same age. Well, okay, Vin was older and he seemed to know his way around things better than most people his age. However, when Vin spoke to J.D. it was never in an instructive sort of way. The tracker had the knack of letting people know things without sounding condescending, more like he was making a passing comment about the weather or something equally trivial not handing out advice that could save your life.

As he waited for the others to make their eventual arrival, he started tidying up the office for something to do, feeling some measure of annoyance at the slovenly state of things. This mess had probably accumulated during Buck's shift, J.D. decided. There were only two things that Buck liked to do and none of them involved keeping the jailhouse tidy. As the one appointed to wear the Silver Star on his breast, J.D. took his duties as sheriff very seriously, even though in truth it was Chris who ought to be wearing the badge instead of him. Still, Chris had never confessed any desire for such a thing and J.D. was smart enough to adhere to Chris' judgement in all things.

Once the office was returned to a somewhat tolerable state, J.D. parked himself in the chair and rummaged through the folded up wanted poster that had come through the mail. There was no one really dangerous out there at the moment, just a couple of horse thieves and a list of dates of when the judge would be in town to hold court sessions. J.D. put up the posters on the board and filed the rest away dutifully, knowing that none of the others would bother otherwise.

The hours dragged on slowly and J.D. soon occupied his time by playing solitaire on his desk. Before he knew it, the sun was peaking in the sky and it was noon.
J.D. reached into his coat to pull out a folded novel he had purchased to idle the time away when he came across something else entirely. Pulling out the chain, he found Buck's pocket watch attached to the end of it. For a moment, the young man could not at all fathom what he was doing with the object Buck Wilmington claimed to be a family heirloom. He searched his memory and knew that Buck had not given to him.

Suddenly, J.D. felt the urge to go find the man.

Leaving the office, he had no idea where to look but thought he might try the saloon. Ezra was always abreast of things, perhaps he would know with whom Buck had most likely spent the night. For some reason, there was this gnawing at the back of J.D.'s mind that was getting a great deal worse at the discovery of Buck's watch. As he walked down the street, the town had come alive with the frantic activity of the afternoon. People were out in force now, going about their business and carrying out their day to day errands.

He saw Mary Travis, no; he quickly corrected himself, Mary Larabee, further up the street and hastened his pace to catch up with the woman. She was walking to her back facing him, unaware that he was behind her when J.D. called out. "Mrs Larabee!"

Mary paused and looked over her shoulder at whoever had called her name. Her eyes searched the faces before her and then rested on his. When she met his gaze, her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. The anger in her face was apparent and almost took J.D. back by the intensity of it. He had never seen Mary give him a look like that before. She reserved such cold glares for men who tried to harm Billy Travis and anyone who made mention of the fact that she was a woman when trying to get the best of her. He wondered whether or not he ought to approach her in light of the storm cloud that was on her face now. Unfortunately, it was too late to avoid it since he had shouted her name across the street and she had seen him.

He advanced almost cautiously and found himself stopping a suitable distance from her. For some reason, he could feel the rage emanating from her life a tangible force he could see and touch. "Mrs Larabee.." he started to speak.

"What do you want?" She demanded, her voice was sharp with barely concealed rage.

J.D. was mystified by her hostility and could not understand why she was so upset at him. "Ma'am, are you mad at me or something?"

"Mad at you?" She hissed and without saying anything further struck him across the jaw. She almost flattened him with the delivery of the blow and J.D. wondered how a willowy blond could possess so much strength. J.D. staggered backwards but remained on his feet.

"Mrs Larabee?" J.D. exclaimed holding his jaw, completely astonished as he stared at her. "What did you do that for?"

"You murder my husband and have the audacity to ask me if I'm mad at you, to say nothing of the fact that you're even speaking to me!" She roared.

Murder her husband? Murder Chris? "Me?" J.D. stammered. "I didn't do anything to Chris!"

"Of course not!" She screamed at him, her anger starting to give way for grief. "You did it the way it's always done in the west, the way one man can kill another and get away with it! You didn't give him much choice but to call you out after what you did."

This was too much for J.D. Had the entire world gone insane? People were looking at the commotion that he and Mary were causing, saying nothing to refute the words that she was saying. He did not kill Chris! Chris was still alive! Why did Mary think that he was not? "What I did?" He retorted. "I didn't do anything!" He tried desperately to convince her but Mary was crying openly now, tears running down her pink cheeks.

"After what you did to Vin, you knew that Chris was going to come after you! You turned his best friend in for five hundred pieces of silver, let him hang for a crime he did not even commit and you expected Chris to do nothing less than what he did?"

This was a nightmare. That was the only explanation that J.D. could wrap his mind around. He was going to wake up from this and find out that it was a terrible dream. However, as he stared in the blue-grey eyes that usually held so much warmth, he could not imagine this to be a dream. The pain in her eyes was too powerful to be anything but real. She really did believe that he had killed Chris Larabee and worse of all, she thought him capable of turning Vin Tanner over to the authorities in Tuscosa for the $500 reward. How could she believe that of him?

"I swear to you," he persisted. "I didn't do anything to Chris!"

"Stay away from me!" She exploded in outrage, unable to believe that he was saying this to her when the entire town knew the whole ugly truth. He had stood in the street and gunned her husband down in a gunfight, in front of his wife and stepson all because he wanted to be the best there was. She never forgot the look of sorrow in Chris' face as he died, knowing that he was powerless to stop J.D.'s rampage or the fact that he would be the cause of her burying another husband.

"Mrs. Larabee, please!" J.D. was starting to get frantic. He knew Mary could not be right about anything she was claiming because he had gone to bed last night, remembering his day with the same men she had accused him of killing. Yet as he looked at the eyes staring at him, regarding him not with friendly smiles but a silent accusation, he started to realize that they believed it. If they believed it then he must be mad because he did not kill anyone, let alone Chris Larabee.

"This ain't true! It can't be!" He shouted at her, not knowing what else to do. Suddenly, a thought came to him. "Ask Buck! Buck will tell you this ain't true!"

"Buck's dead!" Mary declared, unable to decide what this little murderer was playing at with his innocence. "He killed himself because of you!"

*********

NATHAN

Nathan could only stare at the man.

His breath constricted in his chest with such overwhelming fear that for a moment, the healer thought the organ might explode. He stood there trembling; unable to fathom how this could be and knew from every detail of what he was seeing this before him was no fantasy. It was real. In the dreams, he could never smell the familiar scent of cotton in the air, or the stench that reeked from the slave quarters being so close to the outhouses provided for them. The place had always smelled like a nest and until now, Nathan had never realized just how much like animals that they were. The clarity of everything about him did not have the misty vagueness of the dream world. This, however, he had come to be here was as real as his so-called life ever got.

He saw Nicholas Serfonteine walking up and down the patio of the house where the family was having lunch in the distance and almost buckled down and retched there and then. The terror as he saw the master and he knew Serfonteine was still the master by the way the man strutted across the floor like he was invulnerable, was too much for Nathan to endure. Nicholas with his mother Clarissa and young sister Violet, sitting down to breakfast oblivious to the fact beyond the perfect gardens of their mansion, was misery on a scale no white man could ever conceive.

Nathan knew that it was impossible that he was here again because his last memory was of falling asleep in his bed at the infirmary, thinking of all the things that he had to do the next day. He could remember the patients he had to see, the ailments that required healing, not to mention the studying he had to do that night for the accreditation exam he would soon have to sit for. All of that was fresh in his mind and further supported that this was some kind of a nightmare. Yet, he was here, almost fifteen years in the past from where he had been where his name was not Nathan Jackson but Ajax.

The realization was enough to make his stomach turn again because enduring this the first time round had been agonizing enough in itself, let alone having to tolerate it all this again. He looked around the collection of ramshackle structures, aware that these squalid hovels were what passed for the living quarters of Avalon's human livestock. Other slaves were going about their business, scattering to perform the duties for the master, believing that this life of servitude and bondage was the best that they could ever dream of. The overseers too were never far away. Even as he stood watching the house, he could see them on the edge of his perception, lingering close enough to keep an eye on all of them.

Serfonteine was oblivious to Nathan, as the plantation owner sat at his table with its silver cutlery and enjoyed the morning meal with his mother and sisters. Nathan supposed the man would have little notice for just another slave in his stable, even if occasionally Nathan was granted the proud work of being his fencing partner. There was no reason to suspect that in a number of years from now, Ajax would become a healer and take his head in a duel to the death. Nathan decided he better keep that information to himself for the moment. He had no doubt that he was here, out of time and place. Nathan did not know why this had happened but the good Lord seldom saw fit to let anything happen that did not have a purpose. Just because he did not feel inclined to tell Nathan what that plan might be, did not mean it was any less important or could be questioned.

Nathan did not know how long he was standing there when he felt the sharp pain of a baton striking the back of his legs with such force; it drove him to his knees. Nathan fell forward, uttering a small cry of pain as he landed on the grainy soil of the ground beneath him. He stopped himself from falling flat on his face by landing on his hands. The pain was intense but left no lasting damage and Nathan pushed away the urge to defend himself because that much of Nathan's life here remained in memory.

"Get a move on, Ajax!" The foreman, a pig of man named Elijah Masterson stood over him, daring him to fight because men like him, derived pleasure from torture and sadistic brutality. They were the perfect overseers because they could indulge their sick desires on defenseless people who had fewer rights than an animal. Nathan remembered the lessons of this past well enough to know that if he retaliated, Masterson would have him beaten or killed. In this place, he was a nigger slave and a white man's property.

Nathan's hands crumpled into fists as he controlled his rage. Forcing the anger away into a singular place where it would cause himself no more harm, Nathan slowly got to his feet, ignoring the pain that would subside soon enough. He met Masterson's gaze and dropped his head, in the humiliating gesture of subservience that he had done all his life until the age of seventeen when forces beyond his control had made his gamble on a desperate bid for freedom.

"Yes Sir," he said uttering the words and felt the bile surface in his throat.

"Master wants you to go with Zeus into town." Masterson retorted, slightly disappointed that the young man had not put up a fight. He did not like the slave known as Ajax for some reason, even though the master favoured the boy for his ability to be of some sport when Serfonteine needed the fencing practice.

Masterson had seen others like Ajax in the past, uppity niggers who forgot their place and had to be reminded with painful and life long lessons. Masterson longed to teach Ajax one of those lessons because the backbone of his pride had to be broken now, or he would troublesome forever.

Ajax was always too smart because he did not look at Masterson like he was a slave, lower that dog piss in the scheme of things. He looked at the overseer like he was a man and that was something Masterson could not endure, no matter what. Still, Ajax was wise enough not to get out of place and so Masterson was powerless to act for he was young and a prime piece of horseflesh that the master would not endure wasting unless for a very good reason.

"Yes Sir," Nathan nodded and tried to remember which direction to go towards the stable, where Zeus was no doubt waiting for him while he saddled the horses and wagon. He started walking nevertheless, remembering how Masterson had felt about him back then. The man always tried to provoke him into doing something stupid and Nathan had always held back, just to rob him of the pleasure. Until of course the night Rebecca died and then Masterson had his wish when Nathan was strung up and whipped.

As he drew away from the slave quarters, he stepped from a dismal world of shanties to the glamour of well kept gardens and a white polished marble where people could dine while watching their slaves get whipped to death, he thought ruefully. The walk gave Nathan time to think about what was happening to him. He knew that this was some parody of reality because there was too much detail for it to be a dream. There were trees where he remembered it, cracks in the foundation of the house that he not noticed before but did now all told him that this place was tangible and it existed as something with as much substance as his life in Four Corners. Nathan did not know this had come to pass and frankly, he did not care about the specifics, he was more concerned how he would survive this nightmare again.

He examined his hands and saw it devoid of scars that had been acquired since the years he had left this place. His hands were always working hands as only a slave's could be but without even seeing himself in the mirror, Nathan knew that he was seventeen years old again. He considered his options at the possibility of having to live his life over again, altering key events so that things would transpire smoothly. No, he did not like that idea. Besides, there was nothing really he wanted to change the way things happened. The same tragedies and grief would be felt no matter how much alteration could be done. Besides, there was something strangely sacrilegious about changing the way things happened, no matter how much he might have wished it.

"Nathan." A soft voice hissed as he came across the row of peach trees flanking the walk towards the stable.

Nathan froze, knowing of only one person who would call him that in this place. He saw her through the leaves of the tree and felt his heart swell in utter joy at the one bright thing that had kept him going throughout his tenure as Nicholas Serfonteine's property. The healer skirted the edge of the trees and hurried to join the young girl that was waiting for him on the other side. She broke into that familiar smile of brilliance at the sight of him and was somewhat puzzled when Nathan picked her up and twirled her around at the sheer joy of seeing her.

"Becky!" Nathan almost wept from the pleasure of holding his sister in her arms again. He had forgotten about her in all his ruminations about the place and scolded himself as the fool he was. How could he haveforgotten Rebecca?

"Nathan?" She squealed. "What's the matter with you? Put me down!"

Nathan set her down and could not get over the idea that she was here. He supposed that if he was indeed transported back through time somehow, he should have guessed that she would be here as well. After all, she was as much a part of his life during this time as Serfonteine and the plantation called Avalon. At the moment, however, Rebecca was looking at him quizzically, in the way that told him that she thought he was crazy. Rebecca who would never have the distinction of having a surname appeared as she did the last time he'd seen her, beautiful and pristine. At the age of fourteen, she was already a beauty and even in the plain cotton dress she wore, it was easy to see how much she could be desired by someone who was used to indulging every desire. Involuntarily, the image of the bruised and violated Rebecca surfaced in his mind long enough for Nathan to crush it out of existence. He would not think of her like that, not when she was still alive.

"Nothing," Nathan said feeling the emotion rise out of his heart at the sight of her, unable to deny just how good it felt to see her again. He embraced her again, much to her consternation before parting from her. "I'm just happy to see you, that's all." He smiled.

"You only saw me this morning." She pointed out, still somewhat confused by his behaviour. "Anyway, I heard you were going to town with Zeus."

"Masterson said I had to go," he answered, wondering how come it could be so easy to have a conversation with her as if the past fifteen years had never been. It was with sadness that he realized that it was fifteen years she had not known. It struck him just how much like Alexandra Styles she resembled, particularly now that he had seen Rebecca again and could make the comparison. No wonder, he had become so attached to the lady doctor when he had first laid eyes on her. Even her manner was so much like his Becky's.

"I'll see you tonight then," she replied. "The master wants me to work at the house today."

A memory flared in his mind then. It was so powerful that it had the force of a physical entity. Ringing through his mind, screaming alarms in every dark corner, Nathan felt the same constriction of fear in his throat as he realized that everything that had so far transpired today was a recreation of a particular day in his life. From his being sent on an errand that would see him gone all day, to Becky telling him that she would be working in the main house again. Suddenly, he understood why he had been sent back to this particular day of all days. The irony of it was, he had always dreamed to be here and when it had come, Nathan had almost let it slipped past him without knowing how significant the day was.

Tonight Nicholas Serfonteine would come to the slave quarters Nathan shared with Becky, while he was still away in town with Zeus and rape his fourteen-year-old sister, beating her so badly she would die in his arms, with her blood all over him. The image of her returned to him with such fierce intensity that Nathan could not speak for a moment as he tried to come to grips with what was to be done about it. He was here in the place he had dreamed of being all his life, with the foreknowledge of events to come that could save her. Nathan had always wondered what difference it would have made if he had just known what was in store for his sister when he left for town that day.

"Becky," he looked around and made certain that no one was in sight, particularly Masterson who had a habit of watching him like a hawk. "Do you trust me?" He asked, holding her hands and staring into her brown eyes so that she would understand that he was absolutely serious.

"You're my brother stupid," she chuckled, wondering why he was behaving so strangely. "Of course I trust you."

"Good," he swallowed, knowing how forbidden it was to say what he was thinking at this moment but knew of no other way to make her understand. "We've got to escape."

She stared at him as if he was mad and he could hardly fault her for coming to that conclusion. Escape was the most feared and anticipated word in the slave vocabulary. It could mean death or hope, it depended on the perspective.

However, one thing it did hold common for all those who knew what it meant, was the extreme danger of even thinking such a thing, let alone speaking it out loud. "Nathan are you out of your head?" She hissed, horrified that they were even having this conversation. Her eyes looked about her, hoping no one else had heard what he had just said.

"I know it's dangerous Becky," Nathan continued, his gaze also darting about furtively, seeking out anyone that might overhear them and kill this flight for freedom before it could even begin. "But we've got to go and we've got to now. Please don't ask me to explain. We have to leave this place."

"And go where?" She demanded, unable to imagine the enormity of what he was saying. The dream of freedom was something far away, unattainable. Most of them dreamed of it but none dared to take the chance at trying to acquire it. As strong and resolved as she was, Rebecca was not sure she wanted to make the attempt herself. Failure would mean death or worse.

Nathan thought quickly and it came to him with surprising ease. He had escaped once already so he knew it could be done. "We've got to get to Kentucky." He answered the words tumbling from his lips as if inspired by some hidden well of hope he never believed he had. His escape remained clear in his mind for most parts, except for the last day or so when he had been delirious with fever. He had kept going out of sheer determination, pushed on by a fervor that was almost as intense as this desire to see Rebecca saved. If he could get her out of the south, Josiah would help her and she would have the chance of life, she would never have had if she remained here. "There's a preacher on his way through Kentucky, he'll be there in less than two days. We need to find him because he'll help us."

"Help us to do what?" The disbelief was still apparent in her voice. She could not believe this was coming from her normally dependant brother who had been incapable of making a rash decision since the day that he was born. She was the dreamer not him. Rebecca was used to such foolishness coming from her when it was late at night and they both sat up and watched the star overhead. However, hearing it from Nathan was disconcerting.

"Help us to get to the north," Nathan explained, not wishing to discuss this any further. "There's a war coming Becky and it will change everything we know but we can't be here when it arrives."

"Nathan. ." She wanted to argue but he silenced her with a look.

"Becky," he said softly and hoped she could understand how necessary this was. "We cannot be here tonight because the master is coming for you."

Rebecca opened her mouth to ask how he knew that but decided she did not want to know. Suddenly, all those long searching looks the master threw in her direction whenever she was serving in the house return to her mind. She remembered the way his hand would brush against hers as she served him his meals, how his eyes would travel up and down her body like she were some piece of meat for the taking. She was not naive and she was aware that the Master often took slave lovers, sometimes willingly, most of the times no. However, if he came for her, there would be no choice for her to make, just obedience and inside, she knew she could not let him touch her. Slowly but surely, she began to understand what her brother was implying.

"Alright Nathan," she nodded in complete understanding now. "What do we do?"

*********

INEZ


"Inez Recillos, are you going to spend all day in bed?" The shrill voice tore through her mind and made Inez sit up abruptly in her bed. She wondered who had interrupted the privacy of her bedroom and hoped they had better have a damn good reason for rousing her out of her sleep. Considering the night she had had, tossing and turning in the sheets as she tried to make the decisions that would affect the rest of her life, being woken up so abruptly was likely to get someone killed or worse.

Inez rolled around in her bed, not quite awake as she turned to regard whoever was standing before her while at the same time, trying to remember where it was she kept that gun she had come to Four Corners with. Although the instances were rare, there were occasions when drunks who had lodgings in the saloon would stumble into her bedroom by mistake. Most were willing to leave without causing further inconvenience but some were a little more persistent and required her gun to make their departure.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my room?" She rubbed her eyes as she turned to her visitor.

"I am your mother and this is my house!" The woman grumbled staring at her, hands on her hips.

Inez blinked and indeed found herself standing in front of her mother, Paloma Rosillios. Appearing as she did the last time that Inez had returned home her village, Paloma was a striking woman with high cheekbones and jet black hair that was always worn in a tight bun. She regarded Inez sternly, looking at her daughter in very much the same manner as she had done the day Inez and her sister Calla had sneaked out of the house one night when they were supposed to be in bed. Both girls had wanted to watch the party at Don Paulo's house even though they were strictly forbidden not to.

"Mama?" Inez exclaimed, never believing she could be so happy to see her mother, especially now. Without any hesitation, Inez jumped out of her bed and embraced her mother hard, without pausing to take a look at where she was or questioning how this miracle could have happened. She did not care; her mother was here at a time when Inez needed her guidance the most. Only Paloma could advise her now.

"Mama, I'm so happy to see you." Inez gushed as she held onto the familiar warmth of the woman whose soothing words could make everything alright.

"I suppose you think that this is going to make me forget that you are late to work at the Don's house." Paloma said with the same terseness to her voice, although there was warmth in her face as she spoke the words and she was returning the embrace.

Inez pulled away and stared at her mother. "What are you talking about mama?" She asked and then suddenly took a close look at her surroundings to discover that she was not in her room above the Standish Tavern. In fact, she was nowhere at Four Corners at all. She was in her room at her home in her village. How could this be? Her mind started to cloud with bewilderment because she knew where this place was and she did not think she was dreaming but she was here and this was her mother before her.

"Mama, I'm home aren't I?" She asked, her brow knitting in confusion as she took closer examination of things around her. Although the memory was almost two years behind her, the room in which she had grown up had not changed. It was never a lavish room but in it, Inez had grown from a girl into woman thanks to Paloma's assertions that a woman could do anything she wished, if she only put her mind to it. Her bed, the quilt she and Calla had made, even to the dolls whose painted faced was faded by time as was the faint pattern of the dress it wore.

"Yes?" Paloma started to look at her with concern, wondering if her daughter was not suffering from some kind of fever that was leaving her mind in such an addled state. "Inez, are you feeling alright?"

Inez did not answer and went to the window of her bedroom. Leaning outside, she saw the village below the hill where her house was situated and in the further distance was Don Paulo's mansion, just as she remembered it. She could see the people moving up and down the dirt streets, old men sitting on under the shade of some awnings, chattering excitedly about the goings-on in town while further away from the main centre of the village, she could spy chicken being fed within their enclosure. A group of women were stripping the husks of corn, working their way through a large pile before placing the end product in a wicker basket. Inez knew what it was like to be hunched over doing that kind of work and the pile looked like several hours' work. Even further out of town, she could see the goats being kept in their own enclosures. The sights and smells of her village filtered into her mind and offered her comfort the way nothing had been able to do during the past few days.

"I'm fine mama," Inez smiled, looking at her with tears glistening in her eyes. She was home even if she could not understand how she had come to be here or how long she would be able to remain with the present situation between herself and the senior Don Paulo for the death of his son. "I'm just very happy to be here."

"You have not been anywhere else," Paloma stated.

"Of course I have," Inez said confused. "I had to leave when I rejected Don Paulo's son." She reminded her mother.

Paloma stared at her blankly, unable to fathom about what her daughter was trying to say. "Inez, you are making me worried. You know the Don's son is married to that nice girl from Ciudad Juarez a year ago. What is this nonsense you are talking about?"

Inez looked at her mother with similar astonishment, unable to understand how this could be. She knew what had happened to her during the past two years as much as she remembered that she had been forced to flee her home after Paulo's son had tried to force her. Was it just her imagination, what she had been forced to endure in her flight? Inez knew that all that she had experienced following her departure from here was real.

"Mama, I left two years ago." She replied. "I do not know how I came to be here but I do know that I was forced to go because of the Don's son."

"Inez," Paloma came forward and embraced her child, as if will alone could drive away this dementia that had taken over the mind of her willful daughter. "You have been nowhere in two years. You have continued to remain in this house and you still work at the Don's house. His son and his wife Maria live in the city now, he only comes back here during the holidays."

If she had not gone anywhere and had been here all that time what about her memories of Four Corners. Her friendship with Mary Travis and Alexandra Styles? Her responsibilities to Ezra as the manager of his mother's business and his partner, to say nothing about the friendships she had made there with Vin and J.D. and last but not the least, Buck? Those memories were not fantasy. They were clearer to her than what she was seeing now and started to wonder if her present condition was responsible for bringing about this dream where her life had gone on without the turmoil of the junior Don Paulo's obsession of her. If it had not been for him, Inez would have most likely remained in the village with her family and would have probably have found some nice man with whom she could spend her life with. She would have been a farmer's wife and have endured nothing but a safe and honest existence. She would never have been in the situation she was now, unmarried and alone, with no man in her life. No man that she could trust with any degree of confidence. Yet, that had not changed the fact that she had still given herself to Buck in a night of passion that she did not regret but had not considered the ramifications of which until it was too late.

However, if this before her was reality then what she remembered was also wiped clean. Is that not what she had wanted for the longest time? Particularly in the last few weeks, when she had made the discovery that had been unimaginable to even consider? She had prayed that a solution had come and for the longest time, while she was lost in the conundrum of indecision, believed that no hope existed for the sin she had committed. However, it appeared that her prayer to God had been fulfilled and he had sent his forgiveness in this reality where she had never known Buck Wilmington.

Which meant she was no longer pregnant.

Her hands flew instinctively to her abdomen, much to the growing apprehension of her mother who was starting to believe that she had gone quite mad. Inez tried to see if she could feel any signs of the baby that had caused so much turmoil in her life during the past six weeks. When she had first suspected that she might be with child, Inez had almost refused to believe it. She could not believe the unfairness of it all! She had abstained for so long, kept herself away from him and in one night, albeit one wonderful night, he had gotten her with child. If she was not so utterly horrified by the whole situation and the moral dilemma it would cause, she would have shot him.

"Inez, I think you should get back into bed," Paloma said, ushering Inez back to her bed. "I don't think you are well."

Unfortunately, Inez was in no position to disagree.

"I'll send Calla to go to work in your place," Paloma replied as Inez slipped into the covers, trying to decide whether being she liked the idea that she was no longer with Buck Wilmington's child.

At the time, all Inez could think about was how terrible it would be to have this baby and worse of all, having to tell Buck about it. He would insist upon marrying her and she really did not want that at this point. She had no wish for either herself or Buck be forced into marriage because of a child and yet she did not know how she could have it without a marriage. To have a child without a father would be difficult enough with the social implications that went with. Although to be truthful, she knew she could count on the support of friends like Mary and Alex, who would not judge her harshly. The town of Four Corners was another thing entirely and she had been terrified of what would happen when they found out, since hiding it seemed rather out of the question.

"Now you rest Inez," Paloma urged as Inez lay her head back on her pillow, her hand stroking Inez's dark hair in a manner that always managed to put her to sleep as a child. "I will make some you some tea and you can clear your head."

"I always loved how you do that mama," Inez smiled faintly as she met her mother's gaze and savoured her touch. "Was it hard for you mama?"

"What is that my darling?" Paloma asked gently, continuing the soothing gesture over her hair.

"Raising us alone after papa died?" Paloma had been the sole provider for herself and her younger sister Calla ever since the death of their father when she was a child. It was hard for Inez not to become as strong-willed as she was when Paloma Rosillios was the example by which she had to follow. Her mother had never made it look difficult, raising two children while at the same time, seeing no reason to be married again.

"It was hard Si," her mother nodded, struck by the question but seeing no reason not to answer. It was no strange a request as anything else Inez had asked of her today. "But the hardship has its own rewards. I miss your father so much," Paloma's own image of Inez's father was forever as the handsome officer in the centralist army of General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, who had swept her off her feet in his smart uniform. "I loved him very much and when he left us and moved beyond, I saw no reason to replace him when I had my two girls to share the love I would give to him. It was difficult but my reward was you and your sister and it is strange that when you are older and wiser, it comes to you that it is enough to be happy."

Inez listened to her mother crooning an old folk song that she used to sing to Inez and Calla when they were children, particularly when they were sick or unable to sleep. As she felt her mind drift off, wondering if she would wake up and find herself back in her bed at the saloon, Inez honestly could not say if it was a blessing or a curse. She had wanted this for so long and now that it appeared that she had been granted a reprieve, she suddenly found herself hoping for reasons that had been still unclear to her that she wanted things the way they had been in Four Corners.

She wanted her baby back.

*********

JOSIAH

What the hell was he doing here?

Josiah flinched, knowing that was probably not the word he ought to use when he was standing in front of an entire congregation of churchgoers who were at the moment, staring at him, waiting in anticipation of his next spoken word. The paused expanded as Josiah looked around like a deer caught in someone's sights and discovered that he was standing at the pulpit, wearing the robes of a preacher giving Sunday. Then again, hell might not be far wrong as a description for his present situation. He stared at back at the congregation, tongue-tied and unable to form an articulate word and glanced at the book before him, hoping that he had written down notes for the direction of the sermon or for that matter what it was about in the first place.

Unfortunately, God was not on his side today.

Before him, there was only a copy of the Bible with no clues leading to what he had been talking about. Josiah swallowed; painfully aware of the slight rumble of voices that was moving through the congregation as they worked out what was wrong with the preacher. Adjusting his collar, which felt just as stiff and uncomfortable as Josiah had remembered the things to be, succeeded in killing a few seconds but did little more than that. He knew he had to say something because the faces staring back at him had shifted from confused to irritation.

"Father," a voice spoke behind him and almost made Josiah reach for the sky for the sheer fright of it. It did not help that he was so filled with anxiety, his nerves were like a Mexican jumping bean.

Josiah found a young priest looking at him in concern, with short red hair and equally pale skin. "Yes?" He tried to sound as if nothing was wrong but could not quite manage to inject that much persuasion into his voice.

"Father Sanchez, is there something wrong?" The young priest in his dark robes inquired.

"I'm not feeling too well," Josiah whispered, clearing his throat for good measure as he tried to avoid looking at the crowd again. He was never good with public speaking and whoever had given him the vile concoction that had been responsible for this bad dream was going to pay when he woke up. "Could you continue the rest of the service?" He asked, hoping the silent plea in his eyes was not lost on his younger colleague.

"Certainly," the man smiled in understanding. "I'll be happy to."

Josiah made a hasty withdrawal at that point, hurrying out of the main floor of the church to the room secreted in the rest of the building. Curious gazes followed him as he made his exit but Josiah did not care. He just wanted to be away from all those eyes. Disappearing through the door that left the church and the service behind him, Josiah continued up the length of the corridor until he could not hear the voice of the other priest showing him how it was supposed to be done. Only when he was far enough away to not be reminded of how bad he was at giving sermons, did Josiah pause to take a deep breath.

Once he had his bearings, following several deep breaths of air that helped to settle the butterflies in his stomach and the nerves that were rampaging through his system with hordes of anxiety in pursuit, Josiah took stock of his situation. It was not hard to discern actually, once he had time to think about.

His situation was this; he had no idea how he had come to be before a congregation, doing what he assumed was delivering a speech until that terrible moment when he senses returned to him and his ability to orate had vanished. Neither was he aware why he was wearing the uniform of a preacher when he had left the path years ago.

The church where he had been delivering his sermon did not at all look familiar to him and that alarmed Josiah considerably. His last memory was of Four Corners. He knew nothing else beyond that one significant point. How he had come to be here was not only eerie, it was downright impossible. He knew he was not a priest and yet he was in a church. Looking around himself, he recognized it to be quite intact, unlike the one he had spent so much time in Four Corners attempting to restore to its former glory. Suddenly, Josiah had a need to escape this building and find out where he was.

He felt most confused because he knew that his last memory had been indulging in a game of cards with Nathan, Ezra and J.D. before retiring to bed at the lodging house in Four Corners. He could remember the faces of those friends much more clearly than he could understand what he was doing here. Yet those people had stared at him as he had always been there. Josiah had thought it was a dream, to begin with but his dreams had crows in it and so far not one member of the ornithoid species was to be seen.

He continued down the corridor, seeking out the exit that led out of the building. It was not a big church but it had rooms for residential purposes and had to assume that if this was a reality and he indeed was a priest here, chances are this would be his place of residence as well. However, at the moment, Josiah was not about to make any snap judgements about anything he saw before him. Even though the floors of polished wood and the brick walls painted white with crucifixes and paintings at regular intervals, he was still not ready to say this was anything but a dream.

A set of large wooden doors awaited him when he reached the end of the corridor and Josiah hoped that it was the exit. He really needed to be outside, so that he could take a breath of air in his lungs and tell himself that he did not feel as insane as everything looked to him at this moment. Pulling apart the large doors, which were undoubtedly Spanish in its design, sunlight poured into the dim corridor. Josiah savoured the heat against his skin and looked into the landscape.

Judging from the flattened terrain and the dry heat of the air, Josiah guessed very quickly he was still out west somewhere. The sun was shining brightly in the sky although it did not have the peak that it would possess if it was noon.

There a town surrounding this house of God even though from first impressions, Josiah did not believe it was Four Corners. He already knew it was Sunday but further evidence to the fact was added what he spied beyond the patch of green surrounding the building. There were horses and buggies awaiting their owners return as they were tethered to the fences surrounding the church and some were even bound to a few slender saplings that passed for trees.

"Curiouser and curiouser." Josiah frowned, feeling a little like a blond girl that had suddenly stepped through the looking glass. The preacher stepped forward into the light as if being in the sunshine could explain the mystery that had brought him here. In truth, he was afraid because he suspected that this was no dream and through some quirk of fate, he had been placed here in a reality far removed from the one he knew. Such things were not beyond the realm of explanation for he was an opened minded enough man to know that there was much in the universe that remained an enigma for those who loved solving puzzles. This was once such riddle awaiting a mind perceptive enough to unravel it.

He wondered if this had anything to do with the conversation that he had been having with Ezra and J.D. the morning before. They had been discussing dreams, fulfilled or not. Josiah had confessed his reason for leaving the priesthood had a great deal to do with the inability to sit idly by while the rest of the world fought for its survival. He had never been good at turning the other cheek and since that was the utmost requirement for a man of the cloth, Josiah could not live with the hypocrisy of it. It was not a decision he regretted because since becoming part of the seven lawmen who defended Four Corners, he found that there were other ways to fulfil the Lord's work. The seven had helped many people since they began their tenure at Four Corners and that in itself gave Josiah some measure of peace.

Were Ezra and J.D. similarly displaced? The preacher considered this as he continued his walk into the so-far unfamiliar town. While it had all the earmarks of an atypical town in the Territory, this was not Four Corners, neither was it Sweet Water or Bitter Creek. From the barber pole to the livery, even down to the general store, it was in every way a community like the one he had called home. If this was real as he believed and not some dream, where would Ezra and J.D. be? In fact, where would all of them be?

If some force had considered this his greatest wish and granted it, what was to say that the same had not taken place for the rest of the seven? His stomach hollowed at what that would mean for Nathan Jackson and Chris Larabee in particular. However, it was not so much the where that concerned Josiah as much as the how. How had this happened? Now it was true that he had seen many things in his life that defied explanation, the most notable of these would have to be the incident surrounding Darien Lambert. That night, they had learnt that the physical world was not as immutable as anyone had ever believed. Altering certain events could shape reality. All it required was the medium that could accommodate the change.

Josiah stepped onto the boardwalk that ran up the length and breadth of the town, momentarily wondering if there was some preordained design that made one town in the territory no different from the other. This whole situation reeked of some form of unreality and yet Josiah could not help be awed by the flawlessness of its execution. Like magic, he was put in this setting with no one the wiser that he had lived the last fifteen years somewhere else. What kind of spell could induce some marvels.

Spells. Magic.

The two words remained in his memory when the others vanished, awaiting replacement by other thoughts. Josiah froze in his tracks as he tried to understand why those words were so important to him. They clung to the edge of his awareness, refusing to let go as they defied him to solve the mystery of why it was so important he understand why they were there. It lolled around in his head for a few seconds, teasing him with an answer right on the edge of the periphery where he could only grasp at it. Suddenly, like a gasp of a held breath, it escaped him and suddenly, Josiah had some vague idea as to how this could have happened.

Billy.

Chapter Three
Divergence

CHRIS

There was only one way for Chris Larabee to prove that he was not going mad. After Buck Wilmington, his oldest and closest friend had informed him that the year was 1875, not 1880 as he believed, Chris found his mind reeling with the possibility that it might be true. How else could he explain how he had suddenly come to be in the same Mexican tavern that he and Buck had found themselves the night that Sarah and Adam had died? One moment he was in Four Corners, lying in bed with Mary and the next he had woken up to find himself here, five years in the past. Chris was not a man who believed in miracles and he had yet to decide how real any of this was, yet one thought registered above all else.

Sarah and Adam were still alive and there was still time to save them.

Buck had resumed dancing with his Mexican senorita although judging by the furrow in the man's face, his heart was not in it as it once was. His eyes were still fixed in Chris' direction, silent in the worries about the strange exchange of a few minutes ago. Chris felt his heart pounding in anxiousness because if this was real and he was here, he had to go home and he had to do it now. Striding forward, he grabbed Buck by the arm and pulled him free of the woman. This time, she was not content to express her annoyance in a sharp glare aimed at his direction, instead, her shrill voice exploded into a series of rude Mexican expletives.

"Now what!" Buck grumbled, wondering what the hell was going on in Chris' head today. He was convinced Chris had been drinking some of that homemade stuff that the bartender sold to drunks who were too wasted to know any better.

"I'll explain later," Chris said abruptly, his grip around Buck's arm still firm as he dragged the big man out of the establishment, trailing a lengthy verbal assault from the young lady he was with.

"Explain what?" Buck demanded but made no attempt to pull away as Chris hauled him outside.

"On the way, Buck!" Chris retorted.

Both men left the tavern and immediately proceeded to the livery. The journey there had Buck firing numerous questions at Chris which the man in black did not respond. Outside the tavern, away from musty smell of cigars, liquor and cheap perfume, the night sky was beautiful and the air as equally fresh. Chris looked up into the sky and saw a myriad of stars twinkling with the same enchantment as he had known, during his last visit here. He had stared at the canvas or iridescence, without suspecting in the slightest what nightmare was taking place at home and what terrors were being faced by his wife and child in their final hours.

Not this time.

He had a chance to stop it from happening. Somehow, Fate had granted him a second chance to save Sarah and Adam and he was not going to waste it. When this had happened to him before, he and Buck had left this place too late to do anything but bury the dead bodies they had found. He closed his eyes shut, trying to force away the memory of how he had found them, their bodies burned and ruined. He had only managed to endure the ceremony of burial because he had been numb inside. Had he allowed the sheer horror of it to filter into his mind, he would have gone mad and plunged into an abyss from which there would be no return.

Back then, all he had been able to do for them was to give them a decent burial, a splinter of what he truly owed them but had little choice but to accept. Until Ella's arrival in Four Corners, he had not even known why, even though the years preceding her arrival had allowed him enough time to conjure all sorts of reasons. Chris had always believed it was an old adversary, never realizing for one moment that all enemies show their faces in the same way. They say evil can assume a pleasing shape and in Ella's case, it was frightfully true.

Buck Wilmington had tired of asking questions during the journey to the livery and had abandoned the idea of getting a straight answer out of his friend until after they had collected their horses and were on their way home. Despite his annoyance at being forcibly removed from the company of a very accommodating young woman, Buck knew that Chris did not do anything on a whim. Every thought and action was carefully calculated, nothing was ever left to chance. Buck knew that if Chris was this determined, there was a reason for it.

Buck studied Chris unobtrusively as they made their way out of town and saw that his best friend was almost on the edge of panic and could not understand what had frightened him so. It took a great deal to shake the iron-hard exterior of Chris Larabee's persona but the expression on his face at the moment did not merely look shaken but afraid. Chris was afraid and for Buck, the idea was almost preposterous. Chris feared nothing, had done so ever since they met the first time. There were very few men that could walk through life the way Chris did and still allowed some measure of humanity to survive the darkness within their souls.

The darkness inside Chris Larabee was always there, surfacing just enough to tell an enemy to withdraw, lest they provoked something terrifying into making itself known. Buck had seen it himself, those fleeting moment when it appeared in the ice of Chris's eyes and what he had seen made him recoil. Something so black and vile, predatory in its savagery and possessing the cool of a killer without remorse, would present itself, daring someone to provoke it into action.

He knew Chris kept tight rein of it, controlled it with shackles of discipline and ruthless determination. Buck could not possibly imagine what would happen if it was ever allowed to take complete possession of Chris Larabee. He only knew if it took Chris, it would never let go.

Once they had left the town far behind them, Buck asked his questions again. "You mind telling what the hell is going on now?" He looked at Chris with a frown, understanding that this was Chris way but refusing to believe he should have to like it.

Chris took a deep breath and knew he owed Buck an explanation even though when he did tell his story Buck would most likely think he was crazy. In truth, Chris did not know what was real or unreal any more. He remembered the past five years, the grief and pain of Sarah and Adam's death and the ultimate healing that brought him, Mary. It was as clear in his head as this place before him. All he knew was in this time, Sarah was still alive and he clung to that as the only anchor for his sanity to cope.

Releasing a held breath as he formulated some sort of way to present an explanation to Buck, Chris met the gaze of his old friend who would stick by him through the worst of what would happen, should he fail to save Adam and Sarah tonight. "Do you remember me telling you about Ella Gaines?"

"Yeah," Buck nodded, recalling the lady in question even though he had never met her but knew her from Chris' recollections. "You took up with her straight after you got out from the army, didn't you?"

"That's right." Chris swallowed. "I met her just after I resigned and turned in my stripes. When I got out, I drifted for a bit. There wasn't no family waiting for me so I didn't really have any place to go. I ran into Ella and it was like fire and oil from the moment we met. Being with her was like having a fever in your head, she made me crazy and I was ready to shoot anyone that came between us. It was self-destructive and I knew it couldn't last forever."

"Ones like that burn out quickly," Buck replied, unable to imagine Chris in the grip of such passionate relationship. With Sarah, the relationship was warm and affectionate, devoid of the heat of a frenzied sexual fire but nonetheless just as satisfying.

"They do," Chris agreed. "Unfortunately for Ella it didn't. When I left her and moved on, I assumed she did too. Buck she's been watching me every day since I left her. She's had people follow me, keeping a bead on who I'm with and who I've married. She thinks I'm hers and she ain't gonna stand anyone else being in the way." Chris met his eyes so that Buck would understand the full measure of Ella's insanity.

Buck started to understand where this was going. "Are you telling me, she might think Sarah and Adam are in the way?"

"Don't ask me how I know this," Chris continued and prayed that Buck would leave it at that. However, he needed Buck's help if he was going to stop Fowler and the men who were on their way to his home if they were not already there. "She's hired men to kill Sarah and Adam and they are going to do it tonight, while we were in Mexico."

Buck's eyes widened. "Jesus, Chris!" He swore. "Why didn't you just tell me this?"

Chris did not know how to explain to Buck that he had seen an alternate ending to this situation, where he and Buck had stayed on in Mexico as planned only to return home the next morning, to find his house a funeral pyre to his dead wife and son. How in the years that followed, he would almost be driven mad by the grief until a chance stop at a small town called Four Corners, would change everything with a glimmer of cascading gold hair.

"I can't explain it in any way that can make sense." He retorted, hoping that it would be enough to satisfy Buck for the moment. "All I know is that we have to get there before Fowler and his men arrived or they're going to burn down the house with Sarah and Adam in it."

"Christ," Buck turned away, exasperated by the lack of answers but struck by the fact that had they stayed in Mexico like he wanted and if Chris was right about these men, then Sarah and Adam would die because of him.

Chris knew exactly what Buck was thinking, even though he had hurdled the need to blame Buck following the death of his family. He knew that was part of the reason why Buck had endured the next five years, always remaining close enough to come to his aide if required. During those first few months, Buck was all that had kept Chris Larabee from putting a bullet in his head. Buck had refused to let Chris take the easy way out and the result had been a fracture in their friendship that had never really healed, no matter how much time had passed. Sure, they were still friends but it was not quite the same as what it was before.

"Will this woman Ella be there?" Buck ventured a guess.

"Yes," Chris nodded, his voice icy cold as he made the admission. Mary had mentioned something about Ella's presence at the house the night Sarah and Adam had been killed but did not go into details. Chris had the impression she was trying to protect him from something, although he could not for the life of him imagine what that might be. After losing his wife and son to a fire, Chris could not see what could be worse beyond knowing that. "If she is," he said coldly, "I'm going to find her and make sure they lock her up forever."

Buck hoped that was all he was going to do.

*********

MARY

Okay, she was not dreaming.

She knew this for certain now. Mary Travis found herself walking through the town of Four Corners, not knowing why how this could have happened but having come to the conclusion that this was not fantasy. The rampage by the drunks had subsided for the moment and the town was using the quiet to repair the damage caused by stray fire and generally rowdy behaviour. She had left Stephen in his office after cooking breakfast for him and Billy, to take a walk so that she could catch her breath at everything that had happened since this morning.

Despite herself, she could not help feeling some measure of irritation knowing that the office she had spent the last three years, being the editor and chief of the Clarion News was no longer hers. She was ashamed of her selfishness. After all, she had always wished for Stephen to survive that terrible night when those greedy landowners had come to take his life. However, in having this particular wish come true, Mary was remembering some other things that had been conveniently forgotten in time. Stephen was a wonderful husband but he let her do nothing and took care of everything. When she had lost him, she understood how much of a liability it was to go through life assuming your husband was required to take care of things.

Strangely enough, during the few weeks, she had been married to Chris, that had never been a problem. His requirements were slight, as long as he had enough money to buy bullets and liquor, he did not care what happened to his money and preferred that she managed it. He left most things to her because he knew she was capable of taking care of it and only offered his opinion when he felt strongly enough about something to make himself heard. For the most part, Chris was easy going and very different from what she remembered of married life with Steven.

As she strolled along the boardwalk, she could not help feeling a pang of yearning for him. However, this reality that she was now trapped in had turned her world upside down and suddenly, Mary did not know how she ought to feel about him. Steven was back in her life and she loved her husband as much as she always had but the years since his death had changed her and she was coming to the uncomfortable realization that the woman who was a wife and had spent years mourning her husband was gone. A new creature resided in her place. A creature who was fiercely independent, who knew her mind and was not afraid to storm the gates of heaven to get it and most of all, a woman who was still very much in love with Chris Larabee.

She found herself at the general store and peered through the shop front window, paying little attention to the items in the display but more concerned with what was transpiring inside. She could see Mr Hennessy taking cash of a number of customers who were at the register with their goods while spotting Mrs O'Leary engaged in a rather heavy session of gossip with Mrs Stern whose husband was the local barber. Mary searched the store until her eyes rested on a figure in the background, trying to go unnoticed as he continued to pack the shelves with packets of flour.

Mary found herself smiling despite herself, seeing the utter boredom in his handsome face as he placed another packet of flour on the shelf while trying to ignore the gaggle of words emanating from Janet and concentrate on what he was doing. He seemed so completely lost doing what he was and Mary knew that he was probably imagining wide open spaces where he could lose himself in the wilderness in complete anonymity. Vin Tanner looked completely out of depth as he tried to adhere to the mundane existence of a shop clerk, trying not to hate what he was doing and looking only for the slightest excuse to get himself thrown out of the place. Mary smiled in secret knowledge, completely aware that the time was drawing near for the event that would change all their lives and the future of Four Corners.

She resumed walking, pleased that salvation for Vin was just around the corner. Her eyes shifted to the town beyond the boardwalk, unable to believe how much would change in two short years following the arrival of the seven. At the moment, it looked as lawless as ever. The sheriff was nowhere to be seen and Mary fumed knowing that he was most likely cowering under his desk in fear, just in case he might be called on to perform his duties.

It surprised her how much law and order had changed Four Corners. At the moment, it looked like any other town where the law of the gun had run rife and citizens were forced to tread lightly in fear of the men who wielded their weapons like demi-gods, using fear and intimidation to get whatever they wished. The seven had changed all that. Mary sometimes wondered if any of them knew just how much they had contributed to the prosperity of Four Corners, following their arrival. With their presence in town firmly entrenched, businesses had returned, people who were ready to pack and abandon it had been persuaded to stay and suddenly, no one was afraid any more.

Mary was so intent in her observations that she took her gaze from the path she had been walking and found herself bumping into someone.

"I'm sorry. ." she started to say when she looked up at the stranger's face and reacted almost immediately. "Chris!" She gasped.

The man in black stared at the woman before him, hiding everything behind his steely blue gaze. Like she, he had not been watching where he was going; more interested in finding where the saloon was situated in this dusty town. However, as he laid his eyes upon her, he felt his breath catch and something inside him, long believed to be dead, shook itself free like a huge dog shaking the water off its back.

Sweet Jesus, she was beautiful!

That was the only thing that Chris Larabee could think as he looked into the most expressive blue eyes he had ever seen. In a flash, he saw things within those specks of grey that made him feel like a teenager again and the need to run his fingers through that cascade of gold hair framing her lovely face was more than he could stand. He took a step away from her hastily like he had been scalded at her touch, unable to remove his eyes from that face. It took him another second after he had stepped away from her to realize that she had called his name.

"I don't think we've met." He said coolly.

Mary saw the confusion in his eyes coupled with the intense feeling she would come to know as his love for her, reflecting back at her. He was just as captivating to her as he had been the first time he strode forward into danger, with his black duster trailing behind him in the wind, looking as if hell had ridden into town wearing the face of a God. Of course, he would not know her even though how he felt was apparent in his face. She felt a swell of pride knowing that he had been affected by her almost as completely as she had when they first laid their eyes upon each other. Mary felt her heart pounding in her chest and knew that around him, a normal heart rate was going to be a memory.

"You're Chris Larabee," she said recovering as best she could. "The gunfighter."

"Just Chris Larabee." He answered, studying her with that penetrating gaze of his.

His heart was beating in his chest and although he wanted to continue the conversation with her, he had no idea what to say. He had not been this tongue-tied with any woman like this since Sarah. Suddenly, the memory of his wife surfaced in his mind. It reminding him of how things were and made him feel extraordinarily guilty that he was even looking at this woman, whom he just noticed was wearing a wedding ring, like someone he would love to take somewhere and spend a lifetime making love to.

"Will you be staying long in Four Corners, Mr Larabee?" Mary asked, her own voice breathless because she wanted so much for him to take her in his arms and explain what was going on. She looked at him and knew for certain that this reality should not be. Steven had died and as much as she loved him and might have wished for his return, she knew that the person who made that wish had moved on and this reality that she was now experiencing was not meant to be.

Mary wanted her life back, the life where she had married this man before her a few weeks ago, where he had made love to her this morning after breakfast.

"Just passing through," Chris answered, telling himself to walk away but finding that he could not. He studied her face, admiring the luminescent skin whose texture of ivory made him want to brush his fingers against the peach-like softness of her face and feel the silk of those pink lips.

"That is unfortunate." She continued, her eyes never leaving his and unspoken things were conveyed and the electricity between them was a force to be felt, a heat that stood poised on the edge of starting an inferno.

"I can't see no reason why... Mrs.?" He asked, his gaze briefly moving to her hand where her wedding ring glimmered under the sunlight.

"Just Mary." She said softly, feeling somewhat ashamed admitting to him that she was married. What must he think of her? A married woman, starting a conversation with a known gunslinger in the middle of a public street, with her attraction for him obvious to anyone who paused to look. Her cheeks flushed crimson at the idea and she looked around nervously, breaking the gaze long enough to see a few curious eyes in her direction.

"Maybe I'll see you around, Mary," Chris replied, taking the opportunity to break away.

"I think you will," Mary called out to him.

He looked over his shoulder, long enough to give her a faint smile, one of those shadowy smiles that she had so much trouble reading in the beginning. However, he did not answer but there was just enough sparkle in those cobalt coloured eyes to agree with her. Mary let out a sigh and turned away from him when she found Steven staring at her.

"Stephen." She swallowed being able to tell by the dark expression on his face that he had seen the whole exchange and was completely unimpressed by her behaviour.

"What the hell were you doing talking to that man?" He hissed, taking her arm and towing her back to the Clarion, in front of God and everyone.

"Stephen!" She exclaimed loud enough for Chris to pause in his footsteps and watch her being manhandled across the street. She saw a slight flicker in his eyes as if he wanted to intervene but knew not whether he should or not.

"Stephen Travis, let me go!" She pulled herself free. "What is the meaning of this?" She demanded, glaring at him in indignant fury. All eyes were fixed on them and Mary felt her cheeks deepen with a crimson shade in pure mortification of this public display.

"Mary," he said barely concealing his anger. "I saw you talking to that man! That's Chris Larabee! The gunfighter! A decent woman does not carry out conversations in public with that kind of scum!"

Mary immediately shifted her gaze to Chris and saw him standing on the barest edge of control. She knew it would take little more than another harsh word from Steven before the gunslinger would be on his way to her defence. Mary did not want things to reach that point. "I'm sorry Steven," Mary said swallowing her anger and tolerating his anger for the moment. There was a sequence of events that needed to happen and if Steven and Chris become locked in some kind of confrontation, it would not happen and neither would everything she remembered. "I ran into him by mistake and we started talking, there was no impropriety intended. I apologize if it appeared that way."

That seemed to pacify his anger and he softened considerably at her admission. "I'm sorry too Mary," he reached for her and ran a gentle wisp of his thumb against her chin. "I overreacted. I just want to keep you safe."

"I know." She replied and linked her arm through his before continuing back to the Clarion.

When she looked over her shoulder as they drew away, she saw that Chris was gone.

*********

VIN

Vin Tanner stared at Kincaid's body wondering how this could be.

He knew for a fact that Kincaid had died more than two years ago because finding his body and returning it to Tuscosa had been one of the defining moments in his life. The sequence of events that would shape his future following his return to Tuscosa had stemmed from this one pivotal moment. When he had taken the body back to the little town, Vin had never suspected that the body he was carrying had been anyone but Eli Joe's. He supposed it was an easy enough mistake because Eli Joe had selected his victim well. The man who was lying half immersed in the water trough bore enough of a physical resemblance to the image of Eli Joe on the poster Vin had at the time, for the tracker to make the mistake of thinking it was him.

For a few seconds after his discovery, Vin merely sat and stared in stupefied astonishment at the body before him, trying to understand how this could happen. He had come to realize that somehow, although he was at a loss to undersand how, he had been returned to the day he had found Kincaid's body. The irony of it was that he had always wished for the opportunity to return to this moment, to walk away so that he could avoid the ramifications it would have upon the rest of his life. Without the bounty on his head, he could actually marry Alex and make a decent start to their life together.

Walking away now would ensure that much would happen but that he still wanted to bring Eli Joe in for using this poor unfortunate as bait. For the longest time, Eli Joe had operated on the assumption that Vin did not know what the outlaw looked like. However, things had changed significantly with the present situation. Vin did know what Ely Joe looked like and he also knew that this body in the trough was a trap laid for him. Vin also had the advantage of surprise because, at this time, the outlaw would assume that he had returned with the body to Tuscosa to collect his reward. Eli Joe would have every reason to believe that Vin was no longer on his trail and thus would not be looking over his shoulder.

Besides, even if Vin did walk away now, where could he go? Alex was still travelling the world with her father and Chris Larabee had yet to make the fateful trip to Four Corners that would see the formation of the seven. Even then, there was no guarantee that Eli Joe would not come for him because Vin had been the only bounty hunter to get within hair's breadth of taking him in. Such men could not live with that possibility hanging over their heads. In the past Vin remembered, Eli Joe had tracked him down even after he was a fugitive with a price on his head. Vin had no intention of walking away only to have Eli emerge from the woodwork in the future to visit grief upon everyone he cared about.

Vin pulled the body out of the water, deciding that if he was going leave Kincaid then the least he could do for the man was give him a proper burial. Vin returned to Peso and rummaged through his saddle, seeking for the tool that would allow him to dig a suitable grave. Like before, there did not seem to be anyone present so he had to find a suitable spot for the gravesite and hoped that Kincaid would not mind the choice. Even though the cold had set into the man's corpse from being in the water, the look of him told Vin that Kincaid had not been dead for very long. As he produced the small spade he had in his keeping, Vin decided that once he had completed the task before him, he would camp some distance away from the property and wait until first light.

Once the sun was up, he would return and conduct a thorough investigation of the place, seeking the tracks he had never bothered about before that might give him a clue as to which direction Eli Joe might have headed. No doubt the outlaw would be complacent now, assuming Vin had fallen into his trap and would not be expecting him to continue the hunt. As Vin started digging, he realized he knew very little about Kincaid and wondered if the man had any family to mourn him in or would even care if he was dead. He assumed there had not been because he had been residing in Four Corners for some time now and the only ones who seemed interested in bringing him in were the private bounty hunters and not the law.

In any case, the task of burying Kincaid did not take long. A little more than an hour had passed following Vin's discovery of the body before the tracker put the final piece in the ring of stones that framed the mound where Kincaid was laid to rest. He had selected a spot underneath the shade of some trees not far from the house and although the darkness did not allow him a clear view of the site, it seemed peaceful and somewhat appropriate for a final resting place. Vin wanted to say a few words but nothing came to mind so he decided to leave it at that. If Kincaid had family, they would find him soon enough. Vin had left enough markers to indicate where the grave was.

Returning to Peso, Vin felt the need to put as much distance between himself and this property as possible. A slight shudder ran through his spine at the knowledge that he had somehow stepped through time to emerge at such a fortuitous place in time. Climbing back on top of his horse, Peso seemed just as happy to depart as Vin himself. Before Vin could even nestle himself back into the saddle, Peso had started moving of its own volition, indicating to its master its eagerness to leave this place. Animals were known to have keener senses then men would ever know and Vin wondered if Peso could feel the disturbance in time and space that had allowed his return to this point.

"Come on boy," he dug his heels in and Peso broke into a robust trot away from the property, covering enough distance in a few short minutes to put the place far behind them. Vin could not blame his horse for feeling skittish. This entire situation reeked of supernatural forces at work. Vin was neither gullible nor superstitious but he was not obtuse enough to deny what was right in front of his eyes. He knew his mind, he knew that he had come across Kincaid's body before this and events had unfolded in a different way. Why some twist of fate had allowed him to be in the same position again was beyond his ability to answer but he knew if he had a chance to change things he was going to take it.

The further he drew away from the Kincaid property, Vin found himself wondering how things would progress after this point. While he knew what would happen when he finally made his way to Four Corners, everything between now and then was a mystery and Vin knew it was never wise to tamper with the way things ought to be. However, in Eli Joe's case, he was willing to make the exception. Vin rode further into the darkness, seeking a suitable place to make camp. Despite himself, he found himself wishing Alex was here. He missed her terribly and had no idea how he was going to endure the lonely nights before her arrival in Four Corners.

Even when that did happen, there was no guarantee that she would even recognize him and what they had meant to each other. He was almost tempted to go after her, wherever she was but unfortunately wherever she was, was nowhere on this continent. If what she had told him was correct, at this moment Alexandra Styles was somewhere across the sea with her father. Besides, Vin did not know whether he wanted to face William Styles and explain to the man how a tracker without a penny to his name had somehow won his daughter's heart.

Still, it pleased him to know that if he resolved this situation with Eli Joe, he would no longer be a fugitive. When Alex finally came into his life, everything about their relationship would change. He could marry her, without having to worry about some bounty hunter turning up periodically to claim the $500 reward for his head. It was strange, Vin had never believed he was the marrying kind. Certainly not to a lady of Alex's calibre. Colour notwithstanding and he would readily gut any man who made reference to her skin, she was indeed a lady as any he had ever met. Although he feared what William Styles might think of him, Vin would have like to have known the man.

Judging from what Alex had told him about her father, it would have been quite something to know William Styles, since nothing about him seemed very conventional. Vin admired the man for raising such a headstrong daughter even though the fruits of his labour tended to give Vin more headaches than he could possibly imagine, especially when Alex got into her mind to do something to which Vin was diametrically opposed.

He was some distance away from Kincaid's property when suddenly, he could see the illumination of a campfire in the distance. He was still far away enough not to be heard by whoever had started the fire and Vin immediately pulled Peso to a halt. There was no other sound to be heard, except the voices emanating from the fire and the occasional hoot of an owl in the darkness. Vin had a good idea who was out there so he climbed off his horse and tethered Peso to a nearby tree. He could make the rest of the journey ahead on foot and it would be far wiser to make a stealthy advance.

Moving through the scrub, Vin blended into the dark, making no sound as he crept towards the fire, his eyes keeping watch on everything around him, paying attention to every bit of sound that spoke to him in the night. Despite his eagerness to have his suspicion confirmed, he did not make the mistake of rushing in blindly. The enemy had proved himself to be a crafty opponent and the innocent sounds in the dark might easily be faked to trick someone into believing all was well. Vin who had used the tactic enough times in his life was very aware of this.

However, by the time Vin finally neared the campfire, he had so far remained unaccosted or had yet to stumble into an ambush. As he let his guard down a bit, he neared the edge of the fire's concentration, closing in on the prey just far enough to see the illumination of the campfire, bouncing off himself but not enough to be seen by the four men who were gathered around it. Their lively chatter indicated no sign of awareness of being watched and judging by the slur in their speech, they were quite drunk. Vin's eyes moved across the faces, recognizing none of them as he followed the bottle they were passing around.

Only when the last man took a hold of it, did Vin's breath catch.

Eli Joe was among them.

Vin's eyes narrowed at the sight of his nemesis, wondering if the man had any idea that he was being watched or how much difficulty he had caused Vin in the past that only the tracker remembered now. Of course, he knew, Vin thought ruefully glaring at Eli Joe who was taking a swig from the bottle of whisky being bandied about. It had been the man's plan all the time, not only to make Vin a hunted fugitive but to make him feel just as hunted and disaffected as he did, to make him know what it was to not have a future. If it was not for Chris Larabee and Alexander Styles entering his life, Vin might have very well succumbed to the anguish that Eli Joe had wanted him to endure, except there was one significant difference between himself and the man he had been tracking. Vin had never murdered anyone.

Still, all that had now changed. The moment he had walked away from Kincaid, he had erased the stain that would follow him in the years ahead and by the time Vin was done with Eli Joe tonight, there would be no other Kincaid's left to find.

*********

ALEX


When Alexandra Styles finally coaxed her legs into movement, she ran forward and embraced the man coming towards her without care or thought for that matter of the spectacle she was making of herself. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him close to her, unable to believe that it was really him until she was able to feel the warmth of his familiar embrace around her. The tears had come so quickly, she had little time to stop them as she held her father in a hug full of happiness and rejoicing.

"Daddy" Alex whispered, crying softly as she clung to him. "It's really you."

William Styles was mildly surprised by this emotional greeting from his usually level headed and extremely competent daughter. "Of course it's me, Lex." He said somewhat puzzled by the reception. "You only saw me yesterday."

Alex pulled away from him and composed herself, ignoring the strange looks she was getting from the people moving past her in the hospital corridor. Yes, that would make sense in this strange world she had stumbled into. He was always a big part of her life, even if she did snare a plush posting in a hospital like this, she had no doubt he would cross an ocean to be with her. They had rarely been apart since the day she was born and Alex had no doubt that if Randall Mason had not caused his death prematurely, they would still be together.

"I'm being silly," she said drawing breath to steady herself at the shock of seeing him here. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she looked at him and saw that he had not changed at all. He still wore his favourite dark suit, his once dark hair had thinned considerably and he stared at her with the dark brown eyes most thought she had inherited from her mother but were actually from him. "I'm having a very strange day," she responded, uncertain if she ought to tell him that just yesterday, she was in a world far removed from this one.

"Well," he frowned, not believing it for a second because there seem to be more to it than she was letting on. However, as he had come to know about his daughter, she would let him know when she was ready. "I thought I would tear you away from this bastion of medical conformity and take you to lunch."

"Bastion of medical conformity?" Alex had to laugh, remembering how he felt about practising in a proper hospital. Her father severely disliked conventional medical practices, which was why he had spent the first half of his life trekking across the globe and the rest of it taking her with him. "Daddy, you haven't changed a bit but lunch sounds good." She smiled, linking her arm through his as they resumed walking towards the main doors.

William Styles stared at her a moment, wondering what was behind that odd remark and shook it off. "You seemed a little distracted, Lex."

As they stepped out of the hospital into the sunshine beyond the white walls of the establishment, Alex took a deep breath and decided that the air like everything else she had experienced today was real enough. She was still confused at how she had come to this place but at the moment, with the blue sky shining gloriously over the manicured perfection of the hospital lawns and her father at her side, she decided she could leave the questions of the how until later. For right now, she wanted to enjoy the moment, even if she could wake up at any moment and find this to be nothing more than a vivid dream.

"I'm wondering what I'm doing here." She admitted, deciding that was as close as she was going to get to telling him the truth.

"I often wonder myself. We're in a new continent," he declared, his gaze moving across the place in a gesture of the land's sweeping vastness. "We could travel the country from one end to the other, I for one would like to meet the Indians at some point. I could probably devote an entire section of my book to their medicine men alone. Unfortunately," he sighed with the barest hint of a smile on his face. "I am doomed to languish in this stolid surroundings because my daughter wishes to adhere to convention and practice like an outstanding member of the medical community."

Alex rolled her eyes, remembering his sense of humour and realizing that she probably acquired it from him. "That's not exactly true you know." She remarked, embarking upon an idea that was probably insane but not caring because there were two things in her life she could not do without. One was her father and through some miracle he was here, talking about exploring America like he was Marco Polo setting out on the Silk Road. However, his remarks did give her the opportunity to acquire the other thing she could not be without, Vin.

"I would not mind practising some frontier medicine." She met his gaze and saw the surprise filtering into his face at her admission. "Perhaps in someplace like the west."

"Really Lex?" He stared at her hard. "I never thought you were interested in frontier work. That is probably my fault for dragging you halfway across the world."

"Daddy," Alex sighed, not liking for one minute that he believed she might have not enjoyed time together. "I loved every minute of it but I have a question of you first." Undoubtedly, if she wished to make her way to Four Corners, deep inside what was known to proper Bostonians as the Territory, her father would accompany her and to truthfully, Alex was reluctant to leave him behind after finding him again.

"I am intrigued." Styles retorted and he truly was. For as long as she had completed her internship, all Alex had ever wanted to do was practice in a proper hospital. Although he was disappointed for he had hoped they would resume their globe-trotting once again, he understood that he could not hamper her quest for her own dreams. Unfortunately, he was painfully aware that proper English society considered his beloved daughter to be of questionable pedigree despite the fact that he came from a notable family. However, who her mother had been would follow Alex all her life and he knew that there would be no residency at any hospital with that stain in her past. Thus, he had used his considerable influence across the Atlantic, calling on a favour from friends who were physicians in the New World and landed her this post.

Since her arrival at Boston Mercy, Alex had accomplished what most women of her time could only dream of. She had become a surgeon with a reputation that was quickly becoming one of the most notable in Boston. Even though he missed not having to travel, he was still exceedingly proud of her. To hear that she now considered leaving all this behind for something entirely different, conducting frontier medicine no less, was somewhat of a surprise.

"Daddy, if I told you I met someone, what would you say?"

He showed no reaction even though inside, William Styles knew that this day would come. He hated thinking his free-spirited daughter chained to a society like this. Bostonians were the most boring people in the world, the very idea of Alex becoming counted with their ranks was depressing. "What would you like me to say? I always assumed this would happen. I gather he is a doctor?" He ventured a guess.

Alex smiled, seeing the dread in his eyes. He could never lose her, did he not understand that? They finally reached the edge of hospital grounds and stepped onto the sidewalk that ran past one of the many streets in Boston. The day had brought everyone out and well-dressed folk in suits, made their way up and down paved streets with lamp posts and grand buildings towering over them. It was so far removed from Four Corners that Alex knew in an instant that she hated it.

"No daddy," she replied, wondering how she would describe Vin to him. "He's not a doctor, or a lawyer or anything like that. He can barely read, although I understand his lessons are progressing well. He's a lawman in the Territory."

His amazement showed. "How on Earth did you meet a lawman in Boston?" He asked although Alex had yet to see any signs of disapproval in his eyes.

"It's a long story." She said brushing the question aside. He had no idea how long a story it really was. "He doesn't have a penny to his name or anything else for that matter. He lives on a dollar a day." Alex had no idea how much her expression told her father as she spoke of Vin, unaware that the emotion swelling inside her heart was being reflected in her eyes. "But he loves me, daddy, he doesn't care who my mother was, he doesn't call me a doctor, he calls me a healer and at this moment, he's in back in a little town called Four Corners, doing the things he does. I miss him."

"I can see that." Styles responded, having never seen his daughter being so taken by any man. He supposed if this lawman was anything like how she described him, Alex had every reason to be so enamoured. Styles himself could not judge, he would reserve that opinion until he met the man for himself, although in truth, he cared little about the man's background just his character. Alex's mother had been the single brightest light of his life, eclipsed only by the daughter she left him. He had never regretted for one moment the decision to take Yasmine for his wife, despite the objections of his family due to her heathen background and her vocation as a dancer. The brief years he had spent with her had been the best of his life. He would not trade them for anything. Certainly not for the respectable English wife everyone had assumed he should have taken. If Alex had found someone who fulfilled her in the same way, he could not begrudge her his blessing because he knew what it was like to be cast out for the choices on made in life.

"So, what is this lawman's name?"

"Vin. Tanner" She answered, pleased that she saw no recriminations in his face and was grateful that her father was not inundating her with questions since when she finally did arrive at Four Corners, she was going to have enough of that with Vin. Nevertheless, Alex was determined to find the tracker even if he had no idea who she was. Besides, she knew Vin loved her.

He just did not know it yet.

*********

EZRA

When Ezra Standish finally walked out of the townhouse supposedly occupied by himself, his wife and two children, the gambler found himself letting out a sigh of relief the likes of which he had never known before. Once in New Orleans, he had been forced to play a hand of poker with two rather menacing individuals who took to polishing their knives during the game as a clear indicator to their opponents as to what would happen should they lose the hand. Ezra, who had been holding a straight flush at the time had never been so concerned in his life and later considered it to be the most frightened he had ever been.

Finding out he was married with children, was even worse than that. Although he stumbled through most of the morning like a soldier suffering battle fatigue, Ezra had somehow managed to offer his 'family' enough coherence to not rouse any suspicions. When he had finally left for work, he had been most astonished to find he had a carriage waiting for him and had confessed his desire to take in some fresh air before Annabelle would let him leave on his own volition. Ezra had no idea being married could be so damn restrictive. Upon leaving the house, he came to the very terrifying conclusion that if this was what it was like just to endure a morning in the state of matrimony, he would never survive a lifetime.

Despite his abhorrence to the whole prospect of a having a wife, he had to admit feeling some spark of pleasure at seeing his children. Elizabeth seemed to be his shadow, following him around for most of the morning, chattering idly about things only a child considered important and to his surprise, Ezra found he did not mind listening to her prattle on. Then again, Ezra had always had a soft spot for children although he would rather be tarred and feather before he was ready to admit it.

According to Annabelle, he was a lawyer and if it were not for the cards in his wallet, Ezra would have had no idea where his office was or what city he was presently in. He discovered that he was indeed in Charleston as he had guessed earlier in an address that was located in the fashionable side of town. Ezra walked past the tree-lined avenues, admiring the old houses that had probably been standing for as long as Charleston had existed on the map. He had to admit this fantasy of the life he had dreamt of as a child, certainly did fit the image held in his mind.

He was expected at work apparently and a morbid curiosity was drawing Ezra to the office where he supposedly conducted his law practice. Although he knew in his mind that everything that had happened today was impossible, he wanted to see what his respectable alter ego did during his day. Ezra could not imagine himself as a notable man of the law but he had considered that a solicitor would have a great deal of resources at his disposal. Perhaps, he could make use of those resources to find Julia and the rest of the seven. If he was here in this twisted reality, where the rest of his friends? What had happened to his mother? Was she still moving from place to place, following one con after another? How had she managed without him?

Despite the idyllic existence he had supposedly wanted all his life, Ezra felt suffocated by the whole persona he had woken up to this morning. He needed a drink badly and he needed a game of cards to remind him who he was. He thought about Julia, feeling a deep pining for her as he wondered where she was in the scheme of things. Was she in Four Corners with the rest of the seven? He wondered if they would miss him and before he realized that such a thing was an impossibility when he had never been apart of their lives in the first place. He had no illusions that they would have gone on quite well without him, finding no sense of loss by his absence.

Eventually, he relented and proceeded to the office where he supposedly carried out his career as a lawyer of some note in Charleston. The city itself had not changed and Ezra was able to navigate his way through the streets and busy avenues to find the prestigious business district where, as displayed on the card, resided the office of Ezra Standish, Attorney at Law. Even seeing it on the card did not make it any real for him because Ezra still had memories of who he had been and those memories did not speak of a person of any repute. The man he had been, no, he corrected, the man he was, had the basic ingredients of morality but little more than that.

The office was located in a building that towered at least three stories in height and as he walked into the main lobby, a well-dressed doorman tipped his hat in Ezra's direction and greeted him with a wide smile. "Good morning Mr Standish."

"Good morning," Ezra said trying to return the warmth in the man's voice even though he did not feel it.

"Congratulations on your big case." He added. "You sure show them darkies how we do things in the south."

Ezra looked at him sharply. What the hell did he mean by that? Ezra wondered, starting to have some very terrible suspicions rising from the pit of his stomach. "Thank you." He said hiding how much the man's words had shaken him.

As Ezra descended up the stairs, his mind whirled at what the man had said. He supposed the Ezra Standish who was an outstanding member of the community would never have had the chance to meet Nathan Jackson or Alexandra Styles. Between the two of them, they had managed to change the way Ezra viewed people. Until Nathan's presence in his life, the idea that a black man could become a friend let alone and equal was unimaginable to him. Even though he never condone the cruelty to Negroes in any shape or form, he certainly did not feel that they were equals. Nathan had changed all that.

If he had never met Nathan than all that he became since knowing the healer would be no more. Ezra had a feeling that the man who was in the place of that person was a true figure of southern hospitality, cut in the same ilk as men like Nicholas Serfonteine and James Micawber. The idea that the progression of his so-called respectable life had led him to adopt such philosophies made Ezra sick to the stomach. Nathan Jackson was his friend, a close friend as any he had ever had. Nathan had not only saved his life more times than Ezra could count but he had done so knowing how Ezra had felt about him.

He was still engaged in these disturbing thoughts when he reached the floor where his office was supposedly situated. He walked down the corridor that smelled of fresh paint and the lacquer of the polished wood floor and found that he was in extremely good company. Passing by the doors on the way to his own, Ezra spied a doctor practice, a cadastral surveyor and even an insurance broker in the office preceding his own. Ezra could not imagine spending his days cooped up in one place, pouring over books trying to find legal loopholes which were really nothing more than another form of the con, except the mark was a jury of twelve men supposedly good and true. Ezra supposed it was not so difficult for him to excel at the vocation when anything requiring deception was involved.

Upon reaching his office, he saw his name stencilled neatly on the frosted glass of the door and voices busy at work emanating from behind it. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if the wiser thing was to just walk away right now, instead of entering and facing the real possibility of being exposed as a fraud. As it was, he had serious reservations about the kind of law he practised. Was he merely a mouthpiece for extremist views on keeping the black man down in his place? Is that what being respectable was all about?

Deciding he would never know until he found out, Ezra twisted the doorknob and entered the room. He found himself in an office a great deal more elaborate in furnishings and design that Mary Travis' own at the Clarion News. He saw a number of clerk sitting behind desks, doing battle with typewriters, flanking an aisle ran past their desks, culminating at a partitioned section that Ezra assumed was his own private bastion. The room had the aroma of old papers and books, the source of which he spied found one corner, where thick volumes of law books were in residence along a wide shelf.

Light poured through the open window, illuminating the dust in the air and giving the place an atmosphere or erudite respectability. He had no sooner stepped into what passed for his waiting room when he noticed a young black woman rising to her feet at his arrival. Before she was allowed to speak, one of the clerks obviously in his employ, hurried from behind his desk to intercept the conversation. A weedy looking young man with pocked skin approached him nervously.

"Mr Standish, this is Mrs Washington." He whispered anxiously, his eyes darting furtively to the lady and then to Ezra as if trying to convey some secret message of importance.

"Mrs Washington?" Ezra asked, naturally unfamiliar with the name, wondering why the man was keeping his voice low and doing it in such an obvious way that the woman was completely aware of it. Her brown eyes met Ezra's with nothing less than contempt and he prayed secretly that his respectable stance on racial politics had not caused this woman mischief.

Turning to the lady, he tried to continue the facade that he had some idea of who she was even though it was a mystery to him. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Washington."

She strode up to him, fire in her eyes, looking magnificent even though her clothes were faded and worn. She carried herself with great dignity as she approached him. Without warning, her hand flew back and struck him clear across the face. "You bastard! I hope you're happy!"

It was not by any means a blow that hurt him but it was the vehemence behind that caused the most damage. Her face glared at him with rage but underlying it was an anguish that was as plain as day for anyone who cared enough to look. Without knowing the specifics of what he had done, Ezra knew instinctively that he had wronged her greatly and mischief was a vast understatement to what crime he had committed under the veneer of respectability he used as a shield.

"Now see here," his clerk declared and took a step towards her. She held her ground, unflinching in her fear of harm coming to herself. The other clerks were rising from their seats, rallying to his defence in a similar fashion.

"Stop," Ezra said firmly, gesturing with one hand that he wanted no action taken against her. Judging by the unspoken sorrow in her eyes, he guessed that she was in enough pain. A slap across the face was not exactly the worst insult anyone had ever paid him and he knew his ego would survive this. "Madam, if you could just tell me. ."

"Tell you?" She laughed a cold humourless laugh, devoid of any amusement. "You got your friends off. All of them! They raped my little sister, killed my Albert when he tried to stop them and you! You let them get away with it!" Her voice started to shake as she stared him down, her eyes welling with tears that had been long restrained. Ezra saw the wall of strength shatter and the grief came tumbling down across her face.

"Mr Standish is not responsible." The clerk said behind him. "You nigras ought to know your place. You had no business buying that place next to Ray Parkinson and his kin. You asked for what happened to you."

Ezra swallowed, feeling the bile rise from his stomach as he started to understand what part he had played in this woman's tragic circumstances. No doubt, the Washingtons as many others before and after them had done since the war, found themselves, landowners, next to white families who still believed that a Negro's place was still in the cotton fields as a slave. Violence ensued as it almost always did and naturally, Mrs Washington had made some attempt to seek justice only to realize that justice to Negroes in the south was a scarce thing.

"I came here today to let you know that you let an innocent man die for nothing. I guess to folk like you what's one more dead nigger." With that, she turned on her heels and left, saying nothing and eliciting silence in her departure from everyone in the room. Only after the door had slammed behind her could Ezra release a held breath. If anything had the power to tarnish the dream of this seemingly perfect existence, it was the sorrow he had seen in her eyes as she spoke her final words.

"Uppity bitch." Someone said with complete and utter derision.

Ezra tried to hide his disgust at the lack of compassion or the understanding for what the woman had been trying to say and decided it was pointless attempting to make them understand that there was no pride to be had regarding the case that had garnered him everyone's salutations. He felt the clerk pat him on the back and remark. "Don't worry about her Mr Standish," the man said, smiling at Ezra as if the compliment he was paying Ezra only served to deepen the gambler's disgust at the man he had become in this fantasy world.

Ezra said nothing and broke away, striding towards his desk, deciding that at least in there he would have a moment to decide how much more of this charade he could tolerate before he got on his horse and started riding for Four Corners.

*********

JULIA


She was rich.

She was finally secure. She was rich, rich, rich.

Although Julia Pemberton had once believed that when she was allowed to inherit her father's entire estate without the burden of having a husband to lord over her and her money, she would be deliriously happy. Often she would play out a scenario in her head where she would be transformed from restrictive heiress into a world-famous traveller, using her money to take her across the globe from one adventure to another.

Julia had believed the world to be her oyster and no one had the right to deny her what was hers, in particular, her father. He had been her creature for as long as she had lived and when he had arranged her marriage with Packard, Julia had learnt for the first time how wrong she had been. Even after she had fled Philadelphia, even after she had reached Four Corners, she had often wished that if he had only died before he could arrange the marriage with Roderick Packard.

Now that it had finally happened, Julia was uncertain or not whether this was a blessing or a curse. After the initial shock had faded, following Packard's announcement of what was contained in the will, Julia had felt a certain smug satisfaction as she walked into the house, surrounded by relatives she despised for the reading of the will. She watched them treading lightly around her, uncertain of how to behave since her father's death had been so sudden and it was likely the will he left behind would favour his only child. Most of her relation, owed in some way, their income to the prosperity of Donald Avery. With his being dead, that income now remained in precarious balance and those who had reason to treat Julia with scorn realized now the folly of their actions.

When the will was read, it was as bad as they feared. Julia had indeed been left the entire estate, all two million dollars worth of assets, from cash to stock and bonds, to real estate. She had barely paid attention to the details once she was told she had inherited everything. Julia enjoyed the expression of stark fear in the eyes of the family as they learnt that the trusts they had lived upon for so long were now to be handled at Julia's discretion in whatever manner she saw fit.

For the first few days, she had been in a bliss of power, exulting in it as she had never enjoyed anything so much in her life. She had once believed that the heights of pleasure could be reached by sexual possession of another being but there was power more potent and far more satisfying than that. She thoroughly enjoyed her intimidation of her pompous relatives who had lived viewed her with contempt all her life, hating her because she was as highly regarded to Donald as the wife they never approved of.

Although she meant them no real harm, Julia nonetheless kept them in the dark, seeing no reason to let them know that she had no intention of interfering with their incomes, because her father's holdings were still ongoing and managed by efficient accountants. However, that did not mean she could not enjoy herself at their expense for a little while. Still, the pleasure soon dwindled as a new threat began appearing on the horizon.

Roderick Packard, despite her best attempts to convey the message that she wanted little to do with him, was an insistent visitor to the house. While she tried not to be unkind because he had a manner about him that could inspire menace if properly provoked, Julia had no intention of giving him any false hopes that she might be in the least interested in pursuing a friendship with him. Only his death had stopped the plans her father never had a chance to bring to fruition when he had first approached Packard. Julia had no wish to fall in the same trap again.

However, Packard was not the only problem. Unfortunately, the word was out all across Philadelphia society that a very eligible heiress had suddenly come into a considerable fortune. That sort of news was enough to send every fortune hunter in the state scurrying in her direction. Very soon, Julia was becoming inundated with invitations to tea from dowagers who had previously looked down upon her, having properly been informed of her wanton behaviour by her loving relations. Apparently the money seemed to have created a vortex of amnesia because no one seemed to remember her past reputation.

Julia knew there was only one man she wanted and as soon as she was able, she instructed detectives to find out if Ezra Standish was still in the town of Four Corners and if not, where was he? Their services had not come cheaply but fortunately, they were well worth the investment. In a matter of days after her initial inquiry, Julia Pemberton was told that Ezra Standish was indeed in Four Corners, being one of seven men charged to protect the township from the bad elements of the Territory.

Julia remembered reading the report and thinking with a faint smile that the seven men charged with maintaining law and order were the bad element. Still, knowing Ezra was in Four Corners gave the heiress a great deal of relief. The fortune hunters that were after her inheritance had come out of the woodwork with a vengeance. It did not help matters that she was an extremely woman but coupled with the fact that she was a young millionaire, the men who came courting for her hand saw this a mere bonus to the robust fortune that would become theirs to control upon the betrothal.

It was not to say that the men vying from her attentions were less than perfect. Not all of them were like Roderick Packard whose interest in Julia actually eclipsed the money she had inherited. While he would have been ecstatic, as any man might have been to acquire such a fortune, he was more interested in the family from which Julia came. Packard was known as new money to the traditionally upper classes of Philadelphian society. Such men had trouble gaining acceptance into the social circle of the elite. While Packard was liked by some and tolerated by others of this select group, he could never hope to count as one of them.

That is unless he married well.

Despite the fact that she was considered a wanton in Philadelphia society, Julia was still an Avery and to Packard that was the vehicle in which he would ride into the company of the elite. They would accept him begrudgingly of course but tradition would demand that he be accepted, nonetheless. Thus, he was determined and resolute in his desire to win the affections of the young lady that would make his dreams come true.

Julia knew this of course and she held him at arm's length. In fact, she pushed them all away where once she would have made them tear each other apart for her amusement. Unlike Packard, not all her suitors were coarse and unrefined. Some were polished like fine stones, while others were beautiful to the point that they would be completely boring outside the bedroom. Julia had no need of such distraction and found herself thinking as they paraded themselves before her, that none had the charm or the character of a gambler who was willing to con a bunch of marauding drunks with a card and gun with one live bullet and five blanks.

When she had discovered that Ezra was where he was in Four Corners, continuing with his life as always, with the notable exception of her acceptance, Julia found the first bright spark in her life following the fulfilment of what she once thought to be her perfect dream. Two million dollars had become a millstone around her neck from which Julia had not the strength to discard. She needed to find Ezra, to have him tell her that this was going to be a nightmare from which she would awake. Julia did not care that he would not even know her if she were to seek him out.

She had made him love her once. Julia was absolutely certain she could do it again.

Still, Packard might prove to be a problem. The reasons for his determination to marry her were also adequate reasons as far as Julia was concerned for him to pursue her. She remembered the difficulties endured by Alexandra Styles when Randall Mason had appeared in town and she had no intention of enduring a similar situation with Packard. He was rich and used to getting what he wanted in life, managing his fortune as easily as he managed the people who ran it for him. If he suspected things might not go his way, Julia had no doubt that he would resort to extreme measure to see to it that it did.

Fortunately, Julia had a plan. She always did and the intellect of Roderick Packard and the likes of him were easily circumvented because they possessed an arrogance about them that enforced the belief that the will to do a thing could make up for the lack of ability. In truth, Julia's plan had even more far-reaching consequences than anyone who have guessed, should she be forced to remain in this strange reality where wishes came true in the worst possible way.

It was a plan to rid herself of fortune hunters, the would-be husbands and the sycophants who would do anything for her just to be thrown scraps from her table.

To be free of Packard and others of his kind, she had to marry. Fortunately for Julia, she had just the perfect candidate in mind.

*********

BUCK

Buck Wilmington walked out of the saloon with deep thoughts running through his mind. The joy at finding out Inez had forgiven him had been quickly eclipsed by the shattering news she had just brought to his attention. He could not believe that she had given him so little time to prepare for such astonishing news, masking her announcement under a flurry of seductive kisses, as if that could ease the burden of the knowledge she was about to impart upon him. He had merely stumbled out of the kitchen, too astonished to say anything with nothing more than a wide-eyed look that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

He needed to think because, with her one statement, she had changed his life. Buck supposed it was inevitable that something like this would happen to him eventually. With the number of sexual encounters he had on a weekly basis, it was somewhat surprising that it had not taken place sooner. Well, there was that one time with Lucy but in the end, Lucy's allegation that he was the father or her child was merely a ruse to prompt the man who was really responsible into marrying her. If it were anyone else, Buck would be denying it vehemently, but it was not anyone else. It was Inez.

Even though he was presently staggering down the main street like a battle-weary soldier who had just come off the line, he knew that he loved the sultry barmaid. He also knew that he had been the only man to have begotten Inez with child. As much as he wanted to run and the urge was quite overwhelming, he could not. This was not just some fleeting encounter like the others, to be discarded when it became inconvenient. This was Inez. He loved her and did not want her to be ruined as this surely would when the news got out. Besides, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea that there would be a child in this world that came from both of them.

Once again, Buck found himself revisited by all those old memories of fatherhood that he had considered when Lucy was determined to have him believe he was the father of her child. Back then, his mind had been filled with doubt and hesitation since he had trouble believing he could be responsible in the first place. However, with Inez, there was no doubt, not one shred of it. He knew that when she said he was the one, he believed her because, despite their fiery relationship, Buck and Inez had the firm rule of always being honest with one another.

Buck did not know his father. He had always wondered what it would be like to have one and knew what it was like to grow up without the strong comforting hand that supplemented the soft warmth of a mother's love. When he was a child, he had convinced himself that fathers played a minor part in the upbringing of a child and that he did not need one to become his own man. Not only until after Adam was born until Buck saw how much Adam had adored Chris, did he realize that he might have missed something important. Chris had been a great father and in the memories, Buck was certain Chris had driven from his mind from sheer grief, Buck saw how good father and son were together. The adoration was mutual and Buck had been privileged to play the part of Uncle as he was now pleased to fill that role for Billy Travis.

He did not want Inez to go through what his mother did, having to raise a child all alone. His mother had done well by him and he had shed real tears of sorrow when she had passed on but Buck refused to run out on Inez as his own father had done to his mother. It frightened him spitless to conceive what sacrifices needed to be made when something like this was decided upon, however, it repulsed him, even more, to know that there would be a child without the benefit of his name or his love if Buck chose to turn tail and run.

So perhaps, it had come sooner than he thought, the impetus that would finally make him settle down but he had it better than most men. He knew he loved Inez, he loved her with a passion and warmth that drove him crazy and he had decided long ago, though he told no one about it, that she was the only one he could ever think of settling down with. For the year, he had been gravitating back and forth with what he should do with this knowledge. Now he knew for certain.

Buck had to marry her and do the right thing by her.

Buck had been so intent with his thoughts that he had not been paying much attention over what was happening around him. Upon reaching that momentous decision, the lawmen looked up for the first time since his sudden departure from the Standish saloon. When he did, he noticed that something particularly odd was going on. All the women seemed to be staring at him. It took a moment for him to realize that they were not merely staring; their gazes fixed on him as he moved across the street, no matter where they were on the street, in the shops, with their children in hand and their husbands alongside. The men seemed oblivious to him, going on as they always had but the women were something else entirely.

Buck wondered what was going on and found himself swallowing deeply, feeling somewhat intimidated by those eyes bearing down on him with such intensity. A trio of young women, whom he knew quite well, strolled towards him, actually sashayed would be a better word. There was the suggestion in their eyes that indicated a desire to more than just talking to him. Buck for the life of him, could not imagine what was going. He questioned whether it was just him or had the world gone entirely crazy today, from the manner in which Inez had announced her news to the way every woman in town was staring at him like he was something to be feasted upon.

"Hello, Buck." The brunette who made up the three greeted with honey in her voice upon reaching him. For the life of him, he could not remember her name. Judy or Trudy...something like that.

"Hi there." He answered, trying to hide the apprehension in his voice.

"Me and my sisters were going for a ride, would you like to come along?" She asked, before all three burst into girlish titters as they closed in around him like vultures on a particularly tasty bit of carcasses. He felt hands on his face, shirt, enclosing his shoulders and offering delights in every caress of a soft palm. No matter how delicious the invitation might be Buck could not help notice that it was being made in the main street, with the entire town taking account. What were these three on? He wondered as he felt someone squeezing his rump.

"Take your hands off him!" Another feminine voice unfamiliar to the three entered the mix.

Buck pulled away from the three, astonished by their action and found that his rescuer was none other than Alexandra Styles. The doctor strode firmly towards Buck and the trio of amorous girls and grabbed him by the hand and pulled him away from their ministrations.

"Come on Buck," Alex said firmly. "You need to get off the street." She replied in that familiar no-nonsense tone he had come to know. "You seem to be in demand today."

"You're not kidding," he replied, grateful for her intervention as she dragged him away from the three young women who would not have left his virtue intact. "What is it with the women today?" He asked, taking note that the others watched his departure with salacious interest. Seeing the hunger in their eyes only made Buck hasten to keep up with Alex as she led him to the direction of the clinic.

"It's your animal magnetism." She looked over her shoulder, displaying no traces of the hunger apparent in the eyes of the rest of Four Corners' female population. "Its been enhanced somehow. I have no doubt that if I were to take the time to do the research, we would discover that your pheromone levels have probably quadrupled geometrically."

Alex lost Buck after the word magnetism but he understood most of what she had tried to put forward to emit a rather stunned exclamation. "You're kidding me."

"Not all," she said as they rounded the corner and approached the clinic. "It happens sometimes in nature, especially where the male of the species is outnumbered by the female. Pheromones are extremely potent stuff; they trigger the most biological impulses in an animal. Humans, no matter how much they might claim otherwise, are a more specialized animal."

"Then how come you ain't affected?" He asked.

"I didn't say I was not," she looked over her shoulder and gave him a perfectly evil smile. "However, I know what is happening and that gives me some ability to fight it. Have you not experienced anything strange this morning?"

Where did he start? Buck wanted to say but gave her words due consideration to come up with an answer. "Yeah, I have. Inez ain't mad at me any more. All of sudden, she was coming on strong, like she hadn't wanted my guts on a platter for the past month."

"I would say that is a definite yes." Alex retorted as they reached the clinic.

Buck was grateful to be indoors, although the sight of a group of women starting to converge upon the clinic horrified him. He noticed that they were coming towards the house in an almost trancelike state and was glad when Alex slammed the door shut behind them and locked in. He peered out the window, almost mesmerized by their slow advance. It did not matter how old they were; they were still coming after him. He counted at least twenty of them lingering in the street, trying to decide if they were going to rush the place or not.

"Can you do something to stop it?" He turned to Alex, who had swept out of the waiting room and had disappeared into her examination room.

"I don't know," she called out. "I thought that perhaps if we can smear you with some other pheromone that might counteract what you are exuding at the moment but that's easier said than done. I don't have any of the equipment here that I would need for a procedure of this kind of delicacy."

Buck followed her into the examination room and found her rummaging through the books that she had on the shelf as if searching for an answer in the volumes before her. Buck really hoped there was. The sight of all those women out there, all clamouring for a piece of him might have been someone's idea of a fantasy, but the reality of it was quite frightening. "You gotta do something." He said standing right next to her, looking over her shoulder as she studied the book in her hands. "I can't be fighting off all those women! Besides, some of them have husbands! They ain't going believe for a minute that I ain't tomcatting around with all their wives."

Alex closed the book, slamming it shut so loudly that it made Buck jump. She let it drop out of her hands and it fell heavily to the ground, landing on its pages upon reaching the floor. Swinging around, she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. Buck was too astonished to say a word as Alex's lips met his in a kiss of devastating potency. For a second, he could do nothing but react to the splendour of her mouth on his, kissing him with such brutal passion as her tongue forced his way past his lips. He could feel her hand running through his hair, while the other held onto his neck, pressing her body hard against him. He could feel her passion for him in the softness of her curves and the way her nubile body rubbed up and down his own as her lips took from him everything she wanted. In a brief moment of clarity as Buck Wilmington drowned in the sensation of her, did he understand why Vin Tanner was so completely lost.

Vin.

It was a brief realization but it was more than enough. "Alex!" Buck pushed her away. "Are you crazy!"

"I'm so sorry Buck," she said breathlessly, smiling at him with a dreamy expression that was so far removed from the doctor he knew. "I tried to fight it," she replied coming towards it again. "But I just couldn't! I just want you so badly, I have to have you."

She reached him again, one hand glided over his chest and the other probed further down, moulding to the part of his anatomy that could not deny how much he was aroused, no matter what he might be saying to her. "You want me too." She said huskily, her hand caressing the hard muscle of flesh that made him groan slightly.

"Of course I want you!" He exclaimed and forced her hand, her exciting, wonderful hand away from him. "A man would be crazy not to want you but not like this! You said it yourself; it's the pheromone thing that's making you feel like this! Nothing else. You love Vin and it's him you want and me he'll gut if I touch you!"

When she started unbuttoning the buttons on her shirt, Buck decided the argument was futile and did the only thing he could in a situation like this.

Run.

*********

JD

J.D. did not know what to do.

He was having a nightmare, a terrible nightmare. It was the only way he could explain with any reasonable explanation of what was happening to him. J.D. knew that he had gone to sleep last night and Buck, Chris and all his friends had been in the realm of the living. He had not killed them. He could not possibly have even imagined such a thing even though Mary Larabee firmly believed he had been responsible for the deaths of Chris and the others. He had almost fled from Mary following the ugly spectacle of their encounter on the street. J.D. had hurried away, half out of his mind from the sheer horror of what he had been told and knew that it had to be true. What he had seen in the eyes of all those around him when he had made his denials, told J.D. the truth. They thought he was lying and knew Mary was not.

He did not know where he was going, not until he found himself on the steps of the church. He had been walking blindly and knew he had to find out what had happened because he could not go stumbling around town until someone else came up to him with the same kind of anger Mary Travis had displayed. As he walked through the streets, he realized that the looks the townsfolk had been giving him all day were not respect at all, it was a darker emotion.

Fear.

They were looking at him with fear.

His heart was pounding so loud at this realization that he was surprised no one else could hear it his breast. J.D. swept past the shops, driving himself past their accusatory glares because he knew they were all staring at him like he was some kind of murderer. If it was true if he was truly what they suspected him to be, how could J.D. live with that knowledge? It was like looking into a box hidden in one's own heart and discovering that a monster had been in existence there all this time. Only a monster could have handed Vin to bounty hunters, allowing the tracker to be taken back to Tuscosa and then hanged for a murder he had been innocent of committing. The same monster who would eventually win a gun battle with Chris Larabee and drive Buck Wilmington to take his life from sheer despair.

He looked at the watch still clutched in his hand and wanted to throw it away but could not bring himself to do it because it belonged to Buck. Whatever this twisted dream might have caused J.D. to be the instrument of Buck's death, he still remembered Buck as his friend and protector, who ensured that he be accepted as part of the seven and guarded for the time it took for him to become his own man. Buck had given that all to him and to imagine that he had been the reason Buck Wilmington had put a gun to his head was more than J.D. could stomach.

He wanted to scream in protest that this was all wrong but he could not even do that much because the horror what was before him could not be denied even with the memories in his mind.

Suddenly, J.D. noticed Josiah's church in the far end of the street. It looked greatly improved from the last time he had seen it, so far as to having a fresh coat of paint and a new coat. For a moment, J.D. contemplated going in, almost fearful of what he would find inside. After the news about Chris, Vin and Buck, J.D. was reluctant to know what horror he had visited upon those close companions, he was afraid to learn how Josiah and the others had fared. Fearfully, he moved past the wooden doors and entered the main body of the building.

Despite the new wooden pews, the greatly restored altars and bright red carpet that ran through the main aisle of congregation hall, J.D. could still see the familiar features of the church he knew as he entered further inside the building. As a place of worship, it looked very much like the place that Josiah had envisioned it to be and J.D. marvelled at the amount of work that it must have taken to see that dream realized. No one was present as he walked down the aisle, even though the church was pretty much open to everyone with the candles flickering near the altar and the crucibles for holy water filled to the brim.

J.D. looked at the cross before him and uttered a silent prayer that he might wake up from this terrible dream. It was one thing wishing for a dream where he could be the kind of gunslinger that he used to read about in books but to have it realized at the cost of everything else, was something he had never hoped to endure. He had evolved into a creature that did not see such glory and fame worth the price of all the friends that meant the world to him. Apart of him would always wish for some semblance of those childhood dreams but the rest of him had become happy with what he had and was content to have people in his life rather than foolishness of glory.

"Is it my turn now J.D.?" Josiah's familiar voice boomed behind him.

J.D. let out a sigh of relief that was secret in his chest all this time. Turning around quickly, he saw Josiah looking as alive as the last time he saw him, with no discernible ill effects. J.D. was so happy to see the preacher alive and well that he had not heard the words spoken to him.

"Josiah, thank God you're alive!" J.D. exclaimed and took a step towards the man. "Everything has gone crazy! I don't know what's happening! Please, I know what everyone thinks I've done but I swear to you I didn't kill Chris and the others!"

Josiah held his ground and stared at J.D. with hard eyes. "You have an extensive list of sins young man," he said with that deep voice of his. "Do not compound your crimes by lying in the house of God. Even I must draw the line somewhere."

J.D. froze in mid-step and felt his heart sink with dismay because Josiah did not believe him. Why should he? If everyone else believed he was the murderer they claimed him to be, why should Josiah be any different? He was asking trust of a man, whose friends J.D. had gunned down to reach the fame and glory of being the best that he had dreamed of in his youth. J.D. swallowed hard and felt the fight dissipate from him. "I guess I shouldn't expect you to believe me." He said quietly, moving off the carpet and finding himself a seat the nearest pew.

"What do you want?" Josiah asked, with no affection in his tone.

"I didn't know where else to go," J.D. said honestly. "I woke up this morning and everything had changed." He spoke like a small child making a confession and considering it was Josiah before him, J.D. thought it was somewhat appropriate. "I remember playing cards with you and Ezra yesterday, Vin had gone to Sweet Water and came back smelling like a girl. Chris, Buck and Nathan were keeping an eye on Sid at the jailhouse. Everyone was still around."

Josiah said nothing for a moment, trying to see some deception in J.D.'s manner but could find no evidence of it. For an instant, he looked once again like the young man who had once asked him how to court Casey Wells, not the stone killer they had come to know in later years. "It has not been like that for a long time J.D," Josiah admitted after a long while. "Chris and Vin are dead by your hand. Buck took his own life but you might as well have pulled the trigger. Ezra was smart, he knew what was coming so he and Julia left. With Vin gone, Alex saw no reason to stay in Four Corners so she went too and asked Inez to come along. Inez agreed because she didn't have much a choice with the baby."

"The baby?" J.D. looked up in surprise. What baby?

"She was pregnant when Buck died, she never had the chance to tell him," Josiah said grimly. "The last letter I got from her was from somewhere in Canada."

"A baby." J.D. closed his eyes, too filled with anguish to say much else. Buck killed himself, not knowing that he had a child on the way. Did this get any worse? "What about Nathan?" J.D. asked, almost moved to the point of tears. "Please don't say I hurt him too."

"No, you didn't hurt him." Josiah retorted, unable to understand what game J.D. was playing and battling with his own conscience because the young man before him did not appear to be a ruthless killer. Far from it, in fact, he looked like someone had seen something terrible within himself and had no idea how to stomach anything that he had done. "Nathan left Four Corners when Alex took off. He got married to Rain and they live up at the Seminole village now."

At least that was something, J.D. decided.

He buried his face in his hands, hoping that in this house of God, some sense would come of what he had experienced this morning. However, there was no answer here, not when Josiah was staring him down like the scum he must have surely been for the crimes he could not remember but must have committed for the preacher to look at him with such anger. J.D. rose to his feet and met Josiah's gaze. "I don't remember anything I did Josiah." He said earnestly. "Not one bit of it. I woke up this morning and everything was like it is now. I don't remember killing Chris, I don't remember giving Vin over to any bounty hunter. I can't say anything to make you believe me except that I'm sorry. I always wanted to the best but not like this."

With that, J.D. walked out of the church, leaving Josiah behind to stare at the young man in confusion because, like J.D., he had no idea what was going on.

J.D. stepped out into the sunshine thinking that nothing could be worse than the encounter with Mary and realized how wrong he was in light of what he had discovered about the others from Josiah. At least the preacher was still alive and his other self, the one who had been responsible for all this death had apparently decided to leave Josiah alone. J.D. supposed that was some small comfort even though he could not forget how Josiah had looked at him. There was no trace of the friend he had once known, just a stranger who blamed him for a great deal more than he remembered.

The young man left the church behind him, deciding the jailhouse was probably the only refuge left to him since the Silver Star on his chest had not disappeared and he still the sheriff in town. Perhaps when he sat down and took a moment to breathe, he might work out what he was going to do. At present, he was still too shocked by everything he had learnt today. There were names that Josiah had not mentioned, like Casey and Nettie Wells. What had happened to Casey? He prayed he had not done something worse to the girl he loved so much. The man who would kill Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner were capable of far worse and J.D. did not want to know what that could be.

Suddenly, he heard the thunder of riders coming down the street. J.D. saw four men, riding hard towards the jailhouse. Reaching the building, they dismounted their horses and J.D. was able to get a closer look at them. He recognized none of the men but decided they looked mean and nasty which gave the young man some concern as he approached them. There was never any question in his mind about not advancing but in his state of mind today, caution was the last thing on his mind. They spotted him almost as soon as he made the decision to face them and took note of the way their eyes followed him as he neared.

People on the street immediately seemed to fade behind doors, disappearing into the background like they always seem to do when trouble was brewing. J.D. instinctively dropped his hand to his gun even though he felt some measure of fear pounding inside his chest. For the first time in his life, he would be facing four men alone, and kill them if that was their plan for him, without the aid of Buck and the others. It would almost be poetic if these four strangers killed him. At least, that was something J.D. could stomach.

"Can I do something for you?" J.D. asked, almost wishing that they kill him. He had nothing to lose now.

"We're looking for the Sheriff." The leader, a man in a black duster not unlike Chris Larabee's retorted, even though he possessed none of the presence of the gunslinger.

"Look no further," J.D. said coldly. "You found him."

"You're just a kid!" The man to the left of the leader exclaimed, spitting tobacco following that statement.

"So they tell me." The young man responded. "You going to stand there looking at me with slack jaws or you're gonna tell me what you want?"

"You remember Jonah Carlisle?" The leader demanded, glaring at J.D. as he asked that question.

"Should I?" J.D. replied, deciding that he was not even going to bother denying anything any more.

"You ought to," the man growled back. "You killed him."

"Can't place him," J.D. answered, his fingers poised over his gun. "But I'll take your word for it."

"You can take my word for it that I'm gonna kill you boy." He sneered.

At this point, J.D. hardly cared. If he had been responsible for the death of everyone he cared about then he preferred it this way.

*********

NATHAN

Nathan sat next to Zeus, one of the few trusted slaves in Serfonteine's plantation at Avalon who was allowed to go into town on his own. This was partly due to the fact that Zeus was almost seventy years old and far past the days when escape was anything he dreamed about. Nathan tried to remember what he could about the man, knowing only that Zeus had not been born in America and were one of the few slaves who had been born free from far away in Africa. It was said that when he first arrived on the plantation, when Mr Serfonteine's father had bought him, he could not speak a word of English and often sought to escape during his earliest years. It had taken fifty years to turn a free man into the bonded slave that he was now, silent and complacent, saying very little to Nathan as they made their way to Reidsville.

Periodically, Nathan would glance over his shoulder at the grey canvas that covered the back of the wagon, hoping that what remained hidden beneath it would go unnoticed until their journey back to the plantation. When the sun had finally set on the day and the blackness of twilight had covered the land in darkness again, only then could Nathan make his desperate plan of escape work. He prayed that everything would work out the way he remembered with the only difference being that Rebecca would accompany him on the exhaustive journey ahead. He could not endure the knowledge of what would befall her tonight if she returned to Avalon even if this escape attempt failed and they were both made to suffer dearly for the actions.

At the moment, escape was impossible with the sun high in the morning sky. By the time they reached the town, it would be noon and Nathan hoped their business in town would take long enough for it to be early evening when they started home. Once it was dark, Nathan and Rebecca's chances of escape would improve significantly from what it would be had they attempt to make their bid for flight during the day. The only obstacle that remained in their way was Zeus but Nathan was pretty sure he could knock the old man out without hurting him too badly. Unfortunately, such a violent departure was the only way Nathan could ensure that Zeus would not suffer any repercussions from the master for their actions. Knowing how brutal Serfonteine could be, Nathan was unwilling to risk the man's life for their sins.

To keep Zeus from noticing anything strange, Nathan decided to make conversation, hoping that he would be oblivious to all until it was time for Nathan and Rebecca to make their escape. Until this point, Nathan had never really had much to do with the former African, although he did wonder what it must have been like to be born free, to know where he had come from or having the knowledge of ancestors far in the distant past.

"Do you remember much about being free Zeus?" Nathan asked.

Zeus was a dignified man, his dark curly hair had become snow-white but he retained his height and his authority and dignity were always present. Every other slave respected Zeus even though he said little and most of the time kept counsel to himself. He turned to Nathan with a peculiar look as if he were regarding the youth for the first time.

"Who told you I was born free?" He asked. Even his voice did not sound the same as the other slaves. There was an accent to it that was unfamiliar and exotic.

"I hear things," Nathan answered. It was the truth, he had heard about Zeus' past that way.

"You see a lot of things too don't you, Ajax?" Zeus stared at him with an expression in his eyes that did not seem old or feeble but as sharp as any man Nathan had ever known. In that moment, Zeus' hard penetrating gaze reminded him a little of Chris Larabee's. "You see a lot but you pretend to know nothing."

"Ain't it safer that way?" Nathan returned his gaze with a look of his own.

"After 50 years, I've learned so." Zeus retorted and kept his eyes on the track ahead. There was no one else on the road as the wagon continued forward and thick trees surrounded them on either side. The day was hot and Nathan felt for Rebecca who was hidden underneath the canvas covering, hoping that the balmy heat was not too insufferable for her.

"So what was it like, being free," Nathan asked again since Zeus had managed to evade the question earlier.

"Nothing like it." The man replied, his voice a little softer than normal. "You walk where you want to walk, you stop if you want to and you sleep if you're tired."

Nathan could see Zeus' eyes clouding over as he was returned to the past of his youth. To a place where he had been a boy child running across hot savanna plains, hunting game in the tall grass, watching and listening to sounds completely alien to the one he had lived for almost half a century. Its beauty reflected in the longing Nathan saw in the older man's face, still as clear and vivid as the day he had manacled and torn from his home in what must have seemed like a different lifetime ago.

"It must be good knowing where you come from," Nathan remarked.

"I know it all," Zeus said firmly as if he had locked everything he had been in a fortress deep inside himself where it could remain impenetrable to the master and men like him. "I remember my father's tribe and the stories of his youth. I know where my tribe goes during the wet and what they do for water during the dry. It is inside me and part of who I am and the master cannot take that from me."

"My name is Nathan." Nathan found himself confessing. "They call me Ajax but my father gave me the name because Nathan means 'gift' because my mama always said that a child was a gift unto the world black or white. My family name is Jackson. My pa says that his grandfather was called Jackson and that's how we got a family name, so we'd always knew where we started from."

"It is good to know where you come from," Zeus said understanding completely. "You hang onto that Nathan because someday, things will change and you can speak it openly."

"Things will change sooner than we know," Nathan replied, not intending to speak of the war that was coming but felt he could trust Zeus for some reason. "There is a storm coming Zeus. A war that will change everything in our world."

"I hear the talk." Zeus agreed. "Sometimes, when I'm driving the carriage for Master Serfonteine, I hear them talking about war and abolitionists. How they want to free us slaves, up in the north."

"It will happen," Nathan said firmly because he had seen it. He had seen the blood spilled in the war that was fought between the states where friends found themselves divided because a change of map had decreed that they were enemies. He saw the south struggle to keep itself entrenched in the old ways while the north brought progress with the aid of artillery and fire.

Zeus did not ask him to elaborate but said something just as surprising. "Is that why you and the girl are fixing to run?"

Nathan froze. He had hoped that he had provided enough of a distraction earlier on for Rebecca to slip onto the wagon unnoticed but had not evidently been as successful as he had thought. "I don't know what you mean." He tried to lie even though he was certain Zeus was perfectly aware of the truth.

"I seen in her the back Nathan," Zeus said as if he was bored by the whole concept of denial. "Now you plan on killing me when you run?"

"No!" Nathan exclaimed, horrified by the idea. "I was going hit you to knock you out but only so the master won't think you let us get away."

"It's a dangerous thing you plan on doing." Zeus pointed. "As someone who tried and failed, I'm telling you the master will punish you bad if you're caught."

"We can't stay," Nathan said firmly, steeling himself to attack if Zeus chose to turn them in. "Tonight he comes for Becky and I know he'll do more than just take her." He did not want to have to say that Serfonteine would beat her so badly that Rebecca would die when she was so close to hearing their conversation.

"It's the way things are," Zeus said grimly, his lips a thin line of distaste because he knew what it was like to feel the anguish that Nathan must be feeling, to watch a loved being used in such a personal and demeaning way, only to be discarded when the deed was done.

"To hell with the way things are!" Nathan snapped, feeling his anger boil at the acceptance of another man's brutality simply because the colour of one's skin was different. It was not fair! "I can stand the whipping, the way we're worked to death like dogs, I can even stand that we ain't got no choice with where our children go or the fact that we ain't no more rights over them, then a cat does over her little but this is different! It ain't right to force yourself on a girl no matter what colour her skin! Damn, she's just a child for Lord's sake!"

"I hear you but the evil done to her body can be forgotten, death cannot." Zeus tried to convince the youth even though it was impossible and they both knew it.

Nathan had to convince Zeus. Now that the old man knew about Rebecca, his assistance was absolutely essential. He had to cooperate or else Nathan would be forced to take extreme measures and the future healer was prepared to do that to save his sister. He would not be proud of himself after doing it but remembering the image of Rebecca in his arms, all bloody and bruises after Serfonteine was done with her was enough to make him commit any act of savagery. He had not meant for Rebecca to hear this but he had no choice, he had to reach Zeus somehow.

"If I told you that Serfonteine would kill my Becky because his idea of pleasuring himself with a woman is to beat her so bad that she'd bleed to death, would that make you understand why we have to go?"

An audible gasp escaped the canvas where Rebecca had heard and Nathan closed his eyes, wishing he had not been forced to reveal that particular truth.

"You don't know that." Zeus retorted.

"Yes, I do." Nathan swallowed hard. "The same way I know that three months from now, there will be war between the north and the south. It will go on for five years and the south will fall and we will be free at last. All of us except my Becky because she would have died tonight." He met Zeus' eyes with a secret plea for help. "I need you to turn the other way Zeus and let us go. I don't want to hurt you but to save my sister from the Master, I'm willing to do anything."

Zeus looked at the young man before him, wondering if Nathan had not gone quite mad but the belief in his eyes at what he said made Zeus reach deep within his own heart to make a leap of faith in the impossible. "You really believe what you're saying don't you?"

"I do." He nodded.

Zeus did not answer and Nathan took his silence to mean that the old man was contemplating his request and thus Nathan did not push for an answer at the present time. He understood what it was he was asking of Zeus and knew that it was no light request. Even if Nathan did knock Zeus out and promoted the fantasy that Zeus had not let them go willingly, there was nothing to say that Serfonteine would not punish him just out of anger and a desire to take his vengeance out on someone. Zeus was not a young man and his ability to take corporal punishment was not what it was. In any case, it was a big thing to ask of any man and Nathan could understand if Zeus refused just as he hoped Zeus would realize what that would mean if he did.

Reidsville was like any other southern town in Georgia and when two black slaves made their entrance into the town, whether or not it was permissible, there was always white folk keeping a close eye on them. Nathan stayed close to Zeus, knowing that the residents of the town would be used to seeing the old man out on his own from previous errands that he would have run for the master.

Meanwhile, Zeus kept silent, keeping Nathan on tenterhooks as they carried the list of tasks that needed doing. Their day saw them visiting several places in town, getting supplies from the hardware, grain and general stores. All of it was loaded into the back of the wagon, where Rebecca remained safely out of sight.

It was permissible for Zeus to be out on his own and even tolerable that he should have an assistant in Nathan but for Rebecca to be out in the open would immediately arouse suspicion and they could not afford that while the sun was still out. As it was, Rebecca had avoided going to the house by telling Milly, another house slave that she was required to accompany Mrs Serfonteine to the Lamont residence.

Mrs Serfonteine was due to be gone for most of the day so it would be a while before Rebecca's disappearance was discovered. Nathan hoped to be well on their way before the Master could organize a search party to go looking for them. With any luck, Serfonteine would wait until after Zeus had returned with Nathan so that he could be questioned on his sister's whereabouts before proceeding on the search.

The sun was starting to set in the horizon when the wagon finally left Reidsville and began its long journey towards Avalon once again. Zeus had still not given him an answer and Nathan was starting to get worried that the man might have changed his mind about helping them. They were almost an hour into the journey when Zeus finally turned to him. The old man had brought the wagon to a standstill near a particularly remote track of road flanked by a dense growth with the sounds of a river rushing somewhere in the distance.

"Get out." He told Nathan. "You too Rebecca."

As Nathan climbed off the wagon, Rebecca emerged from her hiding place under the canvas. Zeus did the same thing and peeked under the canvas to the supplies stored in the back tray. He rummaged through the content before surfacing a moment later with a bundle of stores they would need on their journey, including a rather heavy horseshoe that had rusted and been discarded in the back for some time.

"This will last you for a few days," he said handing the bundle that contained some bread and dried meat. "Stick to the river, the dogs won't pick up the scent and move by night. Fewer people see you that way."

"Thank you," Rebecca said embracing Zeus hard for the kindness he was bestowing upon them. This would severely upset his privileged standing with the Master and she hoped Zeus would not suffer too much for this. "How can we thank you?"

Zeus tried not to smile but he knew of her sunny disposition and could well understand why her brother would do anything to protect her. "I don't know whether I'm doing the right thing by you. I ain't doing you no kindness if you're caught."

"Thank you, Zeus," Nathan said genuinely appreciative of the advice and the stores. "We'll never forget you."

"Well don't be so quick to leave," he handed the horseshoe and turned his back to Nathan. "You know what to do."

Nathan nodded and took a deep breath. "I reckon I do."

"I'm stronger than I look," Zeus explained. "You put enough of a dent in my head and I can tell the master I was knocked out for some time, maybe I can throw them off your trail a little."

"Don't go doing more than you got to," Nathan said. "You done enough for us."

"Don't you worry," Zeus said quickly. "There ain't much more he could do to me and I'd be happy knowing your sister is away from him."

Nathan nodded in understanding and swung hard. He slammed the piece of metal against the back of the man's head. Zeus let out a single gasp of pain before he dropped to his knees and collapsed on the side of the road. Nathan quickly went to examine him, hoping that he had not hurt Zeus too badly. There was a sizeable lump on his back of his head and a little bit of blood where the skin was broken. Zeus would be out for no more than a few minutes and the bruise would lend support to Zeus' story. Lifting the old man, he placed Zeus back in the wagon before joining Rebecca who was hiding in the safety of the thick wood.

"Come on," he said taking her hand as they started the long journey to Kentucky where salvation awaited in the form of a preacher who had a little trouble turning the other cheek and went by the name of Josiah Sanchez.

************

INEZ

Inez finally dared to climb out of bed when her mother was gone.

She did not know what was happening but she knew she did not like it. While she liked the idea of being home again, of having everything that had happened in her life since Don Paulo's son took an interest in her, erased from existence, she knew that this was not how it should be. Without Paloma's presence, she was able to make a careful examination of her room, unhindered by worrying how it would look to her mother. As she scoured through her belongings and studied the trinkets that branded this place as her own, Inez knew, without doubt, she was exactly where she appeared to be, at home.

Paloma had gone off to work in the Don's house with Calla and Inez was grateful for the solitude. The sultry barmaid still had no idea how she had come to be home, despite her mother's insistence that she had never been away. Yet the memory of all that had transpired since the night of the festival was clearer in her mind than the reality her mother claimed was real. However, it was not simply that she had lost the friends acquired since her departure or the life she had made for herself in Four Corners that bothered her most but the child she had been carrying inside her body for some weeks now.

Even though her mother claimed she had never been to Four Corners to conceive the baby, Inez could still feel its loss permeating through every corner of her being. Her insides felt empty after the constant worry she had felt over its existence. When Inez thought of all those nights when she had lain awake in her bed, trying to decide what to do only to have it mysteriously vanish this way, she found that there was no joy to be had in that. With shame, she realized that however this had happened, impossible as it was, she had been the direct cause of it. Did she not in her darkest hours of despair wish the innocent babe within her gone?

Well now it was gone and she wanted it back.

She wanted it back so badly she could not imagine how she could have wished it gone in the first place. It was not just her child but Buck's as well and while in comparison, the child she had carried was probably more mature than its father, Inez felt as if she had stolen his right to know with the wish that had allowed this to happen. At this moment, Inez would have given anything to have this child back even if it meant finding Buck in Four Corners and doing it the old fashioned way. In any case, she could no longer remain here.

This town was apart of a past that should have been left behind. She did not know how she had come to be here but she knew she could not stay. Whether or not it was a fool's hope to return to Four Corners, to seek out the people she cared about even if they had no idea of who she was, Inez knew she had to try. Even now, she found herself missing Mary Travis and the privilege of knowing the widow was not something she would trade for anything. Sure becoming acquainted with Mary had brought her more grief than humanly possible since the widow attracted trouble with more ease than any person Inez had ever met, but it did keep her life somewhat interesting. From burning down old decrepit mansions, running for dear life from mad cultists who were determined to shake the walls of heaven and earth, not to mention blowing up the occasional bank or hiding out in a brothel, Mary had always kept things exciting.

Inez never realized how much she valued their friendship until it was gone, or in this case, never been. She looked around her room, her gaze taking in the sight of her room and made the decision to leave at dawn the next morning.

Although she was eager to return to her old life, she wanted to spend some time with her mother and sister. Inez made a note to herself that if she ever woke from this insane dream that she found herself, perhaps a visit to home be in order.

Stepping out of her bedroom, Inez moved through the rest of the house that she shared with her mother and sister, Calla. Theirs had been one of the few homes in town that were made of real brick and mortars, not the mud huts occupied by the rest of the villagers. Her father had served with Don Paulo in the war and the house had been a gift in appreciation of their service together. Later on, when he passed on, Paloma had been convinced that the reason why so many men had asked for her hand was so that they could get the house.

Inez left behind the nostalgia of being home for the moment and ventured out into the village, wondering if anything had changed in the past two years of her absence, although as far as anyone was concerned, she had never really left.

She made her way down the winding track that led into the heart of town, passing by Rosita Alvarez, the old woman who always sat on her front step, smiling at anyone who passed by with her toothless grin. No one even guessed how old Rosita was any more but the town would not be the same if she was not sitting in the front step.

Inez waved at the old woman as she walked by, marvelling in all the sights of home that would have been commonplace once upon a time. She saw the square where the children played their games, giggling and chattering as she and Calla had when they were young. The heat of the sun made her squint as she examined the familiar surroundings and Inez realized just how much she missed being apart of this world, even though she had felt it to be a place in her past.

"Hello, Inez." She heard a voice behind her.

Inez looked over her shoulder and to her shock, saw it was Raphael. Raphael was one of Don Paulo's hired guns. Like her father, he had served with the Don and had taken up residence in town after the end of the war. For Inez, it was hard to look at him and not feel pensive, after all, she remembered him as the man who had aided the Don's son in his relentless pursuit of her across the border. However, Raphael had always been a man of honour as he had so proved when he had saved her life and Buck after the duel.

"Raphael." She greeted, trying not to sound apprehensive at the sight of him.

"You are feeling better?" He said as he fell into step beside her. "Your mother said that you are not well, that perhaps you were with fever."

"No," she shook her head in response. "I was not feeling well but it was nothing as serious as all that. I just needed to rest a little."

"A breath of fresh air always helps." He smiled at her and Inez was somewhat surprised at how different Raphael looked when he was not wearing the sombre expression he often did when riding with the Don or the rest of the men in his employ.

"I have a confession to make," Inez replied, "I'm feeling better but I don't feel like working today." She flashed him a look tinged with a little guilt.

"I think we all have days where we just want to disappear somewhere," Raphael answered, his smile settling back into a casual manner that Inez had never noticed before. Before the ugly incident with Don Paolo, she had often seen him around the main house. He always seemed distant and solitary, a far cry from Guillermo and the other men that worked for the Don. He was a source of much speculation to the women of the village, who saw him as one of the most eligible men in town. Inez had to confess to never being one of those but now that she thought about it, she felt a certain level of curiosity about him.

"Where do you disappear to?" She asked.

"Out there," he looked towards the horizon beyond the village. "Where it is quiet and a man can just become lost in all that space."

"That sounds nice." Inez sighed, following his gaze as they both walked through the heart of town, neither appeared to have any particular destination. "There's a big world outside this place. I think I would like to see some of it."

"No dreams of being a good wife and mother?" He teased slightly.

Inez laughed, unable to blame him for such assumptions because traditionally that was the ultimate goal of most women in town, to snare themselves a husband and raise a household of children. "Not at this moment." She replied, even though she knew it was a little bit of a lie because she wanted dearly to have back the child she and Buck had conceived.

"I noticed," Raphael admitted after a long pause, unable to deny that he had always been attracted to Inez. She was, without doubt, the most stunning woman in the village but she had no concept of using that beauty to better her situation. Women like that were to be admired because they had virtue and strength of character that elevated them beyond the ordinary. "You do not seem to be the kind that likes the quiet."

Inez found herself blushing under the penetrating gaze of his dark eyes. It was so easy to see why the rest of the village's female population was so enamoured when he looked at her so. He was very compelling and it pained her to think that in the reality she remembered, his devotion to honour would make him a hunted man. However, Raphael had wanted to find his own path after the death of Paulo's son and leaving Four Corners seemed like the best way to do that even though Inez always had the impression that Chris Larabee would have liked him to remain.

"I do not wish to be living a life fraught with constant danger either," she found it necessary to point out after a few seconds of reflection. After all, is that not what her life had been since arriving in Four Corners? She had known the worst of men and she had also known the best of them from that little town in the heart of the Territory. Her rape surfaced most acutely then and Inez felt a slight shiver of cold running through her spine as the memory of that terrible day flashed in her mind. "Perhaps a little bit of excitement every now and then would make me appreciate the boring days."

"I cannot offer much in the way of excitement," Raphael said turning to her. "However, would you like to go for a ride?"

Inez did not know what to say for a moment, staring blankly at him because the offer was so unexpected. It never occurred to her that his interest was that way inclined. Inez had always thought Raphael was merely being polite, not at all motivated by some deeper emotion. Her first impulse was to refuse him but as she gazed into his eyes and saw that it had taken a lot of soul searching for him to make the request of her, she found that she could not.

"Yes," Inez found herself agreeing and hope she knew what she was doing. "I'd like that very much, Raphael."

God, she really hoped she knew what she was doing.

*********

JOSIAH

Josiah tried to remember the conversation.

He had found himself a secluded corner of the greenery surrounding the church so that he could gather his thoughts and decipher the clues left behind in his memory. It was a long shot, he knew that. However, for the moment, it was the only explanation he had of how this could have happened and he had to focus his mind as he had never done before. As a man of the cloth, it had always been a contradiction that Josiah believed in neither magic nor fairy tales when the entire course of his life was based on the absolute faith of what could not be seen. Yet he had learned in recent years that there were things unseen that were very real indeed.

In the incident that none of the seven would discuss openly, they all remembered Darien Lambert who had come across time from the future to save the human race from genocide. Like others, Josiah had seen the mechanical monster that had sought to end Chris Larabee's life. If that alone was not proof of greater things beyond their understanding, nothing was. This was not so hard to believe even he was basing his entire theory on how he had come to be a preacher on the strength of one conversation. Until the thought had crossed his mind only a short time ago, Josiah would not have given the conversation second thought but the fact was, it seemed to be the only explanation for what had taken place.

It had been his watch at the jailhouse and rather than spend the entire day indoors when it was a perfectly beautiful day outside, Josiah had opted to sit out in the sun, reading a good book with his feet up. Josiah was lost in the adventures of Don Quixote when he saw Billy Travis crossing the street, headed towards the jailhouse. At first, the preacher had believed Billy had come in search of Chris since the gunslinger was now the boy's stepfather, although Billy still called Chris by name. Josiah had a feeling that was probably at Chris' behest rather than Billy's.

He had grown an inch or two since his last visit to Four Corners and Josiah felt inordinately old that time was passing so quickly when the youth before him seemed to transform before his very eyes. Billy approached the preacher with purpose and immediately inspired Josiah's curiosity at what could possibly make an eight-year-old so serious about anything. Of course, Billy was not a normal eight-year-old child. Billy had seen more than any child his age ought to have given witness to, what with seeing his father killed and later on, keeping the burden of that guilt inside his heart for so long. It had made him grow up faster than he should have and it was evidenced in his eyes which seemed old by normal standards.

"Josiah, can I talk to you?" He asked upon reaching the preacher turned lawmen.

"Certainly," Josiah answered, properly intrigued. "Why don't you pull up a chair?"

Billy nodded and pulled the chair that was almost the same size as him next to Josiah as if what was to be discussed was extremely important and could not be held lightly. After sitting down and getting comfortable, Billy turned to the preacher once more and said in a very quiet voice, as if he was afraid of anyone paying attention. "Josiah, do you believe in magic?"

Josiah tried to hide his surprise because he had expected the subject to be of a spiritual nature and to some extent important enough on an adult level because of the manner in which Billy had conducted himself until this moment. "It depends," he said neutrally. "There are many different kinds of magic. Some men say that looking into the eyes of a good woman is magic, while others believe there is magic in seeing the stars twinkle."

"I mean real magic." The boy said impatiently. "You know," he looked around to see if anyone was about before he revealed any more. "Like with witches and stuff."

"Oh, that kind of magic." Josiah nodded in understanding. "Well, I don't know." He answered, trying not to sound condescending. "I believe there is a lot we do not know about the world. Witches are greatly misunderstood by people. There was a time that any woman who was smarter than she ought to be was immediately branded a witch because she knew things about herbs and medicines."

"My friend Lily says that magic is real and that there are good witches and bad witches." Billy pointed out, wanting clarification on this matter because he attended church on a regular basis, either with his mother or his grandparents and the general consensus had been that witches were agents of evil. Yet his friend Lilith claimed to be a witch and she did not seem to be evil so this only served to confuse him even more.

"I think she is right." Josiah agreed, wondering how the schoolmistresses' daughter could have such strange ideas. Of course, Josiah had never met Audrey King himself, even though she had been much talked about during the weeks since she had settled in Four Corners. The woman had high flouting ideas, they said.

Josiah had the impression that the more rigid citizens of Four Corners found Audrey somewhat flamboyant for their tastes. Meanwhile, Julia and Mary had found the woman to be perfectly fascinating. Although if she was somewhat eccentric, it was no wonder she permitted her daughter to believe herself to be a witch when a more Christian woman would be sending the child to a nunnery to purge her of such unclean thoughts.

"I think that magic is just magic and a witch is just a witch," Josiah replied, answering Billy's question. "What she uses the magic for makes her good or bad."

Billy sat there in silence for a moment, ruminating on what Josiah had told him. "So it's not a sin if you use magic for something good."

"I don't think so," Josiah remarked, understanding why Billy had come to him about this question. Obviously, the child wanted to know whether or not it was spiritually sound to dabble in such things. Of course, the whole thing was nonsense and merely the kinds of fanciful beliefs that made childhood such a time of wonder. There was no harm in the boy believing in such superstition.

Besides, the realities of life would strip him of such innocent marvels when he grew older, Josiah saw no reason to make that happen any sooner than it should. "Nothing is a sin if you believe in your heart you are doing the right thing and harming no one by doing it."

"I ain't gonna harm no one," Billy said with a smile. "I just wanted to know that's all."

He had just wanted to know because he was going to do something, Josiah realized now.

A part the preacher still believed this was a dream. That it could be nothing else. However, the proof lay all around him and even though he had no reason to believe a child's wish had brought about this shift in reality, Josiah had nothing else to go on. His life was far from perfect and here, he was the kind of preacher he always wanted to be. To have a congregation, to be respected by the community and to do the Lord's work with nothing more than unyielding faith to assist him, it was all Josiah ever wanted in his life.

Except he had not done this himself.

He was here because a child had wanted him to have his fondest wish. Josiah understood that now. This place was what he had always wanted and what he now had. Somehow, something had allowed that dream to be a reality. Unfortunately, it was a reality that should not have been. How could he appreciate anything here or be the man the flock needed him to be when he had not journeyed the path that led him here but had been merely thrust into the role. The dreams that were best savoured were the ones accomplished through sheer force of will. It meant nothing when it was simply given. Josiah had not become the preacher he always wanted to be, he had merely been presented the fruits of what might have been.

Josiah wanted his life back. He wanted his friends and the church he had been trying to restore to its former glory. He took pride in the filling of every crack in its pitted walls, in repairing the old pews left to become dilapidated with time. Bringing that place to life with his own hands had been the closest that Josiah had come to feeling fulfilled and he did not want it replaced with this idyllic reality that held no more substance for him than a fading dream he woke up with, in the morning. Unfortunately, he had no idea how he was going to change things back to normal.

Josiah was tempted to go find Billy, to make the boy undo what he had done but somehow, instinct told him that was not the answer. Billy had merely brought the wish to the altar. Josiah believed his participation did not extend beyond the desire. The girl child Lilith, with her grand ideas of being a witch, was most likely the culprit who had brought Billy's wish to bear and created this fantasy that Josiah now found himself trapped within. It was likely that the others were suffering similar ordeals or pleasures, depending on what their dreams might have been.

Billy, like all children, believed that adults had wishes like they did. A horse, a toy, the return of a loved one, these were the scope of a child's imagination.

Unfortunately, adults were another thing entirely. Their dreams were darker, more potent and experience clouded the sheer honesty of a child's wish with neurosis and traumas gathered from a lifetime of existence. Without even knowing what the others were dreaming about, Josiah knew he had to free them as much as he needed to free himself. For if the world he now found himself appeared seemingly pleasant for him, it may not be necessarily so for the others.

The others might be enduring nightmares that he could not possibly imagine.

Realizing this only made Josiah more determined to get a start on finding some way out of this present predicament. As he had already guessed, Billy was not the key to this even though it was his will that had brought this insanity about. It was Lilith King's knowledge that had transformed a simple wish into something terrifying. Perhaps not for Josiah himself but certainly for the others. As he left the calming influence of the scenery around him, Josiah made his way back to his church.

He had to think of this logically if he was to be any help to his friends. If Josiah was to assume that he had never strayed from the path and kept faith with the life that he had chosen for himself, then he would never have taken that trip to the north almost fifteen years ago. His stomach hollowed at the thought because the ramifications of that had more far-reaching consequences then he realized. If he did not make the trip north, then he would not have found Nathan Jackson, half-dead from his master's whip and exhausted from an escape attempt. Nathan would have died where he had fallen, ravaged by fever until he was killed by the sickness or the master who found him.

If Nathan died fifteen years ago then Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner would have never saved him from a lynching and the seven would cease to be. All the lives and people they had helped would evaporate as surely as if Josiah had put a bullet to their heads and pulled the trigger. Josiah felt his throat dry from the enormity of that realization. Somehow, all that had to take place again or Josiah would never again know peace.

Somehow, he had to find Lilith King.

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