Hi=> This is my attempt at a sequel (don't do them very well =<) If you care to read this story and understand it, you, unfortunately, must read the first story "Unknown" which is archived at: Unknown

I hope you enjoy =>

Prologue:

She's my wife, she's my wife, she's my wife. The words beat up from the railroad tracks and haunted Michael no matter what car he was in. Over and over the train taunted him with this refrain. Michael scowled at the intrusion. His look was so intimidating that people moved back into their cars and slammed their doors shut instead of trying to pass him in the aisle. Many eyes were glued to their respective windows watching the man in black stalk down the train pathway like a panther deprived of a tasty delight. No one stirred, having no wish to become a snack.

***

Nikita firmed her lips and sat straighter in the saddle. Despite the fact that Michael took Madeline's papers, Nikita had written down every name, every payoff and every bit of information she could remember. So now she had a partial list and she also had a chest full of money. She had to look at the bright side. Michael had helped her break down some barriers and bury some old fears. At last, she was ready to move on. She refused to allow herself to feel betrayed by him. He had never promised anything. Nikita resolved to look to the future and just "get over it."

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

Nikita rode in the gates of the Circle K leading Bauer's horse loaded down with gold and silver. People stopped what they were doing and called out to her, their voices raised in welcome. Nikita smiled until her face ached and headed for the stables. The only thought on her mind was that of getting to her room where she could finally stop smiling.

At the stables there were plenty of hands to help take care of Angel, but at Nikita's one word no one touched the brown gelding that shied at the sound of so many people. Nikita had found the gelding tagging behind Angel at a respectful distance. He had been wary but quietly desperate for affection. Nikita had kept her voice low and her posture non-threatening as she had advanced on the horse, easily seeing the scars and wounds from Bauer's abuse sprinkled across the flat, dull coat of the gelding. His snuffle of relief when her raised hand had softly stroked across his nose instead of hitting him had broken her heart and she had adopted him on the spot. Even Angel, not the most patient of horses, had seemed to find a spot in her heart for the gelding and now stood protectively by his side in the hustle and bustle of the stable.

Nikita spoke quietly with Quinn, one of the stable hands known for her almost uncanny communication with animals, explaining in brief comments the gelding's situation. Quinn frowned severely as she listened to the tale, but her brown eyes were already gleaming with determination to change the gelding's plight.

Nikita smiled at the look in Quinn's eyes and knew she could safely leave him in this woman's soft hands. Though Quinn was not known for her friendliness with others, all animals were assured of only the best and kindest treatment from her.

As Nikita turned to break down Angel's gear, Quinn called out to her. "Nik? What do I call him?"

Nikita smiled, a genuine smile this time. "His name is Free, because that is what he is, Free." *Just like I am.*

***

"Nik, you're back!" Belinda swept Nikita into a hug, a huge smile on her face. She stepped back and held both of Nikita's hands in hers. "Let me look at you."

For a brief second Belinda hesitated and then she semi-turned and called out, "Walter, Nik's home."

Just as the sound of Walter's whoops were coming closer, Belinda clasped Nikita's hand in hers firmly and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "If you value your life, you will keep that ring hidden. Should I offer my congratulations," Belinda paused and significantly looked at the empty spot next to Nikita, "or my condolences?"

***

"Very good, Michael," George murmured as he stroked his chin. "Very good, indeed. Of course, it does not relieve you of your final mission, but it will certainly earn you a nice bonus to use during your 'retirement.' Did you run into Walter?"

Michael's lips tightened but he neither showed nor truly felt any surprise from George's pronouncement.

"I had contact with Walter but nothing further," Michael stated quietly.

George grunted.

"How's Wolfe?" George questioned, his tone casual, his body language tight with tension.

"He is waging a war," Michael reported.

George sighed and rubbed his forehead. "He must be stopped, Michael." George steepled his fingers in front of him and tapped his fingertips together in a nervous gesture.

Michael clasped his hands in front of him, his face blank.

"Go back and take him out, Michael. That will end your term of service. You don't need to come back or even report anything to me other than your mission was accomplished," George compromised, his tone weary with resignation and despair.

Michael nodded and turned to leave.

"By the way," George stalled him at the door. "I noticed you are wearing a wedding ring. Should I offer my congratulations or condolences?"

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

"Well, you got your wish, Madeline. The town is firmly divided and nothing is happening on either side." Sheriff Wolfe sighed and rubbed his closed eyes.

Madeline's skirts swished lightly as she walked over to the sheriff. "It's not what I wanted, it is what had to happen. Besides, we have a bigger problem now."

"We do?"

"Yes, there will be an army convey coming through our town in a few weeks. If they discover all of the fighting that has been going on, we'll never get rid of them."

Sheriff Wolfe sighed. "What do you propose we do about that?"

Madeline smiled a small well-satisfied smirk, a bare twist of the lips smile that never reached her eyes. "Why, we make peace, of course."

***

Helmut looked at the telegram again. He could not believe it. It could not say what it said. But, no matter how much he tried to deny it, no matter how often he closed his eyes, no matter how often he shook the paper, the words remained the same: "Due to your excellent handling of the recent reported water war in your area, your presence is being requested as head officer ..."

Helmut looked at his land. He had only been back for one week but he had started to work on his fence and the difference was visible. Only ONE week.

*Am I never to be free of this cursed service?*

***

*Am I never to be free of this cursed service?* Michael clicked in the back of his throat and Diablo increased his pace to a trot.

Michael pondered his next action. Although he had every intention of returning to the Circle K and claiming Nikita as his own, he certainly did not want to be under orders to do so.

"You'll see Angel again, eh Boy. Think she'll welcome you with open arms?" Michael asked Diablo rhetorically.

The stallion snorted and pranced a little before he increased his speed even more at the thought of seeing Angel again.

*Of course she'll welcome you with open arms. You didn't betray her trust, did you?*

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

Madeline hurried to the train station, her skirts rustling as she bustled along. She was running late due to a little domestic disturbance in her kitchens. Christopher ruled that area with an iron hand and was known, every now and then, to bring that hand down on one of the girls. This time it had been Terri. The same Terri who had never adjusted to working in the kitchen in the first place. She had not liked getting up before dawn and kneading bread dough until her shoulders ached. She had not liked slaving in front of the blazing fireplaces, her skin cooking along with the food. She had not liked this ... not liked that. Madeline sighed. She never heard the end of it. Terri had complained every chance she had gotten and had bothered Madeline daily with pleadings to be returned upstairs. It's no wonder Christopher finally had hit her. This morning had been the final straw and Madeline had thrown Terri off of her property. *Imagine! Bringing me cold tea! The nerve of that girl!*

The train whistled to a stop, smoke billowing out of the stack and brakes shrieking to a halt. Madeline stepped out of the way of the escaping steam and oil and patted her hair and hat down. Her restless eyes scanned the few men stepping off of the train and with a little delighted cry, she spotted her savior. With a smile Madeline moved forward, her hand already outstretched to be kissed.

The dapper gentleman looked at Madeline with mockery in his eyes as he performed the required gentlemanly maneuvers. He doffed his fedora and lightly brushed his lips against the back of her gloved hand as he smiled at Madeline. His smile was so fast, wide and bright that it seemed his teeth glistened in the sun. "Madeline, how delightful to see you," he lied politely.

Madeline nodded her head regally. "Suba," she acknowledged.

***

Leon opened his back door and smiled in delight at the sight in front of him. "Can I help you?" he questioned gently.

Terri twisted a finger in her ragged skirt and nervously glanced around. "I believe I can help you," she whispered desperately.

Leon stepped aside and waved her inside.

***

Sheriff Wolfe curled his lip in disgust as Madeline handed Suba over to one of her 'girls' for some special treatment. He waited until Madeline was within earshot before he whispered, "That pretty boy? How is he going to solve our problems?"

Madeline smiled at the Sheriff's disgruntled tone. "Suba is ruthless, without morals, and completely efficient. He should do very well." She lowered her lashes and moved closer to the Sheriff. "Besides, I know Suba's weakness and the thought of controlling him with it pleases me on many levels," she whispered almost flirtatiously.

Sheriff Wolfe glanced at her in surprise, for Madeline was rarely playful. "What is his weakness?" he asked after a few minutes of coy silence from Madeline.

Madeline primped her hair. "Suba, it seems, has a fatal flaw. He likes blondes." Madeline paused and sent Sheriff Wolfe a significant glance. "Tall blondes."

The Sheriff looked stunned for a moment, but quickly broke into a wide grin. "Oh, you are bad."

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

Although it was awkward to do all of her greetings with one hand, Nikita soon learned that any attempt on her part to remove her hand from Belinda's grasp was met with an almost bone-breaking squeeze that discouraged the thought.

Walter seemed more relieved than pleased to see her and Birkoff almost comically wiped the sweat off of his brow. However, neither of them cared to elucidate on the reasons for their relief, much to Nikita's puzzlement.

She gave them the abbreviated version of her adventures, trying to gloss over her being shot to get to the best part, Bauer's death.

"Hold it! Back up a moment. You were shot?!?"

Nikita sighed, "Yes, but it ..."

Walter cut her off. "I thought that big bad bounty hunter was supposed to protect you. I thought he was supposed to take care of you, make sure nothing happened to you. Where was he? What was he doing when you were shot? Romancing some female, most likely," Walter snorted.

"No, he was not!" Nikita jumped to her feet angrily. "He was fighting the men at the oasis as I was saying, when you interrupted me. It was a mistake that I was shot, just one of those things that happens. Something no one can control."

"Well," Walter drawled. "That was certainly a quick leap to his defense." Walter squinted at her, a look of extreme displeasure crossing his face. "Don't tell me that he has worked his magic on you as well?"

"Walter," Belinda admonished.

"No," Nikita forestalled. "What magic? What do you know of Michael, Walter?"

***

Leon looked at the politely worded message in front of him. Madeline, with her distinctive grace and subtlety, was asking for a cease fire in hostilities until the army convey had passed through. He smiled at her assured assumption that he would already know of the convey and was well pleased with her lack of coyness in discussing their mutual "problem." Indeed, he had no more desire in the army taking an interest in Section One than she did. His plans ran similar to Sheriff Wolfe's in the desire to acquire as much land as possible. What Wolfe did not own, Leon did, except for that one spread, the Circle K. That little girl was proving to be a formidable opponent indeed. Of course, her "uncle" Walter was helping her a great deal.

The door opened and Leon smiled his practiced smile at the young woman as she entered the room. Terri balanced a tray on her hip and closed the door with learned grace and skill. She served him his coffee as if he were in the finest drawing room in all the land. Leon was well pleased with his new addition and the information she brought with her regarding Madeline's little operation was a delightful bonus.

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

Suba smiled and laid down four Aces to the collected groans of the other card players. He was quickly living up to his reputation for being lucky at anything he attempted. Already the women in town were sprucing themselves up at the sound of his name, why they all thought his leather covered braid to be quite exotic. Even Madeline herself seemed to have fallen under his spell. He couldn't lose at cards or at the roulette wheel, and it seemed that the Sheriff found him an intriguing fellow as well. He was always spotless, never a speck of dirt on his fancy clothes, he never seemed to sweat, and he was always willing to show off his repertoire of trick shooting. The more cynical of the crowd were waiting for him to run for office, so he could win by a landside.

***

Helmut fastened his last button and with a quick, unconscious brush down, placed his hat on his head. *Back in the saddle again.*

Outside waiting patiently was his palomino, Honor, once again decked out in his finery. The horse shifted impatiently, none too pleased to be turned out in all of the shine and weight. He had just started gathering a flock of fillies around him and now what? *Back under the saddle again.* Honor snorted and shook his mane.

***

"Know about Michael? How could I know anything about Michael?" Walter blustered, caught unaware by Nikita's question. "I have eyes in my head, don't I? Anyone could see the man was attractive and used to having women fall all over themselves to do whatever he wanted." Walter peered at her. "Is that what happened? Did you fall for him Nik? Did he snap his fingers and you rushed right over, like Shep here," Walter pointed at the family's faithful dog who was lounging under the kitchen table, "anxious to please and not asking too many questions?" Walter asked as he turned the tables on Nikita.

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

"Walter! What's gotten into you?" Belinda scolded the unrepentant Walter.

Walter scowled. "He seduced her. I know he did. You saw her reaction to my question. Damn him! He better hope I never see him or so help me ..."

Belinda blushed at the realization that Walter was no doubt correct concerning Michael and Nik's relationship, but she still felt there was more than a simple bout of sex for a night or two. *At least on Nik's part,* she amended.

"No matter what happened or didn't happen, it is none of our business until Nik decides to tell us. We both know she was no innocent virgin when she left here." Belinda frowned as a thought occurred to her. "There certainly didn't seem to be anything to indicate that he forced himself on her ..."

"If he raped her, I'll hunt him to the ends of the earth!" Walter interrupted Belinda with a bellow.

"Calm down, Walter. He didn't rape me." Nikita's quiet voice cut through the tension-filled room.

***

Nikita slathered the soap across her hands one more time and with a tiny little trill of sound, the ring slid off of her finger and into the bowl. For a brief second it felt as though her heart stopped with the sound, but then reality intruded and Nikita firmed her trembling lips with a resolute sigh. *It is better this way. Michael got what he wanted and I ... I got what I wanted as well ... well, almost,* she admitted to herself.

She rinsed her hands and carefully cleaned and dried the golden band. She tilted the ring back and forth, taking the opportunity to examine it in detail. It appeared to be a plain band but upon closer examination there was a fine border of delicately carved roses, an example of fine quality workmanship, so precise were the carvings. Nikita sighed as she thought of the faceless Simone and that Michael had had this ring made to grace Simone's finger. *He must have loved her very much. It's no wonder he could not bring himself to love me.*

***

"So, Madeline. As much as I am enjoying my time here, when are you going to tell me why I am here?" Suba asked as he sipped his shot of whiskey with an assumed refined air that fooled most people and irritated the rest.

Madeline stifled her irritation at Suba's mannerisms and his attitude and smiled at him instead. "I need you to remove a thorn in my side."

"A thorn? I am surprised any flower would dare prick you."

"Oh this is a flower all right, though I would hesitate to call her a rose."

"Her? One of your girls getting out of hand? I'm surprised you would need me for that. I would have thought the idea of spending time as a guest of your white room would have convinced even the most reluctant to cooperate."

Madeline allowed the tiniest of frowns to play about her lips. "Not one of my girls, not anymore, and the white room only made her more resistant. An unusual case and one I am sure you will enjoy taking on."

"What exactly is it you want from me and, more importantly, what am I going to get out of it?"

"I want you to capture a little bitch who has been making my life a misery and your reward is that you get to keep her."

Suba laughed, much to Madeline's irritation. "That doesn't sound like much of a payoff. I think I pass."

"Oh, but you will like her. She's feisty."

"Pass."

"She's got an unbroken spirit."

"Pass."

"She's smart."

"Pass."

"She's got a great personality."

"Pass."

"She's beautiful."

Pause. "Pass."

"She's tall."

"Pass ... how tall?"

"She's blonde."

"How tall, how blonde and how beautiful?"

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

Belinda listened quietly as Nikita told her the unmentioned sections of her travels with Michael. At first Nikita had been hesitant and embarrassed, stumbling over words and pausing for long stretches of awkward silences, but Belinda had allowed her to talk and had passed no judgements on her for her actions and Nikita had begun to speak with more confidence, as though the reciting of the moments made them more real and easier for her to accept for her actions and deeds.

"... and so that is when Michael left. I heard him whistle for Diablo and saw him put his shirt back on before I turned away, unable to see anymore and, frankly, unable to bear the sight of him walking away from me." Nikita sighed and grew silent.

Belinda looked at the young girl who had been such a pillar of strength and support for all these people, the young girl who had opened her land and her home to strays and castoffs without a condemning or derogatory word, only gentle acceptance, the young girl who had endured still untalked about horrors under Madeline's tutelage. Belinda tried to blink back the tears as her heart swelled. She had listened to Nik stumble through her days and nights with Michael, and had heard the wonder, fear and surprised joy in her tale.

Nik looked up and saw the tears on Belinda's face and a strange look in her eyes.

"Belinda! What's wrong? I haven't shocked or disappointed you, have I?" Nikita moved closer to Belinda and placed an arm around the older woman's shoulders, relieved that Belinda had not jerked away from her touch.

"Oh no," Belinda stammered out, breathlessly, talking through her tears. "I was just thinking how proud your parents would be of the fine young woman you've turned into. You've been through so much but you have not let it destroy your belief in your fellow man or your own worth."

Nikita stared, totally stunned with this reaction to her tale. She could have imagined being condemned for her actions, she could imagine being tolerated for her actions, she could even try to imagine being accepted for her actions, but to be ... commended for her actions?!?

"Do you really think so?" Nikita asked as Belinda's words sank through the haze. She missed her parents terribly and had felt, in the back of her mind, that perhaps they would not have approved of the person she had become. Now Belinda was forcing her to confront that fear, but in a positive way.

"Yes. I really believe that." Belinda clasped Nikita's free hand between hers. "I think they would be very proud of you, indeed."

Nikita looked down into Belinda's eyes and saw the absolute truth shimmering in pools of unshed tears and smiled, misty-eyed herself.

"Thank you."

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

Michael and Diablo stopped at the outer edge of Section One, pausing at a well. Michael lifted the bucket and sipped at the tepid water, grateful for anything to lubricate his parched throat after his long ride. Neither he nor Diablo had lingered during their return to Section One, but still too much time had passed since he had last seen Nikita, last heard her laugh, smelled her unique scent, and touched her. Hell, he even missed arguing with her.

Michael held the ladle of water up for Diablo and scanned the town of Section One. The buildings looked different, some had been destroyed and some had been rebuilt creating the sense of a completely different town, but Michael could still see the opposing signs swinging in the breeze and knew that fundamentally nothing had changed. Red Cell and Sheriff Wolfe still fought for domination and Madeline still pulled the Sheriff's strings. Michael watched as very few people moved throughout the main street. Despite the rebuilding and 'sprucing up' that had taken place, a mood of desertion hung over the area like a cloud of gloom.

The air was still except for a persistent rhythmic banging of a hammer on wood and curiosity and desire for information drove Michael in that direction so see who would bother working so industriously in this blighted burg.

***

Seated on top of a wagon, the little bald man pounded away, putting another nail through the wood, whistling to himself, his head shining in the sun. He stopped his work, sensing the presence of another person and looked up. A broad grin split his face, "Hallo, there. Don't suppose you've come to help?"

Michael looked at the little man and then took in the grisly stack of coffins surrounding him, including the partially built coffin nestled lovingly on the man's lap.

Michael shook his head in reply and the little man sighed dramatically. "I supposed not, still one can hope. Instead, I'm sure you are here to bring me business." The coffin builder touched a finger to his cheek just below his right eye. "I've got the eye, can tell you fellows a mile off." He paused and glanced at Michael. "Be a little hard to put those shoulders in a regular box, have to build a special one just for you, little longer than the others as well. Oh well," he shrugged philosophically, "guess I can consider it a professional challenge."

Michael smiled at the man's antics and suppositions. "No rush on that special order," he advised the coffin builder.

The coffin builder grinned, "Ay, that's probably true enough if the look of you is right enough."

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

Suba sat on his horse, the spyglass Madeline gave him hanging absently from his hand. He contemplated the delicious morsel he had just finished watching. Madeline had been right. She was tall, blonde and beautiful. Suba smiled, showing all his teeth like a hungry shark. *Very beautiful and very tall. Need a stepladder for that one, but it would be worth the climb.* If Madeline's other information proved to be true, Suba knew that he would enjoy dallying with Madeline's little pain. He loved a challenge.

A faint sound to his right caused him to lift the spyglass and peer into the horizon. A small cloud of dust, gradually growing larger, caught his attention. Suba did not stop his exclamation of disgust as it become apparent the cloud was being raised by an army troop. His lips curled in distaste.

Folding the spyglass, Suba turned his horse away from the view he had been admiring and set off at a trot.

***

Nikita watched the impeccably dressed man ride off. She then turned her spyglass in the direction of the newcomers, feeling an unbidden momentary pulse of hope at the fleeting thought that it was Michael returning, but immediately dismissed the thought since the cloud of dust was much too large for a single rider. Instead she scanned the riders, noting the military insignia occasionally catching the sun's blaze.

Folding the spyglass, Nikita turned Angel away from the horizon and with a quiet word trotted back to the homestead. *Walter might be interested in this little development.*

***

Helmut wiped his forehead and replaced his hat firmly back on top of his head. His thoughts wandered to the shade trees he had been trying to cultivate on his land. *My land.* Helmut sighed.

The young soldier who had been riding point cantered up beside Helmut. "Captain."

"What did you find, Stanley?"

"There is a ranch up ahead, the Circle K. I asked at the gate and they said they would be able to provide us with water and a space to camp for the night."

Helmut nodded. "Good job, Stanley."

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

Suba looked around the white room, his eyes glittering with amusement.

Madeline hid her frown at his expression. She was quite used to fearful lust and the occasional terrified-beyond-the-point-of-rational-thought looks that people in this room wore, and not the amused speculative interest that shone in Suba's dark brown eyes.

Suba casually sat in the "chair," obviously unaffected by the suspicious stains that colored not only the chair itself but also dotted the floor surrounding it.

"Now, I want to make sure I have this right. You just want me to take your little nemesis off of your hands, correct?" Suba casually questioned as he glanced at his neatly-trimmed fingernails.

"That is correct."

"So, if I were to take her away or even figure out a way to confine her to her land, your requirements would be met?"

Madeline allowed her forehead to wrinkle in a frown for the tiniest of seconds before she answered. "I suppose that would do, but frankly, we want her land as well, so if you insisted on keeping her, you would have to take her somewhere else to really make me happy."

Suba snickered. "Oh I live to make you happy my dear Madeline." He flashed a big grin. "Very well, I will remove her from your side, but ... I will do it my own way."

Madeline folded her hands in front of her and nodded her head. "Of course. . ." She paused and let Suba stand up before she spoke again. "and what is your way?"

Suba smiled and approached Madeline, the differences in their heights not deterring him at all. He smiled all charm and seduction, glanced at her from beneath his luxuriously thick eyelashes and lowered his voice an octave or two, "Why I am going to make her fall in love with me, of course."

***

Suba whistled softly as he stepped out into the sunlight. He was feeling pretty good. He had thought about Madeline's little 'problem' on his ride back to town and two things, well - really three things, had become clear. One, Nik had been raiding Madeline's coaches for quite a while and so far had not been caught, therefore, she must have quite a little horde of Madeline's money; two, Madeline and the Sheriff wanted Nik's property in a pretty bad way and, therefore, they would be willing to pay quite a bit for it, once he gained control of Nik's land through marriage and three, Nik was quite a little dish and, therefore, he would enjoy her until he didn't anymore.

*Now,* Suba grinned, *off to play the hero and win my fair maiden's heart.*

Suba glanced up as a dusty horse and rider slowly walked into town. He frowned at the lather slowly drying on the horse's flanks and the rider's grimy appearance. Grinning at the thought of some sport, Suba unholstered his gun. "Hey, Amigo," he called out, garnering the attention of not only the rider but also that group of men who always seems to be hanging around with nothing to do. Several of the men muttered to each other and poked each other with their elbows or slapped their hands in joyful anticipation of Suba's next move. "If you want to work in this town, you need to clean up, maybe I can help you find a bath, eh?" and with that last statement he shot several shots at the horse's hooves. Suba's initial grin faded away when neither the horse nor the man even flinched at the shots.

The stranger pulled off his hat, his auburn hair glistening in the sun, and slapped the dust off, before he fastened glistening green eyes on Suba. "You talking to me?"

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

"You talking to me?" Walter asked Nikita, casting her a hopeful glance.

Nikita sighed and smiled, her exasperation fading as quickly as it had bloomed. "Of course I'm talking to you, Walter." She reached over and gave him a quick hug. "I can never stay mad at you," she told him ruefully. "You are the best man I have ever met."

Walter grinned but wisely said nothing.

Nikita shook her head slightly, putting her minor despondency aside. "Belinda has offered the military safe lodgings for the night," Nikita informed him.

Walter nodded, his attention back to his tinkering. "Yep. It's always a good idea to treat the military politely," he paused, "no matter what you think of them."

Nikita hid a quick grin and nodded her head in agreement. "That's what I thought as well. I thought it would be a nice gesture if I took them some of our apples. I'm sure some fresh fruit would be welcomed."

"True enough," Walter answered absently.

Nikita left an absorbed Walter playing with his latest invention, relieved to be on good terms with him again.

***

Birkoff stood in the doorway of the cellar and frowned as he watched Nikita load apples into a sack. "Do you have to give them so many?" he complained.

Nikita laughed, "Birkoff, we have plenty. Just think how parched these men are for something crisp and sweet."

Birkoff thought for a moment, his sense of fair play warring with his stomach, and finally gave a short curt nod of agreement. "I just hope they appreciate it," he muttered, turning away from the sight.

***

Captain Volker scanned his encampment. He had accepted the hospitality of a very charming woman and proceeded to give his men a stern lecture about behaving themselves. The men, too tired from the trip and longing for some rest, had wearily nodded and had set up camp a good distance away from the homestead to keep themselves from being tempted.

Helmut had posted guards in split shifts and now sat in his tent, his shirt unbuttoned, his hat off and, he was seriously considering removing his boots when the call came through the network, "Visitor, we have a visitor."

Helmut sighed and stood up, resigned to entertaining the curious homesteader or two. He could always pull the "I've been on the road a long while," ploy when it became too tedious. He resentfully buttoned his shirt, pulling it into some semblance of decency and raked a hand through his hair, preparing to step out of his tent, when the flaps parted and his aide, Stanley, escorted an angel into his presence.

"Captain!" Nikita exclaimed in surprise, almost dropping her bag.

"Ma'am," Helmut stood a little straighter, his eyes automatically searching behind her for her black shadow. He felt unreasonably pleased when the man in black did not appear. "You are alone?"

"Oh Michael and I parted company not too long after we left you," Nikita stated in a hard-strived-for casual tone.

Suddenly Helmut's night looked much better. "What a shame." He strove to keep the grin off of his face and out of his voice, "Come in, come in."

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

Miss Lucy looked around the room. Nik's return had prompted the clearing and renovation of one of the side buildings into a school room and Miss Lucy was elated. Just because chaos reigned all around did not mean that the children should quit their learning. Miss Lucy smiled in amusement as she remembered the muffled groans and complaints that had greeted her joyous announcement this morning that school would resume tomorrow after morning chores. She was so excited to be back to teaching that she had been unable to sleep and was instead doing a last minute check of the facilities. Miss Lucy sighed a soft sigh of satisfaction. *All was as it should be.*

***

Birkoff sat at the table, his handwritten notes circling him in formalized stacks. He had calculated his past notes on Madeline's shipments, the routes they had taken, and formulated a supposition of when her next shipment would be as well as the route it was most likely to take. Now that Davenport was a permanent member of the ranch family, they had to rely on other sources of information and Birkoff was anxious to double-check his work before he presented this first supposition to Walter.

Birkoff studied his paper, trying to look at it as he knew Walter would. He examined and confirmed and examined again.

With a soft sigh of satisfaction Birkoff carefully collected his stacks and put them away carefully, leaving his supposition out for presentation to Walter tomorrow.

***

Walter absently wiped his hands on his thighs and looked at his latest toy. With a hesitant finger he reached up to push the base and gave a little laugh as the carousel began to turn around while accompanied by a tinny tune. He had discovered that sometimes it did his heart good to build something that had nothing to do with destruction. Belinda had a whole shelf of toys that Walter had presented to her over the years, toys that symbolized his need for creation. He watched happily as the horses moved up and down in musical rhythm and he sighed softly in satisfaction.

***

Madeline and the Sheriff frowned at each other, neither directly accusing the other, but the air hung heavy between them. At last, the Sheriff broke. "I thought I told you I would take care of it? I had a perfect little set-up going and you couldn't resist, could you? You had to get involved, didn't you? Well, see what it has gotten us then?" He paused for maximum effect and to light a cigar. "Nothing, that's what it's gotten us. You should have stayed out of it."

Madeline's nose twitched in distaste as the smell of his cigar wafted over to her. "I believe you are mistaken," she stated in a calm, sedate voice.

"Mistaken?" Sheriff Wolfe questioned incredulously.

"Yes." Madeline nodded shortly. "Mistaken. I told you that I would take of it. You were the one that interfered with my plans. However, that is neither here nor there. You are correct about one thing though."

Sheriff Wolfe raised an eyebrow in silent sarcastic inquiry.

"We have received nothing from the man in black." She unnecessarily straightened her skirts. "It is a good thing neither of us paid him any money up front." She sighed softly in dissatisfaction.

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

Michael proved that chameleons could stand over six feet tall and have green eyes as he somehow ended up in the White Room Saloon having a drink or two with Suba like they were old friends.

Madeline had given him a disapproving glare but had not approached him, instead favoring Suba with a winning smile. Michael smiled as he realized he was no longer the favored child. *Such was life.* He toasted his thoughts with another shot of whiskey and laughed at some off-color remark that Suba made. *I wonder what Nikita is doing tonight?*

***

Suba glanced speculatively at Michael. He had not missed the look of pure venom that Madeline had bestowed on this pretty boy in black. He made a mental note to ask Madeline about Michael. For now, though, it looked like he could make this pretty boy his villain in the little drama he was planning on playing out with the beautiful Nik.

Suba grinned in delight at the thought of having all that money at his disposal ... and Nik, of course.

***

The hair on the back of Michael's neck stood at the sight of Suba's grin but Michael kept his countenance blank and only a little loose, as though he was beginning to be affected by the whiskey. Something shimmered in the air surrounding Suba that seemed to scream ill intent, even more than Michael had originally assumed.

*Perhaps I should visit Nikita before I do anything else?* Michael studiously ignored the fact that he had been desperately seeking an excuse, any excuse, to justify riding out to the Circle K and seeing Nikita.

***

Nikita returned to the homestead humming a little tune, feeling relaxed for the first time in days, since her last encounter with Michael if she were truthful. Captain Volker had been entertaining, polite, and so very charming. Nikita had enjoyed herself very much. *Maybe being with Michael has helped me understand that I can enjoy men's company without worrying that they will want something from me that I don't, or rather didn't, want to give?*

***

Helmut sighed and looked at the ceiling of his tent. She was enchanting, fresh and pure. An angel stranded on the earthly plain. He sighed again, his mind replaying the evening, lingering on the memory of Nik laughing, her infectious smile, the purity of her gaze. He shifted uncomfortably as his body remembered the scent of her hair, the softness of her breath. *SIGH*

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

Diablo sped up. He recognized some familiar landmarks and scents. Soon he would be back in Angel land. His ears perked up as he thought of her glistening white coat and those most beautiful eyes. *Ahhh.*

***

Belinda stood in the kitchen kneading biscuit dough. She was still chuckling over Nik's attempts to help. She sighed and shook her head. *I don't know why she keeps trying. It's just not in her nature.* Nik had eagerly accepted Belinda's laughing dismissal from the kitchen following the flour incident and had gone to the stables with an apology and a grin.

One of the new helpers, Karen, came into the kitchen. "There is a man on the front step looking for Nik," she relayed in a worried tone.

"Do you know him?" Belinda asked as she wiped her hands off on her apron.

Karen smoothed her dress down her body in a distinctive caressing motion. "I don't recognize him, but I sure would like to know him," she answered, her tone one of pure sensual speculation.

Belinda refrained from rolling her eyes but she could not stop the wish that some of these people would go home.

***

Michael stood on the front step not surprised that he was not invited inside. He was surprised, however, to hear a woman's voice, not Nikita's, as the door swung open. "Why didn't you invite him inside?"

***

Belinda opened the door and came face-to-face with the man in black. His eyes of green glittered in curiosity and speculation and Belinda felt an uncomfortable zing through her veins that provoked a fight-flight-or-fall-flat-on-your-back response in her. *No wonder Nik is so conflicted.*

Belinda cleared her throat and looked at the man in black. "I'm sorry, but Nik told me that she didn't want to speak with you."

Michael gazed at her, his face unreadably stony.

Belinda cleared her throat again. She looked behind her and then moved forward, tilting her head closer to him. "Actually, I should probably tell you ... Walter is not real happy with you at the moment, it might be a good idea if you did not run into him." Belinda looked up at Michael, concern for his well-being obvious in her expression. It obviously had not occurred to her that Michael was a good 30 years younger, faster and stronger than Walter.

Michael nodded, heeding the warning. Anyone who had survived for as long as Walter had in their business was a worthy opponent and someone to be taken seriously.

Belinda dug into her dress pocket and held out the ring that Nik had given her. "This is yours, I believe."

Wordlessly, Michael took the ring and held it between his thumb and forefinger, the ring carelessly sparkling in the sun. "Where is she?" Michael consciously did not flinch at the sympathy evident in Belinda's eyes.

Belinda pursed her lips momentarily in thought and then came to a decision. "She's in the long stables." She pointed out the building to him.

Michael nodded his thanks and started for the stables.

***

Nikita stabbed the pitchfork into the hay, jiggled it and tossed the forkful of hay into the stall. She repeated the motion, falling into a pattern that was both soothing and free of thought.

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

Walter leaned against the north stable door, watching Nik fork new hay over and over into the stalls on the left. "You okay, Sugar?" he asked as he viewed her set, determined expression.

Nikita jerked in response to his voice and stopped forking for a moment, wrapping her hands around the top of the pitchfork handle. "I'm fine, Walter."

"We have someone else who is supposed to do this." Walter waved a hand vaguely around the stables, encompassing the whole building in 'this.'

Nikita grinned. "I know, but I felt like doing it, so I sent her away. It's good for me to remember how much work there is on the property every now and then. Keeps me appreciative."

Walter chuckled. If there was one thing Nik did not do, that was take people for granted. He had never met a land owner so aware of all of the people living on the land as Nik. "Yeah, you are really in danger of doing that."

Nikita grinned.

"Need any help? I imagine I still remember how to handle a pitchfork."

Nikita glanced at Walter, taking in the years on him and the frailty visible underneath the cheerful front as if for the first time. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea how old Walter was, he just was. "No thanks, Walter. I need the exercise." She smiled to take the sting out of the refusal and Walter shrugged good-naturedly, not exactly disappointed to be turned down.

Walter gave her a jaunty little salute and headed off for the homestead, his stride brisk and his mind occupied with the idea of sneaking in a little afternoon delight with Belinda while everyone else was slaving away. He whistled a little tune in anticipation.

***

Michael leaned against the south stable door, watching Nikita fork new hay over and over into the stalls on the left. "Nikita."

Nikita froze, the pitchfork waist high quivering with a load of hay. She slowly raised her head to look at him, blinking to see if the sight of him would disappear. It didn't.

She watched as he moved away from the doorway and headed into the stables, coming closer to her.

"Did you miss me?" Michael asked. "I told you I would be back," Michael's voice lowered until it was mere caress of sound, tantalizing, tempting, tingling.

Nikita closed her eyes, fighting the instinctive response of her body. The same body that wanted to throw the pitchfork down and jump on Michael, rain kisses on him and beg him to never leave again. That treacherous body. That traitorous body. That Benedict Arnold of a body.

That aching body.

***

Michael paced closer, his eyes devouring his golden angel. Her hair was swept up under her hat, with tantalizing trails escaping the confinement. Her neck was bare, beckoning his hands to stroke and his lips to place a soft kiss on the vulnerable nape. Her strong body was glistening as a result of her labors. He could just smell the sweet crispness of her skin over the other more earthy smells of the stable. She made him think of a crisp ripened apple, firm, delicious and something you just wanted to sink your teeth into.

Michael fought his body's response to the stimulation. He knew he had to speak with her -- first. He had to make her understand that he was back but he wasn't done. He had to make her understand that things were only going to get worse before they got better. Yes, he decided, he had to speak with her. Never mind that his body was ready to skip the preliminaries, rip off all the clothes being worn in the stable, slide against her until they were both crazed, lick every inch of her and then bury itself deep inside her welcoming warmth. Never mind that his body craved the only place it had ever really called home. No, never mind that. He had to speak with her -- first.

***

Nikita opened her eyes, pulled herself together, and threw the forkful of hay at Michael. "Get out of here, you Son of a Bitch!"

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

Madeline casually wiped the perspiration from her forehead and then leaned over to untie the ropes. A grateful, satisfied whimper met her actions and she smiled with professional charm. "Same time, next week?"

Another weak whimper confirmed the appointment.

Madeline smiled again, injecting just enough sincerity to appease the ego. "Always a pleasure doing business with you, Mayor."

***

Sheriff Wolfe frowned at the telegram in his hand.

Behind the window Simon blatantly leaned forward, watching the Sheriff's reaction. "Bad news?" Simon asked, well aware of the contents of the telegram.

The Sheriff turned and looked at Simon wordlessly, his blue eyes sparkling like a sun-spotted glacier.

Simon swallowed audibly.

"What did you say?" Sheriff Wolfe questioned, his tone colder than the glint of his eyes.

Simon shrunk back into himself, shook his head and mumbled, "Nothing, nothing. I didn't say anything."

Sheriff Wolfe nodded and stalked away.

***

Sheriff Wolfe entered the White Room with barely a peremptory knock. "Madeline, I've just ..." his voice trailed off as he realized that Madeline was not alone in the room.

For one full minute the three of them looked at each other, thoughts completely hidden behind three rigidly held masks of face.

"Your Honor," Sheriff Wolfe was the first to break the silence, tipping his head in an almost respectful greeting.

"Sheriff," drawled Dominic, no outward indication of his most recent session with Madeline visible other than a slightly heightened flush to his cheeks and the fact that he had yet to pull his boots back on.

Sheriff Wolfe allowed his eyes to travel to the mayor's stocking clad feet before he looked again at Madeline. The glance he had bestowed upon Simon seemed like a warm summer breeze compared to the chilliness now evident in his ice blue eyes.

Madeline delicately sipped her tea, amusement gleaming in her own eyes, unfazed by the undercurrents flowing through the room with the force of a small tidal wave.

"You were saying?" the Mayor prompted Sheriff Wolfe in the dead silence that followed their acknowledgment of each other's presence.

"I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll come back another time," Sheriff Wolfe gritted out between clenched teeth, the polite smile strained to the breaking point.

"As you wish," Madeline nodded and smiled.

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

Captain Volker stopped his horse at the front gate of the Circle K and briefly fantasized about turning in and taking advantage of the Angel Nik's hospitality until she fell in love with him. He sighed. *No time for that now. Duty calls. I have a job to do, but on the way back ... *

Honor shifted beneath Captain Volker, his thoughts caught by sight of a delectable white mare prancing in a pen not too far away. He lifted his head and took a deep breath. *Ahhh, what beautiful foals she could give me.* Honor's eyes narrowed as he caught the scent and then sight of a coal black stallion watching the same mare. *Rival.*

The coal black stallion turned and deliberately looked Honor in the eyes before he blatantly turned away and walked over to the white mare, rubbing his neck against hers in an obvious show of possession. The white mare snuffled against the coal black stallion with pleasure and Honor's eyes narrowed even more. Only the strictest discipline kept him from throwing his master and leaping the fence to fight for the affections of the white mare. Honor firmly reminded himself that he had a job to do first. *But on the way back ...*

***

Michael spit out a mouthful of hay. His hands automatically brushed down his clothing. His eyes locked on the tines of the pitchfork which Nikita now brandished in front of her in an obvious move to keep him at a distance. He absently noted, with professional admiration, that the fork did not quiver in her grasp and was not overextended for easy disarming.

"Ni-ki-ta," he extended her name, deliberately roughening his accent. He had long ago noticed the effects his accent had upon the women of this country. Not a fair tactic, he acknowledged to himself, but at this juncture, all gloves were off. He had to make her understand before he did anything else. It was a moral imperative.

***

Nikita shivered at the sound of her name drawled so dangerously and mentally slapped herself to regain control. *Don't let him work those tricks on you. You have to know he's had plenty of experience with women, plenty indeed.*

"Just leave, Michael. You have your list. Did you buy your way into Madeline's good graces with it, or was your goal her bed?" Nikita growled bitterly, appalled by the spasm of jealousy which had forced out that last speculation.

***

Michael smiled at the dismayed look that fleeted across Nikita's face. *She still cares or she would not be jealous, but she is surprised that she still cares. I must proceed carefully, calmly, quietly.* "Nikita, put down the pitchfork and let us talk."

"I can hear you fine from this side of the fork," Nikita assured him with patently false good cheer.

"Perhaps, but I would prefer to have you lower it all the same."

"I'm sure you would, but I would prefer to not do so," Nikita stressed.

Michael paced around Nikita, watching as she slowly moved with him, always keeping the fork between them. "If you wish to fence with me, should I not have a sword as well?" he asked quietly.

Nikita frowned, puzzled. "Fence?"

"Well, you are threatening me with a sharp pointed object, are you not? It seems only fair that I should have a similar object to defend myself. All I have," Michael slipped his hand down to his holster but did not unlock the confining strap, "is my gun. Hardly a fair fight."

Nikita laughed, "Are you suggesting that I give you a pitchfork of your own? Or maybe you'd rather we just shoot it out like real men?"

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

Michael chuckled softly. His eyes moved over her, taking in the curves and valleys revealed by her rawhides and simple shirt, lingering on the barest hint of cleavage and visually caressing the soft swell of her breasts, before returning to concentrate with singular intensity on her mouth. "Oh, I already know you are not a real man," he assured her. The memories of how he found that out definitely colored his tone, his accent roughening naturally as his body clamored to do an in-depth study and verify his assumption.

Nikita felt her whole body flush, the blood boiling to the surface with her own memories. She felt her body moistening in welcoming. Nikita knew without glancing downward that her nipples were poking her shirt front out, asking for attention and she despaired at being unmoved by this conversation against Michael when her body had traitorously changed sides and was rooting for the away team.

"There isn't another pitchfork, so I guess you will just have to shoot me," Nikita told him with false bravado, saying anything she could think of to turn the conversation onto safer topics, and right now murder was safer than the subject they were on!

Michael's lips quirked in a half-smile. "I don't want to shoot you. Perhaps we should try hand-to-hand?"

Nikita blinked at him. "You want to wrestle?"

Michael nodded and moved closer, almost to the tines. "I'd love to wrestle with you ... but, we need to talk first."

Nikita frowned. "Go ahead and talk." She poked out slightly with the fork, more for emphasis than as an attempt to do him injury.

Michael casually sidestepped the swipe.

Realizing he wasn't going to be able to persuade Nikita to put down the pitchfork, Michael immediately dismissed the idea of forcibly taking it from her. *No reason to further irritate her.*

"I have come back to finish the job I was sent to do," Michael told her.

"Sent to do?" Nikita's brow furrowed in thought. She remembered the fact that she observed Michael watching her before they had teamed up. *What had he been sent to do and by whom?*

"Yes," Michael nodded. "I was sent to make sure a certain person stopped their current activity." Michael hesitated, unsure how much he wanted to reveal of both his mission and his true nature.

"A certain person stopped their current activity?" Nikita quoted. "Well, that's vague enough," she frowned at him, unhappy with his pussy-footing. She bit her lower lip and asked the question that had echoed in her head since he had taken the list from her. "Did Madeline hire you?"

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

Michael paused before answering her. The lesser of two evils? The only question was which of the two evils was actually the lesser? Did he admit to Nikita that he was a weapon for her government, someone who was pointed and shot with deadly accuracy, or did he admit that the woman Nikita despised the most in the world had discussed Nikita's capture with him, while she dangled a purse of 30 silver pieces in it and promised other things that he would rather not think about.

Nikita's mouth tightened as Michael paused before answering her. She could almost see him deciding what to tell her and what not to tell her. "She did, didn't she? She asked you to capture me," Nikita confirmed instead of questioned. "Is that what you've come back to do, fulfill your bargain with the Queen of Hell? Well, forget it." She poked the fork out at him. "You failed this time." Nikita's blood roared through her veins, all thoughts of attraction disappearing under the force of the tidal wave of fury at Michael's most basic betrayal. She lunged for him, the fork aimed at his mid-section.

Michael leapt back and to the right, barely missing a stall post, but definitely missing the tines that were aimed at him with deadly precision. "Nikita. Stop it. We need to talk."

"Forget it, Michael. You are not going to sweet-talk me into letting you get anywhere near me," Nikita blazed as she shifted her weight and grasp on the pitchfork, preparing for another strike.

Michael sidestepped again with an impatient sigh. *So much for not irritating her.* He mentally ran through the layout of the stable, seeking refuge and some form of protection. He had to keep himself whole. Nikita would never forgive herself if she actually harmed him. Michael remembered the position of the sickle and started maneuvering his dodging so he was within reach.

Michael grabbed the sickle off of the wall and swung it out and over so that the blade clanged off of the tines. The noise reverberated throughout the stables and the tools reverberated in their hands.

"Are you ready to listen?" Michael asked mildly, knowing by the blaze in her eyes that Nikita was nowhere ready to listen.

"Keep your fancy words and your ... your accent to yourself!"

Michael sighed and squared off against her, defensive posture only. She lunged, he parried, over and over again. *Fencing American style.* He had to admire her determination, if nothing else. But ... enough was enough.

Michael started moving closer and closer, pressing the advantages that her fury left open.

Nikita moved defensively back, running out of maneuvering room. Now that Michael had picked up the tempo of the fight, the clashing of metal to metal was starting to wear her arms down, the pitchfork started to dip due to the unending exertion.

Nikita backed into a stable wall. Her exit was cut off, the fork was trembling in her hands, her chest was heaving, her lungs were leaden, and her hands were cramping.

Michael stood a safe distance away, the sickle held at the ready.

With a small cry of disgust, Nikita threw the pitchfork away. "You'll never take me back to her! Never!"

Michael tossed the sickle on top of the pitchfork, his movements casual, his eyes locked on her face. *She is magnificent!* "Are you ready to listen?" he repeated.

Nikita's upper lip curled and soundlessly she rushed him, tackling him into the remaining open bales of hay.

Michael allowed Nikita's hurtling body to knock them into the hay, absorbing the impact of her body with negligent ease, cushioning her for the fall before flipping her over onto her back and anchoring her wiggling body with his superior weight.

Nikita growled and tried to squirm. Her hands were captured over her head by one of his and he held her still but settled further onto her, letting her feel him lightly crushing her into the hay, letting her feel his rapidly beating heart pound against her chest, letting her smell his unique scent, letting her accept the inevitable.

Nikita stopped fighting against him, her senses flooded with anger, denial, desire, fear, misery and plain old-fashioned lust. She resorted to the only weapon left to her, her tongue. "I won't go back with you willingly. Do you really think you can drag me kicking and screaming off of my own property? Do you really think Walter will let you do that? He's already threatened you," she warned him.

"Nikita," Michael stroked his free hand over her cheek, cupping her jaw, "hush."

"Can you really just give me over to her?" Nikita asked, her lower lip trembling despite her fierce direction for it to be firm.

Michael thrust his groin at her, imprinting his arousal onto her body. "I'm not giving you over to anyone. You're mine," he declared in a harsh whisper moments before he pressed his lips to hers. "Mine," he muttered against her mouth and flicked his tongue out to trace her decidedly trembling and softening lips. "Mine."

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

"Tell me about Michael," Suba requested. He lounged against the bar in Madeline's saloon and scanned the thin crowd as he waited for an answer.

"Well, what do you want to know? How beautiful he is? How talented he is? How absolutely delicious he is? How ..."

Suba interrupted before he became nauseous. "Who is he? Where did he come from? How fast is he with that gun? Why is he in town?"

A soft female voice tittered, "Well, I don't know about any of that. It's not something one discusses in the dark," she giggled. "I will tell you that he is real, real slow with his gun."

Suba sighed. This was the third of Madeline's girls that had been no help at all. *Of course, if he was active as they all claim, he wouldn't be able to move.* He doubted much, if any, of the information was valid. Still it did seem that Michael had made an impression on the women in town. Suba's ego felt a little pricked by the information. *That just makes him more attractive as a villain.*

***

Captain Volker raised his hand to halt his company and the silence of cessation of movement was almost deafening. The Captain looked around him with both curiosity and surprise. It was his understanding that Section One was a thriving community. He glanced at the new buildings and the sparkling paint and the total lack of people. It was almost like someone had come through with a weapon that killed people but left the buildings in pristine condition.

"I don't like it," Stanley stated, his horse stopped a respectful two feet behind the Captain's.

"It does seem sparse, does it not?" Captain Volker agreed, his eyes following the sign 'White Room Saloon' rocking in a gentle breeze. Just then the doors on the upper floor of the White Room opened and several scantily clad women came out and started calling down to the soldiers.

Captain Volker chuckled while his Aide, Stanley, turned bright red. "Seems someone is still here, anyway." He motioned to proceed.

"Yes, Sir," came Stanley's strangled reply.

***

Suba stepped out onto the porch of the White Room Saloon, his eyes narrowed speculatively at the coach surrounded by soldiers.

***

Sheriff Wolfe hitched his pants up and rubbed a quick shirt sleeve across his Sheriff's star bringing it to a sparkle. He stepped out of the jailhouse and stood, watching the army convoy.

Captain Volker spotted the Sheriff, halted the convoy and nudged Honor over to the jailhouse, etiquette and all that. Honor moved easily enough but Helmut noticed that the horse moved so that he was upwind of the Sheriff as if he had smelled something he didn't like. "Sheriff." Captain Volker nodded.

"Captain." Sheriff Wolfe nodded in return. "Just passing through our little town?"

"Afraid so."

***

Suba straightened away from the porch post he had been leaning against and wandered over in the general direction of the coach. He sauntered around the mounted convoy, eyeing their pretty bridles and saddles, smiling at the odd soldier or two as his path meandered closer and closer to the coach. He stopped at the mounted soldier just behind the coach and nodded to the soldier. The soldier nodded back and kept his eyes locked on Suba. Suba stepped closer to the horse and pretended an undue interest in the horse's eyes and teeth, making a 'tsk, tsk' sound in the back of his throat. The soldier looked at his horse in alarm. Suba, having succeeded in diverting the soldier's attention, moved closer to the coach and was just reaching a hand out to move the pulled shade aside from one of the side openings when the long barrel of a rifle slid out that same opening. "Don't touch that," stated a gravely voice from inside the coach. Suba backed up with a grin and raised empty hands.

*Now that is very interesting indeed.*

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

When Michael tried to pull away from her, Nikita followed him, pressing her lips to his. Michael succumbed to the lure and abandoned his attempt to put some safe distance between them. He broke the kiss so that he could nibble on her chin and drop kisses across her cheeks and her eyelids. Each of Nikita's soft moans fed the flame that burned within him, boiled his blood and encouraged the conflagration of his body.

***

Madeline watched Suba's antics from the white room window. *What was he up to?* That was one of the dangers of hiring outside help, sometimes you couldn't control them. An anguished whimper drew her attention away from the window. "Quiet!" she snapped, shaking her head at the interruption.

With a repressed sigh she turned back into the room and glared at the man who had dared to intrude upon her thoughts. "Well now," she stated as she walked over to the wall and studied the implements hanging there, "you've upset me."

***

Walter snuck up behind Belinda, creeping closer and closer. He grabbed her and broke into a smile at her small shriek. A smile that disappeared quickly as he had to duck to avoid being smacked upside the head by a floured hand.

"Whoa." Walter backed up, holding his hands high in surrender. "I give up. Don't hurt me."

"Walter! Are you trying to get yourself hurt? Don't do that!"

Walter smiled again, noting the sparkle in Belinda's eyes and the flush coloring her still smooth cheeks. *What fire!* "Now, now Belinda. I was just wondering if I could get some afternoon delight," he asked lasciviously as he winked at her.

"Humph." Belinda wiped her hands off on a towel and placed them on her hips. Though she tried to fight it, her lips twitched in a smile. "I shouldn't," she said in a reproving tone.

"Ah, but you will?"

Belinda laughed despite herself. "You old rascal. Yes, I will."

***

Michael wrenched himself away from Nikita and raised himself on his knees, his chest heaved, his arousal pushed against his rawhides in an alarming fashion, his eyes scorched her skin with the desire blazing in them.

Nikita whimpered at the loss of his touch and his mouth. With her eyes clouded with passion and her kiss-softened lips, she held her arms out to him in a gesture of acceptance as old as the battle of the sexes.

Michael shuddered rawly and closed his eyes against the tempting vision in front of him. With trembling limbs he stood up and walked a few steps away, his erection causing him to move gingerly.

"Michael?" Nikita questioned, raising herself up on her elbows. She watched him move away from her, his strong frame shivering with the effort.

"We have to talk," he said, his normally smooth, silken voice roughened to coarse sandpaper quality by tension echoed around the barn.

***

Nikita sat up and caught her breath. "Yes," she said softly, breathlessly. She coughed and cleared her throat. "Yes," she said, her voice stronger. "We need to talk."

Michael moved into the darkened area opposite the hay stack where Nikita sat, blending into the shadows. "I was sent here by our government," he stopped to take a shaky breath. He swallowed and fought back the rising conflict brewing within him, conflict between wanting to keep his true nature a secret from Nikita, never staining her with his guilt and crime, and wanting there to be no secrets between them, no more misunderstandings that could be avoided, no darkness in their lives.

"Wait," Nikita interrupted. She stood up, absently patting the hay off of her body and flipping it out of her hair, her hat long lost, as she moved closer to him. She stopped a few feet short from where he stood, her hair gleaming in the golden sunlight, and held her hand out to him. "Don't stay in the shadows Michael, come into the light."

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

Michael hesitated and Nikita curled her fingers in invitation. He moved forward tentatively, as shy as a new colt trying its legs for the first time. Nikita smiled encouragingly.

Michael placed his hand in hers, surprised as the warmth of her hand seemed to drain the tension in his body. He flexed his fingers and she squeezed his hand.

Michael examined her hand, a strong sturdy hand, not afraid to put in a day's hard work and still able to cradle his heart so tenderly. He wondered if she was aware of the power she controlled. He traced his fingertips across the back of her hand and up the side, gliding his fingers across hers, using his palm to smooth across her tips. It seemed easier to concentrate on the little dance their hands were doing than to look in her innocent eyes as he began to talk. "I was sent here by our government. Certain individuals were alarmed at the rate in which Sheriff Wolfe was acquiring land and it seems rumors were heard that he was not acquiring this land by fair means. Wolfe is a war hero and so no one wanted to accuse him without significant proof that ..." Michael told Nikita everything as they stood in the sunlight in the long stables, finally reaching a comfort level that allowed him to look at her even as their hands continued to caress. ".... George simply wants the matter taken care of now. Madeline's list of payoffs, blackmail and outright theft is more than enough proof. Given Wolfe's service to the country, it has been decided to allow him to die with dignity instead of being branded a criminal and being jailed for life or executed." Michael stopped, his tale told.

"I wish you had told me from the beginning. Did you think I wouldn't help?"

Michael shook his head, his lips quirked in an almost-smile. "I took the job of capturing you to allow me a cover story for staying in town so I could observe the Sheriff and Madeline but as soon as I lifted the spyglass and saw you, my priorities took an immediate shift. You became my number one concern."

Nikita laughed, low and deep in her throat.

Michael's hand tightened on hers in response. He deliberately released her hand. "It is still not done. I need to fulfill my mission before I am free."

"And when you are free? What then?"

Michael traced her lips with a fingertip. "That depends on you."

He shook his head to clear it of the sensual cobwebs that had built up. "I need for you to stay here and not harass Madeline. I think Madeline and the Sheriff have plans for the army convoy that is moving through town." Michael looked at the sun's position in the sky. "Actually, it should have already gone through town by now."

"Helmut? Is he in danger?"

"Helmut?" Michael's eyes narrowed. "What about Captain Volker?"

Nikita smiled at the correction. "Helmut is leading the convoy."

"How do you know that?"

"They stopped here last night and I spent some time chatting with him."

Michael went completely still. "Really."

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

Diablo looked up at the sound of Michael's whistle. He was a little dizzy from the scent of Angel. She had been teasing him with come-hither glances from those beautiful eyes and the soft sway of her backside. He had assessed the gelding that dogged Angel's footsteps and decided he had no worries there, but that other stallion from earlier ... *That pretty boy.* Now that may be a problem later on. *Of course, he was on that side of the fence and I'm on this side, so ...*

Michael whistled again and Diablo, with a quick neck rub to Angel, responded to Michael's call.

***

Birkoff sauntered into the kitchen, snagged a cookie and chuckled, throwing Walter a grin. "You old fox, you. To think I really believed you earlier when you threatened the mysterious Michael," he laughed.

Walter frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on Walter! Are you going to tell me that you don't know Michael is with Nikita in the long stables? Yeah, right. I should have known you had a secret agenda, trying to get them together?"

"HE WHAT!?!" Walter screamed just before he hightailed it out the door, the speed of his exit belying his age.

Birkoff stared for a moment, his mouth open in amazement. He was snapped out of his shock by a sharp huff from Belinda and the feeling of the cookie being snapped out of his hand. Crumbs trickled from his fingers.

"Hey!"

"No cookies for you, you ... tattletale."

***

Nikita rubbed Angel's nose as the two of them watched their men in black ride off. "What is it about bad boys?" Nikita asked Angel.

Angel snorted and tossed her head, her mane flipping.

"Yeah, they do have great butts," Nikita agreed.

***

Walter rounded the north door of the long stables, his shotgun in hand, only to find them empty.

He raced through the structure and exited the south doors, spotting Nikita at the south pen with her horse.

"Where is he?" Walter asked Nikita.

"He's gone," Nikita answered, scratching Angel in the "just right" spot.

"You okay? He hurt you?"

Nikita turned to Walter, noting the shotgun with surprise. "I'm fine, Walter. What are you going to do with that?"

Walter's mouth tightened. "I am going to take a pound out of his butt is what I am going to do."

"Walter!" Nikita gaped at him in astonishment.

"Look, sugar, there are things about Michael you don't know..."

"Well then, tell me."

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

"Romeo work?" Nikita questioned, half-amused at the title.

Walter shrugged. "That's not the official title of his division but it fits."

"So what did he do as a Romeo? I presume from the name he was in a romance division of some kind. Did he seduce wives for their husbands' secrets?"

Walter stared at Nikita, his mouth agape. "How can you be so casual about it? The man is a professional heart-breaker. He uses women and tosses them aside without another thought."

Nikita shook her head in disagreement. "That's not true, Walter."

He snorted. "How would you know? I know him. I know of his work, rather. He was incredibly efficient. He succeeded in every job he was assigned."

Nikita smiled. "Oh, I don't doubt that. He's very skilled. But you are wrong about the rest, Walter. Michael never wanted to hurt any of those women and he certainly didn't go about his business as cold-heartedly as you make out."

"How the hell would you know? Walter exploded, his frustration with Nikita causing him to jump to his feet and throw his hands in the air.

Nikita looked at Walter, her brow wrinkled in puzzlement, surprised at Walter's obtuseness. "Why, it is obvious. All you have to do is look in his eyes."

***

Captain Volker slowed Honor down to a trot as the advance scout returned to the convoy.

The scout snapped off a salute and immediately launched into a report. "I don't like it Sir, but I can't tell you why. There are no visible signs of a trap, but the hair on my neck is twitching."

Helmut paused. He had learned to trust this man's instincts and if he reported a problem, Helmut believed him. "Better tell me what is going on."

The scout started his report when there was the sound of a soldier crying out "Halt" and a murmur of comments rippled its way up the ranks.

Stanley drew alongside the advance scout and waited for a nod from Helmut before proceeding. "Excuse the interruption Captain but this man insists on speaking with you."

Helmut pivoted Honor around and came face to face with the Angel Nikita's Black Shadow.

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

Suba rode up to the entrance of the Circle K. The entrance looked deserted and blithely open for the plundering he noted with surprise. However, upon closer observation it was apparent that any overt marauder would find himself face to face with a snootful of guns. Suba grinned to himself as he casually rode to the front door. He watched the people in the gardens watch him, though no one made a move against him. He knocked on the door and was quite pleased with the scrumptious morsel that opened the door for him.

Karen smiled at the most attractive gentleman on the porch and smoothed her hair down in a practiced move that thrust her breasts into prominence. She always took special care to cut her dresses so that she maintained just enough decency to not have wives throw tomatoes at her and still make sure that she caught the eyes of a gentleman or three.

"Can I help you?"

Suba smiled and remembering his assigned role, stifled his grin to more of an embarrassed grimace. "It's my understanding that one can take refuge from Sheriff Wolfe and Section One here?"

Karen nodded. "Yes, that is true. Do you need refuge?"

"Yes, I do."

"Come inside and you can tell Walter your story."

*Walter?* "I'm sorry, did you say Walter? I understood this ranch belonged to Nik Wirth, the scourge of Section One."

Karen grimaced, her fists tightened and released. *Why is it that the first thing the men ask for is Nik?* She pouted. "Yes, this is Nik's spread but Walter is the one you need to talk to."

Suba's mouth twisted in a sneer. *Great! So, who is Walter? Her squeeze? Surely not that skinny little four-eyes he saw her with the other day? Another complication. If she weren't so tall and so blonde, I'd hitch a ride out of town.*

***

Leon smiled as Terri backed out of the room. He glanced over at his guest. "How was your session?"

Dominic smiled and flexed his shoulders. "Madeline was in top form. God, I'm going to miss that woman."

Leon tipped his glass in recognition of Madeline's expertise. "Maybe we can keep her," he suggested.

Dominic laughed, almost choking on his port. "Oh, there will be no domesticating that one. When Wolfe goes, she goes, the two of them are like those ... what do you call those siblings that look alike?"

"Identical twins," Leon supplied.

"Oh, yes, those children. Madeline and Paul are like identical twins. Oh, they don't look alike, indeed not, but one doesn't move without the other. Though, I do believe her continuing to practice her craft is a matter of contention between the two of them," Dominic wheezed trying to clear his throat.

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

Walter looked at the prissy, refined gentleman across the table from him. His first instinct was to slap that insincere look of concern off the snotty face, but he held his hand. He tried to remember Nik's admonishment that everyone was worth a chance. *Except Madeline that is.* Walter smiled in memory of Nik's admittance that some people were beyond redemption.

Suba squirmed in his seat, uneasy, despite himself at the look of feral satisfaction that crossed the old man's face. For a brief second Suba feared that his nefarious plot had been discovered somehow, before his natural arrogance reasserted itself and he knew he was still safe.

"Well," Walter drawled the word out deliberately. "I understand that you've been having some difficulties with Sheriff Wolfe?"

Suba attempted to look abashed and launched into his rehearsed spiel of running afoul of the Sheriff over a poker game.

Walter stifled a sigh. He could not even remember the last time Wolfe bothered himself with any policing duties in Section One. The Sheriff had his own agenda and the townspeople were often left to fend for themselves against the occasionally motivated petty criminal. Still, it was possible, especially if Wolfe had been involved in the poker game at the time.

Suba finished his tale, reminding himself to not go overboard. There was something unsettling about this old man's eyes, they seemed to see too much and too deeply. Although it went against his grain, Suba forced himself to look down, not meeting Walter's eyes. *Never look a stallion directly in the eyes,* Suba reminded himself, chagrined to remember he had felt the same uneasiness around that Bounty Hunter, Michael. There was the same distinct air of "toughness" around the two men.

"I see," Walter stated, letting the statement hang in the air between them. When Suba did not embellish on his tale or squirm under his regard, Walter reluctantly gave him the "Welcome to the Circle K" speech. "This is the Circle K. This is where you will learn, where you will work and where, hopefully, you will find peace and respite from the tyrannies of Section One. As a new member of our family you are welcome to participate in the upkeep of the land and estate."

Suba kept from grimacing, barely. *If they think I am going to do grunt work, well ...*

Walter's eyes narrowed as he read the prissiness of the man in front of him. *No good will come of this one. I think I'll put him in the back forty.*

***

Michael rubbed Diablo's nose once and walked toward Captain Volker's tent.

Diablo watched him walk away, waiting until he was assured that Michael had safely gained entrance into the tent before he turned to look around him. A flash of Palomino coloring caught his eye and he snorted, his lip curling instinctively as he caught scent of another stallion. *It's that pretty boy.*

Honor kicked at the dirt and threw his head in the air, an angry whinny cutting through the air. *Well, lookee here, it's the boy in black.*

Diablo sauntered up the length of his lead rope and locked eyes with Honor.

*That pretty blonde will make a nice addition to my harem,* Honor assured Diablo.

*Listen pretty boy, hooves off, she's mine.*

*Hah! We'll see.*

Diablo flipped his mane, *We did see, didn't we? She completely ignored you to nuzzle with me.*

Honor sneered in memory and the air was rended with horse whinnies as the stallions engaged in a mud slinging match.

*Gelding*

*Pretty Boy*

*Mule*

*Mare*

Honor reared up at that last insult, beating his hooves against the air separating them while Diablo sneered.

A Private ran over to the two horses, yelling at them, but smart enough to keep his distance. "Easy boy, easy. Someone help me!" the Private called out, trying to calm Honor down.

Captain Volker stuck his head out the tent opening. "Honor!" he yelled sternly.

Honor dutifully, if not resentfully, obeyed his Master, his tail twitching and his hooves itching to knock that smug look off of Diablo's face.

Diablo walked to the other side of his lead rope and casually started chewing grass as though he had no idea what the problem was.

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

"What is with these biscuits?" Birkoff complained even as he ate another one.

Belinda glanced around the table and was relieved to see that Karen was not there. She had wondered the same thing but had the good manners to not mention it. Somehow she had forgotten that where food was concerned, Birkoff was very vocal.

"Karen made them," Belinda told him in a quiet voice, trying to stop the discussion before it began.

"Karen? What did she do, drop the dough on the floor?"

Belinda tried to shush Birkoff.

"Hey! I thought I saw you making the biscuits earlier, why did Karen suddenly end up doing it?" Birkoff asked, oblivious to Walter's smirk and Belinda's blushes.

***

".... and Captain Volker?" Michael stated in his subdued voice, stopping the soldier just at the flap of the tent, moments before he could exit.

Helmut stopped, almost to the tent's door. Considering his first impression of him, he had been only mildly surprised to discover the Shadow's true rank, but the information that Madeline, Queen of the White Room, and the slimy Sheriff had intended to relieve him of the gun purchase he was on his way to make had definitely surprised him. He had disliked being caught unaware and was strangely gratified that Michael, General Samuelle he corrected himself mentally, had not held his ignorance against him. Instead he had included Helmut in the discussion of various strategies to prevent not only the theft but the continued arrogance and domination of the dastardly duo.

"Yes, Sir?"

"I understand it is hard to resist the call of angels, but there is a certain light haired, blue-eyed angel ..." Michael trailed off not wishing to come right out and threaten the Captain. After all, Michael was well aware of how hard it was to resist the call of the Lorelei.

Helmut's shoulders slumped for a moment as he swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. "I understand ... Sir."

"Thank you, Captain." Michael's quiet appreciation startled the Captain and made the taste of defeat a little less bitter.

***

Walter sat back in his chair and smiled the smile of one well satisfied with life. Birkoff allowed himself to relax just the tiniest bit in response to the pleased look on Walter's face.

"A most excellent plan, Wild Boy."

Birkoff was so elated with the praise that he allowed the hated nickname to pass without comment or complaint. "You really think so? I tried to imagine all the possible scenarios ..." Birkoff's voice trailed off as his insecurities made themselves known.

Walter nodded. "I do, indeed, think so. You have mapped out a very plausible and most likely extremely accurate prediction of Madeline's next coach route. You've got a fine head for compiling information my boy."

Birkoff blushed at the tone of sincere praise in Walter's voice and beamed with accomplishment.

"Now, let's present this to Nik and relieve Madeline of some more of her ill-gotten gains," Walter laughed and rubbed his hands together.

Birkoff fairly skipped out of the room, heading out to find Nik.