Tell Your God to Ready for Blood

by Susan L. Carr

Copyright © September 2012

skeeter451@mysticmuse.net

6 – Here Was a Man

The wind picked up and Natalia shivered in the cold, finally turning and going inside the farmhouse. It was time to accept the fact that her husband had left her and was not coming back. For the second time in as many days, she stood in the parlor of the house, only now she knew it was hers. She gave a bitter laugh at the irony that the first time she set foot in her home it was with her rival and not her husband.

The parlor was furnished and Natalia recognized some items from Nicky's house in town. She suspected the Iowan family who had abandoned the farm had left most of their belongings behind. She ran a hand across the coverlet draped over the settee. The fabric was soft and comfortable, as were the rest of the simple, yet sturdy, furnishings.

Off of the parlor was a room furnished with a desk, a comfortable chair. The built-in bookshelves were mostly empty. A small safe occupied one corner of the room and a piece of paper with numbers on it rested on top. Natalia committed the combination to memory then used it to open the safe. Inside was a small bag of gold and the papers to the house. She frowned when she saw the note was held by the Bank of Deadwood. She estimated his salary would cover the payments, but probably not much else and she promised herself to discuss it with Nicky later on.

She wandered into the dining room, the contents matching the style and taste of that from the living room. Through the open door, she caught a glimpse of what was obviously her kitchen and, deciding to save exploration of that for last, she took the narrow flight of stairs that led upward.

Upstairs, there were three bedrooms. In one of the bedrooms, she recognized a leather shaving kit that she had given her son when his whiskers had started to darken. She opened the cupboard and smiled when she saw a few articles of Rafe's clothing. He had obviously claimed this room as his own and Natalia's heart warmed at the thought that his father had honored his promise to provide a home for their son.

The other, smaller bedroom was simply furnished with a small bed and a dresser, but the largest bedroom came with a set of French doors that were draped in a dark burgundy fabric. The chest, wardrobe and vanity all had come with the house she thought, but she couldn't help but notice the large bed was brand new. She turned the handle on the doors and stepped out onto the small balcony that overlooked the farmstead. From this vantage, she could see the cleared fields that were overgrown with weeds and waiting for cultivation.

She remembered a conversation she and Sheriff Bullock had during the dinner for Mr. Clemens and how he said that traditional Midwestern crops did not do well in the rugged soil of the Black Hills. It was his assertion that alfalfa would prove to be a lucrative cash crop, especially with the costs associated with transport of cattle from the southern regions. Natalia had made note of the subject of their discussion because of the Spaulding interests in cattle. An available source of feed would mean local ranchers could undercut on the high prices her father-in-law demanded for his beef. She made a mental note to herself to get more information from Bullock on the planting of alfalfa at a later date.

She also noted the stacks of freshly cut firewood drying near the barn. Nicky had obviously spent some time preparing the farmstead for their occupation with Rafe's assistance. She turned back to the bedroom, carefully closing the doors behind her. She sat on the bed, the support ropes barely giving under weight and felt an intense stab of anger.

Olivia Spencer had intended on tempting her husband into this bed, Natalia's matrimonial bed. Even though she hadn't succeeded in her nefarious plans, Olivia had still ruined things. Nicky would not be sleeping in this bed with her tonight and Natalia resented the other woman for it. However, there was nothing she could do about it at the moment and decided to explore what was to her, the most important room in the house.

Natalia smiled as she walked into her kitchen and saw that Nicky had outfitted it with all of the latest conveniences and, much to her delight, an indoor water pump. She immediately headed for the new cast iron stove and began to set the fire going for coffee. While she waited for the water to boil, she looked around, opening cupboards and inspecting and inventorying the cookware.

Like Nicky had said, the small pantry was fully stocked with canned goods and a trapdoor leading to a root cellar revealed the fragrant aroma of stored vegetables, fruit, cured meat and salted fish. Another small room off of the kitchen contained a small cot and a dresser and was probably intended as a maid's room.

She opened the door leading out to the back yard and looked around. More firewood was stacked against the house and also near a small building that, upon investigation, proved to be part smokehouse and part chicken coop. Further back from the house and well away from the creek that ran through the property, a small privy stood by itself.

Heading back inside for her coffee, she remembered a conversation her and Nicky had back in Chicago. He had promised to marry her and told her that one day they would live in a big house on a farm. She had laughed at the notion at the time. They were both city kids, what did they know about farm life, but Nicky had apparently been serious about it because here they were. Or at least she was. God only knew when Nicky would come join her.

After she finished her coffee, she went to the pantry to get a cured ham and began preparation it for when Rafe arrived. The simple domestic activity settled her nerves and by the time the scents of cooking food filled her kitchen, she was feeling much more optimistic about things.

Just after noon, she heard the wagon approaching the house and went outside. To her surprise, there was a second figure sitting next to the dark-haired form of her son. As the wagon approached, she saw the long white beard and bald head of Richardson. A second horse was tethered to the wagon.

Rafe directed the wagon to the house and stopped it in front of the porch. The back of the buckboard was filled with her things from Company as well as more supplies including several crates filled with live chickens. Two western saddles and a sidesaddle were secured to the buckboard and Natalia recognized the gelding she had borrowed yesterday from Mr. Fields pulling the wagon.

"Hello, Mama," he said, putting down the reins and hopping off the buckboard.

"Rafael," she said. "Richardson."

"Hello Miss Rivera," he said after Rafe had given the old man a hand down from the wagon, he was holding a large basket and kept his eyes on the ground. "Miss Spencer told me I couldn't work at the Beacon anymore."

Natalia nodded. "I'm sorry, that was my fault," she said. "But you're welcome to stay here if you want. I could use the help."

"That's what Gus thought," Rafe said. "There's an old stove in the shed we can set up in the barn for him."

"All right," she said. She hadn't missed her son's use of his father's first name and suspected he and Nicky might have had words. She filed the information away for later.

"Are those your belongings?" she asked Richardson.

He shook his head. "Aunt Lou sent some food," he answered and handed her the basket.

"Thank you," she said, then turned to Rafe. "Is Mr. Fields letting me borrow the gelding again?"

"No, Mama," he answered as he unloaded the wagon. "He's yours. Gus purchased him from the general as well as your saddle." He examined her face, his hand coming up to gently touch her cheek. "What happened, Mama?"

"Not now," she said. "Go ahead and get Mr. Richardson settled and then you both come in to eat."

She picked up two of the chicken crates and headed around to the coop.

By the time the chickens were settled in their new home, the birds happily pecking at the feed she scattered for them, the sun was low in the sky. Rafe had come inside, but Richardson stood at the back door with his head hanging down. Natalia watched him a moment to see if he would come in and when he didn't, she grabbed a plate from the table and filled it with food for him.

"Thank you, Miss Rivera," he said when she handed him the plate. He turned and scampered for the barn.

"He'll be all right out there?" she asked as Rafe cleaned up at the sink.

"Oh, sure," Rafe answered. "I converted two of the horse stalls into a small room for him. He's got a pallet to sleep on, the stove and a couple of crates for his books. I even nailed up a small shelf for his antlers. He'll be right cozy."

"Good," she said, satisfied and proud of her son's handiwork.

They sat at the table and held hands while she said grace. Then Rafe dug into the food with gusto. Natalia at more slowly, enjoying the first meal she had prepared in her own kitchen.

Finally, Rafe asked, "Did Gus do that?"

For a moment, she was confused, then she brought a hand up to her bruised cheek. "No, he didn't," she answered. "And I don't want to talk about it, all right."

"Who hit you, Mama?" he said, his eyes flashing.

"Just drop it, Rafael," she said firmly and was relieved to see him go back to his meal, although she could tell from his stiffness that he remained angry. Her son had a a fiery temper that matched her own, but had not yet learned to fully control it.

"You knew about the farmstead, Rafael?" she asked when he had finally slowed down.

He nodded and swallowed a bite. "Gus told me of the surprise on the trip to Yankton and enlisted my help in getting things ready for you. I think I must have cut a ton of trees." He displayed his work-worn hands that were covered with newly healed blisters.

"Thank you," she said. "Everything is perfect."

"Except for one thing," he said, his eyes flashing with anger again. "Gus is not here. What happened, Mama?"

"Did you argue with your father?" she asked.

"We had words," Rafe admitted. "When he said he was moving into the Beacon instead of here, I expressed my opinion on his worth as a man."

"He's moving in to the Beacon?" she asked, feeling her stomach churn with jealousy.

"The family he sold the house to finally made it to town and want to get settled in before winter sets in," Rafe explained.

Natalia had wished he had taken her old room at Company, but knew it made more sense for him to go to the Beacon to be closer to Emma. However, that didn't mean she had to like it. "It's because of his honor that he has to stay there," she said, trying not to show her anger to her son.

"It's that woman, isn't it?" Rafe asked. "Olivia Spencer. She's trying to steal Gus from you, isn't she, Mama?"

"She tried," she said, standing up and taking her plate to the galvanized bucket she had filled with water from the pump and had heating on the stove while they ate. "She tried, but she didn't succeed. He's my husband now and nothing's going to change that."

Rafe finished his meal and brought his plate over to her, then began to put the leftover food away. "So why is he there instead of where he belongs?"

"Because of something I stupidly did," she answered. "And he has to be there to fix it. It's all right, Rafael. He'll come home when he can."

"It's not right," he said. "Someone should be here to protect you besides some old man. I'll leave my apprenticeship with Mr. Fields."

"No!" she said, emphatically. "You need to learn a trade, Rafael, and you're good at it. You'll make a good farrier. I can take care of myself. I have for a long time now."

Rafe was silent as they finished cleaning up the kitchen, but Natalia could tell her son remained unsettled. "I don't like that woman," he finally said.

"I'm not too fond of her myself, Rafael," she said with a rueful chuckle and then decided to drop the subject of Olivia Spencer. "Do you want coffee before you go back to town?"

He shook his head. "No, I better get going before it gets dark," he said.

"All right," she said in agreement. "It's getting dark earlier now."

"Winter is coming," he said darkly and put on his coat.

She followed him outside. Rafe had stored the wagon in the barn and her gelding was contentedly munching on hay in his stall. While Rafe saddled his horse, she spent a few minutes getting to know hers.

"Do you have a name for him?" Rafe asked.

"Hmm," she said, thinking. "His color reminds me of cayenne or paprika, so maybe Pimentón, or Píme for short." She stroked the horse's muzzle. "What do you think, guapo? Do you like that name?"

The horse nickered and nodded his head as if answering her question.

Rafe laughed. "Leave it to you, Mama, to name your horse after a cooking ingredient."

"What can I say, mi hijo," she laughed. "It's who I am."

"It's a good name," he said. "And he's a good horse. Mr. Fields bought him from a breeder in Cheyenne with a reputation for good stock."

"Please thank Mr. Fields for me," she said.

Richardson came out of his corner of the barn. He was holding his antlers in one hand and his plate in the other.

"Did you eat well, Richardson?" she asked, taking the plate from him.

He nodded. "Thank you, Miss Rivera."

"Are you comfortable in here?"

"Yes," he said. "Thank you for letting me stay."

"Thank you for your help," she said in return. "I'm afraid I don't know much about farming or raising livestock."

"Not much to know," he said, shrugging his bony shoulders. "Just hard work."

"That I'm not afraid of," she said. "Please let me know if there's anything you need."

"All right," he said.

Natalia followed Rafe out of the barn, then gave him a hug. "Thanks for coming, Rafael."

"It was no trouble, Mama," he said. "I'll come early Sunday morning to escort you to church, if that's all right with you."

"I'll look forward to it," she said and stepped back to allow him to mount. "Be careful."

"I will," he said and tipped his hat to her. "Good bye, Mama."

She watched him ride away and then looked at the sky. Storm clouds were beginning to gather over the ridge and she shivered as she realized the temperature was dropping. She suspected they were about to get the first storm of the season. Pulling her shawl tighter against herself, she headed back into the warm house.

Olivia opened the door and saw Gus standing outside. His face was grim. She stepped aside to let him in. He walked into the room and placed his hat on her writing desk.

"Did you see Phillip?" she asked quietly.

"No," he answered. He glanced through the open door to Emma's room. Her daughter was studiously bent over the schoolwork Mrs. Bullock had sent over, Olivia too fearful to let Emma out of her sight. Gus watched his niece for a moment, and then walked to the window. The lamplighters were making their way down the thoroughfare, lighting the torches against the deepening gloom. "Alan was at the ranch, though," Gus continued. "Very proud of his accomplishments, I might add."

"He always has been a smug cocksucker," Olivia said.

"Is that why you married him?" Gus asked, glancing at her. A smile played on his lips under his mustache.

"One of many reasons, none of which related to any sort of affection on my part for him," she quipped with a small chuckle. She tilted a head in thought. "You're nothing like him," she said.

"Thank the good Lord for that," he laughed.

"It's odd how different you are than Phillip," she mused. "He might have been a good man like you are, but Alan's lust for wealth and power has warped him so." She turned to look at her beautiful daughter, thankfully oblivious to all the tension and undercurrents swirling around her.

As if sensing her mother's gaze, Emma looked up and smiled. "I'm hungry, Mommy," she said.

"We'll eat soon, Jellybean," she promised, keeping the panic she had felt since learning of Phillip's escape from justice from her voice. "You finish your school work and I'll get us dinner. All right?"

"Thank you, Mommy," the little girl said and went back to her studies.

Olivia turned back to Gus. "That's why I can't let the fucking Spauldings get their hands on her, Gus. Emma is pure and sweet and innocent. They would destroy that. I can't let that happen."

"No," Gus agreed. "And it won't. I won't let it."

"I feel like you're the only thing standing between me and the darkness," she said. "Between me and Phillip's madness. You're my only friend, Gus."

"You have friends, Olivia," he said softly.

"Not like you," she said, thinking of her association with Al Swearengen. Al would do a lot for her, she knew, but only as long as it coincided with his own interests, whatever they may be. "I mean just the fact that you're here instead of enjoying your honeymoon with your new bride speaks to a high measure."

"Natalia is a patient woman, she'll wait as long as she has to," Gus said. "Right now, there is nowhere else I have to be."

She breathed deeply at his words and glanced out the window he was standing near. She almost expected to see Phillip Spaulding riding down the thoroughfare at the head of a column of hired thugs coming to take Emma from her. Then she noticed the tired slump of the marshal's shoulders and realized he was as exhausted as she was.

"Will you join Emma and me for supper?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'll just go next door to freshen up first if I may?" he asked.

"Of course," she said and after letting him out of her suite, she went to order their meal.

Despite her weariness, Emma's enthusiasm gave Olivia enough energy to get through the meal. Emma adored having the extra attention from her uncle Gus and to his credit the marshal utterly charmed the little girl. Watching their interactions, Olivia couldn't help the fond smile on her face.

After supper, Gus helped Emma write a letter to her sister Ava while Olivia reviewed the day's receipts from the hotel. Despite the chaos in her personal life, business was good. Deadwood was a booming town and that was reflected in her net worth. Unfortunately, so far it hadn't helped her keep the Spauldings away from her daughter.

By the time Emma's bedtime arrived, Olivia was feeling her exhaustion, but she gamely put on a brave face for her daughter.

"Good night, Mommy," Emma said as she snuggled under the covers.

Olivia leaned down to kiss her daughter's perfect cheek. "Good night, sweetheart," she whispered.

Emma looked expectantly at Gus who was standing in the open doorway and held out her arms. Gus walked into the room with a smile and leaned down to kiss his niece's cheek. Emma squeezed Gus's neck for a moment, then let go. "Good night, Uncle Gus," she said, giggling as Gus's whiskers tickled her cheek. "Thank you for helping me to write to Ava."

"Sure," he said. "Good night, baby."

Emma rolled on to her side and closed her eyes. Olivia watched her a moment and then closed the door almost all the way. She made her way to the table with the whiskey bottle and, without asking, poured them both a drink. She handed one to Gus.

She studied his face as he sipped the liquor. The strong lines of his features were softened by the warm glow of the oil lamp and she felt a swelling of emotion filling her heart. "Stay with me tonight," she whispered.

Dark eyes turned to capture her own and Olivia could see the infinite sadness within and knew that although he wanted to, his principles would not allow it. Silently, Gus drained the glass and set it gently on the table. He leaned over and kissed her cheek as he had his niece's. Olivia closed her eyes and breathed in his warm, masculine scent.

"Good night," he said softly and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Warm tears fell silently down her cheeks.

Alan Spaulding sat in the plush wingback chair and puffed on his expensive cigar. Sitting across from him in an identical chair was his beloved son. Phillip's eyes reflected the flickering flames of the fire burning warmly in the big fireplace.

"Now son," Alan started. "It's very important you stay out of Deadwood until the agents arrive."

"I thought you said I was free to come home," Phillip said with a frown. He was holding a whiskey in his hand and Alan could see his son's knuckles tightening around the glass.

"You are," he answered. "I've spent a great deal of money to keep you safe from the law, but you are still not safe from cocksuckers like Al Swearengen who would be all too happy to cut your throat. I'm afraid that Mr. Li is simply not enough to protect you. You'd best wait until our agents arrive."

"I want to see Emma," Phillip said and Alan closed his eyes to gather his patience.

"I understand, son," he said. "But please do as I say. It won't be for much longer."

Phillip stared at the amber liquid in his glass and then drained it in one swallow. Placing it on the table next to his chair, he stood up.

"I'm going to bed," he announced. "It's going to be good to sleep in one for a fucking change."

"Good night, son," Alan said and then took another deep puff as he looked into the fire. He had made his move and now it was Olivia's turn to respond. He was starting to enjoy this game with his former wife.

Olivia knocked on the door to the suite next to hers and waited until Gus opened it. He stood there a moment looking at her and then stepped aside to let her in.

"I don't suppose you care overmuch about the propriety of entering a married man's room," he said with a wry grin.

"Fuck propriety," she said with a growl and jabbed the air with her finger. "It's my fucking hotel. I'll do whatever I want and any cocksucker who says otherwise can go fuck himself."

Gus laughed. "Well, I'd say you're ready to deal with Judge Russo."

"It's good, right?" she asked not surprised he recognized she was posturing. "Not too over the top?"

"No, no," he said shaking his head. "You almost scared the shit out of me. Russo hasn't got a chance."

"Good, good," she said absently and looked out the window. The thoroughfare and buildings were covered in a thick layer of snow that had fallen overnight. The wan morning sky was heavy with clouds and more snow was coming down hard. She didn't relish the thought of having to go out in the storm. She thought about fucking Natalia all warm and snug inside her new home and felt a stab of resentment against the other woman.

Gus strapped on his gun belt and donned his coat. "Did you sleep well last night?" he asked. "Your color is better this morning.

"Better than I did the fucking night before," she said with a bark of sarcastic laughter. "I sent Gregory over to the courthouse to tell Russo to expect us, but he returned and said it's closed because of the storm. The schoolhouse is as well. Remy's here with Jane watching Emma."

"Good," Gus said peeking out the window as he put on his hat. "It looks like it's getting worse, too." He looked at her. "Make sure you're warm enough."

"I will," she said.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be."

The fierce wind followed Richardson's entrance into the kitchen, blowing rock-hard ice pellets through the door. Richardson pushed the door closed behind him, then turned to face Natalia with an almost stunned expression on his face.

Natalia had to suppress laughing at the snow-covered man. "Are you all right?" she asked and on his nod, added. "And the animals?"

"They're fine," he answered. "The barn is well-insulated. I started the fire in the smokehouse oven and the chickens are all huddled against the bricks. They looked happy to me."

"Good," she said, relieved that her husband had made a good investment. In the short time she had occupied the farmhouse, she had realized she could not have received a better wedding present.

In the middle of the night, as she lay sleepless in her empty marriage bed, she listened to the win screaming across the eaves and was reassured by the sturdiness of the house's construction. The Iowan family may have run from the rigors of life in the Black Hills, but they obviously had been the type of people who put quality first and care into their belongings. Natalia had sent up a prayer of gratitude to them.

"How bad is it outside?" she asked Richardson, motioning him to sit at the table. He shrugged out of his coat and scarf and hung them and his hat on the coat tree near the door. She ladled him a bowl of hot stew and set it down as he sat.

"Thank you, Miz Aitoro," he said and picked up the spoon. "This storm won't last long," he answered her question after taking a bite of the hearty stew. "Maybe two, three days."

"This storm?" she asked, worriedly.

"Yes," he drawled. "It's going to be a hard winter."

"How do you know?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Just do," he said.

Natalia nodded thoughtfully. Long winters were not something new to her. Chicago was one of the coldest cities in the Midwest and she and her son had not always had the warmest places to live during the cold months. However, her first winter here was spent in town and she had been so caught up in the drama with Nicky and his breakup with Harley that she had barely paid attention. However, she suspected that this year, winter was going to play a more important role in their lives.

"Did you start on the hams?" she asked, thinking about the crates of fresh meat that Rafe had delivered with the supplies.

Richardson nodded. "Yes, and the bacon," he answered. "I'll get to the salt beef and jerky also."

"Do you think we should freeze some in the pond?" she asked.

"Hmm." Richardson thought a moment, then shook his head. "Not yet, but maybe by November we won't take the risk of a sudden thaw."

"November, eh?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "It's going to be a long winter."

Natalia sipped her coffee and chewed on the thought. She hoped by the time they were permanently snowed-in, she would have more to keep her company than the old man.

After Olivia and he had entered the house and shaken off the snow, Gus looked up at a surprised Mrs. Russo who had let them into the house.

"Our thanks for letting us in, ma'am," he said tipping his hat.

"Goodness Marshal!" the elderly woman with the thin gray hair exclaimed with a thick Southern accent. "Why ever did you venture forth in this horrible weather?" Her gaze switched between him and Olivia who was removing her heavy outer coat.

"We have important business to discuss with His Honor," he answered.

"Oh my," she said, putting a hand over her heart. "It certainly must be important if you had the need to brave this storm to call on my son." She motioned for them to follow her from the foyer into the parlor and then she clapped her hands imperiously. "Daphne!" she called.

A young dark-skinned woman dressed in a simple flannel dress entered the parlor and waited.

"Daphne, we have guests," Mrs. Russo said. "Please bring a tray to Judge Russo's study and be quick about it!"

"Yes, mistress," the servant said quietly and turned away.

"Please, Marshall, Miss Spencer, come this way," the old woman said and headed down a different corridor.

Olivia leaned close to Gus and whispered, "D'ya think this old bag heard about the Emancipation Proclamation yet?" she asked.

"Shh," Gus admonished, trying to hide an amused smile.

"I mean, really?" Olivia persisted. "Slavery ended twenty years ago."

"Olivia," Gus said and to his relief she dropped it.

At the end of the hallway, Mrs. Russo knocked once and then opened the door.

"Vincent?" she said and motioned for them to enter. "You have visitors."

Judge Russo looked up from the paperwork he was perusing on his desk as Gus and Olivia entered the room. "Well, well," he said. "Marshal Aitoro and Miss Spencer. To what do I owe this wonderful, yet unexpected pleasure?"

Olivia turned to Mrs. Russo and said, "Thank you so much for your hospitality, Mrs. Russo."

The elderly woman blinked at the obvious dismissal and then nodded. "I'll see that Daphne brings in your refreshments as soon as possible," she said. "Please do not hesitate to ask for anything you might need."

"Thank you," Gus said.

Olivia waited until the woman had closed the door behind herself and then she turned on the judge. "What the fuck, Vince?" she growled, stalking up to his desk.

"Now, now, Olivia," Russo said, putting his hands up as if to ward her off.

"Don't try to placate me, you cocksucker," she shot back and Gus had to suppress a smile.

Russo turned to Gus. "Are you going to let her speak to me that way, Marshal?" he asked.

"Vince, you let Phillip Spaulding go free," he said, ignoring the question.

"Not me!" Russo protested. "That was Jarry."

"And the custody suit?" Olivia sneered.

"Oh well, yes, that was me," he answered with a sly grin. "Nice work, don't you think?"

"You motherfucker!" Olivia said.

"Olivia, Olivia," Russo said, shaking his head. "Alan Spaulding requested me to review his claim to custody of your daughter. I have not done so…yet."

Gus knew what was coming next and didn't have long to wait. He felt a twinge of unease for his presence here, but he owed it to Olivia to back her play despite the illegalities involved.

"So how much is it going to cost me for you to lose his claim?" Olivia asked.

Russo smirked. "Alan was quite generous."

Olivia cursed under her breath and reached into her handbag, but stopped when a knock from the serving girl interrupted. They all waited while Daphne laid out the refreshments and then silently left the room. Gus watched as Olivia took a deep breath and then pulled out a small, but heavy pouch and dropped it on to the desk in front of the judge.

Russo eyed the pouch as if assessing its contents. "That's a good start," he drawled. "However, I'm sure you can do better."

Olivia glared at him for a long moment, then reached into her bag again and pulled out a second pouch.

Russo smiled. "Very nice," he said with a nod. "That will do the trick. When next Alan inquires about the progress of his case, I will endeavor to delay as long as possible."

"Make sure that delay is permanent," she said, the warning in her voice clear. "I need to concentrate on protecting Emma and I can't waste energy fighting a custody suit."

"Then perhaps a little added incentive might ensure that, Olivia," Russo said and Gus inwardly rolled his eyes as Russo's gaze flicked over Olivia's body in a blatant leer and then repeated the action with Gus. "In fact, if you wish to save a bit of your gold, I'm sure the three of us can come to some other arrangement." Russo slid one of the pouches toward Olivia.

"You really are a cocksucker, aren't you, Vince," Olivia said, her voice laced with wonder.

Russo smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "What's the point of gaining power if you don't enjoy the benefits that come with it?"

"Son of a bitch," Olivia swore under her breath. "Keep the fucking gold, Vince," she said. "And keep the fucking Spauldings away from Emma."

"I will utilize every legal trick I can on your behalf," Russo said agreeably with a bow of his head.

"Come on, Gus," Olivia said, turning on her heels and flinging the door open. Gus looked at Russo for a moment. The judge raised his eyebrow questioningly. Gus shook his head and then followed Olivia out of the room.

The blizzard lasted three days, as Richardson had accurately predicted. The snow fall had been fast and fierce and the wind howling through the gulch had at times, raised the hackles on her neck from the sound. Then Indian summer had returned and the creek swelled dramatically with snow melt, giving Natalia a hint of what would come in the spring. She was glad the farmstead's buildings were situated far enough away from the creek that they wouldn't have to be too concerned with flooding.

Natalia also sent a silent thank you to God for sending her the old man. Richardson truly was a godsend. Despite his age, he possessed a wiry strength that was vital in tending to the animals and his skill with preserving the fresh meat Nicky had sent had impressed even her. During one visit to the barn to check on her horse, Natalia had spied him with his nose buried in a book. He tried to hide it, but not before she saw it was a copy of Voltaire's Candide. She wondered if it was a translated version or in the original French. Considering what she had observed of the man, she would not have been surprised if it was the latter.

Once the majority of the snow had melted, she and Richardson had ventured into the hills surrounding the farmstead in search of wild buffalo berry bushes. Normally very sour, the freezing temperatures had sweetened the dark red berries which reminded Natalia of currants. The two of them gathered as much as they could and brought the teeming baskets back to the farmhouse where they spent the next two days making jam, jelly and a relish that, to Natalia's delight, reminded her of cranberry sauce, only with a flavorful tang that left a refreshing tingle on the tongue. At the end of the two days, Natalia eyed the rows of glass jars safely stored in her pantry with immense satisfaction. Other than the eggs her hens had started to lay, the buffalo berry preserves represented the first foodstuffs produced on the Aitoro farm.

As promised, Rafe arrived at the farmstead on Gus's horse early on Sunday morning. Natalia already had breakfast waiting for him and, as she expected on a cold October morning, her son dug into the hearty meal.

"How is the road into town?" she asked as she sat down with a mug of hot coffee.

"Not too bad," Rafe said, chewing a slice of fried ham. "But Mr. Utter said the road to Sturgis is still blocked in as it goes over the ridge."

Natalia nodded, thinking of the narrow track that climbed over the high pass of the gulch. The first time she had traveled over it on the stagecoach coming in to Deadwood, she had closed her eyes against the dizziness she experienced looking down the sheer drop.

"I found an old sled out behind the livery," Rafe continued. "Mr. Fields said I could fix it up. The runners are rusted out, but I've got enough scrap iron lying around to fix it up. I would have had it finished by now, but we've been extra busy with folks boarding their horses because of the storm. I'll bring it out when it's done, Mama."

"That's wonderful, Rafael," she said, then shot to her feet and grabbed a wicker basket from a shelf.

"What are you doing, Mama?" Rafe asked.

"Making a basket for you and Mr. Fields," she answered, as she started to pack the container with some of the preserved food she had.

Rafe chuckled. "Always giving away food, Mama," he said as he stuffed half a slice of ham in his mouth, Natalia noted wryly.

"The sharing of food is an important ritual that binds people together," Natalia said. "For example, look how many times it's mentioned in the New Testament in relation to Our Lord? From the wedding feast where he turned water into wine and the feeding of the multitude to the Last Supper; those were all occasions where Jesus provided sustenance for the body as well as the soul." She looked up at his soft chuckle. "What?" she asked.

"You," he said, wiping his mouth with the linen cloth. "You never miss an opportunity for a lesson, no matter how old I am."

"I'll be a toothless old woman and you with grandchildren of your own and I'll still be giving you lessons, Rafael Rivera," she said with a laugh. She tucked a cloth over the top of the basket to protect its contents. "You finish cleaning up while I go get ready for church, mi hijo, and then we can leave."

"All right, Mama," he said.

Natalia enjoyed the ride into town. The day was chilly, but as the sun rose higher over the hills, the morning grew pleasantly warm. She sat next to Rafe on the front seat of the buckboard and relaxed against the back rest. Rafe gave Píme free rein and the young gelding's eager pace kicked up a breeze that was pleasant against Natalia's face.

As usual, the streets of Deadwood were filled with pedestrians, wagons and horses. Not even the Lord's Day could curtail the commerce of the boom town. Rafe carefully guided the wagon to the church, only pausing at Aunt Lou's rooming house to let off Richardson. The lanky old man nimbly jumped down from the buckboard and gave them a jaunty wave before disappearing inside.

Gus was standing in front of the church talking quietly with Reverend Lewis, but hurried down the stairs to help her down from the wagon. While they waited for Rafe to park the wagon, Natalia took the time to observe her husband.

"You're looking well, Mr. Aitoro," she said, quietly.

"As are you, Mrs. Aitoro," he replied, his eyes bright. "All is well at the farm?"

"They are, thank you for asking," she said. "Richardson is of great assistance. Thank you for sending him."

"I'm glad he's working out well," he said. "The animals fared well in the storm?"

"They did," she answered. "The barn and hen house is well-insulated as is the farmhouse itself. You made a good purchase, Nicky, but I'm not too pleased with the large debt it incurred."

"My wages as marshal will easily take care of the payments to the bank," he said. "Any proceeds from the farm can be used to reduce the principal."

Natalia thought for a moment. "You're expecting to turn a profit right away?" she asked.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "But I do expect to turn one within two years. In the spring, I plan on clearing as much land as possible and planting wheat."

"Alfalfa," she said firmly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Alfalfa," she repeated. "Wheat is a good crop, but we can fetch higher prices for alfalfa."

He blinked in amazement. "It's a feed crop for cattle, isn't it?" he asked.

She nodded. "The ranchers pay a fortune to have feed imported into the Hills for their cattle. If there was a steady source of feed locally, they will pay top dollar for that."

"You're right," he said. "Will it grow in the hills though?"

"Sheriff Bullock seems to think it will," she answered.

"I will consult with him next time I have a moment," he said. "Thank you for the suggestion, my dear. You are quite astute."

"Isn't that why you married me?" she said with a wry grin.

"Among other reasons," he laughed.

Rafe ran up to them, only slightly out of breath. "Good morning, Father," he said to Nicky.

"Morning, son. Are you ready for church?" he asked.

"Yes sir," he said and offered his arm to her. She took it and then linked her other arm through Nicky's as they climbed the steps into the church.

After the service, the three of them took a leisurely walk through the town to Aunt Lou's. Inside, the big woman greeted Natalia with a warm kiss and then led the three of them to a free table. The dining room was, as usual, packed with diners of all colors and social status. Aunt Lou's cooking was renowned even beyond Deadwood and people came from all the surrounding communities and beyond.

"What's special today, Aunt Lou?" Natalia asked the cook.

"Praise Jesus!" the cook exclaimed clasping her hands together. "I's got pork roasted with sweet potatoes and seasoned with ginger and cinnamon. Sound good?"

"Sounds wonderful, Aunt Lou," Nicky said and looked at her and Rafe for agreement. "We'll have that, please."

"Comin' right up!" she said and waddled off to the kitchen.

After their food was served and they had said grace, the conversation consisted mostly of the events of the past week, with Rafe recounting the work he had done at the livery as well as his progress on the sled. Natalia told them about making the preserves and Nicky was impressed.

"I can't wait to try it," he said, using a piece of bread to mop up the juices from the roasted pork. "I didn't even know those berries were edible. The ones I've tasted were horribly sour on the tongue."

"Neither did I," she said. "It was Richardson who told me about them. He said the frost sweetens the fruit. I was pleasantly surprised."

"I look forward to sampling it," Nicky said.

"Me too," Rafe said. "Did you include a jar in the basket for the general and I?"

"I did," she answered.

"Thank you, Mama," he said.

Aunt Lou's serving girl came to remove their plates and asked if they wanted dessert.

"None for me please," Rafe said and placed his napkin on the table. "If I may be excused for now? Mama, I'll return in an hour to escort you home."

"Of course," she said.

Nicky ordered apple pie for both of them as Natalia watched Rafe walk over to Aunt Lou and say something to her. The big cook nodded jovially, and then opened the pastry case and took out a small fruit tartlet. She quickly wrapped it in paper and tied it closed with a bow and handed it to Rafe. He handed her a coin and then quickly left the dining room.

She turned to Nicky and asked, "What was that?"

He laughed. "Our son is going courting."

"Really?" she asked, surprised. Rafe had never mentioned being interested in a girl before. "Who?"

"A lovely young girl named Ashlee Wolfe," he said. "Have you met her?"

"No," she answered. "But I have met her mother. She's…not a pleasant woman."

Nicky laughed. "You're too kind in your assessment, my dear," he said. "Doris Wolfe is not well-liked in town, but her daughter fortunately does not take after her."

They were silent as the girl placed their plates in front of them, each overlarge slice of apple pie a vision of perfection. Natalia eagerly used her fork to cut into the flaky crust and brought a bite to her mouth. She closed her eyes in pleasure.

"Oh that's good," she said.

Nicky nodded in agreement and quickly took a second bite.

"Is it serious?" she asked. "Rafe and this girl?"

"I don't think so," he said. "They're both too young, of course. I think he just enjoys spending time with her."

"He must if he endures Doris Wolfe hovering over them as I'm sure she does when he calls," she said.

Nicky laughed. "Good point," he agreed.

They finished their meal and Natalia went outside to sit on the porch swing while Nicky paid for their fare. He joined her and lit a cigar before taking her hand in his. They sat in silence for a while.

"Nicky," she finally said. "What's happening with Olivia?"

He sighed. "At the moment, we're just waiting for Alan and Phillip to make their next move," he answered. "Alan is suing for custody of Emma, but Olivia bribed Judge Russo into burying the papers."

"What do you think they'll do?" she asked.

"I have no idea," he said.

"Is it worth it, Nicky?" she asked unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"What?"

"Abandoning your family for that woman?" she clarified.

"I haven't abandoned you, Natalia," he said. "You have to understand that as a U.S. Marshal, my job will, on occasion, take me away from home. Such as when I have to travel throughout the territory."

"That's not the same, Nicky, and you know it," she pointed out. "You are not on marshal business. This is personal."

"No, it's not," he said.

"There are others who can protect Emma," she said. "Sheriff Bullock and his deputies, for example."

"And they are doing all they can," he said and puffed on his cigar. "Natalia, I made a promise to Olivia and I will see this through until the end."

"What end is that?" she asked.

"Until my brother is either in prison where he belongs or dead," he said and Natalia felt a chill go down her spine.

"In the meantime, our lives are on hold," she said.

"Not really," he said. "Look at all you accomplished this week at the farm."

"That was just busywork," she said. "There is always a lot of work to do and I don't mind it, but you need to be sleeping in our bed and not with that woman."

"I am not sleeping with Olivia Spencer," he said. "And I have no intentions of doing so. Why don't you trust me?"

"I believe you, Nicky and I trust you to keep your word, but why can't you protect Emma while living with me?"

"It's easier to do that when I'm close to her and not miles outside of town," he said with an edge in his voice.

Natalia sighed. "You gave me a beautiful home, Nicky," she said. "But I'm afraid it'll never be a home as long as I'm there all by myself. It's just an empty shell devoid of love and warmth."

He squeezed her hand gently. "Soon, my dear," he said. "Soon."

Natalia sighed again, breathing deeply of the chilly air as they both waited for Rafe's return and the time for them to part again.

"I hope so, Nicky," she said in a whisper. "I can only hope so."

Dan Dority was leaning against the open door of The Gem and puffing on a cigar as he scanned the traffic moving along the thoroughfare. Saturday nights were always the busiest nights of the week since many of the working hoopleheads were off the following day. And when the whores were busy and the liquor was flowing free, his boss was happy and for Dan, that meant he had less aggravation in his life.

Something drew his attention to the street and he saw a long line of torches being carried by men on horseback riding into the gulch.

"Motherfucker," he muttered and quickly walked into the saloon.

"What's up, Dan?" Johnny Burns asked from his position behind the bar.

"My fucking aggravation," he growled and stomped his way up the stairs to throw open Al's door.

"That's a good fucking way to get your fucking throat slit, Dan," Al growled from behind the desk.

Dan shook off the warning. "You may want to see this, boss," he said and strode over to the balcony doors.

Al threw his glasses on the desk and followed, grabbing his coat from the rack.

"What the fuck?" Al asked a moment later as both men watched the column of nearly two dozen men ride into town.

"Looks like that cocksucker Phillip Spaulding hired hisself his own private army." Dan said and chanced a glance at Al. The man's eyes were narrowed and his jaw clenched in anger as they watched Spaulding's progress down the thoroughfare. "Fuckhead must think he's fucking Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon with the pace he's setting," Dan continued. "Want I should take a shot at 'im, Al?"

"No," Al said. "Send Johnny to alert Bullock. Then you and Adams get over the Beacon and warn the marshal. You back his play and you better fucking make sure that Olivia and the little one are not harmed. You got that?"

"Got it, boss," he answered bobbing his head.

"Then fucking go!" Al ordered.

Dan turned on his boot heels and quickly left the office, trying to push past Jewel limping her way down the stairs.

"Get the fuck out of my way, Jewel," he yelled.

"What's your fucking hurry?" the cleaning woman yelled back.

"Just move," he said, finally sliding by her on the landing. "Johnny! Go find Bullock and bring him to the Beacon. Adams, you're with me." He reached behind the bar and grabbed the shotgun stored there. Out of the corner of his eye he noted Adams grabbing the other shotgun from the auxiliary bar.

"Don't you want your dinner?" Jewel shouted from the stairs. Dan ignored her.

"Spaulding's heading for the Beacon," Dan explained as the two men raced down the sidewalk toward the hotel.

"What's the cocksucker want?" Silas asked.

"Fuck if I know," Dan replied. "But Al wants Olivia and her girl kept safe and that's what we need to do."

"All right," Adams said in his laconic way.

Dan eyed the moving column of horse mounted men riding down the thoroughfare, forcing pedestrians and other riders out of their way. Spaulding rode at the head, an insane grin plastered on his pale face. While Dan watched, Spaulding said something to the man riding next to him. The other man laughed as Spaulding kicked his horse into going faster.

"Come on," Dan said, turning down a side street and quickening his pace. "Let's go in the back way so the cocksuckers don't see us."

The kitchen staff of the Beacon's restaurant looked up in startlement as the two armed men burst through the doors. Ignoring the protests of the head chef, they rushed through the kitchen and into the dining room. Dan paused a moment as he scanned the room, first noting Bullock's nigger deputy sitting at the bar and then his gaze focused on Olivia sitting with her daughter and Marshal Aitoro.

Olivia's eyes flashed anger and then fear as he and Adams approached. Dan looked at the marshal and then at Emma and back to Aitoro again.

"Emma, honey," Olivia said and Dan could tell she was trying to control the fear in her voice. "Please go upstairs with Deputy Boudreau."

"But we're still eating, Mommy," the little girl protested.

"I'll have Jane bring your dinner upstairs along with a big piece of almond cake, all right?"

"All right, Mommy," Emma replied and hopped off her chair.

Aitoro motioned over the deputy who quickly walked over and held out his hand for Emma to take. Dan was aware that all attention in the dining room was focused on the exiting pair. While such drama was a regular occurrence at the Gem, he was sure it was rare here among the luxurious elegance of the Beacon.

Olivia turned to Dan and barked, "What the fuck is going on, Dan?"

Before Dan could answer, sounds of a commotion came from the adjourning lobby. "Spaulding," Dan said succinctly and Olivia's face turned white.

"Stay here," Aitoro ordered Olivia.

Dan and Adams followed the marshal to the lobby where Phillip Spaulding and two of his men were trying to get past the Beacon's concierge. To the effeminate cocksucker's credit, he was doing a good job of holding them off.

Phillip noticed their approach and a broad smile broke over his face.

"Ah, it's my brother the bastard," he said to the marshal. "It has been a while, hasn't it, Gus?"

"What are you doing here, Phillip?" Aitoro asked, moving his hand to his sidearm.

Spaulding's eye caught the movement and Dan's grip tightened on the barrel of his shotgun. Then Spaulding's smile widened again as he said, "Why, I'm here to get Emma, of course."

"No fucking way, you son of a bitch!"

Dan groaned inwardly when he realized Olivia had ignored the marshal's simple fucking order.

"Well, hello Olivia," Spaulding drawled, looking at his ex-wife. "Thank you for taking good care of sweet Emma while I was away, but I can take it from here. Please get her for me."

"You don't have custody, Phillip," Aitoro said.

Spaulding turned back to his brother. "Our dear father is speeding his way to the federal court in Illinois as we speak," he said. "So it's only a matter of time before that court grants me the custody. I figured my men and I might as well fetch dear Emma now so we can start to get to know each other."

"Bullshit," Olivia said. "This is Dakota, not Illinois so who gives a fuck?"

"Exactly, Olivia," Spaulding said. "This is the territory of Dakota. And since Emma was born in Illinois and you took her out of the United States without my permission, you violated the terms of the custody agreement."

"That agreement was signed before you became a fugitive so you broke those same terms first, you stupid fuck," Olivia growled.

"Yet now my good name and reputation is restored," Spaulding purred with a satisfied grin and Dan wanted to blast it off the cocksucker's face. "So you see, Olivia," Spaulding continued, "it's only a matter of time before my father and his formidable attorney will convince the federal judge that it is you who is in the wrong and therefore, Emma is mine to have and to hold forever."

Dan watched as Olivia's face blanched as she grasped at Aitoro. "Can he do that?" she asked the marshal.

Aitoro's face seemed set in stone except for the hard clench of his jaw. "With a sufficient amount of gold, I would imagine he can."

"As our dear father races eastward on his valiant quest, the Hills are alive with the sound of clinking gold." Phillip's smirk nearly overtook his face.

The doors of the Beacon flew open letting in a blast of cold air and the three figures of Sheriff Bullock flanked by Charlie Utter and Frank Cooper. Johnny Burns trailed behind them and Dan was glad to see Johnny wasn't armed. The last thing they needed in this powder keg of a lobby was a perpetual spark like Johnny blowing them all to hell.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Bullock barked.

"I've come to get my daughter, Sheriff," Spaulding said and Dan wondered if the man really believed they would allow him to take the little one even with the group of armed cocksuckers he brought with him, or if Spaulding really was insane as the talk in town claimed.

"That's not happening, Phillip," Aitoro said through his teeth. "Emma stays here."

"Sheriff, I want this man off my premises," Olivia said. "He and his men are trespassing."

Bullock turned to Spaulding. "You heard the lady, Mr. Spaulding," he said. "It's time for you to leave."

"I would really like to discuss the genuineness of the term 'lady' as it applies to Olivia Spencer, Sheriff, but I really am growing impatient." Spaulding turned back to Aitoro. "Fuck Olivia all you want, brother, but don't stand between me and my daughter. I give you my word that you will regret it."

"Did you just threaten a U.S. Marshal, Mr. Spaulding?" Bullock asked.

Spaulding slowly turned to face the sheriff. Dan worriedly glanced at Adams who gave a slight shake of his head.

"I don't appreciate you poking your nose into my business, Bullock," Phillip said, his former playful tone gone. "This is the last time I say this – bring me my daughter. Now!"

Dan thought for a moment the windows and doors were going to explode from the built up pressure inside the lobby. Then Bullock quickly stepped forward and with one hand grabbed Spaulding by the ear and twisted. As the blond-haired cocksucker's face squirmed in pain, Bullock deftly removed Spaulding's sidearm from its holster. The two bodyguards moved for their weapons, but in perfect synch, he and Adams raised their shotguns.

"Hold still, you cocksuckers," Dan growled.

"Let me go!" Spaulding cried and Dan rejoiced at the pain in his voice.

"You're under arrest for trespassing, threatening a federal peace officer and disturbing the peace," Bullock hissed. He looked at Spaulding's men. "You assholes will stay out of this if you know what's good for you."

One of the men motioned to the other and then both left the lobby. Bullock handed Spaulding's gun to Utter and then grabbed the squirming man by the upper arm and marched him out of the door, eliciting a grunt of pain. Utter and Cooper, their own hand guns drawn, followed the sheriff.

Outside, Dan saw that the two bodyguards were talking quietly with the other men who had ridden into town with Spaulding. Everyone in the street watched as Bullock led Spaulding to the jail.

"That's a sight I would of paid real gold for," Adams said from beside him.

"You'n me both," Johnny muttered.

"Excuse me, Marshal," Dan said to Aitoro. "You do realize Bullock can't hold that cocksucker long."

"I know," Aitoro replied, not looking at Dan.

"Al's gonna wanna know what Miss Spencer's plans are," Dan persisted.

"While I appreciate your help this evening, I respectfully suggest this is none of Al Swearengen's fucking business." Aitoro turned the full force of his gaze on Dan.

"Gus, it's all right," Olivia said. "Thank you, Dan and tell Al that I'll let him know as soon as I know."

"All right," Dan said with a stern nod. "At least some one around here can recognize when a body puts their life on the fucking line backing the play of an unappreciative cocksucker."

Aitoro simply stared at him.

"Thank Al for sending his men for me, will you Dan?" Olivia asked.

Dan finally tore his gaze away from the marshal and said to Olivia, "Sure. Send word if you need help again and we'll come a-runnin'."

With a signal to Adams and Johnny, they stomped down the sidewalk to the Gem.

"Dan," Johnny said when they were halfway back to the saloon. "I recognize some of those cocksuckers from when Hearst hired 'em."

"Pinkertons," Adam noted.

"Pinkertons," Dan agreed. "Al ain't gonna fuckin' like this development, I'll tell you that."

"Al sure does get irritated when his peace is disturbed, especially by Pinkertons."

"Then I think I'll let you be the one to tell Al they're back in town, Johnny," Dan said and was amused at the look of alarm that washed over Johnny's face.

After Bullock, still leading a cursing Phillip by the ear and followed by the two deputies, disappeared behind the crowd in the thoroughfare, Gus turned to Olivia and said, "It's cold out here, we better get inside."

Olivia nodded and together they entered the hotel.

Gregory was nervously standing by the concierge's stand. "I'm so sorry, Miss Spencer," he stuttered. "But the three of them were inside before I could stop them."

"It's all right," she said. "You did fine and fortunately no one was hurt."

"I don't think we've seen the last of him," Gregory said.

"No," Olivia said darkly. "Gregory, please have Emma's meal sent up to her and whatever sweet Chef has on hand tonight."

"Right away, Miss Spencer," he replied and Olivia suspected he was happy to have a task to do.

"I need a drink," she said to Gus and walked purposefully into the dining room and up to the bar. Without a word, the bartender put a bottle of the Beacon's finest scotch and two shot glasses in front of them. Gus uncorked the bottle and poured.

Olivia closed her eyes and took a drink. The smooth liquor slid down her throat warming her, but not entirely abating the cold fear the encounter with Phillip had caused. She breathed out a heavy sigh and said, "If Alan returns with a warrant as my fucking ex-husband has threatened, will we have to turn Emma over to them?"

"Yes," he said through his teeth. "As a U.S. Marshal, I am duty-bound to uphold a federal court ruling."

"Duty-bound," she repeated and ran a hand through her hair. "I have to take Emma and leave Deadwood, don't I?"

Gus was quiet for a moment. "Maybe it would be best, just for a while," he said. "With Phillip able to come and go as he pleases, it might be a good idea to stay away from him. To put Emma as far away from the reach of the Spauldings as possible."

Olivia felt tears track slow progress down her cheeks and she wiped it away angrily. She had worked so fucking hard to build a life for her and her daughters here in Deadwood. It was just so Goddamned unfair.

"Where will you go?" Gus asked quietly.

She took a deep breath. "New Orleans," she answered. "Ava is already there and if I need to, I can book passage to San Cristobal. I still have plenty of contacts there who can help us disappear."

"I'm going with you," Gus said.

Olivia stared at him in shock. "To New Orleans?"

"No." He shook his head. "Only as far as Yankton so I can see you and Emma safely out of the territory. I'll arrange to have a deputy marshal from Missouri meet your steamer. You and Emma will have protection all the way to New Orleans."

"What about Natalia?" Olivia asked. "She's not going to like this development."

"No, but it doesn't matter," he answered. "She's the wife of a U.S. Marshal and she'll have to learn to live with it."

Gus poured them a second drink as the tears continued to stream down her face.

While Dan recounted the events of the night, Al sat quietly at his desk, a toothpick rolling languidly around in his mouth.

"So what do you think Olivia's gonna do, Al?" Dan concluded his tale with a question.

"Where are Spaulding's hired cocksuckers now?" he returned.

Dan shifted in his chair. "Couple of 'em headed over to Utter's and are just standing about in the cold," he answered. "Rest of 'em headed out of town, my guess is they're going back to Spaulding's ranch."

Al nodded thoughtfully. "Have Davy keep an eye on the jail," he ordered. "Spaulding's gonna be sporting a massive case of pissed off when Bullock releases him. His next move will, I strongly suspect, be violent."

"All right, Al," Dan said and left him to his thoughts.

"Fucking Pinkertons," Al muttered to himself.

Natalia glanced over at her unexpected guest sleeping in Rafe's bed. Earlier, she had found Jane Cannary lying on the ground near the duck pond in a drunken stupor, one booted foot tied to a rope attached to the saddle horn of her grazing horse. Together, she and Richardson had managed to get Jane to the house and up the stairs, Jane muttering profanities the entire way.

After sending Richardson to Deadwood to let Joanie Stubbs know her partner was safe, Natalia had stripped the filthy clothes from her unconscious friend and then gently bathed her. She had then gone about her day's chores to allow the drunken woman to sleep it off.

Now, late in the evening, Natalia sat in the chair reading a book and occasionally sipping from a mug of tea. Her eyebrows rose as Jane stirred, rolling over in the narrow bed and letting out a dry cough.

"Good evening, Jane," Natalia said and put her book aside as she stood up. She placed a hand against Jane's forehead. The woman was slightly warm, but not feverish. Natalia was relieved the woman had not suffered much from her exposure the night before.

Jane cracked open one eye. The irises in the pale orbs were moving in an attempt to focus on her. "Natalia," she rasped, then violently cleared her throat. "Where the fuck am I?"

"At my house, outside of town," she answered.

Jane groaned as she rolled over and attempted to sit up. Natalia used a gentle hand to help her. "Thank you," Jane whispered and settled back against the headboard. She peeked under the blanket covering her. "I'm assuming from my present decrepit and disrobed state that you discovered me drunk, dragged my sorry carcass here and cleaned me up."

"Precisely right," Natalia said. "I take it this is not an unusual occurrence?"

Jane snorted. "Not for me," she answered. "Regular fucking affliction of the drunkard, although, more often than not, I land in the hands of cocksuckers not inclined to do me a kindness. So I thank you for that."

Natalia frowned. Life was hard enough, especially for women, without having to suffer abuse afflicted on themselves through their own self-depredations.

"Not to sound ungrateful," Jane continued, "but where are my fucking clothes?"

"They're still a little damp from being laundered," Natalia said. She moved over to the side table where she had left a covered bowl draped with a cozy to keep warm. "Here, drink this," she said, handing it to Jane who took it with shaking hands.

"I'm not much one for tea, if that's what this is," Jane said. "Coffee being my drink of choice after hard liquor of course."

"It's beef broth," Natalia said. "I don't think you've eaten for a while and this shouldn't upset your stomach."

Jane sniffed at the bowl tentatively, and then took a small sip. Her eyes closed in appreciation. "Yet again, I have to offer you my fucking gratitude."

"It's all right, Jane," she said and returned to her seat. "We're friends and I want you to know that you are welcome here any time. Joanie, too."

"Never had many women friends," Jane said. "Other than Joanie, that is."

"Yes, but that's different though, isn't it?"

Jane eyed her for a moment and then took a deep sip of her broth. "I suppose you're right on that point." She shrugged. "As a general observation, and this is in no way a judgment on your character, fuck knows a drunken invert such as myself is certainly in no fucking position to judge, but prior to our formal introduction by that cocksucker Charlie Utter, who can, on rare occasion, show a level of astuteness bordering on genius in that regard, it was previously my general opinion, based on various talk by ignorant cocksuckers in town, that you were a pious and God-fearing woman who was living out a life of repentance due to the youthful sin of bearing a bastard out of wedlock." Natalia's eyebrows rose and she blinked at her friend who continued. "Now that our acquaintance has, as you previously mentioned, moved into the realm of friendship, I find you are not of such beliefs and are indeed, of an ilk of the more open-minded."

Natalia smiled. "Mr. Utter isn't the only one with an aptitude for astuteness, Jane, as I believe your observation is not general at all." She paused in thought for a moment, looking out the darkened window. "My parents expected my sisters and me to be dutiful, God-fearing wives and mothers. And growing up, that's what I expected my life to be. Until I met Nicky." She glanced at Jane. "Gus," she added, remembering how her husband had, in his anger, demanded to be called the name he was known as to the rest of the community. Nicky Augustino, the young man she had been so in love with, had been replaced by Gus Aitoro. She had always imagined her life with Nicky, but for the first time, she realized she had no idea how her life would be with Gus and she felt a stab of fear and apprehension.

"The marshal," Jane clarified.

She nodded. "He was Nicolas Augustino in Chicago," she said. "I've always called him Nicky, even after learning he was Gus Aitoro now."

Jane shifted in the bed. "From what I've observed, he's a good man."

"He is," Natalia smiled, warmth filling her heart. "It was my love for Gus that changed everything for me. I lost my home, my family, my heritage, but in return I gained the greatest gift I could ever imagine – my son Rafael. I wouldn't change that for anything." She took a deep breath. "So after going through all that, Jane, I would never judge anyone else for love, no matter what people think they have against it."

Jane eyed her. "So in effect, what you're trying to say is 'fuck society'?"

Natalia burst into happy laughter. "Why, I believe I am, Jane. Fuck society."

"A sentiment I am in complete and utter agreement of." She paused and then asked hopefully, "Got anything to drink?"

Natalia chuckled as she stood up, shaking her head. "Finish your broth and get some sleep, Jane. I'll see you in the morning." Still chuckling, she closed the door behind her.

In the morning, Jane was up before her. Natalia found her friend in the barn, dressed and currying her horse as she cursed at a cowering Richardson.

"Good morning," she said in greeting.

"Mornin'" Jane mumbled.

"Good morning, Miz Aitoro," Richardson said.

"Richardson, will you saddle Píme after breakfast, please?" Natalia asked. "I feel like riding to church today while the weather is still nice."

"Yes, Miz Aitoro," he said and cast a nervous glance at Jane who was standing between him and Natalia's gelding.

"Have you checked on the chickens yet?" she asked, giving him an out.

"No, ma'am," he said and sidled past Jane. "I'll go do that."

Jane shook her head. "Most men in this fucking town are useless," she said, giving her horse a final swipe of the brush. Natalia was about to reply to that when Jane added, "I was fixing to ride into town with you, but it looks like your husband wants the courtesy of escorting you this morning. So I reckon I'll be on my fucking way." She jutted her chin and Natalia turned to see Gus riding toward them.

"Will you stay for breakfast first?" she asked her guest.

"No, that's all right," Jane said as she saddled the horse. She smiled bashfully. "After our conversation last night, I'm feeling rather eager to making Miss Stubbs's re-acquaintance."

"I understand," Natalia said with a smile. "Remember that you're both welcome here anytime and come soon for supper when you've a night free. I'd enjoy the company."

"I'll let Joanie know," Jane said and led her horse outside with Natalia following. "Thanks again for…well, for everything."

"You're welcome, Jane."

Natalia watched as the rough woman mounted her horse and with a wave of her feathered hat, rode off. As she passed the marshal, she nodded her head and then kicked her horse into a trot.

Gus pulled up near her and swung down from his saddle, looping the reins over the hitching post. "Richardson around?" he asked.

"In the henhouse," she answered and then felt herself wrapped in a warm embrace. After a few moments of kissing her, he pulled away. "Is there fresh coffee?"

She blinked up at him, breathless from his kisses. "Uh, sure," she finally answered. "Come inside."

"What was Jane doing here?" he asked as they walked to the house.

"Sleeping off a drunk," she answered. "I let her stay in Rafe's room."

He frowned. "Do you really think that's proper, Natalia?"

"I wasn't about to let her freeze to death, Gus," she said, annoyed.

"Of course not," he said. "All I meant was she could have stayed in the barn with Richardson, not in the house."

She eyed him as he opened the door and held it open for her. "She's my friend, Gus," she said. "Not a hired hand like Richardson or an animal."

"Natalia, Jane Cannary is…"

"I know what she is, Gus!" she snapped, turning her back and entering the house.

He followed her inside. "I don't think that's the type of woman you should be associating with now that you're a married woman."

"Excuse me?" she said, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Natalia, Deadwood is still a wild town, but it has a social hierarchy that we, me as the marshal for the Dakota Territory and you, as my wife and mother of our child, must fit in. You should be associating with respectable women such as Vanessa Chamberlain and Alma Garret, not Sapphists like Joanie Stubbs and Jane."

"I don't care what people think, Gus," she said.

"Well, I do, and as your husband I say that it's no longer proper for you to associate with such people."

"Is that right?" she asked.

"Yes, that's right," Gus said with an emphatic nod and Natalia could tell that in his mind, the matter was closed. Just as she was about to tear into him, he held up a hand and said. "Look, I didn't come here to fight with you, Natalia. I have to leave for Yankton tomorrow and I was hoping we could spend the day together."

She looked at him, her confused mind trying to catch up with the abrupt change of subject. Then she felt her stomach lurch. "But you just got back from there," she said. "You said you wouldn't have to go again for some months."

"Phillip Spaulding showed up in town last night demanding custody of Emma," he said.

"Is she all right?" she asked, her first thought being for the charming little girl.

"Yes, she's fine for the moment," he said and then related to her the events of the night before, ending with the news that Phillip had already been released from jail and had returned to the Spaulding ranch. As Natalia listened, her anger grew as she realized that once again Olivia Spencer was getting between her and her husband.

"Why does it have to be you?" she said, starting to pace around the kitchen. "I don't believe this, Gus. You're going to New Orleans with Olivia fucking Spencer?"

Gus took a deep breath. "I am escorting a child and her frightened mother, both of whom are being threatened by a madman, to the edge of the territory. As U.S. Marshal for Dakota, this falls within the purview of my duties. I would be required to do the same thing for anyone else and you damn well know it, too. Why do you have such a problem simply because it's Olivia Spencer?"

"Because she wants you, Gus!" Natalia hissed. "And if you think she'll let you leave her in Yankton, you're a fool. She'll find some excuse; make up some imaginary threat to get you to go all the way to New Orleans with her."

"I've already sent a telegram to the marshal in Missouri," Gus said. "He's agreed to meet us in Yankton where he'll take over the job of protecting them."

She looked at him. "Don't do this, Gus," she said, appalled to feel tears swelling in her eyes. "Don't abandon us again."

"I am not abandoning you, Natalia," he said loudly, slamming his hand angrily on the wooden table. Natalia jumped.

"Yes, you are!" she shrieked back, grateful for the anger that pushed back the tears. "You're leaving us just like you did in Chicago."

"I am not! Natalia…" he started, but she cut him off.

"No! I don't want to hear it, Gus," she said and then strode to the door and flung it open. "You know what? Just fucking go. Rafe and I did perfectly fine without for you for years and we will again. So just go be with the town whore and fuck her every night if that's what you want."

"Natalia, I told you…"

Again she stopped him. "I'm tired of hearing it."

With that she turned her back on him and ran to the barn where a nervous Richardson, who obviously had heard the yelling, was holding Píme's reins. She grabbed them from his shaking hands and leapt into the saddle, riding off into the hills away from her cheating husband.

It was near dark by the time she returned to the farmhouse to find her son chopping wood with Richardson stacking the cut logs. As she dismounted Píme and handed the reins to Richardson, he set down the axe and picked up his shirt.

"You shouldn't be out here in just your long underwear and trousers, Rafael," she scolded. "It's too cold."

"Yes, Mama," he said with a smirk and leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Good evening, Mama."

She rolled her eyes. "Thank you for doing this on your only day of rest, mi hijo."

"It's no problem, Mama," he said. "I enjoy the exercise."

She chuckled as he manfully flexed his muscles. "You're filling out nicely, Rafe," she said, once again content that the sickliness which had plagued him as a child was left behind.

"I missed you at church," he said as they walked to the house. "Gus had sent me word last night that he would come get you this morning."

Her jaw hardened at the mention of her husband. "I decided to go for a long ride instead," she said. "Now go and get cleaned up and I'll fix us something to eat."

"All right," he said, always eager for her cooking.

As Natalia feared, over dinner Rafe, asked again about his father. "Did Gus come out to see you?"

"He did," she answered, then inwardly sighed before adding, "Rafe, Gus is going to Yankton tomorrow."

"Really?" he asked, shoving a hunk of bread in his mouth. "Marshal business?"

"Yes," she said gritting her teeth.

Despite his concentration on his dinner, Rafe noticed. "Mama? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she evaded, standing up to bring her half-eaten meal to the waste bin.

"Mama, what's going on?" he said, putting down his fork. "Wait, does this have anything to do with Olivia Spencer? I heard there was trouble at the Beacon last night."

She kept her back to her son, concentrating on putting the leftover food away. A moment later, Rafe put his hand on her shoulder. "Mama? Please, tell me."

She sighed. "Yes, it does," she finally answered. "He's escorting her and Emma to Yankton to protect them from your uncle Phillip."

Rafe was quiet as he thought about that. "Well, that's his job isn't it?" She looked him to see him scratching his nose. "But you think there's more? That something's going on. Is that it, Mama?"

"Rafe, your father is a good man," she said.

"Yes, but she's not a good woman," he said his eyes flashing in anger. "I've heard the things people in town say about her. About how she steals other women's husbands and spreads her legs for any cocksucker with a big prick and an even bigger wallet."

"Rafe!" she admonished. "Watch your language, young man."

"I'm sorry, Mama, but it's true, isn't it?" he said, breathing heavily. "You said before that she tried to keep you and Gus from marrying, and now they're going all the way to Yankton together? Seems to me that she'll have plenty of opportunity to lure him into temptation, good man or not."

Natalia felt a stab of pride as she realized that despite his youth, she had not raised him to be a fool. Her son's rationalizations were on par with her own. "I think so, too."

"So you're just going to let him go?" he asked.

"I can't stop him, mi hijo," she said mournfully. "Like you said, it's his duty to protect the innocent and despite her mother, Emma needs protecting."

Rafe ran the fingers of both hands through his hair. "This is so not right, Mama," he said angrily. "That woman is hurting our family."

"I know, Rafael," she agreed. "But we'll just have to have faith that God's will is in our favor and, if we're patient, He'll bless us with the happiness I know we so deserve."

He stared at her. "Sometimes, I think God's will never makes any sense to us mere humans."

She smiled ruefully. "Me too, mi hijo," she said. "Me too."

After sending Rafe back to Deadwood with the leftover food, Natalia retired to bed with a book. She intended on immersing herself in Emily Brontë. It had been years since she had read Wuthering Heights and the pondering crags and valleys of the novel's setting reminded her of the geography of the Black Hills. However, this night, the upsetting and high emotions of the day took its toll on her body and she fell into an exhausted, yet troubled, sleep before she could finish a page.

She was floating down the hallway toward a menacing darkly-stained door. She recognized the tasteful wall paper lining the walls as her own, but the bedroom door loomed ominously over her, growing taller and taller the closer she got. She could hear voices, a man's deep baritone and a woman's lighter, but husky, alto.

Natalia felt her hand reaching for the door knob and she shook her head in denial, desperately fighting the urge to open the door. She knew what was behind it. This was her own wedding night, only instead of Natalia foiling Olivia's plan, she had failed and Olivia had succeeded in her nefarious scheme of seducing Gus.

"No," she whispered in horror as the door opened on its own accord and she was helplessly swept forward.

The room was sensuously lit with soft flickering candles, the amber glow highlighting the slick flesh of the couple entangled together on the bed. The room was also filled with the pungent aroma of the primeval essence of life. Natalia recognized Gus's chemical combination of masculine sweat and spunk, but mingled with that was a heady mix of something else. Something lighter, yet no less tantalizing to her senses. It reminded her of her own flavor when she kissed Gus after he gave her oral pleasure. It was a blend of alchemy designed to entice and conquer. It was…

"Olivia," Gus moaned and Natalia felt a stab of jealousy shoot through her.

She watched as Olivia sat up, wrapping her legs around Gus and positioning herself in the man's lap. Natalia recognized the position when she and Gus had made love that way on their wedding night. Will make love that way. Natalia shook her head in confusion, not knowing what was reality and what fantasy.

Olivia leaned back to allow Gus access to her voluptuous breasts. Gus eagerly paid homage to them, taking first one nipple in his mouth, then the other.

"Oh yes," Olivia moaned and Natalia felt the sound reverberate through her core, the edges of her vision clouding with desire.

In slow motion, Olivia's head rolled around and her vibrant green eyes fastened on Natalia's. The smoldering look stole the breath from Natalia's lungs.

"Mine," Olivia husked, a smirk forming on her plump lips.

"No," Natalia said. Olivia didn't belong with Gus.

"Yes."

"No," Natalia repeated, reaching a hand to touch Gus's shoulder. "You're…"

Mine.

Natalia felt the world shift as she found her mouth filled with Olivia's succulent nipple. Instinctively, she bit down on the lush morsel.

"Yes!" Olivia cried in pleasure, her arching back pushing her further into Natalia's craving mouth.

As she administered to Olivia's perfect breasts, Natalia's mind barely registered her own body, the hard muscles and wiry hair of her chest pressing against Olivia's curvaceous torso fueling her lust. She scratched her mouth over Olivia's pale flesh with the roughness of her upper lip as the writhing woman clasped to her ran hands through her short hair. And the throbbing hardness between them made Natalia's head swim.

"Olivia," she croaked in her thick, deep voice. "I need…"

Olivia looked down, the smirk still playing on her lips. "I know what you need," she rasped. "I need it, too."

Natalia's felt as if she would pass out as Olivia expertly guided herself onto Natalia and began to move. She clasped Olivia tighter to herself, trying, but unable, to capture those wicked lips with her own. She needed those lips. She had spent a lifetime waiting for those lips and if she was denied them any longer, she would die.

As her frustration grew, she could hear Olivia chanting her name, but she wasn't sure what the words meant or who or what she was.

Natalia

Gus

Rivera

Aitoro

"Miz Aitoro!"

Natalia jerked upright in her bed, her heart pounding, her entire body throbbing and her woolen shift soaked and clinging to her skin. She looked around the room, but the afterimage of those vivacious green eyes filled her with bewilderment.

"Miz Aitoro!" The panic in Richardson's voice sent her running for the balcony doors.

"What's wrong?" she called down.

"Look!" He pointed toward the town.

Natalia looked at the amber glow demonically dancing among the hills and felt a surge of fright as memories of a horrible night nine years ago when her and Rafe had both nearly died flooded her sleep addled consciousness.

Deadwood was on fire.

Gus looked up as the door to Utter's Freight office opened and his son determinedly strode through it and up to the desk he was sitting behind.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Rafe demanded, hands on his hips, his spiky hair pointing in several directions. The aroma of horseflesh and cold air that followed his son into the office told Gus that Rafe had probably just come from the farmstead and he had ridden hard.

Charlie Utter, who was reclining with his feet propped against some boxes coughed awkwardly and stood up. "I'll…uh, I'll just go check on that…uh." He coughed again. "Thing," he finished lamely.

Gus nodded and waited until Charlie had left, softly closing the door Rafe had left open behind him. "You will speak to your father in a tone of respect, Rafael," he finally said, moving around the desk and glaring at his son.

"Respect?" Rafe railed, waving his arms. "Where's your respect for my mother?"

"And you think this behavior is showing your mother respect?" Gus asked feeling the anger he had kept in check since his argument with Natalia flare to the surface. He and Rafe had made great strides lately, but the rocky start of their relationship, which had been helplessly entangled with the unraveling of his marriage to Harley which meant any reminder of that time, such as the behavior Rafe was displaying now, put him on edge.

"This is not about me, Gus," Rafe said, his voice rising. "This is about you finally showing your true cocksucking colors and leaving my mother for that cunt Olivia Spencer."

Gus's right arm swung violently in an arc that ended with his fist connecting solidly with his son's jaw.

Rafe barely kept himself from falling to the floor, catching himself on the shipping crate next to him. Gus waited, his vision a red haze and his fists clenched at his side. His breathing was fast, but controlled. He had never struck his son before. He had only ever punished his step-sons when they deserved it and certainly not with the anger that possessed him now.

Rafe moved one hand to his mouth and grimaced as it came away bloody. "Son of a bitch," he swore.

"Yes," Gus agreed and relaxed imperceptibly when he realized Rafe wasn't going to attack. "Now, you listen to me, boy," he began. "Like it or not, and I'm sure there will be more fucking days of the latter than the former, I am your father. Your mother taught you right from wrong and that includes respecting your parents, your elders and your betters and that Goddamn well includes Olivia Spencer."

"Gus, no! She's a…" Rafe's jaw clamped shut with a snap at Gus's warning look.

"She is your family, Rafe," he said. "You share blood with her through Emma and that, if nothing else makes her worthy of your respect."

"I also share blood with Grandpa Alan," Rafe pointed out and inwardly Gus had to concede his son had a point. "I never see you kissing his ass."

"That's because I am an adult and until you are, you will show him respect a grandfather deserves, even if he hasn't fucking earned it. " Gus took another deep breath. "As for Olivia, while some in this town may question her morals and business ethics, she is fundamentally a good person and I say you will not speak or think such things about her. Understand me?"

"What if I don't agree?"

"Too fucking bad," he answered. "You make your own judgments when you have earned the right to do so. Until then, you'll do as I say."

Rafe's jaw worked for a moment, and then he leaned over and spat a bloody wad into the spittoon. "All right," he finally said and Gus could hear the acceptance in his voice. Gus suspected Rafe had decided to bide his time – it's what he would have done when he was Rafe's age – and he knew that he and his son would undoubtedly repeat this conversation in the near future. "May I inquire as to your intentions toward my mother? I think it not unreasonable to know if you shall honor your obligation to her."

"You may inquire," he said conceded with a nod. "Yes, I have every intent on fulfilling the promises I made to her." Then he added, "To you as well, Rafael."

Rafe shook his head. "I don't need anything," he said. "She's the one who deserves all you can give her. Mama sacrificed so much for me. You have no idea what she went through day in and day out to give me a halfway decent life."

"I know, Rafe," he said softly. "I look at you and I can see her. Everything that is pure and good and strong in you is all Natalia."

Rafe smirked. "And the fucked up part of me is all you, I suppose?"

Gus had to bite back a bark of laughter. He was about to speak when there was a shout from outside. The two of them looked at each other and then ran for the door. Rafe followed him down the stairs that ran along the outside of the building to the confusion moiling in the thoroughfare.

Charlie Utter was waiting for them. "Fire over on Wall Street, Marshal," he said. "Harry Manning is mustering the brigade. We gotta go."

Gus looked in the direction of Charlie was pointing and then turned toward the Beacon. He could see the fire's reflection off the side of the hotel and knew it was in danger if the fire spread. He was torn between the two, knowing that Olivia needed him, but without every man available to fight the fire, Deadwood could burn to the ground by morning. Then he spotted Deputy Cooper and ran into the street to intercept him.

"Frank!"

Frank violently reined in his horse. "Marshal," he said. "Sheriff Bullock told me to join Remy guarding Emma in case this is a diversionary tactic. He wants us to bring her and Olivia to where Missus Bullock and the other women and children are gathering and stay with them."

"All right, go," Gus said, immediately seeing the sense in Bullock's plan. Harry Manning had drilled into the townsfolk the necessity of getting as far away from a fire as possible and so far it had saved lives. The more people around Olivia and Emma, the safer they would be if Phillip had set the fire. And if he had, then he was crazier than Gus had thought. Arson was not only a capital crime, but it was likely to get him hanged by an angry mob. The people of Deadwood did not take kindly to anyone threatening their homes and livelihoods. He turned to Rafe. "Get to the livery," he ordered.

"But Gus…"

"No!" he snapped. "Your responsibility is to Fields and seeing the horses to safety. He needs you, so go."

Rafe hesitated a moment and then with a nod, took off at a run.

"Come on, Charlie," he said and together they headed toward the quickly spreading fire.

The moment Olivia had heard the fire alarm she felt a jolt of mindless panic. The fire of last year that had nearly destroyed the entire town was still fresh in the minds of Deadwood's residents and Olivia had nearly lost her hotel and, most importantly, her eldest daughter.

However, after that flitting instant, Olivia forced herself to calm down. After dressing herself in her riding leathers, she strode quickly to Emma's room and shook the sleeping girl.

"Emma, honey," she said. "Wake up, Jellybean."

"Mommy?" the little girl said, rubbing her eyes.

"Please hurry, Emma," she said, grabbing her daughter's clothing and dropping them on the bed. "Get dressed. I'm going to get Jane."

Outside her suite, Remy remained on guard. "Gregory's alerting the guests," he said.

"Good," she said. "Don't you dare let Emma out of your sight. Got it?"

"No, ma'am," he said.

Olivia ran to Jane's room and pounded on the governess's door until the confused woman opened it. "Fire," she said succinctly and Jane's white face paled even more. "Help Emma get dressed and meet me in the lobby right away."

"Yes, Miss Spencer," the girl answered and hurried toward Emma's room.

Olivia raced down the stairs and found Gregory directing guests out of the hotel. "Send someone to get my horse," she ordered, then ran to get her gun belt from the office while Gregory grabbed one of the bellmen to do her bidding.

"Olivia!" she heard when she returned to the lobby. Frank Cooper was there waiting for her.

"Frank," she said. "Remy's upstairs."

"Good," he said. "Bullock says to get you and the little one to the meeting spot."

"Jane's getting her ready," she paused to give him a pleading look. "I need to make sure the Beacon is safe first. Please keep my little girl safe, Frank."

"I will," he promised.

Outside, the cold night air was filled with the shouts of people running to and from the fire. Olivia looked and could see that two of the buildings on the block adjacent to the Beacon were engulfed in flames. As she watched, one of them collapsed in on itself with a roar. Harry Manning was leading the brace of horses pulling the steam-powered fire wagon, while the rest of the volunteer firefighters had formed a bucket brigade. Olivia noted that Gus was at the head of the line. She could see his muscles rippling as he tossed another bucketful of water on the fire and grabbed another from Charlie Utter standing behind him.

"Mommy!"

Olivia turned to find her daughter dressed and bundled in her warmest coat and holding her governess's hand. Standing behind them were the two deputies. Emma glanced toward the burning buildings and her bottom lip started to quiver.

Olivia kneeled down in front of her daughter and gently turned her face away from the fire. "Emma, honey," she said. "Don't be afraid, okay?"

Emma nodded her head shakily.

"I want you to go with Jane and Deputy Frank and Deputy Remy, okay?" she asked.

"Where, Mommy?"

"Over to where the women and children are waiting until the fire is put out," she answered. "Your classmates will be there, okay?"

"Aren't you coming, Mommy?" Emma asked.

"Yes, I'll be following right behind you as quickly as I can," she answered. "I just need to make sure all of the Beacon's guests are safe. Okay?"

"Okay, Mommy."

She stood up and said to the lawmen. "Take good care of her."

"Of course, Miss Spencer," Remy said and Frank nodded his agreement.

Olivia watched as the small group headed for the creek, then looked at the fire fighter's progress. Manning had the steamer running and the bucket handlers had shifted to allow him and his men access to the building. Steam began to mix with the smoke as water from the pump started to pour on. She looked up and could see burning embers and sparks riding the thermal currents generated by the flames dancing dangerously close to her hotel.

She was relieved when Mose Manual rode up to the hotel and for such a big man, nimbly jumped off. She noted he was sweating despite the cold air.

"Come on," she ordered after he had tied his horse next to hers. He silently followed her inside. "Is everyone out?" she asked her concierge.

"Yes, Miss Spencer," he answered.

"Good." Then she headed for the stairs and motioned for them to follow. "You boys come with me."

After the last big fire, she had a cistern installed on the roof of the hotel, which supplied the hotel's water closets, but now would help save the building. There was a thin skim of icy crust covering the surface, but they easily broke through it with the buckets. Together the three of them spread water over the roof of the hotel and put out any stray embers before they could alight the tar-covered planks.

After what seemed an eternity, she finally noticed a change in the light and realized Manning and his crew had the fire next door beaten back. From the edge of her roof, she watched as the firemen began to pull down the still smoldering walls. She spied Gus, his upper torso stripped down to his soot-stained underwear, working alongside the sheriff and fire marshal.

"I think they've got it under control," she said trying to catch her breath. Her hands were freezing and she could see they were reddened and cracked from the icy water. She ignored the discomfort and turned to Gregory. "Stay here and keep an eye on the fire just in case it flares up again."

"Of course," he said.

"Good job tonight, Greg," she said, putting a hand on his forearm. "Thank you. When they're finished, please open the bar for Harry and his men." She turned to Mose. "Come with me. I need Emma."

Leaving the hotel in Gregory's capable hands, she and Mose went outside where their horses were waiting for them. She spent a moment calming her mare, then stepped into Mose's waiting hands and settled into the saddle. After he handed her a flaming torch, he took another for himself and mounted his own horse, the mount looking incongruously small under the big man's ponderous bulk. The two of them set off at a quick trot through the still chaotic thoroughfare toward the creek.

Soon after crossing, they came upon Martha Bullock leading the column of townsfolk returning to the town.

"Mrs. Bullock," she called, reining in her horse. "Where's Emma?"

"Down the line, Miss Spencer," the school teacher answered. "She had trouble with her boots and they fell behind. The two deputies and her governess are with her."

"Thank you," Olivia said and rode on, sighing at her daughter's apparent willfulness. Recently, Emma had learned to tie her own shoes and since had insisted on doing it herself without any help from anyone, even her own mother. Olivia had no doubt that her daughter's stubbornness was what had delayed them.

As they rode past the end of the line and the few stragglers, without seeing her daughter, Olivia's apprehension began to rise. By the time they reached the woods near the rim of the gulch, she was nearly panicking.

"Mose!" she cried helplessly.

The big watchman looked around the darkness, his torch held high.

Then they both heard the sound of someone moaning in pain.

"This way," Mose said and spurred his horse, Olivia following on his heels.

She could smell the carnage in the clearing before the light from their torches illuminated the scene. The first thing Olivia saw was Jane. The governess was lying on her back, her eyes staring sightlessly at the unforgiving sky. Her plain coat was drenched in the blood that had gushed from the gaping wound that ran across the width of her pale neck.

She heard a creaking noise and looked up just as Mose jumped off his horse and ran toward the sound. Hanging by the neck from a pine tree, Deputy Boudreau's lifeless face was swollen grotesquely and bore signs of the savage beating he had received before being strung up.

"Oh God," she prayed in a whisper. "Please don't have let Emma see that."

Mose cut the deputy down as Olivia searched the rest of the clearing. Lying in a crumbled heap, she finally found Frank Cooper.

"Frank!" she said, jumping off the horse.

The deputy moaned again. His scalp was torn open and blood was still running from it. She pulled open his coat and then tore off a scrap from his linen shirt, folding it over to form a compress.

"What happened, Frank," she demanded the groggy deputy. "Where's Emma?"

Frank groaned his answer and impatiently she shook his shoulder causing him more distress, but she had no time for his pain. Her daughter was missing. "Frank," she said again, the volume of her voice causing him to wince. "Emma! You were supposed to protect Emma."

"Spaulding," he croaked, just as Mose joined them. She glanced at her watchman and he cut his eyes to where Remy was lying and then shook his head. Olivia felt another stab of pain in her heart, but then returned her attention to Frank.

"Where did he take her?" she asked.

"They jumped us," Frank whispered. "Too many. Remy…"

"Frank, which way did they go?"

"Don't…don't know," he said.

Olivia shook him again, but he had once again fallen unconscious. After tying the makeshift bandage securely to his head, she and Mose both stood up to search the clearing, their torches held close to the churned up dirt.

"Here!" Mose finally said.

Olivia looked and saw the majority of the hoof prints leading off directly toward the Spaulding Ranch. She suspected that Phillip was going to stop there before taking off with their daughter. She didn't have any time to waste.

"Take Frank to Doc Bauer," she ordered, mounting her horse. "Then find Gus and Bullock and tell them what happened.

"Ain't you coming?"

"No," she said, her jaw clenched. "I'm going to get my daughter."

"But Miss Spencer…"

"The quicker you go, Mose, the faster you can get help." Without any further argument, she kicked her horse in the direction of the retreating tracks.

Toward Emma.

Having declined the free drinks flowing freely at the Beacon's bar, Gus and Bullock spent a few minutes examining the burned rubble. They quickly determined from the overbearing stink of kerosene oil filling the sooty air, that the fire had been deliberately set.

"Why burn a grain and feed office?" Bullock asked. "It's clearly arson, so it wasn't for the insurance money."

"Maybe another business was the intended target," Gus said, looking across the street at the bulk of the Beacon Hotel.

"Then why not set fire directly to the hotel?"

"Would you, if your daughter was sleeping inside?" Gus asked in return.

Bullock's dark eyes glittered at him. "There's nothing more we can do here. I'm going to go make sure Mrs. Bullock and our girl's all right."

Gus nodded. "I think I'm going to take a ride out to the ranch."

"You won't wait until morning?"

"No," he shook his head. "If Phillip did this, I don't want to miss any evidence being destroyed by morning."

"All right," Bullock said. "Charlie and I will meet you at the livery shortly."

"Sure," Gus said and they parted ways.

After stopping at the jail and grabbing a rifle, he walked swiftly to the livery. The horses were still agitated from the stink of smoke still in the cold air and Rafe and Fields had their hands full in calming them down. With just a nod to them, he set about saddling his own horse. He had just mounted and was waiting for the other lawmen when he heard his name being frantically called.

"Mose?" he asked, eyeing the big man and his straining horse with concern.

"Emma," Mose started and then stopped to breathe.

"What about Emma?"

"Kidnapped," Mose finally got out. "The governess and Deputy Boudreau are dead and I just took Deputy Cooper to the doc's. He's hurt bad."

"Where's Olivia?" he asked.

"Gone after her daughter," Mose said. "The tracks left behind by those cocksucking reprobates lead straight to the Spaulding ranch."

"Oh God," Gus whispered, trying to think. "Wait here for Bullock. He should be here any minute. Tell him what happened and to send help as soon as he can."

"Where are you going?"

"To stop Olivia before she does something stupid." He kicked his heels against his horse and quickly left Mose behind.

One moment, she was racing along the darkened trail, the next Olivia was flying through the air as her mare suddenly dropped out from under her. White hot pain filled her as she crashed heavily against the ground. There was a sickening wet pop in her shoulder and her vision grayed out for a few moments. Then she realized she was staring at the icy stars above her as a chilling voice reached out to her from the darkness.

"Ohhhhh…livia!" Phillip's nauseating singsong churned through her abdomen.

Then came the sharp report of gunfire and the dirt kicked up beside her head, dry particles stinging her eyes.

"Fuck," she cried. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she scrambled though the dirt and took cover behind the body of her horse.

"Give me my daughter back, you fucking cocksucker!" she yelled as she tried to pull her gun from its holster. "Motherfucker," she whispered, nearly weeping because she couldn't reach it with the hand dangling uselessly because of her dislocated shoulder. Finally, she unbuckled the belt and was able to pull the gun free with her left hand.

"She's my daughter too, Olivia," Phillip called out.

Olivia cocked her pistol and fired off a shot in the direction of the voice. It was met with her ex-husband's maniacal laugh.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Olivia?"

To Olivia's horror, another voice rang out. "Mommy?"

"You bastard!" she screamed. "Let her go, Phillip!"

"I can't do that, Olivia," Phillip howled. "You've denied me my daughter for far too long. It's time I took what's mine and after tonight, Emma will be mine forever."

Olivia closed her eyes trying not to picture the horrors Phillip's words conjured up. She remembered the atrocities he had committed against his other children, which she had only learned about after she was pregnant with Emma. Both Lizzie and James had never recovered from it; Lizzie remained confined to the mental ward in the hospital back in Chicago where Alan paid a small fortune to ensure she received good care and James was dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. It's why she had fought so hard to keep Emma away from her father.

She needed to get close enough to Phillip to avoid the risk of hitting Emma, so she crawled on her belly toward the nearest tree, her entire right side a mass of torment. Ignoring it, she used the tree to help lift herself to her feet. She took a moment to breathe deeply to control the pain and then quickly darted to the next tree. She felt the whiz of another bullet zoom much too close past her head.

"Cocksucker," she muttered under her breath as she rested for a moment. "Hang on, Jellybean, Mommy's coming."

She dashed for the next tree, but jerked to a stop when Phillip stepped out from behind it, his insane grin plastered across his face.

"Going somewhere, Liv?" he asked, his hand gun resting by his side.

"No, but you're going to hell, fuck face," she growled as she lifted her pistol. Her weaker hand was not as fast as his and in the next instant all of her breath was stolen out of her body as his bullet slammed into her chest.

The world around her collapsed inward, focusing on the point of contact the small bit of metal made hitting her body. She barely registered flying backward or hitting the ground a second time that night. Once again she was lying face up in the dirt staring at the cold stars only this time they were tinted a blood red she was sure matched the color of the liquid escaping her body.

Phillip's face moved into her view, his eyes dancing with glee as he bent over her. She tried to speak, but the only sound that came out of her was the sickly sucking noise from the center of the mass of pain radiating throughout her torso.

"Well, look at you now, Liv," he said. He ran the barrel of his gun down the side of her face. Olivia barely registered the heat emanating from it. "Looks like I've got to take Emma now as you're obviously in no position to care for the little one. Fact is, my dear, doesn't look too good on you making it till morning."

Olivia knew that tears were running down her face. "Bas…bas," she finally got out.

Phillip laughed heartily. "I'm a bastard? Yeah well, with a father like Alan Spaulding, what the fuck did you expect?" He paused as if expecting her to answer, but then continued, "I so look forward to my time with Emma, you know. You've had the pleasure of her company for so long now. It was really selfish of you, but now that she's all mine, we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other. Just like you and I did when we were married. Do you remember that, Liv? All those fun nights we spent fucking like rabbits? So you know exactly what dear Emma will…"

Phillip's rant broke off and his gaze snapped toward the trail leading to Deadwood. She could hear the sound of racing hoof beats growing louder by the moment. He sighed and glanced down at her again. "I have something to take care of, Liv. I'll be right back. Do be a good girl and don't die on me. At least, not yet, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, he jumped to his feet and disappeared from her sight.

The sound of the racing hoof beats pounded closer and closer until she thought they would crash over her prone body.

"Whoa!"

The sounds of the running horse stopped short and she heard someone dropping to the ground. A few moments later, Gus appeared in her view.

"Olivia!" he cried, pulling off his coat. "Oh my God."

"Guh…" she breathed out.

"No, shh, don't try to talk." He folded his coat and pressed it against her chest causing her to cry out. "Shh, I know it hurts, sweetheart," he said, his rough, yet warm hand caressing her face. "As soon as we get you to the doc's, you'll be fine."

"Guh…" she tried again, but to her horror she saw Phillip's lanky form looming over Gus. Her insane ex-husband lifted his cocked gun and pointed it at Gus's head.

"Nuh…" she gasped.

"Bye, bye brother," Phillip drawled and pulled the trigger.

Hot crimson splashed over her face as Olivia felt her heart breaking inside her chest. Gus slumped forward and landed on top of her. Her body erupted in agony and the world dissolved into black nothingness.

By the time Richardson, who insisted on going with her, had readied the buckboard and they reached the road leading to Deadwood, the glow on the horizon had faded. Worried about Gus and Rafe, Natalia continued on. The road was quiet as it usually was on a Sunday night when the mine was closed for its only day of rest, but when they finally reached Deadwood and turned onto the main thoroughfare, the street was full of excited men. Richardson hopped off the wagon and spoke with a man covered in soot. Natalia paused only long enough to let Richardson back on before continuing.

"He said there was a fire, but Harry Manning and the other volunteers put it out," he told her. "A block of buildings burned, but the fire didn't spread."

"Did he say where it was?"

"Over to Wall Street," he answered.

Natalia felt her stomach lurch in fright at the news it had been near the hotel where her husband was living. "Anyone hurt?"

"No."

"Good," she breathed a sigh of relief and a few minutes later she could see the painted boards of the familiar building. She stopped the buckboard in front of the hotel and looked at the rubble of the buildings in the block next to it, again feeling that suffocating terror of that long ago night in Chicago.

She shook off the feeling and stood up to go inside, but then saw a grim-faced Mose Manuel driving a wagon. He stopped when he drew even with them.

"Miz Aitoro," he said tipping his hat.

Natalia's gaze was drawn to the cargo space of his wagon where two-human shaped forms were lying covered by a blood-stained burlap tarp. "Mose?" she asked. "I thought no one was hurt in the fire."

"No one was, ma'am," he said, his voice sad. "This is the foul work of that devil-spawn Phillip Spaulding."

Natalia gasped and clutched her neck with frightened thoughts of Rafe, Gus, Emma and Olivia flashing through her mind. "Who?" she asked in a whisper.

"Deputy Boudreau," Mose said. After a pause, he added, "And young Miss Jane, the governess."

"Oh my God!" Natalia exclaimed.

"Does Aunt Lou know about this?" Richardson asked.

Mose nodded sternly. "She's comforting Miss Christina. I'm taking them to the doc's." He waved a hand at the bodies behind him.

"And Phillip?"

"The marshal and the sheriff have gone after the cocksucker," Mose said, his voice finally releasing his anger, but then he looked contrite. "Please pardon my language, ma'am."

Natalia waved off the apology. "We better get over to Aunt Lou's, then," she said to Richardson who nodded. "Mose, can you please send word when Mr. Aitoro has returned, or at least let him know where we are when he gets back?"

"Of course, Miz Aitoro," he said and then reined his horse into motion.

"Poor Christina," Natalia commented as she guided the buckboard to the famous cook's boarding house.

"And poor Aunt Lou," Richardson added.

Natalia estimated that nearly every Negro resident of Deadwood was packed inside of Aunt Lou's, in addition to quite a few Chinese and whites. For a large crowd, they were mostly quiet, small groups talking amongst themselves in low tones. She spotted Samuel Fields standing near the door to the kitchen, his arms crossed.

"General," she said as she approached, Richardson on her heels.

"Miz Aitoro," he said removing his hat. "Terrible business, this."

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"He was a good man," Fields said. "He made all us niggers right proud."

"Every resident of this town should be proud of him, no matter their skin color," she said. "Is Aunt Lou here?"

"In her kitchen, ma'am," he said, jerking his head at the door behind him. "Why don't you and Mr. Richardson go on in? She'll be glad to see you."

"Thank you," she said and briefly touched his buckskin covered arm before opening the door and going inside.

Natalia knew that the portly cook and boarding house owner always drew comfort from her kitchen, just like Natalia herself did. Aunt Lou's kitchen was large, spotless and bright and filled with the comforting smell of warm broth simmering on the stove and yeasty bread rising on the shelves. Aunt Lou was sitting on the threadbare settee with her granddaughter, the diminutive woman nearly enveloped by the larger one's hug.

"Aunt Lou?" Natalia dropped to her knees in front of the crying women. Richardson lingered by the door, wringing his hands nervously, tears streaming down his face.

"Oh Miz Aitoro," Aunt Lou cried. "Oh Jesus. This is a terrible day. A terrible day."

"I'm so sorry," Natalia said. She put a hand on Christina's knee. "He would have been a good husband for you, Christina."

The caramel-skinned woman nodded. "He spoke kindly of you, Miz Aitoro." She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"Natalia, please," she said. "He was a good friend."

"You courted. You and Remy, didn't you?" Christina asked.

"Yes, but never seriously." Natalia smiled softly. "And that ended the minute he laid eyes on you the day you came to town."

"Lord yes!" Aunt Lou interjected. "Smitten in an instant. Praise Jesus."

Christina sighed. "Why him?" she cried. "Why Remy?"

"Oh honey," Aunt Lou said. "Niggers been gettin' lynched ever since we was brung here. Your man was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, doing the job he was so proud to have."

Natalia inwardly gasped at learning how the deputy had died. Christina burst into a fresh set of tears and buried her face in her grandmother's ample bosom.

"Oh Lord!" Aunt Lou cried as she rocked the weeping girl. "A terrible day."

Natalia left the two women to their grief and set about finishing the cooking Aunt Lou had started before the news interrupted her. Within a short time, she began to send Richardson to the dining room with heaping platters of steaming food. Aunt Lou sent her a grateful look as she continued to comfort her granddaughter.

Natalia had just started a new batch of biscuits when the door to the kitchen flung open and Samuel Fields rushed in, his eyes wide.

"Oh Lord, now what?" Aunt Lou cried.

"Miz Aitoro," Fields began, then swallowed hard. "You need to get to Doc Bauer's."

"Rafe?" she whispered in a soft voice, fear choking her.

"No ma'am," he answered. "It's your husband. He and Miz Spencer, they've been shot." Fields paused and then added softly. "It's bad, ma'am."

"Oh Lord!" Aunt Lou cried again.

Natalia's vision grayed and she felt herself falling until the strong arms of Fields steadied her.

"You all right, ma'am?" he asked.

"No," she said. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then released it. Without another word, she left the kitchen. By the time she reached the street, she was running.

"Bullock!"

The sheriff paused, turned and looked up at Al Swearengen glaring at him from his office balcony. "I don't have time right now, Swearengen," he called up.

Swearengen pointed a finger at him. "Inside, now," he growled and disappeared.

Bullock breathed through his nose in an effort to rein in his annoyance, then entered the Gem, his long coat swishing around his black-clad legs. The saloon was sparsely populated. There were only a few men drinking at tables and a clump of whores lazing about. Bullock walked to the bar as the sound of Swearengen's heavy footsteps rushing down the stairs.

"You cunts get busy fucking," Swearengen said to the whores, buttoning his vest over his grey underwear. As he joined Bullock at the bar, he motioned to the bartender to pour them drinks. Swearengen slammed his back, then turned to Bullock and said, "What the fuck is going on, Bullock?"

"I've got work to do, Swearengen," he said, his eyes flashing.

Swearengen ignored the warning. "I'm not fucking waiting on Merrick to set his free fucking gratis type and you're the one using my men to go after that cocksucker Spaulding, so why don't you simply take a few minutes to do me the fucking courtesy and tell me what the fuck is going on."

Bullock clenched his jaw a moment and then finally answered. "Phillip Spaulding doused the grain and feed office with kerosene and set it on fire as a diversion to get his daughter out of the Beacon. When the refugees were returning, Spaulding and his men ambushed my deputies assigned with protecting the girl, killed the governess, beat and hung Boudreau and incapacitated Cooper. Spaulding's men then took the girl to the ranch while Spaulding waited behind. When Miss Spencer went after her daughter, again using the ambush technique, which apparently is a useful fucking tool for the cocksucker, he shot Miss Spencer's horse from under her, injuring her in the process and then shot her."

"Olivia's dead?" Swearengen asked and Bullock was surprised to see a brief flash of alarm in Swearengen's eyes.

"No, but she's hurt bad," he answered.

"What else?" Swearengen asked after a moment.

"Marshal Aitoro," he said. "Cocksucker shot him in the head. He's still breathing, but the doc says he won't last much longer."

"And Olivia's girl?"

"By the time we got to the ranch, Spaulding's hired guns, except for Foley, had abandoned him," Bullock said.

"Yeah, those fucking Pinkerton's," Al interjected. "String up a deputy, kill an innocent woman, kidnap a kid, but the cold-blooded murder of a fucking U.S. Marshal was a bit too much for the cocksuckers."

Bullock could hear the anger through the sarcasm in the brothel keeper's tone. "I agree," he said. "Fortunately, the girl is safe. Her great-aunt Alexandra held Spaulding and Foley off at gunpoint to keep them from escaping with her. Between her and her manservant, they chased the cocksuckers off."

"You mean the Chink?"

"No, Fletcher Reade," Bullock clarified. "He's been with her for years."

"Don't think I've seen him around town," Swearengen said, smoothing down his beard.

"He never leaves Alexandra's side and she's not one to slum in town," Bullock said. "From what Aitoro has told me, she was furious when her brother dragged her here from Illinois."

"Well, the old cunt certainly has some spunk in her if she managed to hold off two armed cocksuckers," Swearengen said, admiration tinting his voice.

"Spaulding and Foley fled since they knew we weren't far behind them and Charlie and your men are giving chase, but I don't expect much luck," Bullock said, wanting to conclude the tale so he could go make his report to Yankton. "I told Charlie if they didn't catch them by tomorrow to come back. Spaulding has managed to evade capture this long. We'll have to track him by other means."

Swearengen nodded. "At least he's a wanted man again," he said. "Spaulding senior wasted a huge amount of bribe money with his cocksucking son's business tonight."

"So, was that to your satisfaction, Swearengen?" Bullock asked. "Can I get on with my fucking business now?"

"Sure Bullock," Swearengen said agreeably.

Bullock finally downed the shot glass in front of him and walked to the door.

"That was a good fucking story, Bullock," Swearengen said behind him. "You always did have a way with words. If you ever get tired of enforcing the law, you could get a job with Merrick. I'm sure the Fourth Estate would benefit from a man of your high morals."

Bullock ignored the rest of Swearengen's rant as he left the Gem.

There was already a crowd of people gathered outside the small building Doctor Bauer used as a combination clinic and residence, but Natalia ignored them as she rushed through the front door. Frank Cooper was sitting upright on a cot. His wife Eleni was beside him holding a towel filled with crushed ice to his head. The deputy's face was contorted with pain. Looking around, Natalia spotted her husband lying on a cot in one corner of the sizeable room. She ran over to him and then fell on her knees by his side.

Bloody bandages were wrapped around Gus's head. His face was ashen, the skin drooping and accentuating the normally handsome lines of his face. She picked up his hand, shocked at how cold it was.

"Nicky?"

Gus's lips were moving, but only the occasional word was understandable among the nonsensical syllables.

"Nicky?" she said again. "It's me…Natalia."

"Harley?" Gus said, his eyes remaining shut. "I love you, baby."

Natalia felt her heart clenching as Gus's brief moment of vocal clarity came to an end. Wiping away a tear, she looked around and spotted Doctor Bauer working beside another cot. She got to her feet and strode purposefully over to him. "Doctor," she said. "Why aren't you helping my husband?"

The tall physician turned to her. "I'm sorry, Natalia," he said, his grim tone matching his words. "I've already done all I can for him. He's gone."

"What are you talking about?" She tried to keep the panic out of her voice. "He's breathing. He's talking."

"Not for long," Bauer said. "I'm surprised he's lasted this long."

"No!" she said. "You help him now!"

"Natalia, I don't have time to waste on a dead man," Bauer said firmly. "I have another patient to try to save."

For the first time, Natalia looked at the other occupant of the clinic. Olivia Spencer's face was pale and drawn and her breathing was shallow. She was unconscious and had been stripped to the waist. Her chest was covered with a bloody covering and Natalia could see the dark bruising that was radiating from the hidden gunshot wound.

"This is her own damn fault," Natalia said bitterly, the tears escaping from her eyes a symptom of the inner turmoil she was feeling at seeing her former employer in this state. She tore her gaze away from the stricken Olivia and looked back at Bauer. "You help my husband, Doctor."

"I'm sorry, Natalia," he said. "Say goodbye to Gus. Now excuse me, I have to get some help so I can save this woman's life."

He pulled away from her clutching hands and left the cabin. Natalia glanced once more at Olivia and felt a wave of despair flow through her. She closed her eyes for a moment and then returned to her dying husband's side.

Outside the doctor's office, the gathered crowd waited for news. Four women stood together shivering in the cold. Their faces were grim. They all had made similar vigils before. Each of them had waited to learn who would live and who would die.

"What the fuck is that limey cocksucker doing here?" Jane Cannary asked, her words gathering steam in the frigid air.

The other three turned to where Jane's gaze led them. Leaning against the side of a shack across the street and out of sight to most of the crowd was Al Swearengen.

"Maybe he's feeling poorly," Jewel speculated. "All the goings on tonight put him off his feed. He refused to et a single bite!"

Trixie snorted her derision. She was standing next to the Gem's charwoman. The former whore spat, her spittle landing on the frozen mud at her feet. "He's worried for Olivia."

Joanie Stubbs turned to Trixie, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Swearengen doesn't seem the type to be as overly concerned for others as he is for own interests," she said.

"He ain't," Trixie agreed. "But there are a few, very few I might add, that Al considers a part of his interests and Olivia is one of those few."

"That cocksucker and a high-class lady like Olivia Spencer?" Jane said. "I heard she was some kind of princess on some fucking island somewhere. Don't seem the type to be slumming with the likes of that cocksucker."

"Far as I know, Al's never fucked her," Trixie said taking a pull on her cigarette. "But we all know there's more than one way to get in bed with someone."

The crowd stirred as the front door to the cabin opened and the doctor stepped out. His eyes scanned the street and then stopped when it came to their little group. The doctor quickly walked over to them.

"Miss Jane," he began. "I'll need your help with an operation, if you're willing."

Jane gave a short nod. "Always willing to help those in need, Doc."

"Hey, Doc!" Swearengen called out.

Bauer glanced at Swearengen, who was waving him over. The doctor held up a hand and then turned back to Jane. "Put on a clean apron and then go wash up, there's water boiling on the stove. Don't touch anything with your clean hands."

"I know the fucking drill," Jane grumbled and stomped to the office.

The assembled townsfolk fluttered again as the marshal's son raced down the street, the leather farrier's apron flapping against his legs. The boy disappeared into the doctor's office. A minute later, he was followed by the Reverend Josh Lewis and the Catholic priest Ray Santos. As the door closed behind the two men of God, the waiting throng grew still again.

Bauer walked over to Swearengen. "I need to get back inside," he said.

"How's Olivia?"

"Fucked up, Al," Bauer answered, his face bleak. "I've got to cut into her to get at the bullet."

"You can't leave it in there?" Swearengen asked.

Bauer shook his head. "I think it's too close to her heart," he answered. "Leave it in and it could shift. If it nicks an artery, she could bleed to death in minutes. As it is, she might not make it through the surgery. She's coughing up blood so most likely the shot pierced a lung. She's breathing fine, but I don't dare risk using ether on her."

Swearengen chewed on his lip a moment and then he poked a blunt finger hard into Bauer's chest. "You fucking save her, Doc. You get that?" he said, making the question a statement. "She lives and it's free drinks and pussy for you at the Gem."

"Olivia's a good friend, Al," Bauer said. "I'm going to do my best to save her no matter the incentive."

"Then go fucking save her!"

Bauer nodded and went back inside.

For one moment, Trixie and Swearengen's eyes met and the silent communication that comes from years of familiarity passed between them. Then Swearengen turned around and walked slowly back to his saloon.

Natalia barely registered the presence of Jane Cannary until the frontierswoman placed a rough hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. She turned her gaze from her husband's pallid face and looked at her friend.

"I'm sorry," Jane whispered. "I know it ain't much, but if you need anything, just say so. I'll…" Jane stopped and cleared her throat. "Me and Joanie will be there for you."

"Thank you, Jane," Natalia said and returned her attention to her husband, but then looked up when her son crashed through the door and ran to his parents.

"Mama?" he said as he fell to his knees next to her. He looked at Gus. "Oh God, no," he whispered. He pulled at his hair. "No, no, no!"

Natalia pulled both of her son's hands and held them in hers.

Rafe searched his mother's face. "Mama?" he said again. "He's going to be fine, right?"

"I'm sorry, mi hijo," she said, shaking her head. "He's dying."

"Oh God, Mama," Rafe said, tears streaming down his face. "Why? What happened?"

"Not now, Rafael," she said, shaking her head. "Let's just pray your father's soul can find its rest."

"That's always an excellent thing to do, my child."

They both looked up at the man dressed in a severe black suit. Father Ray set down a small leather case on the cot across from Natalia and Rafe and then lowered himself to his knees.

"My sympathies for your loss, Natalia, Rafael," the priest said as he removed a stole from his case and kissed it before draping it over his neck.

"Thank you, Father," Natalia murmured. Rafe echoed the sentiment.

"I'm sorry that this has happened," Ray continued. "I did try to warn both you and Mr. Aitoro that God's will is extreme. Divorce is an abomination in His eyes. This horrible tragedy is the result of that sin."

"Father Ray?" Natalia said softly.

"Yes, my child?"

"Shut the fuck up and give him his last rites," she said.

Stunned silence reigned as Ray looked between both mother and son. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Rafe.

"You heard my mother," he said firmly and Natalia was proud of the manful tone in her son's voice. "Do as she says."

Ray's face firmed in a disapproving frown, but then pulled a vial of oil from his case and began the ritual.

Natalia tried her best to ignore the screams from the other cot in the room as Gus's breathing slowed and then came to a final stop.

TBC…

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