Cowboy Noon


Dear Marshal,

I know it has been nearly two years since you have heard a single word. It is surely inappropriate for me to come to you now, but I am in desperate need of some assistance and I don't know where to turn.

Two months ago, Stanley Kowalski was arrested and convicted for the murders of three men. I know he did not do it, I know with all my heart, but nothing I have done has made any difference.

I've written you as my last hope.   I cannot see him hanged for murders I know he did not commit, but it seems at this point I am unable to stop it. I beg you, please tell me what I can do.

                                            Sincerely,
                                                        Meg Thatcher Kowalski

Benton Fraser noted the way Thatcher was carefully scribbled out before Kowalski was added to the name. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip while carefully folding the letter before tucking it thoughtfully into the envelope.   He looked up to see his sheriff, Ray Vecchio, cleaning his gun. Ray glanced up and saw the concern on Benton's face. Straightening, he cocked his head. "Is something wrong?"

Benton nodded slowly. "Stan is in trouble."

"Stan? Kowalski?" Ray asked in surprised. "Well, I'll be.   I never thought we'd hear from him again."

Benton looked at the letter.   "I was beginning to wonder myself and in actuality, it is still true."

"Huh?"

"This letter is from Meg Thatcher.   I'm sure you remember her." He watched Ray nod, then continued. "It appears Stan has been arrested for a crime she's certain he didn't commit."

"Oh," Ray said slowly. "Oh," he repeated, still a bit surprised.

"She wants to know what she can do to help him."

"Well, what can she do?" Ray asked.

Fraser ran his tongue along his lower lip and stood.   "Wait for us to get there," he responded.

Ray looked surprised. He considered it a moment. "Oh."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, but do you think The Duck Boys are ready to handle this place alone?"

Fraser nodded. "They'll have to be," he replied. "I don't expect trouble anyway. The men and women of this town are strong enough to keep things in line."

Ray agreed. The town had grown considerably in the last couple of years with its new reputation for safety. To keep the town well protected and patrolled, Fraser had taken the recently unemployed cowhands and turned them into deputies. Huey, Louie, and Dewey took patrols, helping the odd citizen and keeping track of troublemakers.

The cow herder who had employed them passed away, leaving his stock to his son. The son moved and while the cowhands considered going along for a while, in the end they decided they really had become attached to the little town of Gochick.

Their first week as deputies, the boys had heard a ruckus at the saloon. Upon arrival, they found the place had been infiltrated by dozens of ducks who had lost their way during migration. As one of them nipped a patron, they saw that their first duty as deputies would be the sad task of saving lives by shoeing the ducks from the saloon and helping them back to their migratory patterns.

Ever since then, the town had affectionately referred to them as The Duck Boys.

><><><><><><

Benton stood in the bedroom carefully folding and rolling his clothing just before he placed them in the dark carpetbag.   He didn't hear Francesca enter the bedroom, but when she touched his shoulder, he turned to her and smiled.

"Going somewhere?" she asked.

Fraser nodded. "I'm afraid there has been some trouble. I'm turning the town over to The Duck Boys while Ray and I handle things."

"Is it dangerous?" she asked.

"I don't know," he responded, then let out a breath.   Stan and Francesca had a past.   He suddenly remembered it and knew keeping this from her would be a mistake. "Stan has been arrested. Ray and I are going to straighten it out."

Francesca's eyes widened. "What did he do?"

"Well, nothing, presumably, but he's been arrested for murder."

She gasped. "He would never…"

"I don't believe he would either," Fraser said, "but it has been quite some time. Maybe things have changed."

Francesca turned and he went back to packing.   A moment later, he watched her heave her suitcase onto the bed and turn toward her dresser.   He straightened. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Coming with you," she said as she placed a few items into the bottom of the baggage.

"No you're not," he stated.

"You can't stop me," she insisted, placing another handful of clothes into the case.

Fraser strode around the bed and stood beside her.   "It's too dangerous.   I can't let you go."

"I'll be careful. Look, Ben, I'm not going to let you and Ray go out there alone, getting involved in who knows what! Stan is in trouble and if I can be there for any kind of support, even if it's just to bring him soup, I'll do it. Do you understand me?"

Benton looked away. "It might become very dangerous. I don't know what the town is like. I'd be too worried about you to concentrate."

Francesca smiled. "That's sweet," she said softly. "I took care of myself very well before you got here, remember?   Could it possibly be worse than Gochick was?"

Fraser ran his thumbnail along his left eyebrow and sighed. "I suppose not, although here you had Ray and Stan to take care of you. Stan won't be of use and Ray will be too busy assisting me."

"Ray and Stan didn't have a lot of time for me either.   I'll be all right and I promise to stay away from anything risky, all right?" she pleaded.

Benton cocked his head, then smiled a little.   "All right, but you'll do what I tell you. I don't want you getting hurt."

She nodded and put her hands in his.   He bent down and kissed her gently.   "Pack lightly.   We can't take too much with us. We're picking up the stage first thing in the morning."

Nodding slowly, she pulled away slowly and went back to her dresser.

><><><><><><

Ray frowned when he saw Benton help Francesca down from the carriage. He stiffened his spine and watched as Benton took two bags from the back and set them on the ground beside her. He went into the stagecoach office and when he returned, he lifted the bags and offered Francesca his elbow.   As the two neared where he stood beside the coach waiting, Ray huffed.

"You're not bringing her," he stated.

Fraser looked surprised by the command, but simply loaded their bags onto the back. "Francesca and I had a long discussion about it and decided it would be all right."

"It might be dangerous," Ray argued.

Francesca scowled. "We've only been married for three months.   I'm not about to let him go off alone," she sneered.   "It's between the two of us, not you."

Ray shook his head and turned away, mumbling under his breath. Fraser returned to Francesca's side and opened the door to the coach. He helped her inside, then moved to the front.   "Are there any other fares?" he asked the driver.

The man shook his head. "Just you three, it looks like," he said.   "We have to wait for Bob, though.   He's my shotgun."

Fraser nodded and went to the back.   Securing the luggage in place, he then climbed in. Ray sat across from Frannie, glaring out the window. Fraser seated himself beside his fairly new bride and took her hand.   "I'm sorry, Ray.   I didn't realize it would bother you so greatly."

"No," he said. "As long as she stays out of the way, I guess I can live with it."   He continued to stare until they finally heard someone climb to the front of the coach and the coachman started their trek.

><><><><><><

It took two days to reach Pepper Creek where Stan and apparently Meg were now living. Exhausted as they all were, Fraser sent Ray and Francesca to the hotel alone. The town seemed peaceful and small, but as he neared, he felt uneasy. It was late and the vibrant reds and blues of the sky were quickly turning to blackness dotted with stars.

Having seen the jail as they passed through town before the stagecoach stopped, Fraser watched his travel companions enter the hotel before he headed straight there.

As soon as he entered, he saw a man behind his desk sitting up. "Can I help you?"

Fraser held out his hand. "I'm Marshall Fraser."

The man took his hand and shook it tentatively.   "I'm Deputy Smith," he replied.   "Still doesn't tell me what I can do for you."

"Are you holding a man by the name of Stanley Kowalski?"

Smith nodded. "Sure am. You want to see him?"

"Yes, if I could," Fraser replied.

"Sure," the deputy said, then led him through a doorway. On the other side were several jail cells, but only one was in use.

As he stepped through the entrance, he saw Stanley standing against the bars. "Fraze?" he asked, surprised. "I really didn't think that was your voice!" he added. Looking past him, he shifted. "You come alone?"

"Francesca and Ray are checking in at the hotel.   I was anxious to come see you," he said.

Stan nodded toward the deputy who then went back into the front area and sat at the desk. Fraser stepped up to the bars. "Would you please explain what's going on?"

Stan shook his head, then looked up with a furrowed brow. "How did you know about this?"

"Meg wrote to me," he explained.   "She said that you were arrested for killing some men, but that you didn't do it."

"She shouldn't have done that," he breathed.

"I'm glad she did," Fraser said.   "It sounds like she's tried everything and maybe you need some help."

Stan looked away. "There was no reason for her to write or for you to come.   I did it," he said, then stepped away from the bars. "I killed those men."   He cleared his throat.   "Wasted your time coming out here."

Confused, Fraser tugged on his ear.   "Why would Meg have written if there was no reason?" he asked.

Turning to look at his bed, then turning back to Fraser, Stan shifted. "She thinks she's helping."

"Why would she think that?"

"Because she thinks I'm protecting her," he replied.   "Look, Fraze, you're getting yourself in a lot of trouble here. You're better off to let it go."

Fraser cocked his head. "If you did murder those men, how would being in here be protection to her?"

Stan paced and shook his head for some time before he turned to Fraser. "What exactly did Meg tell you in her letter?"

Fraser reached into his pocket and passed the letter to Stan. Waiting as the man read it, he chuckled at the end and shook his head. "She took my name," he said as he folded it and handed it with the envelope back to Fraser.

"What do you mean?"

Stan let out a breath. "I left Gochick because it was too painful.   I saw you and Francesca making eyes at each other.   I saw the two of you kissing one night." He looked away.   "I guess since she came here with the both of you that things haven't changed much?"

"Francesca and I were married three months ago," Fraser informed him.

Stan nodded slowly. "Well, I saw it coming. She was a better match for you than me anyway. Besides, Ray hated me. He blamed me for the whole thing and the truth is, I didn't want much to do with that anymore. Something was wrong with my life in Gochick and I just couldn't seem to make it work."

"So you and Meg picked up and left," Fraser filled in.

Stan shook his head. "No. Is that what you think?"

"You both left without a word before sunrise," Benton replied.

"Huh," he responded, looking at the floorboards.   "I didn't realize she left the same day." He shook away the cobwebs forming in his mind then looked at Fraser. "No, Meg left because she wanted a new life for herself.   She never really said why. After she told me she liked things the way they were, I expected her to stay in Gochick forever." He shuffled his feet and folded his arms, giving pause for effect.

Fraser held up the letter. "If you two didn't run off together, how do you explain this?"

"About a year ago, I was down south in Creek Pass.   It's a tiny little place, but the train runs through there. One day, I was on the platform waiting with a friend for his mail order bride.   The two of them met up and were talking and I turned around. There was Meg.   Surprised the hell out of me, I tell you." He smiled broadly at the memory. "Well, she looked great and we got to talking. After they loaded the new passengers, she was going to get back on, but while we were talking, I guess she changed her mind. The train left without her." He chuckled.   "Left with her luggage, though," he added.

"Yet, you ended up here?"

"We stayed in Creek a long time.   I think it was there I figured out I was really in love with her," He paused wistfully, then sat on his bed.   "Well, Meg didn't like Creek Pass much.   I can't blame her. I didn't go there for the peace and quiet. It was kind of a rough place. One of her new friends told her Pepper Creek was supposed to be a nice place. I told her I would bring her here if she married me. She agreed and we got married last month. Moved here the day after the wedding." He cocked his head. "Still don't think she loves me, but at least she agreed," he breathed.

"Anyway, we'd only been here a few days and there was trouble. Some men got pretty rowdy and I killed three of them. That's all there is to it. Meg – well, she's a new bride and shouldn't have to deal with a husband on the run so I turned myself in. It's disgraceful, but less disgraceful than if I ran away."

Fraser furrowed his brow in concentration.   "Are you sure you did this?" he asked.

"Why won't you believe me?"

"You told me a detailed account of how you and Meg ended up together, then left out details on the murder. Besides, you know Meg can handle herself with any sort of disgrace.   I just believe perhaps you are covering up for someone."

Stan looked away and Fraser straightened.   "Is it Meg you are covering up for?   Is that how you are protecting her?"

"I told you not to get involved," Stan said.   "Just take your bride and your buddy and go home."

"No," Fraser said firmly. "And don't worry. We'll get this straightened out."

Stan shrugged. "It really doesn't matter," he said.

Fraser left the jail and headed toward the hotel.   It was dark now and too late to pay a visit to Meg, though he wanted to know more and felt she might be more willing to cooperate.

As he stepped from the road, he felt someone brush past him. Turning to look, the dim light from the hotel lit the back of a woman with long, dark, curly hair.   He furrowed his brow.   Something felt familiar, but he couldn't place it. Shrugging off the feeling, he went inside and asked the desk clerk for the room number of his bride.

Hopping quickly up the stairs, he knocked softly on the door. Francesca opened it slowly, then wide when she saw Fraser. "How did it go?" she asked immediately.

Fraser sighed. "I believe the part where he said he and Meg got married is true, but other than that, I don't believe a single word," he said as he closed the door behind himself. "We'll go talk to Meg in the morning."

><><><><><><

In the early morning hours, the sun beat warm on Francesca's toes. She slowly opened her eyes, smiling as she looked at the large strong hand hanging over her.   Following the arm embracing her and turning to her husband, she rolled toward him without waking him.   Placing a soft kiss on his lips, Benton made a murmur and opened his eyes.

"Good morning," he said, and just as quickly as the words fell from his mouth, the room dimmed.

Francesca looked to the window and saw that a large cloud had moved to block the sunlight she'd been enjoying.   Looking back into Benton's smiling expression, she smiled also. "Good morning," she said.

Fraser sat up and rose slowly from the bed as he pulled on his pants. "I think I'll wake Ray so that we can begin our day right after breakfast," he told her.

She sat up, holding the blankets around her.   "Maybe I'll take something to Stan while you're gone."

Benton turned to her and considered it a moment.   "Just be careful," he said.

She scoffed. "What's going to happen while he's eating breakfast?"

He nodded and opened his bag to get a clean shirt.   Walking to the dresser, he poured water into the basin and cleaned his hands and face. "I don't know when we'll be back, but I'll try to be here for dinner.   Is that all right?"

"It will have to be," she replied.   "Maybe I'll do some shopping," she added.

Benton gave her a look and shook his head.   "Just don't spend too much.   I've not allotted too many funds for this trip, just in case," he said. "Besides, anything you buy we have to take home. Remember that."

Looking defeated, Francesca frowned.   "All right, but you take away all my fun," she pouted.

He finished buttoning his shirt and stepped up to her.   Kissing her lightly on the forehead, he knew she was joking, but lifted her chin anyway. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm going to get Ray now. You'll be all right, won't you?"

She nodded. "Of course." Watching him walk from the room, she let out a breath and began to get dressed herself.   The sun peeked out once again while she did so, but by the time she was ready to go, it had clouded over again.

Going down to the dining room, she found Ray and Fraser eating their breakfast. They were almost done, but she joined them anyway. As she neared the table, Ray noticed her first and stood.   Fraser saw her when Ray rose and stood also. "We're almost finished," he said apologetically.

"I thought you'd be gone," Francesca admitted.

"We were discussing our plans," Fraser said.   "It slowed us down."

Francesca nodded and watched at the two men finished eating, then excused themselves as she waited for her food.   As she started to eat, she asked for another order that she could take with her. They obliged and brought it to her warm once she'd finished her meal.

Walking out into the sun, she frowned when another cloud blocked it. Looking into the sky, she could see a storm on the horizon and several clouds leading the way.   Carrying the basket to the jail, she looked at the tall muscular man wearing a sheriff's badge.

"I brought something for Mr. Kowalski," she said smoothly.

He stood, half smiled, and nodded.   "Mind if I look?"

She set the basket before him.   "Just a breakfast."

The man looked through it and closed the top.   "He'll be glad to see that, I think.   The breakfast that comes from Grace isn't exactly tasty." He moved to the door and opened it. Standing aside to let Francesca pass, he watched her step inside.

Stan was sitting on the tiny cot, a tray with grease burned eggs and too dark toast lay untouched on it. When he heard the movement at the door, he stood quickly.   "Frannie," he breathed, looking happy at first, then furrowing his brow. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought breakfast," she said.

He glanced at the tray he already had, then at her basket as the sheriff came in and opened the door long enough for her to pass him the basket.

"You didn't have to," he said as he opened the basket and grinned. "Though this is the best food I've seen in weeks." He sat back on the cot and immediately began eating.

Francesca watched him eat a moment, her hands folded delicately. She walked around the corner created by bars to be closer to where he sat, but he paid little attention to her move.

Stan wasn't sure what to say.   He felt uncomfortable the way she was watching him because he thought she wanted to hear something. Words to say he was over her were too hard to come by.

Cocking her head, Francesca gently rested a hand on a steel bar. "What happened, Stan?" she asked.

He finally made eye contact with her again and stopped chewing. It was a moment before he swallowed what was in his mouth. "That's a really big question," he said.

She nodded. "I know, but start at the beginning."

He dropped the other half of a piece of bacon back into the basket and wiped his hands on his pants as he solemnly shook his head.   "I killed some men. There's not much more to it than that."

"There's a lot more," Francesca said, putting her other hand on another bar. "You wouldn't kill anyone who didn't deserve it. Even then, you would hit them a few times and leave them be.   Murder? I just can't see how."

Stan pursed his lips, looked away, made a number of reactions as he thought about it. He couldn't tell anyone the truth. Perfectly willing to accept the punishment, he'd accepted the story he was telling as the truth. He waved toward the street as he began to speak. "I was out and I heard a ruckus. I went to find out what was going on and there was a fight between a bunch of men. Before it was over, I'd shot and killed three of them." He leaned his head back as rubbed the back of his neck.   "I turned myself in to make things easier on everyone."

"Everyone being Meg?" Francesca asked.

Looking at her again, he nodded.   "Yes," he answered simply.

Francesca looked thoughtful a moment.   She knew she'd broken his heart, always hoping he'd find happiness elsewhere. She half smiled. "Are you happy with her?" she asked.

Stan couldn't answer her a moment, but he finally nodded. "Happy enough," he responded.

"You know, you don't have to say that because of me.   I want you to be happy.   I'm just sorry I couldn't be the one to do it," she told him.

"It's not that," he said, shaking his head.   "Meg is pretty good to me.   She's been a good friend for a long time. I just don't think I can be completely happy."

"Why not?"

"Because she isn't," he breathed.   "Meg didn't want to get married. She certainly didn't want me." He shrugged. "I guess I knew you'd move on and you would be happy so I tried to grasp some of that for me."

Francesca felt so bad, so guilty she wanted to cry.   She swallowed as she watched him stand slowly. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Stan took a quick step to the bars.   "No, don't be," he told her.   "It's me. I know there's love out there, but I can't seem to find it.   You did. You will never understand how happy…" he stopped to search for words, stuttering slightly. "How…how peaceful it makes me to know that you found something better.   It's ok. You just realized we weren't meant to be together before I did."   He touched her hand and smiled.

Francesca let out a breath and stepped back from the bars. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Stan," she said.

Stan chuckled and held out his arms, palms up.   "Here?" he asked.   "I think it's not going to matter much anymore," he added.

Francesca nodded slowly, feeling somber as she realized what was going to happen to him. "Benton will fix things," she said, attempting to give herself hope as much as him. "You'll get out of here."

"Let's imagine for a moment that he does, Frannie.   I'll still have Meg to go home to.   We're still married.   Happy enough.   Really. It's plenty for me," he said, giving her a smile.

><><><><><><

Ray knocked on the door to the little house and heard shuffling.   Fraser cleared his throat and a moment later, Meg opened the door. She seemed surprised, then she smiled. "You came!" she exclaimed.

"Yes," Benton said as they were invited inside.   "We've come to help in any way we can."   He looked at her dress and noticed that her condition had improved considerably. In a respectable gown, he could really see her beauty.

Meg nodded and sat them at a dining table, one of the few seats in the home. She set two tin mugs on the table before turning back to the stove and placing a tall, skinny pot over the flame.

She sat at the table as the coffee warmed and looked at both of them. "How are you?" she asked first.

"We're fine," Ray said. "We didn't come to chit chat."

"Ray," Benton scolded.

Ray rolled his eyes and looked at Meg.   "You want to fill us in?"

"After I left Gochick, I worked in a couple of different towns. I kept moving west because the men were more generous with their money and every time I moved, I could improve my status because no one knew who I was. In no time, I was a teacher instead of a whore," she said plainly, giving Ray a small scowl as she knew he'd disapprove.  

"I had been offered a job in a growing community, but when I got off the train in Creek Pass, there was Stan.   He looked horrible. Maybe I felt a little sorry for him, but I stayed." She smiled at a memory. "Well, we lived in sin for quite some time, but he kept asking me to marry him.   I told him Creek Pass was too rough for me and he told me if I married him, he'd take me away."

Benton cleared his throat and she looked at him.   "Stan told me about that part," he said, then cocked his head. "Do you love him?"

Meg looked surprised. "Love? I'm not sure you have to be in love to get married."

"No," Benton said. "It isn't necessary, but it helps."

She shrugged. "I know I love what he's done for me since then."

Fraser furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I killed them," she announced.   "I was in town shopping and a group of men hustled me into the alley. I pulled out my gun and when I shot at them, most of them ran away. It was very confusing, but when it cleared, three of them were dead and Stan came around the corner. He saw that I was the one in trouble, the one who had fired the shots and he told me to go.   He told me to come home.   I guess that's when he turned himself in for it because I didn't hear from him again until I went into town looking and heard he'd been arrested."

Ray looked surprised, but was speechless.   He watched Meg as she rose slowly, went to the stove, and brought the pot over to pour coffee into the two mugs.   She placed one mug before each of them, then sat again. "So you see, he didn't do it and I know for a fact he didn't."

Fraser cleared his throat. "Did you try telling someone?"

"Yes," she insisted. "They don't want to arrest a woman. Everyone would be happier to see him hanged than to hear anything else.   Besides, there was a witness who claimed she saw Stan fire the shots. The men who got away aren't saying anything, one way or the other."

"A witness? Perhaps we should talk to her," Benton breathed. "What's her name?" he asked.

"Victoria Metcalf. She's been living at the lady's house in town, Rose's."

Ray coughed and put a hand over his mouth.   "Excuse me. I must have swallowed the coffee wrong," he excused as Benton made a note of the name in his mind.

Benton sipped his coffee and set it back on the table.   He could see how it would cause a slight choke. It tasted terrible.   "You said it was confusing, but can you give more details?"

Meg took in a thoughtful breath.   "Well, I suppose I could. What do you want to know?"

"Anything you can think of."

"Stan and I had gone to town together.   He was going to buy me a new pistol because mine had backfired so he gave me his gun. He went down to Fen's shop to buy them because his quality is better. While he went to buy the pistol and a new hunting knife, I went to the general store and picked up some eggs and flour. I had just come out and was headed toward Fen's when the men came out of nowhere.   There were six or seven and as they pushed me into the alley, I dropped the flour and eggs. One of them pushed me against the wall, but I still managed to get the gun out of my bag. When they saw the gun, they backed off a little, but then one of them tried to grab the gun so I fired.   I swear the gun went off into the air, but he fell down and was dead.

"Then a couple of them ran. The ones left tried to grab for me again and I fired.   The smoke from the gun got in my eyes so I closed them and just kept shooting until the bullets were gone.   When I opened my eyes, another one had run off, I think, and three were laying there dead.   I looked up and saw Stan running toward me.   He grabbed me and held me a second before he told me to run. He took the gun from me before I left." She paused a moment. "That's really all I can tell you."

"What about the men who got away.   Has anyone spoken with them?" Fraser asked.

"No one knew them. They must have been drifters. Apparently the ones who lived left town before anyone could talk to them."

Fraser nodded, making mental notes, but Ray shifted in his seat. "You ever met this Victoria before?"

Meg regarded Ray with distrust a moment.   "Why do you ask?"

Ray shrugged. "I don't know. I thought perhaps you could tell us about her."

Meg looked at Benton. "I did know her once a few years ago. There's nothing to tell about her. She and I just worked in the same saloon once upon a time."

"An odd coincidence that she'd be here, isn't it?" Ray asked.

Meg shrugged. "I met Stan at a train station in Creek Pass."

"Point taken," Ray observed, then turned to Fraser.   "Well, he's willing to take the fall for his wife, maybe we should let him. Perhaps we shouldn't interfere."

"How can you say that?" Meg snapped.   "He didn't do it; he shouldn't die."

"Would you rather go to jail, Meg?   Do you want us to arrest you for the murders and let him go?"

She squirmed, then shook her head.   "They wouldn't listen anyway." Looking pleadingly into Ben's eyes, she spoke again.   "I can't let him die for what I did, though. You understand, don't you?"

Fraser nodded. "We'll do what we can," he said and stood.   "Thank you for the coffee."

She showed them to the door and as Fraser mounted the steed they'd gotten at the livery, he turned to Ray. "Something still doesn't add up," Benton said.   "Perhaps if we talk to this Miss Metcalf…"

"You go," Ray said quickly. "I'm ready for lunch."

Benton looked into the sky. "It's a little early," he observed.

"Not enough breakfast," Ray said quickly.   "Look, you handle it on your own.   I want to see some of this place before we leave. Maybe I'll take Frannie out for a walk."

Benton tugged on his ear in thought and started forward. "Are you sure?   I thought you would assist me."

"I'll assist if you need me," Ray responded.   "I just don't think you need me."   He paused. "Maybe you can talk to the coroner or the doctor in town first.   Might want to know something about the men she killed before we start asking questions to witnesses."

Fraser nodded pensively. "I suppose you could be right. Good advice, Ray."

"Thanks. Now, let's get back to town."

><><><><><><

The woman with dark hair and a light complexion stood before her mirror. She read the note that had been passed to her from the house marm one more time before tucking it into the neckline of her gown. She stared at her reflection in the looking glass and turned a curl to lie more perfectly.   Pinching at her cheeks, she opened the door to her tiny room and made her way down the hall toward the stairs.

As she descended, she passed another tenant and nodded.   Reaching the landing, Rose looked at her. "Victoria.   Are you going out?"

"Yes, ma'am," she said politely.   "I have some things to do."

"Would you like someone to go with you?" the woman asked. "I'm certain we could find someone to accompany you."

"No need. It's a beautiful day and I'm just going for a very short walk."   She paused. "I believe I'll stop for lunch and come right back.   Shouldn't be more than an hour."

"All right," Rose said. "If you're sure."

Victoria smiled. "I'm sure."

She stepped onto the street and glanced around.   She saw many familiar faces, but none she wanted to avoid. Slowly she walked along the walk and stopped before the jail. Glancing inside, she could see the sheriff.   Turning her back, she carefully crossed the road.

A moment later, she stopped before her destination.   Walking inside, she ascended the stairs without a word. She only passed a couple of doors before she reached the one she wanted.   Knocking softly, she waited.

She heard quiet commotion, but the door did not open.   She waited, fearing that she'd be seen.   As she knocked again, the door opened.   She looked into the eyes before her and smiled. "I came, just like you asked," she said, stepping into the room and closing the door.

><><><><><><

Fraser stood in the office of the town doctor and looked around at the numerous bottles and instruments.   He could see blood on the floor that someone had attempted to clean, but it had seeped deep into the wood. A moment later, the tall, blonde man stepped from the back room.   "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come in."

"Marshall Benton Fraser," he said.   "I'm the Marshall from Gochick Canyon, but I came here to help out a friend."

"Mr. Kowalski, I presume? I seem to recall someone saying he came from Gochick."   He paused and removed the tiny spectacles. "Renfield Turnbull," he said politely. "I am the doctor here, but we have no coroner so I handle deaths."

"We have the same system in Gochick," Fraser said.   "I wonder what you might be able to tell me about the victims."

"Well, I took some notes on the condition of the bodies, but they've been buried now."

Fraser nodded. "And what can you tell me?"

"They were shot," he said plainly.   "Shot several times."

Fraser furrowed his brow in concentration.   "Nothing more you can tell me?   Perhaps there was gunpowder around the wounds? Did you remove the bullets?"

"No, I didn't," the doctor informed him.   "Gunpowder?"   He paused. "Yes, surrounding some of the wounds I noticed a blackened area."

"And how many times were each of them shot?" Fraser asked, now wondering about the fact that they'd been shot several times.   Stan's gun was a revolver with six brief rounds. That should average two bullets each, but the man had said several.

Turnbull turned to a dresser and picked up a piece of paper. Staring at it intently, he frowned. "Sawyer had three.   One in the leg, one in the stomach and one through the heart. Galvin had two.   One was through his shoulder, but the fatal shot was in his chest. Then Yancy had four. Two were in the arms, one in the leg, and the last in the head."

Fraser raised his eyebrows and counted.   "You didn't notice if the bullets came from different guns did you? Perhaps some of the wounds were of a different size?"

"There was a lot of blood. I had to clean them up just to figure out how many bullet wounds there were." Turnbull cocked his head.   "Is that important?"

"Perhaps you can tell me more about the gunpowder.   You said it was only around some of the wounds. Which wounds?"   Fraser asked anxiously.

"I'm not sure I could specify."   He paused. "I know it was around most of the wounds."

"Was it around the fatal shots?   Did you specifically notice gunpowder around the chest wounds or the head wound?"

Turnbull considered it a moment, then shook his head.   "I don't believe so.   I'm sure with all the excess blood, any residue may have been covered by the blood."

Fraser nodded. "Thank you, doctor," he breathed.

><><><><><><

Her hair spread around the pillow in perfect beauty as Victoria put her arm behind her head. She smiled contentedly, turning her head to face the naked man beside her. "I was afraid we'd lose something by being apart for such a long time."

He smiled and touched her face gently.   "I never thought I'd see you again."   He studied her pale, soft skin and leaned over her, kissing her as he'd been doing for the past hour.   He breathed her in deeply, then looked into her beautiful dark eyes again. "I'm glad you were here."

"It wasn't coincidence," she said softly.   "When I found out that Meg was running around with the very same Stanley Kowalski you despised, I saw an opportunity. I seized the moment.   Somehow I knew they'd go to that do-gooder boss of yours for help and I rather hoped you would come too."

"This was all your doing?" Ray asked.

She nodded. "I've taken care of everything," Victoria told him. "He'll be hanged inside of a month and Meg's life will be sufficiently destroyed."

Ray considered what she'd said.   He'd never wanted Stan's life to end, just for him to hurt the way he'd hurt his sister. Wondering if he should stop the things she'd put into motion, he had to ask himself if this wasn't the best thing for everyone.

Feeling the power of having that one piece of information that could condemn Stan or set him free, Ray felt charged.   He leaned over Victoria and kissed her again, running his hand beneath the blanket and feeling her hand on his flesh as she embraced him again.

Minutes late, Ray's body was moving slowly over Victoria's when there was a knock at the door. Ray froze and looked into her eyes, wondering if he'd thought to lock the door. Was it better to answer with the blanket around him or to pretend he wasn't there?   Swallowing, he glanced at the door, then back to the woman beneath him. There was a tapping at the door again and he bit the inside of his lip, holding a finger over her mouth to make sure she remained silent.

"Ray? It's Benton…" said the voice connected to the hand that knocked on the door again.

Ray shook his head. Would Benton come in? He knew he hadn't locked the door, despite the part of him that wondered and hoped.   There was one last knock, then he heard footsteps which quickly dissipated. Letting out a relieved breath, he relaxed.   A moment later, the door to the room beside them opened and closed. While he couldn't hear the footsteps, he could hear talking. Francesca's voice didn't carry as well as Benton's, but it didn't matter. He could only tell that they were talking, not what they were saying.

Ray moved to climb from the bed, but Victoria but her hands on his sides. "He's gone," she said softly.

"I know," he responded. "He's still looking for me, though. I should go find him before he comes back."

She shook her head. "Don't leave me," she told him, more command than pleading in her tone.

Bending over her for another long kiss, Ray then climbed out of the bed. "I'm sorry," he said.

There was another knock and he frowned at Victoria.   "That was quick," he mouthed nearly silently.

"Ray?" Benton stared at the doorknob. Francesca had distinctly heard Ray in his room, and she thought she'd heard a visitor.   Shortly after, she'd heard Ray discussing something, so she knew he was there. The conversation had ended, she'd told Ben, but neither of them had left the room.

Fraser pondered. Could the noises Francesca described from the room have been a struggle? Was Ray lying injured in the room? Opening the door without invitation would not be appropriate, but there was now no sound at all from the room and Francesca was certain no one had left.

Placing his hand slowly on the doorknob, he had to make a decision. "Ray?" he said again, but still there was no answer. He began to turn the knob.

"Damn!" Ray yelped as he jumped and threw his body against the door. "I'm busy, Fraser," he announced suddenly.

"I didn't hear anything. I thought perhaps something was wrong," Benton explained.

"No, no. I'm just very very busy," he said quickly as he looked wide-eyed at Victoria.

"Francesca thought she heard a struggle.   You weren't injured were you?" Fraser asked.

Victoria stifled a laugh, but the noise escaped and Ray reacted with a threatening "Shush!"

"Ray?"

"What!?" he snapped.

"Is someone in there with you?"

"No," Ray said quickly, now wishing he'd had time to dress before Benton returned so he could at least go in the hall and distract the Marshall from his questions.

"I thought I heard…"

"That was me. I stubbed my toe."

"While holding the door closed?" Benton asked.   "Is there some reason you are being secretive?"

Ray let out a breath. "Yes, but if I told you why, then it wouldn't be secretive anymore.   Look, I'll be done here in a few minutes and then I'll come over to your room, all right?"

There was a long pause. "All right," Benton finally relented. "You're sure everything is all right?"

"Yes," Ray snapped. "Just go." He waited to hear footsteps before stepping away from the door. Looking at Victoria as he hurriedly dressed, he glared.   "You are trouble," he said.

She smiled. "I thought that's what you loved about me."

Ray gave her a sly grin while pulling on his shirt, then stepped back to the bed for another long kiss. Before it was finished, he'd rested one knee on the edge and was moaning into her mouth. Finally, he moved away and shook his head. "You'd better go home. Fraser will be wanting to come by and ask some questions about the murder." He paused, his hands stopping on the buttons to his pants as he considered. "What are you going to tell him?"

"Same thing I told the sheriff," she responded and wrapped a blanket around herself as she got out of the bed.   Taking a step toward him, she moved her fingers under his shirt and ran them along his stomach. "I watched Stan shoot three men. He killed them in cold blood for no apparent reason." She smiled.

"What about Meg? I mean, they were attacking her."

Victoria cocked her head. "I didn't see Meg anywhere. Maybe it's just the way I was standing, but all I saw was Stan."

Ray studied her a moment. "Why are you doing it?" he asked.

"I'm ruining their lives," she said plainly.

"But if it's Meg you want to destroy, why not let her take the blame?"

"If I let that happen, she'll claim that she was only trying to save her own hide and no one will blame her.   If I let Stan take it, then he dies and she ends up a lonely widow who's husband was a criminal. It will scar her reputation." She looked at him coyly, not telling him the ending to her plan.   "Besides, it works out perfectly.   Stan gets what he deserved for what he did to your sister."

Ray shook his head. "I'm not sure I really wanted him to suffer."

Victoria took a step back, looking annoyed.   "You said you did," she informed him firmly. "You said he deserved to die for the disgrace he brought her."

"Yeah, but Francesca is married now – and happy – and no one blames her for what he did."

"Maybe because she was the one who broke things off and drove him to it, did you ever consider that?" Victoria asked, then realized she might lose control of the situation with that remark.   Softening her expression, she sighed.   "It doesn't matter now anyway. If I change my story, then it's me who will be ruined."   She paused to step toward him and kiss him gently. "You wouldn't want that, would you?" she asked as she stepped away from him.

He shook his head and finished buttoning his pants.   "I…I should hurry," he stuttered.   "Benton will wonder…"

She smiled at his answer as well as the state she'd put him in. Dropping the blanket, then, she leaned over to pick up her clothes. Ray watched her a moment, then cleared his throat and ran his hands over what was left of his hair before hurrying from the room.

><><><><><><

Fraser knocked firmly on the door to Rose's boarding house. An older woman wearing small glasses opened the door slowly. She looked over Benton's appearance, then observed Ray's presence.   "Ah, you're back again and you've brought someone," she observed.

"Yes, ma'am," Fraser greeted.   "This is Ray Vecchio. Has Miss Metcalf returned?" he asked.

"Why, yes," the older woman said.   "I'll send Maria up to get her right away."   Turning from the door, she nodded at a brunette who had been doing stitching just beyond the entrance.  "Maria, would you please tell Victoria that a Mr. Fraser and his companion, Mr. Vecchio would like to talk to her?"

"Yes, Rose," the young woman said as she stood quickly, laid her stitching on the seat, and moved swiftly up the stairs.

Rose turned back to the men.   "There isn't a problem, is there?"

"No, ma'am," Fraser said politely.   "We just wanted to ask her a few questions."

"About the murder?" the woman asked, then quickly spoke more. "I can't imagine why.    She told the sheriff everything she knows and it's such an upsetting subject." She stepped back from the door, waving her arm to invite them in.

"I'm sure it is, ma'am," Benton acknowledged.

"Well, you may come in and wait for her in the parlor," Rose offered, then guided them to the open corner of the main floor which presumably served as the visiting area. "If she wants to see you, she'll be down soon."

"Thank you, kindly," Benton said.

"Yeah, thanks," Ray said as he looked at the furniture in the room. It was all mauves and blues with oak accents. A carved wood table separated two mauve chairs while a third blue one rested against the other wall. There were pictures and a flower arrangement on the little table and as Ray seated himself, he glanced at the small paintings in silver picture frames.

Benton remained standing until he saw the dark haired woman begin to descend the stairs. Furrowing his brow, he turned to Ray. "She looks familiar," he said.

Ray stood and looked at her.   "I'm sure you're mistaken."

Turning to glance at her again, he watched Ray as Ray watched her near them. "No, I'm certain I saw her in Gochick several months ago."

Victoria stopped before the two men and smiled courteously. She looked at Benton, then nodded at Ray. "Good to see you again," she said, winking.

Fraser looked at Ray before resting his eyes on her again. "So you have met?"

Ray cleared his throat and tried to look as though something had just dawned on him. "Right, you were in Gochick about a year ago, weren't you?"

She raised one eyebrow, but played along.   "Yes. We met a couple of times, but I don't believe I had the pleasure of meeting the Marshall in person."

Fraser held out his hand. "No, we didn't have the opportunity. Benton Fraser."

She took it so lightly he almost didn't believe he had her hand in his at all. "Victoria Metcalf," she said softly, then turned to Ray. "How have you been, Ray?"

Fraser observed the mannerisms between the two and made a mental note. There was obviously more than Ray was letting on. Why hadn't he mentioned knowing her when Meg told him about her?

"I've been well," Ray responded coldly.   "We came to ask you some questions," he said, wanting to finish this before things got too complicated.

She nodded. "About the murder, I suppose," she responded. "I've spoken with the sheriff."

"We understand it's a difficult subject, ma'am," Fraser said.

She waved her hand. "Difficult, yes, but I will do what I must to see justice done," she said confidently, giving Ray a look out of the corner of her eye.   Moving to the blue chair, she lowered herself gently and waved them to the other seats.   Ray sat first, but as Benton sat, he didn't take his eyes off Victoria. "Miss Metcalf, would you mind recounting the events as you saw them?"

She looked at him a moment, then glanced at Ray.   "I had just stopped by the general store to pick up some fabric. Maria offered to mend a dress for me, so I needed something very specific.   When I came out onto the street, I saw Stan follow a group of men into the alley. The men didn't seem aware of his presence and appeared to be taking a shortcut to the livery." She paused. "They certainly weren't up to trouble as he has suggested."

Fraser cocked his head. "That isn't important. I'm only concerned with what you saw."

"Well, Stan followed them and I was curious so I walked to the corner and watched them. I stayed out of sight and I heard Stan say that he didn't have the money he owed them, then he pulled out a gun and began to fire. Most of the men ran, but three were killed immediately.   At that, I hurried to the sheriff's and told him I'd seen Stan shooting the men. He told me to wait there, but I was curious so I followed him back to the alley where Stan was holding the gun and told the sheriff himself that he'd shot the men. I was astounded!"

"I can imagine you were," Ray said, a little dryly.

"What about Mrs. Kowalski. Did you see her?"

Victoria shook her head emphatically.   "I heard that she tried to tell the sheriff she was there, but she wasn't. I'm certain I would have seen her."

Fraser nodded. "You know the Kowalski's?" he asked.

She looked at Ray for guidance on that question, then shook her head. "No."   Ray swallowed and looked away.   She quickly held up a hand.   "Well, not very well.   We'd met before, I believe," she added quickly. "I don't think we were properly introduced."

"You didn't know Meg?" Fraser asked.

Victoria stiffened a bit and watched Ray give the slightest of nods. "Well, yes.   I knew her quite some time ago."   She bit her lower lip and looked away.   "It was a painful time in my life.   I have tried hard to forget," she said and lifted a crooked finger to her nose as she bowed her head.

"I'm sorry," Fraser said quietly.   "I just want to be certain we have all the information."

Victoria sniffed delicately, keeping her head down.   "I can't see what it has to do with anything. I told you exactly what I saw, and whether or not Meg and I have met in the past is of no concern."

Fraser glanced at Ray, nodding slightly.   So far the information Victoria gave was what Meg had expected. He paused and thought of what he'd learned at the doctor's. "Did you see anyone else?"

"No," she said. "There was no one else around."

"Are you certain?" he pried.   "You didn't notice anything else out of the ordinary?   Perhaps someone who had been watching, then disappeared? Was your view of the alley clear?"

"Yes, it was clear. There was no one," she insisted, then moved to stand.   The men stood quickly also.   "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm exhausted."   She lifted her eyes to Ray.   "I've had quite a day.   Perhaps I can show you to the door."

Not sure how to respond, Fraser started toward the exit. "Maybe we can discuss it more later – after you've rested."

"Of course," she said and followed them to the door.   As soon as Benton stepped out, she half closed the door and looked at Ray. "So we don't know each other well, is that the way you want to play?" she asked softly.

Ray didn't know what to say.   He looked at her a moment before speaking.   "You could marry me," he said quickly.

"You know I'm not the kind," she said.   "We've been over that."   She turned her head.   "You could have warned me about the questions and how to answer them."

He shrugged. "I didn't know," he whispered softly as he took the door from her and opened it again. Fraser gave him a strange look, but Ray shook his head. "It was nothing," he said quickly and pulled the door closed behind himself.

Fraser and Ray walked side by side along the side of the road. Ray looked at the ground a moment before saying anything. "Did you talk to the coroner?" he asked.

"Yes," Fraser responded. "It appears the total shots fired numbered at least nine."   He glanced at Ray.   "Stan's gun only held six rounds.   Someone else was in that alley, someone who was a better shot than Meg and someone who likely fired the fatal rounds."

><><><><><><

Stan sat on the lonely cot and stared at a spider making its way across the floor. It was the most excitement he'd had in over an hour, but he didn't complain.    The spider moved to the wall and tried to climb. After making it several feet, it fell, then started up again. Stan's mind was numb, but he rooted for the spider.

He heard voices outside of the room and looked up.   A moment later, he saw Meg.   Standing quickly, he hurried to the bars and put his hands around two of them.

Meg smiled meekly. "How are you, Stan?" she asked formally.

"I'm ok," he said, then leaned his face against a bar and tried to reach out to her. "Come closer," he requested.

She took one tentative step and paused before she took another. His rough hand touched her cheek and he smiled. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Nodding, Meg stepped back out of reach again.   Stan slid his arm back inside his cage and let his arm fall to his side. "I was beginning to think I wouldn't see you ever again."

Meg solemnly let out a breath.   "I'm sorry I haven't come to see you in here yet," she apologized.

It was uncomfortably quiet a moment before he straightened. "Why didn't you?" he asked.

She looked away, chewing at her lower lip.   "I guess I didn't know what to say."   Lifting her head slowly, she made eye contact and shook her head. "I tried to tell them it was my fault, but they won't listen."

"Don't tell them that," he said.   "I don't want you to take the blame for this."

"Why not?" she asked suddenly.

He had to think about it a moment, though deep down he knew the answer. "Because I love you," he said softly.

She looked upset by the comment.   "Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Why do you love me, Stan? I've never given you any reason and I've never returned it.   Why do you love me?"

He reached out, but knew he wouldn't be able to touch her. Even beneath the covers on a cold night, her cool flesh warming against him he hadn't been able to touch her heart. Bringing the hand back inside the cage, he rubbed his forehead. "Because you were my friend when no one else wanted my friendship."

"A friend, yes. You were my friend, too. It's not love, what we have. It's an illusion."

Looking her sternly in the eye, his nostrils flared a moment. "Are you sure?"

She wasn't and she knew it, but she wouldn't tell him that. Instead she turned.   "I should go."

"Please, don't," he stopped her.

Turning to look at him again, he could see that her eyes were moist. "I can't see you in here." She turned away again.   "Maybe I'll see you again," she added as she left.

Stan leaned against the bars for so long, he had no idea if it had been a few minutes or a few hours when someone else entered.   Straightening from his slouch, he watched Fraser and Ray come into the room. Fraser saw the red marks on Stan's face where he'd been leaning.   "Is everything all right?" he asked.

Stan sniffed and turned away.   "Yeah," he said quickly. "What did you guys find out?"

"We need to know who else was in that alley," Ray said immediately to keep things from getting emotional.

"Who else?" Stan asked, his face now more curious than somber. "It was me and Meg and a few men."

"Did you have a gun?"

"Yes," he said. "I had my revolver."

"Meg told us you gave her your revolver," Ray said.   "Did you have another one?"

Stan looked away. "She told you that?"

"Yes," Fraser said. "Did you have any other weapons?"

"No," Stan admitted. "She had my only gun."

"There were at least nine shots fired," Fraser informed him. "Someone else fired shots as well."

Stan furrowed his brow. "It was just us. I didn't see anyone else." He paused.   "Are you sure?"

"The three corpses had wounds totaling nine shots.   Did you hear more shots fired than the six from the revolver?"

Stan looked like he was about to answer, then stopped himself.

Ray moved closer to the bars.   "If you're afraid of saying something that might put you or Meg in danger, remember, it's just between us," he said, though he knew that Fraser was the only one willing to back up that remark.

Stan let out a breath. "There was so much confusion. The last thing I was doing was counting shots.   Meg was in trouble and that's all that mattered."

"Is there anyone who would benefit from seeing you or Meg in jail? Anyone else who may have wanted those men dead?" Fraser inquired.

Stan shrugged. "I don't know. I told you we just got to town when everything happened. I tried to ask around, to get the names of the dead guys, but no one knew them," he stated. "If there was someone who wanted them dead, I'm not the guy to ask. Meg, well, you know her. She's harmless - and me? I don't know anyone."

"Miss Metcalf said she heard you arguing with the men about money." Fraser looked to Stan for answers.

Stan had none. "I never talked to those guys. Miss Metcalf? They said she saw me shooting the men. Worked for my case," he explained.

"Yes, but we've talked to Meg and know that what you are claiming isn't the truth."

"Meg won't go to jail. She won't be held accountable for this," Stan insisted.

"She shouldn't be, and neither should you," Fraser said. "The fatal shots were fired from a distance. Whatever shots Meg may have fired would have caused little more than inconvenience."

"Really?" Stan asked, then shook his head. "Then what am I doing in here?" he asked, subdued

"That's what we'd like to know," Fraser interjected, interrupting Stan's thoughts. "Someone else was there, someone with very good aim and someone who wanted them dead or wanted you or Meg in jail."

"Did that Metcalf woman say if she saw anyone else?" Stan asked.

"No," Ray said quickly. "Which is why I lean toward the theory that you had another gun or perhaps one of the men who ran away killed the three before he was gone."

"If that were true, there would have been more close-range wounds," Fraser said. "No, it had to be someone who stood several feet away."

Stan grunted. "I don't know who," he insisted. "I can't imagine." He paused.   "Miss Metcalf was there.   She must have the answers."

"She doesn't," Ray said quickly.   "We've spoken with her. You know the answers."

"I don't!" Stan insisted.

Fraser saw that Ray was getting angry so he spoke quickly. "It's all right, Stan.   You just think about it.   We'll go back to Miss Metcalf's and ask her more questions later. Meanwhile, maybe we can talk to Meg."

"Don't," Stan said quickly. The thought of her brought back the conversation he'd just had.   It had been too painful for him and he didn't care to put himself back into the situation.

Fraser looked confused. "Don't? Don't talk to Meg?"

Stan nodded. "She's been through enough."

"But she might know who…"

"She's been through enough!" Stan snapped.   "Just leave her alone."

Now, both Ray and Fraser looked confused.   "Did something happen?" Ray asked.

Stan looked away. "Nothing," he said softly and lowered himself to sit on the cot.

Fraser moved around the bars until he was closer to the bed. "Stan?"

"Nothing," he insisted shaking his head.   "I just don't think she can tell you anything more than I have and I don't want you bothering her, all right?"

"We can't find the answers without help," Fraser insisted.

Stan shrugged. "Then don't. It doesn't really matter anyway."

"What do you mean?" Ray asked.   "Why doesn't it?"

Looking at Ray a moment before turning his gaze to Fraser, Stan looked as upset as he had when they came in.   "If you get me out of here, what is there for me?   I don't think I could go back to her now anyway. It's better off if I hang for this crime and let her go on."

"There you go," Ray sneered.   "Don't you ever consider the reputations of those you leave behind? Meg would be the widow of a murderer, Stan. Or hadn't you thought of that?"

"Better than being divorced," Stan said.   "She can move and start over with everything I've got. It's better that way," he insisted.


Ray scoffed and turned. "You never change," he said as he left.

Fraser stayed. He looked at Stan. "Things aren't over between you and Meg. You can still work things out after we get you out of here."

"She doesn't want that," Stan explained.   "I mean, if I go back there, it'll be the same as it has been and I haven't been able to make her happy.   I think she'd be happier with a new beginning."

Fraser shook his head. "I'm talking to Meg whether you want me to or not.   I'll get to the bottom of this and you can let Meg decide if she wants you to go. Don't make that choice for her."

Stan looked at Fraser, taking in what the man had said.   He looked away again.   Maybe he was right.   "When you talk to her, tell her I want to see her again. Tell her I want to talk to her, all right?"

><><><><><><

Ray and Fraser moved to the entrance to the Kowalski's and tapped on the door. They could hear movement, then a moment of silence before a soft voice came through the door. "Just a moment," Meg said, then they heard more rustling.

Several moments later, she opened the door.   Immediately Fraser could see that the delay had been her chance to make herself presentable after obviously sobbing.   Her eyes had an odd glow, but she was composed as she let them in.

Offering coffee, Ray accepted another cup.   He sipped on it slowly.

Fraser declined and watched Meg sit at the table.   "When you told us that you had shot the men, you didn't tell us if you heard other shots," he began.

"Other shots?" Meg asked, puzzled.

"When I asked the doctor about the victims, I learned that there were more wounds than bullets in your weapon.   Did Stan have a weapon or did someone else fire?"

Meg paused, looking very serious as she considered.   "We only had one gun between us and I had it at the time. Even if he picked up a pistol for me at Fen's, I don't think he had a chance to use it.   They were gone before he got there."

Fraser let out a breath. "Is there any reason you know of that Victoria Metcalf might lie?" he asked.

Ray snapped his attentions to Fraser, concerned.

Meg looked at the table, the coffeepot, then Fraser.   "Why do you ask?"

Fraser tilted his head and slightly squinted his eyes.   "She told us she saw Stan shoot the men and didn't see you in the alley at all."

Meg closed her eyes, gritting her teeth before she shook her head. "It's a lie," she stated, then let out a breath.

"Why would she lie?" Ray asked.

Looking at the coffeepot, she spoke.   "Are you sure you don't want come coffee, Marshall?"

"I'm certain," Benton replied.   "Why would she lie?"

"I can't be sure," Meg said.   "Maybe Miss Metcalf has gone a little crazy," she added with a sneer.

"Maybe you know her better than you're saying," Ray said, standing.

"When I knew Victoria Metcalf she was a manipulative sneak. Something tells me times haven't changed," she snapped.

He didn't want to hear more insults from Meg, so he turned to the door. "I'm getting some fresh air," he announced as he left.

Fraser seemed concerned by Ray's behaviour, but knew now wasn't the time to deal with it. Instead, he turned back to Meg. "Miss Metcalf doesn't seem crazy or manipulative," he stated.   Immediately recognizing that the comment had irritated Meg, he leaned back a little, trying to giver her the feeling of freedom and space. "I simply want to get all the facts so that I know how to help."

"Victoria Metcalf wants to see my life destroyed so that she can have it."

Benton looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Meg glanced at the table, clasping her hands together.   "I suppose I have to tell you everything." She took in a deep breath, trying to avoid the sordid story, but knew it had to come out.   "When we met in Montgomery, I wasn't working in a saloon. I was a teacher.   I told you that I was working in a saloon because I didn't want to explain how I came to be doing that in Gochick.   Victoria was serving food at a little place there and we got along because we were both orphans, that part is true.   One day I found out that I had family left. My uncle lives in Boston and is quite well off. Hearing that my mother had passed and left me an orphan a few years before, he sent a letter of inquiry, then paid passage for myself and a companion to go to Boston and meet him.

"Victoria was the only person I really knew there and she agreed to accompany me. It was a long trip and when we arrived in Boston, she seemed struck by the lifestyle.   I enjoyed my life the way it was so I had no intention of staying. Victoria was bothered by this and tried to convince me to stay.

"I learned from my uncle that we had more family in England; that he was ill and wanted to leave his estate to me, but if I didn't want it, he'd send for a cousin in London. I told him I would think about it, but I wanted to return home.   He gave me some money, a pocket watch that had belonged to my father, and my grandmother's wedding ring.   He told me the money was to remind me what I'd have and the personal effects would remind me that I had family.

"When Victoria and I got back, she stole my money, the watch, and the ring. I was left with nothing once again. I tried to find her for quite some time, and when I did, she was using my name.   I learned she'd written my uncle to tell him where she was so that upon his death, she could take his estate as her own. I tried to stop her, but she disappeared.

"I never heard from my uncle, but perhaps she has.   I know she wants me to give up on finding her so that she can claim the estate." She paused. "I suppose getting Stan arrested would make me a widow to a criminal so if I tried to reclaim my own family, no one would believe I was anything more than a confidence trickster."

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Ben asked.

She lowered her head. "I thought I could handle her myself. I didn't think she'd go this far. I expected her to hurt only me." Looking to Ben with a pleading expression, she watched his reaction.

"Have you told me everything now?"

"I believe so," she said. "I didn't care much about my uncle's estate and she knows it.   I didn't care that much about the money, but the watch and the ring - it began to have a sentimental value."   She looked away.   "I have my own life. I don't need my uncle's, but that's no reason for her to take my identity for her own gain."

Fraser furrowed his brow. "You do have your own life. Stan is a part of it." He stopped to consider how personal he would get, then remembered the pain he saw on his friend's face at the jail. "Do you want him to be?"

Meg looked solemn and stared at Ray's mug.   Lost in thought for several minutes before replying, her tone was soft. "Yes."

"He doesn't think you love him.   Your vague answers on our previous visit indicated the same thing."

Meg blinked and Fraser saw a tear form under one eye.   She wiped it quickly, swallowing and trying to be strong. A moment later she composed herself and clasped her hands together.   "I can't love him. I can't give myself up to that. Love is just an emotion. We shouldn't be ruled by them."

"You can't think that," Fraser said.   He looked at her somber look, then thought of Stan. He took in a long breath and decided to speak what she needed to hear. "Stan is giving up on life because you don't care for him.   After what you just said, I'm inclined to believe that isn't true. If you want to help him, you'll tell him how you feel."

"I can't," she snapped. "You don't understand. I can't do it."

"Why?"

"Because it will hurt too much when he's gone," she breathed, burying her head in her hands.

Fraser reached across and touched her arm.   "You have to be honest with him and you have to be honest with me."

Meg slowly raised her eyes to his.   "I began to sell myself to earn the money to follow Victoria. That's how I ended up a prostitute. After she took everything, I decided to become a whore because I didn't have to love anyone ever again.

"Stan didn't care, though. He loved me anyway and he has shown me proof of that fact often.   You see that Victoria has plenty of reason to hate me. So does Stan, but he won't. No matter what I admit, he doesn't."   She looked to Fraser.   "Why do you suppose that is?"

"Because he loves you as much as you love him."

"Yes," she whispered, looking down at her hands.   "I believe you might be right."

"Tell him so," Fraser coaxed.   He watched her shake her head, then he put his hand on the table before her. "Tell him," he insisted.

She looked at him, but her eyes wouldn't give away whether or not she would.   They looked at each other a moment, challenging his right to insist she do anything before Meg stood and looked at the door. "You'll be able to help him?"

"I hope so," Benton said, standing then.   "I will certainly try."

><><><><><><

Victoria Metcalf looked at Maria who was stitching.   She marveled at the patience until Rose made a move to stand. Victoria looked at the older woman and smiled. "Going somewhere?" she asked.

"I'm going to work on dinner," Rose explained.

Maria jumped to her feet, dropping her stitching.   "I'll help you," she said quickly.

"Thank you, dear," Rose said.

Victoria stood also. "I'm not feeling well," she said softly.   "I think I'll go to my room and rest."   She let out a breath. "Please don't let anyone disturb me this evening," she requested.

Rose nodded. "Certainly, dear," she said. "We'll leave you to the peace and quiet.   If you need anything, you just let me know."

"I will, Rose," Victoria said, then started up the stairs.

A moment later, she turned. Rose and Maria had gone into the kitchen and all was quiet on the main floor again. Victoria quietly made her way back down the stairs. As soundlessly as possible, she opened the front door.   Taking one last check to make sure no one had seen her, she left the house and closed the door.

Hurrying across the street and down to the hotel, she was cautious as she walked in. She watched for anyone she knew, Benton, Ray, even Meg. Quickly she went up the stairs and knocked softly on Ray's door.   There was no answer.   Recalling his penchant to leave the door unlocked, she slowly turned the knob and peeked inside.   Seeing nothing, she moved into the room and closed the door silently.

There she waited like a caged tiger until the door opened again.   Turning away from the window, she smiled. Ray was still immersed in some conversation as he moved into the room. "I'll meet you here in a few minutes," he said, then turned and closed the door.

It was a moment before he looked up and saw the form backlit by the sunset. When he saw her, he smiled. "Victoria," he said, surprised.

"Shh," she breathed as she moved toward him, putting her arms around him after only a few strides. "We don't want anyone to know about our little trysts, do we?" she said softly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, keeping his tone low in case Francesca or Fraser had the opportunity to overhear.

"I came to see you," she said, running her hands over his chest.

"I'm supposed to have dinner with them," he said, tilting his head toward the neighbouring room.

"Skip it. Have dinner in here with me," she suggested.

Ray looked at her a moment, his hesitation making it clear that she needed to act. She wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him, running her tongue along his lip.   He gently rested his hands on her arms, moving to look into her eyes. "All right," he agreed. "Who knows how long I have you, anyway?"

"Tonight, at least," she said.   "I'll have to leave in the morning or Rose will know something is wrong, but I'll steal as much time as possible while you're in town."

Ray sighed. He didn't want stolen time. Pushing her away, he went to the door. "I'll go speak with Fraser and get us some food."

"What will you tell him?" she asked.

"That I'm not feeling well so I want to eat in my room tonight." He shrugged.   "It's not completely creative, but it'll suffice."

Several minutes later, Ray returned.   In the first instant, he didn't see Victoria. Before his mind had time to wonder if she'd left, he spotted her. She lay in the bed beneath the blankets, her arms and chest exposed. Furrowing his brow, he set down the tray he'd been given to carry his food on.

"First I need to work up an appetite," she said seductively.

Ray stepped to the bed and sat on it, facing her.   "We stopped to visit Meg again after we saw you."

Victoria sat up, wondering what that had to do with anything important. "Did she say something I should know?" she asked.

He shook his head. "She's still not telling us about the history the two of you have.   You want to tell me about it yet?"   Victoria shook her head.   "Well, your story places you near the alley."

"Of course it does," she said.

Ray cocked his head. "What did you really see?" he asked.

"What does it matter?" she asked, reaching out to affectionately touch his arm.

"I want to know," he said firmly, pulling back from her touch. "I want to know if you were the one who killed them."

"What?" she asked, aghast.

"There were more bullet wounds than bullets and the fatal shots came from a distance a hell of a lot further away than where Meg and Stan were standing."

"It could have been anyone."

"You told me yourself no one else was around.   Did you do it?   Those men wouldn't have died without your assistance, would they?"

She scowled a moment. "No, but I told you, I saw an opportunity and I took it."

"You killed them!" he snapped.   "You wanted to destroy them so bad, you didn't twist the facts, you completely created them!"

"So what if I did? You and I both got what we want. You know that's the truth and that's all that matters."

"Not like this." He found a pile of her clothes and tossed them at her.   "You should go."

"Go?" She asked. "How can you want me to leave?" She jumped out of the bed and embraced him. "You know I only did it because I love you."

He pushed her away. "You only did it because you wanted to ruin them.   Victoria, it was one thing to let him go down for Meg's crime. It's another to let them both suffer for yours."

She looked at him a moment.  "You've got to stop looking at what I did, Ray," she said smoothly. "Meg fired shots.   Just because she had the misfortune of missing them doesn't make her completely free of shooting the gun, does it?"

Looking away, Ray shook his head.   "I guess not."

"On top of that, Stan was there and he did try to cover up a crime. You can't argue that either. It doesn't matter what happened and who fired which shots. The point is that everyone is where they belong and justice is being served.   Do you want to blow it all away over semantics?"

Ray's eyes met hers again, but he didn't say a word.   Somehow, he could believe that what she said was true and he could want it as much as she. It didn't change the darkness he felt over trusting her, though.   He stepped toward her and put his arms around her. "Tell me about Meg," he said softly.

Victoria realized that now a story would simply give him more reason to hate and cement them together on this side of the truth.   She hadn't wanted to tell him, but he was giving her faith she'd never had before. Resting her cheek on his chest, she knew she had to choose her words carefully. "About six years ago I was working in Montgomery. Do you know where that is?"

"Yes," he replied, then closed his mouth, feeling her words as they brushed across him.

"Meg was an orphan girl, just like me.   I helped her out and took her in.   I made the owner of the place where I was working give her a job and we became friends. One day I received a letter that an uncle of mine was still alive, but on his deathbed. Meg accompanied me to his place and when he passed, he left me 4,000 dollars and a gold pocket watch that had belonged to my father – the only thing I had of my parents.   We traveled back to Montgomery together, but as soon as we got back there, she stole my money and that watch and disappeared. I couldn't believe the way she betrayed me. At first I tried to find her, but I couldn't."

"Until Gochick?" he asked.

"I got word one day that someone had seen her there.   That's why I went to Gochick.   I planned to confront her and get my money back or at least to make her pay for what she'd taken from me.   Then I met you and she was already gone.   I suppose I didn't know what to do."

Ray nodded, holding her close to him.  

"So you can see why I need your help.   This is how justice can finally be served," she said resolutely.

"Then we're in this together," he breathed.

><><><><><><

Francesca took a basket to the jail, the sheriff letting her in directly as this had now become custom. She handed Stan some of the food in silence, then watched him eat a moment.

As neither spoke, he regarded her with interest.   He couldn't explain what it was that interested him. It just seemed odd that she brought food and didn't speak. After finishing a roll, he shifted. "You don't have to do this, you know," he said.

"I know," she responded, solemnly.

He watched her another moment while he ate a piece of chicken. When it was gone, he stood and walked to the bars. "Then why are you?" he asked.

Francesca examined the floor as she spoke.   "I just don't like seeing you in here.   I guess I want to help."

"Frannie?" he said in that soft tone that always made her melt. She raised her eyes and met his. He could see that she was sad, but he tried to give her a comforting look.

"I'm afraid of what might happen," she admitted finally. "I'm afraid that Ben won't be able to help you and you'll… you'll be," she stopped to swallow hard, unable to say out loud what would happen if he didn't got out of that jail.    "I wonder if I hadn't said the things I said, you wouldn't be in here," she spat out, meekly.

"Oh," Stan said as her words sunk in.   "No, Frannie.   You can't think like that. I made my own choices to get me here. It had nothing to do with you."

She brushed a curl behind her ear, avoiding eye contact. "I just wish there was something I could do. We've been here two days. Time's running out and Benton doesn't seem to be getting anywhere." She paused. "At least, if he is, he's not telling me." Sighing, she stepped closer. "I can't see this happening to you. You were my best friend in Gochick."

He nodded.

"And you left," she added.

Stan raised an eyebrow. "Is that what's bothering you?"

Nodding slowly, she spoke again.   "You didn't even tell me you were going.   That's when I felt how much I must have hurt you. Not so much as a good-bye.   Didn't you care enough?"

Looking away, Stan wasn't sure what to say.   The door opened again.   Looking up, Stan's eyes lit up at the sight of Meg. Francesca noticed, looking to Meg, then, in an attempt to see the same light.

Meg was avoiding looking at anyone.   She stepped in, cleared her throat, then turned her gaze to Francesca. "Hello," she said politely.

"Hi," Francesca responded, feeling slightly uncomfortable.   "I should go," she added, starting for the door.

"I'm sorry," Stan said. Francesca stopped, met his eyes, and realized what he was apologizing for. Smiling slightly, she pushed back a curl again and left.

Meg looked at Stan a moment.   "What are you sorry for?" she asked at last.

Stan shrugged. "Nothing," he said, then smiled at her. "You came again. I'm… glad." He hesitated, not wanting to be overzealous.

Meg sniffed and stepped close to the bars.   Tentatively, she lifted a hand to his, wrapping it around one he was gripping a bar with.   He was surprised, but didn't flinch.   Seeing a flow of words in her eyes, he knew speaking would discourage her, so he just watched her.

She stared at their hands a long time before taking in a shaky breath. "I haven't been fair to you," she began. "I haven't been completely honest." She looked into his eyes, waiting for him to respond, to ask her what she'd been dishonest about, to push her into saying what she knew she had to say, but was too afraid to admit.

Stan shook his head. "You don't have to say it. I know you don't love me. I knew that from the beginning, but I don't mind it. You stay with me and you let me love you.   That's all I need."

Meg blinked back tears. "No, Stan. That's not the lie."

He looked puzzled. "Then what?"

She swallowed, but couldn't find her voice.   Leaning close to the bars, she closed her eyes. "Kiss me," she breathed.

Stan looked at her lips a moment, then leaned forward and kissed her gently. When she pulled back, he watched her open her eyes slowly and look at their hands again.   "I … I do care for you," she whispered.   "I care for you and I have for a very long time." She turned her gaze to his and saw his confusion as she shook away the things in her head that weren't important. "I didn't want to love you or anyone because I was afraid I'd lose myself.   Things never go right and if I lost you, I wouldn't know who I was without you anymore. My family, my parents and siblings, they're all gone, perhaps because I loved them."   She choked slightly.   "I did this to you by falling ..." She couldn't manage to finish the sentence.

Stan moved his hand from under hers.   She tried at the move to pull hers away, but he grabbed it quickly and held tight. "You didn't do this," he said firmly. "Nothing is going to happen to me because you love me or don't love me. That's not what this world depends upon."

"I want to believe that, but…"

"Shhh," he interrupted, pulling her arm through so that she had to step closer. He reached around her then and pulled her close. Leaning against the bars, she let him kiss her, more passionately.

The door opened again and Stan stepped back.   Meg did also, slowly taking her arm from Stan's grasp. They turned and saw Ray as he froze. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Meg shook her head. "I was about to leave…"

"No," Stan said quickly, but she turned and smiled.   "I'll come back in a few minutes.   I just need to talk to Benton," she said. It was enough for him to know that this time she was promising a return. She passed Ray and he closed the door behind her.

"I didn't expect to see you," Stan said, scratching his neck as he backed toward the cot and sat down.

Ray's mouth was clenched shut.   Slowly, he walked around the bars, watching Stan.   Curious, Stan wondered why he was being watched, but said nothing as he lifted a foot to the bed and rested his elbow on the knee.

Finally stopping, Ray checked the door before looking at Stan. "Frannie's happy now.   You know that?"

"Yes," Stan responded, still curious.

"I told you that day – the day you asked me if you could court her – that if you hurt her I'd kill you."

Stan looked at the floor, sure this was going to be another lecture now that Stan couldn't fight back.

Ray's next words surprised him.   "Would have hurt her if you'd made her marry you after she told you she was making a mistake."

Stan's head snapped to attention.   Staring at Ray, he lowered the foot and leaned toward the bars.

"I know I blamed you, refused to see the truth no matter how many times Frannie tried to say it," Ray went on.   "So now it seems like I can make up for that."

Stan stood. "How?"

Ray's teeth scratched together a moment, then he took a step back. "Victoria Metcalf.   Do you know who she is?"

Stan nodded.

"What do you know?"

Stan cocked his head. "She's the one who is testifying against me."

"Did you know she and Meg knew each other?"

Nodding slowly, Stan wondered just how much Ray knew.   He knew the full story, but had sworn to Meg he'd never reveal it to a soul. Now he was being asked and it was the first time not telling had been difficult.

Ray furrowed his brow and began to pace.   "She told me a fascinating story."

Stan watched him pace in silence a moment.   "And?" he prodded.

"In this story, Meg stole a great amount of money from her, an heirloom, and her pride." He stopped and bit his lower lip as he looked Stan more intently in the eye.   "She is testifying against you to ruin you and Meg for what she did to her and what you did to my family."

Stan let out a breath. He'd suspected as much, but what was his proof?   He put his hands on the bars and listened.

"Do you know what is most interesting about the story?" Ray asked as he stopped pacing.

"What?"

Ray sighed and Stan could see he had difficulty saying whatever it was he wanted to say next. Perhaps it was the reason for all the stalling so far.   "If you stand on the porch out at your place, you can still hear what's going on inside."

Stan raised his eyebrows.

"Meg tells a pretty similar tale, only her's includes a ring."

Stan straightened.

"A ring like the one Victoria wears on her right ring finger," Ray finished.

Stan's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying? Doesn't Benton know? Why am…"

"I'm saying I know everything and I know what has to be done to get you out of here. Benton doesn't know. He didn't know I heard Meg and he wasn't there when I was talking to Victoria."

"You were talking to Victoria alone?"   Ray looked at Stan, then looked away.   The expression gave him away and Stan took in a breath. "You and Victoria did more than talk."

"I met her when she came to Gochick last year.   That's how she knew that I had animosity over your relationship with Meg and the end of the one with Francesca.   When I learned she was here, I knew I had to see her again."

"Why don't you do something to get me out of here, then?"

Ray took a deep breath. "It changes things to find out you don't know someone the way you thought you did, doesn't it? I think I found out you weren't what I expected. Francesca grew up on me and didn't need me anymore."

"Yes, and she's happy. So you know what we need to get me out of here.   Tell someone."

Ray shrugged. "You'd think it would be easy to tell, to make up for things and make this right, wouldn't you?"

"Simple," Stan confirmed.

Ray smiled. "But then again, being the only one with an important piece of information, the only one who knows the truth, gives one a certain advantage."

Stan furrowed his brow. "Then why tell me?"

"So that you can see how close you were to freedom.   If I tell Victoria to run and I deny what I know, who would believe you?"

"Dammit, Ray. Why do you hate me so much? I'll take responsibility for breaking Frannie's heart, but I didn't do it to you.   She's happy now.   Why can't you just forget me and be happy for her?"

"I am happy for her."

"And yet you keep wasting all your time hating me."

"Yes. Maybe I do, but it's such a simple plan. I get you out of my life permanently and then Victoria is free to be mine."

Stan grunted. "Why would you want someone full of lies?"

Ray cocked his head. "It's not all lies. She has anger in her heart."

"Anger? She has nothing to be angry about."

Ray shrugged. "All right, then let's try this on for size. She has an estate awaiting her in Boston with several thousands of dollars and a staff."

"Money? I never saw you as the money type," Stan commented.

Ray smiled coyly. "Hundreds of thousands of dollars buys my type."

Stan swallowed. "What about Meg? That's her money. That's her family and even if you disgrace her, she'll prove it someday."

"See, that's the beauty of this situation, Stan.   If Victoria killed Meg while you were in the picture, you would stop her. If she managed it regardless, you would hunt her down for it."

Stan shook his head fiercely.   "She wanted me out so she could kill Meg?"

"Yes," he responded. "I've taken the liberty of making sure justice is served.   It will clear the way for Victoria and myself."

"You're crazy, Vecchio!" Stan exclaimed.

Ray nodded. "Most likely," he said, then opened the door. Standing in the doorway were several men, their faces obscured by sacks with holes cut into them. They burst in and had the cage open in an instant. Pulling Stan from the cell, they dragged him out to the street.   Confusion and horror set in as Stan wondered how this could be happening.

><><><><><><

Francesca heard a ruckus in the street and turned around to face the window. She looked out at the group of men.

"What is it, Fran?" Benton asked.

"A riot or something. There's a group of men… Oh my God!" she exclaimed spinning.   "It's Stan!"

Benton started toward the window, but she grabbed his arm. "It's a lynch mob, Ben!   You have to get down there!"

Benton threw on his coat and swung the door open to the hall. As he bumped into the woman, apologizing, he realized she was matching him step for step, not letting him pass. He finally took notice of her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Miss Metcalf…"

"Mr. Fraser. I'd like to speak with you."

"I can't I…"

"It will only take a moment," she said, still blocking him by moving with him in an uncanny dance.

"Miss Metcalf, I have to…"

She grabbed his shirt. "Please. I must speak with you."

He debated his options. Pushing her was out of the question, but he had to get past.   Perhaps pushing her forcefully wasn't out of the question, he realized. Disgrace wouldn't matter if Stan died.

Francesca stepped into the hall to see the commotion, just as he shoved Victoria into the wall, causing her to fall.   He ran past her.   Surprised, Francesca stepped into the hall and offered a hand. "I'm sorry, ma'am.   My husband usually would never…"

Victoria stood. "Don't give it another thought," she said, smiling graciously.   Taking a step, she stumbled.

Francesca caught her. "Oh dear. Perhaps we should go into my room until you feel more stable."

"Yes, perhaps we should," Victoria replied.

><><><><><><

Benton stepped into the street and fired his gun into the air. The action distracted the small mob as they turned to look at him. Stan kicked, trying to get away, but was held firm. Ray pushed between two men. "Thank God, Ben. I've been trying to stop them!"

"You liar!" Stan hollered, kicking his feet out, but missing Ray.

"Let him go.   Justice will be served in due time.   You can't do this," Benton said, trying to stop the situation.

"He's a killer!" someone yelled. As the migrating group shoved Stan toward the scaffold,  

Ray stepped up beside Benton.   Glancing at Ray, Benton readjusted the grip on his gun.   "Help me stop them," he insisted.

Ray leaned back on one heel and rested his hand on the butt of his gun. Watching as Benton followed the group, yelling for them to stop, he also saw Stan jerk, digging his heels into the dirt. "Stop them, Ben!   It wasn't me!   It wasn't Meg, Ben!" Stan was yelling as Benton struggled to hear him over the throng. "It was Victoria Metcalf! It's her and Ray!" he hollered.

Ben stopped. He'd heard Ray's name and as he turned to see Ray standing by, his eyes narrowed.   Ray hadn't heard a word of what Stan was yelling, but he could see in Benton's eyes that Ben would want answers.   Benton stepped toward Ray.

Ray shook his head. "He's lying," Ray said. "It's a desperate act of a desperate man, looking to get off.   He's about to be hanged, Ben, he's just…"   All the while, Ben had been staring at Ray's shoulder. Ray stopped speaking as Ben reached out and took something from Ray's shirt and held it up.   The long black curl hung from Ben's fingers between them only a moment before Fraser awarded Ray a knowing and disappointed glance. His eyes then drifted up to the window of their hotel room, the one he shared with Francesca.   The light of the oil lamp flickered inside, but no shadows danced on the walls.

Swallowing, Ben put the pieces together.   He wanted to run after Francesca, stop things before anything could happen to her, but as his gaze drifted back into reality, he saw a noose go around Stan's neck. His yelling went unheard under the sounds of the mob, but his protests were obvious.

Suddenly moving into motion, Benton ran toward the crowd, his gun ready. He pushed into the center and grabbed Stan, holding him even as someone else tugged the other direction. Cocking his gun, Benton shot into the air. It was an act that only barely calmed the crowd, but it was enough for him to speak over them.   "Stop!" he yelled with urgency.   "I know who did this!   It wasn't Stan – or Meg."   He took a moment to note Ray's hasty retreat and the direction he was going. "If you just give me until morning. By daybreak I'll have the murderers in custody."

"Ben!" Stan objected.

"It's all right," Benton responded quietly.   "I know where they are – or at least where they're headed." He looked back at the man who held the rope. "Please.   Just give me that much time."

The man who held Stan's arm took charge. "Why should we believe you? We know you came in here showing off your fancy badge because this man's your friend. Friend or not, he killed and our own law officers saw fit to arrest him."

"And where is the law now?" Benton asked quickly.   "No where! Yes this man is my friend, but justice comes before friendship.   The dead men took nine shots to the body – and from a distance. Even if Stan hadn't been in the alleyway shooting, he only had a six shooter.   Your own sheriff will back up that claim." He paused.   Part of his mind was still on Francesca as another part prayed these men wouldn't stall him any longer.   Considering what he'd said, the man holding the rope took the initiative to remove the noose from around Stan's neck.   Stan gasped, taking a breath for the first time in a few seconds even though his movements hadn't been restricted.   He tugged nervously, but the man didn't let go. "You're wasting time.   They're already running from town," Benton stated. "Please."

Stan blinked and looked at Benton.   "Where's Meg?" he asked suddenly.

Benton furrowed his brow.

"She was coming by the jail after she spoke to you," he said. "Then the mob came."

Benton glanced into the crowd as he spoke to the men holding Stan. "You don't want to hang him just because someone told you to, do you? The person who witnessed the act is the criminal.   She lied to divert your attention."   He swallowed and looked back to Stan.   "She never came to see me," Benton responded.

Stan jerked again, this time the man let him go.   "You've got until morning," he said.   "Then we're coming after the both of you!" he vowed.

Benton nodded his agreement to the terms, then held Stan's arm as he headed toward the steps. The man grabbed Benton, stopping him. "He should stay – just in case you don't come back.   Be easier than hunting you both down," he demanded.

Shaking his head, Benton held his gun to the man's forehead. Everything in his being told him that the threat was wrong, but he was desperate.   Cocking the gun, he took a step back.   "I need his help," he stated simply as he backed away.

><><><><><><

Taking the first horses they found, Benton justified it by saying they were only borrowing them. He hated to be so blatant, but every time he stopped a moment, Stan pushed him on and reminded him that Francesca and Meg were at stake.   Stan followed Benton's direction out of town, both riding at top speed with little thought to the wear on the horses. Once out of town, Benton finally pulled back, slowing the horse slightly.

Stan rode up beside him. "Where do you think they went?" he asked.

"Ray rode this way out of town.   I assume he was going to meet up with Victoria somewhere.   She couldn't handle both women on her own so that puts us only a few minutes behind them."

Stan nodded and looked at the terrain.   A wooded area grew up on the other side of a hill. He could see the tops of the trees above the horizon and as Benton rode that direction, he followed.

Making their way rather quickly over the edge, they were soon in the wooded area. Stan tried to see through the trees. "Now what?" he asked as Benton slowed to an even pace. "I don't see anything anywhere."

"Shh," Benton commanded, pulling the reigns.

Stan watched him as Benton listened.   "There," he said.

"There what?" he asked.

"I heard something that way," he responded, motioning.   Stan swallowed, not sure if Benton heard anything when he hadn't. Growing nervous, he followed. Within a few moments, they both heard voices. Benton motioned Stan to silence. Riding near the edge of where the trees opened, Stan could see Ray's back as he held Victoria's upper arms and talked to her emphatically.   He couldn't make out the words, but as he looked to the ground, he could see Francesca bound to a wagon wheel, gagged, and wide-eyed.   He knew that look of fear and as he glanced at Benton, he saw Benton calculating their options.

Stan coaxed his horse a foot forward.   He swallowed hard as he looked through the trees into the clearing. Benton watched him a moment, then frowned. He couldn't see Meg either, but he couldn't offer more than a silent reassuring gesture.   Waving his hand slightly, he motioned Stan to move back. They dismounted and tied the horses to nearby trees before Benton put his hand on Stan's back.   "I'm sure she's fine," he mouthed more than whispered. Using hand signals, he then suggested Stan find his place behind the trees and shrubbery near the wagon. Benton would go around the other side and as their plan came together, Stan nodded his understanding.

Benton leaned close to Stan's ear at the last moment, pulling him close by wrapping an arm around his shoulder.   "Remember that whatever you see, whatever you hear, we want them out alive and we want the women safe, all right?"

Stan furrowed his brow, confused about why Benton would say this, then nodded. The two separated without Benton telling Stan that he had managed to make out a few words of their conversation.

><><><><><><

"You knew there was no way I'd go along with this.   Francesca is just bait!" Ray snapped, grabbing Victoria's upper arms.

Victoria laughed wryly. "You're lucky I didn't kill them both before you got here."

Ray shook his head. "Look, if I know Benton's negotiating skills, he'll be here any second. We can't argue about this now."

"Yeah, that's why it has to be now.   I'm not going to drag them over half the country, feeding them, giving them my water, so just do it or I will – and you know I won't be nice about it."

Ray blinked. "There's a nice way to kill my sister?" he asked incredulously, shoving Victoria.

Victoria stood her ground and slapped Ray.   Ray growled and pushed her to the ground.

"Keep your eye on the prize, honey," Victoria snorted.   "Don't forget the money," she added, rolling to her stomach and lifting her upper body.

Her eyes met Stan's even as he tried to hide.   He knew he had to act fast now and prayed Benton would be ready. Pulling his gun and cocking it as he stepped into the open, he kept his eye on Victoria.   He felt Ray pull his gun, but kept concentrated. Ray was Benton's responsibility. Taking a step forward, Stan took out his knife with his left hand and started toward Francesca.

"Don't take another step," Ray sneered as Stan froze a moment. Swallowing, he allowed himself a glance over Victoria to where Ray stood. Seeing Benton coming up behind, he then concentrated on Victoria.   Victoria rose slowly as Stan squatted.   He worked the knife under Francesca's bonds, taking only slight glances to see what he did so Victoria couldn't surprise him. Once Frannie was loose, she took the knife from him, removed the gag, and cut the binds on her ankles herself.

"Where's Meg," Stan asked.

Victoria straightened smoothly, a smug look crossing her face.

Stan blinked, glanced at Francesca, then stepped closer to Victoria. "Where is she?"

"I don't know," Francesca responded.   She took the ropes that had tied her and approached Victoria. Pulling her arms back, Francesca began to tie Victoria's wrists.

As Francesca tugged to check the tightness of the bonds, Stan nodded and stepped closer. He grabbed Victoria's arm, put his gun to her temple, and jerked her toward the wagon. As he forced her to the ground and tied her feet, Benton forced Ray beside them.   Once Victoria was secured, Stan stood and faced Ray.   "Where is she?" he demanded.

Ray swallowed as Francesca spoke again.   "We don't know.   She did something with her." Francesca glanced at Benton, then the ground.   Softly she spoke hoping only Benton would hear the words she spoke next. "I think she already killed her."

Victoria jerked against her bonds as Stan jumped at Ray. Shoving him to the ground, he held his gun to Ray's forehead. "It's all your fault!" he yelled. He felt his finger trying to squeeze the trigger, but he couldn't do it and as Benton wrapped his arms around Stan to pull him off Ray, Stan could hear Francesca's voice.

"Stop, please," she begged, looking at the sorry state of her brother.

Stan jerked and tugged from Fraser as Francesca fell to her knees beside Ray. "How could you do this?" she asked him.

Ray met her gaze, staring for several seconds before he put his arms around her in a hug. "I'm sorry, Frannie. I thought I could take care of you. We needed the money.   I needed the money to take care of you, of the house, of what's left of our family property."

"What are you talking about?" Francesca pushed.

"The debt. All the money it takes to keep the house, to keep Ma's belongings.   I lost everything.   I needed the money."

"Where's Meg?" Stan asked again, calming.

"I don't know. I don't know what she did with her," he insisted.

Stan turned. The moment interrupted Victoria's moves a moment too soon and as two shots rang out simultaneously, Francesca screamed. Benton reached out to grab Frannie, but as the world hit slow motion, he realized she was screaming at what she'd just witnessed.   He turned to see Stan crumbling to the ground as Victoria lay on her back in the dust.

Francesca fell to her knees beside Stan as Benton moved over to Victoria. Ray sat stunned a moment before getting to his feet. Stan held his side while Francesca tried to move his hand so she could see the wound. "It's not bad," he grunted.   Francesca moved his bloody hand back.   He was right, it wasn't very bad, but before she could imagine how to bandage it with the current provisions, she heard Benton speak.

"She's dead," he said softly.   He turned his head to Stan. "You must have hit her first."

"Meg," he muttered, his mind stuck on only one trail.   "She was the only one who knew."

"She said someone would find her." Ray helped Francesca as she moved Stan to his feet. "She said someone would find her eventually if they just looked hard enough."

Stan shook his head. "That doesn't help," he murmured.

Ray let out a breath. "I'll help you find her. I owe you."

"You more than owe me," Stan snapped.

Ray shook his head shamefully.   "I just wanted to do right by Frannie, by the family.   I didn't mean for things to go this far. I was supposed to tell you we were going to kill Meg to lure you and Benton out here, but she wasn't really supposed to do it. Threats.   They were all just supposed to be threats. Nothing more."

Stan watched as Ray made his mournful, finally honest plea. "Where would they find her?   Eventually?" he asked.

Stan shrugged. "I don't… I don't know. I just know she said they'd go looking and they'd find her body."

"They'd go looking?" Stan said, then stiffened.   "They'd go looking out at our place."   He paused. "Where else?" He looked thoughtful.

"Is there somewhere in your home Victoria could lock Meg, somewhere Meg wouldn't be able to get free, someplace…"

"The storm shelter," Stan responded quickly.   "I mean, it's the only place I can think of and if someone blocked the entrance well enough, no one could get out."

"Let's go," Benton said. Francesca supported Stan back to his horse, letting Ray figure out his own way as he mounted his.

><><><><><><

Riding up to the Kowalski residence, Benton jumped from his horse. Ray was close behind, but the horse carrying Stan and Francesca lagged behind.   Francesca had the reigns as Stan leaned against her, barely clinging to consciousness as he held his side. She saw the amount of blood and knew something had to be done soon, but not knowing the danger Meg was in, she simply followed her brother and her husband.

As she neared, she saw Ray and Fraser frantically moving rocks from a pile near the back of the house. She dismounted, taking a moment to situate Stan before approaching.   "Is she in there?"

"Don't know," Ray said breathlessly.   "If she is, she's not conscious.   We called for her."   He paused. "Stan ok?"

Francesca grabbed a rock and moved it.   "He will be," she responded.   "You, on the other hand…"

Ray nodded, but kept working.   Soon they'd moved all the rocks from the wooden door and as Benton struggled to open it, Ray grabbed it also and helped.   The door, jammed tightly, finally pulled loose. Benton jumped into the opening, but as Ray looked into the darkness, he immediately looked around for light. Francesca watched, holding her hands over her mouth anxiously and knowing there wasn't much she could do.   Ray spotted a lantern hanging by the front door and as he finally managed to light it, he ran back to the cellar.   By the time he reached it, he saw Benton carrying a limp form so he set down the lantern and reached in to take her from him. Bringing out the lifeless body, he laid it on the ground. Benton hopped out and checked for a pulse. It was strong, but the blood coming from the blunt wound on her forehead explained her state. Carrying her back to his horse, Francesca checked on Stan and the group headed back into town, toward the doctor's office.

><><><><><><

Francesca put her hand on Benton's knee and smiled.   "Have I thanked you yet?" she asked.

"About six times," he responded, nuzzling close to her neck.

"And don't I say it bears repeating every time?"

Benton chuckled. He glanced around the room, then kissed Francesca gently on the mouth.   "I'm just glad you're ok."

"Which makes six times you've said that," she responded.

Benton let out a breath. "I don't know what to do about your brother," he admitted softly.   "I know he wasn't thinking straight and he wanted to protect you. I realize this just got out of hand and that it wasn't his fault, but he did commit a crime and showed no remorse when Stan nearly lost his life."

Francesca nodded slowly. "You know I don't want to see him rotting out in that jail cell."    She paused.   "They seemed satisfied knowing Victoria's role in the murders and letting Ray go, but…" she looked him in the eye.   "I know you want justice, but he is your friend, my brother.   Don't you think he deserves a second chance?"

Benton shook his head slowly.   "I'll think about it. Maybe I'll let Stan decide – or Meg. They were most wronged by him in this case.   What do you think?"

"I think you could talk with them about it," Francesca said.

The doctor stepped from the back room and smiled.   "Everyone is ok," he announced.   "Stan's bullet went clean through – just a large wound and Meg woke a few minutes ago. She's still a little disoriented, but all will be well in time."

"Thank you, doctor," Benton said, standing to shake Turnbull's hand.

Renfield smiled.  "You're welcome," he responded.

><><><><><><

Watching as Benton helped Francesca into the coach, Stan dug his hands into his pockets. A moment later, he noticed Ray finish putting the bags in and start walking toward him. He cocked his head.

"Benton told me that you were the one to say I deserved a second chance."

Stan shrugged. "Meg and I felt it." He shifted.   "I suspect Fraser will keep a close enough eye on you in the future to keep you out of trouble."

Ray scoffed. "It's not that. I just got caught up in my troubles…"

Stan nodded. "I know," he assured him. "Look, Meg and I want to start fresh. Can't do that if we're wondering about you so you're their problem," he commented, waving toward the coach.

Ray stood a moment, then turned.   "Yeah, well thanks," he said quickly as he headed for the stage.

Stan stood on the step outside the stage office and smiled broadly. With his arm around Meg, he waved as Francesca leaned out the window of the coach for their last good byes. Meg smiled and held up her hand in a friendly wave as well.

Stan saw a hand he recognized as Ray's grab Frannie's shoulder and pull her back inside. He smiled and turned to Meg. As she looked up at him, he pulled the arm around her closer and smiled.   "I love you," he said, now feeling less of a fool to admit it.

"I…" she began, but stopped herself and kissed him.

He looked back down the road at the coach disappearing behind the dust. She still couldn't say it, but that was ok. Those words in the jail had told the truth and he was content not hearing the words.   He leaned to kiss her forehead, then took a step. "Let's go home," he said.

><><><><><><
14 months later
Stan pushed the blankets back and leaned over the woman beside him. Planting a soft kiss on her belly, he lifted his head, put his arm over her, then kissed her mouth tenderly. "Good morning."

Meg smiled. "Morning."

Stan climbed out of bed and walked to the vanity.   Pouring water from the pitcher into the bowl, he yawned.

"Stan?"

He looked in the mirror and saw that she was sitting up. In that position, no one would ever know she was with child. In fact, the only time he could tell was when she was naked or when he ran his hands around her waist and found the top hook unfastened. He stared at her reflection, smiling as she glowed.

"I want to go home."

Spinning, Stan set his gaze on her.

"To Gochick," she added.

He looked surprised. "You want to go back there?" he asked.

"Yes."

He smiled broadly. "All right," he said. "We'll leave as soon as possible." He moved back to the bed and sat on it. Leaning over, he kissed her again, gently.

><><><><><><

Francesca stood in the mirror primping her hair.   She frowned and tugged on an unruly lock, then sighed.

"Something the matter?" Benton asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She stood, her hand moving instinctively to rest on her swelled stomach. "I don't know if I want to go."

Benton furrowed his brow. "You have to go."

"My hair is a mess."

He touched it. "It's lovely."

"Not enough. I just don't feel like going."

Fraser shook his head. "Francesca, honey, you can't skip your brother's wedding because of your hair."

She pouted a little. Her mood shifted for the third time in that hour.   "Oh, all right!" she growled, exasperated. "I'll go."   She sighed and turned sideways, running a hand under her belly to examine how big she was.

Benton smiled at her, bent over, kissed her stomach, then straightened and kissed her lips. "You're beautiful," he said.

Trying to look upset, it only lasted a moment before she smiled.

><><><><><><

Benton held Francesca's hand in the crook of his elbow tightly as they crossed the road. He looked at her and smiled again before looking up to note a coach coming into town. They continued toward the church wordlessly. Just outside the chapel doors, he turned to face her. "We have plenty of time. Would you like to enjoy the fresh air before we go in?" he asked.

She nodded. "Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"What is?" Benton asked.

"That Ray turned his life around so completely.   He seems happy with her and completely unconcerned about what might come."

Benton smiled. "Ray is a good man. We knew that."

"He just made some bad choices."

"Certainly," Benton responded, watching the coach over Francesca's shoulder. He was mildly curious as to who might be coming into town or what packages the stagecoach might bring. He saw feet step out from the opposite side – ladies boots quickly covered by a skirt, then a pair of men's boots. The driver hopped down and took some packages inside the offices. A moment later, the men's boots appeared around the back of the stage to take his baggage from the compartment. Benton straightened.

"What is it?" Francesca asked at the sharp movement.

Benton squinted. "I can't be sure, but that looks like Stan."

Francesca spun. "Stan!" she yelled, waving.

Stan looked up, his face suddenly brightening into a smile at the sight of her.

"It is him," she commented.

Benton waved Stan to join him, but he stayed there a moment. He took out another bag, then moved them to the step in front of the coach offices.   As the coach finally pulled away, Benton saw Stan leading Meg by the hand toward them.

As soon as they were near, Benton grinned.   "This is a surprise."

Stan chuckled. "Meg and I decided to come back," he remarked.

"Permanently?" Francesca asked.

Stan nodded.

"Great!" she responded emphatically.   "But why?"

Stan shrugged. "This is home," he replied.

They stood a moment before Stan looked at the church behind them. "What are you two doing here on a Saturday?"

"Ray's getting married," Francesca answered.   "To Elaine."

Stan thought a moment. "That woman who lives with the tribe outside of town?" he queried.   Francesca nodded and Stan smiled.   "Well, I'll be damned.   I guess you did manage to keep him out of trouble." He paused.   "Well, sort of."

Meg chuckled and bowed her head.

"Why don't you join us?" Benton offered.   "I'm sure Ray would love to see you."

"Probably not, but we'll come in anyway," Stan said.

Benton and Francesca moved inside as Stan glanced at Meg. "Shall we?" he said.

Meg smiled and took his arm.   He started to move inside, but she didn't follow.   He stopped and turned to face her.   "Is something wrong?"

Shaking her head, Meg took in a deep breath, then smiled while she looked him in the eye. "I love you," she said softly.

And there it was. Simply said in a moment without fanfare or grandeur, but better than Stan could ever have hoped for. The large grin on his face gave him away as he took a step back toward her, kissed her, then cocked his head toward the chapel doors.   "Let's go inside," he said, moving as she held his elbow and moved with him.
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