CHAPTER ONE It was one of Teaspoon’s few prized possessions and he felt obliged to straighten the framed photograph whenever it went awry. Even before he’d moved into the bunkhouse lean-to to keep a better eye on the Hickok kids, when he’d allowed the rest of the tack room to grow dust as it pleased, he kept the picture immaculate. Just now, as he passed it on his way to the jail, he felt the need to nudge a corner back into place, and then noticing it was dusty, he grabbed a nearby rag and wiped it slowly off. He could not help but smile, looking down on his nine grandkids. The picture was taken ten years before, the last time they’d all been in the same place, but the fine people they’d grown into were already there, smiling (or scowling as the case may be) out at him. The four girls sat in front, trying to be ladies but only Rachel succeeded, perched at the edge of her seat, her dress tidy, her eyes demure. Next to her, Kit was abundant in frills, and ringlets so perfect they looked chiseled in stone. It took an expert eye to notice the jaw full of candy, and the sticky stream of saliva that trickled out of the corner of her mouth. And anyone could see the way the heel of Kit’s high buttoned little boot was ground into the instep of the girl sitting next to her. Some things never change, Teaspoon thought with a chuckle as he looked at Little Lou Hickok, where she sat, glaring at the camera as much because she was forced to wear a dress as because Kit was tormenting her. Her stockings were dirty and her knees scraped, and her hand wound into the back of Kit’s ringlets in fury. Next to Lou was Leigh, and she might have managed to look ladylike, except for the hound dog that was half in and half out of her lap, and licking her chin ecstatically. Behind Leigh was her brother, Isaac, his face tilted downwards, his dark eyes looking up at the camera. At four, he was the littlest and he shied away from the other boys, one hand on his sister, one nervously fingering his earring. Next to him were the Hickok twins, their arms around each other’s shoulders, each looking like a miniature replica of their father. Hunter, who stood closest to Isaac, had his thumb jammed in his pocket, his brow brought low, his jaw set; it was his “tough face”. His twin, Will, couldn’t manage to look tough for long, his eyes and his smirk belied the toad in his pocket that he would shove down Kit’s dress the minute the picture had been taken. Beside them, tall and thin, was their older brother, Noah, peering out of round spectacles, businesslike. Behind them all, his hands grasping his collar pompously, was Jacques, already seventeen, his hair slicked back, his smile wide, his Sunday suit starched and snappy. Teaspoon gave the picture one last nudge and with a smile left the room. Today, he thought, they’d all be back together again – well, provided Hunter didn’t decide to be entirely recalcitrant that is. They’d grown up pretty well in Teaspoon’s mind. He hadn’t had as much truck as he’d have liked with Kit, and he sometimes feared that Little Lou was right in her assessment that Kit was a “spoiled snob”, but perhaps time had softened Kit’s arrogance – it had her father’s. And it still puzzled and bothered him that Jacques was working as Rock Creek’s marshal, despite repeated offers from his grandparents in Boston to pay for a college education. And if the Hickok twins kept up their current shenanigans, working as strong-arms and card sharps at the Painted Pony, using their guns to play Robin Hood just this side of the law, there would be hell to pay. Teaspoon shrugged off the nagging worry. It had been twenty-two years since he’d found himself afflicted with the paternal spirit, and just when he’d thought his worries over his boys were over, they presented him with equally troublesome children. He smiled with pride as he crossed the street, his boys had done alright for themselves in the end and no matter the worries he was nothing but thankful for his family. And some of the kids didn’t require worrying. Noah Hickok ran the Rock Creek Reporter with good sense and his dedication to the truth would have made his father, a man undone by lies, proud. And Leigh, the last three years had seemed barren without her in Rock Creek. Today she was coming home a bona-fide doctor. Teaspoon’s chest puffed out with the thought and he strutted a little as he continued up the boardwalk. He didn’t have time to ruminate over the remaining kids, as he collided with Jacques at the jail door. “Whoa, son, hold on there,” the old man said to the harried and hurried marshal. Jacques didn’t stop moving, just winked at Teaspoon as he dashed backwards down the street, “Can’t be late, Teaspoon! Miss Kit wouldn’t stand for it!” ¨¨¨ The three buildings were framed in the train window like the bucolic work of a Flemish painter. In the left-hand corner stood the Cross home with its sky blue shutters, it’s stables cut out of the picture, belonging to the next seat’s window. Below the Cross house and in the center of the pane, the clapboard house that Rachel Dunne had called her own gleamed bright white against the prairie grass. Outside bright roses planted by her namesake bloomed pink and yellow and a distinctive paint horse stood stolidly at the hitching post. Nearby, lying low and with nary a spot of color – no paint, no colored curtains, no flowers, sat the old bunkhouse where the Hickok kids had grown up under the watchful eye of Teaspoon. Leigh leaned her forehead against the window, watching her breath make frosty circles on the glass as the familiar landscape went by. Next to her, all pink ribbons and blonde curls, her baby blue eyes closed tight, Kit Cody snored in a most unladylike fashion. There was no way for Leigh to have known that as she slept, Kit dreamt of the same scene. The same three homes with their distinct attitudes that marked the families that lived there. But in Kit’s dream there was a fourth house, with a broad veranda and climbing honeysuckle and a room she called her own with windows that looked out on the expanse of grass and horizon that spilled across the earth. In a moment the train had left the place behind and out of sight, and the growing town of Rock Creek slipped into sight. The sky was gray and everything seemed to be sapped of color and vitality. While at school Leigh had keenly felt homesick for a place of wildflowers and sweet breezes – not the still, turgid town that reared up in front of her. The train squealed into the station and Leigh clamped her eyes shut against the sound. When she opened them, she looked out the window to see Jacques grinning goofily up at her. The abrupt stop jolted Kit from her slumber and she leaned over Leigh, looking out at the humble station. She wrinkled her pert little nose, “This isn’t it, is it?” Leigh nodded silently and gave Kit a little shove to get her out of her seat. Kit stood up with a disgruntled look on her face, “I didn’t remember it being so…provincial,” she said airily. Leigh wasn’t listening. She retrieved her bag from the compartment above their seats while Kit pulled on her gloves and adjusted her outrageously feathered hat; subtlety not being a word the Cody family recognized. The two girls made their way off the train and before Leigh was even sure her feet had touched the ground she found herself swung in the air by two strong arms as Jacques wrapped his little sister in a hug. He deposited her back on the ground and held her at arm’s length, “Little sister, did you get taller in Saint Louis?” Leigh laughed, “I don’t think so.” Kit elbowed Leigh quickly, “Emily, aren’t you going to introduce us?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the young marshal in front of them. Leigh stifled a sigh, “My name’s not Emily,” she muttered, and then with a shake of her head added brightly, “You know Jacques, Kit.” Kit turned an astounded stare on Leigh, “This is your brother?” She looked back at Jacques, “I would never have recognized you…you’re so, so….mature.” Jacques laughed and shot a sidelong glance at his sister, “Uh, yeah…I don’t usually pull pigtails anymore that’s for sure.” The badge on his chest flashed in the sun and he signaled the porter to the waiting wagon. “Think you can get the two of you out to the house in one piece, Leigh?” She furrowed her brow, almost pouting, “Aren’t you coming out with us?” Jacques took his hat off and swiped his hand across his brow, “Wish I could. Those Hickoks are always making work for me though.” Leigh laughed, “What are they up to now?” Jacques sobered for a minute, “Hunter’s missing, which has Little Lou in a fit. I had to lock her up.” “You what?” Leigh all but shrieked. Jacques grinned sheepishly, “She was going to run off half cocked, as usual, and her brothers and I are tired of having to run after her. This way she can cool down in safety until Hunter shows up again.” “Louise Hickok is a hooligan. That much I do remember from the last time I was here,” Kit pronounced grandly. Leigh started at the sound of her voice, she’d almost forgotten Kit was there. “I know Lou remembers you too,” muttered Jacques as he walked the two girls over to the waiting wagon. “I don’t see any reason why, if she’s already locked up, you can’t accompany us,” Kit batted her long pale eyelashes at Jacques. It was an effective technique. Jacques smiled grimly, “I don’t think it would be nice of me to leave her in jail alone with Teaspoon. She’ll be so full of wisdom by the time Hunter shows up again she’ll have a bellyache. And since what happened with Diamond, well, she’s been getting her fair share of Teaspoon’s lectures.” Kit huffed angrily, “Let the punishment fit the crime, I say.” “There’s no crime, Kit,” Leigh responded, “besides being hot-tempered. Besides it’s not a far ride, and I’m more than capable of getting us there.” She clambered into the wagon, while Kit remained below, looking at Jacques and extending her tiny, gloved hand. Jacques helped her into the wagon and gave a wink to his sister, before they pulled out of the station and headed home. ¨¨¨ Kit had been unordinarily quiet since they left Jacques, but some minutes outside of town she spoke again, “Does everyone think I’m awfully spoiled, Emlee?” “You are spoiled, Kit,” Leigh answered with a good-natured grin. “No, really, now. I was an awful child, I know it. And I probably seemed like a stuck up little priss to your brother. I would like for people to like me, you know.” Kit sighed and stare out at the bunkhouse as it edged into sight, “I’ve always been very jealous of all your stories of everyone when you were all little. You were such a jolly little gang, getting into scrapes and playing Indian, while I was stuck in charm school and at society teas. And you all know how to do things, even you girls can ride and shoot and all sorts of exciting things.” “You can ride, Kit. And you’re almost as good with a rifle as your Dad.” Kit stuck her lip out petulantly, “That’s just trick-shooting, for the show. It isn’t anything real.” “Well, I’m not sure that most of us do more than that. I don’t even know the last time I used a gun. And Rachel was always a little helpless with them.” Leigh squinted at the bunkhouse as it edged into sight, trying to make out who was standing on the porch. She could make out her father’s easy and alert stance, and Noah Hickok leaning against the wall. The other figures were partially blocked by the two men , and she couldn’t be sure who they were. She kept the wagon on course towards the bunkhouse instead of her parents’ home a few miles north. “The Hickoks use their guns all the time. Louise even killed a man.” Kit said as she adjusted her hat. “Please, Kit, don’t bring up Diamond. It doesn’t sit easily with anyone, and I’m sure Little Lou doesn’t want to hear anything more about it,” Leigh said warily. Leigh waved at her father and Noah as they walked out towards the wagon. “What’s got you thinking about stuff like that anyway? You know that everybody can be pretty prickly on the subject.” “I don’t know. I just figured, well, maybe if you could, you know mention that Pop did show me how to use a rifle and ride, and that I’m good at it too, that maybe they all wouldn’t laugh at me so much this time.” Kit looked away and played with the edges of her gloves. Leigh looked over at her as she reigned in the horses and held back her own laughter. “Oh, Kit, nobody’s going to laugh at you. Just try not to complain too much…or brag about how much nicer things are in Saint Louis…or pretend to know things you don’t.” “I don’t do that –“ Kit started with a shocked look in Leigh’s direction. Leigh smiled at her, “Kit,” she said knowingly. The men were at the wagon now, Leigh’s father patting the muzzles of the horses, his dark hair pulled neatly back, streams of silver running through it. He smiled up at his daughter but let Noah help the two ladies down. When they were both safe on the ground and out of Noah’s brotherly hugs, he stepped forward and swept his girl into a bear hug. “Hello, golden girl,” he said affectionately. He looked at her with pride evident in his dark eyes. He turned to his niece, “Kit, nice to see you again.” “Uncle Buck,” the young lady answered politely, “Father sends his best.” Buck nodded in response. Noah put his arms around the girls’ shoulders and started walking them towards the bunkhouse. “We were just talking about the last time you were here, Kit. Remember that?” Leigh grimaced and looked over at Kit, who had assumed a look of haughty aloofness. “Not in any detail,” Kit answered, making it sound as though that summer had been too trivial to be remembered. Noah laughed and grinned at Leigh, “Rachel and I were just talking about how Lou tried to kill you. Surely you remember that?” Involuntarily, Kit snorted in disgust at the mention of the incident. Leigh stifled a chuckle. The story had quickly become a favorite joke after Kit had returned home, a perfect example of her spoiled, dandified ways. She had insulted Little Lou Hickok, nobody now remembered how, and Lou was bent on revenge. Uncle Kid had finally found Kit, tied to a tree just back of the bunkhouse, muddied and scratched, covered in honey and under the impression that when night fell a bear would be by to maul her. Little Lou had gone into gruesome detail when describing the bear to Kit, and for years afterwards bears populated Kit’s nightmares. Lou knew full well there were no bears around, but Kit, with no experience in the west besides the overblown stories of her father, was certain there weren’t only bears, but mountain lions, Indians, and drunken mountain men prowling just out of sight, waiting for their chance to pounce. “I remember that Louise was extremely ill-mannered and boyish,” she answered Noah in a tone of voice that clearly indicated the subject was closed. Noah furrowed his brow, “Well, I don’t know about that,” he said in defense of his little sister but otherwise let it go. They had arrived at the bunkhouse porch, and Leigh found herself pulling away with a squeal and running up the stairs. “Rachel!” she shrieked happily and flung herself into the arms of an equally excited redhead. Rachel McCloud squeezed her tight and exclaimed, “Doctor Emma Leigh Cross! I’m so excited for you, Leigh, to be a real doctor!” Leigh blushed as they pulled away and Rachel’s mother gave her a warm hug. “We are all very excited for you. Your dad’s all but bustin’ out of his clothes he’s so puffed up with pride. And Teaspoon’s been stoppin’ everybody on the street to tell them that his granddaughter, a doctor mind you, is comin’ back home.” The small woman gave Leigh an affectionate pat on the arm before turning to embrace Kit as well. “Kit, you look more like your father every time I see you.” “Thank you, Aunt Louise,” Kit answered back, looking over things with an expression of horror. “Where is everybody?” Leigh asked looking around. Louise sighed sadly, “You saw Jacques, I guess?” Leigh nodded. “He told you about Hunter and Lou?” Leigh nodded again and gave Rachel’s hand a little squeeze. “Uncle Kid and Will are comin’ back from Blue Creek today. They went to see if they could hear anything about Hunter. As far as Will knows that’s where he was headed to ‘do what needs doin’ though God knows what that might mean. And your mother went out to Isaac’s cabin, remind him you were gettin’ back today.” Buck joined them on the porch, having stabled the horses. “And we’re all just sitting around worrying.” Kit sighed irritatedly, “Why all the fuss? Don’t the Hickoks make a point of disappearing from time to time? I thought that’s what they did.” “Not all of us,” said Noah somberly and with a look that should have warned Kit against making any other remarks about his siblings. Buck shook his head, “Hunter’s been gone about a week this time. Usually he’s back in a day or two, and he and Will normally know where each other are. If Will’s worried about his brother, that makes me worry.” Louise shrugged her shoulders, “Hunter is his father’s son. That’s just how things went with Jimmy, leavin’ for longer and longer, no word…” She trailed off with a look at Buck. Frank discussion about Jimmy wasn’t usually tolerated by his children. Noah looked out towards the horizon, gritting his teeth, “Those three are going to be the death of me. Sometimes I wish I could run away from them just like Dad did.” Louise and Buck exchanged looks, a Hickok kid admitting any feeling for their father other than fierce loyalty and admiration was a rarity. Noah continued with a shake of his head, “It’s just a matter of time before one of them gets themselves killed. Maybe Hunter finally did it.” There was a sharp intake of breath from Rachel and both Louise and Leigh reached out hands to pat her shoulders sympathetically. “I would have put my money on Little Lou. To go first, that is,” quipped Kit, oblivious to the hard stares around her. Buck tried to hide the smile that was teasing at the corners of his mouth, “No cause for that sort of talk just yet. Hunter is like his father, which means he’s capable of getting out of any number of tricky situations. Now,” he continued with a smile at his daughter, “let’s get these two girls fed, huh?” ¨¨¨ It was late when Kid and Will returned from their trip to Blue Creek. As they always did in times of crisis, everyone was gathered at the bunkhouse awaiting their arrival. Everyone except Little Lou Hickok who remained in jail, and Jacques Cross who’d stayed in town to keep her company. Even Leigh and Jacques’ little brother, Isaac had shown up earlier that evening, along with their mother. Isaac was generally considered odd. He’d lived on his own since he was fourteen, foregoing the relative comforts of the family home for a his own cabin farther from town. He was a quiet boy, his eyes always seeming to look out farther than the horizon allowed. Their uncle, Red Bear, had long ago said Isaac would become a great shaman and some of the inhabitants of the nearby reservation thought he already had. Isaac was not easily rattled, and the fact that Hunter’s disappearance made his brow furrow made Leigh uneasy. Kid and Will were dusty from their ride and both tried to smack the dust out of their shirts with their hats as they stepped up the stairs and into the bunkhouse. Kid favored his left leg, the result of one arrest too many in his days as marshal. At their appearance, Rachel, who’d been sitting quietly twirling the ring on her left hand, jumped up and ran past her dad to Will Hickok, grabbing his hands in her own. “Did you find him, Will?” she asked desperately. Will shook his head, “Good thing is nobody pointed us towards the cemetery. He hasn’t gotten himself shot that I know of.” Kid sighed and sat down next to his wife, “Some homecomin’ for ya isn’t it, Leigh? More excitement than you reckoned for too, I’d imagine, Kit.” Louise patted her husband’s shoulder, “You look exhausted.” “I feel exhausted. I’m tellin’ ya, I ain’t never seen anyone disappear like this, without even a trace. Buck couldn’t do it. I don’t think even you could have done it, Isaac.” “No way Hunter could’ve done it,” Will added, his thumbs jammed into his gunbelt, a living picture of his father. “Do you know if he was passing by my place on his way to Blue Creek?” Isaac asked suddenly. All eyes turned to him, “It’d be the quickest way,” Will said, “But that’s the way we went and didn’t see nothin’ out of the ordinary.” “See somethin’ out there, son?” asked Teaspoon from his place at the head of the table. Isaac’s brow furrowed even more, “No, just wondering.” But Leigh did not believe him. CHAPTER TWO Nothing was changed by the hours spent marveling at the sudden and complete disappearance of Hunter, the awkward moments when anyone hinted at the similarities to the last years of Jimmy’s life, the weeks, months sometimes, waiting for him to appear again until one day he didn’t; and worry hung thick over everyone’s head as the families slowly parted to go their own ways. Buck re-hitched the wagon and drove Leigh and Kit down the winding road to the Cross ranch just over the hill, Isaac and their mother riding behind. It had been a long day and everyone was tired and silent as they reached the house and the hound dogs that looked at them mournfully from the porch. It was one of the few occasions when Leigh and her mother took advantage of being women and ushered Kit inside, leaving the horses for Isaac and Buck to deal with. Leigh climbed the stairs to her old bedroom, feeling the familiar, cozy sensation of home despite her exhaustion and the worries on her mind. Even Kit seemed more at ease. The young women climbed into their nightclothes in silence, vaguely aware of the sounds of Isaac settling into his own room down the hall and the murmured conversation of Buck and Molly downstairs. Kit clambered into bed, between the bright clean sheets that smelled faintly of lemons and lavender and promptly fell asleep, her tiny rosebud mouth open and a sparkling string of spittle spilling out. Leigh stood at the window, brushing her hair and looking out. Faintly she could see the lamplights in the bunkhouse and Uncle Kid and Aunt Lou’s. She watched as they all were turned out, one by one. The tapping at her door was quiet and might have gone unnoticed, but Leigh crossed the room at once to let her brother in. Isaac was still dressed and he slipped in in silence. “What’s going on?” Leigh whispered quickly, drawing him to the furthest corner from the bed. Isaac shook his head in confusion, “I wish I knew, Leigh. Maybe it’s nothing, maybe Hunter just went off like he always does and it’s taken him longer than usual to get back.” “What’s the other possibility?” Leigh had an uneasy feeling about the whole situation. From the moment the train pulled into Rock Creek, everything had seemed off somehow – as though the familiar home of her childhood had been hastily re-arranged into something uneven and unrecognizable. Isaac looked at Leigh as though he was afraid he was about to be scolded, “I might have sent him somewhere.” Leigh grabbed her brother’s arm, “What exactly do you mean, Isaac Matthew?” she whispered fiercely, looking again back at the bed, relieved to still hear the indelicate sounds of Kit’s snoring. “I was just trying to help Lou out. She’s been really upset ever since she killed Diamond. That and her whole family’s hero-worship of Uncle Jimmy, it was a bad combination, Leigh. She was headed for trouble. Everyone knew. Ask Jacques, ask her brothers. But nobody was doing anything about it besides getting mad at her. She was spending so much time inside that sweat lodge of Teaspoon’s that she practically generated her own heat.” “Get to the point, Isaac.” They both froze at the sound of steps in the hall, heard the door to their parent’s room open and close and then silence. They both began to breathe again. “Look, she came to me, said all she wanted was to see her dad one last time, and I said okay,” Isaac looked at his sister in the silence, his eyes frightened. “You did what?” Leigh said, forgetting to whisper. They both looked over at Kit, who remained peacefully asleep, a pool of drool collecting on her pillow. “Isaac, you know not to mess with that kind of stuff; Dad has told you a million times that you can’t just play around with it. And why in hell would you think that would help her? The last thing Louise Hickok needs is her father. Everybody’s always whispering around about Uncle Jimmy, why can’t we all just say it? The man was a jerk and not much of a father.” “Don’t say that, Leigh,” Isaac whispered back, irritated at his sister. “Obviously Uncle Jimmy didn’t do so well by his kids, but there had to be a reason why he was friends with Dad, and Uncle Kid, and everybody in the first place, right? Anyway, the thing is, I was trying to help Lou out last Friday, and I think I was getting somewhere. I didn’t see anything but I could feel things – nothing definite, nothing real, just a feeling, almost a dream. I stepped out of the cabin and the air was all shimmery, like it was a really hot day, except it wasn’t that hot. I saw a rider to the west, on a palomino, and I swear to God, sis, I thought it was Uncle Jimmy, looked just like him.” “Of course it did,” Leigh muttered, “Hunter and Will could both pass for their father.” Isaac didn’t continue. “So what happened to the rider, Isaac? Where’s Hunter?” Isaac looked at her, “I don’t know. He disappeared. There was a sound like thunder, even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and he was gone, like he’d never been there. The air had cleared up, the birds were singing. I though it was all in my imagination.” “We’ve got to tell someone, Teaspoon, Dad, someone.” Isaac shook his head, “What are we going to say, Leigh? That I sent Hunter to the spirit world? I don’t even know exactly what I did, let alone how to get him back.” There was a brisk knock on the bedroom door and the two of them froze. The door inched open and Jacques peered in, “What are you two whispering about this late at night?” “Jacques, what are you doing here?” Leigh asked, surprised to see her brother away from the jail. “You answer first,” he said with a grin as he walked the rest of the way in, easing the door shut behind him. “Don’t tell…” Leigh cut Isaac off, “Isaac thinks he magicked Hunter out of this world, possibly out of existence.” Jacques arched an eyebrow, a habit he’d picked up from Buck, “That doesn’t seem likely.” “Whether you believe it or not, it happened,” Isaac spat at his brother. The two brothers tended to irritate each other, each an opposite side of the same coin. “Well that discussion will have to be saved for a later time, little brother,” Jacques was not easy to rile up, and he continued on pleasantly, “Little Lou Hickok smacked me on the head with a rifle butt and lit out of town about an hour ago. I’d rather not get Will and Noah looking for her if I can help it. Either of you heard or seen her?” Leigh shook her head, “No, but I guess since we’re not sleeping we can help you look.” “Wait a second,” interrupted Isaac, “We’ve got bigger problems, here, Jacques. What about Hunter?” “You don’t actually believe this do you? You’re a doctor, for Pete’s sake.” Jacques said to Leigh, jerking his thumb towards their brother. Leigh shrugged her shoulders, “Things happen, Jacques, not all of them can be explained.” “Just because you ignore it, doesn’t mean the spirit world doesn’t exist” Isaac grumbled. Jacques turned to his brother, “I’m not ignoring anything. This is the world we live in, Isaac. The real world. If you would try living in it, instead of running away to that cabin - ” “There isn’t any life for me in the white man’s world,” Isaac hissed back. Jacques ran his hand through his hair in frustration, “You could try, Isaac. If you tried, and did the best you could, you’d find out that it isn’t that bad.” “The best I can? Is that what you’re doing, Marshal?“ Isaac looked defiantly into his brother’s face. “Or are you just settling for what you can get? You do everything you can to seem white but it’s never enough is it? You’re still too afraid to do the things you really want to.” Jacques’ voice was even but laced with anger, “I am not afraid! I am practical. You think because you’ve always had Teaspoon and Dad and Uncle Kid and me watching your back that there isn’t a reason to be…cautious. Well, I remember how it was. I remember my mother dying because the doctor wouldn’t touch her and what it was like during the war, when Dad didn’t have friends to help him out. There wasn’t anyone protecting me in the schoolyard, little brother. I’m not going to be foolish enough to think just because some people are used to having Indians around, everyone will be.” He roughly shoved his brother aside. But Isaac would not back down, “Leigh went to Saint Louis, didn’t she? Isn’t she Kiowa?” Jacques would have made a snappy retort about Leigh’s blonde hair but she intervened. The brothers’ argument was an old one and she had long ago given up hope that the two would ever see the other’s point of view. “Why does everything have to come back to this? Do you two even remember what we were talking about earlier?” “Lou,” Jacques said sullenly. “And Hunter,” Isaac added, “We still have to do something about Hunter.” Leigh sighed, “What can we do about it now, Isaac? You don’t have any idea how to get him back. We might as well take care of Lou first.” The younger boy nodded. “I’ll go saddle the horses,” Isaac muttered as he left the room and Jacques turned to follow. Leigh stopped him, “You know he has at least one point.” Jacques stared at her coldly, “And that is?” “You could do better than marshal and you know it.” Jacques looked at her for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders, saying with a grin, “But then what would happen to the Hickoks?” Leigh smiled at him as he left and she hastily began to dress. She was hard pressed not to shriek when she heard the voice coming from the bed, “I’m coming too.” “Kit!” Leigh looked at the blonde as she groggily rubbed her eyes, “Go back to sleep.” “No way, Emlee, I’m not letting you have all the adventure,” Kit stood up and began digging through her bags for appropriate clothes, “You all think I’m a spoiled little princess, but I’ll show you; I can rough it too, you know. Besides,” she added with a devilish smirk, “I’d love Louise Hickok to be indebted to me after I save her life.” Jacques was visibly irritated to see Kit walking out the door with Leigh. “Go back to bed, Kit,” he said curtly. “Kit’s coming with us,” Leigh said with a helpless look at her brother. Jacques started to protest but Kit interrupted, “There’s no use in telling me no. If you go without me I shall wake up Teaspoon and the remaining Hickoks and tell them all about Louise’s transgressions.” Jacques was weighing whether the involvement of the Hickok brothers was really worse than to have Kit with them when Isaac spoke up, “Just let her come, Jacques. She’s not that bad.” Isaac looked at Kit, who found herself embarrassed to feel so pleased at his approval. ♦♦♦ For as long as she could remember, Louise Hickok had been referred to as Little Lou. It was the most convenient way for the adults to distinguish between her and her equally stubborn and fiery aunt, and being the youngest girl from all the families made the name convenient for everybody really, and it stuck in Lou’s craw that even mild acquaintances would address her by it. Isaac Cross was the only one who didn’t and for that reason alone, Lou numbered him along with Will and Teaspoon as her closest friends. But even that triumvirate did not fully understand the complex nature of Louise Hickok. That fact had been driven home a few months earlier, when Will and Hunter had been summoned from the back office at the Painted Pony by a volley of gunfire only to find their little sister standing on the saloon’s porch, gun still unholstered, and Lazy Ted Diamond lying dead in the street. Seventeen year old Louise was by far the fastest gun in the Hickok clan, something her brothers liked to pretend wasn’t true; and in a way it wasn’t because up until then Little Lou hadn’t shot anything more than the occasional deer and antelope. She’d practiced on tin cans, like they all had, but times had changed and there wasn’t much call for gun play – especially when you had three older brothers looking out for you. The reasons why Lou had shot Diamond remained hazy at best for everyone besides Little Lou herself. He’d visited the Painted Pony when he passed through town for years and was on speaking terms with Will and Hunter, was occasionally even allowed a little credit to fill a kitty. The twins didn’t care much for him, he was an oily card cheat and a flashy dresser, but he seemed harmless. Witnesses all agreed that Diamond had reached for his gun, though they also agreed that the likelihood of him using it had seemed slim. Reports were that he and Lou had gotten in a heated argument in the street, Lou finally slugging him and walking away to the Painted Pony when Diamond called her name and drew his gun. Her response had been immediate and deadly. Bystanders claimed Diamond had been laughing when he’d done it, that it seemed less like a threat than a good-natured teasing, but nobody ever questioned a Hickok’s reasons for shooting. What the two of them had argued over was never said. Lou flatly refused to discuss it and no one seemed to have overheard. Teaspoon had needled her a little and had come to the conclusion that it had somehow involved an insult to Jimmy but the details remained obscured. It might have surprised Little Lou Hickok to know that the person who came closest to surmising the truth was Jacques Cross. Jacques had had the pleasure of incarcerating a drunken Lazy Ted Diamond several times over the years and on every occasion the man’s lecherous appraisals of Rock Creek’s women had made Jacques keep a keen eye on the man. It was also evident that, however smarmy he might be to the Hickok boys in person, he had a few choice opinions of their famous father that he kept to himself. It was the combination of the two that Jacques suspected had turned Little Lou lethal, and he was right. Had she known this, Lou might have felt a little guiltier about taking advantage of Jacques’ kindness in allowing her out of her cell. As things stood, she was mildly pleased. She lumped Jacques in the same category as her brother, Noah. They were both on the same side of the fence as all the aunts and uncles who thought she was unforgivably hot-tempered and stubborn and trouble. They were all full of advice and wisdom and it irked Lou to no end. She did not want to be like Leigh or Rachel, certainly not like Kit; she wanted to be like her Dad. She sighed as she rode past Isaac’s cabin. She considered stopping by but didn’t see a light and chose to press on. Jacques, no doubt with her brothers in tow, wouldn’t be long behind her and she was determined to get to the bottom of Hunter’s disappearance. Deep in the pit of her stomach was a cold stone of fear and she remembered what it felt like when her father’s trip up to Dakota Territory had stretched from weeks to a month. He’d left before to “do what needed doin’” and he’d always come back. Even after Teaspoon had moved into the bunkhouse with them, weeks after the letters and money stopped coming, after Noah had cruelly told her that he wasn’t coming back because he’d gotten married again, Lou had looked for his return. Even for some days after Mr. Utter had stood at the door, twisting his hat in his hand, and told Noah that their father had been killed some months before, Lou had started at the sound of an approaching horse and with the blind faith of childhood expected her father to lift her into his arms once again. She wasn’t going to sit idly by and hope that Hunter would ride in again and face the same bitter disappointment when he never did. Up ahead of her she saw the dark silhouette of a rider and horse. Lou slowed and tried to make out the details of the rider as she altered her course to avoid them. “Will?” a familiar voice hollered, “Is that you?” Having recognized the voice, Lou could now make out the paint markings on the horse and she exhaled in exasperation as she spurred her own mount nearer, “What are you doing out here, Rachel?” From atop her horse, Rachel McCloud squinted in the darkness. Vanity forbade her from wearing glasses, which she very badly needed. “Louise? Aren’t you in jail?” “I pulled off a daring escape,” Louise didn’t see any reason to lie. She pulled up beside Rachel, who looked frazzled. She also looked frightened, “Are you headed to Blue Creek? To look for Hunter?” “Thought that’s where I’d start.” “Then you know how to get there?” Rachel clamped a hand down over her straw hat to keep the night wind from blowing it away. Lou nodded in answer to the question. “What are you doing out here, Rachel?” With the exception of Kit Cody, Rachel McCloud was the most unlikely person to decide on a late night ride into adventure; she liked to stay at home and embroider. “The same thing.” Rachel answered, “I just…I got lost, Lou. I’m not much for this sort of thing, you know. But I can’t just sit around and wait for him to get back, it’s driving me crazy. I guess I’m just my father’s daughter.” “Well, you can’t go,” said Lou hastily. “Don’t you tell me what I can or can not do, Little Lou Hickok!” Rachel was also her mother’s daughter, particularly when it came to her temper. Lou was not in the mood to deal with Rachel, “You’re not going with me. You’ll slow me down and I don’t want to have to worry about you if we run into trouble.” “I can take care of myself,” Rachel spat back, irritated. At first she’d been almost glad to see Lou instead of one of the boys. She knew that they would have insisted she return home but Lou was much more likely to help her get to Blue Creek. “I don’t have time to argue!” Lou was looking over her shoulder. She was fairly certain Jacques wasn’t too far behind them and she wished bitterly she had swung the rifle harder. She looked back at Rachel and finally agreed, “Alright, we can go to Blue Creek together, but don’t get in my way, and after Blue Creek you go home, regardless of where I go, or where Hunter is.” Lou knew her Uncle Kid and did not relish the idea of having him on their trail once he realized his daughter had slipped out in the middle of the night. “We’ll see how things go in Blue Creek,” was all Rachel said and she nudged her horse to follow as Lou galloped off in a cloud of dust. ♦♦♦ Rachel’s horse had picked up a stone, and even under ideal conditions, there wasn’t much hope of her and Lou outrunning the three Crosses and Kit Cody, who’d been trick riding since she was ten. Lou cursed at herself as Jacques rode in close and reaching over slowed her horse to a stop. “Leave me alone!” she shouted angrily. “If you want me to leave you alone, you’ll have to swing the rifle harder next time,” he answered, only half angry. He looked over at Rachel with a grin, “I didn’t know you two were in cahoots.” “We’re not!” Lou sputtered, “She got lost. Why don’t you just take her back to Uncle Kid and let me go.” Rachel’s face turned red, “What? Take me back? I didn’t escape from jail, I’m perfectly entitled to go look for my fiancée if I want to.” “How absurd,” muttered Kit under her breath and Little Lou glared at her. “We’re all going back,” Jacques said firmly, “Will and Uncle Kid have been to Blue Creek and they didn’t find anything; none of us are going to find anything different. Rachel, you’ll have to ride double with somebody, that horse can’t take your weight much longer.” “No,” Lou shouted, trying to disengage her horse’s bridle from Jacques’ grip. “I’m not going back; I’m going to find him.” “Louise Hickok!” Jacques shouted back, his temper getting the better of him, “You’re going back with us. Now. I understand that you are worried about Hunter, we all are, but you’re not going to run off and get yourself into God knows what trouble looking for him.” He paused and Lou opened her mouth to speak. “And don’t argue with me, Little Lou, I have no problem knocking you out, hog-tying you and hauling you back against your will.” “But – “ Lou began. Leigh sighed as she helped Rachel up behind her, “Lou, just give in for tonight. Tomorrow morning we can talk it over and maybe come up with a compromise.” “No, we can not,” Jacques said. His sister sent him a look, but it was Isaac who spoke up, “We can’t even get back home before the morning. We can all rest up at my cabin, and in the morning, who knows. Things might have changed, Hunter might be back.” Jacques started to protest but next to him Leigh whispered fiercely, “It only makes sense, Jacques. Maybe Isaac can try to reverse whatever it is he’s done and then we won’t even have to worry about Lou anyway.” Finally Jacques nodded curtly, “That going to work for you Little Lou?” She looked away, “In the morning, I’m not going back home, though. I’m going to Blue Creek.” “We’ll see,” Jacques said and headed their horses back the way they’d come. ¨¨¨ By the time Will had returned from the Painted Pony and noticed the absence of Rachel’s horse from the stable they shared with Uncle Kid, the sky was beginning to be tinted rose and amber. Noah was already awake, having found it difficult to sleep with Hunter missing and Louise in jail. Together, the two of them set out in pursuit of Rachel before her father realized she was missing. Everyone had seen the sort of temper Uncle Kid could get worked into when it came to Rachel’s or Aunt Lou’s safety, and both of the brothers were eager to avoid it. They found her tracks leading to Blue Creek and it did not take them long to realize that they weren’t the only ones on her trail. The way was beaten over with tracks and there was no reliable method for ascertaining whether they belonged to friend or foe. “Looks like we missed out on some adventure last night,” Noah commented as they spurred their horses a little faster. Will nodded, “Yep, looks like it.” “Good thing Little Lou’s in jail. I don’t want to be worried about her and Rachel and Hunter.” They rode on in silence, each thinking of a million unsavory reasons for the current situation. Will spoke, breaking the emerging morning bird-song, “I don’t know that I like Jacques just putting her in jail like that. She has as much right as the rest of us to help Hunter out.” Noah shaded his eyes from the rising sun, “Nah, not Little Lou, she thinks too much with her heart, never uses her head. She’s worse than you and Hunter combined.” They paused as the tracks became indefinable across a rocky creek bed and they both wandered a ways from each other trying to pick up the trail again. Finding it, Will waited for Noah to join him and continued the conversation, “What you think made her kill Diamond? Think it really had something to do with Dad?” Noah pulled off his spectacles and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. In truth he was tired of everything in his life coming back to their father. The man had died, leaving them to fend for themselves. But he would never really die, Noah thought bitterly; he was always haunting the edges of their existence, cursing them with their name and his reputation. “Of course it had something to do with Dad. It’s the only thing that you three care about, isn’t it? Dad’s mistaken reputation.” “Well, it ain’t the only thing,” Will grumbled. “Isn’t it? Why the hell is Hunter missing? Because you and he think you’ve gotta pick up where Dad left off. Saving widows and orphans and everything. Well, I think Dad repented for his misspent youth enough when he was alive; I wish the three of you would stop trying to do it for him now that he’s dead.” Will looked over at his brother, a mixture of fury and shock on his face. “I don’t know what you mean by that, Noah, but I hope it ain’t what it sounds like.” Noah didn’t answer and kept his eyes on the trail ahead, his jaw set. Will kept looking at him, “The way Hunter and I see it, we got saddled with this name, didn’t we? And havin’ the name Hickok comes with a reputation, and if’n we can’t get rid of the reputation we might as well use it for good, right? Just like Dad did.” “Dad ended up a hired gun, just like his reputation,” Noah responded icily. “Just ‘cause he got paid in vegetables more often than money doesn’t change the fact.” “What choice did he have? He didn’t have any more choice than we do,” Will protested. Noah laughed sardonically, “You do too have a choice, and so did he. Don’t you remember what it was like before Mama died? Back in Abilene when he was the marshal? He used to come home at nights for dinner. God, he used to even smile on occasion. Not disappear for weeks and then show up half-drunk and lookin’ like he’d been spendin’ his time in the company of ghosts. And that’s what you and Hunter want to be like? Nothing but a gun and a reputation? And now Lou’s practically becoming the same thing. You know the Omaha paper wrote a whole article on her and Diamond. How she’s faster than even Dad was, a tortured soul, an unpredictable temper.” “I didn’t know,” Will admitted. “Well it’s true. I’m tired of pretending like Dad was a hero. He was a hothead who let his bad luck get the best of him. And I’m not interested in being a lick like him, and I hope to hell Lou changes her mind about him too.” Noah gave his horse a sharp kick and took off, leaving Will to catch up. ¨¨¨ It had been a cozy nap, all six of them in Isaac’s little cabin (Kit, of course, took the bed). Leigh woke up to the smell of coffee and rolled over to see Isaac looking out the door, watching Jacques re-saddle the horses. Isaac’s face was pale and he turned to look at Leigh with a shrug. “I don’t know what to do, Leigh. Everything’s different know and I can’t figure out how to get him back. Jacques doesn’t believe that anything even happened.” Leigh scrambled up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, “Maybe it didn’t.” Isaac shook his head, “No, Leigh, it must have. Before it wasn’t just for Lou – I mean it was, look, the thing is he’d been around, okay? In my dreams, hanging around the bunkhouse when I’d visit, looking in at my window and when I’d get outside he was gone. But he’s not around anymore, at least not today.” “Who? Hunter?” Leigh poured herself a cup of coffee and looked back at the other three who were still asleep. “No, not Hunter,” Isaac said, “Uncle Jimmy.” “Uncle Jimmy?” Leigh looked at her brother in disbelief, “Uncle Jimmy who’s been dead for seven years, Uncle Jimmy? He’s been looking in your window?” “Yes. Not him, but his spirit.” Leigh took another gulp of coffee and nervously smoothed her rumpled hair, “His ghost? Uncle Jimmy’s ghost has been looking in your window?” “Since Diamond died, he’s just sorta been around, y’know,” Isaac reached out and took his sister’s coffee, drank half of it. Leigh laid a hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the eye with concern, “Isaac, what are you talking about?” she asked. “It just seems like he’s got some regrets, Leigh. Like maybe he’s been checking in on his kids, trying to change things. If things had gone differently, he never would have left them like he did. After all, Uncle Jimmy had more problems than Dad or Uncle Kid or Uncle Cody. The whole Wild Bill thing and Aunt Anne dying – I mean who knows how Dad would have been if Mom died.”” His voice trailed off, and Kit snorted loudly from the bed, breaking the silence. “Isaac,” Leigh said softly, “you know Dad would never have left us like that, never.” Isaac did know it and he looked out at Jacques toiling away in the morning sun. “Jacques’ Dad did,” he whispered, “Maybe it was like that. Maybe Uncle Jimmy felt he had to, that if he stuck around he’d be doing them more harm than good. I mean trouble did seem to follow after him.” Leigh jumped a little as a shout came from behind them. “My Dad didn’t leave us for any reason!” Lou’s voice was strangled with tears, “He didn’t choose it – he got killed. He would have come back. He always came back.” “Lou, nobody meant anything –“ Leigh began, but Lou was already pushing past them out the door. Isaac called out after her, “Lou, come back! I think maybe we can fix it!” But Lou kept on moving, not stopping for Isaac, not stopping when Jacques tried to grab her arm. Rachel sleepily joined them at the door. “Lou, where do you think you’re going?” Jacques shouted at her as she mounted her horse and turned it towards Blue Creek, but she didn’t answer. Jacques went to his own horse to pursue her, when Will and Noah rode into view. “Hey!” Will shouted, taking off his hat and waving it at them. “Looks like we missed a party, Noah, not an adventure.” And the two of them galloped the rest of the way to the cabin. Lou had paused long enough when she’d seen her brothers for Jacques to once again get a hold of her horse’s tack. “Maybe they’ve heard something,” Jacques said up to her. Lou didn’t dismount. But she stopped struggling against him and waited for her brothers to get there. Maybe, she thought, they’d distract everybody enough that she could slip away. “What’s everybody doing out here?” asked Will. “Long story,” said Leigh, walking outside and patting the neck of Noah’s horse affectionately. “What brings you two out here?” “Trying to keep Uncle Kid from finding out Rachel’s missing,” Will answered with a wink in the redhead’s direction. “Why isn’t she still in jail?” Noah asked Jacques bluntly, tipping his head towards Lou. “She made a daring escape,” Jacques answered with a grin. “We were all just headed back home.” Lou tried to jerk her horse out of Jacques’ grasp, “You all were headed back. I’m headed to Blue Creek.” “The hell you are,” Will exclaimed. Lou’s face was red with anger, “I am! I’m going to find Hunter, and ain’t none of you gonna stop me.” “Louise, there isn’t any point in running off trying to rescue Hunter,” Noah said quietly, “Now let’s get home.” “I ain’t goin’!” Lou shouted and tried, futilely, to spur her horse right through Jacques. “Yes, you are,” Noah responded coldly, “I’ve had enough of you gettin’ yourself into trouble. It was bad enough Dad got himself killed, now Hunter’s done the same, and I’ll be damned if you do too.” “Hunter’s dead?” Rachel asked shrilly and fainted in the doorway (an extremely lady-like habit of hers that made her mother shake her head in dismay). Will jumped off his horse and ran to her side, “See what you done, Noah? You don’t have to share your prickly mood with everybody else.” “That true?” Jacques asked, relaxing his grip on Lou’s horse. “Did you find out Hunter’s been killed?” Noah shook his head and dismounted slowly, “No, I didn’t find anything out. But we all know that it’s likely true.” Jacques nodded his head slowly and Isaac stepped forward. “No, it’s not,” he said, “I’m sure Hunter’s alive. He’s just not here.” Noah looked at Isaac from under raised eyebrows, “Well you can be optimistic for the both of us, then.” “No, I mean, I know he’s not dead. I just don’t know for sure how to get him back,” Isaac continued despite the warning looks from Leigh and Jacques. “Do you know where he is?” Lou asked eagerly. Isaac nodded, “I think I might. At least I have some guesses.” Jacques interrupted him, “Don’t Isaac.” He let go of Lou’s horse entirely and grabbed his brother’s arm, whispering fiercely, “Don’t give her false hope. There isn’t anyway you did what you think you did. And you yourself said you don’t think you can change it – so just let it go. Lou’s having a hard enough time without you adding to it.” “I want to know!” Lou slipped off her horse and walked over to the two brothers. “You think you know something then you have to tell me.” “No!” Jacques said sternly, “It’s nothing real, Lou. Isaac’s just let his imagination run away with him.” The discussion was rapidly brought to a halt. “Can’t you let a person get their beauty sleep!” yelled Kit as she climbed out of bed grumpily. She looked over everybody and added, “Stop arguing already, and let’s find some breakfast; I’m starved.” ¨¨¨ Kit’s stomach had won the day and they’d all headed back towards Rock Creek, Little Lou assuaged by Isaac’s promise to tell her what he meant as soon as they got back home. Rachel was riding double with Will at the back of the group, still feeling woozy, but relieved to learn that as far as anyone knew, Hunter was still alive. The morning was bright, if chilly, and their horses kept a steady pace towards home. The day’s earlier mood dissipated as the earth warmed beneath the morning sun and they rode in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Jacques looked through the corner of his eye at Isaac, raised his eyebrows mischievously, “Race?” It was his way of apologizing, an attempt to make up for his earlier words. Isaac grinned in return, and the brothers tore off, their horses’ hooves leaving scars across the plain. The others watched them go for only a moment. The sun was bright, the birds were singing, and they were still young. The impulse to dash across the prairie and feel the wind against their faces, through their hair, sweeping across their backs, was too much. They pounded over the trail, breathless and free of the worry that had tugged at their hearts for days. What happened next would become confused in the following days until it just became a vague memory that no one could accurately recall. They all would remember clearly the loud snapping noise that toppled Leigh off her horse backwards, though no one could remember the cause. Noah Hickok had pulled up short to keep from trampling over her and had looked up to realize that where Kit, Jacques, Lou, and Isaac had been riding before him, there was now only open prairie. As Will and Rachel rode up behind them, Noah had just dismounted and was gently pulling Leigh to her feet. When the four of them looked again to the horizon for the others, there they were, their horses stumbling and the riders themselves slouched in their saddles. CHAPTER THREE Hunter woke up with the sort of headache he usually had after a night of strenuous “work” at the Painted Pony. He opened his eyes and saw a gently smiling face looking over him. He did not recognize where he was and so he instinctively reached for his gun, but found it was not where it belonged. The face took his movement for a flinch and laid a cool hand on his forehead. “Just be still now,” it cooed, “Looks like you’ll come around all right.” The face and voice seemed mildly familiar to Hunter, like a distant childhood memory, but despite screwing his eyes shut and concentrating he could not place it. He tried to remember how he’d ended up in the unfamiliar bed, but could only recall that he’d been headed to Blue Creek. The face spoke again, “Bet you’re hungry. Feel like you could eat somethin’?” “Yes, mame,” he croaked. He sat up unsteadily, realized he felt a little queasy. “Just call me Emma,” the woman said and offered an arm to help him up. Embarrassed, Hunter accepted it, as he slowly rose to his feet. Already the nauseous feeling was fading and after a few tentative steps towards the table, Hunter managed to get the rest of the way on his own power. The room was a bunkhouse, not unlike the one he’d grown up in. Bunkbeds against three walls, a central table and kitchen. Discounting the single bed he’d been in, the beds were rumpled and personal belongings dangled from bedposts and off of mattresses. He sat down at the table and gladly took the stew Emma put in front of him. She sat down across from him and smiled, Hunter was sure he’d seen her somewhere before. “Got a name?” she asked pleasantly enough. “Hunter,” he answered and paused. The past had taught him not to announce himself as a Hickok without seeing the lay of the land first. So he used the name he always used when he wasn’t sure he was talking to someone he could trust. “Merriweather. Hunter Merriweather.” “Well, Mr. Merriweather, you got folks somewhere that we should get word to ‘bout where you are?” Hunter held his spoon in mid-air. The question caught him off guard; he didn’t usually find himself around strangers who concerned themselves with his wellbeing. “Nope. Just my brothers, but they shouldn’t be worried,” he thought about this and then added, “Uh, mame, I don’t remember exactly how I got here.” Emma laughed and patted his hand warmly, “Well, let’s get that cleared up right now. You came ridin’ in here two days ago, dead asleep. Your horse looked just about as tired. You’ve been knocked out cold on that bed ever since.” “Two days?” The spoon clattered into the empty bowl and Hunter stood up quickly, “Thanks for your hospitality, mame, but I’ve got to get to Blue Creek.” Emma had jumped up as well and she pushed him firmly back into his seat, “You just sit back down. Doc Tate said you were plum tuckered out. Exhausted and half-starved. I’m not lettin’ you go on a ride like that when you just woke up. Whatever’s in Blue Creek’s gonna have to wait.” “No, mame, I’m afraid it can’t. I really appreciate everything you done for me – ‘ Hunter tried to get up again but Emma kept her hands firmly on his shoulders. “If it’s that urgent, we can send one of the boys to look into it. You’re in no condition to go on a ride like that.” “No, mame, I can’t send no one else.” Something occurred to Hunter and he looked around the room, feeling a tiny flare of panic, “Uh, mame, where’s my gun?” Emma eyed him with something like suspicion, “It’s hangin’ by the door. When you’ve rested up a bit, you can take it and get on down to Blue Creek.” She shook her head sadly, “Boys and their guns,” and she refilled his bowl. Hunter was out of his element and unsure of what to do. So he started to eat his second bowl of stew. The door opened and four boys a few years younger than Hunter walked in. They were talking and jostling each other as they strode in. The one in the lead stopped dead when he saw Hunter, and Hunter choked on his stew. It was like looking in the mirror, the same lank mousy hair, the same flinty eyes and square jaw. “Wow, Jimmy, I didn’t know you had a twin,” said a tall blond from the doorway. ¨¨¨ Everybody else shrugged it off as a strange coincidence. Granted a very strange coincidence; and there was no denying that Sam and Teaspoon eyed Hunter’s custom rig with suspicion, enough so that they’d sent Kid out to Blue Creek to see what exactly was waiting there for Hunter Merriweather. Hunter himself felt more than mildly uneasy at the unexpected turn of events. Nothing made sense to him and no amount of thinking was making it any clearer. Emma had forced him to spend the night and Hunter had managed his way through the questions at dinner with vague answers or evaded them all together. He claimed he was tired and went to bed immediately after, hoping that the morning would either find him back on familiar territory or with a clearer idea of what to do. He lay awake for several hours, listening to the boys’ banter, unaware of the way his heart beat faster when his father laughed or made a joke. Hunter could barely remember his father with anything other than a haunted expression. He turned his face to the wall and willed himself into a deep, dark sleep. In the morning, Hunter woke up to find himself facing a rough plank wall so similar to the home he’d grown up in that for a few moments he convinced himself it had all been a dream. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was relieved or disappointed. He heaved a sigh and inhaled the heavenly scent of freshly made biscuits and bacon frying in the oven. His stomach growled and Hunter immediately realized that nothing had changed since he fell asleep the night before. Neither Teaspoon nor Noah ever made food that smelled that good. He rolled out of bed groggily, dressed and at Emma’s instruction followed Kid out to wash up. He sat down to breakfast warily, the sense of unease from the night before settling on him once again. “So, Mr. Merriweather,” Teaspoon said amiably from where he sat, his chair tipped back, at the head of the table, “Where’d you say you was from again?” Hunter knew he hadn’t said, but he also recognized the tone in Teaspoon’s voice and the glint in his eye. “Uhh,” he paused before deciding he’d best be as honest as possible without sounding crazy, “Rock Creek, sir. And you all can just call me Hunter. I ain’t used to bein’ Mr. Anything.” “That ain’t too bad a ride from there to Blue Creek. Not the sorta thing that would tucker a young man like yerself out,” Teaspoon noted. Hunter thought he should probably attempt to explain the situation, but he didn’t have any idea how to go about doing it. Teaspoon eyed him carefully, “You want to tell us how you ended up so far off course?” Hunter paused and ducked his head sheepishly, “Honestly, sir, I don’t know. Must’ve hit my head or somethin’; everything’s a bit fuzzy.” Teaspoon let all four legs of his chair rest on the floor and leaned forward, his eyes soft with concern, but his face stern, “You ain’t in any trouble, are ya, son?” Hunter recognized the voice as the same one that used to ask if he’d eaten the last cookie, or stolen his brother’s toys. It wasn’t the sort of voice you lied to. Hunter shook his head vehemently. He certainly didn’t remember any trouble; though all things considered, he didn’t feel he could guarantee anything. “Good,” Teaspoon said with a smile, “Cause I don’t take kindly to trouble. Ike’s got a ride goin’ down that way today; you might want to send word with him that you’re alright. Don’t seem like Emma’s willing to give you up as a patient just yet.” Hunter chewed his lip thoughtfully, “I don’t spect there’s anyone there that’s worried about me, sir.” Emma paused in pouring Hunter a second cup of coffee, “I thought you said you had brothers.” “Yes, mame. Uhh, we grew up in Rock Creek, but I don’t know that they’d be there now.” Teaspoon worked a sliver off the table and began to pick his teeth. “What’s yer business in Blue Creek, if you don’t mind me askin’?” Hunter doubted that the Widow Perkins was living in Blue Creek yet, or that a corrupt railroad man was trying to bully her off of her farm, so that question was going to be difficult to answer. He shrugged his shoulders, “Just lookin’ for work. Heard ‘bout a job that ways. Likely be gone by the time I get there.” Hunter wasn’t comfortable lying. He’d always been a straightforward fellow, a luxury being feared allowed him. “Pretty fancy gun you carry,” Jimmy put in, a tinge of jealousy to his voice. The riders had seemed more interested in their food than the conversation, but Hunter felt certain they’d all been paying acute attention. He chose his answer carefully. “Yeah,” he said. “What sorta work were you lookin’ for in Blue Creek?” asked Buck. Hunter smiled a little as he answered, “Was just goin’ to help out a widow with her farm.” “A pretty widow?” asked Cody. “Billy!” Emma lightly smacked his shoulder. “Well,” Teaspoon said slowly standing up and patting his stomach contentedly, “Ye’re welcome to stay on here, Hunter, till you get things straightened out. ‘Spect there’s enough work here for one more.” “I’d be willin’ to share my chores, Teaspoon,” Cody offered. “Y’know what they say, generosity is a Christian virtue.” “You sure been sharin’ em enough with the rest of us,” Jimmy grumbled. Teaspoon hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and peered down at his young charges, “Speakin’ a chores, ain’t it about time you boys got started on ‘em?” With some half-hearted protests, the boys rose and headed out to the door. Unsure what to do, Hunter started to follow. Teaspoon stopped him, “One thing I want clear with you, Merriweather, if’n you stay. I don’t got no patience for heroes or tough guys. You got trouble lookin’ for you, or if you look to look for some yerself, then it’d be best if you just ride on. I don’t know if you got that gun to prove somethin’ or if you’ve already proved it, and I don’t got to know. But I ain’t gonna cotton to somebody bringin’ any trouble on this station or my boys. Understand?” Hunter nodded solemnly. Teaspoon slapped him on the back with a chuckle and led him outside to where the corral fence needed mending. ¨¨¨ The boys were pitiful at poker, especially Cody. Hunter felt keenly the money he’d won from them over the last few nights burning a hole in his pocket. He was itching to join the game Sam was losing. But the marshal still seemed suspicious, and so Hunter merely watched along with the others. It was his habit to take an inventory of the men in a room before he entered, take stock of who was around, friend or foe. The saloon was mostly empty besides the poker crowd, but Hunter had noticed the rat-eyed dandy at the bar. He rarely trusted men in expensive suits. Jimmy was in a mood – nothing new there. In his cock-sure, arrogant way, he was now harassing Cody about reading instead of observing the instructional poker game. The city fellow at the bar was trying to seem uninterested in the exchange, but he wore an oily smirk, and Hunter kept a wary eye on him. At last, Jimmy got Cody interested in the game, albeit by tossing the blonde’s dime store novel into a bucket of soapy water. Hunter felt his hand go instinctively to the hilt of his gun as the stranger approached the game and handed Cody a book. In the back of his mind, like some half-forgotten lullaby, Hunter recognized the scene. It was a story he knew, the poker game, the book, and the stranger who turned out to be… Marcus. The stranger had hardly said his name before Hunter’s gun was out and pointed at his heart. “What the hell are you doin’, Merriweather?” Sam shouted jumping up. “You ruined my father’s life!” Hunter yelled, his face flushed, the veins along his neck and on his forehead making mountain ranges through his tanned skin. “Do we know each other, sir?” Marcus’ eyes glittered, but he betrayed no fear. “You wrote a book about my father,” Hunter whispered evenly, “And he had to live with eyes on his back because of it. He’d probably still be alive, if it weren’t for you.” Hunter’s mind flashed quickly over the fantasy he and his siblings held dear, a life with a father instead of Wild Bill. Hunter pulled back the hammer on his colt. He felt clearly the chance to reverse the Hickok family fortunes; all he had to do was pull the trigger. “I doubt it,” Marcus countered, his manner still calm but beads of sweat popping across his face. “The men I write about seek death, all I do is chronicle it.” “You got no right to change people’s lives like that,” Hunter’s arm shook just a little and he steadied his aim. He glanced to his left and saw the perplexed and young face of his father. Hunter had never taken a life that wasn’t attempting to take his own and he started to feel his conscience stopping his hand. Perhaps the fresh faced Jimmy that watched Hunter now would not be sure whether to be disappointed or impressed if Hunter killed Marcus outright; but there would have been no such confusion for the father Hunter had known, and shaking he reholstered his piece. “Get out of here, Marcus, and don’t let me see you again or I might not be as forgiving,” he muttered and turned around. Marcus straightened his lapels and smugly stated, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I see.” Hunter whirled around and slugged him right in his greasy, greedy little face. He felt a guilty satisfaction at the fear and pain on Marcus’ face and turned again to go. “Why, you insolent pup!” Marcus shouted from behind him and grabbed at Hunter’s arm. In an instant, Hunter had whirled around and drawn his gun, jamming it in Marcus’ stomach. As he did he heard the loud report of a gun and watched as Marcus’ hat as it flew across the room, two bullet holes in the crown. Marcus let go of Hunter with a little yelp and Hunter looked over his shoulder to see his father with a cocky grin and a smoking gun, shrugging his shoulders. Sam had both Hunter and Jimmy by the collar and was dragging them out of the saloon, “Damn the two of you! For God’s sake, why do you always have to go to the gun?” Hunter shook off Sam and stared at his father in a blind fury, “What the hell were you doin’? You can’t show off in front of a man like Marcus!” “I wasn’t showin’ off! You saw him, he was gonna whip you with that fancy cane of his. I was just watchin’ your back,” Jimmy answered, mad that his good deed was being criticized. Hunter shook his head, “He’s likely to write about you next.” “So? Let ‘em write,” Jimmy muttered. Hunter punched his father squarely in the nose. “Don’t be an idiot!” he shouted, “If Marcus writes about you, you’ll have half the territory gunnin’ for you.” Were it not for Sam’s restraining arm, Jimmy would have tackled Hunter. “So what? I can handle it.” Sam forced himself between the two, the only foreseeable way to prevent the two of them from getting into a full on brawl. The scrap was interrupted by Marcus’ slow exit from the saloon and his slippery voice calling out to the two boys, “I doubt you two know this, but your facility with those six-shooters is the stuff of legend. You’ll be hearing from me.” “Damn it!” Hunter yelled and flung his hat in the dirt in exasperation. “Jimmy go home,” Sam said levelly, lowering his gaze to meet the boy’s sullen expression, “Now.” With a scowl, Jimmy plodded his way towards the station, and Sam turned back towards Hunter. “Merriweather, it’s time you and I had a talk.” ¨¨¨ Teaspoon had been buying supplies at Tompkins when Cody had run in with a full account of events. The older man shoved the shopping list into Cody’s hands and bustled out the door in time to see Sam shoving a hangdog Hunter towards his office. Teaspoon hurried along the sidewalk after them. “What’s goin’ on, Sam?” Teaspoon asked once they were in the marshal’s office. Hunter was slumped grumpily in a chair by the window and with a sigh Sam leaned back against his desk and looked from the recalcitrant young man to Teaspoon. “I ain’t sure I know, Teaspoon. Seems to me like Mr. Merriweather here has some explainin’ to do. Somethin’ here don’t add up, and I’m sick of pretendin’ like it doesn’t bother me. He shows up out of nowhere, half dead, he looks just like Jimmy, got a temper to match, and now he just about shoots a man in the saloon for writin’ a book.” Sam lit a cigarette and looked Hunter in the eye, “Now, you want to tell me what that’s all addin’ up to?” Hunter sighed and ran his hands roughly across his face and down his hair. He thought desperately of his twin brother. Will was adept at talking, could joke and cajole his way through almost any situation (unless his temper got the better of him) but Hunter was not accustomed to saying anything but the truth. “Merriweather ain’t my real name,” he started, feeling his way, trying to decipher how much of the truth he could safely reveal, “I don’t usually go by my name because too many people recognize it, and they’re usually not friendly. Marcus wrote a book ‘bout my father and made him out to be some sort of gunslinger. Dad was really young, and he had a quick temper, and he was pretty fast I guess.” “Sounds familiar,” Teaspoon muttered with an arch glance at Sam. Hunter stood and walked to the window and gazed out at the town as it passed by. “But he wasn’t a gunslinger and he wasn’t lookin’ for trouble. He’d been in a few fights, but mostly because he was tryin’ to do what was right. Anyway, Marcus wrote this book, and after that everybody knew Dad as a dead shot fast draw. Everybody with anything to prove came gunnin’ for him. It was like that the rest of his life. He fought against it but after awhile it just got impossible. So he started tradin’ in on his reputation to do good.” Sam snorted derisively, “So he became a hired gun.” Hunter turned on the marshal, his eyes full of pain and fury, “No, he didn’t, Marshal. He did what needed doin’. Figured if he was gonna have to be famous he might as well put it to good use. Weren’t never for the money. He was killed when I was thirteen. Some fool boy that wanted to brag about it shot him in the back during a poker game. Since then we’ve been on our own, my brothers and sister and I. Folks that still got somethin’ to prove figure since Dad’s gone, we’re the next best thing. That’s why I didn’t give you my real name. Wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t see a bunch of guns in my face if I did.” Teaspoon nodded and looked over at Sam, “That add up for you alright, Sam?” The marshal stubbed out his cigarette and looked at Hunter appraisingly, nodded his head curtly. “Get out of here,” he said to the boy and watched as Hunter slouched out the door. “And try to stay out of Hickok’s way, will ya?” he called after him. Sam sat down with a sigh and looked up at Teaspoon, “He ain’t tellin’ the whole truth, Teaspoon.” “Now, Sam, we all got things in our past that we’d rather stay there. I guess we can give the boy a chance to forget some of those things from his.” “What if that past catches up with him here, Teaspoon? I saw him draw down on Marcus in the saloon; the boy is fast. Faster than Hickok, helluva lot faster than me. Someone like that is trouble.” Sam tossed his hat onto the desk and ran a hand through his hair, “If what he’s sayin’ is true, and there’s folks what want to prove somethin’ by takin’ him down…those boys of yours, Hickok especially, you don’t want them caught up in somethin’ like that.” Teaspoon sat down in the chair Hunter had vacated, leaned back and closed his eyes, “Sam, we’ve known boys like that all our lives. Hell, we was both ones ourselves. The ones that live to be old men are the ones that have people helpin’ ‘em out. Hunter seen what livin’ by the gun did to his dad, and he don’t seem to me like he’s itchin’ to repeat it. Besides, I ‘spect it’d do Hickok some good to be around someone who ain’t impressed by his gun.” The old man grinned devilishly, and before tipping his hat over his eyes, opened his eyes and gave Sam a look filled with mischief, “’Course, we better keep on eye on the two of ‘em afore they shoot each other. If Jimmy noticed Hunter was a faster draw than him, then you can bet there’s some cans out at the station right now that are prayin’ for their immortal souls.” ¨¨¨ Jimmy found the incident riling to say the least. As the days passed he rarely spoke to Hunter, and when necessity forced him to he was cold and brusque. For his own part, Hunter continued to help out around the station saying little about himself and looking at Jimmy through a thinly concealed veil of disbelief and disapproval. And then Cody brought the book back to the station house. The Adventures of Wild Bill Merriweather flew off Tompkins’ shelves. Hunter was cast as the tortured son of a former outlaw, hell bent on clearing his father’s name and making a name for himself in the process. Little Jimmy Hickok appeared briefly as Hunter’s sidekick, as Marcus said, “A foolish boy who practiced his art futilely in an attempt to gain the speed and marksmanship of Merriweather”. Needless to say, this had not gone over well. Hunter was relieved to see that his father had escaped the notoriety of Wild Bill, at least temporarily, but he was fast becoming convinced that Jimmy was looking for that sort of trouble with or without the help of a man like Marcus. Hunter was mulling over such thoughts as he methodically chopped wood. The boys were scattered about doing their chores, except for Jimmy who was shooting cans off the fence. Hunter remembered practicing in a similar fashion with his brothers and wondered if it were really necessity that had driven them all to take up the gun, or if they were more like their father than they’d like to admit. Nobody was gunning for Jimmy Hickok and yet there he was, setting up cans and shooting them down, biding his time for the chance to practice on living targets. Hunter watched his father re-set the cans and begin re-loading his gun. Jimmy looked up and caught Hunter’s eye, smiled wryly, shaking his head. Hunter turned back to his work and from the corner of his eye saw Jimmy re-holster his colt. The sound of steel scraping past leather made Hunter reach instinctively for his gun, but too late he realized that it was draped over a nearby fence post and out of reach. “Why you starin’ at me like that?” shouted Jimmy, his gun aimed straight at Hunter. The yard was silent and none of the boys moved. Hunter glared back at his father, the anger of years spent under the yoke of the Hickok name boiling in him. Kid took a step forward, “Stop it, Jimmy. He hasn’t done anything to you.” “He keeps on starin’ at me and I want to know why.” Jimmy didn’t take his eyes off of Hunter. Hunter flung down the axe he held and whipped off his leather gloves, throwing them into the dust as he walked straight towards Jimmy, unflinching. He’d had enough. “Why are you always showin’ off around me?” Jimmy’s eyes narrowed, “I ain’t showin’ off.” His arm wavered slightly. Hunter got close enough to slap Jimmy’s gun to the side, and he prodded a finger into the other boy’s chest, “I don’t care how fast you shoot those damn cans, got it? If you got somethin’ to prove to me then next time you draw down on me, do it when I got my gun on.” “Didn’t ask for no advice from you,” Jimmy whispered with vitriol, keeping his eyes locked on Hunter’s. There was no way he could back down now. Hunter kept his eyes and voice level, “That weren’t advice. You draw on me again, you better do it with the intent of shootin’ ‘cause I’m done with watchin’ you play at things that mean people livin’ or dyin’. You keep this up, one a these days you’ll be like them cans up there – shot by some boy showin’ off.” Jimmy’s punch landed in Hunter’s left eye and the two of them were scrapping on the ground in the blink of an eye. Buck and Kid moved in to separate the two of them and Teaspoon came charging out of the tack room, pulling his suspenders up and roaring, “What in the sam hell are you boys doin’?” The sky was clear and there was no call for thunder. Yet the air split with a large popping noise and once again all activity in the yard ceased. Buck looked up and saw four horses stumbling towards the station, their riders slumped in the saddle. “Riders comin’” he said, bewildered as to why he had not seen them earlier. Jimmy and Hunter paused their brawl to look and Hunter caught his breath when he recognized his sister’s steel gray horse. In a moment he was up and running in her direction. ¨¨¨ Around the corners of his vision an inviting blackness threatened Jacques Cross as he struggled to stay upright in the saddle. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his brother hanging slack over his horse’s neck. Kit looked over at him with wide, terrified eyes and Jacques tried to manage a tight smile. He fought off the waves of darkness that washed over him, trying to topple him from his mount. He looked to Little Lou Hickok and saw that she too was slumped limply in her saddle. He would see the three of them safe before he gave in to the sleep that was pushing in at the corners of his conscience. He felt too full of air, as if he might float right off his horse and into the sky, but he forced himself to remain earthbound. Figures were running towards them, seemingly in order to help. A young boy with a bandana tied around his head eased Isaac out of the saddle. “Be careful, I think he’s hurt,” Jacques called out. Another figure was reaching arms up to Lou and Jacques felt himself relax into the darkness as he recognized the man. “Hunter!” he shouted in relief and felt himself topple out of his saddle and into a pair of strong arms. As his eyes finally closed, ushering him into a dreamless sleep, Jacques wondered why there was no gray in his father’s hair. ¨¨¨ “Simple exhaustion,” stated the sweating doctor simply, as he re-packed his little black bag, “Bed rest, some good food, and they’ll be fit as a fiddle in no time. Might want to keep your eye on the younger boy though. I don’t like his color; he’s lookin’ mighty pale for an Indian.” The kindly gentleman paused and patted Emma’s shoulder fondly, “Don’t know what it is about you, Miss Shannon, they flock to you like moths to a flame.” “Thanks, Doc,” Teaspoon walked the doctor to his horse, keeping an eye on Hunter where he slouched on the porch. When the good doctor’s horse was kicking up dust towards town, Teaspoon strode over with a look of grim determination on his face. “You know them?” he asked Hunter, jerking a thumb towards the bunkhouse door. Hunter nodded solemnly, never meeting Teaspoon’s eyes. “Look, here, son, I been happy to let you keep yer past in the past, but I’d feel a mite easier if’n you’d do some explainin’ here.” Hunter twisted the hat in his hands, looked out towards the horizon and the sun that was beginning to dip below it. “They’re friends a’ mine and, uh, the girl what pulled her gun on Kid, that’s my sister. I reckon they been out lookin’ fer me. Though I’m blasted as to how they found me.” Teaspoon puffed out his cheeks in exasperation and gave Hunter a hard look, “And why was you hidin’ from them, exactly?” “Well, sir, I don’t know that I can rightly explain it.” “I think you better try,” came a voice from the steps and they both looked down into the grim face of Sam. “Doc, says you got an injured US Marshal on yer hands, Teaspoon.” “I reckon I seen the glint of tin alright,” Teaspoon replied, leaning back on his heels. Sam grimaced, “Well, Merriweather, you want to tell me why you got a US Marshal ridin’ himself to exhaustion chasin’ after you?” “I guess I can answer that.” The three men turned to see Jacques Cross, pale but standing steady in the doorway. He walked purposefully towards Sam, his hand out, “Marshal Jacques Cr – Levesque, out of Rock Creek.” “Marshal Sam Cain, pleased to meet you,” Sam pursed his lips as he met Jacques’ level gaze, “I thought Dan Thompson was the marshal over Rock Creek way.” “Yessir. Dan hasn’t been feeling all that well of late. I’m just filling in.” Jacques turned towards Hunter and smiled up at him, “Hunter, you are going to get the tanning of your life when you get home. You’ve got every last one of them worried past belief. I even had to lock little…Ann…up to keep her from running after you. Not that it did much good. That sister of yours is a menace.” “Look, Marshal,” Sam interrupted, stepping up onto the porch, “I don’t mean to interrupt a reunion, but I got more mysteries on my hands than I can handle right now. Think you could shed some light on the situation?” “Of course. Take a breath, Marshal, Hunter is far from a criminal. No,” with a grin, Jacques draped his arm over Hunter’s shoulders. The gesture looked casual, and only Hunter was aware that Jacques was hardly standing on his own effort, “Hunter has what we call a severe case of cold feet. He’s engaged to a girl back in Rock Creek but as the day approached, he up and ran off. We’ve been looking for him; guess we pushed ourselves a little too hard, but the weddin’s supposed to be on Saturday, didn’t want the groom to be late.” Teaspoon let out a roar of laughter and Jacques quickly joined him. Teaspoon smacked his hat against Sam’s chest, “Here you was, Marshal, worrying yourself over a gun-shy bridegroom.” “Yeah, well, I just hope his girl don’t mind that now she’s marryin’ Wild Bill.” Sam said grimly, and turned back to his horse. Jacques looked at Hunter perplexed, “What?” Hunter gritted his teeth and simply answered, “Marcus.” ¨¨¨ By dinnertime all but Isaac had woken up and were more than happy to eat at the dinner table. Hunter cringed as he watched his sister maneuver herself into a seat next to her father. He did not relish her experiencing the disappointment he had already faced. Kit was the belle of the ball. Nothing played to the Cody family’s strengths quite like the opportunity to tell a good story. Kit had managed to present herself as a tragic heiress who’d come out west to help the heathen. Jacques knew there’d be hell to pay when his brother woke up to learn he was Kit’s partner in crime and intended. While Cody might have been intrigued by Kit’s stories of Eastern wealth, Buck had been plagued by questions ever since he’d glimpsed the badge on Jacques’ chest. Finally, as Emma cleared away the plates, he asked, “It’s hard to believe the folks in Rock Creek are okay with an Indian marshal. Wouldn’t fly around here.” Jacques shrugged his shoulders, “Doesn’t always fly that well back home either.” *How’d you end up living with white men?* “Always have,” Jacques answered Ike, “My dad lived with his people until he was twelve or so, then he went to a mission school. He lucked into good friends who helped him make his way in the white world. He owns his own freight company now. I don’t guess it was easy for him, but he sort of paved the way for his children. We haven’t gone through half of what he did.” “Most people hardly even know they’re Indian at all,” Kit chimed in, “Why, Jacques and Isaac’s sister Emily,” “Emma Leigh, Kit, Emma Leigh. It’s two words,” Little Lou Hickok interrupted, shooting daggers at Kit with her eyes. She felt particularly disgruntled at having to go by her middle name, Ann, and by the way Kit had monopolized most of the conversation. Jimmy hadn’t said a word and it was all Lou could do not to hug her father close and never let him go. “Leigh don’t like bein’ called Emily.” “She has never complained to me,” Kit answered airily and continued, “At any rate Emily Cr – Levesque lived with me in Saint Louis for several years while she was studying to be a doctor, and no one ever guessed.” “Yer sister’s a doctor?” asked Lou McCloud, from where she sat next to Kid, her shoulders caved in. Jacques nodded, “Yes, mame. Ow!” Jacques recoiled from the sharp kick Louise Hickok had given him under the table. He looked up to see Lou McCloud’s beet red face and frightened eyes and he realized his mistake. Kit, oddly enough, saved the day, though she might have used more grace in doing it. “The Marshal spends so much time with this –“ she jabbed in Little Lou Hickok’s direction with her fork, “that he often confuses the sexes. I’ve known her all my life, and I declare I still have trouble determining whether she is a girl, a boy, or simply a beast.” Little Lou Hickok jumped up and lunged across the table and grabbed a handful of Kit’s blonde curls, “What about you? You don’t eat like no lady I ever seen. In fact, you ate more tonight than all these boys together!” Jimmy and Teaspoon, who had in fact noticed that Kit had kept up mouthful for mouthful with Cody, couldn’t help but laugh. “Ladies,” said Emma sharply. With one last tug on Kit’s hair, Little Lou sat back down. “Your sister’s a doctor. Well, that is impressive,” Emma smiled warmly and patted Jacques’ shoulder. “Sounds like you got a fair amount of schoolin’ yerself, Marshal.” “Not as much as I’d like, mame,” Jacques looked up with a grin and winked at Little Lou Hickok, “Worked out for the best, I suppose. At the very least it’s worked in one family’s favor to have the law on their side.” “I’d imagine two guns like that can cause some trouble,” said Teaspoon sagely from the head of the table. Jacques laughed, “And there’s two more where they came from, Mr. Hunter. Believe me, Rock Creek is rarely a boring place with that family around.” ¨¨¨ The night’s peace was shattered by a shot and a scream. The boys were already running towards Emma’s when they saw her throw open the door and drag “Ann” out by her ear, Kit following behind in a dither. “You hateful little thing!” Kit shouted, near tears, “You actually shot at me! You horrible, spiteful, ugly…” “I told you to stop snorin’! I told you to stop or else. Well, you didn’t stop so you got the or else,” the other girl yelled back trying to weasel her way out of Emma’s grip. “Go back to bed, boys,” Emma shouted out at the assembling crowd, “Go on, now.” Regretfully they all headed back to their respective beds. All except Jacques. Emma turned again to the girls, “The two of you been bickerin’ all night. All I’m askin’ is that you stop long enough for us all to get a night’s sleep. And since you,” she added with an extra bit of pressure on Lou’s ear, “can’t even sleep without pullin’ your gun out, it’ll be spendin’ the night with me.” “No mame, I can’t sleep without it!” Lou protested. Jacques walked up the step, “You girls aren’t givin’ Miss Shannon any trouble are you?” Kit lowered her head demurely, “I haven’t done anything. I’ve been acting the lady.” “Don’t you tell me what to do, Jacques,” Lou muttered angrily, “There ain’t no way I can sleep without my gun, and there ain’t no way I can sleep under the same roof as Miss Kit! She’s spent half the night snorin’ and the other half droolin’. It’s worse than sleepin’ with a whole herd of hound dogs.” She wrenched the gun out of Emma’s hand, “I’d rather sleep with the horses than someone like her,” and she ran out to the barn. “I’m awfully sorry Miss Shannon,” Jacques said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice, “Kit and uh, Ann, have never exactly gotten along.” “You sure do take good care of all of ‘em,” Emma answered with a smile. “We’re just like family, mame. And I am a bit older than the rest. Guess it’s just always been my job.” Emma wrapped her arms around her shoulders and shook her head as she looked off in the direction Lou had run, “That girl sure seems troubled.” Jacques sighed, “Yes, mame. Her and her brothers have been on their own most of their life. Don’t suppose it’s been easy for any of them, but Ann especially. She’s always got to prove that she’s the toughest and the meanest. Three older brothers, what choice did she have?” “She’s utterly distasteful,” said Kit with a yawn and she padded her way back to bed. Emma shook her head, “Seems to me like you certainly got yer hands full, Marshal.” Jacques shrugged, “I could say the same about you, Miss Shannon.” Emma laughed wryly and looked fondly towards the bunkhouse, “They are a fine bunch of boys. I ain’t sayin’ it’ll be easy, but I have great hopes that they’ll grow up to be fine, upstanding gentlemen. Good husbands, good fathers, but most importantly good men.” Jacques looked at the bunkhouse himself and said as he began to walk back to his waiting bed, “And I am certain they will, mame, in fact I’d guarantee it.” ¨¨¨ Isaac still managed to be asleep the next morning. The doctor came and looked him over, shook his head, clucked his tongue. Isaac wasn’t any worse but he wasn’t any better. Jacques had assured Teaspoon and Emma, but mostly Sam, that they’d all be out of their hair as soon as Isaac was up to traveling. In the meantime, he and Hunter tackled the repair of the stable roof as the riders busied themselves with their everyday chores. They worked in silence until Jimmy rode out of the station on a ride and Little Lou Hickok clambered up to join them. “Get down from here, Lou,” said Jacques irritably. “So help me, Jacques Cross, you tell me what to do one more time…” she muttered lowly. Her brother looked over at her, “What have you been doin’ all mornin’?” “Talkin’ to Dad.” Hunter rubbed her shoulder sympathetically, “Sorry. Must’ve been a disappointment.” Lou shrugged and started in on the job, “Not really.” “What?” Hunter stared at her with his mouth agape, “He’s been nothing but hot-headed and arrogant ‘round me. Haven’t had a single decent word with him.” “Sorry,” Lou answered. “Well, what’d you talk about?” asked Hunter indignantly. “Guns.” Jacques laughed loud enough for Emma to look up at the three of them from where she and Kit sat on the porch. Hunter just shook his head and went back to work, “Figures. That’s all he’s ever thinkin’ ‘bout, guns. He’s always showin’ off around me and tryin’ to pick a fight. All this time we been defendin’ him, but my guess is that Wild Bill stuff weren’t far off the mark.” “You take that back, Hunter, that ain’t true and you know it!” Lou yelled and lunged at her brother. Jacques held her back with his arm and gave both of them a steely look, “If you guys want to brawl best go down onto solid earth, don’t you think?” “Everythin’ alright up there?” Teaspoon called out from below. “Yes sir,” Jacques hollered back. He turned back to the Hickoks and whispered fiercely, “Stop being Hickoks for an instant and behave like real people. I don’t want any more attention drawn to us than there already is. Maybe it’d be best if the two of you tried to give Uncle Jimmy a little extra space. He’s still a kid; he’s hardly older than you, Lou. He isn’t going to be the man he turned out to be, the man you remember. I realize that it’s wild to see all of them so young and everything but we’ve got to just treat them like strangers. I mean there are a hundred things I’d like to talk to my dad about, but you don’t see me shadowing him every second.” Lou interrupted him, “’Course not, you can still see Uncle Buck whenever you feel like it. It’d be different if it was your real dad.” Jacques looked at her coldly, “Buck Cross is my real dad, Louise Hickok. Levesque was just some one who gave me life, but Buck is my father.” She looked away awkwardly, and watched as Hunter nailed a shingle on crooked, trying to pretend he didn’t notice the uncomfortable moment. “That weren’t what I meant, Jacques. I just meant that if you had a second chance with your…with Levesque you might feel different. Wouldn’t you want to ask him why he left you? Wouldn’t you want to ask him if he ever intended to come back for you? If he was thinkin’ of you when he left or was he just bein’ selfish?” “Those answers aren’t going to change how things ended up,” he answered quietly. Jacques was smart enough to know that Lou was really talking about her own father. He shuddered to think of what life might have been like had he not had Buck and Molly to take up the slack after his mother’s death. Everybody had tried to take the Hickok kids in when Uncle Jimmy had died, but the Hickoks wouldn’t accept it. It meant having to admit that their parents had failed, and in time they would have forgotten Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Anne. Jacques knew that, the way one night you went to bed an orphan dependent on the kindness of strangers and awoke the next morning to find you had parents after all. Perhaps because he did know it, he felt mildly irritated that Lou had brought up the subject. He had never harbored anger towards Albert Levesque, after all, he hardly remembered the man. And if he’d been given the opportunity to choose a family, he couldn’t imagine choosing anyone but the Crosses. Still the idea of seeing his real father again stuck in his mind and Jacques wondered what it was he would do if given that opportunity. Down below, Emma had walked out onto the porch with fresh cookies and a pitcher of lemonade. It was no great surprise to those acquainted with either of them that Kit and Cody seemed to materialize by her side as if by magic. They each had eaten one cookie and were quickly onto their second before anyone else could get close enough to even smell them. “This sure is the life, Emma! Your cookies and sunshine, couldn’t ask for more,” Cody said with his mouth full. “Cody, you could always ask for more,” Kid shot back and everybody chuckled good-naturedly. “Guessin’ that’s so,” Cody nodded, “bet there’s all sorts of fancified things we’re missin’ out on here. Just think if we were all fine rich gentlemen in the city, why then I guess there’d be better things than cookies.” “That so, Miss Kit?” asked Teaspoon, looking at the pretty girl’s face as she looked up from her cookie. “Oh, yes! There’s lady fingers, and madelines, and cream custards, and big cakes, layers and layers high with frothy frosting and raspberry or lemon jelly in the middle.” “And someday all that’s gonna be mine,” said Cody with a satisfied rub of his belly. Kit looked back at the half a cookie she held daintily between her fingers, “Of course, there’s things out here that don’t exist in the city too,” she continued as she stuffed the cookie into her mouth. “Like what?” Cody asked incredulously. “Blackberries,” Kit said wistfully grabbing another cookie. “The only place I’ve ever had really good blackberries is in Rock Creek.” Cody grimaced, “Blackberries? I do especially like good blackberries.” “I always wished that my parents had had a house out west. Oh, I’d trade all the chocolate tarts and orange marmalade I’ve ever had to have grown up out here. Then I could wipe that smug look off Lou - Ann’s face once and for all. See if I believe a bear’s going to eat me then!” Kit muttered and she took a vicious bite out of her cookie. ¨¨¨ Jimmy rode in that evening as the sunset cast everything in shades of gold. His daughter had been sitting on the corral fence watching the sky and waiting for him. From the porch, Hunter was watching her. Jimmy passed the pouch to Kid and fell as much as jumped off his horse. He ran at full speed towards Hunter and tackled him to the ground, pinning him before raining blows on his face and chest. “What the hell’s got into you, Hickok?” shouted Teaspoon as he emerged from the bunkhouse, followed by the others. “I just got jumped because of you!” Jimmy shouted, looking down into the bloodied face of his son. “Some smart kid, tryin’ to take me down ‘cause I ride with Wild Bill Merriweather, jumped me just past Sand Bluff. I practically had to kill him, and he couldn’t a been more than fourteen.” “Jimmy, I don’t see how that’s Hunter’s fault,” Emma said sternly from the porch. Jimmy looked up at her, frustration on his face, “It’s aggravation I don’t need, Emma. You know what he said to me,” he stood up and kicked at the dust with the toe of his boot, “He said he could take me ‘cause after all I was ‘just Hickok’. I ain’t ‘just’ nothin’!” Little Lou Hickok had joined them and the eyes she turned on Jimmy were wide with horror and pain, “You don’t want to be Wild Bill, do you?” Jimmy looked at her, “No, I don’t want to be Wild Bill – but I don’t want to be anybody’s sorry tag-a-long either.” “Look, a reputation won’t do you any good. That Marcus fella turned our dad into a…” Lou began, still staring at Jimmy with an expression of disgust. Jimmy interrupted, gesturing with his hat to where Hunter now stood, staunching his bloody nose with his sleeve, “He already told me all about your dad. Doesn’t sound to me like he was much of a hero endin’ up the way he did. If he was as good as Marcus said, he shoulda been able to take whoever finally got him.” Hunter’s gun was still clearing leather when Little Lou’s was unwaveringly pointed at her father, “Take it back,” she said harshly. The air changed to something alive, snapping with energy and everyone exchanged uneasy glances. Hunter put a restraining hand on his sister’s shoulder, but she didn’t take her eyes off her father’s. Jimmy finally looked away, “I didn’t mean it; I’m sorry.” Jacques stepped deftly between the two of them and said softly to Lou, “Think of what you’re doing here. You’re screwing up your second chance,” he whispered. Slowly she re-holstered her gun and then ran to the stable, her face already wet with tears. Hunter made a move to follow but Jacques stopped him. “I’ll go,” he said simply, and he jogged towards the stable as Emma started to tend to Hunter’s face. ¨¨¨ “Lou?” Jacques asked quietly as he walked into the gloomy shadows of the stable. He could hear her snuffling above him in the hayloft and he determinedly started to climb up after her. “Leave me alone, Jacques,” she muttered at him. “I will not,” he answered simply and pleasantly. He crossed to where she sat in the corner, huddled against herself and without speaking lowered himself next to her. He put his arm around her shaking shoulders and for a moment they just sat there. “I’ve been thinking about something, Lou.” He looked at her but she made no move to respond. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about what I would ask if I saw my blood father again. And you know what, I don’t think I’d ask him anything. Like I said, it doesn’t really matter anymore why he did what he did. I figure it must have all turned out for the best anyway. But if I got the chance, I’d like to tell him that I forgive him.” Lou stopped sniffling and looked at him, “Forgive him for what?” Unconsciously he played with a strand of her ash hair as he spoke, “Well, for leaving me, I guess. Not that I don’t love my family, because I do. And not that I don’t understand why he did, because I think I do. Just for not being a father, I guess. For not being there when I needed him.” He paused and exhaled loudly, let her hair fall and replaced his hand on her shoulder, “Now, I know I had Buck all the time, and I wouldn’t for a second complain about having him as my dad. It’s just, it wasn’t his job, you know.” He turned and looked at her. Her body tensed under his arm and she stared ahead, her mouth set, her face stoic, “But my dad wasn’t like yours. He didn’t make a choice.” She said it with such conviction, except for the tremble that underlay the words. Jacques sighed, “Lou, maybe he didn’t make a choice to become Wild Bill, but his life wasn’t completely out of his control. I’m sure he regretted a lot of the things he did, and I guess he had his fair share of bad luck, but he wasn’t an innocent bystander in his own life.” “He’s just like they all said he was,” she sobbed, vigorously wiping tears off her face. “He’s lookin’ for it, Jacques, he’s lookin’ to make a reputation for himself. And he’s not stoppin’ to think at all what that’s gonna do to us!” “Well, let’s be fair, Lou, he doesn’t know about you and your brothers yet.” She choked on a laugh that caught up with her cries and nodded, “I know. I can’t forgive him, Jacques. It means admitting he did wrong, did somethin’ that needs forgivin’. I can’t agree with everybody else that he was selfish and hot-headed; he’s my dad, I love him.” Jacques pulled her head onto his shoulder, “Admitting somebody did something wrong and not loving them are two different things. For instance, I am very certain that you should not have clubbed me upside the head with that rifle, Little Lou Hickok, but that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” They sat in silence until the evening’s darkness settled over the stable. ¨¨¨ In the morning, Jacques stood looking down at his brother protectively. Isaac looked much the same, and a grain of fear was building in Jacques’ chest. Isaac was the only one who knew, or at least might know, how to get them back home. But more importantly, he was Jacques’ little brother, and Jacques could not imagine letting anything happen to him. The bunkhouse was otherwise empty, the station quiet. Jacques looked up at the sound of a light step behind him and saw Buck walk in, a concerned expression on his face. “How is he?” Jacques sighed, ran a hand through his short, black hair, “The same.” Buck set a warm and friendly hand on Jacques’ shoulder, “I wouldn’t worry. I think the spirits are watching over him.” Jacques nodded, “They would be. Isaac’s always been interested in that sort of thing.” “But not you?” Buck asked with an arched eyebrow. Jacques mulled over how many times he’d seen that look, the eyes that seemed to bore into his soul and reveal whatever transgressions he was hiding from himself. “Dad, Isaac, they’re both very fond of the old ways, which is fine. But they’re also bound to the old fears, too. Everyday they’re out praying to the rising sun for strength and then walking through town on eggshells because no one accepts a man of mixed blood.” “I thought you said it was different in Rock Creek. Don’t they accept you? You’re a marshal.” Buck sounded puzzled. “They do accept me,” Jacques answered, “It took me a long time to trust people enough to find that out. Most of my life I listened to what my father said about white men. Our family, the others, they were the only whites that didn’t care about the color of a man’s skin.” Buck nodded solemnly, “I know how cruel the white world can be.” “Other people’s cruelty is no excuse for changing who you are,” Jacques said vehemently and found himself staring intently at Buck, “What I’m saying is I listened to my father so I never took the chance that people might be better than he feared. I sorta slunk around most of my life, trying to stay out of the way, paying more attention to my white half than my Cheyenne side. When I got old enough I took any job that came my way, afraid it was all I’d get. By the time I realized that most people are decent if you just give them the opportunity, it was too late.” “Too late for what?” Jacques remembered who he was talking to and set his mouth in a grim line, “Oh, for nothing. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to climb on a soapbox. I guess what I was trying to say is just that I’ve never taken the interest in the spirit realm that Isaac did. I never wanted to do anything that made me more Indian than I already was. Seemed too risky. Sometimes, like now, I regret it. I’d like to feel confident that someone or something was helping him out.” Buck looked back again at the pale face of Isaac. “I think someone is.” He leaned forward and peered closer, and Jacques followed his eyes in horror to the small earring that lay half hidden in Isaac’s long hair. Buck reached out a trembling finger, “Wait…that looks like – “ he didn’t finish the sentence, just gave Jacques a long level look. Jacques willed himself not to look at the identical earring that hung from Buck’s own ear. He counted his heartbeats as an eerie silence overtook the room, broken only by the shallow breathing of Isaac. The door swung open with a bang and they turned to see a red-faced and breathless Kit, “Gabe Calder just called out Hunter!” ¨¨¨ Little Lou Hickok sized up Gabe Calder in a matter of minutes, unwashed and unlikely to be fast enough to worry about. When she heard him call for Wild Bill she wondered why Hunter hung back. It wasn’t like her brother to leave a challenge unanswered. But he just stayed where he was sitting at a now empty poker table and shook his head at her. Calder kept shouting and Jimmy dashed into the saloon, peered out the window, “Well, Wild Bill, ain’t you gonna go out there?” he sneered. Hunter looked up at him, “No, I’m not.” Jimmy’s brow furrowed, “You want him tellin’ everybody that Wild Bill Merriweather’s a fake and a coward?” “I don’t want anybody sayin’ anythin’ about me, to tell you the truth,” Hunter answered coldly. He was still seething over the way his father had hurt Little Lou, and he felt damned and determined to knock some sense into the boy. Every fiber of his Hickok being demanded that he go out there and face Calder, but instead Hunter stood up slowly, unbuckled the holster from around his waist and hung it, gun and all, on a hook by the door. Just as slowly he went and sat back down. “What are you doin’?” asked Jimmy incredulously. “I don’t have any quarrel with Calder,” Hunter said. “And I ain’t Wild Bill. If the only way to get that through your head and Calder’s and anybody else fool enough to believe Marcus’ book is to hang up my gun then that’s what I’m goin’ to do.” “But you can’t just do that,” Jimmy sputtered, staring at Hunter’s calm, placid face. He turned back towards the street. “He’ll come in after you –“ he started but was interrupted by the sound of Sam’s voice outside. “You gotta get out there, Hunter. Sam’s gonna fight him.” “I’m not goin’. Sam can take care of himself.” Hunter began to idly flip through the cards on the table. Behind him, Little Lou fidgeted nervously. She did not feel as certain that Sam could take care of himself. She’d sized him up too and figured he was the sort of fella that relied on his brains, not his brawn. She wasn’t sure he was as fast with his gun as he was with his talk. “Well, if you ain’t goin’, I am.” Jimmy muttered and he headed towards the door. With a weary sigh, Hunter stood up and called out, “Jimmy, wait.” He walked over and reached up to where his gun was hanging. Jimmy’s mouth began to quirk up in a wicked smile, ready for the fight he wanted to witness. He barely had time to change his expression to one of confusion before everything went black and Hunter was stuffing his gun back into it’s holster. ¨¨¨ “Lou, you stay with him.” Little Lou walked over to her father’s unconscious body and stared at her brother, “You ain’t goin’ out there without a gun?” Hunter only nodded and started for the door. Lou rested a hand on his arm, stopping him, “Why?” “I got a lesson to teach. Even though he’s knocked out maybe he’ll get the gist of it.” Hunter straightened his shoulders and stepped out on to the street. “Calder!” he shouted, calling the aging ne’er do well’s attention away from Sam. “You lookin’ for me?” “You Merriweather?” Calder asked with a crooked smile. Hunter only nodded. “Where’s yer gun, Wild Bill? You’ll be needin’ that.” Hunter shook his head and took a stand several yards down the street from Calder. “Don’t carry a gun.” “Then how’d you manage to kill me?” Calder hissed angrily. “Look pretty alive to me,” was all Hunter said. “Do I?” Calder was puzzled by the turn of events. “Enough playin’ around Wild Bill, get yer gun and let’s get this over with.” “Told you, I don’t carry a gun.” Hunter kept his eyes fixed on Calder’s, watching them dart around nervously. “Calder,” Sam said sternly as walked up to where Hunter was standing, “I suggest you ride on out of here.” Calder faltered for a moment, but then looked coldly back at Hunter, “Don’t think so, Marshal, not till I get what I came for. Either you make the story right by killin’ me, Merriweather, or I’ll change it by killin’ you.” Hunter shrugged, “Unless you intend to shoot down an unarmed man, Calder, I’d suggest you take the marshal’s advice.” “You sure this is a good idea, Hunter?” whispered Sam viciously. Hunter answered calmly, “I ain’t got no interest in fightin’ him, or in what’s like to follow if I do.” Sam nodded, and stood his ground. “Put on yer gun, Merriweather!” Calder screamed a little desperately. Hunter didn’t answer, just kept staring down the street at him. “Wild Bill ain’t nothin’ but a coward, huh?” “Wild Bill ain’t nothin’ but a lie. Gonna be hard for you to get revenge on a fella that don’t exist, don’t you think?” Hunter answered levelly. Calder’s eyes shifted anxiously and his hand fidgeted on his gun. “We don’t want no trouble in this town, Calder, best for you just to ride on out of here.” Sam shouted, “Guess it wouldn’t be too hard for me to find some warrants out on you and your boys.” Calder stood for a moment unsure. Then slowly he nodded his head and signaled to his men crouched on rooftops and hidden behind barrels. “Don’t look like Wild Bill’s here, boys, guess we’ll ride on.” He turned his crazed eyes on Hunter one last time, “I suggest you keep to not carryin’ a gun, Merriweather. If I hear that Wild Bill’s out makin’ a name for himself again, I won’t be as likely to play by the rules.” Sam and Hunter stayed where they were, standing tall, meeting the glares of the Calder gang with level gazes until the gang had mounted and were headed out of town. Sam exhaled slowly, “Well, that was unusual,” he noted. ¨¨¨ Jacques and Buck passed the Calder gang on their way into town. Jacques took note of the un-injured nature of the gang and spurred his horse a little faster, fearing for Hunter and Little Lou. They joined the knot of people in the street surrounding Hunter and Sam. Teaspoon clapped a hand on Hunter’s back with a grin, “Son, that were one of the craziest things I ever seen a body do. It was also damn impressive. I’m sure ye’re Dad’d be proud.” Hunter nodded in acknowledgement. From the saloon across the street, Little Lou and Jimmy came running. Jimmy looked up at Hunter fiercely, “Coulda told me what your plan was. Didn’t have to hit me.” “Didn’t want any hair trigger makin’ things go different,” Hunter answered. Jimmy stared hard at him and then grinned sheepishly, “I can’t believe you stared a man like Calder down like that! And without a gun.” “Maybe some people can learn a valuable lesson from Hunter’s example,” Teaspoon intoned with an arch look at Jimmy. “Wild Bill!” The clarity of the young man’s voice was bell-like as he shouted across the street. Without thought, Hunter immediately fumbled for the gun that wasn’t there. Just as quickly the boy across the street fired. Little Lou Hickok would have had her gun out before Hunter’s body hit the ground, except for the heavy hands that had shoved her behind Jacques’ broad shoulders the minute the shot sounded. By the time Jimmy had turned around, his gun at the ready, the boy had already dropped his gun, his face white with shock. Perhaps it had never occurred to him that Wild Bill would bleed, that he was a real man at all instead of just a name and a picture on the cover of a book. Back at the bunkhouse, Isaac awoke gasping for air. ¨¨¨ Jacques had managed to avoid his father since Hunter had been shot. He’d also managed to convince Isaac to remove his earring until they could leave. Buck hadn’t been pressing the matter, so Jacques hoped that in the excitement it had gone forgotten. Isaac was still weak and pale, and he felt less than confident that he’d gotten them there in the first place, let alone be able to get them home. Still, they had all agreed that they could no longer stay in Sweetwater, and the decision was made to ride towards Rock Creek the day after the funeral. Well, Kit, Jacques, and Isaac had agreed. Little Lou Hickok wasn’t really talking. Jimmy wasn’t talking to anyone either. The twisted logic of the heart had him convinced that he was to blame for Hunter’s death. He rarely sat at night polishing his colt to a high gleam, nor did he shoot cans off a fence rail during the day. He’d lost some of his cocky swagger and his gun seemed to weigh him down these days. He’d found a new hero, and just as quickly seen his hero shot down by a boy who mirrored his own need to prove himself. The mood was somber when Jacques, Kit, Isaac and Little Lou Hickok said goodbye. There were tears in Emma’s eyes, and in later years witnesses would attest that Teaspoon’s were pretty shiny as well. Jacques tried to avoid his father’s eyes when he shook his hand, but he couldn’t fail to notice a knowing look on Buck’s face, or the way he nodded his head slightly in tacit acknowledgement of some shared secret. Even Kit was unusually solemn, and Little Lou unusually well behaved. At last, Little Lou Hickok found herself before her father, trying to say the goodbye she’d wanted to say for so long. Jimmy looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry ‘bout Hunter.” he muttered. All other words forgotten, his daughter merely flung her arms around him and held on tight. Tears fought there way past her tightly clenched eyelids as she whispered, “I forgive you.” The group dispersed except Jimmy, Buck, and Cody who watched the four of them as they rode out towards the horizon. They were mere blurs of color on the landscape when there was a distant popping sound and the four riders could no longer be seen. Jimmy and Cody looked at each other puzzled. “What the hell was that?” Jimmy asked, never expecting an answer. “They’re going back to where they came from,” Buck said simply. “Where’s that?” Cody kept his eyes on their last known location. Buck shrugged, “The spirit world.” “Spirits, huh?” Jimmy asked, rubbing his chin and thinking over some things. Cody snorted derisively, “C’mon, Buck, spirits? First of all, if they was spirits why weren’t they all pale and see through like and flyin’ through the air? And second of all, why would spirits spend a week at the Sweetwater Pony Express station? Ain’t they got more important things to do?” Buck looked at Cody from the corner of his eyes, “Maybe they had something to teach us.” “Maybe,” Jimmy said gruffly. He wasn’t disbelieving what Buck said. In fact, it sort of comforted him to think that a greater power might have had a hand in the events of the past days. Cody was not so easily convinced, “Well, I don’t know about that – though that Kit sure ate more food than I ever seen a human being put away, I’ll tell you that.” He draped his arms over the shoulders of the other two and grinned at them, “Speaking of which, I’m starved. I bet Emma’s got breakfast on the table and today we don’t have to fight Kit over the bacon!” Buck and Jimmy exchanged glances as they followed him in, each thinking that with Cody around they never got any bacon anyway. CHAPTER FOUR The four of them were exhausted. They fell more than anything off their equally tired mounts when they saw Noah, Leigh, Will and Rachel. Nobody spoke. Those left behind were having difficulty remembering how and why they were out in the middle of nowhere at such an ungodly hour of the morning. Kit, Isaac, Jacques, and Lou were fighting off a tempting and black sleep that sat on their eyelids. The hazy atmosphere was broken by a shout and the thunder of approaching horses. “What in hell are you all doin’ out here?” asked Teaspoon as he rode up, looking over his grandchildren with surprise and suspicion. “You got your parents worked up into a frenzy, I can tell you that.” Buck rode up next and immediately noticed the pallor on his boys’ faces and the way Noah was supporting Leigh. He got off his horse with grace, trying to keep at an easy keel, “Anybody hurt?” he asked, looking pointedly at Noah. “Seamus threw me,” Leigh said, “but it’s just a bump on the head, nothing to worry about.” “What about the rest of ya?” Teaspoon’s voice had the ring of authority to it but was tinged with concern as he looked over Jacques, Isaac, Kit, and Lou. “Look like you all seen a ghost.” Isaac looked like he might have answered that comment, but Kid was on the scene, reigning in his horse next to Rachel. “You okay, honey?”  When he could see that she was, his jaw clenched in fury, “What were you thinkin’ runnin’ off last night? The whole lot of you! We wake up this morning and you’re all missin’. What if somethin’ had happened, what if one of you were hurt?” “Well, Emlee’s a doctor, Uncle Kid,” Kit answered lamely. Teaspoon had to chuckle, knowing full well that they weren’t likely to ever get to the bottom of the kids’ night time adventure. Furthermore, he felt a vague satisfaction that they were giving their parents a taste of their own medicine. “I ‘spect you’ll be in for it when we get back, Miss Kit,” he opined, “Your ma’s been hollerin’ her head off ‘bout how you been kilt by a bear.” “Mother?” Kit looked bewildered, something about Teaspoon’s statement had rung false and she had a feeling it had to do with the very idea of her snobby, spoiled mother in Rock Creek. There wasn’t time to think about it further. A palomino came prancing up to join them. Jimmy Hickok re-holstered his gun, “Everything alright out here?” The badge on his chest caught the sun and glared blindingly onto the prairie. He took a look at the four horses that were white with sweat, their eyes blinking wearily. “Have a tough ride, did we?” The tone of his voice was lecture enough, and they all bowed their heads sheepishly. But Little Lou found herself grinning in spite of herself, for just before she had felt a great sorrow – though for what reason she couldn’t fathom - and now she felt the wings of a great joy lifting her up. Her father winked at her, his eyes twinkled, and she knew he wasn’t really angry. ¨¨¨ The return to their homes had been mixed. Everyone was relieved to see them well, but there seemed no plausible excuse for the sudden disappearance the night before. Even levelheaded Jacques could only shrug his shoulders and say it seemed important at the time. Isaac noticed that his father had looked startled when they tried to explain the cloudless thunder that shook the prairie and he was not surprised when Buck took him aside some time later. “Isaac, what actually happened out there?” Isaac wasn’t sure how to answer. “I’ve heard that sound before,” Buck prodded and looked carefully at his son, as if seeing him for the first time. In the back of