Chapter 1

 The ropes were digging into my skin, but I didn't feel them, I didn't feel anything. I didn't want to feel anything. Everyone was dead, Mom, Dad, all my brothers and my sister. I was the only one left. I didn't want to be, but I couldn't do anything. The last shot destroyed my soul. I was nothing.

They moved around me, these destroyers. I could hear them, could see them. A plate of food was shoved in front of me, but I didn't care. I just listened, staring blankly at the congealing grease.

"You really think they'll pay that much for her?"

"A blonde virgin? You bet. Know this guy down in Mexico, might pay as much as a thousand for her. Even though her old man was a bust, at least we'll get something out of this."

The two men talking were older, filthy brutes. One tried to feel me up at first, but the other stopped him. Said I was worth more untouched. I didn't try to stop him.

There were five men in the group that rode into our ranch that day. There were only four now. Dad got one of them when they first started shooting, but they got Dad right back. Then Mom, then…

No! Don't think. Don't remember. Do nothing. Be nothing. Then it won't hurt.

There were four of them left and what they did with me, I didn't care. I wanted to die, wanted it over. There was still a part of me that wanted to move, wanted to fight, but I couldn't. The last bullet ended everything there was to fight for. Why fight when there was nothing left worth fighting for?

The next day was the same as the day before and the day before that. I was thrown up on a horse and we rode. All day.  It was the same as the next day, the day after that and the day after that. They made me eat, made me drink. They didn't want skin and bones by the time they got south of the border.

It was the noon break and the horses were scattered around, ground hitched. They were good horses, the best my Dad could buy and raise. Now their sides were heaving and they looked like hags. They would be good again, if these destroyers would take care of them.

One of the men went and watered the poor beasts. He was the only one who seemed to care that those horses were the only thing standing between them a nasty death in the dry wasteland we were traveling through. He rubbed his down and then proceeded to do the same for the others, even the ones that didn't have riders. He was younger than the others, but his eyes were just as dead. Just like mine.

He came over and dropped down beside of me, holding out the canteen. The stream beside the camp offered plenty of water, but it was probably the only water around there. When I didn't move he grabbed my head and poured the water in my mouth.

There was the sound of hoof beats in the distance and everyone jumped to their feet. They scrambled to the horses, the young man grabbing me and throwing me up on one. More riding, into some nearby hills, and then they stopped as one man fell off his horse under the hail of bullets. Three left.

We were hiding behind rocks, bullets flying all over, as the young man was shot. His arms flew out and his gun went flying, his grey shirt turning black as blood flowed down from the hole in his neck. Two left.

I looked at the gun where it had fallen. No one was looking at me. They ignored me like the nothing I was. I leaned over to the weapon, looking at it with a strange fascination. I'd shot a rifle before, but never a pistol. Mom didn't think it was proper. But Mom was dead now.

I picked it up.

It didn't weight as much as I thought it would. I wondered if it still had bullets in it. One way to find out. The guy who pawed all over me, who whispered crudities in my ear any chance he got, the one who fired that last shot; he was beside me.

I put the gun against the back of his head and pulled the trigger. It was easier than I'd have thought. I closed my eyes as blood and other things splattered against the rock. Now, there was only one left.

The one who started it all, the one who lined up my younger brother and sister, he was the one who asked the questions, where's the gold, where's the gold? There was no gold. He didn't believe me. He was the only one left. His arm was bleeding and at the sound of the shot, he turned around to look at me, shock and anger on his face. The rope tying my hands together was still there, but the pistol was held steady in his face. He moved and then he died.

They were dead.

Were they? I looked around in the sudden quiet, and nothing moved. Could they die? Could they actually be killed or would they come back. Could they come back?

I pulled the trigger again, the shot loud in my ears. I hadn't heard the other two, but this one bounced around in my head as the body jerked. I fired again, and this time, it was impossibly quiet, just a little clicking sound as I pulled the trigger again and again at the corpses around me.

I didn't hear anything else. Not till someone took the gun from my hand. They were back. I didn't think they could die.

But that wasn't right. They were still lying on the ground, their blood soaking into the parched ground. This had to be someone else. Who? A quiet voice sounded in my ear, but my eyes were fixated on the bodies around me.

"Ma'am? You all right?"

A gentle hand turned my face around. He looked like a good man. He looked like a man my father would trust. He had kind eyes, and long hair that curled out from under his hat. The hat looked like one Dad had... I turned away from the thought and stared back at the bodies, making sure they didn't move.

There were more men around me, their voices washing over me like waves on the ocean. I'd never seen the ocean, but Mom talked about it. She used to live in Boston and would talk about how the waves would sometimes crash on the shore. That's what the words were like. Some crashing through me, too loud, others whispering soft like the calm water of low tide.

"I thought I only nicked him…"

"Someone should get Nathan up here…"

"Gonna be busy day for the undertaker…"

"Is she all right…"

"How'd he end up with a bullet in the *back* of the head…"

"She's over here, kinda out of it though…"

"I think she shot him…"

"I think she shot *both* of 'em…"

Another hand pulled my gaze away from the bodies; they still hadn't moved. Maybe they were dead. I looked at the dark face in front of me. I'd never seen a black man before. I'd heard stories about them in town. The preacher said they were cursed, that's why they had dark skin. Other people said they were stupid. Mom just said people were people, no matter what the color of their skin. Some were smart, some were stupid.

He asked me a question, but I didn't hear it. His hands ran over me, carefully and cautiously, not like the other guy. The ropes where cut and eased away, and then he looked at my wrists. They were rubbed raw, and had bled.

He kept up a running dialogue, telling me what he was doing. He was gonna clean the scraped areas off. This might sting a little, just gonna wrap them up. That sort of thing. Another man came over, dressed in black, and squatted down to look at me.

"She gonna be alright?"

"Her wrists are pretty ripped up from the ropes, but other than that she's fine. Physically." The black man stood up and walked off a few steps, keeping his eyes on me. "Don't think she's thinking straight though." He was whispering, but I could still hear him.

"She say anything?" The man in black had cold eyes that seemed to bore into me.

"Not a word. It might just be shock but…" The black man looked away, his dark eyes going sad. "It's like something broke in her. Don't know if she'll come out of it or not."

"Keep an eye on her. I don't want her blowing anyone else's head off." The man in black turned away and went to the join the other men. They were gathering up the bodies, tying them to the same horses they'd stolen.

The colored man came over to me, and with a hand under my elbow, pulled me up. We headed over to the horses and the man with the kind eyes came over. He was leading one of the gentler horses; I used to call her Lady. Dad was going to give her to the banker for his wife.

The two men helped me into the saddle, my skirts hiking up and showing my bare feet. They were filthy, Mom would be mad…

She always said I needed to be more ladylike. I was sixteen now, and playing in the dirt and running around bare foot just wasn't acceptable anymore. I was just messing around with Bobby and Josie. Those two would be getting into trouble otherwise. And Jerry was still too young to play outside by himself, so I couldn't let him wander around alone. I know Mom asked me to help her with the washing but…

Why was I riding Lady?

What happened?

With a ragged breath, it all came back. The last shot. Everyone dead. There was nothing left. Don't remember. Don't feel. Don't think. I was empty. We rode, and only the ropes that no longer bound my wrists had changed.

 Chapter 2

 The town we rode into was fairly small. The kind man led the horses into a corral, while the black man led the four horses with the bodies to what had to be the undertaker.  The man in black, with the cold eyes, just led my horse to the front of another building. There were two others who'd ridden with us, but I didn't really notice them.

They'd all gotten down and were discussing things. Two more men came out of the building and joined them.

"So what do we do with her?" This was from the large man with the mustache. He and the younger one stayed behind me during the ride and seemed to argue back and forth most of the time.

"Put her in the jail," the man with cold eyes said.

"What?!?" The other men looked at him with shock.

"She killed two of those men. I don't want someone running around who shot a guy in the back of the head." He looked at me, his eyes cold and haunted.

"Chris, you don't know what was going on, or what they did to her before you got there." A big man with a beard of grey stubble spoke, standing beside a smaller man in a fancy, green coat. They were the ones who came out of the building. Only the big man joined the conversation, the other just looked at me, his face blank and his eyes sharp.

"Something did. Ain't seen that look often, but she's not all there." The guy with the mustache also looked over at me where I still sat on the horse, his eyes serious and full of regret.

"Exactly. I don't want her wandering around town and deciding to shoot someone cause her head ain't on straight." The man in black, Chris, didn't even look at me.

"But we don't need to lock her up, do we?" The youngest looking one, in a bowler of all things, spoke. He looked to be about as old as Alex would be. I still miss Alex.

"Until we know what happened, I don't think we should lock her up. We'd be no better than the men who were holding her in the first place," the grey beard added.

"We won't know what happened until she says something. The telegraph didn't say anything about any survivors, let alone them taking the girl." The mustache man looked at Chris.

"Someone needs to stay with her." Chris seemed to be easing up his position, though his cold eyes looked everywhere but at me. "I don't want her wandering around by herself."

They all stopped as the man in the fancy coat left the group and stood beside the horse I was on. He held a hand out for me like I was some grand lady. When I didn't move, he kept his hand out and said "You don't have to come down if you wish not to, but I must think that you have spent more than enough time in a saddle of late. I believe we can come up with a solution that is more appropriate than leaving you to remain there."

I don't know why, but I swung my leg over and slid down, his hand holding mine to hold me steady. He then tucked my hand into the nook of his elbow and led me to the bench. He had a pronounced accent, his words drawn out and soothing. I sat down and looked at him. He was smiling at me, not a big smile, but a kind little grin that pulled up more on one side than the other.

"Ezra, what the hell are you doing?" Chris snapped at this man.

"You must excuse this rabble, miss. They have been isolated out here far too long and their manners have become sadly lacking. Now, my name is Ezra Standish. And you are?"

I blinked at him. I was nothing.

"Well, since you don't feel much like conversing at the moment and since we can't keep referring to you as the young lady, or miss, how about we a suitable alternative to address you by." He sat beside me and made a show of rubbing his chin in thought. The kind man and the black man had joined the group. The kind man was grinning, as was the grey beard and the black man. "Well, with that delightful face of yours, I don't think you came from this mortal realm. So you must be an angel. Shall we call you Angel, than?"

He looked at me, waiting for an answer, but I had no words left in me. I blinked again and he seemed to take that as answer enough.

"Angel it is then."

"Ezra…"

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Larabee, with treating her like a person instead of a burden?" The soft tones of Ezra's voice had turned cold. The smile never left. "Now I'm sure you would enjoy the opportunity to freshen up."

Angry footsteps could be heard leaving.

"What's with Chris?" the younger one asked. The mustached man got a worried look in his eyes, and followed the man. "Buck?"

Ezra held his hand out to me again, and I automatically put mine in his. It seemed the easiest thing to do. He pulled me up and we walked the few steps to the black man.

"Now, I am sure you met Mr. Jackson here earlier. He is the closest thing we have to a doctor in the area. If it is acceptable to you, perhaps he can take you to his clinic and give you a chance to refresh yourself. It will also give him an opportunity to inspect your injuries." Again, he seemed to wait for me to say something.

"Most people just call me Nathan, ma'am." The black man, Nathan, took my hand from Ezra and led me to the clinic. I could hear the voices of the other men as they continued to talk.

 ***

His clinic was a small room, with a bed on one side and a cot on the other. There were shelves covered with books and a bunch of other strange things I couldn't begin to name. Nathan sat me on the bed and then poured some water in a basin. Bringing it over with a clean cloth, he dipped the material in the water and proceeded to wipe it across my forehead. The cool cloth eased some of the ache I didn't realize I felt.

"Sorry the water's cold, but it gets pretty hot in here if I light the stove and it's hot enough already without adding to it." The cloth went into the water and out again.

"Actually cool water is probably better right now any way. Ain't no fun spending too much time in the sun in this weather. At least you don't got sunstroke. You can get that real easy if you spend too much time out in the sun. Got a bit of a burn on your nose, but that's it."

Nathan wrung the cloth out again and with gentle hands finished wiping the dust from my face.

"I'm just gonna take these bandages off and then we can clean them sores." The bandages were sticking and he didn't have an easy time taking them off. He kept apologizing, but I didn't move. The pain helped me not to think.

"There now, they're off." He pushed my sleeves up, and with the same gentleness cleaned around the raw strips ringing my wrists, and then with clean water, rinsed the weeping wounds off.

"Your dress is pretty dirty now. Maybe Mary has something you can borrow. Mary, Mrs. Travis, owns the paper here. She's a good woman. Stands up for what she believes in. Helped save my life once." He looked me in the eyes. "There now, all done. Don't think I'll put any bandages on that right off, just let them breathe a bit, but we gotta keep 'em clean though."

My eyes went to the door, hearing the footsteps coming up the stairs. A gentle knock and then the door cracked open. The young man stuck his head through.

"JD?"

"Think Angel'd like something to eat?" He stepped in the room, a tray in his hands. "Mrs. Travis made this up for her. She also said something about some clean clothes and such."

"Do you wanna stay with her, while I talk to Mary?" Nathan poured out the dirty water and wrung the cloth out, leaving it to dry along the edge of the basin.

"Sure, no problem." JD looked over at me, a little uneasily.

"Just try and get her to eat something and make sure she drinks some water. After all that riding in the sun, she's probably a little dehydrated." With that, the healer left the room. JD put the tray down beside me and sat in the chair by the window.

"You hungry? Mrs. Travis is a great cook." He looked at me uneasily, and then glanced down at the tray than back at me. "Think she's got some chicken and biscuits for ya."

The quiet seemed to weigh heavily on him so he got up and sat next to me.

"Nathan says you should eat something." He pulled the napkin off the biscuits and then handed me one. I held it in my hand, feeling the residual warmth from when they were baked. Why were my hands so cold?

The man got a slightly frustrated look and pushed my hand up near my face. At least he wasn't stuffing food in my mouth like…

I didn't remember. I didn't want to remember. It didn't matter.

I took a bite, but like everything I'd been forced to eat, it tasted like sawdust. Once started though, I finished off it off. He next passed me a cup with water in it.

To save him the bother I drank it. The cup was replaced with another biscuit. I nibbled on it, but wasn't exactly hungry. The light from the window started to turn orange. I guess the sun was setting.

JD got up and returned to the chair. He looked at me with dark, serious eyes, as if unsure what to think. He did look like he was about Alex's age. Alex was the oldest. He left the ranch about two years ago, after a big fight with Dad. There was a lot of yelling, and the next morning Alex was gone. We heard that he hooked up with a cattle outfit heading west. Few months later, we heard that the cattle had been stampeded. Those not killed in the stampede were later shot by the rustlers who used the stampede to get the cattle. No one survived.

I looked away from him, and the memories he brought up. I was tired, but I didn't want to sleep. To sleep was to dream, and to dream was to remember.

The door opened and Nathan came back in. JD looked at him like he was the second coming. He nodded to me, said a soft good night ma'am and was out the door. Nathan just put the bundle under his arm down.

"How ya doing now?" He sat beside me, after moving the tray out of the way. I still had half of the biscuit in my hands. "How about I take care of that for you?"

He took the uneaten portion and put it back on the tray with the rest of it, and then put everything up on the counter.

"You're probably pretty tired by now. Mary gave me a nightgown for you, as well as a dress and things. They'll probably be a mite big, but it's better than nothing, right?" He gave me a big smile and then pulled out the white cotton. "Now let's get you changed so you can get some sleep."

He pulled me up, and then started to undo the buttons at the back of my dress. Some of them were already missing, from when that man had ripped at them. The memory made me shiver.

"Ain't nothing to worry about ma'am, just gonna get you out this and into that nightgown. Then you can lie down and get some sleep. I won't hurt you." My dress fell to the floor, leaving me in my chemise and bloomers, but the nightie was quickly pulled over my head.

"There now, that wasn't so bad now was it?" The material was soft and well worn. The sleeves were too long and the gathering at the wrist had loosened over time so that the cuffs slid over my hands. It was too long, with the material pooling on the floor around my feet. "It is too big. Well, least it's clean. How about we get you lying down."

A few minutes later, I found myself in the bed. I was getting so tired. The light blanket was over me and I was curled up on my side. Nathan sat in the chair that JD had vacated, reading a book. A lamp had been lit against the coming dark, its steady light painting shadows on the walls.

I could feel sleep tugging at me. I didn't want to sleep, to dream, to remember. Don't think, don't feel, don't remember. I forced my eyes open wide, jerking against the pull of sleep.

"It's alright. You're safe here."

I wasn't safe from my memories. I didn't *want* to think, I didn't *want* to feel, I didn't *want* to remember.

"You can sleep now. Ain't nothing left to worry about."

Everyone was dead. There was nothing left. So why worry? My eyes traced the cot across the room, following the outline, looking at the blanket folded up on the end and the pillow propped up at the head. It looked like an army cot. I'd seen the one my Dad had. Dad had been in the army during the war. Mom had looked after the ranch and we were far enough away from things that we weren't that affected by it, except for the lines of worry around Mom's eyes that got just a little bit deeper every time the casualty lists went out. I was just a kid, and didn't understand what all was going on. Bobby was just a baby. Alex and Steve helped out where they could.

What did it matter that Dad came back safe and that he was proud of how well things where kept while he was away. They were all Dead now. Steve died like Dad, shot soon after the raiders rode in the yard. Their bodies…

NO!

Don't think! Don't Feel! Don't Remember!

Be empty. Don't think, don't feel, don't remember, don't think, don't feel, don't remember, don't think, don't feel don't…

Running through my head, the words drove out the memories, but not the sleep that soon over took me.

Chapter 3

Jerry was staring intently into the water, trying to see the frog that had sunk into its depths. At four years old, he wasn't allowed out by himself, so I decided I'd take him with me as I escaped laundry duty. Mom would get mad at me later, but it was too nice a day to be boiling water for washing. Bobby and Josie were near by, trying to skip stones on the still surface of the pond.

The sound of gunshots shattered the summer day.

I grabbed Jerry and ran away from the pond. Bobby and Josie were ahead of me as we tried to get to the house without drawing attention to ourselves. As we got closer, I pulled Bobby down. Josie was too short to really see over the tall prairie grass. I crouched over and kept Bobby's head down.

I could see what was happening. Dad was dead, but so was one of the raiders, their blood pouring out on the packed dirt of the yard. Steve was behind the well, firing shots off with the old Sharps. He fired a shot in front of the horses, trying to get them to bolt.

There was a shot from inside the house and he turned around in time to see the young man come out and fire the shot that killed him. Steve slumped over onto the ground.

Two of the raiders hooted and ran into the house. The other just kept a look out while the young man went around to the back.

"Bobby, take Josie and go to the Campbell's. Tell them what's happening." It was too far for Jerry to go with them. "Jerry and I'll hide. And keep your head down. Don't let them see you."

With that I sent them off and pulled Jerry tight. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I didn't know what else to do. Had to find a place to hide. They were probably after the horses so going to the barn wouldn't be a good idea.

I slid over to the house. There was a shed where Dad kept his tools and the plow. The plow didn't get used much, this was a horse ranch after all, but Dad didn't want to leave it where it could get wet, and since Mom mostly used it in the garden, it was kept near the house. There wouldn't be enough room for the two of us, but Jerry could hide in the back.

Jerry was terrified. He was clinging to me, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. I didn't want to leave him, but I didn't have a choice.

"It's okay, Jerry. You gotta stay here though." I eased open the door and hustled him inside the cramped space. I was right, with the plow, there just wasn't room for me. "You gotta be real quiet, and hide in the back. Don't make a sound, and don't come out till you hear the Campbell's. You remember Uncle George."

"He brings me candies."

"Yeah, he does. You don't come out for no one but him or me. You understand."

His tear streaked face nodded at me.

"Everything will be alright, I promise." I gave him a quick smile and then closed the door.

I was still by the shed when they spotted me. I tried to run, but the young man was too quick. He grabbed me and threw me to the ground. His knee was in my back as I struggled to get up and fight him. I had to live, I was the one they had left, and someone had to look after the others.

He slammed my head into the ground and then I was too dazed to do anything. By the time my head cleared, he had a gun digging into my ribs, and I was stuck. There was nothing I could do.

He brought me to the others and I felt tears well up as I saw Bobby and Josie huddled together. They didn't get away.

One of the raiders, the men who destroyed my parents' dream, came up to me, his face a network of lines and his eyes bright.

"Where's the gold, little girl?"

That brought me up short. Gold? They thought we had gold? Nobody had much cash money right now, and gold was almost unheard of.

"What gold?"

"Don't play dumb with me, girl, or I'll shoot that little brother of yours." At least the bastards didn't have Jerry. Jerry was safe. "I saw your Pa bring that gold into the bank a month ago. Where's the rest?"

"We don't have any gold!" I was getting scared. That bit of gold was from a miner from California. He traded the small nuggets to Dad for the black gelding. Dad used it to pay off most of the loan he had from the bank. The horse, Lady, was going to pay off the rest.

"I told you not to play dumb, girl." He turned around and in slow motion I saw the other raise a pistol and aim it at Bobby. A shot rang in the air.

I gasped awake.

NO! NO! NO!

With trembling hands, I ripped away the covers and on silent feet, crawled into the corner. I sat there staring out in the dark, my knees up against my chest and rocking back and forth.

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead…

They were all dead. I couldn't stop them. Dead 'cause of me. I could feel the tidal wave of darkness come over me. I didn't stop them. I did nothing. They were my responsibility and they were dead now because of me. I didn't take care of them.

Don't think, don't feel, don't remember. Let death come. It was only what I deserved.

A hand stopped the rocking. Words were whispered, but all I could hear was the sound of gunfire. Shots in the quiet that shattered my soul into a thousand pieces. Hands lifted me up, and put me back on the bed. I made my way into the corner and drew my legs up.

Don't think, don't feel, don't remember.

The voice tried to talk to me but I didn't want to hear it. To listen would be to think. To think was to feel and to feel was to remember. Don't think, don't feel, don't remember. It was the only way I could exist now.

The room eventually grew lighter. Every time I started to rock, trying to keep my mind from thinking, a hand reached out and stopped me. So I didn’t move. Instead, I dug my nails into the palm of my hands. After a while I started to feel wetness dripping down. I didn't care. It kept me awake, it stopped me from thinking.

It was light now, and people came and went. Voices talked, some to me, some ignoring me, some loud and angry, others soft and quiet. I must have dozed a few times, but each time, I jerked myself out of it.

Don't think, don't sleep.

I clenched my fists tighter, the pain keeping sleep at bay. Why was I so tired!?! I didn't have this much trouble staying awake before.

Don't think, don't sleep.

Someone pulled open a fist, and the voices got loud again. I jerked it back, pushing my hands under my knees, my nails digging in again to stay awake.

Don't think, don't sleep.

Don't think, don't sleep.

Don't think, don't sleep…

Chapter 4

I jerked awake out of the memory of a shot. Something was different. It was dark again and I was lying down. It was also quiet. A match flared and the lamp was lit.

"I thought I heard you wake up." A woman? "I'm Mary. Nathan asked me to sit with you tonight."

I looked at her, and then looked away. She looked like Mom. Same blond hair, same kind eyes. I could feel the bandages on my hands. I pulled them out from under the blanket and looked at them, wondering when they had been wrapped.

"They must be pretty bad nightmares."

My eyes snapped to her. How…

"My son used to have nightmares. He didn't want to go to sleep at night. He'd do just about anything to stay awake. Sometimes I'd read to him until he fell asleep." She made her way over to the chair by the bed. "Do you want me to read to you?"

She was so calm, and at the moment, I was so scared. I could feel the memories just out of my reach. I knew I'd been dreaming when I'd fallen asleep. I didn't want to remember. But I was still so tired.

"It's alright to sleep, I'll make sure you don't dream, okay?"

I kept looking at her, wondering if that was true. Could she do that?

"I just had a new book come in, and I haven't had a chance to read any of it. It's by Charles Dickens." She got up again and retrieved the book, bringing the lamp with her. It went on the table against the wall and she opened the book up to the first page. "I've heard it's very good.

"Shall we start it together then?" She gave me a smile and then started to read.

"The Personal History of David Copperfield. By Charles Dickens.

"Chapter 1, I Am Born.

"Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry simultaneously.

"In consideration of the day and hour of my birth…"

Her voice read on, describing his birth. The words washed over me, as I tried to stay awake. I fell asleep anyway. But she was right. I didn't dream.

By the time I woke up, Nathan was sitting in the chair. My eyes darted around the room looking for her, but she was gone.

"Oh good, you're awake."

I looked back at him, wondering where Mary was.

"She went to get you some breakfast. She'll be back in a few minutes. How about I take a look at your hands, see how they're doing?" He held a hand out, waiting for me to respond. I struggled up and looked at them. A little blood had seeped through the bandages that went from my palms down past my wrists. I turned them over and looked at the traces of blood that dried under my nails and around the edges. When Nathan picked up a hand, I didn't resist.

As the bandage came away, I could see the series of half moon cuts across my palms. Around the cuts the flesh was red and puffy, and they still wept a little. The sight turned my stomach and I looked away as Nathan wiped them off with a damp cloth. The hand was wrapped up, and then the same was done for the other.

By that time, the door opened and Mary had returned. She had another tray of food with her, as well as another bundle.

"Good morning, Nathan," she said brightly as she put her burdens down. "Good morning, Angel. Did you sleep well?"

She didn't really wait for an answer, as she passed a plate to Nathan.

"I figured you hadn't eaten yet and it's as easy to cook for three as it is for two."

She picked up the other two plates and sat beside me on the bed, putting one of the plates on my lap. She held a fork out to me.

"Thank you ma'am." Nathan dug in with relish while I sat and looked at the fork.

"You need a fork to eat, and you need to eat, Angel." She just kept holding out that fork, waiting for me to take it. Eventually I did. It felt awkward. Mary looked at me and waited for me to start eating. I looked at the plate with its fried potatoes and scrambled eggs. Another biscuit sat on the side, this time with jam on it.

"Eat, Angel." Her tone brooked no argument so I started to eat. Once I started, I realized I was actually pretty hungry. The eggs soon disappeared, as did the biscuit. I was surprised that I couldn't finish the potatoes though. While I was eating, Mary and Nathan talked about people, how they were doing and such.

They finished about the same time as me and Mary stacked up the dishes, and then handed me a cup of milk. She just looked at me until I drank it.

"There now. I bet you're feeling better. So how about we get you looking a bit more presentable and then we can get you out of this room."

"Mary, Chris ain't gonna like…" He was interrupted as Mary glared at him.

"Mr. Larabee needs to learn a bit more compassion. She doesn't need, nor deserve, to be locked up in this room" She waved him away with a playful hand, a smile gracing her face. "Now shoo."

"Shoo???" He looked at her like she'd grown a second head.

"Yes, shoo. Angel is going to change and I think she'd like a bit of privacy when she washes up. So shoo." She had stood up, picked up the tray and motioned to the door with it.

"Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am. I know when I'm not wanted." He smiled as he took the tray and made his way to the door, chuckling. "'Shoo' she says…" his voice was cut off as the door closed.

"There now, I'm sure you're dying to get clean."

Twenty minutes later, I was as clean as I was gonna get without a tub of hot water to soak in. The sleeves of the blouse I was in were rolled up and the skirt was a little long. There was even a pair of old boots sitting by the bed. Mary was brushing my hair, keeping up some talk about one thing or another. It was taking a while to get all the knots out.

She talked about her son, who was staying with his grandparents till school was out. She talked about the social the ladies in town put on a few weeks ago and the upcoming dance a few weeks hence. Then she went on about her paper, how sometimes there was enough news to print nearly four pages, while other times, there wasn't enough to fill half a page.

With a practiced twist, she had my hair up in a bun. A few stick pins later…

"There now. That looks better. Too bad Nathan doesn't have a mirror in here. Let's see if those boots fit well enough and then get out of here. I'm starting to go stir crazy myself. I don't have any stockings for you so you'll have to make do with socks. That's always better for unfamiliar boots anyway."

It had taken a while, but we managed to even get my feet clean. The socks went on, then the boots. They were a little large, but the socks helped. Then Mary took my hand and we went outside.

We walked down the street, while Mary nodded at people she passed. Sometimes she'd stop and talk for a few moments before moving on. Most people tried not to look at me, their eyes flitting over to me and then looking away uncomfortably. A few would openly stare at me, concern and pity warring on their faces. Why should I care?

We passed the kind man during our walk. He tipped his hat at us and unlike everyone else, he smiled at me, and bid me good morning. He said his name was Vin Tanner. Then he said good morning to Mary and we moved down the boardwalk. Then we ran into Chris.

"Mary, what are you doing?" His eyes were cold as he came at us.

"What does it look like we're doing Mr. Larabee, we're having a walk." Mary gave him a gracious smile, though her eyes looked about as cold as his.

"I thought I told you…" He put a hand on her arm and was pulling her away. She interrupted him and with another cold smile pulled her arm out of his grip.

"You do not own me, Chris. Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do."

"I'm just trying to look out for you." His eyes darted away and he looked rather uncomfortable.

"And who is looking out for Angel?" she snapped.

"That ain't her name!" He snapped right back.

"So? Should I just call her 'that girl' like you do. She needs our help, Chris. Can't you see that?" She toned her voice down and looked over to me.

"Dammit, I just think…" Chris also kept his voice down, but his tone was just as harsh as before.

"Angel needs people around her who are calm, right now. You aren't. Good day, Mr. Larabee." With that she turned from him and left him standing there. He pulled his hat down low with a jerk and then stepped off the boardwalk into the street. He walked away, his steps angry, but his posture looked almost… hurt.

Mary was back by my side. She set off at a brisk pace, not really noticing as I kept my eyes on Chris. But soon he slipped into a building and was gone from sight.

"That man…" Mary was still a little angry, her mouth compressed together as she shut her mouth before she said anything else. "I don't know about you, but I could use some peace and quiet." She continued as we reached the end of the boardwalk and brought me to a large building standing off by itself. There was a large spire with a bell in it so it was either a church or a school. Since there were no kids around, it had to be a church.

"Josiah?" Mary opened the door and peered inside, bringing me with her. The inside was dim. Some  of the windows were boarded up, while others let in the morning sun. There were candles lit on the altar and a few pews lined up against the walls. It wasn't a very new church. The grey beard was inside, scraping old paint off the far wall.

"What can I do for you, Mary?" He dusted himself off, and came down the aisle.

"I was just out for a walk with Angel and I thought we'd stop by."

"I'm glad you did. I'd been meaning to come by and see her. How's she doing?" He came up to us, and like Vin, smiled at me.

"Better than yesterday." There was a note of profound relief in her voice.

"So I see." He smiled at me even more. "What do you think of our church, Angel?"

I was looking all around me, taking in the new place. It was calm here. I walked over to one of the unbroken windows, looking up at the painted panel on the wall and the person depicted within.

"I think that means she likes it." Mary grinned at me as I looked at her, before looking back at the panel.

"I'm happy she does."

I could feel them both watching me as I moved away from the panel and sat on the front pew. I could feel the quiet here as if it was a tangible thing.

"Josiah, may I ask you something?" They were both behind me, and moved closer to the door.

"Of course." His voice was soft, but I had good ears, and in the quiet of the church it was not hard to hear their conversation.

"What's bothering Chris?" She had the same exasperated tone in her voice as earlier. "I haven't seen him act this way before."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look at how he treat's Angel. He practically ignores her whenever he's around her and half the time he's threatening to lock her in the jail. I just about hit him yesterday for that comment he made." I could hear her as she walked around, not fast, just a few steps back and forth.

"He had a valid point." The wood groaned as the grey beard, as Josiah sat on one of the pews.

"I don't care. Can't he see she's not like that?" She must have sat beside him because the footsteps stopped.

"When a person has seen something that broke them up that much inside, you can't tell how they're going to react. She did kill those two men." His voice didn't change, staying that soft, easy tone that reminded me of… no, don't think.

"* I * would have killed those two men, and it would have hurt a lot more than a bullet in the head. Josiah, you didn't see the horror in her eyes yesterday. She's hurting and all Chris can seem to think about is what he thinks she *might* do because of that hurt. I don't think she'd lash out at anyone." Mary's voice rose in pitch and then went down again, easily expressing her concerns.

"But she could."

"It doesn't matter. It's not her fault that this happened to her. Why can't he give her the benefit of the doubt?" A hand slapped wood.

"He can't afford to. He's entrusted with the safety of this town. If she hurt someone, it would be his fault because he didn't prevent it," he explained.

"That's ridiculous."

"Not to him."

"Does he really think that way?" There was an almost incredulous note in her voice.

"He takes the safety of his men, this town and everyone in it very seriously."

"If something happened, *if* Angel actually hurt someone, which I really don't think she's capable of, it wouldn't be his fault. It would be the fault of the bastards who did this to her."

"Chris doesn't see it that way." There was a pause as this seemed to settle in. After a few seconds, I could hear Mary stand up.

"He would think the world rests on his shoulders." She sounded resigned to the situation, her vexation spent. "Well, I really should get back. Angel should probably eat something and I promised Mrs. Potter I'd see her about her advertisement after lunch."

Josiah also got up and they moved to the front of the church. My eyes were locked on the altar and the wood panels that decorated it. Each portrayed a different scene from Christ's life. The front was of Jesus, carrying the lost sheep back to the fold. On the side I could see was the Resurrected Christ holding his hands out to show the marks in his palms. It was the front panel that I couldn't take my eyes away from.

"Angel? We have to get going." Mary came up beside me and with a gentle hand under my elbow, tried to pull me up. I just sat, watching the Shepherd and His lost sheep. "Angel, we should go."

I quickly shook my head, and continued to look at the panel. Mary just looked at me, with a strange look on her face and then glanced at Josiah, who had a similar expression.

"I guess that means she'd like to stay." Josiah sat beside me. "Angel, would you like to stay here for a while?"

I just nodded, almost annoyed when I knew they knew that's what I wanted.

"I suppose I can come back later and see if she wants to leave then. Josiah, would you mind?"

"Not a problem."

With that, Mary left, a happy note in her steps. Josiah watched me as I watched the Shepherd. It was quiet just sitting there. After the bustle of the street, it was… nice. I didn't think anything would feel nice again. There was a warmth here and a forgiveness. What I'd done was unforgivable, but here I could at least feel a little peace.

After watching me for a few minutes, Josiah got up and went back to scrapping the old paint off the wall. It raised up some dust and he had a kerchief over his mouth and nose. He looked a bit like a bank robber like that. He was too nice for that though.

The soft rasp as he sanded off the last remnants of paint of the old planks set up a soothing rhythm. I'd never thought much about God. It was something that was a part of my life that I never paid much attention too. I believed in God. I just never thought much about Him.

Now, I just sat and looked at His Son and the lost sheep. He had such a tranquil expression on His face. Did He forgive the sheep because it had gotten lost? Did the sheep wander off or was it taken? Did it matter?

Could I be forgiven? I didn't want to be, I didn't deserve to be. I shouldn't be in this place, my darkness just dimmed the light here. But I couldn't make myself leave. It didn't hurt so much to think here.

***

That afternoon, Mary was busy so I found myself back in the care of Nathan. He was busy dealing with the day-to-day ailments of those in town, so for the most part, I sat on the balcony outside his clinic. It was interesting to sit and watch people who didn't realize I was watching them.

I could hear conversations as people walked underneath me and watch their interactions across the street. I could also look into their wagons and see what they were hauling around. People have the strangest things in their wagons. Why would someone dig up a sage plant?

Sitting in the sun was relaxing, and I could feel myself drifting off to sleep. No, didn't want to sleep. So I listened to the conversations below me instead.

"That poor girl." Two sets of quick footsteps had drifted to a stop and there were two women gossiping.

"Oh I know, could you imagine what happened to her to make her like that."

"I don't want to think about it." Me either.

"I mean to be left without a thought in her head." Hey! I had a thought in my head. I just didn't want to think about it.

"I wonder if they're going to send her to an asylum or something."

"Well, I wouldn't want some crazy girl wandering around town."

Is that what was wrong with me. Was I crazy? I hadn't said anything since… there just weren't any words left in me. Would I be sent away from here? Where would I go? What would happen? Did I really care? After what I'd done… They were all dead.

"That's for sure. Still, it's a pity it had to happen to her." The footsteps started up again, the last words almost drowned out by two men heading into the Saloon. "A real pity."

"So I figured that the pump just needed priming, but it still won't work. I tell ya, the missus is getting pissed at me. Why do we need a pump in the house anyway?"

"Think of the alternative, Bill. She could make you go to the well every time she wants to wash something. Ever thought about how often a woman wants to wash something?" Those two went into the bar and soon after, two other men paused outside, the creak of wood implying they were leaning against the railing.

"Ain't right, that girl staying here."

"Ah, Hank, she ain't done you no wrong."

"Yeah, but I heard she shot them men herself. Right in the back of the head." I don't remember that. If I did that, shouldn't I at least remember it? I remember gunshots, blood. Riding. I remember riding.

"Do ya blame her?"

"Well, no." There was a pause as the man moved from foot to foot. "But she ain't right in the head. What if she decides all men are like that and starts taking pot shots at everybody?" Would I do that? I was crazy, wasn't I, and crazy people sometimes hurt others. I don't remember shooting anyone, but they said I did.

"Oh, like Larabee's gonna let that happen."

"Who do you think told me she shot those men?"

"Larabee told you?"  His voice was thick with disbelief.

"Well, no, but I overheard him when they brought her in. He ain't happy she's here, and neither am I." Could I hurt someone?

"Hank, you're full of it. Besides which, you were gonna buy me a drink, not gossip like some old biddy." Their conversation ended with the swish of batwing doors and nobody immediately came to take their place.

But my mind didn't stop. Would a crazy person know they were crazy? Would they care? Did I care?

I didn't want to know, I didn't want to remember, I didn't want to think. I rubbed my palms against my side, the bandages that covered them scratching at the cuts underneath.

Would a sane person do something like that, hurt themselves like that? Guess I was crazy. There were two more sets of footsteps on the walkway underneath, and I latched onto them, hoping to distract my mind. I didn't want to think.

"Hey Buck." It sounded like the young one.

"JD, you going in?" That sounded like the guy with the mustache. Guess that's Buck.

"Nah, too nice a day. Thought I 'd enjoy it." There was a slight hesitation in the young guy's voice.

"Chris is drinking already, ain't he?" It wasn't much of a question.

"Started an hour ago."

The response was too soft to hear, but it sounded bitter. There was quiet for a few moments, as the two men sat. At least they stopped moving around.

"Buck, what's eating him?"

"Now, JD. That's not exactly something I can just talk about."

"Aw, that's bull shit and you know it. You’re the only one who might know and if he's drinking this early, I think we ought to know."

"Kid's right." That was the kind man. Vin. I hadn't heard him join them.

"Vin…" Buck sounded reluctant to talk. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to talk either. I didn't think I'd like what I'd hear.

"We ought to know." Vin was almost too soft to hear, but the afternoon had become quiet and only a few people were left on the street. It took a while for Buck to answer.

"Happened during the war. Chris, me and a group of men had scouted out a Rebel camp. Hell, they were more bandits than anything else, using the war as an excuse to do what they wanted. And what they wanted was this girl. They had her trussed up against the tree, and well, they weren't exactly nice to her. She'd been badly used.

"Chris figured it weren't right to just leave her there so that night, he snuck in and cut her loose. She had that same dead look in her eyes. He brought her back to our camp and the doc looked her over. She was pretty roughed up, but he said she'd survive. She would wander around the camp, doing whatever needed to be done, like laundry and such. Some of the boys took a real shine to her. But she weren't exactly right in the head.

"One night, we heard a gun shot, then another and another. Me and Chris, we rushed over to see what was going on and there that girl was, six-shooter in her hand and three bodies laying around her. She took another shot and another man went down. By the time I got to her, she'd emptied the gun.

"Of the six men she shot, five died." Buck had gotten up and was heading into the Saloon.

"What about the last guy?" JD asked. There was a pause in Buck's steps.

"That was Chris."

Chapter 5

That night, I stayed at Mary's. She made a bed for me on the floor of her bedroom and had a clean nightie for me. I wasn't paying much attention though. I couldn't make myself stop thinking!  Crazy thoughts ran around my head, bouncing around, and hurting.

I was crazy. I knew I was crazy. How much in my head was real? How much had I done that I couldn't remember? I don't remember shooting those men. Just the echoes of gunfire and questions. Always questions. A shot, more questions, a shot, more questions. A single shot out of the silence that filled me with dread. Everyone was dead. Then riding. Nothing but riding. Then I was here. But there was more. I knew there was more.

But I didn't want to know. I didn't want to remember.

I fell asleep, but my mind didn't stop. The dreams didn't stop. And in the dreams I remembered.

I remembered the bodies of Dad, and Steve. I remembered telling Bobby and Josie to run. I remembered hiding Jerry in the shed. I remembered getting caught, rough hands holding me down, slamming me into the ground. I remembered the gun in my side, the sheer terror when I saw Bobby and Josie, huddled together in the yard. They were crying and I couldn't go to them.

I remembered the questions. Where's the gold, where's the gold? I remembered my answer. We don't have any gold. I remembered the man turning around and the other shooting Bobby.

He just slumped to the ground and Josie screamed. She tried to run, but one of the other men grabbed her. She bit him and he backhanded her. She was too stunned after that to do anything. And I just watched, frozen. Bobby was dead. He was dead cause I didn't have the right answer.

The young man still held me but I don't think I could have moved, even if he didn't. The other guy turned back around and asked me again.

There ain't no gold. Just the bit Dad got in trade and that went to the bank. I begged him to believe me, but he didn't. He just told the other to shoot Josie. I could hear her whimper and the soft moan as it took her a moment to die. I couldn't stand anymore and the young guy let me fall. I stared at the bodies of my brother and sister. How could I let that happen? I'd told the truth and they were dead. It didn't matter what I said, they were dead.

They were going to sell me. South of the border they could get money for me. I had to get away, I couldn't let them take me, Jerry would need me, and there was no one else. I scrambled from the ground and ran for the prairie grass. If I could just get away. The young guy had left, leaving just two. I could get away. I had to.

And then the last shot. It wasn't aimed at me.

It couldn't be. Not Jerry. Not him too. I was frozen again. I couldn't move. I had to know. One of the men came from around the back, dragging a little shape by a foot. He'd got the last one he called out. They were dead. They were all dead. Nothing was left. There was no reason left to run. I no longer mattered.

They came after me, where I was just sitting in the dust, not moving. They grabbed me, one of the men groping me, ripping at the buttons of my dress before the other stopped him. But it didn't matter.

They went after the horses, leading them off. They threw me in a saddle and it didn't matter. The days bled together as we rode. They made me eat. They made me drink. I did nothing. They threw me in the saddle, they pushed me off. Till there was more gun fire.

One of the men fell, then the young guy was shot. I picked up his gun and shot the other two. I thought it was over. I hoped it was over. I wanted to die. But I didn't. Just more riding.

The scenes played out in my dreams, over and over, till they melded together in the thunder of gunfire. I finally woke up to the darkness.

I didn't gasp. 

I didn't scream, though I wanted to. I could feel the scream in my head, but it couldn't get out. I looked over at Mary, and she was still asleep. Good.

I got up and walked across the floor, then out the door. In my bare feet, I barely made a sound. I soon ghosted out of the building into the dark of an alley. I didn't want to be seen. I didn't want to be stopped.

They were right. I was crazy, and I wanted it to end. At the end of the alley, I stopped and listened. There were footsteps across the street, going away from me. Good, they wouldn't see me. I stepped into the flickering light of the street fires. They lit the street rather well, and I saw the building I was looking for. I slipped into the Livery with no one the wiser.

The hay on the floor prickled at my feet, and a part of me was glad this was a well-kept business. I didn't want to die with dirty feet. I went down the stalls, looking at the horses. They snuffled at me and a few whinnies could be heard. Then I found Lady. Why they'd kept her here, I didn't know. I was just glad she was there. I led her out, her bridle the only thing I could find. I'd ridden her bareback enough that I didn't need a saddle.

I led her out the back, grateful for that exit. We walked away from the town until I was sure they wouldn't hear us. Then I hopped on her back, the nightgown riding up to show an indecent amount of leg. Well, Mom could scold me in person soon enough.

I let Lady run. My hair whipped out behind me and the white material of the nightgown billowed in the wind. There was a bit of a moon, just enough to see the trail we were following. I felt free for the first time since those gunshots rang out.

The scream that was inside of me quieted, replaced by a sense of purpose. I knew what I had to do; I knew what I was going to do. I'd had enough of this life, there was no reason for me to stay. If I was damned for what I was about to do, so be it. I was damned already. I did nothing to stop the deaths of my brothers and sister. It was fitting that I should die as well.

As the darkness started to melt, I slowed Lady. She had set her own pace and though lathered, wasn't that winded. I hadn't an idea where I was, but it didn't matter. I just had to get out, get away. There were some rocks up ahead that rose up out of the ground. It was as good a place as any.

I turned Lady towards them, and when we got there, I left her. We weren't that far out of town, she could find her way back. I climbed up, trying to find a high spot. I wanted to watch the sun rise. I used to do that before, get up early and sneak up on the roof of the barn to watch the sun light up the world. I wanted that just once more.

Finding the right spot I looked out at the lightening sky. The black was already mostly gone, the sky turning a dark blue and getting lighter. In the east, the first hints of color were showing. A little splash here, a little color there. A few wisps of cloud started glowing a bright gold.

Soon the sun peeked out, and light hit the land around me. First a brush of soft yellow that quickly grew stronger the more the sun rose. The colors grew till the world in front of me glowed with strong pinks, brilliant oranges, and muted yellows.

It was incredible. I sat, watching till all the colors had faded and the sun was high in the sky. I ignored the faint hoof beats. Now it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered.

I picked up the one thing I had brought from Mary's place. It was a small kitchen knife. I remember this cut Mom got once. She cut her finger all the way down to the bone, and the blood just spurted from the cut. There was a lot of blood for such a cut, and it had taken a long time for Mom to get the bleeding under control. By the time she did, she was as pale as a ghost.

How much quicker would the blood flow if I cut my wrist to the bone? I took off the bandages that wrapped up my hand and wrist. The half-moon nail marks on my palm had started to heal and the raw marks on my wrist had scabbed over. The sharp metal of the knife bit into my skin. One quick, deep slash, and it was done.

Blood flowed.

It stained the ground around me.

The hoof beats were louder now. But they were too late.

A darkness surrounded me that held no thoughts, and no dreams.

Chapter 6

I was waking up.

That wasn't right; I shouldn't be able to wake up.

They stopped me! They shouldn't have. I wanted to die, I was supposed to die, I deserved die! There was a hole inside of me, I was already dead inside, and I just wanted my body to follow my spirit.

My wrist throbbed. I pulled it to my stomach and curled my knees up, rolling over onto my side. A hand was placed on my forehead, but I smacked it off. I had one hand that still worked.

"Easy, child." It was Josiah.

I rolled to the other side and curled up tighter. I still hadn't opened my eyes. I didn't want to see anything around me, I didn't want to be reminded that I'd failed in this too. The door eventually opened.

"Is she awake?" It was Nathan.

"She was a few minutes ago."

"Angel?" I could feel him leaning over me so I kicked back with a foot, hitting something solid. Why didn't they let me die?

"Guess that means she still is." Josiah almost sounded amused.

"Next time, you see if she's awake."

"You asked, Brother."

"I suppose you think this is funny." Nathan snapped, the sound of flesh rubbing against cloth, made me think he was rubbing where I kicked him. Good.

"No, Brother, there is nothing funny about this." All the lightness left Josiah's voice.

"No there ain't." Nathan agreed. "Angel, I need to check your wrist, see if the stitches are okay."

I buried the wrist in question into my stomach, and pulled my knees up over top. I shrugged off the hand on my shoulder. He tried to roll me over and I scooted more into the corner.

"Josiah, give me hand. I don't want to hurt her."

Between the two of them, they dragged me out of the corner. I opened my eyes and glared at them. Josiah had a solid grip on my good arm and Nathan eventually managed to sit on my legs. That left my sore wrist. I used that hand to punch Nathan, right in the chin.

Unfortunately that sent a blinding pain up my arm that almost made me black out. He managed to grab my sore wrist and before I could argue, was unwrapping the bandage. I stopped fighting, spending too much energy trying not to pass out.

He seemed satisfied, and quickly wrapped it back up. I couldn't get my hand away from him, his grip was too strong. Now that he was done, he got up and quickly got away before I could kick him again. Josiah followed suit. I curled up on myself again and went back to my corner, glaring at them.

"It's alright Angel." No, it wasn't. Nothing ever would be again. "Why don't you try and get some sleep."

I was already tired; fighting them seemed to take what little strength I had. I felt my eyes drift shut and snapped them open. I didn't want to sleep. To sleep was to dream and to dream was to remember.

"You can't stay awake forever."

But I could try. I glared at Nathan, and then Josiah, watching as they turned away and started to ignore me. Josiah sat back in a chair, while Nathan started putting away the jars and bandages still on the counter. I tried to stay awake, but eventually my eyes shut of their own accord.

When I woke up again, it was quiet. I was still curled up, facing the wall now. The nightmares in my head quickly faded. My wrist still throbbed and I eased it into a more comfortable position. I could hear someone else in the room, so I didn't move again. They would leave me alone if I was asleep, so I'd pretend I was asleep.

The door opened, but this time it wasn't Nathan. It was the quiet tread of Vin. He was the only one who walked so softly in boots you could barely hear him.

"Didn't expect to see you up here, cowboy."

"Nathan and Josiah needed a break. They were up all night watching her." What was Chris doing here?

"What about Mary?" I could hear Vin moving around the room till he sat on the cot opposite the bed.

"Mary doesn't need to see her like this."

"Still think she's gonna hurt someone?" There was a pause before Chris answered Vin's question.

"Just herself." There was silence for a few seconds where the only sound was the subtle shift on the cot.

"Finally got some news on them horses." I listened as Vin talked, wondering what he was going to say about Dad's horses. "They come from a ranch about a week's ride north of here. They found the rest of the family dead. They even shot the kids. The oldest daughter's missing though."

"Think she saw them die?" Chris asked.

"Reckon she did."

"Ain't an easy thing to live with." The conversation died with that and the only thing I could really hear was faint bustle of life outside the confines of the clinic.

***

I woke to words. I heard the words before I became aware of anything else, even the throbbing in my wrist. They washed over me. I was almost annoyed, but I recognized the voice. It was Mary, reading.

"This adventure frightened me so, that, afterwards, when I saw any of these people coming, I turned back until I could find a hiding-place, where I remained until they had gone out of sight; which happened so often, that I was very seriously delayed. But under this difficulty, as under all the other difficulties of my journey…"

I listened as she continued to read to me from David Copperfield. I didn't catch much of the actual story line, but just the sound of the words was… soothing. The words followed me into sleep.

I seemed to sleep a lot and the sleep wasn't easy. I wasn't awake for more than a few minutes at times, and whenever I woke up, there was someone there, usually one of the seven men. sometimes I'd wake to Mary reading to me, other times, I didn't recognize the person. Usually I stayed curled up, ignoring them.

Till, one time I woke up, and I was alone. Finally, they'd left me alone. I got up out of the bed, walking uneasily to the cupboard, madly opening the doors trying to find a knife or something, anything that I could use. I still wanted to die.

I finally opened a drawer, seeing what I was looking for, but before I could do anything, Chris grabbed me from behind. I kicked wildly, trying to get free. I could see the wicked gleam of the small, funny little knife in the drawer.

The more I struggled, the tighter the bear hug I was in became. Emotions that had been buried, that I'd ignored, welled up. They were all dead, and I just wanted to join them. My struggles grew weaker as the grief and sorrow started to overwhelm me.

I started to shake. They were dead. They were gone and I was alone now. I'd never see them again. The grip around me loosened a bit and I could hear him whisper in my ear.

"Dying ain't the answer. May seem like it, but killing yourself won't bring them back."

I started to shake even harder and soon found myself crying. Tears streamed down my face that I couldn't stop and silent sobs broke free.

"Ain't no easy way to deal with it. You just gotta live. It ain't your fault they're dead. It ain't your fault."

My legs gave out and the two of us crumbled to the floor. He was still holding me while I cried out my soul.

"It ain't your fault."

Chapter 7

Who would have thought a person could contain so many tears. They just wouldn't stop once they started. I wasn't hysterical or something, I just couldn't stop the tears that streamed down my face. They would ease for a moment and then with a thought would start up again.

There were whispered reassurances, some I heard, some that just flowed over me like the air that made them possible. Chris was there, as were Mary and Nathan. Josiah talked to me and Ezra popped in for a moment. I heard them come and go, and still the tears flowed. And they continued to flow as I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 8

I think I'm getting better. I don't know if you can get better when you're crazy, but I feel better. I feel like I've been asleep and have finally woken up. The nightmare is still there, but I can think about it without feeling like… well, like it's all my fault. I've been thinking a lot, there's not much else for me to do as I sit on the balcony of the clinic. I don't want to go around the town, with everyone staring at me. I had enough of that earlier. I don't really like listening to what people are saying either. Fortunately I'm no longer the main topic of conversation, but I'm starting to feel like I’m eavesdropping. So that leaves thinking.

And since I have so much time, I've been doing a lot of that. I've gone over what happened so many times, it's like a play in my mind. I thought about what else I could have done and was shocked when I realized that the robbers knew all about my family before they came. They would have kept looking for all of us no matter what. It wasn't easy to see that, but they knew that there was one more child loose and were already looking for Jerry once they had the rest of us.

It's still hard to think about him. He was so young, so full of life. It was the thieves who shot him who were at fault. And they were dead. That was something I could do for my family and I did it. I shot those bastards the way they shot Bobby and Jerry. It didn't make me feel any better though. Everybody was still dead.

I still don't talk. I guess the words are gone and there's nothing left to say. I noticed the piece of paper and pencil that Nathan left for me, but there are no words. I picked the pencil up once and just stared at the paper, but couldn't make myself write anything down. The people looking after me had enough to worry about; they didn't need to deal with my sorrow.

I'm getting to know them all. Mary I know the best. I spend the most time with her, though I still sleep at the clinic. Guess they don't want me running off in the middle of the night again and Nathan is a very light sleeper. But Mary lets me help her with the paper. It's not easy work, but it gives my hands something to do and I like the smell of ink as we run out copies of the paper. She still reads to me as well.

Nathan is another person I spend a fair bit of time with. The cut on my wrist is slowly healing and I don't always feel so great. I guess blood loss and such has something to do with that. But he finally took the stitches out and as long as I'm careful, my wrist doesn't ache too much. I almost can't believe I caused the healing scar, but I have the evidence right in front of me. Then again, I'm not exactly thinking straight all the time.

At least I'm getting used to my mind again and don't feel like a stranger to myself. In a way I think Nathan understands. His eyes speak of things in his past, they speak that he knows what it's like to simply have too much to handle. Then he'll smile at me and tell me that things will get better. And I believe him.

Josiah takes me to the church. I still like to sit there, it's one of the best places to think. He'll ask me questions that I answer with a nod, a shrug or a shake of my head. We actually have some interesting conversations that way. He's a perceptive man who easily picks up on whether I want to listen, or if I just want to sit and think.

JD is the Sheriff. He seems kinda young, but there was a guy near our place that had owned his own spread since he was nineteen, and in the three years he was running the place, he expanded it into well run ranch that was actually making money. I had a bit of a crush on the guy and liked to visit with Mom. She wouldn't let me go alone.

Anyway, JD was the one who came to tell me what was going to happen with Dad's horses. They belonged to me now and since I was legally too young, I was going to need a guardian. He'd telegraphed the sheriff at Millcreek, the nearest town to the Ranch, and was making arrangements. He seemed so serious when he was talking to me, but I know that when he's with his friend, Buck, he laughs and kids around just like Alex and his friend used to. He also told every one my real name. I still like Angel, but I was born Rebecca Jenkins. Josiah still calls me Angel.

Buck is an interesting character. He's one of those men Mom warned me about. But I like him anyway. I like the way he and JD joke around. Sitting on the clinic balcony, I can hear them banter as they walk around town.

Ezra is another of those men Mom warned me about. But I don't think he's after my virtue so much as my horses. Not seriously though. I can see in his eyes that he has his own sadness, and that when he taught me to play poker (under the auspice of wining some of the horses) that it was to help me pass the time without dwelling on my problems. Those afternoons pass quickly.

I don't see much of Vin. He's a quiet one. He took me once to see the horses. I'm not sure why, what could I do for them that he hadn't already. I almost didn't want to go. I was afraid of what I would feel when I saw them. But as they came up to the fence and stuck their wet noses in my hand looking for a treat, it felt right somehow. It was a familiar action that didn't spark the negative feelings that still so often tried to overwhelm me. They were like a dark cloud that often seemed to hover, but not that day. I sat on the corral and watched the horses dance, reveling in the warm familiarity.

That left Chris. I'm still trying to figure him out. He's avoided me since… I'd watch him as he'd walk around town. He seemed almost possessive of the town at times. Although, that's not quite right. He's possessive like a parent is of a child. Most people avoided him, in an unobtrusive manner, but few of the town's folk stopped to talk to him and most seemed uncomfortable when he was around. He seemed to have his own cloud hanging around him and he didn't seem to mind the darkness that surrounded him. He cared, I know he did, but he hid it behind this darkness.

He also understands me. More than anyone else, for all that he's been avoiding me. I can see it as he looks up at me where I often sit, and the harsh expression on his face flees for an instant. It's not pity, it's not false understanding, he knows! I don't know what happened to him, but he knows what it's like to want to stop living. Does he have a scar similar to mine?

Why did he choose to keep living? I'm not sure why I have chosen to keep going. But the decision is made, for both of us, and we are trying to live with the consequences. Strange that we seem to have something in common; the leader of a group of lawmen, a hardened gunfighter with cold eyes and a harsh demeanor, and a mute, scared, crazy young woman in borrowed clothes. Life is strange.

Chapter 9

I was working with Mary when a ghost rode into town.

I'm not sure how long I'd been in town, but it's been a while. I was shocked when I looked at the date on Mary's paper and found out it was early August. Last date that I remember was May. But the days still run together a bit and the while when I first got here is still kinda fuzzy. Needless to say I've been at this small town for a while now.

I'm staying with Mary again and spend most of my time helping her out. I have a knack for getting the typeset ready. It's pretty mindless work; read the article and put the letters in the right order. But it keeps me up with what's happening in the town without me having to deal with people.

I still don't like dealing with people. Most folks are uncomfortable with the fact I don't talk and I'm tired of seeing pity or something worse in their eyes. I like to get out and sit outside, but only when it's pretty quiet. Just after the sun comes up is the best time. The other is late at night, but Mary throws a tizzy if I do that too often.

Those are the only times the town is quiet enough for me. And it's not like anyone's going to bother me. Most people still consider me crazy and I'm inclined to agree with them.

The only other time I go out is to go see the horses. Josiah was appointed my temporary guardian until the search for any extended family was completed. They won't find anyone. But between him and Ezra, they sorted out what needed to be sorted out (mostly sending Lady back to the banker in Millcreek to finish paying off the loan and then leasing out the ranch and I was a moderately wealthy woman. Like I cared.

All that meant to me was that the horses where taken care of and I finally got a pair of boots that fit properly. I had a few nice dresses now, but mostly wore old cast-offs from Mary cause let's face it, working that press was a messy business. And who cares what I look like? I don't.

So that afternoon, I'd just finished setting up for tomorrow and was wiping off the little bit of ink that always managed to stain my fingers. I put the rag down and looked out the window to the young man who was riding in. He looked familiar, but it wasn't until he got closer that my hand started to tremble.

He rode up to the jail and asked JD a question. That sparked a flurry of action that ended with Chris and Nathan taking him inside; Chris' harsh look appraising the man, and concern gracing Nathan's feature.

I just stared at the door they entered, unable to move. The shivers that ran up and down my spine were causing my whole body to tremble and I could feel my knees about to give out, so I sank down onto the floor.

He was dead! We mourned him. But that obviously wasn't true, since he just rode into town. But how? They said he was dead, but he's not. Alex was alive, my brother's alive. And that meant I wasn't alone.

I wasn't alone.

Alex would understand, he had to understand what happened. I wouldn't see pity in his eyes. Please don't let me see that in his eyes.

I got up quickly, still feeling the shakes in my body, and without caring that my dress was ink spotted, that my hands had black smears all over them, or that my hair was working it's way out of its bun, I stepped out of the Clarion.

A part of me was deathly afraid that this was all just some delusion my mind had come up with cause I couldn't handle things any more, but the horse tied to the rail by the jail was still there and I remembered that horse. I walked quickly down the street, ignoring the slightly startled looks I got.

As I got closer, I could hear the voices coming from the jail. Alex was definitely not impressed with what happened. He wanted to go kill the bastards again. Nathan was trying to calm him down, but without much success since Alex had Dad's temper. I almost smiled.

I opened the door, and all eyes turned to me. Alex stared at me for a moment, the anger and rage in his eyes quickly melting away. And then he stepped up to me and swept me into a bear hug. I don't think I'd even seen him cry, but his eyes were as full of tears as mine, as he just held me and I held him. I think we were both amazed that the other was alive.

I couldn't figure out if I was laughing or crying or some strange combination of both. Alex looked so much older than I remember. The last two years hadn't been easy on him. He had that same haunted look that I could see in Chris, that I saw in me every time I looked in the mirror.

"Are you okay? Let me look at you." Alex gave me a once over, making sure everything was where it was supposed to be. Brothers! I nodded at him, trying to give him some answer for the questions he pelted at me and getting frustrated cause I couldn't.

"Aw, hell, Becky. I shoulda been there. I never shoulda left in the first place. If I'd been there…"

I grabbed his head and made him look at me, his eyes a reflection of mine. Then I shook my head at him. I had enough guilt of my own, I didn't need his, and he was a lot less to blame than me. That and the only ones truly to blame lay dead on Boothill!

"Sorry." He sounded so lost, I guess we both were a little lost. "I didn't even know what happened till I came home. There was some couple just moving in the house, and I just sort of freaked. They told me a bit about what happened. George Campbell told me the rest.

"I just wish there was something I could do!" Alex got up and paced. That was the first I realized that we were now alone. "I didn't even know you all thought I was dead! I did write once, but I guess it got lost or something. I woulda written more but you know I'm no hand at writing."

Silence fell over us, as he looked around uneasily.

"I'm just glad that I found you. Are you sure you're okay?"

I nodded at him, wishing I could do more.

"Don't know what we're gonna do now. I ain't got more than last months wages and that ain't gonna last us too long. Never found out what happened to the horses. Hell, they were probably sold the first chance those bastards got."

I grabbed his arm and shook my head at him, but he didn't understand.

"Now don't worry none, I'm sure that there's something we can do. I ain't got much but it'll tide us over till…"

I smacked his hand to stop him and just glared at him. That wasn't what I was shaking my head about.

"What's wrong, Becky?" He looked at me, his face all worried and his eyes sad.

I started rummaging around on the desk looking for something to write with. There were enough pieces of paper floating around, I just needed a pen or something. Snagging up a pencil I started to write, it felt awkward and the words came slowly, but they did come.

horses here

"They are?"

This time when I nodded at him, he understood. He looked at me with his tired eyes, and again I wondered what else happened to put the weariness there. I started scribbling on the paper again.

I'm okay

"I know you are." He pulled me into another hug. "After every thing that happened in the last year, I just wanted to go home, and then when I got there…

"I don't know if I want to go back anymore. Everything there that's important is dead. I saw the graves that the sheriff arranged for everyone. He got some real nice stones an' everything. They're at peace now I think. Ain't nothing more that can hurt them. Do you think you want to go back? Just to say good bye, if nothin' else."

I nodded into his shoulder. Home was gone. Whatever peace there was to find there for either of us was gone now. Too many memories for me and too many ghosts for Alex. But I… I needed to remember something more than their deaths. I needed to be able to see something more than blood soaking into the ground when I close my eyes. After that? I didn't think much beyond the moment. Thinking that far ahead was enough for me, for now.

Chapter 10

"There some nice land still available over in Colorado. I saw this nice valley over in the mountains, nice cattle country. Grass is good and there's plenty of water. Would do good for horses as well. I figured Becky and me could head up there after we'd been to Millcreek." Alex and I were sitting in the restaurant, discussing things with Josiah. Well Alex was sitting and discussing tings. I was watching.

Alex was planning on leaving the horses here for the trip to Millcreek, and then swing back here on the way to Colorado. I liked it here, but where Alex went I went. I had him back and I wasn't going to lose him again. Besides which we both needed time together, to straighten things out and sort things out in our heads. We needed time away from people. Though we'd probably get more than enough of that on the way back to Millcreek.  

 My eyes drifted over to the window, the planes of glass slightly distorting the view outside. From our table nearby, I could see almost all the way down the boardwalk on the other side of the road.  From the saloon just across the street down to the jail, a block down. If I craned my neck, I could even see the church at the end of the street.

I liked to watch the people as they went about their daily business. People going into the stores, people wandering over into the saloon, people parting like the red sea in front of Chris... wait a second. Not that people stepping out of his way was all that unusual, but they usually didn't back away like that.

The darkness that usually surrounded him had grown. It radiated out from him and seemed to contaminate the air around him. I noticed that the conversation had stopped and the Josiah was also staring out the window at Chris, his eyes full of concern. Alex wasn't sure what was happening and so went back to his lunch.

Josiah's eyes met mine and a sadness filled them. I wanted to know what was happening, why Chris seemed darker than usual. There was a repressed anger to him and guilt colored his eyes, which seemed to hide in the shadows of his face. I looked back to where Chris now entered the saloon and then back at Josiah, the question in my eyes.

"Today is not a good day for brother Chris." Was all he said, his eyes now locked on the batwing doors that still swung from Chris' passage.

But why? What had happened that leached all the color from him. I touched Josiah's arm, trying to get an answer to my question, but all Josiah did was excuse himself from the table and leave. Alex look after him, his eyes as full of concern as mine and again wondered what was happening.

I left Alex at the table, wanting to explain to him what was going on, but I didn't quite know how. I didn't even know why I was getting involved. Out on the street, I looked for the others of the seven, but there was no sign of them.

Meeting up with Mary was like a Godsend. If anyone in town knew what was going on with Chris it would be her. Her eyes missed little and if it concerned the town, she knew about it.

"What's wrong, Rebecca?"

I grasped her arm and pulled her into the Clarion, grabbing a piece of paper so I could write down my question.

She looked at the note in surprise, not really reading it.

"You can write?"

I don't think it was really her morning. I glared at her and pointed again at the note.

what's wrong with chris

"I don't really think it's my place to talk about Chris right now, it's not a good time for him right now."

If I could I would have groaned in frustration. I just wrote some more instead.

WHY

"He... it's... just not a good time to disturb him. Not today."

why today

"His family died four years ago today."

how

"It's really not my..."

I was starting to get really annoyed and just waved the note in front of her face. I could tell she was uncomfortable with the subject, and there was sadness reflected in her eyes, but... I wanted to help Chris. He helped me and I wanted to return the favor. In order to do that I had to know what was going on.

After a few moments she started the tale of how Chris' wife and son were killed in a fire. How years later he found out that the fire was deliberately set so that Ella Gaines could have him. Mary didn't give much detail, she didn't have to.  The facts told their story well enough on their own.

As I stood up to leave she grabbed my arm.

"You don't understand..."

Her words trailed off as she realized I understood all too well.

***

Chris was sitting at a table in the back of the Saloon. His hat was pulled down low, he was leaning back in his chair, in the shadows and he had a bottle of whiskey on the table. The empty shot glass was in his hand and his eyes pierced the shadows trying to divine the universe through the refraction of light through the glass.

He put it down and poured himself another shot as I walked up to the table. I got more than a few stares, but no one came to stop me. I guess being crazy had its benefits at times. I pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of him. He glared at me, fury in his eyes, but it didn't work. I wasn't going to leave him alone.

I'd seen a miner, larger than Josiah shrink from that glare. I saw the rest of the peacekeepers of this town back off and give him space as that glare racked across them. But me? I knew what was behind that glare. I knew the hurt, the raw anguish and the soul consuming guilt that fueled the fire in his eyes. It didn't scare me. There were worse things out there than that stare.

So we just sat and stared at each other for more than a few minutes

"Go home Rebecca."  His voice no longer had a cold edge to it. It sounded like he was tired, tired of life and living without them. Was he tired of fighting, tired of the daily struggle not to give in?

"Ain't your fault." I think I surprised myself more than him when I spoke, but I threw his words right back at him. They came out as more of a croak than anything else but it was understandable. "Ain't your fault they're dead. Ain't mine, and it ain't yours."

I looked in his eyes, daring him to contradict me. If he took the blame for his family's death, how could I not? All that and more passed between us as we stared at each other.

He looked away first, putting the bottle back on the table and then looking back at me, the fury gone. All that was left was sadness.  That would never leave, for either of us.

"Guess it ain't."