Disclaimer: I love spaghetti westerns and this is my way of paying homage => This is an attempt at Alternative Reality, most of the characters (hopefully) should be familiar => No copyright infringement is intended.

Unknown

The bullet slid into the chamber smoothly, noiselessly. A flick of the wrist and the soundless spin revealed the final open slot.

He squinted against the sun, his green eyes narrowed to slits, watching the three men dismount. A humorless smile twisted his lips for a moment as he slipped the last bullet into the chamber.

***

The three men looked at each other and then looked away, not willing to admit that the fear they saw in their companion's eyes was reflected in their own. Squaring their shoulders, they moved forward to the saloon, each step matched pace by pace, as they had been trained. With one final swallow of courage, they stepped inside.

Three shots rang out in perfect harmony, one so quickly after another they blended together in a wail.

Then ....

Silence.

After a moment, a single pair of spurs could be heard against the weathered boards and the swinging doors of the saloon squeaked in protest as a lone man stepped outside.

He adjusted his black hat on his chestnut hair, brushed down his poncho and stepped across to his patiently waiting horse.

Mounting without effort, his black outfit blended into the coat of his black horse, lending the impression of a shadow of a man, not of this world. He turned briefly in the direction of the saloon, where the doors swung slower and slower and made a slight "Tsk, tsk," as he shook his head in disappointment. His green eyes glittered as he pulled down on the hat once more.

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

"By the laws of this state, the accused, Seymour 'Wild Boy' Birkoff, is found guilty of the following crimes against humanity: robbery, attempted kidnaping, conspiracy against the government ..." the pompous voice of the hangman echoed throughout the city square. A crowd gathered to watch, some faces reflecting pity and regret and some reflecting the avid curiosity and greed of concealed blood thirst.

Seymour Birkoff swallowed, felt the rope around his neck scrape his throat, and bit the inside of his lower lip to still its trembling as he listened to the list of his 'crimes' lengthen and grow. He blinked myopically, scanning the crowd, trying to discern a single face, the face of an angel, his angel, the one who would rescue him.

The face he did not see.

"... for these crimes, the accused is sentenced to be hanged by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on your soul," the voice finally wound down. Hands reached behind Seymour's head to give the noose an unnecessary jerk and then he was alone, looking out into the sea of faces, unable or unwilling to help him, as he waited for his final moments on earth.

The hangman pulled the lever.

His body dropped.

The rope tightened.

A shot rang out.

Seymour fell to the ground, the rope severed, the noose still hanging around his neck, but the tension released. He gasped for air *sweet air* as he staggered upright.

A war cry was heard and a series of shots rang out. Hands which had been reaching for their guns were stilled as they watched hats whiz by, propelled by bullets, and again they heard the holler that stirred the still air.

A blonde angel rode straight into the crowd, her white horse cutting a path through the cattle-like throng, a grin splitting her beautiful face as she hollered out the war cry once again and people scattered. "Come on, Birky. Let's go!" she called as she reached out a hand for his bound wrists. She swung him onto the horse behind her and they thundered out of town, well ahead of any pursuers.

***********

Any other day he would have enjoyed the sounds of her heels clicking across the floor. There was something essentially feminine about the sound that brought a tightening to his groin.

Any other day he would have enjoyed the rustling of her petticoats as they brushed against the silk of her gown. It always brought to mind the sound of removing those confining garments.

Any other day he would have savored the scent of wildflowers that followed in her wake. She always smelled so clean and fresh except when she was in the midst of passion, then she smelled like a wild woman, his wild woman.

Any other day the melodious tone of her voice would have thrilled him and brought memories of soft sighs and panted demands.

Any other day, but not today.

"She did it again!" her voice shrilled higher as the list of complaints grew. "This time in broad daylight!" She paused in her pacing, her hands clenched tightly into fists and her face unbecomingly and unfamiliarly flushed with color.

He sighed and lifted the shot glass to take another drink, "Now, Maddy ..."

"Don't call me that! And take your feet off of my table!" she shrieked as she pushed his crossed feet off of the table with more force than necessary so that they clonked onto the floor, his spurs jingling violently.

"Ummph." He manfully ignored the bolt of pain that shot up his calves and slowly, with great deliberation, placed his shot glass on the now clear table. Standing, he pulled himself up to his full height and, in an attempt at intimidation, towered over her.

She planted her hands on her hips and tossed her head back, clearly not intimidated by his display. Her brown eyes sparkled with fury, her breasts heaving, the upper slopes thrown into utmost prominence against the tight fitting bodice.

His blue eyes lingered on the full bosom tempting him so. Suddenly it all became too much for him to endure. He made a grab for her. "You drive me wild when you are like this," he hissed, his voice thick with lust.

She squirmed against his embrace, pulling her head away from his kiss. "Don't even think about it. As a matter of fact, you can just go without until you fix my little 'problem,'" her voice chilled the air so thoroughly, the chandelier hanging above them trembled in response.

It's unmanly to pout, so he frowned instead. "Now, Madeline, you know I'm working on the problem," he said, his own tone wheedling and unbelievably placating. He tried for another kiss.

"Forget it and don't let me catch you sniffing around any of the girls," she threatened him.

It took a stronger man than him to stand up to her when she was in this kind of mood.

"You know I have to be careful," he growled as he pulled her tighter. "I have to obey the law."

"HA!" she scoffed, "And what would you ..." she flicked a disdainful finger against the star on his vest, "Sheriff Wolfe, know about the law?" she sneered.

***********

---- Hmmm .... Biblical transgressions warning ----

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The black stallion's hooves rhythmically sounded in the momentary stillness of the day.

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"Release me, I know where you live--where Satan has his throne. You have people there who hold to the teaching of Balaam, who taught Balak to entice the Israelites to sin by eating food sacrificed to idols and by committing sexual immorality. Likewise you also have those who hold to the teaching of the Nicolaitans. Repent therefore! Otherwise, I will soon come to you and will fight against them with the sword of my mouth." (1) (1) Deliberate mis-use of Revelations 2:12

The man in black twirled the unlit cigar across his mouth and ignored the screaming from the gaunt man tied casually face down across the back of the brown gelding following behind him as the edge of town came into view.

"By your actions, you mislead my servants into sexual immorality and the eating of food sacrificed to idols. I have given you time to repent of your immorality, but you are unwilling. So I will cast you on a bed of suffering, and I will make those who commit adultery with you suffer intensely, unless they repent of your ways. I will strike your children dead. Then all the churches will know that I am he who searches hearts and minds, and I will repay each of you according to your deeds. Repent, repent now and release me from my unjust captivity." (2) (2) Deliberate mis-use and editing of Revelations 2:18

Ignoring the stares that his captive was provoking, he glided his black stallion up to the local sheriff's office/jail, dismounted and flipped the reins across the post. By now there was a crowd of bored, ever looking for something - anything - to do or watch, people surrounding the jail at a respectful distance, their eyes riveted to the scene. With minimal effort the man in black pulled his still screaming captive off of the horse and placed him on the porch of the sheriff's office. With his hands and feet still tied as well as having the blood rushing out of his head, his captive was unlikely to escape.

The man in black entered the sheriff's office, leaving the door open to keep a wary eye on his captive, just in case, and wordlessly pulled out a piece of paper. Scrawled under a crude but distinct likeness of his captive were the words "The Preacher - Wanted Dead Or Alive - $1,000 Reward."

Sheriff Paul Wolfe looked up at the man who laid the paper on his desk and his blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was something about the way this, so far, silent man carried himself, something about the contained silence, the potential for seemingly endless patience ...

"I take it that's 'The Preacher' screaming out on my porch?" the sheriff asked dryly.

The cigar twirled. "Yes," a slight accent flavored the word.

"Davenport, go check it out," the sheriff called out to one of his deputies. The man in black moved back a step to allow the deputy to lead the way back out onto the porch.

"You are my witnesses, behold with your own eyes ... another of the soul-less creatures faces us now." The wild black hair, close beady dark brown eyes and beak nose all lend to the nickname 'The Preacher' bringing to mind a Fire and Brimstone Haranguer assuring you that you were going straight to hell, but you could be saved ... for a price.

"Ah, shut up Sparks," Davenport called out calmly and kicked The Preacher's bound feet to the side so he could make a positive identification. "It's him, Sheriff," Davenport confirmed.

The Sheriff stepped out onto the porch and pulled out the reward money, counting it out to the silent stranger.

"See you all, witness the exchange of blood money. You have sold my body to the devil you foul minion of Satan, but you shall never have my soul. If there is an ounce of decency left in you, you will spend every penny of that tainted money on the church. Donate it in my name and you will begin your long path toward salvation. To him who overcomes and does my will to the end, I will give authority over the nations ... "

The man in black slipped the money underneath his poncho and looked around the town. Across the street and a little way down the road the cheerful sign "The White Room" swung in the breeze. Just opposite it another sign proudly proclaimed "Red Cell Saloon." With a nod to the sheriff and his deputy, who was ushering the still ranting captive into the jail, he stepped off the porch, collected the reins and his horse, and headed down the street.

***********

The white horse slowed to a halt as the duo looked over their respective shoulders and saw no signs of pursuit. The blonde woman leaned forward and lightly patted her horse's sweating flanks. "Thanks ole girl. You did good." The horse whinnied and shook her head in reply.

A few steps later the blonde pulled the horse to a complete halt and dismounted with the grace of a dancer. Grinning widely, she reached out to help 'Wild Boy' Birkoff off the back of her now resting mount.

"Thought I had forgotten you, didn't you?" she teased in a light voice as she loosened and removed the non-defunct noose.

Birkoff sighed involuntarily as the grim reminder of his close call was finally gone and coughed to clear his throat. "No, I knew you would be there," he boldly asserted, his voice a little worse for wear.

The blonde laughed, a tinkling sound full of amusement. "Bull, I saw your face," she whipped a sharp wicked looking blade out of her thigh sheath and sliced through the ropes holding his hands tied in front of him with one quick swipe.

"Damn, every time you bring that thing out, I'm surprised," Birkoff laughed nervously. "I know you have it, but still ..."

The blonde patted her thigh as she slipped the knife back into the almost invisible sheath. "I like it," she commented, watching as he untwined his hands and threw the rope on the ground next to the noose. "Don't forget to bury it, less chance of them being able to pick up our trail," she reminded him as she turned back to her horse which had sauntered over to the only bit of shade available.

"Nik?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks ... I mean it."

She flashed a smile over her shoulder. "Hey, couldn't let them get my thinker, right?" she teased.

Birkoff blushed and scuffed the ground with his boot, breaking the dry dirt to dig a hole. "Everyone else make it out all right?"

"Yep. Maddy's money is already distributed," Nik chuckled. "Wouldn't I have liked to have seen her face," she busted out laughing, her whole body shaking at the mental image her thoughts have produced.

Birkoff grinned despite himself and pushed the dirt back over the now-filled hole, tamping down on it, flattening the ground as best as he could. "She came by and questioned me while I was in the jail. She's a meeeeeaaaaaan woman," Birkoff shared, stretching the word out.

Nik straightened, her laughter drying up like a well during a drought. "She's a bitch, never forget that. Never let her too close to you Birky, I'm telling you," she warned, her voice deadly serious.

Birkoff shrugged but didn't reply to this often heard pronouncement. No one knew what all Maddy had done to Nik, but it must have been pretty bad. Maddy was the only person he'd ever seen Nik truly hate and considering some of the scum they had encountered in the past, that was pretty amazing.

***********

Madeline pulled her corset up a bit and reached into the bodice to push her breasts into more prominence. *That should do it, one peek of cleavage and men turn into idiots.* Rustling her skirts straight, she headed out to the main room.

Smoke, alcohol and unwashed bodies blended into the sounds of laughter, feminine squeals and cards shuffling. Madeline looked around the room, pleased to see it was almost full. She sauntered over to the bar and raised a finger. The bartender dutifully brought over a cup of water. Madeline had learned long ago, it never paid to indulge while working. She roamed a professional eye over the room noting the locals as well as a few drifters. One of the traditional card games was going on in the corner and that's where her eyes stayed. Sitting with his back against the wall, his hat tilted back to reveal a strong boned intelligent face with brooding green eyes, was the stranger Paul had talked to her about. She recognized him from the generalized description Paul had provided. What Paul had not mentioned was the absolute animal magnetism of the man. Several of her girls were hanging around the table putting up with advances from the other players while paying intense attention to the stranger. The stack of money in front of the stranger was significantly larger than his opponents' and Madeline's fine sense of trouble kicked in as she noted the dissatisfaction on his opponents' faces. To her relief, after winning one last hand, the stranger stood up, collected his money and left the table. The girls scampered after him, accompanying him to the bar.

"I need a room." His voice, a whisper of some mesmerizing accent, low and firm, made itself heard over the clamor without apparent effort.

The bartender paused in his cleaning to glance up at the stranger and then over to Madeline. With a nod in Madeline's direction he went back to cleaning the counter, watching from the corner of his eye.

The stranger turned to face Madeline, tipped his hat at the girls all but clinging to him, "Ladies," and disengaged himself from the feminine crowd.

Madeline watched with greedy eyes as he moved over to where she waited. She unconsciously stood straighter, turning to present her best side as well as leaning back a little to display her body at its best advantage. She liked the way he walked, his natural panther prowl, the sleek hard body moving with a grace that would seem feminine on a less masculine man. She watched his fine-boned hands brush aside a curl as he settled his hat back on his head.

"Ma'am. I guess I need to talk to you about a room?"

Madeline closed her eyes momentarily as she tried to discern where the accent was from but she could not place it. Opening her eyes she found herself drawn to his sensual mouth.

"Will you need it for one or two?" she asked, her voice a throaty whisper. Madeline contemplated how long it had been since she took to a man's bed for her own pleasure.

"Ma'am?"

"How long will you need it and will you be needing some company?" She leaned forward, striving to put the right amount of implied intimacy into her tone.

"Just a couple of nights and I prefer to be alone," the stranger answered, his lips twitching in suppressed amusement.

Madeline pulled back, her eyes burning with resentment at her rebuffed offer and the stranger's apparent amusement at it. *No one speaks to me like that.*

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

"Hey Sugar, glad to see you made it. Brought back Wild Boy as well." Walter's cheerful voice welcomed the two travelers. Nik smiled and hugged the older man, skirting the bonfire he was cooking at. Several other voices joined his greeting and Nik nodded to her troops.

"As you can see, Wild Boy and I made it just fine," she stated, looking around the camp.

Behind them Birkoff muttered something about that 'damn' nickname but said nothing distinctly. He cleaned the eyeglasses Nik had brought with her and started to search the camp fires spread out over the desert.

***

"So, what happened to Birkoff?" Walter whispered later as the camp settled down for the night. The padded steps of the sentries made a rhythmic sound to sleep by.

Nik affectionately regarded the old man who saved her life. "They hung him," she drawled casually, smiling inwardly at Walter's start of disbelief.

"Hung him?"

"Yep. I got there just in time to see him drop down. Good thing you taught me how to ride and shoot or Wild Boy would be Dead Boy," she stated with dead calm, never cracking a smile.

Walter looked at the blonde woman by his side for a moment in stunned silence and then began to cackle in amusement. "Oh Sugar, you do know how to scare an old man. Course," he leered at her in a friendly manner, "that's not the only emotion you evoke," he finished wiggling his eyebrows at her in his best lecherous manner.

Nik smiled, "Walter, I've got three days of dust on me and I smell like horse sweat, you must be hard up."

"I'm always 'hard up' around you, Sugar."

Nik laughed and smacked him lightly on the shoulder, causing a small puff of dust to fly up before settling back on his clothing. "Go to bed ... alone," she added before he could continue with a comment she knew he was dying to make.

***********

The man in black laid on the bed Madeline had finally consented to rent to him at an outrageous price. So dominating was his presence, the ruffles and frills of the bedspread appeared at odds with his masculine shape instead of him appearing out of place in the obviously feminine room. His lips twitched as he remembered Madeline's blazing brown eyes damning him to hell as she quoted a price that would have broken any other man. Instead he had nodded his head and calmly paid out the money. She had not liked the subtle rejection, not at all. A grin broke out as he also remembered the change in her demeanor as she eyed the roll of bank notes he had tucked back into his pocket. He knew he would have to watch out for her, knew it surer than the information George had given him prior to this assignment.

*This assignment, his last assignment,* he sighed. He was getting tired of it all. He had paid his dues, redeemed what was left of his soul. He just wanted out. With an effort, he pulled his mind back to business. He contemplated Sheriff Wolfe. The man was older than he had believed he would be, but tough. He remembered the report, Wolfe had served in the military, had done a damn fine job as well, but then ... he had gotten a taste of power and found he liked it. He felt the Sheriff suspected him already. Hell, Wolfe was not stupid, just ambitious and without scruples, but George had never called him stupid.

The man in black did not believe in intuition, he believed in pure logic, and logic told him that somehow Madeline was mixed up with the Sheriff. There had been something about the way she had looked at him when she first came into the room, as though she had already known he was in town. He could well imagine her actually directing Wolfe's little dastardly deeds. Still, if this country was ever going to solidify, men like Wolfe had to be stopped. That's where he came in.

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

Sheriff Wolfe took another drag on his cheroot, slowly releasing a stream of pungent smoke, the cheroot's glowing end the only light in the room. He contemplated the message he had received from his source and the coincidental timing of the man in black. He knew, even prior to getting the cryptically worded message, that the government was watching his corner of the world. He knew they lusted after his lands ... after his territory ... after his power. He could feel their greedy grasping hands reaching out, trying to snatch everything he had worked for, everything he had planned and schemed for. He knew the man in black was no ordinary bounty hunter, no ordinary scum making his living by turning on and in his fellow scum. No, there was something about that young man, something in the smooth way he moved, something in the soulless quality of his eyes, something in the careful precision of his speech, that young man wanted something, needed something.

Sheriff Wolfe's lips lifted in a humorless smile as he wondered if the man in black had gotten something he wanted tonight at Maddy's place. He knew as soon as he saw the young man that Maddy would want him, desire him, ensnare him and break him. It was her speciality and Lord did that woman love her work!

Sheriff Wolfe shifted on the suddenly hard and unyielding mattress as his thoughts ran to the inevitable conclusion of the night the man in black was spending as a "guest" of Madeline.

With a gusting sigh Sheriff Wolfe pulled his mind back to the note. His deceased wife's sister worked in the government offices directly dealing with land acquisition. It had been easy enough to work the old "Wolfe Magic" on her to discover some of the inner workings of that office. A few casual words dropped here and there during his visits "back home" to see family and he had been able to snatch up some mighty tasty parcels of land, parcels that just happened to be where the new railroad was coming through, parcels that just happened to be right in the middle of the territory, all but one anyway.

Sheriff Wolfe scratched his hand automatically, the thought of that little bitch always made him itch. She was a constant thorn in his side, an ant at his picnic, a mosquito in his quiet night. She was so unreasonable, she refused to sell and she was damned near impossible to move off. Who knew she would hold such a grudge? Most of the women that ended up at Maddy's place learned to like it but not that one, oh no. She had to fight them every inch of the way, squealing and biting, kicking and scratching. It had become dangerous to leave a man alone with her so they could conclude their business and it was a rare man indeed who could perform with an armed guard protecting him every minute.

Sheriff Wolfe chucked nastily, *maybe there is a way to kill two rats with one stone.*

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

The man in black rose early and treated himself to a breakfast he did not have to cook. Perhaps that added an additional spice to the meal, perhaps not, either way it tasted better than the last several breakfasts he had endured. Then again, maybe it was the absence of The Preacher that enriched the food. He made sure to leave a healthy tip for his waiter, the erstwhile Bartender, and wandered over to the barber shop for a bath and shave.

***

Stretched out in the claw-footed tub, the man in black pondered his next move. It seemed he would have to come up with a legitimate reason to stay in town, especially with both Madeline and Sheriff Wolfe watching him. He had noticed several bounty notices in the jail yesterday. He should probably go back and see if there is anyone of interest hanging on the wall, specifically anyone relatively close by. His lips twisted in a small quirk of the mouth at the thought that he might actually be working for Sheriff Wolfe after all. *George would love that.* He immediately dismissed the notion of trying to integrate himself into the Sheriff's team. Sheriff Wolfe was too suspicious of him already.

The man in black glanced up as he heard the tip-tap of feminine shoes hurrying across the barber shop floor. The door to the bathing room swung open despite the shouts of male outrage echoing in the background. Madeline stood in the doorway, vibrant in the morning air, her gown a clinging cascade of yellow. Two yellow feathers stuck out of her rakish little hat, standing at attention.

The man in black tipped his hat and took the still unlit cigar out of his mouth. "Ma'am?"

Madeline stepped into the room letting the door swing shut behind her. Her mouth puckered into a considering moue and an eyebrow arched as she surveyed his still lounging figure in the tub of water, all of which was visible.

"You might at least cover yourself up," she stated as her eyes covetously moved over his body.

"You might at least knock," he countered sardonically, not moving except to place the cigar back into his mouth.

Madeline sniffed indignantly, pretending an outrage, but not leaving the room.

"I have an employment opportunity, if you are interested."

The man in black narrowed his eyes. "I'm always interested in money. What are you proposing?"

Madeline smiled as she began to pace in a circle around the tub, her eyes lingering on the view.

"It's simple really, there is this ... pest that has been robbing my coaches. The Sheriff cannot seem to do anything about her. I would pay you thirty pieces of silver to bring her in. She owes me money besides what she has stolen from me."

***********

Nik returned the women's smiles as she walked through the base camp. Since she had started taking in those who had been deprived of their lands by Sheriff Wolfe's underhanded and downright illegal tactics, she had grown used to living among a number of people. Certainly the ranch was full of helping hands nowadays, especially compared to the sorry state it had been in when she had originally lost it to the Sheriff.

Nik still had nightmares about the day Sheriff Wolfe had ridden onto her land, straight up to the front door, and told her in no uncertain terms a woman could not hold property in his territory and unless she could produce a male relative he would have to confiscate the land for "her own good." Nik had shown him the business end of her shotgun, her eyes still blurred from coming from her parent's graveside, and ordered him off of her land, but she had known that war had been declared. Sheriff Wolfe had shown himself to be a man of no principles and even fewer scruples as he had systematically destroyed her supply lines, her credit and her employees. Two had remained with her, loyal to her family and herself, Birkoff and Gail, but the others had quit, either fearing for their lives or tempted by Sheriff Wolfe's offers. She had resisted as long as she could but in the end it was a simple matter for Wolfe's team to just take her, screaming and kicking out of the door and straight to Madeline's.

Nik spat at the thought of her first meeting with Madeline. The woman had sauntered into the room where Nik was tied to the chair, looked down her dainty nose at her and declared, "She stinks. Bathe her and bring her to me." And so began the darkest period of Nik's life.

With a great shudder and tremendous will, Nik pulled her mind back to the present. *Thank the Good Lord for 'Uncle' Walter and his little piece of paper.*

In another couple of days Madeline's men would be heading out. Nik smiled as she anticipated the feeling of relieving Madeline of more of her ill-gotten gains. The town of Section One was too small to merit a bank so Madeline had to send her paper money off to Oversight to be traded into gold and silver. Nik had learned enough about Madeline during her short stay in her house to know Madeline was squirreling away the hard metals in anticipation of the day the territory became a state. Nik was only too happy to relieve her of the paper money on occasion and the metal money more frequently.

Nik hummed to herself as she headed to the main house. Since she did not keep any of the money or the metal for herself, but instead distributed the booty to those who had been decimated by the dastardly duo, she felt relatively innocent of any wrong doing.

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

Deputy Davenport sighed and took another sip of whiskey. He placed the shot glass on the desk in front of him and dutifully tried to ignore the muffled feminine screams from the back. Despite his knowledge of the sheriff's tastes, this duty was the hardest to endure. Chris Davenport had been involved for a long time with the town's teacher, Miss Lucy, and although they had never had sex, he knew enough about genuine passion to know that what the sheriff was listening to was the kind of playacting you could see up on the makeshift stage when Miss Lucy's students put on a production for their parents, about the same caliber of quality as well.

Still, it did a man no good to have to sit and listen.

The door swung open and the stranger walked inside, his spurs jingling quietly against the hard wood floor of the Sheriff's office.

"Howdy." Deputy Davenport greeted the stranger with wary fascination. The Sheriff had hissed that this man was a "plant," a "spy" for the government and Chris could see where the Sheriff had gotten that idea. The stranger moved quietly, his dark clothes blending him into the shadows and those luminous green eyes seemed to see right into one's soul. Chris smiled, unconsciously delighted. If the Sheriff felt that way, it was no wonder he hated the man in black so much, for the Sheriff's soul did not like daylight very much.

The man in black nodded in greeting and sauntered over to the bounty wall, peering at the posters nailed up there.

Chris watched, wondering if the stranger would bite on the Sheriff's bait. The Sheriff had come in with a new poster that morning, a huge smile on his face as he had banged the nail into the wood with more vigor than was necessary. He had turned to Chris, chuckling, patted the poster and laughed out loud. "Let's see if we can't use our boy in black to take care of our problem," the Sheriff had cackled.

Before Chris had been able to ask a question or even look at what the Sheriff had posted, a timid knock had sounded on the door and Terry had stood at the door. "You sent for me?" she had asked the Sheriff, avoiding Chris' eyes, and the Sheriff had dragged her to the back for "a little fun in the cells."

Chris had not even tried to resist the temptation and had gone over to look at the poster the Sheriff has just put up. He stared at the poster. There, with the words "Wanted Alive, The Scourge of Section One, Reward $2,000," had been a very badly rendered picture of the Blonde Avenger, Nik, staring back at him.

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

The man in black chewed on the end of the cigar as he stared at the poster in front of him. The poster was so apparently a set-up it almost hurt to look at it. *Sheriff Wolfe and Madame Madeline should really talk to each other.* He listened to the strained squeals from the back room and smiled, *Maybe they shouldn't talk to each other.*

The man in black closed his eyes and considered his extremely limited options. With an inaudible sigh he grabbed the poster of "The Scourge of Section One" and tugged it off the wall. His fate was sealed. At least it was a woman. She shouldn't be too much trouble.

The man in black walked over to the desk and the deputy. "What can you tell me about her?" he asked as he laid the poster on the desk facing the deputy.

He watched as the deputy barely glanced at the poster.

"Well, she is particularly fond of coaches carrying Madeline's money. She seems to have the ability of locating these coaches no matter what route they take. She has not harmed anyone but she will not allow one of her gang to be held or punished."

The man in black interrupted what sounded like the beginning of a pre-rehearsed speech. "Hold on. She has a gang?"

The deputy snorted in amusement, "Well, I guess you could call them that. Several ... dispossessed people have taken up with her and they help out occasionally on her robberies."

"Hmmm." The man in black rolled the cigar around, "Why aren't there any posters up on her gang then?"

Deputy Davenport stuttered and fell silent.

The man in black nodded, his suspicions more than justified.

"Actually," Davenport leaned forward, glanced back over his shoulder and lowered his voice, "there are people, a lot of people, who do not call her the 'Scourge of Section One,' but instead call her the 'Blonde Avenger.'"

***********

Nik read the message one last time before she tossed it into the fire. The flames licked hungrily at it, turning it into ash in a second. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to hold off the headache she felt coming on. Chris' message had been short and to the point, there was a stranger in town gunning for her. A professional bounty hunter. *Just what I need.*

Well, now she knew the route and when Madeline's next stage would be leaving town. Nik turned the problem over in her mind and decided to let this one go through. Madeline would believe the threat of the bounty hunter had scared her off and she could pick up the coach on the way back into town with the metal money instead.

"Hey, Sugar?" Walter's voice carried through the house.

Nik sat up in the rocking chair her mother used to favor. "In here Walter." Her fingers caressed the cat on her lap absently.

Walter and Belinda came into the main room and Nik was struck with a longing so fierce it hurt. She used to dream of having what her parents had. She used to dream that somewhere there was a man for her. A man who would love her like her father loved her mother. A man she could respect and trust. She used to dream about that. Of course, since her little period in Madeline's she had no illusions left about that dream anymore.

Nik pulled herself together and smiled at the couple. "What's going on?"

Belinda smiled at Nik. She had not missed the look that had fleetingly flittered across the young girl's face and it concerned her more than she cared to admit. It seemed to her that this young woman spent way too much time just fighting to survive and not enough time enjoying herself. That is what had prompted her to push Walter into this visit.

"Well," Walter scuffed his feet and looked at Belinda.

Belinda smiled affectionately at him and shook her head in despair at his unusual clumsiness. "We are going to the dance tonight and wondered if you wanted to join us," Belinda rescued her bemused husband.

Nik started her polite refusal when Belinda interrupted her, "Now, I know what you are going to say Young Lady, but it's just not right for you to keep yourself all locked away up here, in this big house, all alone. It can't be healthy for you."

Nik pushed some wayward hair back behind her ear and started to speak when Belinda interrupted her again.

"Come on, just for a while. You can leave when you want to. I'm really worried about you Nik, it's just not natural for a sweet young thing like yourself to be alone."

Nik closed her mouth and looked into the flames. Belinda could not know it, but that was almost the last thing Nik's mother had said to her before she and her father had left on that fateful night. She gazed into the fire unseeing as she remembered her mother promising that when they got back, they were going to go into town and buy her a party dress, so she could start attending some of the dances that were due to start so she could meet some other young men besides Gray. The flames shimmered for a moment.

Nik turned to Belinda and Walter and saw the not-very-well-concealed looks of concern on their faces. She took a deep breath and lifted the cat off of her lap as she stood up. "You're right. Will this be okay?" she gestured at her rawhides and shirt.

Belinda blinked once at her astonishment at the easy victory and then burst out with a trill of laughter, "That will be just fine." She reached her free arm out to the young girl and the three of them exited the house heading for the big bonfire.

***********

The man in black lowered his spy glass and rubbed his chin in consideration. To the casual observer, the group of people below him looked just like any other isolated ranch group having a get together, there was singing and homemade music, laughter, dancing and general silliness in abundance. At least that is what the man in black assumed groups of people did when they wanted to have fun together, it wasn't like he had had a lot of experience with the situation himself. Still, there were subtle differences that marked this group as more than a casual gathering. The alert guards patrolling the parameter, the clock-like precision of the changing of the guards and the actual placement of the bonfire, tables and band all indicated a group that was prepared to be attacked with no notice.

The man in black nodded his head in admiration for the planning. Many of the people who lived out in the wilderness did not think to protect themselves to this degree.

He raised the spy glass again, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. There were prettier women in his view tonight, there had been prettier women hanging all over him last night, but there was just something about this one. He scanned the crowds looking again for that glimpse of pale blonde, almost white hair. He couldn't tell what color her eyes were from this distance but he liked to believe they were blue, a nice calm sky blue. He frowned as his search did not reveal the object he was looking for. It was only the faintest movement in his peripheral vision that alerted him to the fact that someone had moved off by themselves, almost outside the invisible perimeter of the homestead. One quick glimpse confirmed it was his mystery lady and against his better judgement he calculated his possibilities of sneaking past the guards. It looked good, a 95% probability. He would have to maintain some distance though, try to pass himself off as one of the hands and count on her not knowing everyone who worked the land. Stay in the shadows, he grinned briefly, luckily for him that was not too hard. Sometimes he felt he lived his whole life in the shadows.

***

He had been right about the eyes, they were blue, but not a calm sky blue. A raging sea, but not a calm sky. He was not disappointed.

The man in black laid on his frilly feminine bed and dreamt masculine dreams of a nymph with blonde hair and eyes the color of the sky during a summer storm.

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

"I demand an escort for my coach," Madeline's voice echoed throughout the jail, her tone controlled but demanding.

"Madeline, I can't just send out my deputies because you feel like Nik is going to rob this particular coach," Sheriff Wolfe tried to reason with her. He felt pretty relaxed and on top of things since the little session of "Sheriff and the Naughty Girl" he had played with Terry earlier.

Madeline pulled herself up to her full height and quivered with indignation. "If you can't handle it Paul, I'll see if Leon would be interested," she threatened.

Sheriff Wolfe stood up in immediate response to her threat, his good mood gone. "You would go to Leon?"

"If I had to, yes. This shipment is very important to me, Paul."

Sheriff Wolfe's eyes narrowed in consideration. "What is so special about this shipment, Madeline? What are you really sending to Oversight?"

Madeline, to her credit, did not even attempt to look innocent, but instead smiled a slow smile of infinite satisfaction. "I have plans Paul, this coach is the first step of many," she paused to add some dramatic tension to the already tension-filled room, "You can either join me or ..." she trailed off, her meaning clear.

"What are you planning Madeline?"

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

"There she goes."

"Yup," Nik drawled in agreement, the spy glass still sighting Madeline's latest coach's expedition.

"We going to take it?" Birkoff flipped off his hat, wiped his brow and put his hat back on, only mildly interested in the answer.

"Not this time. Might be a hard one this time anyways, I see ... three, no four deputies escorting it." Nik squinted against the glare and watched the coach until it started down an elevated incline. "I'll say this for her, she is certainly in love with her money."

Birkoff nodded, "True enough."

Nik swung the spy glass around the area, watching the seemingly still desert vibrate with life. She watched as a line of sand beetles raced across the waste land, intent on their destination. Nik scanned the horizon, picking out hawks, eagles, vultures, lizards and ...

"Well, Hell."

Birkoff glanced up, his attention caught more by Nik's tone than her words. She had sounded more resigned than surprised.

"What is it?" He leaned forward in his saddle, looking around in an attempt to see what had caused her reaction.

Nik looked through her spy glass at the man in black looking at her through his spy glass. The man in black was how Chris had described him and it fit. Even sitting out in the middle of the desert with no shade around for miles, the man in black, on his black horse, managed to look like a shadow on the sand.

"Seems like I'm being watched," Nik replied, nodding her head out to the barren ground. She handed Birkoff the spy glass and pointed at the infinitesimal speck on the horizon.

Birkoff dutifully searched through the spy glass, catching sight of a big black blob.

"Do you know who it is?"

"Chris said Wolfe, and most likely Madeline, had set a Bounty Hunter on me. I'm guessing that is him."

"A Bounty Hunter?" Birkoff exclaimed in surprise. "Somehow I never thought they would let anyone else into this situation. It's not like they've called for help before."

Nik chewed her lower lip in thought. "That's true. Chris said Wolfe thought he might be from the government. Might be a smart thing to lay low for a while. I doubt he could get onto the property and somehow I don't see a Bounty Hunter just riding up to the front door. Not the front door of a crazed woman, anyway." Nik flashed a smile, "What am I called?"

"The Scourge of Section One," Birkoff supplied dryly.

"Yeah, that's right. The Scourge," Nik tasted the name and found it to her liking.

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

The man in black blinked as he caught sight of her. She was so dazzling there in the sun, her blonde/white hair gleamed like the hottest fire. He could tell the moment she saw him, her body had stiffened and he could read the words "Well, Hell" formed on those luscious lips. He felt a pang of discomfort as his body translated his interest into a physical response. Ignoring his own reaction for the moment, he kept his eye trained on her. She was not alone. There was some young man with her, obviously a companion as he watched her hand over the spy glass and point in his direction. He felt his lips tighten in the unfamiliar sensation of jealousy. *Who was this young man? How well did they know each other? Was he a member of her gang? Did he keep her company in that house? Had he danced with her last night? Held her in his arms? Kissed her? Drawn her down onto a bed and ...*

The man in black shook his head, trying to dislodge the pictures in his head. *What was happening to him? He didn't need this kind of complication. He just needed to do the job. Just do the job.*

Exasperated with himself and, strangely enough, with her, he prompted his mount to retrace his steps and take him out of spy glass range. *Just do the job.*

He needed to plan.

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

It started as a speck, a puff of smoke, barely worth noticing. Nik found her eye drawn to it nevertheless. She adjusted the spy glass and watched as the speck enlarged, growing until it was a recognizable and familiar coach. She straightened in her saddle, surprised that Chris would be running early, when she noticed that the horses were not galloping sedately along, instead they were running scared, full-lather. Nik frowned and searched, hoping to see a driver clinging desperately to the reins. Her frown deepened as she realized that no one was guiding the coach. Collapsing the spy glass against her thigh, she tucked it into her saddle bags even as she prompted Angel into action. Nik bent low over her horse and headed for the runaway coach.

***

It started as a speck, a puff of smoke, barely worth noticing. The man in black swung his spy glass back to where his blonde angel sat, frowning as he noticed her attention was still locked onto the horizon. For three days now they had watched each other watch each other, always at a distance, neither making a move to provoke a confrontation. He knew the object of his obsession was none other than the "Scourge of Section One," had known it since the first sighting. For some inexplicable reason, however, he had been unwilling to force the events and make a move towards bringing her in. He suspected she knew who he was as well. Of course in a town as small as Section One, gossip flowed like water. The man in black focused back onto the speck which was rapidly enlarging. It soon became a recognizable coach, Madeline's. As he watched the erratic movement on the horizon, he realized what held his angel's attention. The horses were not galloping sedately along, instead they were running scared, full-lather. Frowning, he searched the looming catastrophe, looking for a driver. No one was guiding the coach. The man in black closed his spy glass against his thigh, tucked it into his saddle bags, and nudged Diablo into action heading for the runaway coach in one smooth motion.

***********

"Whoa!" Nik called from the right as she grabbed at the flying reins. Angel easily kept pace with the runaway team. Nik dropped Angel's reins and hauled back on the team.

"Whoa!" called out the man in black as he galloped along the left side of the coach. He kicked his feet from the stirrups and with no apparent effort slid from his saddle onto the bare back of the left lead. Diablo ran along side without his master, his long legs eating the ground effortlessly.

Nik glanced over at the interloper, her attention riveted by the utter starkness of his features. His teeth were bared in a devil-may-care grin as he battled nature and won.

The team slowed down, the horses plainly relieved to be back under control, their sides heaving.

Nik let go of her side of the team, watching as the man in black gradually brought the team under complete control.

She dropped back, lagging a ways behind as the team slowed and the coach creaked to a halt. Her first impulse was definitely to run, to take off for the hills and relative safety, but she could not deny the feeling of dreaded anticipation to finally come face to face with the man in black.

The man in black breathed through his mouth. He was within touching distance of his elusive blonde and what does she do? She backs up.

As the coach stopped and rocked back and forth in ominous silence, the back door sprang open and two bodies tumbled into the doorway, hands and feet entangled and dangling limply. A voice groaned out in pain.

Nik immediately forgot her own fascination with the man in black upon hearing Davenport's voice from the tangled heap.

"Chris!" She urged Angel forward and they literally leapt the distance to the coach. Nik slipped off Angel's back and hurried forward. The smell of death hung around the coach and for a brief moment Nik feared she was too late, but then Chris groaned again, a little louder. Steeling herself for the sight she knew would greet her, she moved closer and peered into the coach, spotting Chris' blood-stained face.

"Nik," Davenport gasped out upon seeing her.

"Chris, shhh, don't strain yourself," Nik shook her head, tugging on the body laying across him. Thankfully, she did not recognize the other person in the coach.

"No, Nik, listen ..." Chris coughed, his voice fading.

Nik tugged on the dead weight, pulling with all her might and still only moving the body a small distance. She grasped the arm firmly and braced one of her feet against the coach.

A hand covered in a black glove grasped the arm just above where her hand was clasped and pulled along with her.

Nik gasped in shock, having forgotten the man in black in her anxiety for Chris, dropped the arm and, due to momentum built up by tugging, fell back on her butt.

The man in black chuckled softly and moved more securely in front of the coach door. With a small grunt of effort he lifted the inert body up and out of the coach. He turned away from the coach, carrying the body with him.

Nik stood and slapped the dust off of her behind and hurried forward.

"Nik," Davenport breathed in raggedly.

"I'm here," she assured him softly, brushing away the flies buzzing around the blood staining his shirt and face.

"Listen ... (gasp) ... knew something was up ... didn't trust them ... (cough) ... buried the box ... money, Nik," Davenport grabbed her arm with a surprisingly strong grip, "a lot of money and more ... papers, some kind of papers ... (wheeze) ... Madeline is working against them all," Davenport's voice trailed off for a moment and his grip on her arm loosened. With a sudden wheeze he sat almost straight up, crushing her arm, "The name on the grave is ..."

The man in black put down his burden, sparing a brief pitying glance at the man who died. He closed his eyes as another mark was added to the board, another body to be accounted for. He sighed and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, tilting his hat up. He glanced around, back to where the blonde knelt by the coach, talking to the deputy. A deputy she knew on a first name basis it seemed. He nodded as another piece fell in place. He moved back to the coach just in time to hear the deputy wheeze out, "gold ... lots of it," before he slumped to the floor in silence.

"Chris!" the blonde called out.

The man in black moved around her and reached inside the coach, feeling on the deputy's neck for a pulse.

"Is he?" the blonde whispered, her eyes closed.

He felt the thready quiver under his fingers. "No, but he probably needs some water," he remarked, surveying the parched look on the deputy's face.

"Oh! Yes." Nik scrambled back to her horse, her face lighting up.

Davenport moaned and mumbled something under his breath. The man in black leaned forward, intent on catching his words, " ... at the Ava Maria cemetery ..." the deputy lapsed back into stillness.

***********

"Of course you have to take him to town! Chris needs medical attention." Nik stared at the man in black in disbelief.

The man in black nodded and turned to peer into the wagon. "Looks like it." He did not move toward either the coach or his horse but instead turned back to stare at her, his eyes moving over her with an interest that more than bordered on impertinence.

She glared at him, her temper rising. "Well?"

The man in black stifled a smile and scratched his chin. "Seems to me the deputy was mumbling something about gold, a lot of it."

Nik stiffened. "Is that all you can think about? Chris is dying. You need to take him back to town."

The man in black crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm not going anywhere until I hear about the gold. You want him in town so bad, you take him."

Nik stamped her foot so hard the dry ground beneath her started to crumble in response. "You know damn well why I can't take him into town," she said, in a tone that breathed fire.

"Then I guess you had better tell me about the gold." The man in black tipped his hat back on his head and openly admired the righteous beauty in front of him.

Nik shook her head. "All I know is that Chris got suspicious and buried the chest in a grave."

A groan from the coach stopped any further disclosures. Nik took a short step toward the coach and then stopped. Spinning around, she beseeched the man in black, "Will you please take him into town?"

"All you had to do was ask nicely," he drawled, eliciting an exasperated huff from Nik. "I tell you what, I'll take him into town and see that he gets to the doctor, then I'll come back for you ... and the gold."

"But I don't know where the grave is ... Chris only told me the name on the grave, not which cemetery."

The man in black pulled a cigar out of his shirt pocket, "I know the cemetery." He ignored Nik's surprised look. "We will go after it together, split it down the middle," he suggested, talking around the cigar.

Nik nodded eagerly, willing to agree to about anything to hurry him on his way.

He did not move.

"What?!"

The man in black stuck out his hand. "Partners?" he commanded more than questioned.

Nik hesitated a moment and then shoved her hand into his, shook it once and released it quickly. "Partners."

***********

Madeline's screech of fury could be heard all over town. People gathered to watch the scene of the accident avidly.

"What happened here?" With a snarl, she turned on Sheriff Wolfe. "You promised me an escort! Is this how you keep your word?"

"Now hold on," Sheriff Wolfe blustered. Before he could say anymore, the man in black spoke up.

"I believe I have one of your Deputies in the back, Sheriff. He needs a doctor." The man in black propped his foot against the coach guard, leaned back in the driver's seat, and blatantly ignored the gasp of surprise his announcement caused to ripple through the crowd. Diablo stomped impatiently on the ground behind the coach, where he was tethered.

Several of the townspeople rushed to the back of the coach and opened the door, their murmured comments and movements plainly audible. "It's Deputy Davenport." "Someone go get Doc." "Wait, someone go get a gate and we'll carry him over." "Someone go tell Ms. Lucy." "Here's a gate." "On three, one ... two ... three." "Who's going to tell Ms. Lucy?" "Damn, he's heavy."

"You!" Madeline pointed a quivering finger at the man in black.

"Ma'am?"

"Get down here and tell me what happened!" she hissed, her tone indicating that full and immediate compliance was expected.

The man in black did not reply but instead pulled his hat lower and without looking at her, snapped the reins. The team of horses jumped forward and the remaining crowd scattered as the coach lurched into motion.

Madeline shrilled a scream and slammed back into Sheriff Wolfe in her haste to move clear of the coach. The sudden unexpected force of Madeline smashing into him caused Sheriff Wolfe to take an awkward and ill-fated uneven step backward and the two of them went tumbling into the dust.

"Oh! Who does he think he is?" Madeline seethed as she crawled on her hands and knees to get off of the sheriff, due to the structure of her dress and under garments.

Sheriff Wolfe admired the rear view afforded him before standing and offering her a hand up. "I gather he's not completely under your spell yet?" he asked politely.

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

Nik shook her hand again, but it still tingled where he touched her. She frowned as Angel turned into the yard, catching herself rubbing the effected hand across her lips. *What is wrong with me? Just because he is strong, rugged, looks like he was poured into his clothes, has an intriguing accent and the most mesmerizing green eyes ...*

Nik huffed and climbed off of Angel. Greg Hillinger raced over to her. "I'll take her, Ma'am." His worshiping tone and wistful glance were completely lost on Nik as she smiled unseeingly, and politely nodded her acceptance of his help.

Nik headed for the Foreman's Cabin and Walter.

***

The man in black unhitched Diablo from the now parked coach and started back to his room to pack. He had fulfilled his part of the bargain and he was going to collect on what was coming to him. *What is happening to me? I am blowing off my original mission, passing up on a chance to bring in a known criminal, and tricking her into a partnership. I've never had to trick a woman into anything before.*

The man in black brooded as he remembered their meeting. There he was, distracted by blonde hair, a pert nose, delectable lips, and a strong chin. He had been enthralled by her beautiful storm-filled eyes flashing with indignation, enchanted, and she had looked at him like she could not wait to get away from him. Acted like his touch was repugnant. He was not a vain man, aware his features were not those of the "classical" man, but he was not blind either, he knew the way women responded to him, had responded to him since he first started noticing them. Never had he had a woman act as though she were repulsed by him.

***

"You are doing what!" Walter nearly shouted, barely holding his voice and his temper down.

Nik couldn't help but grin at "Uncle" Walter sounding like a mother hen. "I'm going on a scavenger hunt with the bounty hunter sent to track me down," she said, listening to the ridiculousness of the statement. No wonder Walter was screaming.

"You are going on a scavenger hunt with a bounty hunter?" Walter repeated slowly, trying to make sense of what she was telling him.

Nik explained the whole Chris/coach story to Walter as she packed her saddle bags. "... so, I have the name on the grave, but he has the cemetery. He wants the gold and I want the papers. We're partners."

"Partners?" Walter mumbled, still shocked by the turn of events. "You are partners with a bounty hunter?" Walter placed his hand on hers, stilling their movement. "What's his name?"

Nik frowned. "I don't know, really," she shrugged. "I didn't ask."

"You didn't ask? You are getting ready to go out into the wilderness with a dangerous man and you don't even know his name? Have you lost your mind? Let me go with you, or at least Birkoff," Walter pleaded.

Nik shook her head. "You can't. Someone has to stay here and keep the harassment up on Madeline. If she suspects for a minute that I'm after her missing treasure, everyone on this land will pay for it. You know how ruthless she is."

Walter frowned but could not deny the truth of Nik's statement.

Nik looked at the old man fondly. He was not her real uncle, but he had been such good friends with her parents that he had become an honorary uncle. She could still remember him showing up at the ranch, always full of stories and tales and always with a little something for her. She had spent many a night listening, wide-eyed, to his tales, tales her mother had scolded him for telling her young, impressionable daughter. Walter had seen a lot of places, had moved around a lot, had done a lot of different things, but he always came back to them. As she grew older, Nik had begun to realize that Walter moved around more than the average rodeo circuit rider did. She had realized that Walter did some things that he could never talk about, at least to her. She had started to notice the abrupt silences that would occasionally greet her entrance into a room, the hidden innuendos that sometimes slipped out during dinner or casual conversation. She had her suspicions that Walter had worked for the burgeoning government a time or two in his life. Still, he always came home and Nik would never think but the best of him. He had appeared after she had been held captive in Madeline's place for three weeks, with documented proof that he was the proud owner of the Circle K and demanded the release of his "niece."

Walter paced about the room, tapping his forefinger against his chin, thinking. Just as she was pulling the strap through the buckle he turned. "What does this bounty hunter look like?"

Nik's hands stilled. She swallowed. "Look like?" her voice trembled. "Just like any other guy," she tried for a casual tone and failed.

"So ... he looks like me then?"

"Well, no. Not like you."

"Like Birkoff then?"

*Cough* "No, not like Birkoff either."

Walter laughed, "Okay, Sugar, spill it. What does he look like."

Nik sighed and grinned self-consciously. "Well, he's tall, taller than me. He's got reddish hair, green eyes, dresses in black and has a slight accent. I don't really know, I only met him for a few minutes."

"A few minutes, eh? Sounds like a lot of information for a casual meeting," Walter teased. His voice turning sober, "You take care of yourself, you hear. Nothing is worth your life, you get in any trouble, you come right back home."

Impulsively Nik hugged him. "Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself," she entreated. "After all, look who taught me," Nik smiled, trying to work him out of his worry.

Walter hugged her back with convulsive strength. "You know I've always thought of you as my daughter, don't you Nik? I ..." he stopped to swallow, "I could just kick myself for not finding out sooner. I wish I could have ..."

Nik stopped him by placing a hand over his mouth. "It's in the past, Walter. Let it stay there. You got me out, that's all that matters." Nik put on a determined cheerful face and waved to Walter as she walked out the door.

Walter sighed and shook his head, *Not soon enough. Not soon enough.*

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

The man in black packed his few belongings in his saddle bags. He did not have much, finding it easier to just buy things as the need arose.

***

Diablo trotted through the Circle K gate, his steps as precise as if he had been trained for a fancy horse show. The horse preened, knowing the attention he was generating. Women stopped working the garden and men stopped working horses, leather, and wood to watch the man in black as he rode up the lane to the house. Dead silence greeted him.

The man in black advanced on the homestead, his gaze steady and direct, his aim obvious. The cold chill in the air seemed to bounce off of him without effect.

Diablo stopped in front of the homestead and waited. The man in black dismounted, and with a negligent movement, flicked Diablo's reins loosely around the hitching post.

Diablo immediately began to eye Angel who was standing nearby, her saddlebags stuffed full. Angel fluttered her long lashes at Diablo coyly.

The man in black stepped onto the porch and raised his hand to knock on the door, but before he could rap the wood, the door swung open and a old man wearing a bandana and a forbidding expression glared out at him.

"Yes?" Walter asked in an extremely hostile tone, well aware of who the stranger was.

"I've come to take Nik," the man in black stated.

"Well, you can't have her!" Walter slammed the door closed.

***********

MEANWHILE

Deputy Bauer climbed aboard his brown gelding and waved jauntily back at Idella.

Idella pressed the soft, wet, cool cloth to her black eye and spat at his retreating figure. "PIG!!"

Perry's laughter carried on the wind. He was feeling pretty good due to his little 'stopover' and decided to have one more drink at "The Centre" in Oversight before he headed back to Section One.

As he sipped his whiskey, he contemplated the story he would give Sheriff Wolfe for not accompanying Madeline's coach back to town. It did not take long for the whispers of the robbery and mystery to reach his ears.

Deputy Bauer frowned at the thought of the crate of gold coins he had helped load into Madeline's latest coach. Then he smiled. He had paid scant attention to the packet of papers casually tossed on top of the coins, but, upon reflection, he knew if Madeline wanted it, someone else would pay quite a bit for it. Leon, for example.

He knew the route Deputy Davenport had planned on taking. Perhaps he could salvage something for his trouble. After all, whoever robbed the coach may not have been interested in the papers at all.

Deputy Bauer nodded to himself as he slugged back the rest of his whiskey and slapped a nearby whore on the butt. He had a plan.

***

Doc had to forcibly evict Madeline from his operating room when it became apparent she intended to interrogate Chris Davenport no matter what.

"Madam, he is unconscious."

"Can't you wake him up?"

"He is not asleep. He is UNCONSCIOUS."

Madeline sulked.

***

Sheriff Wolfe looked at the empty courtyard, devoid of any volunteers, looker-ons, even the local town drunk. No one had answered his call for help to search out the path of Madeline's coach, to discover what happened and, perhaps, recover her booty. No one he could use, that is.

Leon, surrounded by three of his men, leaned casually against a parked buckboard. "I volunteer, Sheriff," Leon drawled, raising his hand like a school boy.

Sheriff Wolfe frowned. Madeline was not going to like this.

***

Nik trotted along in silence. It appeared the man in black was comfortable with silence for he showed no desire to break the monotony with conversation.

Nik tightened her mouth. She would not apologize again for Walter's abrupt action. If the man in black was so sensitive that he was mortally wounded by Walter's reaction, then he would just have to suffer. She tilted her head as she considered this and glanced over at her companion. Somehow he did not strike her as someone so easily offended nor as someone who would sulk and brood about a slight.

"Well, what's the plan?"

"You mean you don't have one?"

Nik glared at him, noting that his manner seemed more relaxed since she started talking to him. Maybe he was just shy?

The man in black chuckled, "I have a map of the territory and we are heading to the cemetery. After we get there, you are in charge."

Nik snorted in an unladylike fashion. “You have a map? I have a good mind to report you to the National Brotherhood of Men for breaking one of the charters.”

The man in black grinned, surprising Nik who was momentarily stunned by the humanizing transformation the simple gesture made to his face. “I think I am secure enough to run the risks of being found with a map.”

Nik quickly looked away, afraid her expression would show too much. “Most of the men I know would never be caught admitting there was something they didn’t know.”

The man in black’s grin faded and his gaze became intense. “I am not like most of the men you know,” he whispered softly, his tone one of absolute commitment.

Nik felt a shiver run down her spine, not of apprehension but instead of preordained certainty and a touch of wistful hopefulness. *Stop it! Just do the job.*

Nik chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "You are implying that you are 'in charge' of this partnership until the cemetery?" she asked, her tone frosty.

The man in black nodded and gave a grunt which she interpreted to mean “Yes.”

“Why should you be the ranking partner in this venture?”

“I know where we are heading.”

“I know the territory.”

“I can handle any difficulties that come up.”

“HA!” Nik snorted and pulled Angel to a halt. “I can take care of myself.”

The man in black continued forward, putting her in the awkward position of having to catch up to him or trail behind. Nik almost gave in to the temptation to just turn Angel around and go back to the Circle K, however, the tantalizing mystery of Madeline’s papers called to her. It was worth anything to get the upper hand on that woman. *ANYTHING.*

Nik kneed Angel’s ribs and, like the well trained horse she was, Angel leapt forward and the two of them easily ate the ground until they were once again side-by-side with the man in black and his midnight steed.

The silence stretched until almost the breaking point before Diablo greeted Angel back with a soft whiny. Angel pranced a little before returning the greeting.

Nik smiled to herself at Angel’s antics and risked a glance at her companion. The earlier relaxed air about him was gone; his lips were tight and his body stiff. Nik sighed softly and thought what a waste it was to argue about who was in charge when they were after different things. "What is your name?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

The man in black tilted his hat down slightly before he turned to peer at her behind the safety of his hat brim. His face was shadowed except for the green gems glittering in amusement. Amusement about her question or the fact that she could not allow the silence to continue, she did not know, nor could she guess.

"You can call me Michael."

"Like the archangel?"

"The name may be but ..." he trailed off, his implication clear.

Nik flushed at the sudden vision of this stranger clothed in white robes with wings and a halo. Somehow that did not quite suit him.