Author's Note: All the lyrics quoted in this story are from Dave Dobbyn's wonderful album Available Light and each of the sections have taken their titles from one of his songs. I hope you enjoy his beautiful words as much as I do.
Part One:
And you will lose everything
Chapter One
i'm with you now to wash your pain away
Coleyville, Colorado Territory - September, 1865
She could feel him in the doorway before she saw or heard him. Although she knew a tightening in her shoulders had probably given her away under his watchful gaze, she continued to pretend she wasn't aware of his presence. Dropping the wet dish rag on the bench she started towards the door to the hallway, testing his resolve.
"Katie."
Stopping with her hand on the doorknob she turned slightly to look at him. The dim light in the kitchen cast a washed out glow across his features as he stood framed by the darkness behind him. He looked weary and a lot older than he was. His jaw firmly set and his stance painfully alert. Ready. Waiting. The crisp, biting air of the early fall night pushed its way in behind him.
"You're here late," he said simply when she didn't respond.
"I was on my own tonight. Joe couldn't leave Esther to come to work."
"'Course. We caught the guy not far out of town."
"Think he'll hang?"
He nodded. "I'll pay Joe a visit in the mornin'. Will Esther be alright?"
"Doc thinks her body will mend." It was the best answer she could give.
They were both silent for a while. The frigid breeze continued to hustle the warmth from the kitchen. The last of the restaurant's customers had left long ago and now the only sounds in the building were the ghosts of noises from the street. He was looking down at his feet, bowing under the weight either of the world on his shoulders or of the badge on his chest.
"Bill…"
His head snapped up as the name left her lips, jolting him back into reality. "I don't have long."
In acknowledgement of his words, she took a step towards him and he closed the remaining gap in a few quick strides. She reached her arms around his shoulders and, as he leant down and pressed his forehead and nose against hers, he let out a deep ragged breath. The same urgency was there as always, their kisses desperate and their hands demanding, their mutual need pushing them together. His hands pulled recklessly at her skirts while the weight of his body pushed her sharply back against the bench. That's the way life felt, now, she thought as he lifted her to sit on the edge of the worktop, her fist grasping the hair at the back of his neck; none of them seemed to have long anymore.
Jimmy stepped through the front door of the boarding house onto the boardwalk and pulled the collar of his jacket tighter around this neck. Only late September and yet the wind was bitter. Summer had come to a sudden halt and the whole town, after an initial period of disbelief, had started buckling down and preparing for a long, hard winter.
It would be Jimmy's first winter in the mining town of Coleyville and the hardened souls who'd spent a few up here in the mountains, working their claims diligently and constantly praying for that dream strike, had told him just what to expect. Despite their stories, however, Jimmy felt more at ease in this weather. Bleak and dreary were a good match for both his mood and his occupation - summer's sun and blue skies always felt incompatible with wanted posters, card games and dead men lying in the street. He shuddered and picked up his pace.
Two young boys slipped past him as he continued on to the jail, scurrying towards the chaotic jumble of tents which were pitched in the mud at the end of the street. The tents were home to a worryingly large number of new 'residents', all of whom had been drawn by the lure of wealth and adventure. Wondering just how confident and enthusiastic the newcomers would be after a winter spent sheltering in a canvas tent, Jimmy looked the two boys over and sighed. They were both rugged up as best they could in too-small clothing, scrawny ankles and wrists exposed to the chill.
"Mornin' Marshal," uttered the elder, with a fleeting hint of a smile.
Like summer, children were also incongruous with this life, Jimmy thought. The majority of this town's rough and ready population were men; tired and skeptical, made desperate by luck's capricious attention. Women and children were out of place here - too soft, too open for this sharp, grey world. Bound to get hurt. And dangerous, too, the women. It was too easy to let your guard down in response to a compassionate soul and a warm, welcoming body. The fella standing in the street and calling your name with a hand on his gun ain't gonna care if you're good at heart, if you used to be better than this. He's gonna kill you if you don't get there first.
Pushing open the door to the gloomy and draft-riddled jail and walking inside, Jimmy sighed as his gaze fell upon the pile of papers on top of his desk.
"Morning, Bill." Yellow grinned widely and waved an empty coffee cup in his direction with a questioning eyebrow twitch.
Jimmy nodded his assent and lowered himself into the chair behind his desk.
What a name for a lawman. When he'd first got the job of marshal he thought he was having his leg pulled when the incumbent deputy had introduced himself as Yellow. His real name was John Riley and Jimmy had still to learn where the universally used nickname had come from. But he'd soon found that, while quirky, Yellow was far from cowardly. Jimmy knew he could trust him with his back.
"Anything I need to know?" Jimmy asked wearily as Yellow approached the desk.
"Nope," the deputy answered as he placed the coffee in front of the marshal, who was sitting in the chair with his eyes closed and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
Yellow was used to the younger man arriving for work suffering from the effects of too little sleep and too much drink but, as yet, he hadn't noticed it having any detrimental effect on the work Hickok had been hired to do. It took a young man to be able to live like that, he thought to himself. Young and not set on living to be much older.
"Bit o' trouble in the street early this mornin' - Andy Patten with too much whiskey in his belly tryin' to cause a scene. Sent him home to his woman."
Jimmy snorted. "Lucky her."
"Hmm. Quiet night apart from that. The old boy back there ain't said boo all night," Yellow added jerking his head towards the cell at the back of the room.
Sitting on the paper-thin mattress on the cot in the single cell was the drifter Jimmy had chased down outside of town early yesterday evening. Filthy and ragged, the man hadn't made any attempt to protest when Jimmy caught up with him by the river and hauled him back into town. As if the description Esther Miller had given of her attacker hadn't been enough, Jimmy had found a torn fragment of the restaurateur's wife's undergarments in the man's pocket.
Jimmy made a mental note to get over to the Miller's place as soon as he could that morning and check on Joe and Esther. He knew he couldn't turn back time and stop the attack from happening, as he would have liked to, but at least he could assure Joe that the man who had hurt his wife was going to hang for the crime. Feeling the rumblings of a familiar rage beginning in the pit of his stomach, Jimmy looked away from the man in disgust and directed his gaze out the tiny window.
Katie Collins was walking slowly down the opposite side of the street.
All other thoughts instantly gone from his mind, Jimmy watched her progress as she made her way along the street to the restaurant.
Katie.
He thought of her last night, of the sense of calm and relief he always felt when he was with her, and he was filled with the irrational desire to go to her right then and there. He dismissed it immediately - that wasn't how things were between the two of them. Not a soul in town knew Bill Hickok and Katie Collins had ever said more than a dozen polite and impersonal words to each other and he wasn't about to let them find out the truth. But, Lord, he wanted her.
Yellow sensed Hickok's distraction, but looking out along the street couldn't find the cause of it. With a shrug he announced his departure.
"I'm headed home then, Bill, if ya don't need me. Nancy was bakin' yesterday and I fancy myself some of that apple pie before I turn in. I'll bring ya some in, shall I, when I'm back in this evenin'? Y'know how the woman worries 'bout your eatin'."
Jimmy returned this deputy's grin. "Thank her for me, Yella. Get yourself some rest."
Yellow ducked out of the jail only to stick his head back round the door moments later. "Mail came for ya, by the way. Somewhere under that heap of papers."
"Thanks," Jimmy muttered, giving the stack a sidelong glance.
Yellow headed off towards home and Jimmy was left with his thoughts.
Katie had stopped at the door of the restaurant, key in hand, and was talking with Mrs. Kilburn, whose husband owned the hardware store on the corner. He watched as the wind played with the one long strand of brown hair which had escaped her bonnet. She was nodding as the older woman talked and Jimmy could tell she was cold and wanting to be inside. Suddenly, as if aware that she was being watched, Katie glanced across the street in the direction of the jail. She looked away just as quickly, but it was enough to let Jimmy know that she was thinking about him. As Mrs. Kilburn kept talking, Katie reached up and tucked the stray strand of hair into her bonnet in a self conscious gesture.
Jimmy couldn't quite reconstruct the events which had first brought them together. He was used to the company of saloon girls these days. They saw him at his worst and they didn't care. They accepted him, even if he was paying them to do it, and Jimmy had been sure that was what he needed. But with Katie it was all different.
She was the kind of girl who, a lifetime ago, back in the Express days, he would have fallen head over heels for. These days he knew he wasn't worth it; that he wasn't good enough, but that didn't stop him needing her. And for some strange reason of her own, she needed him too.
For weeks there'd been a strange tension between them when they saw each other around the town. There'd been a long, unnatural pause when his hand had touched hers as he'd reached to hold open the door to the general store for her. They'd held each other's glances a fraction too long when they'd passed in the street. And then came the night when he'd wandered in the back door of the restaurant, expecting to see Joe and hoping for a bite of food, though he'd missed the eatery's trading hours. Instead he had come across Katie.
He remembered standing in the doorway staring back at her, then walking up to her without a word and holding her, kissing her. He remembered the pounding in his chest and his utter amazement when she'd kissed him back just as eagerly. He'd spoken to the woman maybe four times in the months since he'd arrived in town and here he was making love to her as though possessing her was the act that was going to save his life. It was like that every time.
"Damn." Jimmy shook his head, trying to clear his brain. He had work to do and that didn't include obsessing over Katie Collins. He picked up a chunk of papers, mostly wanted posters, and started thumbing through them. Most of this paperwork he should have dealt with weeks ago but instead he'd been moving it from place to place on the rickety old table which he used for a desk. Resolving to get the task done, he was just buckling down when the door flew open and Olaf Petersen, the proprietor of the town's only 'decent' hotel, walked into his office.
"Marshal, I've come to speak to you over a very important matter which I feel I need to bring to your attention and I insist," he said, holding up a hand when Jimmy opened his mouth to speak, "that you not put me off again. I've had you dismiss my concerns time and time again, Marshal, and have born it patiently…"
"Mr. Petersen…" Jimmy began.
"But no longer!" Petersen's voice rose to drown out Jimmy's interruption. "I must insist that you do something about those, those women and their apparent desire to destroy my livelihood! I run a respectable, dignified hotel, Marshal Hickok," he barked, waving his hand in the direction of the newly built two storey log building on the other side of the street. "And it is hardly in keeping with the salubrious surrounds of my property to have those fallen women sunning themselves on my very doorstep!"
"Mr. Petersen…" Jimmy tried again, raising himself from his chair to stand behind his desk.
"Two dollar whores!" Petersen roared, his patience gone. "Although I'm sure you would be much better acquainted with their rates than I, Marshal!"
"Mr. Petersen," Jimmy snapped, his patience going the same way as the hotelier's. "I've told you before that the boardwalk outside the hotel is not your property and there's nothing I can do to stop members of the public standing on it if they chose to do so. And besides anything, the folk around here ain't gonna care if Clarke's girls set up camp on your doorstep. Hell, it'll probably improve your trade!"
Petersen opened his mouth to speak but it was Jimmy's turn to hold up a hand. "I'm a busy man, Mr. Petersen," Jimmy stated, grabbing handfuls of his paperwork off the desk as a demonstration, "and I don't have time to…"
An envelope fluttering to the desk from the pile of papers in Jimmy's right hand caught his attention and the words he was about to speak died on his tongue. Petersen took the opportunity presented to him.
"If you could just speak to Clarke and tell him to keep his women in his saloon and away from my hotel…"
Jimmy wasn't listening to a word. The envelope had landed face down on his desk and he picked it up slowly. He knew the sender without reading a word, familiar as he was with the handwriting. He held it in his hands and looked down at it. Lou. Generally he tried his best not to think of her and the others, banished them from his thoughts as he had done from his presence. And so it always stopped his heart for a few moments when she pushed her way in with her letters. When was that girl going to give up?
"Marshal?" Petersen had stopped complaining and was looking at Hickok and the letter in his hands with a look of annoyance tempered with curiosity.
Jimmy snapped his attention back to the man standing before him and hastily shoved the letter in his pocket, as though its presence in the office had left him somehow vulnerable. "What? Yes, fine, whatever."
Petersen hadn't expected to win so easily. "Well, er, it's about time. Good day to you Marshal."
Once the hotelier was safely out of the office, Jimmy sank down into his chair with a sigh. He let his hand slip into his pocket and touch the letter, making sure it was really there, but didn't get it out. Then he shut all thoughts of Louise, the Express and Katie Collins out of his mind and got on with his work.
Chapter Two
baby's got big black eyes
i read you like a radar trained
lost eyes shattered and frayed
Hanmer Creek, Montana Territory - September, 1865
Lou sat on the porch with her small son in her lap. For just a moment she tried to put all the worry and concern from her mind and just enjoy him. His soft, wispy blonde hair, the constant movement of his chubby fingers as he played with the lace on the sleeve of her dress, the solidity and warmth of his sturdy little body nestled in against her.
Noah noticed Kid's arrival before Lou did and waved a chubby fist in response. Lou watched him approaching, making his way through the long grass then kicking up dust as he crossed the yard. He looked so tired, so despondent.
"Where's my big boy?" Kid called as he neared the porch.
Noah wriggled down from his mama's lap and made his way over to his father's outstretched arms. Half way there, however, he was distracted by an ant, crouched down to inspect it and paid his father no further attention.
Kid laughed resignedly, stepped up onto the porch and lowered his aching body onto the swing next to Lou. She slipped her hand through his arm and leant her cheek against his shoulder. They looked out towards the mountains and felt the cool breeze pass over their faces. It took Kid a moment to take in her attire.
"You're dressed up, sweetheart," he murmured. "Goin' someplace?"
"It's Sunday, Kid," Lou said patiently. "Church."
Kid brought a hand to his forehead. "Oh Lou, I'm sorry. I clean forgot what day it was. You been waiting for me long?"
"Not long," Lou assure him. "Don't worry about it."
Kid rose to his feet. "What time is it? If I got cleaned up quickly…"
Lou shook her head. "It's alright Kid, honestly. We'll go next week. Didn't really want to go anyway."
Kid noticed her gaze shift to where Noah was playing in the dirt and his heart sank a little. Sometimes she looked so young and pretty, like she didn't have a care in the world, and it made him feel like he wasn't failing her. Then she'd look at Noah that way or get lost in her own thoughts and he'd remember how things really were.
It worried him that she fretted so much about Noah; about the little boy being 'different' and the reactions he brought about in the townspeople. But what really broke his heart was the fact that she never spoke to him about her concerns. She was so careful around him, so aware of the fact that he was working himself to exhaustion to try to stop the ranch from going under, that she didn't want to add to his worries by sharing her own.
And if Kid were to be honest, he was doing exactly the same thing as Lou. He tried not to mention how desperate things were for them: the dead stock, the constant lack of funds. He'd be full of praise for the left-over stew he'd eaten for five meals in a row. He never mentioned the tattered state of his mended clothes and tried to hide the exhaustion and disillusionment which had replaced the wild enthusiasm which had driven him when they first arrived in Montana. So now, each evening, when they were in each other's company, they'd enter a state of false joviality, each trying to spare the other.
Kid sighed and reached out to take Lou's hands, pulling her to stand before him. "I promise I'll remember next week, Lou. We're respectable married folk, after all. Gotta make an appearance at church!" He grinned and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. "Why don't you and Noah call on Rachel today? It's been a few days now since Pat left; I'm sure she'd love a visit."
Lou fixed a smile on her face. "We just might do that. Can I fix you somethin' to eat before we go?"
"Sounds good," Kid nodded, happy to put off returning to work for a little bit longer.
"Stew alright?" Lou asked, disappearing into the house.
Kid sighed. "Great," he replied, scooping up Noah and following his wife inside.
Lou leaned back in her chair and watched her son with a contented smile. He was happily installed at Rachel's kitchen table putting little pieces of candy into his upturned hat. He was so clever with his fingers, able to manipulate such tiny little objects. It was always little things that took his interest and he'd spend hours on them, making little piles of pebbles, stroking leaves and feeling the bumps beneath his fingers. Lou delighted in these things, just as other mothers did in the first words which she had yet to hear.
She looked up to see Rachel watching Noah, too, a gentle smile on her face. She still looked drawn and a little sad, but there was color back in her cheeks which hadn't been there a few days ago. She'd looked like a ghost when Pat left; a ghost trying to put on a brave face.
It had been just like a paperback romance unfolding before your very eyes when Rachel Dunn and Pat Kelly had met back in Rock Creek. Lou smiled just to think of it, even these years later. He hadn't been your typical hero by a long way. He was ten years too old, his skin too weathered and his humor too bawdy to be your typical knight in shining armor, but when this Irish rogue broke into laughter you couldn't help but smile at the sheer joy of it. He knew a little bit about everything, was fiercely loyal to any person or cause he believed in and didn't seem to know a person who didn't count him as a friend. But it had been the twinkle in his eye which seemed to be reserved exclusively for Rachel that had won Lou and the others over and convinced them he wouldn't let her down.
It had been Pat who'd told them all about Montana. About the mountains and the fertile plains which rush up to meet them. About a sky that stretched on forever. He'd won Kid over with talk of land and opportunities, and Teaspoon with talk of trout that "jump clear out of the water and into your arms with smiles on their faces." That had been three years ago now and however hard times were for them at the moment, Lou would never regret the move.
Rachel and Pat were still, by all appearances, blissfully happy, installed in a small house just off the main street in town. Pat, however, had an uncontrollable wanderlust which Rachel, understanding him as she did, had never tried to cure him of. He was forever telling folks that "no man can prosper without his woman's leave" and that he loved his bride all the more for the liberty she granted him. This time he was on a long trip down to California, trapping along the way and turning his hand to a little prospecting with an old friend when he got there. For Rachel's sake, Lou hoped he satisfied his adventurous cravings sooner rather than later.
"Noah's getting so big, Lou," Rachel commented, breaking the silence and drawing Lou from her thoughts.
"Sure is," Lou replied, reaching out to stroke her son's head. "And he's lookin' more and more like the Kid, even with that blonde hair."
Rachel laughed; Cody had delighted in the little boy's blonde locks at his last visit and given Kid a lot of suggestive ribbing.
"And how is Kid? I haven't seen him in a while now."
"He's good. He's Kid," Lou smiled unconvincingly. "Working hard. We might be buying some new stock in a couple of weeks."
Rachel doubted the truth of those words, but held her tongue. When she and Teaspoon had spoken yesterday, Rachel had agreed that she would talk to Louise about her family's troubles, while Teaspoon would tackle Kid. She could tell, however, that now wasn't the time.
They were too proud and too stubborn, the pair of them, for their own good and there was very little their friends could do to help them. Rachel just wished she could see them happy and relaxed again.
"Oh!" she cried with sudden inspiration. "I've got something for you that's guaranteed to put a smile on that pretty little face of yours."
Lou watched with interest as Rachel walked over to the mantelpiece and retrieved a small white envelope. Lou's heart skipped a beat involuntarily.
"This came for you a couple of days ago. I take it Kid still doesn't know he's writing to you?"
Lou took the offered envelope. "Hasn't seemed like the best time to tell him," she admitted quietly. "Kid's still awful angry with him - I don't think he'd like it."
Rachel shook her head slowly. "Those boys…"
Lou sat looking at the envelope, running her fingers along the edges. After a moment she became aware that Rachel was watching her expectantly and Lou realized she was waiting for her to read the letter aloud. She wasn't to know that there would be little or nothing to read.
Standing abruptly, Lou pushed the letter into her purse and turned to Noah. "I'm sorry, Rachel," she said over her shoulder to the older woman as she hoisted her son to her hip. "We've got to head home. Noah needs a nap and I…"
"That's fine, honey, you run along home."
If Rachel was disappointed at being excluded from the correspondence, she didn't show any sign. Instead she gave the little blonde boy a kiss on the forehead and walked them to the door.
"Promise me you'll all come to dinner this week, though, Louise," Rachel called as Lou began to walk away from the house. "I'm already sick of eating on my own. I'll ask Teaspoon as well."
Lou waved her assent and continued on her way at a brisk pace. Once she was out of sight of the town she lowered Noah to the ground with the warning not to run off, and dug into her purse. The envelope was open in seconds and the contents were found to be more or less the same as always. A thin wad of notes enclosed in a single sheet of paper. Leaving the notes in the envelope, Lou slipped out the sheet of paper and read the few words printed on it.
Take care, Lou. Jimmy.
Lou laughed quietly to herself as she tried to hold back the tears. That was the most she'd got out of Jimmy Hickok in over a year.
With a sigh, Lou steeled herself, slipped the folded 'letter' back into her purse and thumbed through the notes. She'd give them up without a second thought in exchange for a letter of substance from her friend, but they were still going to come in awful useful.
The money was a large part of why she had no plans of telling Kid about her correspondence with Jimmy. He'd be furious if he knew Jimmy had sent them his savings and madder still if he knew that it had been going on since a couple of months after Jimmy had disappeared. Lou had never once asked for any kind of assistance, let alone money, and after the first amount arrived she'd written an angry letter in response. But times were so hard and she knew they needed the money to stay afloat. She also knew it was the only way Jimmy could find to make up for letting them down so badly. So she'd tucked the money away at home and dipped into it only when necessary. Necessary, though, was becoming more and more frequent.
Louise started to walk slowly towards home, Noah trotting along at her side, and was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the rider approaching until he was nearly upon her.
"Mrs. McCloud, it's a pleasure."
"Mr. Fletcher," Lou squinted up at the gentleman as he sat atop his horse, positioned between her and the sun. "What brings you out this way?"
"I was hoping for a word with your husband, actually. We have some business dealings to discuss."
There was something in the man's tone, something he was implying, which Lou didn't like or trust. She reached out surreptitiously with her left hand and took a grip of Noah's collar, pulling him in behind her. His small hand pushed its way into hers.
James Fletcher was what you would call a 'prominent citizen' of the town. He hadn't lived there long, arriving only shortly before the McClouds, the Kellys, Teaspoon and Buck had made Hanmer Creek their home. In that short time he had acquired one of the saloons, the barbers shop and a large parcel of land. According to Teaspoon, Fletcher seemed to think he owned the office of marshal. He'd met his match when Teaspoon took over but that didn't stop him trying. James Fletcher was forceful, determined and thought everything was for sale.
"Perhaps I might walk a ways with you, Mrs. McCloud?" Fletcher suggested quietly.
Lou protested quickly, ensuring him that she understood that he was a busy man and needed to be on his way, but Mr. Fletcher had dismounted and was standing beside her before the last of the words were out of her mouth. Trying to make the best of a bad situation she struck out purposefully toward home, wishing she's taken the buckboard to Rachel's instead of letting Noah have a walk.
Mr. Fletcher kept pace easily beside her. He grinned to himself at the sight of the slightly flustered young woman dragging her simpleton child along in her wake. She knew her place. She knew he was a man to be wary of.
"I understand times have been hard, Mrs. McCloud. Your husband is finding it a little more difficult than he thought to keep your 'ranch' running, I take it?"
Lou cast him a sharp look but kept walking. "Not at all, Mr. Fletcher. We're doing very well. In fact, my husband expects to purchase some new stock at the end of the month."
Fletcher let his head dropped back as he laughed. "Truly, Mrs. McCloud? Well, my talk with your husband needn't be as unpleasant as I had expected. I take it he has my money?"
This brought Lou up short. She looked at the well dressed man now standing in front of her and tried to fathom what he was saying. Kid had borrowed money from Fletcher? He'd gone to this awful, patronizing man and begged for assistance? As much as she didn't want to believe it, the sinking feeling in her stomach told her it was true.
"Am I to understand from your surprised expression that he didn't tell you?" Fletcher asked, knowing full well the answer. "I'm sure he did what was best, Mrs. McCloud… Louise?"
"Mrs. McCloud," Lou snapped, trying to summon up some confidence. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Fletcher, I need to be getting my son home."
As Lou brushed past him, gripping Noah's hand firmly, Fletcher reached out and took hold of her arm, turning her to face him. In the brief moment before he kissed her, Lou saw that the look on his face had turned from amused indifference to something harder to interpret. The shock of feeling his lips on her face, his body close to hers, coursed through her and she stumbled backwards, nearly knocking Noah over in the process.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she shouted, rage making her voice ragged.
Fletcher laughed again, unperturbed. "Come now, Mrs. McCloud, a woman in your position would do well to make herself a little more pleasing."
"You're disgusting," Lou snapped, backing away with Noah in tow. The little boy had been surprised by the shouting and was watching his mother with wide eyes.
"And you are in debt," Fletcher leered. "A lot of debt. I might be persuaded to take some payment in kind, however."
Lou's blood ran cold but she did her best to hide it. "Don't be ridiculous."
She continued backing up, not wanting to turn her back on the man, but now he was walking towards her. When he took her by the shoulders she let go of Noah's hand, unwilling to have him dragged along with her. She felt Fletcher's fingers biting into the flesh of her upper arms, his body pressed up close to hers and his face bending towards her neck. "Don't," she hissed.
When he ignored her warning Lou wrenched free an arm and managed to strike him about the head with all the strength as she could muster. Faltering only for a moment, Fletcher recovered himself and hit Lou with the back of his hand with such force that she fell backwards and landed in the dirt. The little boy began to wail.
Stunned briefly, Lou began to prepare to defend herself but quickly realized Fletcher was no longer even looking at her. His attention had been drawn to something on the ground a couple of yards from where she had fallen. Following the line of his gaze she realized her purse had fallen and its contents were scattered over the ground. Fletcher stooped and picked up Jimmy's money, his eyebrows raised. "And where have you come by this, Mrs. McCloud?" he asked scornfully.
Feeling the blood trickle from her split lip as she spoke, Lou replied steadily. "It's a friend's."
Fletcher looked from the small wad of money to the dirt-covered woman picking herself up off the ground. There would be time for this later, when that pathetic child wasn't howling in the background. He slipped the money inside his coat pocket. "I'll pay you a call later in the week, Mrs. McCloud, to arrange for you to pay the rest of your installments. Try to have yourself cleaned up by then."
"What in god's name makes you think you won't be locked up in jail by the end of the day, Fletcher?" Lou cried in outrage, knowing she should keep quiet but unable to do so.
"Because, Mrs. McCloud," Fletcher murmured, taking a single step towards her. "You're a woman who has only her own word as proof of this incident; a woman who has reason enough to make up this little episode in order to free her husband from his obligation to pay off his debt. And, most importantly, you're a woman whose husband has handed over to me the deed to his property as security for his loan. You'll say nothing or you'll be off that property before you can blink. Good day."
Fletcher had mounted his horse and ridden off in moments, leaving Lou stunned and defeated. She realized Noah was still crying and drew the little boy to her, whispering words of comfort into his downy hair.