Distance by Dinasbran

NEBRASKA and BOSTON - 1928

Thursday 2nd February - Welcome to Nebraska

The slight shift in the horse's stance was just enough warning for its rider to easily absorb the half-hearted buck. A firm pull on the reins brought the animal's head back up preventing another attempt even as a hiss of pain escaped through the rider's teeth. The bay, going under the distinctly unsuitable name of 'Lady', had been trying to throw its rider all morning. Now tired and unable to remove the tiresome object from her back the mare had retreated into apparent docility but, every now and then, would resume the attempt.

Don't get rid of me that easy, Red thought, well aware that she'd been given the skittish, troublesome horse as a test. The fact that she had arrived at the railway stop with one arm still in a sling had apparently made no difference to the hands there to meet her. They were obviously deeply resentful about the arrival of a trouble-shooter foisted on them from outside, the fact that the expected 'he' had turned out to be a 'she' had only added to their annoyance. She glanced towards one of the pair of hands acting as her escort and guides, a lean dark haired man with a full beard that had ensnared a number of the falling flakes making it look untimely grey. He was looking at her with a frown of disappointment on his face, obviously not expecting some city investigator to be able to stay aboard the troublesome beast. Let them wonder for a bit longer, she thought smugly, the less they think I know about ranch life the better for my being able to find out what is goin' on here.

Red pulled the brim of the fedora down further in an attempt to keep the lightly falling snow out of her eyes as they continued the trudge towards their destination along the thickly snow covered ground. The newly purchased slicker was keeping the snow off but the cold was making inroads through the layers of clothing. The outsides of her legs, away from the small warmth of the horse's body, were slowly going numb and she envied the heavy-set, red-haired lead rider his old fashioned but effective angora chaps. The combination of the cold and her mount's antics were also making her healing wounds ache, her shoulder in particular was becoming distinctly uncomfortable - especially as the sling had to be discarded for the duration of the ride. Her arm's only support being provided by the gloved thumb tucked into the buttoned front of the oilskin outer layer. The horse's latest attempts to dislodge its passenger had only aggravated the ache, sending a sudden flare of pain down her back and arm and forcing out the automatic hissed reaction.

"Nice mare, I like a mount with a bit of spirit," she remarked easily, casting the nearest rider a mocking grin. "Thanks for finding her for me."

The bearded man stared for a moment before shaking his head and returning to study the trail ahead, though the unwanted visitor just caught the "Dumb-ass city woman," muttered under his breath.

With a smirk, Red lifted her head so that the flurrying snow was now blowing into mildly amused blue-green eyes. Half-closing them against the icy assault, she looked hopefully for any sign of habitation. Her escort had said it was a good half-day ride to the ranch and it had to have been nearly four hours since they had left the isolated train-stop. Peering through the swirling whiteness, she thought she could now make out some unnaturally regular shapes and was that a faint flicker of light? As if in answer, the lead rider gave his mount a sharp kick and began an easy canter toward what was now resolving into a good-sized ranch. All right then, and, relaxing the tight rein the horse had been under since its last bit of misbehavior, Red gave a squeeze with her heels. The response was immediate as the horse swiftly and smoothly moved from walk to canter. She's a nice beast when she ain't trying to throw me. Perhaps I will stick with her, see if I can't get rid of some of those little foibles she's got. The grin reappeared as the thought continued, an' it'll show them that I ain't so easily got rid off.

Bringing the bay to a stop by what appeared to be the stables, Red lifted her right leg over the pommel of the saddle and slid down to land with only the smallest of winces on aching legs. The casual ease of the dismount earned her a surprised glance from the bearded man and she felt a momentary flash of perverse pleasure; however, it had been too long since she'd last ridden for any length of time and under-used muscles were beginning to make themselves known. A feeling of annoyed resignation now settled on her along with the realization that the aches were only going to get worse as she stiffened up.

"Just take her inside," her escort instructed gruffly, gesturing towards the building, "one of the boys will look after her from there."

"No, I'll see to her." Leading Lady past him and into the wooden structure, she found it to be a combination of stables and wagon shed. Pausing for a moment after entering, she breathed in the familiar, long missed smells of horse and hay, leather and wood. Behind the familiar, natural smells there was also the foreign tang of metal and oil that accompanied the flat-bed truck and steam tractor tucked into the open space near the main doors. However, the weather outside meant the new had had to give way to the old, for the moment at least. A noise behind her indicated the arrival of the bearded man with his and the lead man's horses. Glancing in his direction, she saw he was watching her with a slight frown on his face, dark eyes showing a faint glimmer of respect.

"Got a problem, mister?" The words held a hint of challenge but nothing overtly aggressive; she knew the impression given in these first few hours would be important in the days to come.

Realizing that his study had been noticed, he muttered quickly, "No, nothing." Then in grudging acceptance that the strange woman had proved herself so far he offered, "Name's Rick." There was the smallest of pauses before he added, "Richard Steiner." He shrugged at the questioningly raised eyebrow the giving of his full given name had provoked, "Figured you were going to wanna know, being an investigator an' all."

Red gave a brief nod, acknowledging the unexpectedly volunteered information, then indicated Lady, "You always try to get your guests dumped on their butts the moment they arrive?" A shake of the head in exaggerated mock disappointment. "Must admit the hospitality 'round here musta dropped since I left, if that's what now counts as a friendly welcome."

The faintest hint of a smile appeared on the man's face along with the recognition of what he'd just been told, albeit obliquely - she might just have come in from Boston, but she was in reality coming home.

As Steiner turned away to look after his increasingly restless pinto, Red turned back to the bay. Dragging up skills unused in nearly eight years, she began to do the one thing that she and pa had actually agreed on - look after your horse before yourself.

***

"What's wrong with your arm?"

The question was neutrally curious and she'd been half expecting it, having been aware of the dark man noting her slow progress in un-tacking and brushing down her horse. He'd finished his two already and had sat on the back of a wagon bed watching her for the last few minutes, idly chewing a straw. Briefly, Red debated telling the guy to take a hike, but knowing she wasn't going to be able to hide the injury, decided she might as well use it to prove a point. "Got shot," she eventually replied as she threw a blanket over Lady's back - or at least tried to do so as it slid off the freshly brushed back. Clenching her jaw against the flare of annoyance at her inability to do even this simple task and the ever-present fear that she may never be able to lift her arm high enough to do so easily again, she tried once more. This time the blanket went far enough over to stay on Lady's back but didn't land smoothly. Cursing under her breath, she tried one-handedly to smooth the cloth down over the horse's back without causing it to slip onto the floor. There was a rustle from the direction of the wagon and then Rick was on the other side of the bay, holding the blanket in place so that she could finish the adjusting without fear of it slipping off. Giving him a brief nod of thanks, she picked up the feed bucket and headed in the direction she'd seen him take earlier. By the time she returned, the water bucket had been topped off as well.

"Where?"

"Shoulder." Her right hand moved automatically to indicate the entry wound just under her collarbone. "Came out near my neck; arm's been a bit screwy ever since."

"How long ago?"

This guy asks nearly as many questions as Evadne, she thought in growing irritation before grudgingly admitting, "A month or so."

"Only a month? After somethin' like that? You must be mad?" He blurted out, surprise evident in his face.

"So I've been told," Red smiled wryly, "frequently."

With an amused snort, he indicated the doorway with a jerk of his head, "Lady'll be fine now. We'd best get in, the boss'll be wondering where you've got to."

Picking up her duffle bag, she threw it somewhat awkwardly over her right shoulder. Just damn well had to be my left shoulder didn't it! She hated the lack of competency in things she'd previously been able to do without thinking. Although becoming more adept with her right hand in the month since being released from the hospital, she was still frequently and frustratingly clumsy. Good thing I ain't had to use my iron yet, I'd probably blow my own damn foot off.

She indicated that Rick should lead and followed the lean form across the snow-covered yard and up the steps to the white painted building that she assumed to be the main ranch house, a combination of the ranch manager's private dwelling and office. As she walked, she went though the facts she knew about the manager and his family from the files Theo had provided. Frank Wilson was fifty-five years old and had been running this ranch for ten years, having progressed to this job from running a smaller one further south in the state. He'd been working with stock all his life, both horses and cattle, and up until the last year the results of his management had been impeccable. His wife, Rose, also lived on the ranch. Although she had no official duty, Red knew from experience that a lot of the effectiveness of a ranch relied on the manager's wife as much as the manager. The unofficial reports suggested she was as capable as her husband, if not more so. They'd had children but they'd all gone onto their own lives with none living at the ranch anymore. Most had gone on to live the sort of lives you would expect but for the youngest daughter, Margaret. The brief paragraph had caught Red's attention, detailing as it did how Miss Wilson had gone to university - still an extremely unusual action for a young woman, even those from the upper echelons of society. Now in her mid twenties and still single, she was currently working as a reporter for a lady's paper in Omaha.

A stab of pain from her shoulder made her wince. The damaged muscle was now complaining vociferously and she rotated it gingerly, trying to ease the increasing ache before returning her attention to the ranch house. She wasn't particularly looking forward to this first meeting, being pretty damn sure that the ranch manager was likely to be as hostile as the hands had been. After all, Red had been sent to the Lazy 'Y' ranch to find out what they hadn't be able to - why, despite Wilson's impeccable track record, there had been an increasing loss of head over the last six months. Although not many were lost each time, the extremely strange, not to say gruesome, circumstances of the killings, at least as reported, had a distinctly sinister feel and it was this which worried Theo as much as the actual losses.

She followed Rick up under the shelter of the porch where they shook off the worse of the snow before going through the door and into the plain but neat hallway beyond. Here she shed the slicker, not without complaint from a rapidly stiffening shoulder. Although the hall was pleasantly warm, she didn't unbutton the thick thigh-length sheepskin jacket underneath - the buttons were stiff and difficult to undo with her right hand and using her left, especially with the way her shoulder was currently feeling, was likely to hurt enough for her to want to avoid trying. A quick glance revealed a number of hooks on one of the walls with another similar coat and a black Stetson so she added her slicker and the battered brown fedora to the rack. After running a hand through red-gold, hat-flattened hair, she began to give the hall a more thorough examination, noting the prints on the walls and the bowl of dried flowers that gave it a welcoming, homely feel. She was examining a print of a rather bizarre looking square shaped, massive steer when a sound behind her made her turn, surprised to see Rick opening the door, obviously about to leave.

"Hey, where you goin'?"

"Boss just told me to bring you here, I've got other jobs that need doing. "

Giving the man an annoyed glare, she nevertheless nodded her acceptance of his explanation and he disappeared into the snowy afternoon. Passing a mirror, she caught a glimpse of her ruffled and unruly reflection. Replacing the long forelock that had flopped down over one eye, she mentally chided herself for not getting her hair cut before leaving Boston. It was already getting annoyingly long and the likelihood of finding a barber willing to cut it out here was small. With her good hand, she took a few moments to repair the worse of the damage so she at least looked vaguely presentable for her first meeting with Mr. Wilson. A sudden embarrassed grin appeared as she stared at her now much neater reflection, suddenly aware of her uncharacteristic reaction to the untidy hair. Jeez! Since when did I ever bother about such things, 'vadne will nag me into bein' dapper than a dandy at a dance at this rate. A faint disbelieving shake of the head at her mirror self then, still with no sign of any sort of welcome, she moved purposefully towards the nearest door. Her unwilling hosts might want her to stew politely in the hall but politeness had never been a particularly strong trait; indeed, as Evadne had repeatedly and often acerbically pointed out, Red had the manners of a ruffian and, despite the socialite's attempts, no desire to change.

Moving from door to door, she'd soon found all the rooms opening directly into the hall to be empty. A frown of annoyance now began to form - she'd seen the lead rider heading towards the house; they must know she was here and the time she'd been waiting was getting beyond a joke. Idly rubbing her aching shoulder, she turned her attention to the far end of the hall where a corridor ran down the side of the staircase. She was just about to investigate further when an apologetic female voice came from the top of the stairs.

"I am so sorry, I didn't hear the door," then Mrs. Wilson, for who else could it be, was moving down the stairs, "I do apologize for not being here to meet you, Mr. Wolverton, please," she opened one of the doors, "come into the study. My husband should be along soon, he's out at the moment but I've sent Lucky to fetch him."

So, the big red head is Lucky. Mentally filing away the information, she followed the older woman into the room. It also appeared that Lucky had not imparted the news that Mr. Wolverton was actually not a mister.

"Please take a seat, Mr. Wolverton…"

There was a faint hesitation as the older woman finally got a good look at her visitor, followed by a puzzled frown. A woman in pants on a ranch or farm was becoming less unusual, but Red knew that her short-cropped hair most definitely was. Wrapped in multiple layers of clothing, there was little that was obviously female about her appearance. Add to this the fact that she was tall for a woman at five-nine, with broad shoulders, slim hips and nothing much to write home in the way of breasts, and it was no great surprise that she was often mistaken for a member of the opposite sex. Nor would her face be helping much either, it was strong boned enough to be taken for that of a young man, handsome rather than pretty though it seemed to attract a certain type of woman, the broken nose and scar through her eyebrow apparently adding to her roguish charm.

Annoyed at being left to kick her heels in the hall, however accidentally, she did nothing to help the confusion. Instead, the investigator took the opportunity provided to study the older woman. She already knew that Rose Wilson was somewhat younger than her husband, being forty-nine years of age. About five foot seven in height, tall for a woman of her generation, she was what Joe would charitably describe as 'well padded' - bearing five children had obviously not been kind to her figure. Despite this she carried herself well and moved with a lightness that belied her age, combined with the fine bone structure of the face and the neat ankles and wrists it caused a roguish libido to note, with some sadness at how badly the years had treated the woman, Must have been quite a looker when she was younger. The mouse brown hair, tightly controlled in an old-fashioned but not unflattering bun, was showing definite streaks of grey. Her face had that lined, weathered look that suggested she was not the sort of woman to remain tied to her house, confirming the between-the-lines hints that this woman was an active part of the life of the ranch outside as well as in. The blue dress was also somewhat old fashioned but well made and well cared for and suited the older woman well. The overall impression the investigator got was that Mrs. Wilson was a woman who was aware of both her strengths and her shortcomings and how to use the former to her advantage and minimize the latter.

"Well?"

The question had a slightly mocking tone, and Red was surprised to see laughter in the blue-grey eyes as she realized that her study had not been as undetected as planned.

"If I were to be so thoroughly scrutinized by a young man I would be flattered, but you're not a young man, are you?"

Not daft, that's for sure, or easily shocked. If there's anything odd goin' on here she's either in on it or will help find it, "No ma'am, I most certainly ain't."

A sigh of exasperation escaped the older woman, "Oh dear, I wish Mr. Criffy had mentioned the fact. When we saw 'Red Wolverton' we naturally assumed you were a man."

"Naturally," she responded, deadpan.

"I suppose we are going to have to find somewhere else for you to sleep now."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Well, we cleared out a store room in the bunk house for you. We thought you would require somewhere private and thought that would be most appropriate, but you can't sleep there now."

"Why, the men scared I might bite?" A small smile twitched the corner of her mouth.

Stopping dead in her thoughts, Mrs. Wilson looked in surprise at her visitor. "You're not seriously suggesting you sleep there?"

Shrugging, the investigator replied, "If it don't bother them, it won't bother me."

The older woman blinked a few times then shook her head in wonder. "Well, Miss Wol…"

"Red. Just call me Red," then, realizing that having this woman as an ally would likely be an advantage, she added a belated, "Please."

Another blink of surprise then a slight nod in acknowledgement. "Very well then, Red, as I was saying that is very good of you, it certainly saves me the extra work."

There was a slight pause while the older woman continued her mental readjustment, then suddenly realized her visitor was still standing, repeated her earlier offer. "Please, take a seat."

This time Red took the nearest chair with a nod of thanks, glad to be off aching legs. Watching the older woman settle calmly into a chair opposite, she realized that here was an ideal opportunity to fulfill the promise extracted out of her before she'd left. Though unhappy at the idea, she knew that if she didn't at least ask then Evadne would find out one way or the other. At least this woman didn't look like she would go into a fit of vapors at what she was about to asked. "Mrs. Wilson, would it be possible to ask a personal favor?"

"You may ask, of course," the older woman replied warily.

"I was injured just over a month ago - shot in the shoulder and side." The gasp was audible despite the belated attempt to stifle it but the younger woman ignored it, continuing onto her request, "I need help with caring for the wounds, would you be kind enough to assist me with that?"

Recovering rapidly from her surprise, the older woman tilted her head slightly in agreement. "Of course I will."

Red was pleasantly surprised that the woman did not then follow up with the expected questions and concerns. Thankful for that as much as the agreement to help, she bowed her head in gratitude, "That is much appreciated, Mrs. Wilson." Surprising even herself with the gesture, she felt a small wry smile form along with an equally wry thought. Damn me if all that naggin' ain't havin' some effect after all!

"Rose!" The male voice was loud and irritated, "Where are you? This fool says this Wolverton fellow is a woman, I swear he is…" The voice trailed off as a heavily built older man entered the study to come face to face with his wife's annoyed face and his visitor's amused one.

"Frank dear, manners," the older woman chided, as Wilson continued to stare in confusion at the ambiguous red-gold haired figure, "This is Red Wolverton, she..."

"Goddamn it, you are a woman!" he blustered, "Damnation, what is Criffy thinking of sending a woman out here."

"He thinking about sorting out your problem, Mr. Wilson, seeing as you obviously can't. And he has asked me to do it." Red stood up, moving to stand in front of the older man. They were of a height and she held his surprised and angry stare for a tense moment. "I would suggest you have some trust in your employer's judgment, he after all has always trusted yours."

Still flustered by what he, unlike his wife, was obviously finding hard to accept, he continued. "It might be dangerous out here, girl, you might get hurt, ain't right to have a girl get into that sort of fix, it ain't natural. A ranch ain't any place for a chit of a thing like you despite them men's clothes."

Feeling her annoyance rising, Red growled back, "Mr. Wilson, I ain't no chit, and don't you address me like that. My name is Red, or Wolverton if you don't like that, not girl, not chit, not nothing else, is that clear." Even as she was speaking, she was clumsily unbuttoning the front of her jacket. She saw his surprise at being talked back at and then a flash of anger but she ploughed on before he could say anything. "As to being hurt I reckon I've seen more danger than you ever have."

"What the hell you doin', girl?"

"Don't call me, girl!" she snapped, noting his shock at being so addressed before continuing, "Ever been shot, Wilson?"

"No. What the hell's that got to do with it?"

"You worried about me getting hurt," she was now pulling up her shirt, noticing the man's face move through surprise via embarrassment to confusion.

"Ever seen a bullet wound?" she continued. At the man's now completely baffled nod, she pointed to the circular scar above her belly button, "That one?"

A faint nod, then there was a sudden restoration of the combative attitude. "Looks like one, could be some sort of birth mark for all I know."

Growling in frustration at the man's pig-headedness, she lifted the shirt further then pulled down the bandage covering the wound in her side, ignoring the stab of pain it gave at its rough treatment. "And this?" The gasp of surprise from both husband and wife showed that she had proved her point.

"Hell's teeth, gi…Wolverton! You're walking about with a hole like that in you?"

"Yeah, I fuckin' am," she snarled, rising anger at Wilson now fuelled by the pain. The older couple flinched once more, this time at her language. Dropping the shirt, she stared coldly at the now subdued ranch manager. "I am here to do a job for Mr. Criffy. You may not like the fact that I'm here, or that I'm a woman, but that is your problem and I want it to remain just that. I've spent eight years in the investigation business, Mr. Wilson, in that time I have been shot five times, stabbed twice and have killed three men." Now he was looking distinctly pale and Red was enjoying every minute of it as she let a feral grin slowly appear, "An' if you don't wanna make number four I suggest you let me do my job. Is that clear?"

He nodded, and then stammered, "Perfectly clear."

"Good!" A sudden wave of nausea rushed through her as the effects of the last minute's melodramatic display on the still painful wounds cut through the adrenaline rush. "I'll speak to you again, Mr. Wilson, I'm sure you've got something to be doin'?" It was no question and Wilson was smart enough to realize it. He beat a swift retreat, taking the stunned looking Lucky with him. The edge of Red's vision was beginning to blacken as Mrs. Wilson swept passed her to shut the door hard before turning back with a look of anger on her face.

"How dare you talk to my husband like that!"

"He started it," she growled back, making her way back to slump wearily into the chair.

"And in front of Lucky, what will the men think?"

"That I am some hard-ass fuckin' bitch I hope," the growl was sounding more like a whimper now, the investigator realized in dismay.

"Well you've certainly persuaded… are you alright?" The angry voice turned suddenly concerned.

"Don't think I am." Red admitted to herself as much to the older woman, "That was a stupid goddamn thing to do. Evadne will have my guts for garters when she finds out." Wish she was here now, a suddenly self-pitying thought prompted, even with the lecture I'd no doubt be receivin'.

"Evadne?"

"My business partner."

There was a brief pause as Red closed her eyes against the resurgent pain. There was a gentle rustling of cloth then the faint smell of lavender and, without even thinking, she commented, "Nice scent."

"Why, thank you." The surprised reaction came from just to her side then Mrs. Wilson added tentatively, "Do you know you are bleeding?"

Eyes snapping open at the comment, Red peered down to see the faint red spotting on her shirt. "Oh great, must have knocked the scabs off with all them histrionics. An' it's a real pain getting blood out of these shirts." Ah well, time to take up on the favor a bit earlier than I'd expected. "Mrs. Wilson?"

"Of course. I'll just go get some water on the boil. I should have something that will do for a bandage."

"There are some in my duffle - use them."

"We'll go to the kitchen; we should be undisturbed in there."

"Yes, ma'am." The long distained respectful mode of address came out without conscious thought. That's weird! The half-amused thought accompanying the realization that there was something about the location and the older woman's authoritative presence that was taking the investigator back to the time when she'd worked as a hand. Ah well, it ain't doin' any harm and if it makes up for the dressing down I gave her old man then it's no skin off my nose. Following the older woman into the hall, Red grabbed her duffle and followed down the corridor into a large, well-equipped kitchen. Digging out the spare dressings, she was surprised to hear the sound of running water. Glancing up, she saw that the kitchen had a faucet, not something common in such isolated outposts even now. With the kettle now on the large stove to boil, Mrs. Wilson leaned back against the side of the chimneybreast, arms folded over an ample bosom to look at their strange visitor. "Why are you here, Red, really? Mr. Criffy's letter was vague to say the least. Does he suspect us of something?"

Carefully considering her words, the investigator replied, "He wants an unbiased outside view of what is happening here, Mrs. Wilson. He is not looking for a scapegoat. Mr. Criffy is quite aware of how well you have run the place up until this year. I have no list of suspects," she noted the slight sigh of relief before adding warningly, "nor is anyone above suspicion either."

There was a nod of understanding from the older woman then she removed the now boiling kettle off the range. Pouring some water into an enamel bowl, she moved back to the table, dropping a square of clean cotton in it to soak as she turned to her unexpected patient. "Out of that shirt now."

It didn't take long for hands that had cared for five children through to adulthood to swiftly divest the younger woman of the jacket, coat, vest and shirts, the latter being placed in another bowl to which more boiling water and a good handful of salt was added. Once that was done, Mrs. Wilson turned her attention to redressing her visitor's wounds.

Red rolled her eyes in annoyance as she once more felt disbelieving fingers touching the scars. It was obvious that, despite the listing in the study, the older woman was still surprised by what she could now see. Yeah, well, can't really blame her, after all one set should have been, were fatal and I bet she ain't missed that. A wry smile appeared as she wondered how she must appear, must look like a right patchwork mess of old scars an' new stitches.

The surprise didn't last long though and soon practiced hands had cleaned and redressed the wounds. Helping the investigator back into a fresh shirt, she commented disapprovingly, "I'm surprised your partner - Evadne was it? - ever let you come out here in this state. You shouldn't be aggravating those injuries like this." The older woman was momentarily taken aback by the distinctly angry scowl that was suddenly turned in her direction.

"That really ain't none of your business now is it, Mrs. Wilson?" Red growled, annoyed by the implied criticism of her friend, then the scowl softened a little, "An' believe me, if Evadne an' Joe couldn't talk me out of this, you ain't a cat in hell's chance of doin' so."

***

She really shouldn't have been surprised when Mrs. Wilson had offered to show her the layout of the ranch buildings, at least as much as could been done comfortably in the still falling snow. The older woman had exchanged her house shoes for a thick pair of socks and sturdy boots and donned a warm looking blanket coat before adding the slicker and Stetson hanging in the hall.

As they walked, the older woman gave a knowledgeable and succinct summing up of the main points of interest. Having walked the immediate perimeter, they next visited the stables. Red was glad to be out of the wind and snow - though the exercise was easing her aching legs, the cold was doing nothing for her shoulder and side. Despite having reluctantly retrieved her sling from the duffle - her arm now supported diagonally across her chest - the damaged muscles were still complaining vociferously at the day's activities. She was pleasantly surprised when Lady gave a brief nicker of recognition at her entrance. Moving over to where the bay was gently tossing her head, she reached up to rub the area on the bay's forehead that was marked by a distinctive white star. "Why couldn't you have been this friendly earlier, eh?" she muttered as the head moved appreciatively under the firm scratching.

"They gave you Lady to ride?" The annoyance in her guide's voice was obvious, "I shall speak to my husband about that."

Red glanced back as she continued the scratching, "Please don't, ma'am. I don't need another reason to get their backs up even more." She turned back to the horse. "You weren't that bad now were you, little Lady?"

There was a faint harrumph of annoyance from Mrs. Wilson who then added, "Never seen her so affectionate."

"Probably recognizes someone as stubborn and willful as she is." Red replied lightly, then, with a final pat to the horse's neck, returned to where the older woman was waiting. Nodding in the direction of truck and tractor, she commented, "See you ain't behind on the latest machinery."

"No, Mr. Criffy is most forward thinking about such things, even if his vision is not appreciated by all."

"Not everyone's happy to see the horse replaced by horsepower?" She wandered over to take a closer look at the vehicles, which, although covered in a faint layer of dust, looked to be well oiled and in good condition. "Look's like someone knows what they are doin'."

"That'll be young Lefty, he's taken a real shine to them. He'd spend all his time tinkering if given half the chance."

Mrs. Wilson led Red through the length of the stables and out of a smaller door on the far side. The tour took them through a large, Dutch style barn that seemed to be primarily used as a hay barn, though there were also some stock pens, then passed a number of smaller storage buildings and a new looking stock-shed where some unexpected but, with their red bodies and white faces, instantly recognizable cattle were being kept from the biting cold of the February weather.

"You've got Herefords out here, didn't think they'd be up to this sort of climate?"

"Frank has an idea about cross breeding with the shorthorns, trying to get a better meat yield."

Something about the way the older woman spoke made Red think that she didn't hold any truck with the idea. They carried on along the edge of a large corral and now they were heading toward another domestic building. The investigator's instinctive identification was confirmed as her guide spoke.

"That's the bunkhouse. The cookhouse is next along and the outhouses are around the back." She glanced at the taller figure by her side, "You're still sure about bunking there?"

"Yeah." She made a brief mental inventory of what she'd seen. "That it, ma'am?" At the answering nod from her guide, she muttered, "Best get my bag an' then get myself settled in."

***

Striking a match on the rough wooden doorframe, Red applied it to the wick of the hurricane lamp and re-hung it from the hook in the ceiling. With this light added to that coming through the small window, she was now able to see that the room was simply but comfortably furnished. There was a bed in one corner, with a sturdy wooden frame and, when she bounced experimentally on the edge, what appeared to be a decent mattress. The bed was already made up with functional linen sheets and blankets, an unexpectedly homely touch being provided by a patchwork quilt over the top. At the foot of the bed was a chest, empty except for a couple of spare blankets. In addition to the bed and a small bedside table there was a good-sized desk and two chairs, another paraffin lamp sat on the surface of the desk. The usual threesome were also provided, the jug and bowl sat atop the bedside table, the gazunder in its usual place under the bed.

The only other item of interest in the room was a small stove tucked into one corner, a gentle orange flicker visible through the grated hatch in its front. It was obviously a recent addition, the hole in the roof through which the pipe passed was new; however, the stove looked to be old and unused for a time, probably dug out from some forgotten corner to make the makeshift bedroom livable in the intense cold. It had been lit long enough to take the chill off the room, but the smell of burning dust and damp soot was still yet to clear.

Inspection complete, and to the now usual accompaniment of muttered curses, she discarded the slicker and sheepskin jacket. Picking up the duffle bag, she emptied its contents on the bed and sorted through the clothes. Most were only cold but some were damp from where melted snow had inveigled its way through the thick canvas. The merely cold were soon transferred into the chest, the rest were draped over any suitable surface to dry. A pair of flannel pajamas, though not wet, were also draped over a chair and placed near the stove. Cold nightclothes were a pet hate, one that had caused her socialite friend a certain amount of amusement when the fact had been discovered and which she was still gently ribbed over whenever the opportunity arose. Finally, the leather valise, still in its protective oilskin jacket, was idly tossed to lie on the desktop.

Happy with her personal arrangements she turned her mind to making her face known. Scowling at the need, she nevertheless replaced the sling and moved back to the doorway - she wasn't quite as blasé about sleeping in the bunkhouse as she'd made out and had already noted that the door was sturdy and lockable. Withdrawing the key, she turned out the lamp and left the room, locking the door behind her.

She walked up the short corridor made by the two storerooms, one now her room, to the communal area. Mrs. Wilson had told her that this part of the bunkhouse had been the original settler's first house. Built with sod walls, the ubiquitous Nebraska marble, plastered and whitewashed on the inside, with small windows that were now glazed and shuttered, it provided a sturdily effective defense against the weather. A second door, in the left wall of the room, she reasoned must lead into the main bunking area. The room was functionally, even sparsely, furnished with a large table lined with benches and a couple of ancient rockers near the stone built chimney in which burned a welcoming fire.

Four men sat at the table playing cards, and it was a few moments before they noticed the additional presence, then four pairs of eyes turned in her direction. Lucky looked at her with a wary expression, the overheard words obviously having made an impression. The other three were as new to her as she was to them, and she wondered what Lucky had told them. Of these, one was a young man with an open face who, by the way he was holding the fan of cards in this right hand, was most likely the machine loving Lefty. The other two were both older men and looked at the intruder with a mixture of distrust, distaste and, in one case, distinct malevolence.

"Howdy," she greeted the men evenly. There was a grunt of acknowledgment from Lucky and the two older men just returned to the study of their cards, however, Lefty continued to look in her direction, a mixture of awe and disbelief on his face.

"You really killed three men?"

Well that answered the question about how much Lucky had told them.

"Yeah, Lefty," his start at the use of the nickname showed her guess was right, "I have."

The slight young man with a tousled mass of curly brown hair gave her a look of surprise. "You know my name?"

"Ain't difficult to spot a fellow southpaw an' Mrs. Wilson mentioned someone called Lefty - jus' had to put two and two together." Needing the warmth, Red moved to the fireplace then turned back to face the men even as the welcome heat eased her many aches. "So when's chow in this place?"

"Six, unless working." A puzzled look passed over Lefty's face, "You're chowin' with us?"

"Unless anyone has any objections," she looked at the two older men but nether said anything. "So what's the cook like in this place?"

Lucky finally plucked up the courage to speak, "He ain't bad, considerin'."

"Considerin'?"

"Considerin' he's seven sheets to the wind half the time."

Red nodded her understanding before asking him, "Any objections if I use Lady while I'm here?" There was the stillness she'd hoped her comment would provoke, then an amused snort from behind her. Turning, she saw Rick in the doorway to the bunkroom.

"I reckon you suit each other; two hard-ass, cantankerous females should work well together," the wry grin on the lean, bearded face took any sting out of his words.

"Yeah, I reckon so." Red grinned back and the atmosphere in the room relaxed noticeably. Rick moved towards the fire, ostensibly to warm his hands by the fire then, after a glance to the table, whispered. "Watch out for One-shot, he's not happy 'bout having some trouble-shooter here, an' he is really pissed that you're a woman," he looked up so that his dark brown, almost black eyes met hers, "An' I mean really pissed." He gave a wry smile. "I suspect he's also less than happy that your reported body count is higher than his, he only claims to have killed one man but he's been living off that reputation for years, you've just trumped him in spades."

Acknowledging the warning with a faint nod she moved away from the fire to stand near the other men, "Well, ain't it time we introduced ourselves, seeing as we're going to be sharing this space. My name's Wolverton, Red Wolverton, if you don't already know. I'll answer to Red, or Wolverton," She gave the men a quick once over, gauging their reactions but seeing no real change. "Now Rick has been good enough to introduce himself already, what about the rest of you, an' I don't just mean your nicks." This was a test of authority and she could see on their faces that they knew it as well as she did. Most hands only ever went by their nicknames. In times not long past not even the boss would know or even ask for a hand's given name. In those too-often lawless days, the reluctance was out of self-preservation - many not wanting their names known in case they came to the ears of the law. Now it was more a matter of pride but was often still stubbornly insisted upon, indeed she doubted the men in the room knew each other's full names despite living hand in glove.

Unsurprisingly it was the open-faced Lefty that responded first, "Sam Scarratt," he offered his hand and Red shook it, "Better known as Lefty, for obvious reasons."

Nodding her acknowledgement, she released the grip and stared at Lucky who muttered under his breath, "Michael Sullivan."

That left the two older men - the first, a small man with brindled hair and beard bristled at the challenge before grunting, "Peter Smith." The last, a middle-aged man of average build with graying sandy hair, glared back in annoyance. "What's yours then Wolverton? I'd bet my bottom dollar Red ain't your given name.

He was right of course, but there was no way in hell she was going to tell them the name she'd all but forgotten herself. "It's the only one I'll admit to and the only one you're getting," she stated coldly, "And if it makes you feel better you can call me Wolf, that's my nickname."

The sandy haired man returned her flat stare, anger flaring in pale blue eyes, then slapped the cards down hard on the table. Rising abruptly, he shouldered past her and into the bunkroom beyond.

"That's One-shot." Lefty completed the roll call.

Three out of four ain't bad, but that one's definitely goin' to be trouble.

So, d' you play?" Rick indicated the cards.

For a moment she considered refusing, not sure it was such a good idea. Then she decided that she needed the cooperation of these men, and if it meant playing and loosing a few hands, it would be worth the cost. Worse comes to the worse, a sly lopsided grin lifted a corner of her mouth, I can always claim it as expenses.

***

By the time the first two hands had been played, she'd learned that there were another two men sharing the bunkhouse, other than the cook. They were currently away, driving head to another ranch and weren't expected back for a couple of weeks, and were identified as the head-hand, unimaginatively known as Dutch, and a fairly recent hiring who went under the nick of Patch.

Red had played a few more hands, losing about half, before a clanging from outside indicated that chow was ready. She trooped out with the other hands to collect the food then returned to the bunkhouse to eat; deciding at this point to leave the men to their privacy, she ate hers in her room. Tucking into the surprising tasty stew, she had to admit that Lucky's summary of the cook's skill's actually underrated his ability. Tearing a chunk of bread, she soaked up the remains of the gravy and then lay back, replete and happy, for a second wishing her pa had never found her on that ranch and dragged her back to a life she didn't want. Then common sense kicked in to point out that she wouldn't have been able to disguise herself as a boy forever and that, despite everything, there were good things she would never had experienced if she hadn't ended up in Boston, not the least of those being Janet, Joe and, most recently, Evadne. For a moment, she felt a pang of regret - not for leaving Boston but for leaving Evadne. It has been barely a week since she'd last seen her and, much to her surprise, was already missing the older woman, had been from the first day if she was honest. Yeah, well at least no one's trying to civilize me, she gave a wry grin before collecting up the used tableware and heading for the door.

While returning the empty plate, she was able to beg a coffee pot and mug off the cook so she could have a brew ready to hand on the small stove. Now she was sitting at the desk sipping the strong black liquid and once more going through the details of the various incidents that had led to her presence at the Lazy 'Y' ranch. This done, she started to make some notes on what she'd learned so far of the setup and the people. She'd actually been mildly relieved by the fact that less than half the other residents were actively hostile to her. She'd expected a more unified front from the hands in particular, but Rick appeared to have gotten over his initial antagonism, Lefty seemed to be affected by some sort of bizarre hero worship and Lucky was being carefully neutral, leaving only the other two as most definitely hostile. Cookie seemed to be completely ambivalent to her presence, quite happy in his own private kingdom and she'd still yet to meet the two remaining hands. Now turning her thoughts to her first meeting with the manager, Red grinned wryly, Not quite what I'd hoped, but he needs to get over his problem with me bein' a woman. She'd needed to establish her authority and that had seemed the best way at the time even if now she wasn't sure it had been the most suitable approach. Thinking with your fists again weren't you, little wolf. At least Mrs. Wilson seemed to be a possible ally and probably knew as much about the workings of the place as her husband. She obviously cares for him though, need to play it careful an' not get her back up thinking I'm going behind his.

Having put her initial thoughts down in her notebook, only too glad that using a pencil was something she could still do left-handed, Red turned to housekeeping. The damp clothes were now dry enough and were placed in the chest. Next she banked the fire in the stove, hoping she hadn't completely lost the skill needed to make the fire last through to the morning. After a final check that the door was locked, she quickly stripped and, pouring some water into the bowl, had a quick, cold wash. Slipping into now pleasantly warm pajamas, she lit the candle by the bed, turned off the lamp on the desk and slipped into bed. For a while, she lay on her back watching the flickering candlelight on the ceiling as she decided on her plans for the next day. Rolling on to her side, she licked her fingers and pinched out the candle, then snuggled down into the warm cocoon of blankets. After a few moments spent adjusting her sore body into a comfortable position and finding the long forgotten silence of the prairie night unexpectedly soothing to still taut nerves, the investigator soon fell into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep.

Friday 3rd February - Exploration and confrontation

A hammering on the door broke into her deep sleep. "Go 'way," she mumbled semi-coherently, still half asleep and not wanting to complete the process.

The hammering did stop, though in irritation rather than having heard the muttered command, then a voice called. "If you want breakfast, Wolverton, you'd best get your butt out here now."

At the mention of food and her stomach's noisy reminder as to how hungry she was, Red grudgingly opened sleep laden eyes. Stifling a jaw-cracking yawn, she rolled over to check her watch only to be surprised to see that it was nearly nine in the morning. "Jeez, I've not slept that late for months." The hands would have been up for a couple of hours already, doing the morning chores before the first meal of the day, her laying in bed this long will not have enamored her to them. "That you, Rick?"

"Yeah, was beginning to wonder if you were still alive in there."

"Just a second." Thank Christ he woke me up in time to make breakfast; I'd never have lived that down. Even as Red was talking, she was pulling on her clothes over the pajamas, grimacing as stiff and aching muscles complained at the sudden activity. Finally, she slipped her feet into the calf length boots, rammed on the fedora and grabbed her coat; she glanced briefly at the much-hated sling then with a shake of the head decided that, for the moment at least, she didn't need it. Unlocking the door, she opened it to see an amused Rick smirking at her disheveled appearance.

"Well at least you get dressed quickly."

Red grinned, she was beginning to like this man, and still half asleep she began to joke, "It's a useful skill - fathers can be so protective of their daughters' reputa…." She froze in horror at the inadvertent slip. Christ, you idiot, you were supposed to be keeping that to yourself, not give them any more reasons to hate you than you must.

There was a moment of shocked silence as she watched confusion turn to surprised understanding. "C'mon, the chow'll be getting cold," she muttered, pushing the still stunned man towards the door. Thankfully, he took the hint and moved down the short corridor as Red struggled into the sheepskin jacket, mentally cursing herself to hell and back for the mistake.

Now walking by her side as they moved towards the cookhouse, Rick glanced across and muttered in amusement, "Get lots of practice at getting dressed quickly then do you?"

Returning the look, Red was glad to see no hatred or disgust in his eyes, just puzzlement. "Not as much as I used to."

The lean man stopped, and frowned in bafflement. "You… how…I mean, birds and bees, yeah but," Red could have sworn there was the hint of a blush under the beard and she suddenly wondered how old Rick actually was under all the fuzz, "birds and birds?"

Red slapped him on the shoulder, "Don't worry your brain 'bout it, Rick, it might start leakin' out your ears." They started moving towards the cookhouse again, "but I'd appreciate it if you kept it our little secret, 'kay."

"'Kay," he grinned conspiratorially, "Your secret is safe with me."

***

After collecting breakfast, she returned to her room to eat, stoking the stove that she was thankful to find had just lasted the night and putting on a fresh pot of coffee to boil. After finishing the food and downing a couple of cups of black coffee, she finally felt awake. As she went out to fill the jug part of the familiar threesome, she wondered at the depth of her sleep. I know I was tired, but hell, I ain't slept that well in years. Must be bein' out here, out of that damn city, that's the charm. Returning to the room, she washed and redressed properly and, after a brief internal argument, donned the sling before wandering outside into the snow-covered yard once more.

The snow had stopped for the moment though the sky still looked heavy and ready to drop another load. Moving to the edge of the buildings, she leaned on the corral fence and looked out over the snow-covered plains. Taking in the bleak beauty, she gave a wistful sigh. If only Evadne could be there to see it then perhaps the socialite would understand why Red had felt so buried in Boston. Relegating the melancholy thought to the back of her mind, she studied the surrounding land in more detail. To the northeast, she could see the faint dark specs of cattle against the whiteness. Over to windward there was a small break of trees, most likely planted by the first settlers as a protection against the biting winds and now grown into maturity. A number of horse tracks could be seen leading out of the main gate from where they split out in a number of directions - Mr. Wilson was obviously taking the opportunity provided by the break in the weather to check on as much of the stock as possible. This was confirmed by the fact that she could see neither hide nor hair of any of the hands around the buildings. She was still leaning there, soaking up the vast emptiness when she became aware of the sound of feet crunching through the snow behind her and coming closer. A brief glance over her shoulder identified the footsteps as belonging to Mrs. Wilson. She returned to her study of the whiteness aware of the footsteps getting closer until the woman had to be just behind her. "I missed this you know, back in Boston," she said aloud, surprised at the emotion in her voice.

Mrs. Wilson moved to join the younger woman in leaning on the fence. "It still takes my breath away at times," she acknowledged, "even if at others I hate it." She turned to look at the investigator, "How are those wounds today?"

"Been better, but I'll survive." Red gave a noncommittal shrug then swiftly changed the subject, "All the hands out?"

"Yes, Frank's making the best of the break; he reckons it should last most of the day."

Red peered up at the pinkish white sky again. "I hope so. Wouldn't like to be out when that lot finally comes down." Straightening up, she turned to the face the older woman. "Is Mr. Wilson around?"

"No, he's gone out with the boys. Is it anything I can help you with?"

"I was wondering if you have a map of the ranch, I'd like to get a feel of the area and mark out where the carcasses were found."

"Of course, there is a map in the office. There may even be a spare somewhere if you'd like your own copy."

"That would be most useful, ma'am. If you don't mind I would also like your version of what had happened." Red didn't miss the slight frown that appeared on the older woman's face.

"I'm not sure…"

"You're a capable woman I believe, Mrs. Wilson, with a sharp, observant mind - that much was obvious yesterday. I would be interested in knowing your views."

"You flatter me."

"No, ma'am."

Mrs. Wilson frowned again, looking for any sign of mockery in the strangely familiar blue-green eyes but she found only an honest, unwavering return of her gaze. "Very well, if you think it will be of use." She gave a sudden shiver, "Shall we go to the office? My old bones can't take this cold like your young ones."

***

Mrs. Wilson had indeed been correct in her statement about there being a spare copy of the map and the investigator was now marking and numbering the location of the various instances with the older woman's help. It clearly showed that they had all happened in a roughly circular area centered to the south of the ranch. "Not much help there," she muttered out loud, as she scowled at the map.

There was a moment's pause as both women contemplated the map. After a few moments, Red asked, indicating what appeared to be some sort of feature towards the centre of the spread. "What's that?"

Peering at the indicated spot, the older woman frowned, "Oh that's Harry's Hill. A strange thing really, it looks like it should be man-made but its nothing like anything the Pawnee build. There was an archaeologist here in the late summer digging it up. Don't know if he found anything, but one day he just upped and left - we haven't seen hide nor hair of him since."

Leaving the puzzle of the hill for the moment Red turned to face the older woman. "So what do you think is going on?"

"Wild animals?"

The snort came out before the westerner could stop it. As the older woman glared at her, Red asked in disbelief. "You really don't believe that do you?"

The glare turned in a rueful smile, "No, I suppose not. But I really can't see why anyone would be doing such things."

"Tell me exactly what has been happening," as the older woman started to object she added, "I've the bare facts but I wanna know what you know. I'll be doing it to everyone eventually, not just you."

"Well to start with it was just a few head being lost. We didn't worry too much to begin with, after all animals do go missing - fall in the river, get taken by coyotes and the like, but when it became more frequent we started to wonder. Was it more than blind chance? Perhaps some sort of rustling activity? Then they started to find the carcasses."

"Badly mauled weren't they?" Red prompted.

"More than just mauled - they were completely ripped apart, pieces strewn all over the place. Didn't look like animals as very little appeared to have been either eaten or removed." She gave a sigh, "We though it might be some madman passing through, but if it is, he's living somewhere we haven't found."

Red nodded, though she didn't say so, she thought a madman was the most likely answer, albeit a cunning madman with a distinct grudge against the Lazy 'Y', perhaps even someone working for it. "An' since then?"

"Stock is still being killed." She paused for a moment, running over the events in her mind once more before adding, "In fact, we are finding them more and more frequently, though that may just be because we know where to look if any go missing."

The comments fitted well with what Red had noted and she gave a faint nod of agreement. "Anything special about the actual animals taken?"

The older woman thought for a moment, before giving a slight shake of the head. "I can't remember; Frank should have details of the lost head."

"Any of the surrounding spreads having similar problems?"

Again there was a shake of the head, "We asked the sheriff to look into it but he couldn't find anything either, and he just doesn't have the manpower to do anything about it when it is only a few head each time."

"Well thank you, Mrs. Wilson, if you think of anything else you know where I am." She began rolling up the map, hampered by the fact she was trying to do it one handed.

As she continued in her attempts to roll the map, Red became aware of the older woman staring at her with a puzzled frown. "What?" she scowled, her annoyance with the map only being added to by being so scrutinized.

Flustered at being caught being so impolite, the older woman stammered, "Sorry. It's just you remind me of someone - I thought so yesterday, but I just can't place who it is."

"Can't see who that would be, Mrs. Wilson, I am one of a kind you know," she flashed a sudden grin at the older woman, "at least that is the polite version of what they generally call me."

"That's better."

Red frowned in puzzlement at the comment, "What?"

"The smile, it suits you so much better than that scowl - makes you look …" Then she faltered, looking directly at the younger woman as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Are you alright, ma'am? Here," Red took the older woman's arm and took her to the nearest chair only to be shaken off before she got her there.

"Old Charlie!" the woman muttered to herself, continuing to stare in astonishment.

"Old Charlie?"

"That's who you remind me of - Old Charlie!"

Red gave a confused smile, "I'm not sure how I am to take being compared with some old guy?"

"Old gal," the older woman corrected, "She lived near my parent's house, must have been in her fifties when I was a girl. She'd fought in the War Between the States disguised as a man. Even after the war finished she continued to wear men's clothes all the time, cut her hair short like you. She had a… friend… who lived with her. Despite my parent's efforts to keep me away from their house I became great friends with Charlie's niece - she'd been brought up by them since her mother and father, Charlie's brother and sister-in-law, died." Mrs. Wilson smiled fondly, "Charlie told such great stories and Aggie made such good cookies that I was around with Lizzie as much as I could. There were always veiled rumors that they were more than just friends, not that I ever saw anything other than teasing affection when I visited. It wasn't until Charlie was killed that I knew for sure - the grief I saw in Aggie was nothing like that of a friend or a sister, it was that of a wife for her beloved husband." She gave a sad smile, "When you smiled just then it was like seeing a younger version of Charlie." The smile turned sly, "I suspect you have more in common with Charlie that just your looks and choice of clothing, am I right?"

This was all so far from left field that Red was now gaping in astonishment.

"You best shut that mouth before you catch flies."

A finger gently touched Red's dropped jaw, causing her to snap it shut, and then resorting to humor to cover her stupefaction, she muttered, "Is it tattooed on my forehead or something," moving to peer at the area in question in the mirror over the fireplace.

The older woman smiled, "Don't worry; your secret is safe with me."

Suddenly serious Red asked, "Is it really that obvious?" Even with her mannish appearance, she'd not expected anyone out here to know that lovers of woman like herself even existed. To have Mrs. Wilson come to that conclusion within less than a day was startling beyond words and distinctly worrying - she'd had enough of the brutality of small town prejudice as a youngster and didn't want to attract such attention here if she could help it. Of course it would also not help in her attempts to find out what was going on with the cattle either. So, much as she had disliked herself for doing so, she'd decided to hide that particular facet of her character - after all, most people were going to have enough problems accepting her as it was. Her earlier slip with Rick had been, and still was, potentially disastrous and now Mrs. Wilson had also worked it out. She was just thankful that neither of them seemed to have any obvious problems with it.

"To be honest I didn't know for sure, it was just a feeling; your comment about my scent; the way you looked at me yesterday - it really didn't feel like just that of an investigator and a possible suspect. I remember Charlie looking at other women like that, only when Aggie wasn't around of course," she gave a fond smile at the memory. "And your resemblance to Charlie just now was so astounding it all just seemed to click together." She paused, looking uncertain. "I… well I have another reason for noticing such things. My youngest daughter, Maggie… she hasn't said anything… but a mother notices things." Suddenly embarrassed by the uncharacteristic sharing of such a confidence with this strange woman, she turned hurriedly away and moved towards an escritoire in the corner of the study, "I have some photographs of Charlie in uniform somewhere; Aggie gave them to me as keepsakes." After a brief rummage, she brought over a slightly tattered photograph and passed it to the investigator.

Red took the picture, recognizing the reason for the abrupt change of subject, then glanced down to stare in astonishment at the figure looking back at her from the faded image. It showed what appeared to be a proud young man clad in the uniform of a Union Infantryman, two light colored chevrons on each sleeve showing his rank. As far as it was possible to tell in the sepia, both hair and eyes were a similar color to hers but most astounding was the face, it was like looking in a mirror. "Jeez, that is just plain creepy." She flicked over the photograph to freeze in shocked disbelief as she read the faint words scrawled on the back.

"Are you alright?" Mrs. Wilson was suddenly worried; the color seemed to have drained from the younger woman's face. "What is it?" Silently the card was handed back, rear side facing and she looked down to read, 'Corporal Charles Wolverton, 1st Nebraska 1864'. She looked back to the still pale face, "I'd forgotten that was her surname, I'd only ever thought of her as Old Charlie."

Taking the picture back, Red stared down at the familiar face. "Pa always said it was bad-blood coming through, that I was a throwback sent to haunt him, now I think I know what he meant."

"You think Charlie was a relative?" Rose asked, perplexed by the unexpected turn of events.

"It'd be one hell of a coincidence if she weren't." The westerner gave the puzzled older woman a wry half-smile before returning to her study of the faded image.

"Well I never!" Rose quietly exclaimed. "You and Old Charlie are kin? Well I never!"

***

After spending a fruitless morning trying to spot a pattern in what had been happening - a pattern she was sure was there but was currently and frustratingly eluding her - she decided it was time to get out and combine some exercise and a reconnaissance of the immediate area.

Soon she had Lady tacked up and, after a few enthusiastic but ultimately futile attempts to lose her rider, Red now had her under a tight rein and heading out of the main gate, left arm free of its disliked support for the time-being. The snow was deep, allowing nothing more that a walk as she headed north, checking her bearings on a pocket compass as she went. She was new to the ground and knew that if the snow suddenly returned she would have little chance of finding her way back unless she kept a note of her bearings. Riding slowly through the snow, glancing occasionally at the compass, she took note of the landmarks in the terrain, at least those that were visible though the snow. After about half an hour she stopped, looking back over her shoulder to check that the ranch was still in view. There was a slight rise in the ground that hid most of the buildings but a number of thin plumes of smoke could be seen rising directly up into the still air. After a brief rummage in the saddlebags, she came out with a pair of binoculars and began a scan of the horizon, not looking for anything in particular. The herd she had seen earlier was still in the same general area and, over to the west, she saw a pair of riders, the distinctive pinto coloring of one of the mounts suggesting one of the riders as Rick. Turning to the south she could make out a regular shaped mound that she surmised to be the 'Harry's Hill' marked on the map. Other than that, there was nothing of obvious interest to be seen in the never-ending whiteness. Focusing back on the two riders, she saw that they seemed to be making their way back to the ranch at an easy pace, certainly no cause for concern there. After another glance up at the still heavy sky, Red turned Lady to the East and began her planned circling of the ranch.

As she rode slowly along, eyes constantly scanning the landscape around her for anything unusual, her mind drifted to the photograph she had been shown. It seemed too much to believe that they weren't related and she had known little of her mother's side of the family. About all she had known was that her maternal grandparents had died when her mother was young but she had no idea that there had been any others, or who had brought her mother up when she'd been left an orphan.

Taking another bearing back on the still columns of smoke Red realized she'd come to the edge of the area where the carcasses were found. Another look up at the sky showed that the cloud mass still appeared to be high. Deciding to risk a bit more exploration than originally planned, she turned her horse south and moved further away from the distant buildings and towards Harry's Hill.

Some time later Red gently brought Lady to a halt. Having reached the foot of the mound, she was surprised to see how big it actually was. When Mrs. Wilson said it was probably man-made, she'd expected it to be relatively small, and from a distance and in the snow, it had been hard to judge its size. Now up close she could see that it had to be over fifty feet high. Riding around the wide base, she could see how the shape had been worn away and battered by the ravages of time making it appear more naturally rounded. Looking past the weathering, she thought that it might originally have been reminiscent of the Egyptian pyramids in shape. However, unlike those structures, this one had a truncated top and appeared to be made of earth rather than stone. Having completed her circle she sat back in the saddle and stared in fascination at the structure, wondering who could have built it and why. She could only agree with Mrs. Wilson that it seemed to be distinctly unlikely that the Pawnee or any other plain's nation would have built something like this. Their whole approach to life embraced the natural world rather than going against it, and this great earthen mound certainly counted as the latter as far as Red was concerned.

Taking out her notebook, she jotted down a rough sketch of the mound then used her compass to check its alignment, strangely unsurprised to find it lined up with the compass points almost perfectly. This done, and increasingly aware of the slowly lowering sun, she started back towards the ranch house, hoping she had not left her return too late.

***

For a while, she feared she'd indeed left it too late. Cursing herself roundly for her stupidity, she pressed Lady as fast as she dare over the unfamiliar and snow covered terrain. Even so, she only just got back to the ranch before dusk turned into real darkness. Passing through the gates, she was greeted by a worried and irate Frank Wilson who appeared from the ranch house with such speed that there was no doubt he had been awaiting her return.

"Where in tarnation have you been, Wolverton? We were just about to sent out a search party for you?"

Biting back the initial reaction to tell him it was none of your business, she growled, "I was fine, just took me a little longer gettin' back than I expected."

That got her another annoyed look, "Wolverton, you ain't new to ranch work, Mr. Criffy told us that much, but you are new to the area. You should know better than letting yerself get stuck out on unfamiliar ground in the dark, especially in this god-awful weather." A sarcastic tone colored his final words, "I reckon Mr. Criffy wouldn't be too pleased to find his pet trouble-shooter's gotten herself killed like some idiot greenhorn.

Anger at the dressing down she was receiving was cut short at the realization of the truth of his words. She slid off Lady's back and, with the mare in tow, came over to stand in front of the still angry ranch boss. She saw a faint flicker of concern as she moved towards him then confusion as she gave an apologetic look, "You're quite right, Mr. Wilson, it was stupid of me to stay out so long. It won't happen again."

He was looking suspiciously at her now, obviously looking for some double meaning in her words. Then he gave a brief nod as he accepted the words on face value. "Good! See that you don't." Apparently suitably mollified by her acceptance of his rebuke, he turned and made his way back to the ranch house.

Having seen Lady bedded down for the night, Red headed back to the bunkhouse to grab a cup of coffee and to think over what she had found. Harry's Hill, strange as it was, didn't really seem to help her any further - indeed, it could still turn out to be just an odd coincidence.

She'd just dumped her jacket on the bed and was replacing the sling discarded for the ride when she became aware that someone had appeared in the doorway, a glance showing it to be a glowering One-shot.

"What you doin' here, Wolverton?"

She continued to straighten the sling, deliberately ignoring the unwanted presence. At least he seemed to have taken note of what she'd said earlier about what to call her. Happy that her arm was once more comfortably ensconced she returned her attention to the glowering presence. Nonchalantly leaning back again the wall, she calmly replied. "That's between me, Mr. Criffy and Wilson, and therefore none of your damn business."

"Here to spy on us are you?" He moved a couple of steps into the room.

"Why? You got somethin' to hide?"

There was a tense exchange of glares before the older man growled. "A ranch ain't no place for a woman. Don't matter that you dress like a man, you ain't one an' it ain't your place to be here doin' a man's job."

"You 'fraid I'll do it better than a man, are you?"

"Go home. Find yerself a man rather than pretending to be one. You'd pretty-up well enough if you tried." He ignored the disbelieving snort of laughter at this comment and continued, Red suddenly realized, in his attempts to reason with her. "C'mon, girl, what you tryin' to prove?" Gently now, he added what he obviously believed was to be his winning argument. "Go home, there ain't no shame in bein' as God made you."

"As god made me?" she shook her head in disbelief, "Assuming there is one, which I don't fuckin' believe to start with, this is how your god made me!" Angry now, though she kept her relaxed position against the wall, she continued, "An' despite what you, or anyone else want or say I ain't going to change. If pa and his fuckin' doctor friends couldn't change me you ain't got a goddamned chance in hell of doin' so!

"Well if you ain't going to take friendly advice," He moved a step closer, obviously trying to intimidate the smaller woman but to no avail. "Perhaps we'll need to persuade you."

So he wants a fight does he? Well if that's what it's goin' to take. Red straightened from her slouch so that her weight was now evenly balanced on both feet, slipping her arm from the sling so that loosely curled hands were held ready to bring up if needed.

One-shot paused at the change in the intruder's stance, recognizing in surprise its unspoken message - the woman was neither scared nor intimidated and was ready to answer his unspoken challenge. A momentary flicker of indecision crossed his face then, temporary good-sense overridden by long-held prejudices, he sneered, "You goin' to fight me are you, girl? You ain't even got two good arms, for fuck's sake!"

Can't disagree with the son-of-a-bitch on that, Red's own good-sense was having its own internal battle with her building anger; I really ain't up to this, her rational mind was shouting as it tried to beat down the rising aggressive instinct. With a dodgy arm and still healing holes in side and shoulder there was little chance she wouldn't come out worse if the confrontation did come to blows - but flight wasn't an option now, she could only fight, one way or another. Trying to keep the snarl out of her voice, she answered, "If that's what it's goin' to take to be allowed to do my job."

Confusion warred across the man's face - this was obviously not how he had expected this confrontation to go. "What do you think you are playin' at? Go home, go back to your city and find a husband to look after, leave us alone." Regaining his purpose, he tried once more, voice turning low and menacing, "Unless you want your other arm busted as well."

"You can try, if you really wanna." Common sense fleeing the field, she let the snarl and its companion feral grin out as she raised loosely clenched fists. "You wanna?" She saw the look of disbelief in the older man's eyes then they narrowed as he too brought his fists up.

"You wanna be treated like a man? Then I hope you can take your beatin's like one."

Focused on the man's eyes for the first hint of his intention, Red knew she had to let him make the opening move. Even then, she had little doubt who'd be blamed with provoking the fight, especially as Wilson already had personal experience of her combative attitude. You really need to stop doin' this, little wolf - thinking with your fists when you're still full of holes really is stupid and you ain't stupid - least you never used to be.

"Red? Are you in there?"

At the sound of Mrs. Wilson's voice, One-shot stepped backed then moved swiftly to the doorway. With a parting, "This ain't over, Wolverton," he disappeared into the bunkhouse proper. Seconds later Mrs. Wilson appeared in the doorway from the opposite direction, her glance up the corridor showing that she had not missed the rapidly retreating figure.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Red started once more to replace her arm in the sling as nonchalantly as she could manage with hands that started to shake as the adrenaline receded.

"May I come in?"

Startled, she glanced up at the boss's wife still hovering in the doorway. She hadn't even considered that permission was required. "Yeah, 'course, Mrs. Wilson."

As Red moved to pour herself a now much-needed coffee, the older woman hovered uncomfortably. "Want some?"

A shake of the head answered the offer. "What was that all about?"

"Nothin' important."

The disbelieving laugh brought blue-green eyes up to meet hard blue-grey. "Don't try that, Wolverton. I saw the look on his face as he left. And don't think I missed the shake in your hands either."

"Just an exchange of views 'bout my bein' here." Red muttered as she turned to pour some of the steaming black liquid into an enameled mug.

Mrs. Wilson rolled her eyes, "An exchange of views?" Shaking her head in disbelief, she added, "Well at least I got here in time to stop it becoming an exchange of blows."

After a surprised glance, Red gave a wry smile, "Yeah, just." Mug in hand, she sank down to sit on the bed. "How d' you know?"

"Rick saw him. Put two and two together and didn't like the result so came to get me."

Smart guy - pretty much anybody else would have just made things worse, one way or the other. Unless… "You won't tell your husband will you?"

"I take it you don't want me to?"

There was a concerned look in the older woman's eyes that Red couldn't, didn't, want to meet - it reminded her too much of the looks she got from Joe and Evadne and was stirring an unexpected feeling of guilt as well as the usual annoyance - and she dropped her eyes as she gave the answering nod.

With a resigned sigh, Mrs. Wilson finished, "Very well, if that is what you want."

For a moment, as the investigator continued to study the now fascinating mug of coffee, it seemed like the older woman was going to say something else, but obviously thought better of it, whatever it was.

"Well I had best get back to the house; I left some pans on the stove."

Still too uptight from the confrontation, and embarrassed by the concern she'd seen and her own response, Red managed only a grunt and a nod of acknowledgment as the older woman left the room. Belatedly remembering her earlier decision to try and keep Mrs. Wilson on her side, she looked up to add her thanks only to see that she'd already gone. Good move, little wolf, she thought in irritation, keep behavin' like that an' you ain't goin' to have anyone to save your sorry hide next time. She knew there would be a next time, sooner or later - the look on One-shot's face had promised that much.

***

She groaned in frustration as Leona continued the teasing, torturously slow path down her body. Already intensely aroused by the languorous undressing she'd just experienced, the trailing of the wet tongue across her body was driving her mad with need. Grasping her lover's head, she pushed it down towards where she most needed that tongue to go. Unable to form coherent words she grunted her need as she felt the warm wet muscle caress the scar on her stomach before moving ever lower. Dimly, through the lust, she became hazily aware that the fine hair under her hands seemed to be thickening. Then the smooth tongue that had just swirled around her belly button suddenly rasped harshly across her skin as unexpectedly strong hands clutched her hips. Blue-green eyes snapped open at the sudden pain and she looked down in shock at the figure crouched over her. The body was still her lover's but the head had become that of a lion and she could see that her hands now had sharp claws that were retracting in and out slightly as they scored the flesh of her sides. Kicking frantically, she escaped out from under the monstrous figure and bolted for the door…

… she ran through the forest, bouncing off trees, scrambling through the undergrowth. The knees of her pants had been ripped by the many falls and a sleeve of her shirt was stained with blood were a broken branch had gouged her arm. Behind her came the sound of her pursuer neither gaining nor falling back yet always there. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure it would burst and her breath came in great labored gasps. She fell again, sprawling onto the leaf mold and broken branches…

… pushing herself up from the stone paving she got painfully to her feet once more, the burning in legs and chest making the pain from scraped palms and knees barely noticeable. Stumbling blindly forward, she ran head first into something rock-solid and immovable and crumpled to the floor. Stunned and seeing stars, she was picked up by the collar of her shirt. The linen cut into her throat, choking her until a button ripped off, easing the pressure. She lashed out, trying to break the grip only to be thrown roughly to one side, hitting another wall and falling with a groan to a heap on the cold stone floor. Hearing strangely acute despite the flashing lights in front of her eyes, she caught the sound of soft footsteps padding closer. The excruciating pain in her head was making her feel sick and her eyes didn't seem to be focusing properly but still she stubbornly tried to rise and face her attacker. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, back propped up against the wall, she squinted blurrily up at the approaching figure as she groped for a revolver that was no longer there.

The large but indistinct figure grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her to her feet before slamming her bone-jarringly hard into the wall behind her. Exhausted by the chase and weakened by her injuries she still fought to escape, swinging a roundhouse punch towards the side of her attacker's head only to have her wrist caught in an unbreakable hold. Desperately, she tried to knee him in the groin but an unnaturally quick hand snaked down from her shirtfront to grab the rising thigh. Feeling the stab of claws in her leg, she tried to free her arm from the vice-like grip only to have it suddenly and viciously twisted; the audible crack of breaking bone followed by sudden intense pain. Moaning as much in fear as in pain, she was released to collapse into a heap on the floor. Cradling her broken arm, she stared at the feet in front of her, strange, fur covered, clawed feet.

Blinking in disbelief, she peered up to see her attacker bend down and grab the front of her shirt again. Dragged to her feet, she was slammed against the wall once more before being dragged across the cavernous room. Swung bodily around, she stumbled backwards, held upright in the implacable grip. The back of her knees hit something hard and they promptly buckled. Released from the creature's hold, she fell backwards, the impact with the object she'd been backed into driving the remaining breath out of her. Gasping like a landed fish, vision darkening, she struggled to get air back into her lungs even as she waited for the killing blow to fall.

After a long pain-filled moment with no coup-de-grace and once more able to breathe, she gave a quick hazy look around the now empty room. 'Bastard musta thought he'd whipped me,' she thought, fiercely, 'but the wolf don't give up that fuckin' easy.' She tried to push herself upright with her good arm, scrabbling for purchase on what felt like more stone. A blow to the side of her head knocked her sideward, pain flaring brutally through her skull as she collapsed onto her side, the coarse stone scraping the skin of her cheek. Then a paw-like hand grasped her shoulder, rolling her roughly onto her back and holding her down. Another pressed down on her stomach, the creature's claws pricking into her skin through her shirt. Held immobile, unable to fight back any longer, she watched helplessly as her captor's head lowered towards her face and resolved into horrible familiarity.

"Ahriman," she breathed out, her voice a barely audible whisper.

The lion-headed god smiled, baring the vast yellowing canines. "You will be mine, Wolf, you cannot escape." The god's breath was rancid, reeking of rotten flesh and the bile rose in her throat. The tawny head bowed until it nuzzled the side of her neck then her left shoulder in an almost sensuous manner. She felt the pressure of teeth through the material of vest and shirt. Gentle, almost tender to start with, the force of the bite steadily increased until the incisors pierced her skin and still the jaws continued to close, cutting through flesh, crushing bone until finally she screamed out in agony and utter despair…

… and woke up. Bolting upright into a sitting position, Red gasped in shock and remembered pain. She lifted a tentative hand to her aching shoulder, half-expecting to touch bloodstained cloth and relieved to find only the dampness of sweat. Letting out a shuddering breath, she pulled her legs up to her chest. Wrapping her arms around them as tightly as healing wounds allowed, she rested her head on her knees and waited for her heart to slow and her breathing to quiet.

Saturday 4th February - Boston discussions and Nebraskan nastiness

"Do you think the little one will come back?" Maria asked, glancing at her employer where she sat at the table in the middle of the large and well-equipped kitchen that was the diminutive Latina's small but fiercely defended domain.

"Honestly?" Evadne sighed at the answering nod, "I think it is very unlikely, Maria. If she's voluntarily left now, when Katherine's machinations could not drive her out, then how bad must she have been feeling?"

Maria, still hard at work kneading dough, shook her head sadly, "I will miss the little rogue."

"Well you might not have escaped her completely." Evadne gave the older woman a reassuring smile, "she made me promise to visit her so it's only fair she comes to visit me in return."

"Well," Marie grinned back, "if anyone can persuade her, it'll be you, chica - your tongue is nearly as silver as hers when you want it to be."

Evadne gave the older woman a half-hearted glare, and then smiled. "If you say so, Maria." The smile became a wry grin. "I just feel sorry for whoever's life she is making a misery now." She rose from the table, taking her coffee with her and headed back to the study,

Voluntarily left? That was the understatement of the year, Evadne thought sadly, as she crossed the hall, remembering the farewell at the railway station.

Evadne had accompanied her friend and partner onto the station platform to see her off properly. She could feel the younger woman's almost feverish anticipation but had been completely surprised when she'd been enfurled in a hug and, even though the westerner's arm had only seconds earlier been in a sling, found herself being lifted off her feet.

"Please put me down, Red," she said, half-embarrassed, half-amused by the unexpected display, "You'll aggravate your shoulder." The socialite had never seen Red initiate a hug before - in fact, the roguish young woman was usually incredibly unhappy even receiving them. Eventually released from the bearish embrace, she commented in amusement. "Well, someone is certainly in a good mood this morning."

Red smiled as she deftly slipped her left arm back into its sling - not one of her usual half-teasing half-cynical smiles but that open, uninhibited smile that Evadne hadn't seen on her friend's face for months.

"Glad you're so happy at leaving us," the older woman teased.

Red's face fell as she felt a sudden twinge of concern, "I…" she looked earnestly into her long-suffering partner's face, "You do understand I have to do this, Evadne, don't you? It ain't anything you did - you do know that don't you?"

She gave the now worried looking westerner an affectionate squeeze on the arm. "I know, Red. I just hope you find what you are looking for out there in the back-of-beyond."

"Thanks," a wicked glint came into Red's eyes and, before the socialite could react, the younger woman closed the space between them and gave her straight friend a kiss on the mouth before jumping back out of the reach of the expected reaction.

Flummoxed for a moment at the outrageous action, Evadne stared at the grinning ruffian in front of her. Then she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Incorrigible just doesn't cover it anymore! Now get in that train before it leaves without you."

"Yes, ma'am!" Red ripped off a credible imitation of a military salute and bounded, at least as well as her injuries allowed, up into the railway car. After slamming the door shut, she pulled down the window and leaned out, "An' don't forget you promised to visit."

"Don't worry; I still need to get even for that little stunt, Red Wolverton."

"See you soon, Evadne." Then the train was pulling away and, after a final wave, the red-gold head vanished back into the fast disappearing train.

'See you soon too, little wolf,' the socialite thought, her mind already wondering how best to get her revenge.

Evadne smiled to herself at the memory, her hand lifting to touch her lips where the surprisingly gentle kiss had touched; she still couldn't believe Red had actually dared to do such a thing, and in such a public space. Fortunately, it appeared that if anyone had noticed, they'd taken her for the young man she was so often mistaken for. Certainly, there had been no outraged expressions or comments when she had quickly glanced around. In fact, one elderly woman had actually given her an indulgent amused look, which had embarrassed her strangely more than the kiss.

Still smiling at the sheer impudence of the westerner's actions, the socialite-cum-private investigator returned to her study of the open cases the senior partner had been dealing with before the shoot out in the cellar under Pater Hall. Most of them had been straight forward enough to deal with, especially with Theo's help, and in general, the clients did not seem to have noticed that they had taken longer to conclude than they should have. Thank the Lord for the ignorance of the general public. Theo had turned out to be a great help in getting the Agency back on its feet after the enforced break in operation. In fact, he appeared to have thoroughly enjoyed the work to the point at which Evadne, at her mother's prompting, had had to give him a stern talking too about neglecting the political career he had been working so hard to build. Suitably chastised, much to her amused surprise, he had conceded to getting a little carried away and had taken up his campaign for the Mayoral ticket once more. Even so, he still kept up to date with the current cases whenever he could, much to the chagrin of the socialite's mother, the new Mrs. Criffy.

Now there were only two cases left, one appeared to be a classic example of one of the stalwarts of their profession - tracking a wayward spouse. The other was a missing person case that the police had had no luck with and that, from the lack of notes, Red hadn't started to look into either.

Picking up the notes of the first, she began to decipher the spider like scrawl. As she read, she realized that this must have been the case that had resulted in the vicious weal on Red's forearm and the badly damaged hands. She hadn't been able to get anything much out of her partner at the time, other than the typically understated comment that it had got 'a little messy'; the distrust that had been engendered between them by the Deceiver's machinations had prevented that; now she read the last notes.

'Mrs. T thinks he'll go to SF tonight. Need proof he's using the women there.' Notes still in hand, she moved automatically to the nearest window. Staring unseeingly out over the garden, she pondered on what had followed. You never did say exactly how you got into such a state. What on earth happened that night? Tucking the papers back into the file she placed it on her desk - she needed to close this one way or the other, and if she happened to find out what happened to Red then that would be all the better. Should I be invading her privacy like this? She moved to sit at the desk and stared at the manila file for minutes before making her decision, No, I… we, need to know if there is any fallout for her or the agency from whatever it was she did and whoever she did it to!

***

The snow had been falling thickly all day, the heavy clouds finally beginning to empty their contents around midnight and not stopping since. Red had spent the day asking the other residents at the ranch the same questions she had asked Mrs. Wilson the day before. They had all given pretty much the same story to a greater of lesser degree of detail. The only notable new fact had come from Mr. Wilson who'd been able to tell her that the majority of the stock that had disappeared, and all those whose carcasses had been found, had been steers or bulls. She'd also asked about the strange mound but again she'd drawn very little in the way of help. Pete Smith had scathingly asked what the hell she was doing wasting his time asking about some lump in the landscape when she was supposed to be working out who was killing the beeves. The only positive outcome from the day had been that One-shot seemed to be ignoring her for the moment.

Feeling the need to look at something other than the four walls of her bedroom-cum-office, especially with the intense memory of the nightmare still ricocheting around inside her head, Red pulled on her thick jacket and rammed the fedora on her head before heading out to the stables to say howdy to Lady. Plodding through the snow, she had the sudden sensation of being watched. The back of her neck itched so badly she automatically went to scratch it, only to wince as her left arm objected to being lifted so high. "Damned thing," she muttered, raising her right hand to rub the area in question even as she scanned the area for the cause. She wasn't surprised when she saw no one; still she had a pretty good idea who it was. Where are you then, One-shot? Another glance round the snow covered yard then she opened the stable door to be greeted by a whinny of welcome that brought a smile to her face. "Howdy, little Lady." Grabbing some brushes, she moved to the mare. "C'mon, girl, lets smarten you up eh?" Having removed the blanket from the horse's back, she began methodically to brush the bay's smooth, reddish-brown coat. Not only was this good for Lady and helped build a relationship with the horse, it also seemed to be helping her arm, giving her something to do that made her lift her arm while giving it some support. After a while, when the underused and tight muscles began to burn at the exertion, she tucked the aching arm into her jacket as a makeshift sling and swapped to using her other hand. Having finished the brushing and combed out tail and mane, she dug out her pocket-knife and pulled out the hoof pick. She just coaxed an unwilling Lady to lift her left foreleg when the itch returned with a vengeance. A faint scuffling noise from above caught her attention and, turning her head, she caught a flicker of movement from above just as the mare shied violently, knocking Red off her feet in the process. As she fell, she heard the crunch of breaking wood and a whinny of alarm from Lady who was now prancing nervously around the stall. Scrambling hastily to her feet, Red spoke soothingly to the spooked horse, laying a gentling hand on her back to make the horse aware of her position. Once the mare had settled, she moved forward to examine the smashed barrel that lay a good foot from where her head had been. Moving out of the stall, she looked up at the loft above. There were little that could see from below so, quickly finding a ladder, she climbed up to the loft. She wasn't surprised to see that her attacker had made good his escape - he'd had plenty of time while she'd had to quieten the spooked mare. Nor was she in any doubt that it hadn't been an accident. Up in the loft she found a number of similar barrels stored well away from the edge and a mark on the edge where the barrel must have been stood before being pushed down. Peering over the edge down into the stall, she gave a wry smile. Well, at least it don't look like he's trying to kill me. If he'd really wanted to hit me, it would have been like shootin' fish in a barrel. Straightening up, she shouted into the barn, just in case her opponent was still in earshot. "One-shot, you cowardly bastard, you'll find I don't scare off that easy!"

TWO DAYS LATER

Monday 6th February - Discoveries

"Will it never stop snowing," Evadne muttered to herself as she tramped though the stained snow covering the sidewalk. She glanced down at the address in her notebook then up at the door in front of her. Finally having found the right building she knocked firmly on the front door with the end of her parasol and waited patiently for someone to open it. She didn't have to wait long until a smartly dressed maid opened the door to enquire what she wanted.

"I would like to speak to Mrs. Trensom if possible."

The maid frowned slightly, "My mistress is not taking visitors I am afraid."

Taking out a business card, she offered it to the maid, "Could you give this to her and say that I would like to speak to her about what happened between her husband and my business partner at the Silver Fox." She hoped her shot in the dark would work.

It wasn't long before the maid returned to usher her into a small living room where a middle-aged woman was already seated in a large high-backed chair. "Please take a seat Mrs. Lannis." Although the words were polite, the tone was strained.

Nodding her thanks, she took the offered seat and waited.

"Why are you here?" The older woman eventually asked.

Deciding to lay her cards on the table Evadne answered, "To find out what happened to my partner that night, and what you wish to do about the case."

The older woman looked surprised, "You don't know?"

"No." Evadne admitted. "All I know is that it didn't go as planned."

There was a harsh laugh from Mrs. Trensom, "Well I'm glad to know she didn't plan on nearly beating my husband to death!"

Evadne was shocked, despite what she knew of the way her friend's violent nature had been supernaturally enhanced this was still hard to comprehend. Dear Lord, what else did she do under the influence of that rage that she hasn't told me?

Her feelings were apparently being reflected in her face as Mrs. Trensom added, "I take it she didn't tell you about that?"

Shaking her head, Evadne replied, "No, no, she didn't."

With a deep sigh, Mrs. Trensom sat back in the chair. "Well from what I learned, she'd followed my husband to that place but he caught her outside the room where he was 'entertaining' a lady of the night. Apparently he'd somehow found out that I was employing Miss Wolverton and he recognized her." She paused for a moment before adding, "He claims she attacked him first, but I doubt she was left with much else in the way of options," her voice turned angry now, "however, there was no excuse for what she did to him - his face was a mess, and she broke his nose, jaw and cheekbone."

Dear Lord, no wonder her hands were such a mess, Evadne thought, feeling faintly sick at what the rage had driven her friend to do and now understanding why it had worried the westerner so much.

"I am sorry about that, Mrs. Trensom. All I can say in way of explanation is that Red was not herself at the …"

A regal hand cut through the explanation, "I'm not interested in an explanation. You now know what happened. As to the case - my husband has agreed to the divorce so I need to retain your services no longer. If you would furnish my lawyer with the bill it will be settled in full."

Evadne could see a dismissal when she saw one but she just needed to know one more thing. "Your husband, did he recover?"

"Depends what you mean. His face is still a mess but I believe he was released from the hospital a week ago. Now if you will excuse me, Mrs. Lannis?" This last was a definite brush off.

"Of course. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Trensom." With a faint nod in farewell, she moved to leave the room only to be stopped by a hesitant voice.

"Mrs. Lannis, warn your colleague that my ex-husband is a vindictive man, he will try to get his own back on her one way or another."

Nodding her thanks for the warning, albeit reluctantly given, Evadne left the room and was shown efficiently out of the front door, back into the falling snow.

***

"Any progress in your investigation?"

Red shook her head in answer then winced as the wound near her neck was gently cleaned. "How's it look?"

"Healing nicely, you'll be glad to know." Mrs. Wilson placed fresh dressings over the shoulder wounds and began to replace the bandages that kept them in place. "So you didn't find anything on your ride?"

"Just the hill."

Tying off the bandages, the older woman commented, "All done." Then, as the investigator slipped back into her clothing, she asked, "What did you make of it?"

"Impressive," Red's voice was slightly muffled by the shirt she was struggling to pull over her head. Damn, damn, damn, is it always goin' to be like this!

Dropping the old dressings into boiling water, she continued. "The Indians said it was bad ground, that evil spirits are trapped there."

Having eventually won her battle with her shirts, she gave a mental sigh of thanks at the older woman's reply. "What else did they say?" Red continued. Although the last few months' occurrences meant she was more open to the possibility of a supernatural cause to the cattle deaths, she still thought there was most likely to be a more human explanation - although to what aim Red couldn't fathom.

The older woman paused, brow wrinkling in thought. "Can't remember much more that that. The hill is taboo ground because of the evil spirits." There was another pause then a shake of the head, "No, sorry."

"Well thanks for that much, it's more than I've found so far." Red, now fully dressed, muttered, "If this damn snow would stop I'd go take a better look." With a parting thanks to Mrs. Wilson for the help, Red headed for the backdoor.

"There is one person who may be able to tell you more."

Turning in the doorway, Red raised a questioning eyebrow. "Who?"

"Jim Silverwind. He's half Pawnee, lives in River Fork - what he doesn't know about the area probably isn't worth knowing."

"River Fork? That's the nearest town, right?" At Mrs. Wilson's nod, she asked, "How far?"

"About an hour's ride. One of the hands usually goes in once a week to pick up mail and such - weather depending."

"When's the next trip?"

"Whenever we get another clear day. It should have been yesterday but Frank wanted them all checking on the stock as there hadn't been a suitable break for so long."

Nodding her understanding Red once more turned to leave the kitchen only to be stopped by Mrs. Wilson's voice once more.

"If you'd like I could ask Frank to let you know when he sends someone out - I'm assuming that you would like to go along?"

A small smile flickered across the investigator's face as she thanked the older woman again. "That'd be much appreciated, ma'am." She was surprised when her thanks received an amused laugh and she raised the quizzical eyebrow at the older woman once more, "What?"

"Don't you think 'Rose' would be more appropriate by now?" She smiled, "All those 'ma'ams' are getting a bit old when I've seen more of you than most would consider decent."

A rakish grin appeared on the younger woman's face, "Can always show you more if you like," she paused before adding a deliberate, drawled, "ma'am."

The older woman's eyes narrowed and she glared at the still grinning ruffian standing in the half-open doorway. Gradually it relaxed into a grin of her own as she realized she was only being teased. "Not sure Frank would be too happy about that. You've already damaged his sensitive masculine pride enough as it is - seducing his wife would just be adding insult to injury."

"Well, it's lucky for you both that I don't poach." The rakish grin changed into one that the older woman could only describe as lascivious, "Ain't it, Rose?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're incorrigible?" Mrs. Wilson could barely keep the laughter out of her voice at the outrageous flirting.

"You wouldn't believe how many," the younger woman drawled back, a mischievous grin now on her face, "I'm told it's one of my more charmin' traits."

"Go on, scat, you rogue, I'm not having such traits lurking in this kitchen," and the older woman play-shooed the younger out of the door.

Finally able to make her chuckling escape, she made her way through the still falling snow to the bunkhouse. As the chuckling subsided, she mulled over the new information. Well if I see what this Silverwind guy can tell me, perhaps it'll give me some sort of idea as to what's going on here - or what someone wants us to think is going on.

***

Well I can see why they get on so well, this office is as bad as Red's. Evadne studied the reporter's office with interest - it was the first time she'd visited Joe at the Herald, in, as it were, his natural surroundings.

"Sorry 'bout the mess," the giant of a man apologized as he removed a pile of paper from the spare chair so his unexpected guest could take a seat.

"Don't worry, Joe, sharing an office with Red has cured me of my desire to tidy everything in sight - keeping up with her mess would be a full time job." Evadne took the seat as Joe hovered nearby, plainly unsure what the visit heralded.

"Is Red okay?" He asked the obvious question to explain the unexpected visit.

"Safe in Nebraska as far as I am aware." She gave a wry smile, "Though how long that will last is a matter of conjecture."

Joe gave a grin of his own in reply, if anyone could find trouble in the middle of nowhere it would be his little wolfish friend. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"I was wondering if you could see if you have any information on a Mr. Lucas Transom, line of business, reputation, that sort of thing."

"A case?

"Not really," she gave a small sigh. "Did Red tell you about the problems she was having controlling her rage?" At his answering nod she continued, "We had a case, wayward husband, the usual thing. However it went wrong somehow and apparently she nearly beat the man to death with her bare hands."

"Dear Mary, Mother of God," Joe exhaled, dark eyes showing his shock at the news, "She said it was bad but I didn't know it was that bad!"

"I know." Evadne gave him a wan smile, "I still find it hard to believe and I saw that rage up close and personal." A small shake of her head to dislodge the unpleasant memory then she continued. "Anyway the case has been closed by the wife but she warned me that her ex-husband was likely to be after Red for what she did to him. So, on a 'know thine enemy' basis, I thought I'd best find out what I can about the man, and how seriously we need to take the threat."

Nodding his head at the wisdom of the idea he asked, "You want to wait? It may take a little while."

With nothing else much to do that afternoon, Evadne nodded her agreement, "I'll wait."

It was about an hour before Joe reappeared and his face suggested what he found was not good news. Placing the file on the desk he commented, "Well, even with her usual knack for annoying all the wrong people she has managed to pick a real doozey this time."

Frowning at the ominous comment, Evadne started to flick through the file while Joe gave a terse and concerned summary. "Well your guy isn't quite mob but he's as near as dammit. He owns the land on which a lot of the city's more disreputable establishments are built and has accumulated quite a lot of the dock front by fair means or foul. His main source of official income is a reasonably legitimate import/export business but that doesn't cover the style of life he leads. Gossip says he is also in on the booze racket as well and has come to some sort of mutual understanding with the mob over territory."

Sitting down behind his desk, he waited until Evadne stopped her perusal and she looked up to meet equally worried brown eyes. "There are also rumors that he has arranged for a number of his rivals to disappear - permanently! I'd say that if you've been warned that he is after Red then you need to take that warning very seriously indeed."

TWO DAYS LATER

Wednesday 8th February - Mr. Transom shows his hand

It had been a long and tedious day, not helped by the fact that the snow was still falling. By far the lowest point of Evadne's day had been the unpleasant task of telling doting parents that, although she'd been able to find their runaway son, he had no desire to either return home or contact them in any way. At this point, they had started the usual attempts to get his location out of her, despite the fact that from the start she'd said that this was not something they would be given without their son's permission. Still they tried and it went through the usual round of entreaties, bribes, threats and then tearful pleading but she'd stood firm against them all. The agency had developed an excellent reputation for finding missing people for this very reason - their adherence to this principle meant that the missing were often more willing to be found in the knowledge that their whereabouts would be kept secret if that was what they wanted. It had taken some time before Evadne had understood this condition herself - she'd initially found it odd that somebody would sanely choose to live in what were often slum conditions when they could have a warm and loving home. Red had given short shrift to this argument, pointing out that external appearances could be deceptive and if someone had chosen to run away, there was probably a "fuckin' good reason for it". The hard look in Red's face and the passion with which she'd disagreed had made Evadne belatedly realize that, on this issue, the younger woman was speaking from bitter experience. Dutifully, if reluctantly, she had toed the agency line. As time had passed and she'd dealt with more of such people she'd come to understand and reluctantly agree with Red's conditions, realizing how seemingly good homes could become nightmarish places for a multitude of reasons.

With no other official casework, she'd spent the rest of the day trying to follow up on some of the leads Joe had furnished on Lucas Transom and what sort of threat, if any, he was to Red and the Agency. What she had found out was not comforting; it seemed that the reporter's summary of the situation wasn't far wrong. I suppose it was only a matter of time before she upset someone with no qualms in getting back at her by any means, fair or foul. With a sudden flash of gallows' humor she added, with that attitude of hers it's a miracle she's survived this long. At least Red was well out of Transom's grasp now. This was the one plus side to the westerner's absence, countering slightly how badly Evadne was already missing her, irritating ruffian that Red undoubtedly was.

Getting off the streetcar near the office she debated what to do next - she could take another car to within walking distance of her house or ring James and get him to pick her up. Red's scathing comments about a chauffeur-driven automobile being probably the worst possible mode of transport for an investigator had persuaded the socialite to use it as little as possible. Now she used the streetcars as often as she could and, if she was honest, she actually enjoyed being amongst ordinary people, listening to the chatter about the minutia of ordinary lives that seemed so foreign to the woman brought up amongst the wealth and advantages of Boston's elite. She smiled at the memory of the annoyed glances she'd got from Red when they had first shared such rides - a streetcar held no charm to the pragmatic younger woman and for the first few shared journeys she'd glowered in irritation and muttered a few snide comments about 'rich types an' their little jaunts' under her breath. However, even Red had given up on Evadne's unwavering enthusiasm for this particular form of transport and the irritation had gradually changed into bemused, if slightly contemptuous, toleration.

Taking a long look at the snow-covered sidewalk, she decided that walking really wasn't a very attractive option and if she went back to the office to use the telephone she could catch up on her notes on the missing person case while they were still fresh in her mind rather than leave them until the morning. Decision made, she bent her head against the snow and headed as fast as the treacherous footing allowed towards the building containing the Wolverton Investigation Agency's official office. Turning into the entrance hall, she was nearly knocked off her feet by a hurrying figure. Annoyed at the fact that the man did not even stop to apologize, she glared angrily at his disappearing back for a moment as he left the building then resumed her climb up the stairs to the third floor office.

Reaching the door, she took the key out of her handbag and turned it in the lock. This isn't right, Evadne frowned as she realized the door was unlocked, I'm sure I locked it when I left. Stopping the movement, she removed the small pistol from her handbag and listened hard, wondering if there was someone inside the office. Unable to hear anything, but with Mrs. Transom and Joe's warnings echoing in her head, she stood as far away from the door as she could and used the point of her parasol to open the door. Puzzled she noticed an unusual tension in the door as it moved inward and then the world exploded in blinding light, searing heat, pain and finally darkness.

TWO DAYS LATER

Friday 10th February - River Fork

Finally, after five increasing frustrating days, and much to Red's relief, the weather cleared and the day had dawned fine, the sky clear and blue. She'd been driven nearly stir crazy by the enforced inactivity. Lady had been brushed so often the Rick had teasingly commented that the poor beast was getting bald spots. She'd poured over the scanty information she did have but didn't have enough to come to any sort of answer, indeed all it really did was lead her bored imagination into some bizarre flights of fancy. She'd also lost far too much money to her fellow bunkhouse residents at cards. It wasn't so much the money that annoyed her - it was the fact that she was deliberately loosing to, as she'd mentally dubbed them during a particularly direly played hand, the biggest bunch of piss-poor poker saps I've ever had the misfortune to meet! Even the small challenge to be found in cheating to loose had lost its pleasure and was now just plain boring. The only silver lining to her large and oppressive personal cloud was that the inactivity was helping her injuries to heal and she was now able to lift her arm to shoulder height easily although full mobility still appeared frustratingly distant.

At last able to follow up on some of her more sensible ideas, she was torn between setting out to examine the mound in greater detail or waiting in the hope of a trip into town. Fortunately, it wasn't long before she received word that one of the hands would be setting off to River Fork and she was to get herself and Lady over to the ranch house now.

Her joy at the chance of finding some more information and getting away from the ranch for a while was severely tempered when she saw that the hand she was to accompany was One-shot. That's just great, she growled mentally, why couldn't it have been anyone else. The fierce scowl the older man gave her as she pulled up alongside showed that he was as unhappy about the whole thing as she was. Just hope he don't get any stupid idea's on the way. Surreptitiously, Red checked for the revolver currently seated to the front left side - her holster, designed for a left-handed rear draw, had been brought round to the front to allow a right-handed belly draw while her shoulder was healing.

Mr. Wilson was standing on the steps, a repeating rifle in his hand. "Can you use one of these?"

Nodding, she just managed to catch the carbine suddenly thrown in her direction.

"Always best to have a long arm with you," the older man explained, needlessly as it happened - the investigator was well aware of a rifle's advantage in the open spaces of the plains.

At least this is something I'm used to firing right handed. She slid it into the rifle scabbard attached to the saddle's right side and gave the older man a brief nod of thanks, then turning to her scowling guide, she indicated the gateway with a false smile. "After you."

Eventually, about half way into the ride she noticed One-shot giving her a calculating look. Uh-oh, looks like he's worked out that this would be a great time for me to suffer a suitable 'accident'. "Don't even think it, One-shot, I've left a letter with Mrs. Wilson to be opened should I have some sort of nasty 'accident' on this trip." She hadn't actually, but was wishing she had, "It details what you said to me and that little barrel trick you pulled, and that should anything 'happen' to me they should start by asking you a few searching questions." She gave a hard smile that didn't reach her eyes, "Call it an insurance policy of sorts." He scowled back briefly then turned his face to the trail, the clenching of the jaw the only sign of any emotion he might be feeling.

The next half-an-hour passed in glowering but uneventful silence as the riders became more concerned with the bank of pinkish, heavily laden clouds that had unexpectedly filled the sky than with their private feud. Thankfully, they were riding up the main street of the small town of River Fork as the first flakes started to fall. Glancing around her as she rode, Red had the feeling that the town had barely changed in the last fifty years. It was obviously one of those one-horse towns that survived only to support the surrounding farms and ranches, its population being those that worked in those support roles with the town having no other reason for existence. Now, even that reason was being slowly chipped away as the railways continued to spread and the march of the internal combustion engine began to speed up transport by road.

They'd just drawn level with what must once have been the saloon when One-eye stopped abruptly to glower at his unwelcome companion. "You're on your own now. I'll meet you here at one to start back," he glanced up at the falling snow, "assuming this lot stops. Otherwise we get to stay the night." Then he kicked his big gelding on, continuing up the street.

Moving over to the hitching post in front of the ex-saloon that now advertised rooms, meals and fresh coffee, she pushed open the door and entered the smoky warmth of the room beyond. A quick glance around showed that this was obviously the small heart of the town. Despite the sign outside, she also had no doubt that alcohol was still being drunk. Walking over to the not-quite-a-bar, she greeted the not-quite-a-bar-man with a neutral, "Howdy."

The not-quite-a-bar-man, an overweight young man of about her own height with slicked back dark hair and furtive brown eyes gave her a confused and suspicious once over before giving a tentative nod of acknowledgement.

"What do you have to drink?"

"Can't you read? Coffee or soda - that's what we have."

Rolling her eyes, Red gave in. "A coffee then, black." Having paid, she took her drink and moved over to a small table in the corner where she turned a chair to the wall and sat down. Slowly, she studied the occupants of the room while warming her insides with what turned out to be a surprisingly good coffee. They in their turn were studying the stranger in town, and a stranger stranger they would have to go far to find.

Having finished her coffee she was just deciding whom, of the distinctly hostile looking customers, she should ask about Jim Silverwind when she became aware of someone approaching her table. Looking up she saw a young brunette who the investigator judged to be around twenty or twenty-one with an apron tied around her waist, moving towards her table.

Seeing Red look up, the waitress gave a bright smile and asked, "Coffee to your liking?"

"Not bad," she replied with a small smile of her own.

"Another?"

"Why not."

The waitress returned shortly later with a fresh mug of the excellent coffee and this time, not completely to Red's surprise, she asked. "New in town?"

"Working over at the lazy 'Y'."

A flash of surprise on the youthful face, "Really? Never seen a female puncher before."

For a moment Red nearly corrected the assumption then decided against it - why not let them think she was just a hand for the moment. Changing the subject she complimented, "You make good coffee here."

The young woman smiled. "Thanks, it's my own secret blend."

Red smiled back and took another couple of mouthfuls waiting for the waitress to leave, having done her 'be nice to the customer' bit, but to Red's surprise, she did not. Having finally finished the coffee she turned to face her watcher and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Yes?"

She blushed slightly, then began to stammer, "I'm sorry, it's just…" but was interrupted by the young man at the bar, "Lou, ma wants you." Turning over her shoulder, she responded, "Okay, Paul, keep your hair on." She glanced conspiratorially in Red's direction, "My brother," she explained with a roll of her eyes that brought a small understanding chuckle from her audience, and then she disappeared through the door into what the investigator presumed to be a kitchen of some sort.

Damn, should have asked her about Jim Silverwind. Red mentally kicked herself, looking around the room once more. Ah well lets see what else this little burg has to offer. Aware of multiple pairs of eyes following her exit, she moved across the room and out of the door. The first thing she noticed was that the snow was falling even heavier and she unhitched Lady, "First step, find a stable for you eh?" She laughed as the horse seemed to toss her head in agreement, "Spoiled you are," she muttered aloud as she brushed the faint covering of snow off the saddle and remounted.

It hadn't taken long to find the stables and arrange for the mare to be safely tucked up in a stall. She left the saddle on, just loosening off the cinches to make it more comfortable. After a moment's hesitation she left the saddlebags and carbine in place - her gut told her they'd be safe enough for the moment.

It didn't take long to find the other principle buildings in the town. There was a doctor's office and a barber shop, a general store, small bank, sheriff's office and mail office. In addition, there was a small schoolhouse next to the neatly kept church. It all seemed eminently normal. She had however had no luck finding Jim Silverwind, although the boy at the stables had suggested that she try the saloon later as he usually turned up there. Digging out her watch, she saw it was now coming up to midday and there was no sign that the snow was going to stop falling anytime soon. Looks like we are stuck here for the night, though that might not be such a bad thing if it means I get to meet Silverwind. As she reached the doctor's, she stopped. A moment's hesitation, than she opened the door and entered - she might as well get some more supplies for treating her wounds while she had the chance.

***

Evadne blinked into consciousness with a blinding headache that warred with a general sense of overall pain. Eventually getting her eyes to focus she found she was staring at a plain white ceiling that was definitely not her own, Where am I, she thought in confusion, and why does everything hurt so much? Happy now that her eyes, at least, seemed to be working, she turned her head stiffly to one side, thereby able to confirm her suspicion that she was indeed in a hospital. She tried to sit up but a wave of pain drove her back, a groan escaping her lips as she fell back. Hell's bells that hurts!

"Mrs. Lannis?"

Evadne blinked a few times while the pain settled, then turned to face the source of the voice. "Wha'?" Her mouth was as dry as sand and she was glad when the young nurse brought her a glass of water.

"Hurts," was about all she could whimper after the drink cleared some of the unpleasantness from her mouth.

"I'll get the doctor to check you over but, with a bit of luck you should be able to have some pain killers now. They daren't give you any earlier because of the head injury."

"Thank you," again her voice sounded disgustingly like a whimper, then, finally cutting through the blanket of pain, her curiosity asked, "What happened?"

"The doctor can tell you that. Now just you lie back there and rest, Dr. Flynn will be along shortly."

The nurse's predictions were soon proved true when an elderly gentleman with an impressive set of mutton-chop whiskers entered the room. Brusquely he checked her temperature, shone a light into her eyes and wrote down notes on the clipboard while rattling off terse instructions to the nurse.

Annoyed at the fact that he had ignored her completely she commented acidly. "And a good morning to you too, Doctor."

Startled, the doctor turned to face his patient and gave a muttered "Good morning," before returning to his notes.

"The nurse said you would be able to tell me what happened?"

A glare at the nurse then the doctor turned to face her. "You were caught in an explosion of some sort, and were brought in with a severe concussion, some minor burns and lacerations, especially to your left hand and arm. I am sure the police will be able to tell you more about what happened when they interview you."

"The police?" Evadne asked in confusion but she got no further information from the doctor who left the room without another word. Turning to look at the nurse, she saw the embarrassed look turn into a faint smile.

"Well, at least you can have those painkillers now."

"Thank you," the socialite said in gratitude before taking the proffered tablets and swallowing them in relief. Waiting for them to take effect, she tried to remember how she'd ended up here. The doctor had mentioned an explosion and the words had caused a flash of memory - an intense burst of light and heat that lasted for a millisecond, but that now caused her heart to race almost uncontrollably in her chest. The office! Memories came flooding back, the open doorway, the tension, the brief glimpse of the cord attached to the door handle split seconds before the ball of flame roared out through the doorway. Oh, dear Lord, was it a bomb?

***

Fuckin' doctors! Red fumed as she slammed the door hard behind her. In order to get the required items she'd had to undergo an examination of the wounds and, along with that had come the usual questions. She'd given the doctor short shrift over this in language that had turned his ears pink. Apologizing for his curiosity, he'd agreed to Red's purchases and had suggested a salve of his own that would help keep the scar tissue supple. She'd sniffed the salve warily, giving the doctor a suspicious glance, but accepting it with a shrug - if it helped then all for the better, if it didn't she'd make sure the town knew it. She'd just about calmed down from her annoyance at the enforced examination when the doctor had foolhardily asked her how she'd managed to collect so many gun-shot wounds causing her stormy and rapid exit.

As she was taking a couple of calming breaths, she glimpsed One-shot on the other side of the street in conversation with another man. It was pretty obviously they would be going nowhere today but she decided to confirm it with her unwilling guide. "Hey, One-shot!"

He looked up in surprise at her hail then settled his face into its usual scowl. "What you want, Wolverton?" he growled.

"Just wanna confirm that we're staying over."

"Yeah, unless you wanna risk riding in this mess."

She shook her head, "I ain't that mad!"

One-shot gave a unimpressed grunt and turned to follow the disappearing figure of the man he'd been talking with.

Returning to the ex-saloon, it didn't take long to secure the use of one of the few rooms kept for such purposes. The saloon-cum-hotel-cum-general meeting place also did reasonable hot meals, cooked by the talkative Lou's mother. She was just finishing off her apple pie when the door opened and two elderly men entered, one of which she guessed from the obviously Indian cast to his features to be Jim Silverwind. When Lou came to remove the plate, Red got her confirmation and the additional information that the man with him was Jim's long time drinking partner, Chalky White. The investigator was surprised when, after imparting this information the young woman had planted herself in the nearest seat and then held out a hand, "Seeing as you are staying over we might as well introduce ourselves, I'm Mary-Louise Greenhall, but most people just call me Lou."

Red glanced at the hand, then up into the open, expectant face before giving a faint sigh and, taking the proffered hand, replied, "Red." At the raised eyebrow she continued, with a roll of the eyes, "Wolverton, Red Wolverton."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Red Wolverton."

Still Lou didn't leave and the investigator was beginning to find the unwavering scrutiny from the amber eyes more than a little annoying. Turning her head slightly to glare at the puzzled face out of the corner of her eye, she growled, "Ten cents a minute."

"What?" came the surprised reaction.

"To stare at me. Ten cents, hand it over!" She held out her hand, palm up as if to accept the money, seeing the desired confusion on her questioner's face.

"Errm…"

"C'mon, give!" Red let a smirk twitch the corner of her mouth. "Or I get to return the favor," and now she turned fully to look at the young woman. Taking her time, she studied the attractive face and nicely curvaceous figure, knowing in the depths of her roguish heart that she was thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to do so openly. Noticing a blush start to color the young woman's face she stopped her appraisal and gave a wry smile, "Ain't nice is it?"

"Erm, no," Lou gave a wry smile of her own, "Sorry." She paused for a moment then added, hesitantly, "Can I ask you a question?"

Why can't they ever just take the hint and leave me alone? Another weary sigh, "What?"

"Why do you dress like that? I mean, I know pants are more practical especially if you're a puncher, but when you came in I thought you were a man, you even wear a gun."

Oh great, just what I need, some nosey little waitress on my case. "Assuming it is any of your business," she didn't bother to hide the annoyance in her voice, "it's jus' what feels right to me." Tapping the revolver at her waist, she added, "an' this is for nosey young women who ask too many questions."

Not a hundred percent sure that the strangely dressed woman was actually joking, but also aware that she'd overstepped a boundary, the waitress gave an apologetic smile and, with just the hint of a quiver in her voice, she added. "I'm sorry if I offended you."

Oh, jeez, not tears, anything but tears, Red thought in dismay. With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair and gave the young woman a brief smile. "Nah, I was being a jerk. I'm just so used to getting into trouble for jus' being me that I assume…" trailing off, she finished the sentence with an eloquent shrug before taking another mouthful of coffee. Now needing to get off the uncomfortable subject, she nodded her head in the direction of the elderly Indian, "Can you introduce me to Jim; I'd like to ask him about some of the local legends."

Jumping at both the change of topic and the opportunity to repair her gaff with the intriguing, if distinctly touchy visitor, Lou nodded before commenting. "Well he's certainly the man for that. C'mon," she reached out to grab Red's arm, then, noticing the glare, she stopped, finding herself apologizing once more. "Sorry." Then she moved across towards the elderly men. "Hey Jim, I've someone who wants to ask you about them legends of yours."

Getting up from her seat, Red followed the once more exuberant young woman across the room to where the two men sat. Jeez, I wish I was young like that again. She saw the double take the two men gave as she approached the table. Obviously having decided to make up for her earlier bad impression Lou did the introductions.

"Red Wolverton, meet Jim Silverwind and Chalky White; guys, this is Red Wolverton, she wants to know about the local legends."

There was an uncomfortable silence as the two men stared at Red while she, in turn, tried to keep her growing irritation at bay - she needed to find out what, if anything, these men could tell her.

"Damn, girl, what you doin' dressed like that." Chalky finally blurted out.

"Don't call me girl - you heard my name," she snapped back. Despite his words, she couldn't see any real malice in either man's eyes. Attack being, at least as far as Red was concerned, the best form of defense, she gave a provocative little smirk, "Or are you both as deaf as you are daft looking?" The surprised glance from Lou was hardly unexpected and the amused grins on the weather beaten old faces seemed to confirm her instincts about the old timers.

"Touchy ain't she." Jim now joined in.

"Stubborn as well I reckon," Chalky agreed.

"A puncher are you?" the old Indian asked, "Met a couple of female punchers in my time, you certainly seem ornery enough to be one."

A small grin in acknowledgement of the backhanded compliment then, with a half-shrug, she admitted, "Not anymore."

"But you said," Lou started.

"No I didn't - you assumed," she caught the hurt look, "Sorry, sweetheart, jus' seemed simpler at the time."

"So why are you here?" Lou continued.

"I am working at the Lazy 'Y', I just ain't a hand that's all. The owner asked me to look into some problems they're havin' and that," she turned to look at the two old men, "is why I'd like to speak to these old coots about the legends."

"Old coots!" Chalky blustered in feigned annoyance but unable to completely hide his grin, "Who you callin' old coots!"

***

The afternoon passed speedily. The two old men were a mine of information about the area and its history and she'd got a much more embellished version at to why Harry's Hill was taboo, although they had never heard of anything like what was happening now. Having exhausted that particular source of information, she'd encouraged the two men to carry on with their tales and, seeing an attentive listener, they had obliged. As evening started to draw in they made their apologies and left, but not without the promise that they would be back later, with something special for their new friend to try. Red had a fair idea what the 'something special' would be and wondered at how vicious the local moonshine would turn out to be.

Having brushed up her rough notes into a more readable version of the story Jim had told, she began to compose a telegram. Perhaps Evadne would be able to find something in those libraries she loved so much, perhaps something similar had happened before. Having got the request down to a suitably short length, she paused before adding, unconsciously assuming that her book-loving friend would find something, 'bring results'. Leaning back in the chair she smiled ruefully - perhaps Evadne could make sense of what was going on out here because she was failing miserably so far. The smile widened as Red belatedly recognized the main reason for the request. Admit it, little wolf, you miss her doncha?

Having ventured into the still falling snow to get the telegram sent, she took a short detour to check up on and properly un-tack Lady and retrieve saddlebags and carbine. This done, she returned to the saloon just in time to order her evening meal. She noticed that the faces in the saloon seemed to have polarized into two distinct camps as far as Red was concerned. Although many of the faces appeared friendlier, one particular group was looking distinctly hostile.

She was about half way through the meal when One-shot entered the room. He glowered briefly in her direction then headed over to where the hostile group sat drinking and talking quietly to each other. If that's coffee they're drinkin' then I'm a Dutchman. The greeting he received indicating that he was known to the group. Figures, I bet most of the hands are well known here.

She looked up as Lou came to take the plate. "Any chance of something stronger than coffee in this place?" she asked quietly.

The young woman paused a moment, obviously considering the possibilities that the stranger was a government agent of some sort. Apparently, it was decided that this was unlikely and she gave a sly smile. "Just ask Paul for a special, either short or long, next time you order."

Nodding her thanks, Red rose and moved to the bar to order her 'special, short'. Paul gave her an odd look when he heard the order but then disappeared into the back room for a moment before returning, mug in hand. Red could sense the alcohol even before the coffee mug was handed over. She was suddenly aware of eyes on her back; it looked like the whole room was watching her at this precise moment of time. Well I hope it is as reasonable as it smells, and she knocked the drink down in one. The whisky wasn't bad at all, more like bourbon than a malt with the caramel aftertaste of the former though there was a slight tint to the aftertaste she couldn't quite identify. As the spirit burnt its way down her throat into her stomach, she placed the mug down on the bar and asked for another one. Glancing around the room, she noticed most of the eyes had returned to their previous occupations, the only face still in her direction was that of One-shot. She gave him a mocking smile to which, to her surprise, he replied with a strangely triumphant smirk. Turning back to her second whisky, she pondered his unexpected reaction. The bastard's up to something, I'm sure of it, but what? Finishing the second shot with only slightly less alacrity Red ordered a 'long' and then, beer in hand, wandered over to where a second game of cards was underway. It wasn't long before she'd worked out that of the five men around the table, three were mediocre players and the other two were even worse cheats. Could fleece this lot with one hand tied behind my back, she thought in amusement, taking another swig of her beer. Surprised to see she'd finished it already, she returned to the bar to get another one. Hell, why not, she returned to the table and, indicating the free chair, asked, "Room for one more?"

The men looked warily at her for a moment before the oldest gave a brief nod of agreement, "Sure. Jim and Chalky seemed to take to you earlier, reckon you must be alright after all."

Taking her seat, she gave the men around the table a cocky grin, "Evenin', gentlemen," then, even as her small thread of common sense screamed against it, her suddenly cocksure attitude prompted her to add, "Ready to see how poker's really played?"

Four successful hands later Red had managed to accumulate a reasonable pot of winnings. Draining the last of her second beer, she stood up to get another only to find the room suddenly spinning. Clutching the edge of the table to stop herself from falling, she shook her head in an attempt to clear her head. It didn't have the desired affect, in fact it just seemed to make her vision blur. Fuck, what's wrong with me? She blinked a few more times but it really didn't help much. Probably just overtired, she tried to convince herself, jus' need to sleep it off.

Turning to the men at the card table, she grinned crookedly, "Sorry, gents, looks like I'm going to have to call it a night," and began somewhat unsteadily to scoop up her winnings.

"Hey, that ain't fair, we need a chance to win it back," one of the players complained.

"That's right, you should give 'em the chance. Unless you are scared your cheatin' might get noticed."

The voice came from behind Red and she spun, somewhat unsteadily, to stare at a vaguely familiar face. "I ain't been cheatin'!" Recognizing the man as the one One-shot had been talking to earlier on the street, she felt her anger rising. Common sense apparently giving up on the situation as a lost cause, her belligerent nature was left free to add challengingly, "an' I'll knock the lying teeth out of any man that says I was."

"Is that so?" The man turned back to his cronies, "Looks like this one needs a lesson learnin'." The mocking tone turned hard as he turned back to glare at the strangely dressed and gently swaying woman. "We don't like cheats here, or unnatural women that dress like men."

With this pronouncement, he threw a punch that Red only just avoided - her desperate dodge causing her to fall back against the table. As it tipped over under the momentum of her stumble, she found herself following it down to land in a woozy and confused heap on the wooden floor. Stunned by the sudden turn of events, and the mush that seemed to be her brain, Red only just managed to avoid the incoming kick. Then adrenaline kicked in, clearing the worst of the strange confusion and instead replacing it with a perverse glee. Ain't been in a good bar fight for years! With this thought, she flung herself at the fuzzily visible legs, letting out a wild whoop of joy as her target collapsed under her onslaught.

Saturday 11th February - Realizations

The resident corpse was back in her mouth for the first time in over a month, as was the herd of beeves rampaging around inside her skull. It wasn't only her skull that hurt, she realized, continuing the inventory of pain. In fact, everything seemed to be aching though the most persistent pain was coming from her shoulder, side and head. Her stomach didn't feel too good either, she realized in concern. Forcing gummy and, in one case, encrusted eyes apart she took stock off yet another unfamiliar ceiling. Perhaps I'll write a book one day - 'Ceilings of America' I'll call it. This ceiling was cracked and distinctly in need of repair, and there was an unpleasant smell assaulting her nose which was doing nothing for an already queasy stomach. Her suspicions as to her location were confirmed when she moved her head slightly and saw the bars.

"Oh fuck," she groaned, "I am so dead!" Though it'll be a toss up for who kills me first, Evadne or Theo, and I don't reckon the Wilsons would be far behind. Then she frowned, I never drank that much last night, so how the hell'd I end up in here? Her head still felt thick and her senses muzzy, as if she hadn't yet worked the booze out of her system which again felt all wrong for the amount she could remember consuming.

With another groan, as a fresh stampede pounded thought her head, she dragged herself into a sitting position on the hard but thankfully clean bed. Now upright enough to identify the source of the smell, she gave herself a mental pat on the back, at least I managed to throw up in the pail, she thought with perverse pride.

Having used the bucket for its main purpose, Red returned to sit somewhat unsteadily on the edge of the bed and took stock of her injuries. It felt like she'd been in a fight and all the signs were there to confirm her suspicions. Her right hand was badly bruised and grazed, the skin over the knuckle of her middle finger split. Even her left hand had a few marks on it, showing that she'd obviously managed to use it despite the problem with her shoulder - which was now settling down into the primary source of pain. Glancing under the dressings she could reach she was relieved to see no blood on either. She suspected the wound near her neck was a different matter, especially given that the throbbing was growing in intensity as the effects of the alcohol receded.

Frowning, Red considered what she could remember of the night before. She was damn sure she hadn't drunk that much, even if her body was plainly telling her she had. She prodded her jaw where it ached, producing a wince in response, and now having some idea what was encrusting the one eye, tried her best to wipe off what did indeed turn out to be dried blood. Definitely got yourself into a fight, didn't you, little wolf, gently opening and closing her right hand, feeling the stiffness begin to ease a little, she gave a small sly grin. Wonder what the other guy looks like.

Parched and foul-tasting mouth the next on her list of priorities, she rose from the bunk and moved to the bars to give them a rattle, wincing slightly at the noise as she sought to draw someone's attention, "Hey, anyone out there?" then added hopefully, "Any chance of a coffee?" A harder shake and a louder complaint, "C'mon I'm dyin' of thirst in here!" then a wave of nausea took her back to the bucket, then the bunk as the walls seemed to close in on her.

The noise of the outer door opening brought her head up out of the hands that had been trying to hold it in one piece and stop the top floating away. At least the sheriff had brought her the coffee she'd requested, then a desperate little thought added, either that or the vindictive son-or a-bitch is going to drink his in front of me. Thankfully, this wasn't the case and, as she washed away the resistant corpse with the fresh strong brew, she gave the rugged looking older man a grin of thanks - noticing as she did that the sheriff was watching her with distinct annoyance. Mug finished and handed back, she asked, "What happened? Why'm I in here?" and she gave the bars another rattle as she began to feel frustration take the place of confusion.

"You pretty much trashed the Ace last night. Take a piece of advice young woman and curb that attitude of yours before it gets you into real trouble."

Her confusion over the matter resurfaced. "I did? I can't remember." She frowned as she tried to bring back any memories of the fight she'd obviously been in. "This ain't right, Sheriff, I didn't drink near enough to get that drunk, believe me."

The man gave a disbelieving shake of the head, "That's what they all say." There was no mistaking the annoyance now as he turned to leave.

"Hey, wait, how long 'fore I get out of here."

Not pausing in his exit, he replied, "Forty-eight hours for drunk and disorderly, and you need fifty dollars for the fine and fifteen to pay for the damage."

"Sixty-five dollars? You gotta be kiddin', I ain't got that kind of money with me." I ain't even got that much back at the ranch. Shit, what do I do now? Wire Theo? Tell the Wilsons? That reminded her of her erstwhile guide. "One-shot, you son-of-a-bitch, you're behind this somehow," she growled under her breath, and then a sudden explanation for her apparent state last night flashed into her mind. Did the bastard slip me some sort of Mickey Finn?

"Sheriff?" She rattled the bars, "C'mon Sheriff, I ain't goin' to bite." When the older man appeared grudgingly in the doorway, she asked. "Has One-shot left town?"

Frowning at the question, he relied, "What's that to do with you?"

"The bastard's supposed to take me back to the Lazy 'Y'. Damn his little piggy eyes to hell and back!" she growled in frustration. She glared at the sheriff as she noticed him move closer and stare into her eyes with a look that changed from surprise to worry. "What you looking at?" she snarled, then to his rapidly retreating back, "Hey! Where's the fire?" but all she got in reply was the faint slam of a door. Sitting, still somewhat woozily on the bed, she muttered, "Don't think much of the room service in this joint."

She hadn't been happy when the sheriff had returned shortly afterwards with the doctor in tow. However, he had done a lot for the reputation of the medical profession, in Red's opinion at least, when, after looking intently at her eyes, he announced. "Your quite right, Tom, last night's fun and games wasn't due to alcohol alone - it looks very much like she's been drugged."

"See, told you I didn't drink that much." Red added her unwanted dime's worth.

"Shut up, Wolverton," the sheriff snapped, deep in thought, "Don't mean you ain't been dabbling with drugs as well as alcohol."

"Hey, I ain't never touched drugs," Red snarled back, "And I'll beat the crap out of the first man that says I have!" The doctor muttered something inaudible then the two men left her alone to rattle the bars in ever increasing frustration.

***

Having been deemed well enough to talk to the police, Evadne had spent a frustrating hour answering or, in most cases, failing to answer the police's questions. It obviously didn't help that Red was both well known and generally disliked by the force - she had the suspicion that had it been her partner that had been caught in the explosion their zeal would have been less impressive. However, as it was actually a member of the Brahmin elite who'd been injured, all stops were being pulled out - or at least that was the impression they were endeavoring to give. She had told them of the warnings she had received about Lucas Transom and the man she had bumped into in the hallway and what she could remember of the actual explosion itself. The lieutenant in charge of the case was circumspect about the usefulness of these facts, explaining that with the first being hearsay and the second, as she was not able to see the man's face, being vague, then neither were really of much use. By the time the police had finished Evadne had the impression that there was going to be a lot of noise and not much action as far as this particular investigation was concerned. Almost certainly helped by the fact that Transom, if as involved in the organized crime of the city as Joe's and her own research suggested, would have some of the cops on his own private payroll. The only useful, if somewhat disturbing, piece of information to come out of the interminable business was that the lieutenant had somewhat cautiously suggested that, as Red had been gone for some time and it was unlikely that her departure had been unnoticed, it was quite possible that Evadne had indeed been the intended target. This had been a revelation; she'd never really considered that she would become a target because of something she'd had no hand in. Once over the shock, however, hindsight did seem to make it obvious that she, as Red's partner and friend, would be an obvious target. It would seem that Transom had worked out that killing Evadne would be an excellent way at both striking back at Red and getting her back to the city and thus into his territory.

With the police now gone, except for a single officer guarding the door to her room, Evadne was now left with her thoughts and the physical reminders of what had happened. Thanks to the painkillers and the twenty-four hours additional healing, she was now able to sit up and take stock of what had happened to her. There was a bandage around her head holding a dressing in place above her right eye. In addition, her left hand and arm was swathed in bandages up to the elbow and she could feel some tightness and soreness to the left side of her face and body. She was still trying to work out the full state of her injuries when a younger, rather dashing looking doctor entered.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Lannis, my name is Doctor Jones," he gave a white toothed smile, "and how are we feeling today?"

"To quote a friend of mine," Evadne growled, "jus' peachy." Seeing the slight look of shock on his face at the combative reply she added, "What did you expect me to say?" Remind me never to ask Red that ever, ever, again! It is probably the stupidest question ever.

"Ah, yes, of course," he gave a slight smile in return, "it is rather a stupid question I suppose."

"So what is the prognosis, Doctor?"

The young man looked at his patient, a slight frown on his face. It would appear he was not used to well brought up ladies of the Boston elite knowing the terminology of his profession.

"Please be straight with me, Doctor, I spent most of nineteen-eighteen driving ambulances in Belgium and so I am fully aware of what explosives can do to the human body." Now the poor boy definitely looks shocked, she thought in amusement before continuing, "I appear to have all my limbs," thank the Lord, "and they all appear to work, at least as far as the bandages allow."

A brief cough to cover his embarrassment then the young doctor did as requested. "You suffered a nasty cut to the head and some concussion. The latter had cleared without, it would appear, any lasting damage. The cut will leave a scar but it will be in the hairline so not too visible." Indicating her heavily bandaged arm, he continued, "Your arm was quite badly cut, I'm afraid there will almost certainly be some scarring. In addition to this there were some minor burns but those are healing nicely and, if there is no infection, should clear up completely."

Ah well, Evadne thought in resignation, I was getting a bit long in the tooth for short-sleeved gowns anyway. Sound like I got off quite lightly considering. Frowning at the realization that she had indeed appeared to have got off very lightly, she asked. "Why so little in the way of damage. I mean I don't know how large the explosion was but it seemed big from what I can remember."

The doctor gave a conspiratorial smile. "Yes, I thought that as well so I asked the police about it. They think that the bomb was placed to direct most of the force across the doorway and that had you not noticed the door was unlocked and had just walked straight in the explosion would most likely have killed you outright." Evadne gulped slightly at having this fact so blandly stated. Well I did ask for it straight, she silently admonished herself, can't complain when that is what you are given. The doctor didn't notice her reaction and continued his explanation with distinct enthusiasm. "Fortunately, the combination of the walls and the direction of the blast meant you avoided the worst of it." He gave her a conspiratorial glance then added, "I went and looked at your office, you know. It fascinates me how the results of such explosions may be traced back to how it was set up. For instance it is not only the relative lack of severity of the injuries to your arm that indicated it did not take the direct blast but also the direction of the wounds." Glancing at his now distinctly grey faced audience, he came to a embarrassed halt and gave her an apologetic, bashful grin. "I'm sorry, I just find this all so fascinating. You know, one day I am sure we are going to be able to find out so much about what happened just from what is left over at such scenes."

As the young doctor left, Evadne lay back against the bed. Though dulled by the painkillers, the throbbing in her head and arm were still uncomfortable. As she lay there, thinking over what the doctor had said, the enormity of what had happened came flooding in. Someone had tried to kill her, had nearly succeeded. Almost worse was the way it had been done, not up front and personal but furtively brutal with no thought for any bystanders that might had been caught by mistake. Fear clawed at her gut and tears pricked her eyes as she suddenly wished Red was there.

***

Red jolted back into wakefulness at the sound of keys in the door to her cell. Rolling groggily up to a sitting position, she rubbed her aching temples then peered blearily at the sheriff. "Damn but I feel like shit," she complained to the world in general.

"Not surprising seeing as your drink was spiked." Opening the door he gestured with his thumb, "You're free to go, now get out of here."

Puzzled at the change in attitude and sentence Red wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and swiftly exited the cell to make her way into the main office where she was surprised to see a glowering and hand-cuffed One-shot and an embarrassed looking Lou. Ignoring the man, she turned to the young woman. "Howdy, sweetheart, why the long face?" she teased gently.

Before Lou could answer, One-shot was dragged, cursing under his breath in the direction of the single cell she'd just vacated.

"This ain't over yet, Wolverton," he spat as he passed her.

She didn't bother replying, just giving a self-satisfied smirk that he returned with a furious wordless snarl.

There was a moment's silence after One-shot had been hustled out of the room before Lou spoke up again. "I'm here to apologize."

Frowning in confusion, Red asked, "For what," then grinned, "You didn't join in playin' Red football did you?"

"It was my brother that spiked your drink." She stopped as an angry scowl appeared on the fierce woman's face. "Please don't hurt him, Red. One-shot put him up to it, Paul thought it was a bit of a joke that's all. After what happened last night he's scared as hell you're going to beat him to a pulp."

"No more that the little bastard deserves," she growled, instinctively clenching her fists at what the youngster's stupidity had put her through. Then a faint intake of breath brought her eyes up to meet Lou's scared amber ones and she stamped the anger down and turned the scowl into a faint smile. "Don't worry, kid, I won't do anything to him." She saw the tension visibly leave the younger woman's body, instantly disliking the part of her that had caused the fear. Then realizing what the waitress must have done, she asked, "You told the sheriff?" At the nod, she raised the down cast face with a gentle hand, "Thanks, kiddo."

A faint smile tugged at Lou's mouth, then she frowned, "Can we go back to the Ace, please?"

"Sure," the investigator frowned, "If you reckon I won't get tossed out on my butt the moment I walk in?"

There as a faint chuckle, "Oh don't worry, your fight will be the talk of the town for years. The fact that most of those you fought are both new to the town and not particularly liked certainly worked in your favor, but I think your sheer insane exuberance in the fight would have impressed them whatever." Glancing across at the strange woman's confused expression, she added, "I take it you don't remember any of it?"

"Not a goddamn thing," the battered investigator confirmed as she followed the younger woman across the street. Glancing up she saw that the sky was still clear with no sign of a cloud. No chance of getting' back to the ranch though, not without a guide.

Smiling openly now, Lou finished, "Well I'll expect you'll get to hear it over and over again and getting more exaggerated with each telling."

As the reached the entrance to the ex-saloon, Red paused, "You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"After you." Following the younger woman in, she felt a fleeting twinge of embarrassment at the scène inside. There was a pile of broken furniture in one corner and a couple of the windows were now boarded over. Damn, sure looks like it was one hell of a fight, a grin appeared at the corner of her mouth. Pity I can't remember any of it. There were no customers in the main room; it was too early in the day yet. The only activity came from Paul's half-hearted sweeping, which stopped as soon as he realized who had entered. Staring, he froze into a good imitation of a rabbit transfixed by a stoat. Little bastard! He ain't gettin' away with what he did scot-free, even if I promised Lou I wouldn't actually hurt him. Still glaring at the young man, she missed Lou's next words. "What?"

With a faint shake of the head and just the tiniest touch of irritation, she repeated, "I said that I asked ma to make you something to eat seeing as," she raised her voice, "it was my stupid brother's fault you missed breakfast this morning." Voice returning to normal she added, with what Red could have sworn was a guilty edge to her voice, "I'll bring it up to your room and I'll bring some water so you can clean that cut," then disappeared into the kitchen.

Thus reminded of the blood she'd found caking her eye earlier she moved over to stare into the mirror behind the bar. The left side of her face was covered in dried blood apparently originating under the stained and matted forelock. Gently probing the area, she winced as fingers found the probable source of the blood. A wry grin touched her lips as she muttered, "You look a mess, little wolf."

The faint sound of sweeping reminded her she was not alone in the room and she turned to glare once more at Lou's sad apology of a brother. Letting a feral grin appear on her face she sauntered over to where the podgy young man stood, a look of fear on his face. "Howdy, maggot," she growled, hiding the amusement she felt as he took a faltering step backwards and turned an interesting shade of grey. "So, thought slipping me a Mickey was fun, did you?" She advanced a step, he retreated another, "Did ya!"

"N..n..no!" he stammered.

Squirm, little maggot, squirm! She was thoroughly enjoying making him suffer for aiding in what, she had no doubt, was an attempt from One-shot to get rid of her, one way or another. "Always do this to your customers do you?"

There was a shake of the head, and another stammered denial then he added a contrite whisper. "Sorry."

She glared hard at the trembling young man. How'd he get to be Lou's brother, she thought in disgust. "Pull anything like that again and you will be." Turning away, she stiffly climbed the staircase to the first floor and the room she'd paid for but not used.

***

"Ouch! Damn! Shit! Fuck!" Growling in frustration, Red had been trying to work out how the wound in her shoulder had fared but failing miserably. The other wounds had been checked and the one on her side re-dressed - both having thankfully escaped the previous night's shenanigans without much in the way of damage except for knocking off some of the scabs. However, the one in her neck was frustrating all attempts to see what was going on. There was no mirror in the room and, despite her best efforts, her head wouldn't turn enough other than to get a peripheral glimpse of the injury. Tentative fingers had, however, come back bloodstained and she was just beginning to come to the hated realization that she was probably going to have to visit the doctor to get it looked at when there was a tentative knock on the door.

"What?" she growled, letting the frustration and pain tinge her response.

"It's Lou, with your belated breakfast."

There was a rumble from her stomach as she suddenly realized quite how hungry she actually was. Still trying to work out by touch alone the state of the hole in her shoulder, she responded without thought. "Come in, the doors not locked."

She heard the door open then a shocked gasp from the doorway behind her. Damn! Just sit there half-naked an' bleedin' for some innocent gal to walk in on why don't you! Looking over her shoulder, she gave the startled looking Lou an apologetic smile then, nodding to the table. "Just put it on the table, sweetheart."

Returning to the wound, she couldn't help the snarl of frustration escape her lips even as she heard Lou place the tray on the table and move back towards the door. She was surprised when a tentative voice asked.

"Need some help?"

Biting down on the automatic denial she turned on the edge of the bed so she was facing more towards the door and studied the young woman carefully, noticing how the amber eyes were now looking everywhere but at her. A grin quirked the corner of her mouth, cute when embarrassed, this one, the starved libido commented, before her common sense reprimanded it with a stern, get a grip, wolf. Seeing how the eyes were still fixed somewhere up near the ceiling, she added, an' an innocent it would appear, but one with a good heart.

Confused by the lack of an answer, Lou muttered, "Sorry," then turned to go.

Forced to decide between her and the doctor, Red quickly spoke. "Don't go." Then, as Lou turned to look not quite at her, she admitted, "Yeah, I do really need some help if you are willin'?"

With a nod, Lou moved back into the room. "Whaddaya want me to do?"

"First," Red grinned, as the young woman still wouldn't look at her, "I need you to stop studying what must be a fascinatin' ceiling and look at me."

A faint blush now coloring her face, amber eyes came down to meet twinkling blue-green.

"I don't bite you know," Red teased, and then smirked, "Well not often." Noticing the discomfort on the youthful face she mentally reprimanded herself for being so mean to the girl when she was just trying to help and, with an apologetic smile, asked, more gently this time. "Never done anything like this have you?"

At the slight, embarrassed shake of the head, Red continued, "Don't worry, just do what I say, 'kay?"

"'kay!" Lou gave a faint, slightly worried smile.

"I need you to take a look at this," Red gently touched the wound between neck and shoulder, "I can't see what state it's in, I need you to tell me what it looks like."

Frowning, Lou moved over and peered somewhat queasily at the damaged area. "What happened?" she asked as gentle fingers moved over the wound. "You've got bits of dressing sticking to this, it looks like it needs a good clean. Eat your breakfast while I get some water warmed up for you." Before Red could respond, Lou left the room shutting the door after her.

Red obediently wolfed down the food, quietening her grumbling stomach and finishing just as Lou returned with a bowl of warm water, iodine and some cotton wool. Apparently over her shyness at the situation, the young woman briskly ordered Red to turn and face her. Puzzled, the reluctant patient did as she was told, to find the woman brushing the forelock off her forehead and lifting a blob of damp wool to the side of her face.

"What you doin'" Red grabbed the hand.

"You've got a nasty cut above your eye." Red could have sworn there was a twinge of guilt in the young woman's voice.

Belatedly remembering, she gave an apologetic grunt and let go of the hand, "Forgot 'bout that."

"Uh huh."

Gently the dried blood was washed off and Red couldn't help but comment, "You've got gentle hands."

"Thanks." The cloth was rinsed and squeezed then returned to the cut. "I think this needs stitching."

"Nah, it'll be alright."

"Collect scars do you?"

Someone's lost her embarrassment I see. "They seem to like me."

A brief snort of laughter, then Red was handed a small mirror. "Here, take a look yourself then, I still reckon it needs stitching."

"Yes, boss." She peered in the hand mirror at the cut, more a split really, on her brow. Mentally weighing up the likelihood of an extra scar with that of seeing the doctor she gave a shake of the head. "Nah, it'll be okay." She looked up to see amused amber eyes. "What?"

"I wouldn't have thought you were scared of a few stitches."

The challenge in the voice made her growl back, "I ain't, I just hate doctors, period, okay!" She glared at the young woman, sensing she was going to ask more. "Period!"

"Okay," Lou held up a placatory hand, "okay, no doctor, I get the message." After a final dab with the iodine she was about to apply a dressing when her arm was once more stopped by a strong hand. With a frustrated sigh, she commented, "Well if you won't get it stitched then at least put a dressing on it, for heavens sake."

Amber met blue-green for a brief struggle of will, then the amber gave in, but not without a muttered. "Of all the stubborn, mule headed, idiotic…"

A small smile twitched the corner of Red's mouth as, still muttering, Lou moved to examine the wound in her neck.

"Here!" the hand mirror was thrust into her hand, "now if we work this right you should be able to see this for yourself."

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Lou had another mirror. "Good idea, sweetheart."

The young woman gave a pleased smile at the praise then the fine brows drew together into a faint, puzzled frown. "D'you always call other women sweetheart?"

"No, only those I like, or those I wanna annoy." Seeing the confused look, she grinned, "Take your choice." The grin widened as she saw Lou roll her eyes in an oh too familiar gesture of amused exasperation.

It didn't take long before they had angled the mirrors so that Red got a good look at her neck. The whole area looked red and bruised. A large lump of the scab had been knocked off and blood was seeping out of the exposed area. "Shit, I really need to stop doing this to myself."

"What did this?" Lou asked as she carefully cleaned the wound under Red's guidance. A hissed intake of breath made her stop in alarm. "I'm sorry, but some of the old dressing is really stuck on."

"'kay," Red gritted her teeth and soon that specific bit of pain was over.

"Were you shot?"

Why can't people mind their own damned business, pain-filled irritation prompted before she grudgingly answered, "Yeah."

"Ouch," Lou responded sympathetically.

"Yeah, definitely ouch." Red gave a small smile at the understatement. Not wanting to explain how she'd got the injury, especially as it would mean further questions as to quite why her business partner and friend had deemed it necessary to shoot her, she asked. "So what did happen last night?"

"I think you need to ask Jim about that, I suspect he has the story down pat already."

"They were there?" Red asked in surprise, she had no memory of seeing them.

"Arrived just as the fight started." Lou confirmed as she continued gently to clean the seeping wound.

"Fuck, I hate not being able to remember."

"What is the last thing you do remember?" The young woman kept the conversation going, realizing that it was keeping her impromptu patient's mind off the pain that her ministrations had to be causing.

Scowling, Red tried to make some sense out of her fuzzy, incomplete memories. "Winning at cards?"

"You don't remember Bill Stone accusing you of cheating?" At the shake of the head, Lou continued, "You denied it, quite forcefully as I remember, then he tried to hit you. You got out of the way but fell over in the process." A frown creased Lou's forehead at the memory, "I was really worried at that point, you looked like you were really drunk and Bill's creepy buddies were moving to help him and they looked really mean. Then up you popped, knocking Bill's feet out from under him and giving," she gave a smile at the memory, "this incongruously happy yell, and just laid into them. I never seen anything like it, they certainly hadn't - I think you shocked them into immobility." She laughed out loud at the next memory. "The table you threw at them really put them off their stride, and then everybody else joined in. I think you threw Bill through one of the windows, not sure who went through the other. Eventually, news that the sheriff was on the way meant that everyone involved and still conscious made themselves scarce, except for you that is. You didn't take his arrival very well…"

The strangely dressed woman stood swaying slightly in the remains of the room, looking around in puzzlement at the sudden lack of opponents. At the sound of the saloon door opening she had turned to stare at the newcomers, the stare becoming distinctly hostile as she saw who it was.

Sheriff Tucker took a good look at the mess before turning his gaze on the still glaring and swaying figure.

"She started it, Sheriff," One-shot pointed, "Punched poor Bill out of the blue then went berserk when we tried to calm her down."

"Fuckin' liar!" The strange woman had growled, right hand moving towards the revolver still miraculously in the holster at her waist.

"See," One-shot smirked, "told you she was nuts. Claims to have killed three men already - you should arrest her before she makes it four."

Breaking her story, Lou glanced at the older woman looking both intrigued and a little scared. "Is that true?"

"Having killed?" Red gave a sad sigh. Now staring at her hands as she opened and shut them, testing the bruised skin, not wanting to meet the young woman's eyes, she finished. "Yeah, I'm afraid so."

After a surprised look, at both the admission and the sad way it was given, Lou continued her tale.

Apparently making up his mind, the sheriff stepped forward, hand out. "You're under arrest, Miss, now give me that gun."

Lou's heart jumped into her throat as the drunken woman drew her revolver with shocking speed and pointed it in the lawman's face. To his credit, Deputy West was only seconds slower in drawing his own gun but slow enough for the sheriff to thankfully raise a calming hand. "No, Stu!"

"I ain't being arrested for somethin' I didn't do!" Red snarled, the gun not wavering from its target.

Holding up placatory hands, the sheriff tried to reason with the unreasonable. "C'mon, Miss..."

"Don't call me that!".

"Her name's Red," Lou quickly informed the sheriff.

"C'mon, Red, put the gun down now." The sheriff had taken a small step forward only to see the strange woman take an unsteady one back.

"I ain't being locked up so you bastards can beat the crap out of me again!"

Lou could have sworn there was a hint of fear mixed with the anger in the strange woman's voice. Then the deputy spoke for the first time. "Why not just shoot her, Sheriff, she's obviously mad and resisting arrest."

"Shut up!" the older man snapped, "She's drunk not mad. And I ain't had a man, or a woman, shot bein' arrested yet and I don't plan to start now."

Lou glanced across at the deputy, she was worried to see no such resolve on his face, in fact, he looked like he would be quite happy to plug the woman at the drop of a hat. She needed to do something to try and break the tension - she wasn't unused to breaking up brawls but never had she seen a gun drawn before. Gripping the wooden blackjack in a sweating hand, hoping it wasn't visible where it was tucked up her sleeve, she called, "Red?" Relieved to see the confused, angry eyes flick toward her, she took a step forward.

"Miss Greenhall!" The sheriff's concerned warning drew Red's attention back to him, fingers tightening their grip on the revolver.

"Red, look at me please," she urged. Thankfully the blue-green eyes once more focused on her and she took another step closer, "Don't do this, Red," another step and she was nearly within striking distance and still the revolver pointed at the sheriff, not her; another step and still nothing alarming in the blue-green eyes. "Put the gun down, Red, please!"

"No!" a firm, angry shake of the head.

"I thought the deputy was going to shoot you if you weren't stopped." Lou finished.

Thoroughly confused now, Red just stared at the unexpectedly embarrassed looking young woman.

"I thought I'd try and calm you down, woman's voice all that sort of thing y' know." Noting the disbelieving look she added angrily, "Hey, it ain't the first brawl I've broken up you know, just the biggest!"

"So, what did you do?"

"Um, well, do be honest I just did what I do when it's a man in the same situation."

Uh-oh!

"Dunno why I thought it would work on another woman."

No, you probably don't, do you, sweetheart? Red could see the blush working its way up Lou's face.

"Well, I sort of shimmied up to you."

"Shimmied?" Red couldn't help the snort of laughter for which she received an annoyed slap on the leg.

"Stop that!" After a glare, Lou returned to the story, "I shimmied up to you and, well, sort of, put my hand on… um…. and…um…went as if… and you looked as if… and then…"

Oh gods, I didn't!

"I hit you."

"What?"

"Sorry, that cut on your forehead, it was me - I'm soooooo sorry!" Lou had expected any number of responses - anger, fury, hatred - but not the one she now saw as the woman she'd so effectively coshed burst out into laughter.

"You hit me?" she gasped through the laughter. "Oh, that is jus' priceless," still she laughed, "an' there I was panicking over whether I'd ki..." She just managed to cut off the incriminating word and she let the laughter subside into chuckles. Glancing over at her assailant of the night before she was surprised to see tears glistening in her eyes. Not tears. "Hey, it's okay, I'm fine, honest." She rapped bruised knuckles against her head, "Joe's always telling me this is the thickest part of me."

"Joe?" the young woman sniffled, "is he your husband?"

Just stopping the snort of laughter, she answered, "No, just a friend, a very good friend."

"Your boyfriend?"

This is getting a bit close to the bone, Red thought as she caught the appraising glance the young woman was giving her. "No." then she saw the eyes tearing up again and Lou started to snuffle.

Ah, crap! "Hey, what's the matter?"

"You'll hate me if I tell you." Lou looked away, staring out of the window.

"I doubt that. What could be worse that knockin' me out for Christ's sake." The younger woman turned sharply back to look at her and Red gave a lopsided smile to take the sting out of her words.

"I… I wanted to."

Red could see confusion and a little fear in the still wet eyes, but there was also a glint of something else. "What?" Uh-oh, perhaps she does have a clue.

"Kiss you." For a moment, amber looked deep into blue-green before tearing up and darting self-consciously away.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck!

"Now you hate me!" The young woman was crying in earnest now.

A fuckin' baby dyke in a fuckin' one-horse shit-hole of a town like this - the poor kid's not got a cat in hells chance. "No I don't." Red laid a tentative hand on the sobbing back, giving it a brief, uncomfortable rub before moving to the window to look out into the once more falling snow as she tried to decide what to tell the young and distinctly vulnerable young woman.

The sniffling had subsided and a small voice asked, "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you," Red replied with a sigh. How would Janet have dealt with this? It had been months since she had thought of her murdered ex-lover and the realization sent a pang of guilt through her heart. C'mon, Red, you need to help this girl, there ain't no-one else. She moved back from the window and knelt in front of the still hunched up young woman. Taking smaller hands in her own, she repeated, more forcefully this time, "There ain't nothing wrong with you, Lou. If anything ain't right it is this lousy world we have to live in that won't let us live they way we want or love the people we want, be it a person of a different race or the same gender." She saw the flash of understanding in the now red-rimmed amber eyes and, with a crooked grin, confirmed. "Yeah, me too."

"Really?"

"Really, cross my heart an' hope to die." Red solemnly did just that.

"So what's it like?"

"What?" Red was puzzled by the apparent change in subject.

"Kissing a woman?" The cute blush was back on Lou's face.

Libido now in full-scale attack, Red could feel her restraints buckling under the assault. Aw crap, was her final rational thought before she leaned forward and answered the younger woman's question for her.

The kiss was tentative at first, Red trying to take it as slow as raging hormones would allow. She was surprised when she felt a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her closer. Hmm, not so innocent it would seem, when Lou's mouth opened and a tentative tongue touched her lips, she was truly surprised. Quick study my backside, she's done this before, and she pulled away.

"What did I do wrong?" the young woman asked a mixture of desire and confusion on her face.

"Nothing wrong," Red replied, "Been practicing on boys have you, with no suitable women around?" Fuck, please don't say I've been caught in some bored kid's damn experiment.

"No!" the response was immediate and angry. "No, I haven't kissed anyone before, well not like that." Now she blushed again, "I just, well I read it in a book so I thought it was…and… sorry," the last was so quiet as to be almost inaudible.

"Some book," Red replied. "So, question answered?"

"Not completely," and then Lou turned on what had to be the sexiest grin that Red had seen in a long while.

"Dear god, woman, if that is what you used on me last night I'm not surprised you got close enough to hit me - though I am surprised I actually noticed the blow."

Lou smirked, "I have been practicing you know, though it isn't quite the same when it's a man."

Then Red felt the young woman's lips on her own once more, the tongue again begging entrance. Jeez, I've awoken a monster! Was the amused thought as she permitted the requested access. Wonder what else she's learned from that book.

***

The laughter was not helping Lou's temper, Red could see that but it was just so ridiculous. "Deflower? Where the fuck did you come up with that little phrase?" another chuckle before she answered her own question, "Let me guess - that book of yours?"

"It isn't funny," Lou was sulking now, "How else am I supposed to learn about… such things." Then the sulk turned into a smirk, "Unless you teach me."

Red lifted herself off the bed so that she now sat back on her heels looking down at the younger woman. She frowned at the unexpected turn of events and how quickly it had happened. As they'd kissed, Red had felt Lou's legs wrap around her waist and without thought, had lifted her up and onto the bed, not breaking the deepening kiss. She was sensible enough of what she was doing to let the younger woman dictate the pace of her first encounter but after their lips finally parted the urgent whispered plea had hit Red's sense of the absurd, causing the unappreciated laughter.

"Well, are you just going to sit there and look?" came the sulky grumble.

"Lou, sweetheart, you need to think about this. Think about it hard."

"I want you now," the young woman growled.

Ah, gods, what did I do to deserve this. Red thought battling both her own raging libido and the wandering hands. Grabbing Lou's wrists, she snapped, "Stop it, Lou, an' listen for a moment." Having got her attention, Red continued, "Lou, you need to know what being like us means. If this is just an experiment or something you should stop it. If people find out that you are a lover of women you are goin' to face hate, disgust, even physical violence, perhaps even from your own family." Before Lou could deny this possibility, she continued relentlessly, "My pa despised me for what I am, beat me until I was stronger than him then sent me half way across the country to be 'cured'." She blinked back unexpected tears, "My ex-lover and best-friend was killed because someone hated what we are. And even if it isn't that extreme there are always the looks and the comments." She looked down into shocked eyes, "Even if you try to keep it secret someone will find out, especially in a place like this. If you're very lucky you'll find some people might be okay with it but believe me, sweetheart, most will not." Letting go of Lou's now limp wrists, she gently touched the side of the shocked face. "I'm sorry, Lou, but you have to know."

"I…" The younger woman paused, taking a deep breath then finished. "Thank you for telling me, Red, but this isn't an experiment - it feels too right." She studied Red's face, biting her lip ever so slightly as she considered then decided. "I had a friend," she started, not sure why she was telling this strange woman something she'd never told a soul before. "We were thick as thieves as kids, always together." She laughed, "We were a right pair of tomboys, always getting into trouble. Got quite a reputation as nere-do-wells we did." The smile turned sad. "It nearly broke my heart when she left… I think perhaps I loved her but I didn't know what to do or even if she felt the same way." She sighed, reaching out to run the back of her hand down a nicely muscled arm. "Show me what it's like, please?"

Red lent over and gave the younger woman a gentle, tender kiss, "Are you sure?"

"Sure."

"If you want me to stop just say so, 'kay?"

"'kay?"

Slowly, gently, but with a growing passion, Red introduced Lou to the wonders of another woman's body.

***

"Jeez, sweetheart, are you always that quick a learner." Red mumbled into the younger woman's chest where she had collapsed, totally spent.

Smiling at the compliment, Lou pulled the older woman closer and whispered in her ear, "I had a good teacher."

Chuckling, Red rolled over onto her back, gesturing to Lou to move closer. "Now the cuddle, always remember the cuddle," she instructed solemnly, tucking Lou under her arm so that she lay on her side, head in the crook of Red's shoulder. Not sure what to do with her arm Lou was relieved when it was taken and draped across a firm stomach with the gentle request, "Just watch my side, okay?"

"'kay," Lou muttered exhaustedly into her lover's sweat slicked skin.

Red felt the young woman slipping gently into sleep, with her own body dog tired but satisfied she didn't think she'd be long in joining her. Still feeling somewhat guilty over whether she'd taken advantage of the younger woman's desires, she was glad she'd not done as the young woman had earlier requested. Jeez, little wolf, are you gettin' to be a mushy old romantic in your old age, she smiled at the memory of her explanation.

"Lou, I ain't goin' to 'deflower' you. That is something you should only give to someone you truly love, someone like your friend," Red road over the denials, "This ain't love, girl, this is lust, pure and simple," she gave a roguish smile, "Nothing wrong with that mind you, you just need to recognize it for what it is."

Grinning, she decided there had definitely not been anything wrong with what they'd just been doing. A sudden flash of the guilt resurfaced then she felt the arm around her stomach tighten briefly and a murmured, "Thank you, Red."

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Her doubts succinctly answered, she placed a gentle kiss on the top of the dark head as the younger woman nuzzled herself into a more comfortable position before relaxing back into sleep.

Staring at the ceiling, Red now considered her next move. She was effectively stranded at River Fork unless Mr. Wilson sent someone to guide her back or she could find someone willing to guide her out. After some internal debate, she decided to give the ranch boss a day to fetch her. If nothing was forthcoming in that time, weather allowing, she'd find a guide of her own. After all, another day's relative comfort was not to be sneered at. A lazy grin spread over her face at the thought that perhaps Lou would want some more instruction. Running her hand gently up and down the silk-smooth naked back, she now wondered how Lou would react to what had just happened, Red could only hope that the youngster wasn't the type to go giddily and dangerously silly and lay herself open to derision for the sake of one night's adventure. Christ, I hope not, for her sake.

Just as she too was on the edge of sleep her own thoughts came back to haunt her. Could she really live out here as she had been able to in Boston? In the city, there'd been others to support her and none of the prissy nosiness so often explained off as neighborliness that meant secrets were impossible to keep in the small, tight-knit communities of the plains. Shaking off the treacherous thoughts, Red closed her eyes and slipped off into sleep - with the snow still falling outside she wasn't going anywhere today.

Sunday 12th February - A new adversary

The next day dawned clear once more, but on the horizon there was the ominous suggestion that it might not last much longer. Red was just about to resign herself to another day at the Ace when the door of the saloon opened and Lefty entered. Glancing around, his face took on a relieved look as he saw her and hurried over.

"Red, there you are. Where's One-shot? Why didn't you come back yesterday?"

She glanced up at him. "One-shot's in the caboose," then returned to her week old newspaper.

"One-shot's been arrested? Why? We need to get him out."

Shaking away the hand that was trying to pull her to her feet she snapped, "It's what he deserves."

Lefty stared in stunned silence for a moment. "What happened?"

"What happened? The son-of-a-bitch nearly got me shot. If the sheriff had been like most of his kind I probably would be up in the local boot hill by now." Red snarled, "He can rot in there for ever for all I care!" She could see the confusion and indecision in Lefty's face as he kept glancing over his shoulder.

"He's going to be really pissed."

"And you think I ain't!" Standing abruptly, she spun the young man around to face her. "He slipped me a Mickey Finn then tried to get his buddies to beat the shit out of me. When that didn't work he tried to get me arrested or worse." Seeing she had got the youngster's attention, she finished, "So, now, what do you think I should do?"

"I… I dunno," Lefty stammered. "He's always been a bit on the mean side but I didn't think…" He stopped, obviously thinking it over. "We need to let the boss know."

Red nodded her agreement; she also needed to find out what was going to happen to One-shot. "Come on."

As she left the saloon, she heard Lefty belatedly following.

"Where you goin'?"

"To the sheriff's. And no," she cut short the expected question, "I ain't goin' to get him released."

It didn't take long to reach the office. Opening the door, Red saw the older man look up in surprise then frown.

"Yeah, what d'you want?"

"What's goin' to happen to One-shot?"

The frown deepened, "He's been released."

"What!" Red stared in disbelief. "How the hell'd that happen?"

The sheriff looked slightly abashed, then answered, "No evidence."

From his tone it was obvious that he was unhappy with what he was saying and Red found her anger rising. "No evidence! What about what Paul told you? What about the evidence of your own ears?"

For a moment she thought he was going to say something, then jaws clenching, he just reiterated, "There was not enough evidence so I had to release him."

"Who told you to let him go?"

The sheriff looked up for a brief moment before returning to his paperwork

Red studied the top of the graying head for a moment then gave up in disgust. It was pretty obvious that One-shot's release had been forced on the sheriff. That meant it had come from someone local and with serious clout. But why would he have that sort of friend - unless he was more that a simple ranch hand. Well, at least he was out of her hair now. With a weary look at her silent shadow, she left the office and returned to the saloon. Leaving Lefty to kick his heels in the not-quite-a-bar, Red returned to her room.

She'd just finished packing her saddlebag when the door behind her opened. After a quick glance over her shoulder, she returned to her packing. A moment later Lou's arms snaked around her waist, pulling her tight.

"You're going?"

"Yeah." Turning, she gave the pouting lips a quick kiss then removed the arms from around her waist.

"Will you come back?"

Red smiled, "If I get the chance."

"Well, you know where I am."

"I sure do," and she lowered her head, meaning to give the younger woman another quick peck only to find her head firmly grasped and she was being kissed deeply, hands running through her hair, holding her close. Breathlessly they parted, Lou giving a sexy and very self-satisfied grin, "Just a little going away present and a come back soon bribe."

Red grinned back briefly then her face became suddenly serious. "Just remember what I said, Lou, be careful, 'kay?"

"I will, Red, don't worry."

There was a moment's uncomfortable silence then Red gave a small smile and headed for the door. Lou followed her down into the room where Lefty was still waiting. "Thanks, Lou, see you around."

Lou smiled, "See you around, Red."

Leaving the saloon, the investigator couldn't stop the happy grin from appearing on her face. As they entered the livery stables, she managed to school her face into something a little less self-satisfied and turned to face the still silent Lefty. "Ready to head back?"

"Sure," the youngster nodded then grimaced ruefully, "Though I'll leave explaining how we lost One-shot to you."

"Fair enough. You get me back and I'll square things with Mr. Wilson."

As they were leading the horses out there was an unexpected figure waiting for them. Red eyed him warily but saw only indecision and even a touch of fear in his face.

"A friendly warning, Wolverton, Luke Danforth isn't a good man to have as an enemy." Then with a quick nod, Sheriff Tucker turned and walked away.

Red didn't bother calling after him, experience told her that was all she was going to get and even that was unexpected. Turning to Lefty, noting the youngster was now frowning. "Who's this Danforth then?"

"The Danforth spread neighbors the Lazy 'Y'."

"So Luke runs the spread?"

Lefty's frown deepened then he shook his head in puzzlement. "No, never heard of him. Might be one of the sons I suppose."

Leaving it at that, for the moment at least, Red mounted and indicated that Lefty take the lead. Mulling over the events of the last couple of days, she followed him up the snow-covered street and back towards her temporary home.

Monday 13th February - An unexpected visitor

Evadne laid aside the book in frustration. She'd spent the last day in solid reading, working steadily through the volumes Theo had gotten from the Myskatonic's library. When Theo had passed on the telegram Red had sent, she'd known that the best place to find anything would be the university's library, especially its specialist section that dealt with myths, legends and the supernatural. A willing Theo had been sent to ask the librarian for all he could find that might provide the answer to the somewhat curt and yet vague question Red had posed. At least the intellectual exercise was keeping her mind off the pain and increasing itchiness of her bandaged arm. So far, she'd found myriad references to an earth spirit, almost every culture and tribe at some point worshiped the earth mother in some form or other and the Pawnee were not different. But she'd been unable to find any reference to the earth spirit as a malevolent entity, chaotic and cruel yes, even perfidious but not outright evil. Neither was there any mention of the sort of monumental mound Red had mentioned, certainly not amongst the Pawnee or any of the plain's tribes.

Evadne sighed and laid back into her pillow rubbing her aching temples - hours of constant reading didn't seem to be agreeing with the faint remnants of the concussion. She thought back to the last words on the telegram. Wish I had Red's confidence that I'll be able to find anything, assuming there actually is anything to find! At least obeying the abrupt instruction would get her out of the city, something both the police and Theo had urged she do once released from the hospital, at least for the time being.

The sound of Theo's voice made her look towards the door in surprise. She hadn't been expecting him to visit today. There was another voice as well, a female one with an accent that caused her chest to tighten in momentary hope until she realized it wasn't Red she was hearing. Despite the accent, this voice sounded educated almost cultured, nothing like her friend's usual abuse of the English language. Laying aside her current book, she watched the door, intrigued as to why Theo was here and who his unknown companion could be.

Theo entered, giving Evadne a warm smile before holding open the door. The woman who entered was somewhere in her mid twenties with well cut wavy light brown hair and intelligent gray eyes. She was dressed in a well-tailored skirt and jacket with a mannish collar and tie - the sort of attire often worn by those women working in one of the male dominated professions.

"To what do I owe this unexpected visit, Theo?" Evadne asked good-humouredly. "And are you going to introduce us," she added.

"Mrs. Evadne Lannis, this is Miss Margaret Wilson. She's a reporter for the Omaha Women's Gazetteer."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Lannis," the young woman spoke, the familiar accent strangely soothing. "I hope you are recovering well."

"Yes, thank you, Miss Wilson." Evadne smiled, "And please, call me Evadne." Then she turned to Theo again, "So why are you here then?"

"Could I not just be visiting my favorite step-daughter," Theo teased.

"Your only step-daughter," Evadne riposted with a small smile.

"I have some information that Mr. Criffy thinks might be of interest to you." Miss Wilson offered, opening her shoulder bag and retrieving a small book. "I believe that your partner asked you to look into the legends associated with the land around the Lazy 'Y'? This may be what you are looking for."

Evadne took the book, a slim, leather-bound, dog-eared volume. Turning it over to see the gold embossed, slightly flaked title on the cover, she read it aloud. "Adventures with the Wolf people - the journals of Father Della Croix". She gave the young woman a perplexed look.

Miss Wilson gave a small cough. "I should perhaps explain. My father is the ranch manager at the Lazy 'Y'. Last summer there was an archaeologist working on the large man-made mound not far from the ranch. One day he and his assistant just upped and left. Although he had supposedly returned to his university something about it just didn't feel right," she quirked a sudden grin, lightning her previously serious mien, "call it journalistic instinct. Anyway, I checked up and there was no record of Dr. Cathern ever returning to New York. In fact, as far as his colleagues were concerned he was still at his dig."

Evadne frowned, glancing at Theo. "Did you know about this man?"

Theo nodded. "Yes, he had my permission to be there. It was all above board as far as I could see." He pulled a wry face. "However, it was around the time that Katherine got involved with Red so I'm afraid my attention was rather elsewhere."

"So, Miss Wilson, why do you think this is related to what Red is looking into?"

"I didn't even know there was a problem at home until Mr. Criffy told me." There was definite annoyance in her voice over this fact but then she gave a small shrug. "Even now I'm not sure it is related but Mr. Criffy suggested we see what you think."

Suddenly remembering her manners, Evadne offered. "Please take a seat, Miss Wilson, and tell me what you found and where this," she held up the small book, "comes into it."

It didn't take long for the reporter to lay out what she had discovered. She'd followed the archaeologist's movements over the few months leading up to his request for permission to excavate on the hill. His colleagues had been surprised even baffled by this request. It was not his normal area of expertise and he'd actually been scheduled to join a prestigious dig in the Middle East that summer. Backtracking his movements, she'd found that the sudden change of heart appeared to have coincided with time spent researching ancient cults at the Myskatonic University. She'd followed this up, coming to the University itself, and had managed to find the books he'd been looking at. Most of them had linked in with his work with Middle Eastern cultism; however, the book detailing the experiences of a eighteenth century priest with a Pawnee tribe seemed oddly out of place. Reading it, she'd picked out what appeared to be a reference to a manmade mound like that on the Lazy 'Y' that might well have been the reason for his sudden interest in the hill. The one thing she still could not understand was what it was about the story that had so fired his interest to make him give up on the opportunity of a lifetime in order to self-fund a small excavation consisting of only him and his assistant.

"I decided I better let Mr. Criffy know what I'd found," the reporter finished. "He then told me what had been happening and how he'd sent Miss Wolverton…"

"Red." Theo and Evadne both interrupted. Seeing the surprised look, the socialite clarified. "She doesn't like being called Miss."

Miss Wilson gave a slightly surprised look before continuing, "Sent Red to look into it and that she, in her turn, had asked you to look into the legends of the area. That," she indicated the dog eared volume, "is the book that appears to have changed Dr. Cathern's mind and may just provide the information asked for.

Theo now spoke up. "I'm going to suggest you both go to the ranch as soon as possible, let Red know what Maggie has found. Evadne, if you could take a look at the book, see if there is anything you think of interest in there."

"We can take it with us?" Evadne asked, surprised that the University would let the book go so far out of its reach.

Theo nodded, giving a slightly guilty smile. "Let's just say that the University owes me a favor or two."

Evadne closed her eyes against the pounding that had started up in her head once more. Despite the pain, she smiled slightly, glad to be seeing her ruffian friend even sooner than expected.

"I think we have taxed you enough, Evadne." Theo commented guilty seeing the frown of pain on his stepdaughter's face. "I'll get James to sort out the travel arrangements for you. Have the doctors said how much longer they will be keeping you?"

"Another two days then, if all is well, I should be discharged." Evadne opened suddenly tired eyes. "I think I would like to rest now."

"Of course," Theo squeezed Evadne's hand. "Sleep well."

With her visitors gone, Evadne lay back on her pillows and stared up at the ceiling. The facts of Dr. Cathern's mysterious disappearance were enough to raise concerns in her mind. Coincidences did happen, but this seemed just too unlikely. She sighed wearily, closing her eyes. Soon, she was drifting into sleep, her mind still puzzling over how the archaeologist's disappearance could be linked to the killing of the cattle.

***

Despite Mrs. Wilson's suggestion-cum-order that she should rest her injured shoulder for a few days, Red wasn't going to let the clear sky pass without doing something. The next day she rode out to look at the hill in more detail. She'd been close when a huddled lump surrounded by a halo of pink snow caught her eyes. As she'd ridden over, excitement growing at every step, the shape resolved into the half frozen, bloody remains of a steer. There were no sign of tracks, other than that of the beast itself, which ended where it now lay. Taking out her notepad, she made a brief sketch of the carcass, and then used her compass to take a bearing on the only landmarks visible, the hill itself and a small stand of weather-beaten trees. Having done this she dismounted and moved cautiously towards the gruesome sight. The body lay on top of the snow, meaning it must have got there sometime since that night's snowfall.

She studied the carcass in more detail: it did indeed look just as if the animal had been torn apart, parts of it lay all around yet nothing seemed to have been eaten, it didn't even look as if any scavengers had gone near it. Red could think of no animal big enough to do this sort of damage and then not eat at least some of its kill. Thankful that the freezing eliminated most of the smell, she moved a little closer. Examining the areas of the hide that weren't completely shredded she saw what looked like claw marks and large ones at that. The pulpy, bloody mess that had once been the beast's internal organs could easy have been caused by similar weapons. Red had to admit it was just plain strange, she couldn't think of any natural explanation for what she was seeing. There was something else about the scene that was tugging at her subconscious but, even after staring at the carcass until Lady started shifting uncomfortably beside her, she still couldn't work out what it was.

Mounting up, she left the remains and carried on to the hill. She removed the shovel strapped to the saddle and began climbing the side of the hill. Slipping and sliding in the snow, she was breathing hard by the time she'd reached the summit. The truncated top provided a roughly square platform about ten yards across. One edge had been severely eaten into by what appeared to be a small landslip but the rest seemed fairly secure. After a brief rest to catch her breath, she took out the binoculars tucked inside her coat. The top of the hill made an incredibly good vantage point and in the clear winter air she could see for miles in all directions. She easily found the huddle of buildings that made up the Lazy 'Y'. Turning around 180 degrees she could also make out another group of buildings on the distant horizon - the centre of the Danforth spread.

Lowering the glasses, she continued to stare at what was now just a faint smudge against the snow. She couldn't quite shake the feeling that she hadn't heard the last of One-shot or Luke Danforth. She now knew that Luke was indeed one of Nathanial Danforth's son, his eldest in fact. After his immediate annoyance at One-shot's actions and disappearance, Mr. Wilson had been extremely forthcoming about his neighbor. It was obvious that they didn't get on. Indeed if there'd been any evidence to support it, she was certain he would have pinned the strange occurrences on Danforth at the drop of a hat. The root of the problem appeared to be an area of disputed land bordered by both spreads that included the hill. It had been wrangled over for years but recently Danforth had suddenly provided legal deeds to the land. Wilson couldn't believe that they were genuine, nor had Mr. Criffy, and the deeds had yet to be legally ratified. So, for the moment at least, the hill still belonged to the Lazy 'Y'. When Wilson had started to rant under his breath about Danforth having also poached one of his hands, leaving him now three men short, Red had made a discreet exit.

Beginning to chill after standing still for too long, she picked up the spade and began to clear an area in the centre of the platform. It took about half an hour to clear enough of the snow to be able to see a good section of its surface. As Silverwind had said, it was covered in roughly dressed stone laid closely together. What was unexpected was that there appeared be no sign of vegetation in the gaps between the stones, as if the soil there was completely infertile or even poisonous, even the lichen and mosses expected to be covering the ancient stones were not there. Sitting back on her heels she studied the curiously dead ground. Wonder if there's something about these stones that's poisoning the ground? While she studied the rough surface, Red once more went over the story Jim had told her.

In the days of old, before the time of the people, the earth mother blessed this spot and it became a source of power and health to the surrounding land, making the buffalo grow strong, the coyote cunning, the grass lush, the deer fleet of foot. Then when man came to the land, it made them clever but not, to her later despair, wise.

For many years man lived happily with its fellow creatures, then a stranger came from outside of the land. He too felt the power of the land but his heart was twisted by evil and he wanted to bind the power to his own use and to his only. Although his heart was dark, his tongue was honeyed and soon he learned the powers of the shamans. These, the wisest of the people, had learned to direct the power, increasing its benefit to all the land. Soon the mother had grown used to their guidance, trusting in her chosen ones to do what was right and her attention moved to areas where she was needed more.

It was therefore nearly too late, when she realized that the blessed spot had been corrupted, that an evil spirit had twisted her power to its own ends. The stranger had persuaded the people to raise a great mound to control the power of the land, harness it in the hill's heart. Fortunately, she had been able to direct her shamans through their leader, Swift Wind, in how the evil could be destroyed. Eventually the dark one had been forced to the spot from where he had drawn his power and there a mighty battle had taken place. Eventually the dark one had been defeated and all but Swift Wind lay slain. No sign of the tawny haired man they'd been fighting was ever found and despite the great sacrifice, the evil he'd brought forth had only been bound, not destroyed. For the rest of his life Swift Wind fulfilled the mother's final instructions, performing the rituals to contain the entrapped malevolence as had his successors ever since.

Frowning, Red pondered over what Jim had said, or more specifically, failed to say after he'd finished the tale.

"The ceremony still continues?" Red asked as Silverwind finished his story, genuinely interested in what the Indian had told her, irrespective of any link to her investigation.

He gave her a look that combined anger and loss. "Your people drove us off our lands, there are none left to continue the ritual."

"But you're still here?"

"It takes a medicine man to do the ritual." He snapped, unreadable dark eyes staring hard into her own.

Despite the way he met her gaze, Red thought there was a hint of evasiveness in Jim's manner. For a second she nearly pursued the feeling but then decided that it was best not to aggravate her one possible lead so far. Before the ensuing silence became too uncomfortable, Chalky swiftly started a light-hearted story of his own. The smoothness with which he diffused the situation suggested this wasn't the first time he'd had to do so and it wasn't long before the uncomfortable moment was apparently forgotten..

Looking at the barren stones, Red wondered if there was something to the tale of evil trapped in the hill. An increasingly unsettling feeling was settling over her, like an itch in the back of her skull. It was akin to the feeling she got when being watched but much more disconcerting, especially as she had no idea what, if anything, it meant. Don't be so damn jumpy! It's just Jim's story and that imagination of yours. However, the stones, the hill as whole, interesting as they were, was not helping her anymore than anything else she had found. What she needed was to actually see what was happening to the cattle, or if not that then at less find a witness. But with the weather as it was and the relatively wide area to cover, that was unlikely. The only positive thing, if it could really be considered positive, was that the frequency of the incidents was increasing.

SEVEN DAYS LATER

Monday 20th February - An enemy from the past

For the following week, Red spent every available moment riding aimlessly around the area where the carcasses were found. She's been finding more and more of them and had been beginning to wonder if what ever happened only happened at night when she'd come across a fresh body that lay over tracks she had made earlier that day. The fact that things were apparently happening during daylight made her rethink her approach and instead of randomly riding, she'd instead started to follow the herds as they crossed the area in question. She'd been doing this for a week, shadowing the herd from a reasonable distance in an attempt to avoid scaring off whoever was doing whatever it was they were doing, when something finally happened.

She was watching a small group of cattle, some hundred strong when there was a slight ripple of consternation and they began to move purposefully away. Not scared exactly, not the sort of reaction you would expect from the presence of coyotes for instance. Nevertheless, something had discomforted them enough to move faster than their normal ambling pace. The bulk of the herd headed towards her and she rode to meet them. Passing between their ranks even as they began to settle once more, she saw the cause of the movement. There lying on the snow, a little way from where the main body of the herd had been, was a fresh carcass. Looking around she could see no sign of anyone or, come to that, anything. Unable to see the cause, she slipped off Lady and moved over to inspect the fresh remains. Getting closer, a perplexed frown furrowed her brow. Removing one glove, she knelt by the scattered, steaming lump of flesh, again seeing the signs of vast claws. Okay, this is now officially fuckin' weird, was her worried thought. The unsettling feeling she'd felt on the mound had started up again and she stood swiftly, looking around for the watcher. Unexpectedly uneasy, she could see nothing other than the now placid herd some distance off. Fighting off an unwanted and unnerving desire to mount Lady and get the hell out of there, she instead took some careful bearings. Opening a couple of buttons, she reached into her jacket and removed her dog-eared notepad. Findings duly written down, she replaced it back into its warm niche, re-buttoned the jacket and drew the gloves back onto now chilled hands - all the motions forced to being calm and deliberate even while her nerves pranced around like a spooked horse, unsettled by the strange feeling. Glancing down once more, she saw that the steer's flesh had stopped steaming, but that only fed rather than lessened her unease. To prove to herself as much as any unseen watcher that there was nothing wrong, she mounted Lady with deliberate carelessness and rode off towards the slow moving herd. More thankful than she would have believed, she found that the unnerving feeling faded the further away she got, the skin on her back and neck eventually ceasing to crawl with a fear she couldn't explain.

Thankful that the day was nearly up she left her vigil and rode back to the ranch. As Lady plodded the now familiar way home, Red went over and over what she had just seen but finding nothing to help and a lot to make her feel uncharacteristically uneasy. Rustlers, even madmen she could cope with, but this was beginning to feel less and less like that and, she admitted to herself before firmly thrusting the unwanted emotion to the back of her mind, what she had just felt truly scared her.

Leading Lady into the stable, she was surprised to see some unfamiliar horses there. Wonder if the other hands are back? Must be about time for them to return; perhaps Wilson will be less like a bear with a sore head now. Once she had Lady safely bedded down for the night, she pulled off her jacket and gloves and hung the fedora on a handy nail. After warming up stiff muscles, she gave the makeshift punch bag a good pummeling. She'd rigged it up in an attempt to curb her boredom when she couldn't get outside. Now, her attack on the straw stuffed sack released the anger that had replaced the unexpected and unwanted fear. Goddamn fool, getting' spooked like that, weren't nothing there but your bored an' overactive imagination! Berating herself roundly, she put punch after angry punch into the inoffensive hessian, feeling the slight burn on her knuckles from the rough material. As the anger was released and composure once more regained she was pleased to see that her left arm seemed to be improving; there was definitely more strength there even if the movement was still limited. Feeling more relaxed she shrugged the coat back on over a now sweaty shirt and made her way out of the stable and towards the bunkhouse. Although she had little hope that either Dutch or Patch would be able to add anything to what little she already knew there was always the slight chance. If nothing else, she would now be able to find out if there was any reason why Patch's real name, Peter Westerman, sounded familiar.

She'd just knocked the snow off her boots and entered the bunkhouse's short corridor when she heard her name mentioned in a familiar voice, subconscious immediately and unexpectedly identifying it as Westerman though that was not the only name it supplied her with.

"So the snooper's called Wolverton eh?" There was raw anger in the man's voice that bordered on hatred, "Wonder if she's related to the little bastard that did this."

"You never did tell us how it happened, Patch."

"Bastard kid did it, an' if I ever lay hands on the little son-of-a-bitch again he's going to regret it for the rest of his short life."

Like a moth to the flame, Red moved towards the main room, suddenly knowing how this story was going to go.

"So how'd it happen?"

Sounds like Smithy, she thought catching the morbid curiosity in the older man's voice.

"Little bastard hit me in the face with an old piece of timber, there was a nail in the end."

There was a sharp intake of breath then Lefty's voice said in a slightly sick tone, "It went into your eye?" A shocked pause followed then, "Christ, I think I'm going to throw up."

In an instant, her mind went back twelve years to stables not too unlike the one she'd just left. She'd just finished brushing down her horse when she heard faint giggling coming from outside the door. There was only one person the giggle could belong to, the ranch owner's daughter for whom she had a huge crush. Indeed, so obvious was it that 'Jed' had been teased mercilessly about it by all the hands. It wasn't the first time she'd had a crush on a woman but it was the first time she'd found she wanted to do something about it, but a callow fifteen year old boy held no interest for the apparently worldly-wise seventeen year old Becca and, even if she had, she dared not reveal her secret. Then she heard Stretch's laconic voice - she was well aware that the young woman had been charmed by the tall eighteen year old's laconic charm and good looks, not noticing the temper that Red had become personally acquainted with. With no other way out and not wanting to be accused once more of spying on them and the resultant withering comments from her beloved Becca, she clambered up into the hay-loft, From her vantage point she watched the two come in and after glancing around they kissed. Red watched in impotent jealousy as Stretch kissed and fondled her Becca, worst of all was that she seemed to be enjoying it. During this Stretch had been guiding the girl across the open space so that she was now pressed up against the wall, his hands dropping to lift the floral-printed skirt and for the first time Red saw some hesitation in the girl's manner.

"What you doin'?"

"C'mon, Becca, you want it as much as I do." Even as he spoke, Red could see him fumbling with his fly.

"Stop it, Stretch."

"C'mon, girl,"

Now she could see panic beginning to form on the girl's face as Becca tried to struggle out of the position she was trapped in, the young man seemingly oblivious to her distress.

"Please, stop it." The struggle was frantic now but still Stretch didn't seem to notice or care.

"Playing hard t' get now are you," his voice had lost its charm and he suddenly placed a hand over the young woman's mouth.

Anger caused Red to half rise from her place of concealment and Becca's eyes fixed on her, a mute appeal in them even as she continued to struggle in vain.

"Leave her be, Stretch. Can't you see she don't want it."

The youth stopped his fumbling but didn't lose his grip. He glared over his shoulder, up at the intruder, "Fuck off, Wolverton, before I give you the thrashing of your life."

Red jumped down from the hayloft, she wasn't scared of Stretch; yes, he was bigger and stronger but she was faster and more skilled and, despite numerous attempts, he had yet to best her with his fists. "Leave her be."

Becca had managed to remove the hand from his mouth and spoke reassuringly, "Please, Stretch, let me go, I won't say nothing…"

He turned to glare at the girl, "You won't say nothing? You've been leading me on like some lovesick calf and now you ain't going to say nothing? That's rich, that's really fuckin' rich that is. How many others have you done this to?"

Red had heard the anger rising in the young man's voice but the violence with which he threw Becca against the wall shocked her and she stared in horror as the young woman fell into a groaning heap. Then he turned to face her.

"You her accomplice in this, Wolverton? Has she been letting you fuck her when she won't let me?"

Red backed away a step, the rage in the young man's face startling her. Glancing at the faintly groaning Becca, she held up placatory hands - she needed to get someone to look at the girl, she could be badly hurt. "C'mon now, Stretch, you know Becca ain't got eyes for anyone but you." The words only seemed to anger him more and she watched in disbelief as he drew the knife from the sheath on his belt. This was a completely different ball game now, she knew, and a possibly deadly one at that; moreover, it was one she'd had no experience with. With no knife of her own she glanced around for something to defend herself with, seeing a length of wood half buried in the straw a few feet away. That momentary loss of eye contact gave Stretch his opportunity and he lunged forward. She just managed to get her arm in the way, stopping the blade before it hit her stomach. Feeling the blade cut deep into her forearm, Red kicked out blindly, thankfully making contact and causing Stretch to back off, cursing. Nearly falling over herself in her panic she dove for the lump of wood, pulling it from the straw and swinging it at her assailant's head in one movement. The resultant scream that emitted from her attacker was like nothing she'd ever heard before. Paralyzed by the unearthly noise, she watched him fall to his knees; clutching his right eye, he continued to make sounds more like an injured animal than a man, as a mixture of blood and clear liquid leaked through his fingers. Then she became aware of the pain from her own wound and the warm blood flowing down her forearm. Dropping the lump of wood, she stumbled into a corner to be suddenly and violently sick. Having brought up everything in her stomach, she became vaguely aware of Becca's panicked voice shouting for help before she blacked out

All this passed through the investigator's mind in moments as she continued towards the voice.

"Little bastard was jealous 'cause I had the boss's girl and he wanted her. When we were having a harmless little fumble on the hay, he jumped me, hitting me before I had a chance to defend myself. Then he told her Pa some pack of lies about me forcing myself on her: lost me my job, my girl and my eye."

You lying son-of-a-bitch! Red paused in the doorway. Here was a situation she'd never expected, not even in her wildest imagination. She'd all but forgotten about the incident, and to have the man at this ranch was unbelievable. Jus' my fuckin' luck, she thought in exasperation, but I can't avoid this, he ain't stupid, he'll work it out eventually, especially if he sees the scar on my arm. Her mind whirled as she tried to work a way to get out of this situation but there was no way Stretch, or Patch as he was now known, was going to forgive or forget, he'd lost too much. If it wasn't now, he was going to come after her as soon as he found out. Ah, shit, there's only one way out of this an' that's to get the stupid son-of-a-bitch fired again. Thinking with her fists again, she concluded, An' there is only one way I can guarantee that, a sudden guilty presentiment added, I just hope Evadne will forgive me. Even as she came to her reluctant decision, she heard Patch's final comment.

"Vowed there and then, that if I ever found the bastard I'd rip him to pieces."

Stepping out of the slight shadow of the corridor, into the room proper, she drawled. "That's funny, Stretch, that ain't how I remember it at all. An' for your information it was Becca that told her pa, not me." Her nerves were drawn so tight that she nearly laughed out loud at the expressions on the stunned faces that turned in her direction. There however was nothing funny about the way the stunned look on the face of the man with the patch over his right eye turned to livid rage.

Even as Lefty asked a puzzled, "It was…" the one-eyed man growled in furious rage and, knocking the bench over in his haste, charged at his suddenly available enemy. With a speed that completely surprised her, she was grabbed by the front of her jacket and slammed hard into the wall against which she had been leaning. Stunned by the blow to the back of her head and the sudden flare of pain from her neck and shoulder, she sagged in the man's grip. One hand released its hold on the front of her jacket then a forearm was over her neck and pressing hard into her throat. Shaking herself into something like resistance she tried to knee the much taller man in the groin but he was too close and she couldn't get enough leverage to do anything other than annoy him even more. The attempt at punching him in the side of the head with her right fist was blocked with his free arm and she could barely feel her left at all - it certainly wasn't obeying her brain's frantic commands. As she once more tried to punch with her right, fighting against the wooziness brought on by the lack of oxygen, she felt it caught by the wrist then pushed hard against the wall. Red was vaguely aware of alarmed voices even as the mad, one-eyed face moved even closer to her own, snarling victoriously, "Now die, you little bastard." She could feel herself weakening fast as he pinned her against the wall, the forearm across her neck making even her act of last resort, the head-butt, impossible without crushing her own throat in the process. Ah fuck, it weren't supposed to go like this - the bastard wasn't supposed to be so fuckin' fast! Then the spots in front of her eyes merged into solid blackness.

***

She felt the pressure of teeth through the material of vest and shirt. Gentle, almost tender to start with, the force of the bite steadily increased until the incisors pierced her skin and still the jaws continued to close, cutting through flesh, crushing bone until finally she screamed out in agony and utter despair. Then the jaw opened: the grating of teeth on bone was felt rather than heard, submerged by the sucking noise from flesh unwilling to give up the weapons that had so damaged it. Despite the sickening sensations, all she could wonder was why the pain had stopped. Stealing herself, she looked at her shoulder, seeing the ripped flesh, the bright blood now staining her front and pooling on the stone table. Then, with a sudden and vertiginous shift, she was looking down on her own body, blue-green eyes staring blankly up at her. The god's massive back hid most of her now separated physical form but the pool of blood was growing at a deadly rate. Suddenly she felt another presence. A female voice, warm and heavy with the passing of millennia, spoke in words that were incomprehensible but somehow she understood. Red moved down, closer to her wrecked body, until she hovered about three feet above the tawny head. Suddenly the lion face turned upwards, staring directly at her disembodied form.

"This is not your business," he growled, baring bloodstained fangs.

The voice spoke again, strong, determined. Again, the meaning was as clear as the words were unintelligible. Ahriman grimaced in anger and Red could see the claws suddenly extrude, tearing into abdomen and chest where her body was still held down.

"She is mine!" the words were roared, barely comprehensible in the god's fury.

"I belong to nobody." Red spoke the words placed in her mind. "Any claim ceased to exist in the same instance the last fragment was willed out of existence. This you cannot deny."

"No, she is still mine." Ahriman spoke quietly now, cradling the limp, blood-soaked body as if it was a child, holding it tenderly to his broad chest. "I will reclaim her as I will reclaim your power." Abruptly he stood, body still in his arms, and ran through a doorway that had not been there before. Immediately Red moved to follow but could not.

'His flight does no good. See.'

Gaze drawn back to the stone, she saw her limp body lying there as if it had never been moved. Now she could move, was being moved. Down she drifted, until she was within touching distance of her own bloody and, as she could now plainly see, very dead body. Prompted by the unseen presence , she laid her hand over her own chest and a faint glow began. It started red, then purple. As she watched in fascination, the glow changed from color to color as the body was healed. First, white jagged edges of smashed bone moved and knitted back together then the flesh was rejoined and repaired until finally the light turned white and a jolt of power surged through her... and she was looking up at the stone ceiling. The voice spoke again, for a moment sounding achingly familiar, 'Little Wolf, the time of trial approaches. Heed my people. Trust your heart. Now sleep and heal.'

***

The scent of lavender and a voice touched at the edge of her consciousness, both familiar for a reason she couldn't quite fathom. Something warm was wrapped around her hand and after a moment she realized it was another hand. The voice spoke again, apparently to some third person, and a frown drew together pale brows even as the eyes stayed shut. Then it came again, definitely aimed at her this time as the hand holding hers was removed.

"Don't play possum on me, Wolverton, I know you are awake." The younger woman's heart lurched happily as she recognized the voice with its familiar mixture of exasperation and concern.

"Evadne?" Opening her eyes, she was relieved to find she was lying on her own bed, a single blanket covering her. A quick check also showed that, bar her boots, she was still clothed.

"What am I supposed to do with you? You were supposed to be resting that shoulder, NOT getting into any more fights - but what do I find when I arrive?"

Having found the source of the voice sitting on a chair by the side of the bed and glaring at her in frustrated annoyance, Red tried to give a disarming grin. "Always nice to see your lovely face, Evadne," only to find, to her surprise, that she really meant it.

"Stop that, right now! That hasn't worked before and it won't work now!"

The socialite got up and began to pace and Red suddenly saw the real concern and hurt on the older woman's face. She struggled painfully up into a sitting position, wincing at the complaints from assorted abused body parts. "I'm sorry, Evadne, I really didn't think the son-of-a-bitch would..." she stopped dead as her unexpected but welcome visitor turned to glare at her once more.

"You provoked the attack, Red. Don't think I don't know the way that sad little mind of yours works by now; the others may think otherwise but you provoked that attack and don't you dare try to deny it!"

Clenching her jaw in guilty annoyance, the younger woman nevertheless couldn't deny it and the socialite knew it. "Yeah, thinking with my fists again weren't I?" Uncomfortable with the unexpected feeling of shame that accompanied the admission, she tried to change the subject. "How long have I been out?"

Evadne continued to stare hard at her infuriatingly reckless friend. "Not long. No more than five minutes." Relief that Red was now awake was warring with returning anger at what she'd done. When Evadne had rushed into the bunkhouse, she'd barely given the snarling one-eyed man a glance as he'd been bodily removed. Her heart had jumped into her throat at the sight of Red's unmoving body. Feeling tears springing unbidden to her eyes she'd swiftly knelt, searching for a pulse, feeling a surge of relief at the steady beat. However, as she'd found out what had happened, the fear had rapidly turned into anger at how stupidly reckless her friend had been.

Only a few minutes? Not so bad then. Red stared at the older woman, her confused brain finally pointing out the impossibility of her getting there in that period of time. "Wha' the hell are you doing here?"

"Well thank you so very much for the resounding welcome." Evadne snapped irritably.

"You know what I mean, how'd you get here so soon?"

""You asked me to come - remember! - so here I am." Anger tinged with concern, she added waspishly, "and there you are - hurt - again!"

"Talking of which," Red grimaced as a stab of pain reminded her of what had happened, "how bad is it?"

"To be honest, it's a miracle you didn't reopen all the wounds." Evadne sighed as the anger suddenly drained out of her as she saw the pain flicker across her friend's face. Taking the seat again, she reached for Red's hand, surprised to find it rise to meet hers. "The one in your back has been bleeding a little but all-in-all you seemed to have gotten away more lightly that you deserve." She was amazed when her hand was gently squeezed, almost as if the westerner was trying to comfort her not the other way around. "And how your throat survived without permanent damage is a mystery to us all."

Red gave a weak grin, "Well, if it is any consolation it sure hurts like hell."

Rolling her eyes, Evadne couldn't help a small smile appearing. "I can only assume from the bruising that his arm was just too low to damage your voice box." She stopped for a moment then hesitantly asked, "How is the arm?"

"Tingling like hell, like pins-and-needles with bells on," she admitted, then noticing the bandages around her partner's left hand asked in surprise, "What happened to you?" Before Evadne could answer and with a teasing grin she hoped would disarm the older woman's very obvious annoyance, she added, "Don't say you've picked up one of my bad habits an' started thinking with you fists as well?"

Before the socialite could answer, a voice came from the doorway.

"Excuse me, ma'am."

Looking past Evadne, Red saw a concerned looking Rick in the doorway. Seeing the patient was awake, he gave her a brief smile then returned his attention to the older woman.

"Mr. Wilson told me to tell you he's sent for the sheriff."

At Evadne's answering nod, he left.

"The sheriff?" Red asked warily.

"I suggested he call them in." At the surprised, angry scowl she added, "That man tried to kill you, Red, and there are witnesses to the fact. He, in turn has accused you of maliciously injuring him when you were younger, that's quite a serious charge in itself."

Red continued to scowl at her partner, furious that the decision had been made without her say so. "Damn it, Evadne, you know how I feel 'bout the cops. Country cops are even worse, believe me."

"So what do you suggest we do about Mr. Westerman then? Let him go? String him up from the nearest tree in your charmingly rural western fashion?" Evadne watched as Red continued to glower at her, jaw clenched, but the real anger had gone from her eyes. Eventually, as expected, the stubborn woman had given the brief nod that usually masqueraded as an apology and promptly changed the subject.

"So what did happen to your hand?"

***

"I dunno what to say," Red mumbled after Evadne had finished her story. "I'm sorry, truly sorry that you got caught up in my mess." The rare apology was a sign of how guilty she was feeling. She could not but agree that the bomb was most likely planted on Transom's orders because of what her out-of-control rage had done to him. If only she'd escaped the room as soon as he'd been knocked to the floor then none of this would have happened.

"Don't worry Red, what's done is done. You weren't yourself." Seeing the still dubious look on the younger woman's face she continued, "What was it you said to me? 'If wishes were horses, beggars would ride'? I'm fine, really I am." She gave a small smile, "And it gives me another excuse to come out and visit you," her face turned mock serious, "and a good thing too by the look of you, can't leave you alone for a minute can I."

Red wasn't going to be so easily distracted. "No, I shoulda been able to control it," she muttered under her breath, watching her hands clasp and unclasp.

Evadne gave a gentle sigh, recognizing the now familiar gesture and lack of eye contact. Yet again, Red was refusing to accept any excuse for what had happened, unable to see that just because she hadn't been able to control her supernaturally enhanced rage or see through her lover's machinations, it didn't make it all her fault. The older woman suspected that the stubborn refusal to accept what had happened was not her fault had a lot to do with the westerner's father - the hell-and-damnation preacher had an awful lot to answer for as far as she was concerned.

"You were right by the way," she changed the subject.

Red stopped the guilty examination of her hands, looking up with a puzzled frown. "'bout what?"

"We did find something; or should I say Maggie did?"

"Maggie?" Red asked, confused.

"Margaret Wilson."

"The Wilson's youngest kid?" Red stared, "What the hell was she doing in Boston?"

Evadne was surprised by the abrupt almost accusatory reaction but nevertheless answered the question. "She'd been to see Theo, he brought her to see me. Did you know there was an archaeologist working on that hill you mentioned?"

"Yeah, skedaddled unexpectedly or so Mrs. Wilson told me." Red frowned thoughtfully. "It sounds damn fishy but I can't see how it links in with the beeves."

"Well I think you should talk to Maggie about what she found out and how it led her to a book that I think you'll find interesting."

"Show me." The blue-green eyes now gleamed with interest, Margaret Wilson's unexpected presence temporarily forgotten.

"It's in my case in the house; it can wait a little while can it not?" Seeing the internal struggle that was rapidly being lost she gave a teasing grin. "Dear me, don't say you've been bored out here have you?"

"You try being stuck in one room while it does nothing but snow for days on end," Red grumbled. "And with a dodgy shoulder to boot."

"But I wasn't the one who craved the ranch life, wanted the freedom and the open spaces." Evadne's grin widened as she saw the glower now aimed in her direction. "Missing the nasty old city already are we?"

"No!" Red snapped back unexpectedly harshly. "I don't miss one jot of the stinking, rat infested, claustrophobic hell-hole." The glower continued for a moment longer then shifted into a smirk, "'cept possibly Maria's breakfasts."

Now it was Evadne's turn to glare at the smirking younger woman, eventually recognizing the teasing look in the blue-green eyes. Then she rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Incorrigible."

"Yup!"

"Well at least you won't have found some poor woman to lead astray out here," she teased in her own turn. In surprise, she noticed the first sign of a rare blush start up in the westerner's neck.

"You haven't!" This was unbelievable. Stuck in the middle of nowhere and still it appeared the wolf had fallen on her paws. "How on earth do you do it?" Evadne was surprised to feel a twinge of jealousy, not of Red but of the unknown woman.

"Natural charm," Red grinned cockily.

Shutting the puzzling emotion away for future consideration, Evadne gave the still grinning ruffian a mock glare. "More like the luck of the devil," she riposted, shaking her head in mute disbelief.

"That too," Red shrugged nonchalantly, enjoying the older woman's exasperated reaction. To her surprise Evadne turned and started to leave, "Hey, where you goin'"

"You need to rest and I said I'd help Mrs. Wilson get my room ready."

"You mean you ain't bunking with me? Plenty of room in here for two, you know." That was a blatant lie, there was barely room in the bed for her, but Red had really missed teasing the older woman. In fact, had really missed her, period.

"Why do I put up with it?" The older woman muttered under her breath as she left the small room, closing the door firmly behind her. Walking over the snow covered yard she smiled to herself. Because you enjoy it, of course. Reconsidering the jealously she'd felt earlier she gave a guilty little chuckle. Come on now, be honest with yourself, Evadne Lannis, outrageous as her suggestions are you enjoy getting them.

***

Margaret Wilson didn't know whether to be surprised or irritated by Evadne's partner. From the way the older woman had spoken about her on the trip out, she'd expected someone more… well more impressive. However, Margaret's first impression had been distinctly disappointing: from the sock-clad feet with a hole in one toe through to the tousled, untidy hair; the woman appeared to be a complete slob. The male attire however hadn't been too much of a surprise as the reporter had met her sort more than once before. Even without her mother's gentle hints, Red Wolverton had bull-dyke written all over her.

"So, you've been checkin' up on this archaeologist fella then?" Red drawled, stockinged feet still propped up on the desk. She was supposed to still be resting but she was damned if she was going to speak to anyone other than Evadne while lying on her bed. "Tell me wha' you found then, Mags."

"My name is Margaret or Maggie," she corrected, knowing in her heart that she was going to be called Mags no matter how mush she hated it. That was just the sort of petty victory she would expect the likes of Red Wolverton to enjoy. Taking the chair on the other side of the desk, the chair she'd pointedly not been offered, Margaret stared at the irritating woman for a moment - or more precisely stared at the soles of her grubby sock covered feet.

"Well," Red brought her feet off the desk and leaned forward. "You goin' to spill the beans on what you found or not?"

A small sigh escaped Margaret's lips. "Of course." She watched the investigator lean comfortably forward, elbows on the desk. The blue-green eyes were fixed on her now, the intent gaze a little disconcerting. "Dr. Cathern…"

"That's the archaeologist's name?" Red interrupted. This woman was far too polished for her liking and she had taken an immediate dislike, especially after the supercilious once-over she just been subjected too. Of course, the fact that Evadne really seemed to like her really wasn't helping much either. You're jus' jealous ain't you, little wolf, she admitted privately but even this revelation wasn't going to stop her from getting her own back.

"Yes." A small sigh. "Dr. Cathern was…"

"Was? You know something I don'?" The investigator smirked internally at the annoyed look she received.

"Alright," the reporter gritted her teeth, "Dr. Cathern is a respected archaeologist specializing in the early civilizations of the Middle East. He's made a particular study of cult sites, temples and the like."

Red frowned, "Any particular cults?"

Margaret glared at the annoying woman again but this time there seemed to be some real interest behind the question, not just an interruption for interruption's sake. She shook her head, "Not that I know of." She gave the investigator an acerbic glance, "May I continue?"

Red gave her most smug grin, "Sure."

Another annoyed sigh, then Margaret continued. The quicker she got this over, the quicker she could leave this ill-mannered tatterdemalion's presence. "He was about to leave to join a major archaeological expedition in Persia when suddenly he changes his mind, leaves the prestigious project and instead asks Mr. Criffy to be allowed to excavate the hill."

"What reason did he give?" Red asked, genuinely interested now.

"None, and that surprised his colleagues. Although he'd a reputation for being a little odd personally he'd always been rigorously correct in his professional behavior - this was not the sort of thing any of them expected."

"How odd was he?"

The reporter could see a sparkle in the investigator's eye now. It appeared the initial hostility was over, replaced by a genuine interest in what was being said. She took a moment to mentally review what she'd been told. "Well, he was reputed to be reserved, even secretive - didn't have many friends, even at the University. Some of his colleagues even suggested he took the whole cult issue too seriously, even believed in some of them."

Red frowned, thinking over this new information. "So you think this book that Evadne mentioned had something to do with his change of heart."

Margaret nodded. "I back tracked on what he had been doing prior to the change in mind. I found out he'd been doing some research at the Myskatonic so I went..."

"Your editor just let you gallivant halfway across the country," Red asked in genuine surprise. From what Rose had said the Gazetteer was a provincial little magazine that Margaret was using as a step up. Seeing the slightly guilty look on the young woman's' face she grinned, "Don't tell me you've been bunking off work, Mags?"

"Don't call me Mags," she retorted, "and no, I haven't been 'bunking off', I'm on vacation."

Raised eyebrows indicated the westerner's surprise. "You've been doing this off your own back?" Despite her gut driven dislike she was impressed. Red couldn't help but respect someone with the get-up-and-go to follow up on a hunch on their own time like that.

"Yes, I have," she answered shortly. "As I was saying," she ignored the smug and extremely irritating smirk, "I went to the University. They had a record of the books he'd had access to. The one I gave to Evadne was the only one that seemed out of place. The fact that it appeared to refer to Harry's Hill, or at least somewhere very similar, seemed to confirm that it was the reason for his abrupt change of mind."

Red stood up, moving to the stove and checking the pot of coffee. It was as empty as it had been the last time she checked. She rapped her fingers on the lid a few times, staring out of the small window. Eventually an aggrieved cough broke her train of thought. "Don' let me keep you, Mags," Red drawled without turning around. She heard the younger woman move away and she turned to look, "Hey,"

Margaret turned in the doorway, her irritation plain. "What?"

"Thanks." Red grinned at the confusion that flashed over the reporter's face.

Flat footed by the unexpected acknowledgment, it took a moment before Margaret muttered a startled, "You're welcome," and completed her exit.

Red grinned out of the window then turned to consider what Margaret had told her about the archaeologist. It didn't explain his sudden disappearance but it was more evidence that something distinctly odd was going on and that it was centered on the strange, pyramid-like mound.

***

Red stared up at the rough ceiling, a puzzled frown creasing her brow. Something had woken her but she couldn't work out what it was. She lay in the silent near-darkness a little while longer then realized that the room wasn't quite as dark as it should be. Turning her head, she could now see that the gentle light from the stove's grill had been joined by a line of light coming from under the door. Then a faint scratching noise came from the same direction. As silently as she could, Red pulled back the covers and sat up. Feeling under the pillow, she drew out the revolver she kept there. Sitting there for a few moments more, she listened as the faint scraping continued. Someone's trying to pick the damn lock. Cautiously she stood and moved towards the door, bare feet making no sound on the floor.

She was standing with her back against the wall when a click sounded ominously loud in the stillness of the dark room. There was a moment's pause, then with a faint squeaking the handle turned and the door started to open. As the line of light shining across the floor widened, Red saw the twin barrels of a shotgun poking their nosey way into the room. Placing the revolver carefully on the floor, she took a deep breath and then grabbed the barrel with both hands.

Pulling the shotgun hard into the room she was nearly deafened as both barrels went off, the muzzle flash leaving her temporarily blinded, dancing white lights in front of her eyes. Immediately she rammed the shotgun back, hearing a grunt as it made contact then pulled away again, this time coming away with it in her hands. Eyes recovering from the glare, she made out Patch's figure just as he recovered from being doubled up by the stock rammed into his gut. With the shotgun held as a club, she swung it viciously at his head. He just managed to get an arm in the way, an audible crack accompanied by a short, pained intake of breath, then he turned and ran. Dropping the shotgun and picking up the revolver in its place, Red followed hard on his heels. Only now did she make any noise.

"Come back here you fuckin' bastard! Stand and fight like a man!"

Running out into the snow-covered yard, she found that the combination of full moon and clear sky was making the night unusually light. A quick glance around and she spotted her would be attacker heading for the stables. Ignoring the cold, she followed, revolver ready. One of the large double doors stood open, the light of a lantern making it stand out as a pale yellow oblong. Just as she reached the doorway, the light suddenly flared bright and a horse barreled through the opening. Throwing herself to one side, she just managed to avoid being trampled underfoot but not from painfully jarring her shoulder. Biting her lip against the pain, she turned and fired off a shot at the rapidly disappearing rider and then a second before the darkness claimed him. With her immediate focus out of the way, she now heard the confused voices and saw the figures emerging from both bunkhouse and ranch house. Worse were the sounds of frantic horses and the smell of burning. Scrambling to her feet she ran into the barn, seeing a pile if hay already well aflame, the broken remains of a lantern showing the cause.

"Fire! Fire in the stables!"

Continuing to shout the alarm, she grabbed a pitchfork and started to drag the burning hay out into the yard. Thankfully, it was not far from the entrance and she soon had a good part of it out sizzling in a patch of rapidly melting snow. Then the pitchfork was taken from her grasp.

"Get the horses, I've got this."

She looked into Rick's face about to argue but he cut her short.

"You've no damn boots on, you're going to get your feet burned if you carry on doing this, Red, just get the goddamned horses out will ya!"

She'd forgotten that, her feet were so cold now that she couldn't feel much at all. With an abrupt nod, she moved to where the horses were beginning to panic in earnest. Grabbing three by their halters, she led them out into the yard. Now the others were arriving, swiftly dragging out lumps of burning hay or throwing buckets of snow over the still burning patches inside as she went back for the next set of horses.

By the time all the horses were out, she was glad to see that the fire looked to be under control. With no immediate need for her help there, Red took the time to make sure all the horses were tethered and stayed with them, trying to calm the still spooked creatures. Before the light from the fire died away completely she saw Mr. Wilson striding in her direction, incongruous striped flannel pajamas visible between heavy boots and thick coat.

"What the hell happened, Wolverton? he asked angrily.

"Westerman tried to kill me," her own anger started to rise. "What the fuck happened to the guard he was supposed to be under?"

Wilson frowned then turned back to the group by the barn. "Anyone seen Lefty?"

"Here, Mr. Wilson."

"Get over here now!" he shouted; but, as Lefty drew near, the blood trickling down the young man's face abruptly cooled his anger, "Damnation, boy, what happened?"

"Patch hit me. I'm sorry, Mr. Wilson, I was coming to tell you but then I heard the shots and saw the fire and… well…"

"It's okay, son," he patted the plainly crestfallen youngster on the shoulder, "Get Mrs. Wilson to take a look at that cut." Then he turned back to look at his inconvenient guest, "As to you, Wolverton," he paused then frowned, "Good God, girl, you're in nothing but your nightclothes. Get the hell inside before you freeze to death."

For once Red didn't challenge the 'girl'. With the adrenaline fading, she was now feeling the cold night's bite. Suddenly shivering violently, she nodded and stumbled on numb feet towards the bunkhouse. A figure separated from the group still milling around the stable and headed in her direction, catching her arm as she stumbled again.

"Dear Lord, Red, you're going to catch your death dressed like that."

"I'd noticed," Red muttered through chattering teeth but didn't complain as she was led not to the bunkhouse but toward the ranch house.

"Come on," Evadne commanded, "Mrs. Wilson was getting some hot drinks on the go for everyone so the kitchen should be warm."

Even after entering the warm, well-lit room, Red couldn't stop the shivering. After a concerned tut-tutting, Mrs. Wilson wrapped her in a blanket, sat her down on a large rocker and, with a firm instruction not to get too close to the range, disappeared out of the room. Pulling her legs up to her chest, Red wrapped the blanket around them as she tried to get warm, again exchanging a rueful glance with Lefty who sat with a damp cloth pressed to his head.

Watching the hunched up, trembling figure, Evadne took a warm towel from the range and moved to kneel in front of the younger woman.

"What you..." Red's puzzled question was cut short as a soaking wet and frozen foot was pulled out from under the blanket. "Hey!"

"Leave it be, Red, we need to get these dry and the circulation going again." Her abrupt orders covered Evadne's real concern. Finally able to get a good look at Red's feet she was worried to see that the toes were an unhealthy bloodless yellow and the rest of the pale skin was covered in scratches, cuts and burns.

"Ow!" Red grimaced as the rough toweling started to bring painful feeling back into her feet.

"Only you could get your feet frozen and burnt at the same time," Evadne muttered as she now moved to the already open medicine chest on the kitchen table. As was increasingly usual, her concern was rapidly turning into annoyance at the young woman's lack of regard for her own well-being.

"I'm sorry, Red," Lefty suddenly spoke up from where he sat, cloth still pressed to his head. "The son-of-a-bitch said he wasn't feeling well, tricked me into opening the door."

For a moment she stared hard at the young man until eventually, the guilty slate-grey eyes dropped to stare at the floor. The anger was abruptly deflated when the socialite returned and began applying the stinging iodine.

Ignoring the plaintive grumbles from above, Evadne made sure each burn and cut on the still unhealthily chilled feet was treated. At least the cold had helped minimize the severity of the burns. Soon she had cleaned the assorted small injuries to her satisfaction and turned her attention to Lefty's head. It didn't take long for her to inform the relieved young man that the cut wasn't bad and wouldn't need any stitches. Like all head wounds, it had bled profusely, making it seem worse than it actually was.

After an application of yet more from the trusty iodine bottle he was allowed to leave. As he passed where the investigator still sat huddled and shivering, he stopped and tried once more. "I really am sorry, Red."

Having had a chance to get over the immediate flare of anger, she gave the youngster a considering look. Now recognizing the genuinely contrite expression on his face, she gave him a small reassuring smile, "Don't worry 'bout it, Lefty, you won't be so damn stupid again now will ya?"

At his answering shake of the head, she gestured to the door with a nod of the head, "G'won out of here, I'd guess they still need a hand out there."

Mrs. Wilson soon returned accompanied my Margaret. After giving Red a thoughtful yet slightly amused look, the younger Wilson started to pull the large coffee pots off the range and began to fill a tray with an array of tin mugs. In the mean time, Mrs. Wilson had rummaged around in a box of odds and end before slipping a mismatched pair of much-mended, overlarge and very thick woolly socks onto Red's now thoroughly dried and yellow spotted feet. After a succinct de-brief from Evadne on the state of Lefty's head, Mrs. Wilson nodded her agreement then turned back to Red. "You stay here." Not even waiting for a response to the abrupt order, she briskly seconded Evadne into helping take out the coffee to the hands that were still clearing up the remnants of the fire. Soon all three women had left the house, leaving Red to her solitary sojourn.

It wasn't too long before the shivering thankfully stopped and she finally began to feel warm again. Only now did she begin to consider what had nearly happened. Bastard was goin' to murder me in my bed, she realized in anger and shock. Face to face fights were one thing, having someone try to sneak into her room and blow her away like that was quite another. A smug grin appeared as she remembered the crack as the shotgun had made contact with his arm. Hah, you bastard, didn't get away scot-free though did you. That'll cramp your style for sure.

The sound of the outer door opening made her look up. Evadne came in carrying a wooden tray laden with empty mugs. Placing it on the table, she gave the younger woman a once over then commented, "Looks like you've warmed up enough to have some coffee, I assume you'd like one."

"When do I ever say no," she grinned.

"True."

As Evadne moved to the range, taking a smaller coffee pot from the warming plate, Red's grin was replaced with a frown: the older woman was favoring her bandaged hand, holding it protectively across her body. Standing up, blanket still held tight around her, she padded over on only slightly sore feet to lay her hand over Evadne's as it held the handle.

"Here, I can do that."

Evadne turned to argue, but surprise at the genuine concern in the blue-green eyes stopped her. Her hand was aching badly now. Helping with the initial fire fighting then the carrying of the heavy coffee pots had, it appeared, overtaxed the recovering limb. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Red took the pot and poured two mugs, adding the milk and sugar to Evadne's and gesturing to the table. "Sit."

Placing the mug in front of her now seated friend, Red put hers on the well-scrubbed surface then took the seat opposite. Drawing the blanket up around her ears again, she took the hot mug in both hands and for a moment just breathed in the steam, savoring both aroma and warmth.

They sat in silence for a moment longer before Evadne found herself repeating her apology.

Red looked up then rolled her eyes. "Jeez, Evadne, stop apologizing will you." A small sly grin appeared on her face as she added, "Just remember this the next time you give me the third degree for not resting, 'kay."

Evadne gave a small wan smile in return. "It's not as easy as I thought it would be, not using my hand."

"You've never really hurt anything before have you?" Red asked in a moment's sudden insight before finally taking a mouthful of the hot strong coffee.

A shake of the head, dark bobbed hair swaying slightly before settling once more into the immaculate state that the socialite never seemed to loose. "Not really, not like this. Even during the war, I escaped pretty much unscathed other than a few scrapes and bruises. The other girls always wanted to drive with me, claimed I was lucky." A dark memory rose from where she had tried to hide it all these years. "Unfortunately the luck wasn't transferable."

Surprised by both the snippet of information about the war, information that Evadne like Joe was reluctant to share, and the sadness of the last statement Red asked sympathetically. "What happened?"

Looking up from the mug she'd been studying, Evadne shook her head, forced the memory back behind the locked door it had escaped from.

Hmm, okay, better leave that then. Her conversations with Joe had given her at least an understanding of why Evadne would not want to speak of whatever it was that had happened. Trying to think of some way to change the subject, she suddenly remembered the book that Margaret had found. "Why don't you get that book for me? I can read up on what you found while we thaw out a little more."

"Good idea," Evadne stood quickly, thankful if a little surprised at the unexpected empathy from the younger woman, "Won't be a minute."

True to her word, she soon returned with a small dog-eared book in her hand. Moving to stand at the westerner's shoulder, she laid the book on the table. "There you go."

Red could just make out the badly worn away gold embossed title. "'A sojourn with the people of the Wolf 1720 to 1723: The chronicles of Padre Sebastian Della Croix'," she smirked, "Snappy little title."

Ignoring the sarcastic little comment the socialite continued, "I've marked a couple of pages that give a little background to what was going on." Leaning over, she opened the book at the first place marked by a neatly cut oblong of paper. With a finger, she pointed out a paragraph. "That part first."

'When I regained my senses I found myself surrounded by a group of the savages that had attacked us and defeated my brave comrades. Fearing my life was about to end I began to pray to the Lord for salvation. As I knelt in the dust awaiting the fatal blow I became aware of a muttering amongst the warriors surrounding me then feet standing in front of me. My praying halted and I looked up in to the dark eyes of the savage I expected to smite me dead but instead he indicated I was to stand. A horse was brought and I was instructed, via gestures to mount. I complied, though whether this boded good or ill I did not know though I was sore afeared that I had escaped one fate only to find another far worse.'

When Red lifted her head having finished the paragraph, she flicked forward, "Now this."

It is now six months since I was taken by these people who call themselves skidi. I have learned some of the language, enough to learn that my life was spared as, because of my robe, they believed me to be a 'bardeche' or would be woman. As much as I desire to inform the ignorants of their mistake and of how contrary to God's laws such creatures are I hold my tongue. These unnatural creatures are accorded to have great power and are held with great respect, and that had been given to me.

The investigator shrugged, "Well I suppose the condescending jottings of some prejudiced religious bigot might be interesting to some people but I don't see where it fits in to what's going on here."

"Be patient." Picking the book up, she flicked forward to the last bookmark. "Now read those two paragraphs, I think you will definitely find those relevant."

Red gave the older woman a skeptical glance but nevertheless returned to the book and began to read the indicated sections.

'Before today I did not believe that true, pure evil walked this world, only the poor evil that the weakest of God's servants perpetrated. Today, however, my mind was changed. The priests of the tribe took me to visit one of their most sacred sites though they also seemed dire afraid to be there. Standing atop the great pyramidical mound, I could not but agree. The very soil felt tainted under my feet and I wished nothing more that to flee the vile place. Swift As The Wind, the eldest priest, his face mournful told me the story of the great evil that had preyed on their people, how it had arrived and how it had been imprisoned in that very spot were its evil still tainted the land. Then they performed one of their barbaric ceremonies but, far from the usual unease I felt at such heathen practices, I felt instead a strange tingling sensation run up and down my spine. I watched in amazement as a female form was conjured out of the very air. Even as I crossed myself and tried to avert my eyes from the figure's naked form, I felt my eyes being captured by its own. They were brown, like all the skidi but held a savage fury that I have never seen before. As the ceremony continued I began to realize that all the priests at the ceremony seemed terrified by the figure they were watching, even Swift As The Wind himself seemed ill at ease.

After the ceremony had been completed, the strange woman gave a soundless cry that nevertheless echoed in my mind, seeming to mix hatred with a feeling of terrible loss, and returned whence she had been summoned, whichever pit of Hell that may have been. When I asked what manner of demon it had been, Swift Wind claimed the figure was the twisted spirit of the very earth we stood on, that had been sent mad by the evil it had been forced to do by the stranger that had caused the corruption of the mother's power. Finally, face bleak and in a voice full of direst portent, he warned that if the ceremony was not performed, if the bonds on the spirit where not refreshed, then the twisted essence would break free. In it's tainted mind it would seek revenge for what had been done to it by taking its revenge on any creature it came across, be it human or beast.'

"Well?"

A broad grin spread over the investigator's face, "Evadne Lannis, I could kiss you." A devilish gleam appeared in her eye, "In fact…"

Before the roguish impulse could be followed up upon, Evadne raised an admonishing finger. "Oh no you don't, Red Wolverton. What if any of the Wilson's walked in?"

"Spoil sport!" Red muttered in only slightly feigned annoyance, still grinning at the first new lead in a long time. Then the elation fled. Was she really going to explain the dead cattle as the result of some mystical going on? Theo, of all people, would probably except it, but Mr. Wilson? And if it was this corrupted spirit that had somehow gotten free again, what in hell's name were they supposed to do about it? And was this also related in some way to the archaeologist's disappearance? She started to read the page again, methodically searching for anything that might help.

Evadne straightened up, smiling fondly down as the red-gold head bent over the book one more time. Well that should keep her from getting antsy for a little while at least. Moving back to her seat on the other side of the table, she now took up her cooling coffee and drank it down as she watched the younger woman's thoughts reflected in her face - interest, puzzlement, understanding, disbelief, even some cynical amusement. Smiling slightly, Evadne thought how much she had missed watching Red work through a problem like this. It had been months since the Deceiver had put that wall of distrust between them. Then, after that barrier had been demolished, the younger woman had been coping with her injuries and Evadne had been dealing with her guilt over causing them. Only now did they seem to be slipping back into the old patterns and Evadne sighed a mental sigh of relief that their friendship did indeed appear to have survived that disastrous episode.

Brushing the fallen forelock out of her face for the umpteenth time Red let out a frustrated sigh. "Well other than the fact that it suggests that Swift Wind became a hereditary name for the head priest and that the evil spirit is supposedly female it doesn't actually tell us very much in the way of concrete, useful facts - like what the ceremonies are or how the first Swift Wind defeated it." Lifting her eyes to meet the brown ones calmly watching her, she raised a questioning eyebrow. "So, what do we do now?"

"Well, I'd like to visit this mound." Evadne suggested.

Red shrugged easily, "Sure, if the weathers okay tomorrow we can go take a look. To be honest I'd like to take another dig around and a second pair of eyes might help."

"Fine by me." Evadne agreed, just as the younger woman let out a jaw-cracking yawn, "In the mean time I think we need to get some sleep." Before Red could say anything she continued on to a subject to which she had already given some thought. "As we don't know what Mr. Westerman has in mind I don't think you should go back to your room, not tonight at least."

"What, you suggest I sleep in the bunk room?" Red looked in surprise at the socialite, "Can't see the Wilsons being overly happy with that idea. Or the hands come to that."

"No, not that." Evadne corrected, then somewhat tentatively suggested, "With both Margaret and myself here there isn't another spare bed in the house but there is a couch in my room. I can sleep on that while you have the bed." She wasn't surprised when Red stared at her in amazement. What did surprise her was the sudden nod.

"Okay, but I take the couch, you get the bed. Ah-ah," she cut through Evadne's attempted disagreement, "It's your bed. Anyway, I've told you, I can sleep anywhere."

Tuesday 21st February - Misunderstandings

Evadne woke slowly, nose wrinkling automatically as it was assailed by a distinctly unpleasant aroma. It took a moment before she recognized the smell as a mixture of sweat and smoke. Then the night's events came rushing back and she turned her head to look at the feet alongside the pillow, now sockless and covered in tiny pink spots and various degrees of scratches and cuts all topped off by the iodine's yellow staining. This had been the final compromise over who should have the bed, though Red had had to explain exactly what 'topping and tailing' meant. It was another reminder of how different their upbringing had been. Even if she'd had a sibling, there would have been no need to share a room let alone a bed. Cautiously she sniffed her nightdress, there was a faint odor but it was plain where the worst was coming from. "You stink, Red Wolverton," she grumbled to herself as she turned away from the distracting feet and snuggled under the covers again.

"You ain't no rose yourself, Evadne Lannis."

The mumbled response from down near her feet made the socialite blush, embarrassed at the rudeness of her comment even if it was the truth. Rolling on to her back she lifted herself onto her elbows and peered down to where the top of a red-gold head could just be seen peeping out from the bottom of the coverlet. "I'm sorry, I though you were asleep."

"So, it's okay to insult me in my sleep." Red mock grumbled smiling into the sheets.

Evadne frowned, recognizing the teasing edge now. "I was speaking nothing but the truth, Wolverton, you smell truly unpleasant."

"Why thank you, ma'am." Red didn't quite catch the mumbled response from the older woman as she lay down again, snuggling under the covers once more and accidentally kicking the taller woman in the arm. Another mumble that could have been a 'sorry' came from the top of the bed and Red gave a small rueful smile. She'd been more than a little surprised when Evadne had accepted her suggestion to share the bed - at least once she had explained what she meant by top-and-tail. Heh, reckon she thought it was some sort of bizarre dyke fetish. The slight blush that had followed the explanation had been extremely endearing and had steeled Red to be tolerant about the feet in the face she was likely to get - it took some time to get used to sharing a bed like that without forever kicking your unfortunate bedfellow. Truth be told, Red had only made the suggestion in order to browbeat Evadne into letting her take the couch after all. Even though that plan had badly backfired, she wasn't going to let her friend give up the bed whatever the provocation. However, she'd only realized quite how high her own petard had hoisted her when the socialite had removed the hastily donned pants and jacket. The sleeveless silk nightdress thus revealed showed the other woman's curves to mouth-watering advantage, the gentle light of the oil-lamp giving the pale skin a gentle glow. A knot of desire had started up in the pit of her stomach and in an attempt to physically remove the temptation she'd rolled over to stare in the opposite direction. Stop it, little wolf, she's your friend, she's straight for fuck's sake, stop it, stop it, stop it! Briefly, she'd even considered a trip outside to roll in the snow, but thankfully just the thought was enough to bring the suddenly raging libido under some semblance of control. She'd been within a hairsbreadth of admitting defeat when Evadne had slipped under the covers and turned off the bedside lamp, leaving the westerner trapped by her own deviousness.

Unsurprisingly, she hadn't slept very much last night, far too conscious of the body next to hers. If there was a god then her punishment for the Machiavellian attempts to win the bed argument was being dealt in spades. Nor was her unease helped by the fact that Evadne was an incredibly restless yet determinedly heavy sleeper, constantly turning and moving. As a result, Red had been kicked, prodded and had even, for a short but excruciating period, suffered the torment of a bent leg resting on her pelvis and an arm draped over her legs.

The other woman shifted again, the foot resting by Red's arm once more giving her a gentle prod. Okay, I've had enough of this torture. Unable to follow up on her real desires she instead choose to get her restless bedfellow back in another way. Gently she took hold of the wayward foot then lightly ran a finger over the sole. A slight twitch seemed to answer her question and she began to tickle in earnest, grinning in sheer pleasure at the outraged screech and then completely uncontrolled laughter her onslaught provoked. It was only when the other foot, flailing in desperation caught her hard in the stomach did she stop, her own laughs mixing with wheezing coughs. Before she could fully recover, she found herself pinned to the bed as a flushed and glowering Evadne sat on her stomach. A defensive foray to find out if ribs were as ticklish as feet was soon intercepted and Red allowed both arms be pinned to the bed as well.

The older woman growled down at her now captive tormentor, "You are in soooo much trouble, little wolf!"

Red grinned up, taking the opportunity to say the truth, sure that it wouldn't be taken as such. "You are so beautiful when you're angry."

Evadne rolled her eyes, this wasn't the first time the westerner had tried that little ploy on her. It wasn't going to work this time either. Giving an evil little smile she asked in a pleasant tone, "Now, if I remember correctly the big bad wolf is more than a little ticklish herself." At the sudden shifting, the smile widened into a grin, "Oh no, if you can't take it you shouldn't give it out."

"Bullet hole, remember?" Red reminded, thankful that she had a way out of the situation. The face above her frowned then the smile was back.

"Only the one side then," and with the speed of a striking snake, the older woman was ruthlessly tickling her right side. Red tried to relax, to not succumb to the attack and for a moment it seemed to be working, then a subtle movement of Evadne's body against her stomach made her tense for a completely different reason and all control was lost.

Evadne grinned down in triumph as the westerner finally succumbed to the tickling, squirming as she tried to escape, the pleading words just about comprehensible through the laughter. Then there was a sudden tensing of muscles and the socialite found herself thrown back onto her side of the bed, the positions swiftly reversed.

"Dear Lord, Red, I forget how strong you are at times." She half gasped, half giggled, the sound surprisingly girlish.

Red didn't speak, couldn't speak. The helpless laughter was being rapidly replaced by overwhelming desire. The knot in her stomach, tightening and twisting as she looked down at Evadne's still laughing face.

For a moment, they stayed like that as breathing calmed and laughter stilled. Intense blue-green eyes stared down into laughing brown and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, Red thought she saw a hint of reciprocation. Unable to stop herself, she lowered her head until her lips gently met Evadne's. The older woman stilled but did nothing to stop what was happening and Red pressed a little harder, feeling the soft warmth of her friend's lips and for a moment Red's heart soared as the kiss was returned. Then abruptly Evadne turned her head away.

"No, Red, please." Evadne pleaded in an uncertain shaky voice. "I can't.."

Eyes opening in shock, Red lifted her head slightly, seeing Evadne's turned away in distress. The sole voice of reason in Red's whirling mind admonished, how could you be so stupid, little wolf, letting your defenses down, getting your hopes up - this is why you don't hit on straight women remember! Fuck! "Fuck!" In a blind panic, she scrambled off the bed and rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Evadne stared in shock at the door, not sure exactly what had just happened. She's only been mildly surprised when the younger woman had kissed her - it wasn't the first time Red had snuck an illicit kiss. But she hadn't backed off as expected and Evadne had been surprised to find herself responding to the touch of her lips. Then she'd realized just exactly who she was kissing. She hadn't meant to make her withdrawal so abrupt but she was confused and a little scared and had turned her head away automatically. The shaky plea had been meant as a request for a halt, not the complete rejection it appeared the westerner had taken it for. Still, she was confused beyond words by her reactions. Never had she though of kissing another woman like that, even after meeting Red she'd never really considered the possibility even if she'd often wondered what it was about the younger woman that enabled her to find girlfriends, albeit short lived ones, easier than a dog caught fleas.

She moved slightly shakily to the dressing table, opening the small traveling jewellery box that sat on the top as she silently considered how she felt about the roguishly charming westerner. She picked a small intricate gold broach out of the box, fingers idly tracing the letter 'E' picked out in emeralds. The broach had been the westerner's only physical reminder of her dead mother, though she pointedly used her mother's maiden name rather than her father's surname, and yet it had been given to Evadne, the "lucky 'E'" as Red had self-consciously explained the gesture. It was only as she'd grown to know the younger woman that she'd begun to realize what a truly surprising gesture it had been. Had there been more behind the gift than she, or Red for that matter, had realized?

Her thoughts turned to the strange confusing moment in the cavern like cellar when Red had made the blurted admission to loving Evadne before an abrupt denial then a bewildered 'don't know'. How, despite the hurried denial, it had been the younger woman's gift of love in taking the bullet meant for her, that had given Evadne the control of the stone. For that brief, exhilarating moment it seemed as if she had known everything, could do anything; it had been both awe inspiring and frightening. The feeling had faded as soon as the stone ceased to exist but, every now and then, she would find that something seemed unexpectedly familiar, as if the memories of that knowledge were still there, somewhere, and just needed to be accessed in the right way to become hers again.

Placing the broach carefully back in the velvet-lined box, snapping the lid shut, she sighed gently. It appeared that she had become more than just one of the small group of people that that westerner truly cared for and Evadne wasn't quite sure how she thought about this strange change of events.

Pouring out some water into the bowl, she began to wash off the last remnants of the night's activity. The chill of the water completing her journey into full wakefulness even as she wondered how to broach what had just happened and more particularly how she was going to explain a reaction she herself did not rightly understand.

***

Red clattered into her room in overlarge borrowed boots, slamming the door and leaning back against it. The physical barrier to the rest of the world allowed her mental one to re-emerge. Taking the key from its resting place on the desk, she quickly locked the door. Suddenly exhausted she rested her forehead against the door, hands still on the door handle and key. After a moment, she turned wearily to lean against the door again - only to stare in shock at the hole in the wall opposite. Fuck me! That woulda made one hell of a mess. The wall was a shattering lesson in the damage a shotgun could cause. The overlapping double circles were each about a foot wide and had taken a huge chunk out of the packed earth wall, the centre of each hole a good couple of inches deep. Then the black humor that lurked forever close to the surface surfaced. Pity he didn't succeed, then I woulda never made such a stupid mistake. Pulling off the borrowed footwear, Red moved to the stove. It was nearly out but she was able to coax a flicker of life out of the embers, the simple process distracting her mind for a while from what she'd done.

Once the stove was going again, she took the jug from the bowl, noting that someone had refilled it. Mrs. Wilson looking after me again. For a moment she debated heating some in the small kettle she'd acquired to accompany the coffee pot. It would take the chill off the water and make her morning ablutions less unpleasant. More effective as well, she added, deciding that the wait would probably be worth it. Filling the iron container, she put it onto the stove to heat. Turning her attention to the bed, she brushed the worst of the broken wall and spent shot off the coverlet into her hand before throwing it into the large washed out can that did for a bin under the desk. Only once that had been completed did she slump down onto its surface and let herself contemplate what had so very nearly happened.

What did you think you were doing, little wolf? She's your friend, nothing more, nothing less. Right from the start you've known how she feels about you. What had she said in response to Red's suspicious accusation that she was looking for some sort of plaything, that she "would look for someone cleaner, with better manners, and more importantly male!" Evadne's anger may have prompted the harsh words but the truth of the statement was undeniable and any attempts she might make to deny it were futile.

You just need to get laid, little wolf, that's all it is. You ain't really had a good fuck since Leona, the manipulative little bitch. Lou had been fun but she'd been careful not to really let go - it had taken the edge off, dulling the need but not fully satisfying it. It was an unusual situation for her to find herself in. Red had never had problems finding women; at least not once she'd arrived in Boston and found the right places to go. Even in her small hometown, she seemed to have attracted the curious as a dead dog did flies. Unfortunately, they hadn't been the only ones who had noticed her. Her father's standing in the town had protected her to some extent although it had been a close shave the last time, the time when her father had finally decided that his reputation was worth more than his own flesh and blood. Bastard wasn't even strong enough to carry through on what he wanted. The sanatorium had not been much of an improvement on being dead but at least she'd escaped there and found an acceptance of sorts.

No, getting laid had never been a problem before. Within months of arriving in Boston she had gained a roguish reputation for being a skilled lover without any unfortunate hang-ups about love and commitment or 'any of that shit'. So she had moved from bed to bed, some women she had stayed with for only one night, others had managed to last a couple of weeks. Only Janet had managed to get the closest thing to a long time relationship out of her. Even then, Red had broken that off as well, though Janet had not been unceremoniously removed from her life with only an offhand 'Dear Jane' letter to send her on her way. You'd grown to love her, that's why, you big yellow coward. Red berated herself, tears pricking her eyes. The big bad wolf was too chicken-shit to admit that she'd actually let a woman into her heart and so you persuaded Jan to be your friend only. Couldn't even some up the courage to break it off properly could you, you hard-hearted bastard.

"And then there was Katherine," she announced derisively to the uncaring walls, "all your misdeeds certainly came back to bite you in the ass with that one didn't they, wolf." Katherine had come to the agency to ask for help with someone who was sending her threatening letters - letters she didn't want to take to the police. Red had been struck by her beauty the first time they'd met but it had been a cool controlled icy beauty. However, that night she appeared at the Lily, the effect she'd made had been spectacular.

For a moment, Red had wondered if Katherine had somehow entered the Lily by some bizarre mistake. However, the elegantly clad woman showed no sign that her arrival there had been anything but deliberate. Instead, she slinked - Red had no other way to describe the sinuously graceful, jaw-droopingly sensuous way she moved - up to the end of the bar where the investigator sat, back propped up against the wall. A quick glance in her direction then Katherine coolly asked for some improbably named cocktail.

Lily's face showed her surprise as she prepared and served the requested drink. Handing it over, even she'd not been able to curb her curiosity. "Haven't seen you here before."

"I was looking for Red," she sipped the drink, "and thankfully I have found her."

"If you want to talk about the case then you'd best come to the office tomorrow," Red had replied unenthusiastically. Gone was the chill demeanor of Katherine's office visits - now the younger woman practically exuded allure and it was doing impossible things to Red's libido.

"No, I am here on a purely personal matter," she took another sip, "Although I was hoping you might be able to help with that as well."

Red watched the perfect lips as they touched the glass while her stomach did flip-flops and double somersaults, her heart beat wildly and her groin clenched in hopeful anticipation. Without thinking, she licked suddenly dry lips.

"I think my friend here needs a drink."

Tearing her eyes from the inviting lips, Red found herself pinned by ice blue eyes that showed both amusement and a smoldering desire.

"So what would you like?"

Finally getting her treacherous body under some semblance of control, Red gave a lazy grin. "I will assume you mean to drink?" Slipping off the barstool, she moved to whisper in the younger woman's ear. "Is that what you meant, sweetheart?"

A small knowing smile graced the captivating lips before Red turned to Lily. "The usual." The whisky was placed In front of her. At the first sip, she looked in surprise at the bartender: this wasn't the usual passable if a little rough stuff that was served up, this tasted like it may actually have seen a barrel for more than a couple of weeks. Red grinned and raised the glass once more only to have it deftly removed by an elegantly manicured hand. Turning, she glared at Katherine. No one took her drink like that and got away with it - not even drop-dead gorgeous clients with bodies to die for. The glare seemed to have no effect on the younger woman. Red looked up into amused eyes, an unusual experience in itself - never had she been attracted to a woman taller than her although that was more due to lack of opportunity than any particular prejudice. "My whisky?" she growled, raising an irritated eyebrow.

"My whisky." Katherine contradicted, smiling teasingly.

"You brought it for me." Red replied as anger warred with libido and lost. Blue-green locked with blue. Red felt she was drowning in the azure pools. Just keeping her hands to herself was requiring all her will power. Then something cold and slightly damp touched the hollow at the base of her throat, the shock nearly making her jump out of her suddenly over-sensitive skin.

"You seem a little nervous?" Katherine asked knowingly, removing the glass from where it had been placed and taking a small seductive sip.

Red's brain seemed to have been poll-axed. Gone were the witty innuendo laced phrases, even the no-nonsense cocky charm had deserted her. All thoughts of the rule about not getting involved with clients were also hastily ripped up and thrown to the wind. A sudden unexpected laugh finally broke through her senses. Glancing quickly to her side she saw Lily hastily covering her mouth but the amusement was still there.

"What you laughin' at?"

"Nothing," the attempts at a straight face dissolved as Red's scowl deepened.

"Lily, if you don' stop that right now you are goin' to be sweeping up broken furniture all night."

Lily just grinned again: it was a hollow threat, Lily's impressive right cross ensured that. All it did was to confirm to the amused bartender how disconcerted the young bulldyke was feeling.

For the second time in minutes, Red nearly jumped out of her skin as a hand wrapped gently around her bicep then a voice whispered in her ear. "Thirsty perhaps?"

Finally regaining a semblance of composure, she turned to face the young woman again. "Curious perhaps." She reached out to retrieve her whisky, running the tips off her finger down the back of the smooth hand before they closed around the still cool glass. "Mine, I think," and she knocked back the spirit in one, the fiery burn in her throat matching the one in her loins. Placing the empty glass on the bar behind her, she gave Katherine a cocky grin. "So what's a nice girl like you doin' in a place like this?"

"Looking for a big bad butch like you." A sexy grin was added to a come-hither look it would have taken a blind woman to miss.

Red laughed, "Oh yeah, well that's me alright." This young woman was more than beautiful - she was sassy with it. "So…"

"So?" A fine dark eyebrow rose in a way that Red found incredibly sexy.

"So, you've found me, what now?"

"You're the big bad wolf, what do you normally do?"

Red grinned - this was definitely one hell of a lucky night. "Well, sweetheart, you've had your wine," she nodded at the still nearly full cocktail glass, "Wanna dine?"

There was a knowing smile that tied Red's stomach into knots, then a hand reached up to run through the fine short hair at the nape of the investigator's neck. Red arched into it like a cat, if she'd been one she most certainly would have been purring. Then the hand pulled her head gently forward and insistent lips met her own. Without conscious instruction from her lust-dazed brain, Red reached out, placing her hands on the gentle swell of hips and pulling Katherine closer.

As their bodies touched, even through layers of clothing, Red's desire stepped up to a whole new level. Her tongue demanded entrance and was instantly permitted access. Aggressively, she explored the other woman's mouth, enjoying the small conquest. Her hands moved from the slim waist running down to cup the firm full backside even as she felt a hand move from the small of her back to inveigle its way under vest and shirt to caress the bare skin of her back and side, leaving trails of goose-bumps in its wake. Turning a hundred and eighty degrees, Red pressed Katherine's back against the wall, hands pressed flat against the rough brick surface on either side of the woman's shoulders. Leaving her exploration of the lovely mouth, wanting to taste more, she trailed a line of kisses along the edge of the strong jaw then down the stately neck. At the same time, she felt gentle hands taking advantage of the space now between their bodies. Moving under the shirt, they trailed up her sides, teasingly brushing the sides of her breasts before moving around to knead them gently through the bindings. Not letting up on her ministrations, urged on by the attentions her breasts were receiving, she now insinuated a thigh between slightly parted legs. A small moan from above her head just increased her lust even more and she lifted her leg, making contact with the tall woman's center, elucidating another moan.

"Oh for Christ's sake," an aggrieved grumble came from the all but forgotten Lily, "will you two get a room."

They parted abruptly, Red had all but forgotten they were not alone, Looking over her shoulder, she gave the bar owner an aggrieved glare that just got a smirk in response. Katherine giggled, dropping her head to rest on the investigator's shoulder. Moving her hands to rest on the hips once more, Red whispered, "C'mon, sweetheart, it would appear we ain't appreciated here."

A room and a bed had been swiftly found and by the end of the night, Red had been completely in thrall to her dark haired, elegant young lover. For a whole month, she'd gone around with a stupid grin on her face and a spring in her heel. Even Joe had noticed. He'd tried to warn her about getting too involved, that Katherine Du Bois had a less that pleasant reputation. Red had ignored him, ignored everything but her foolish heart, until that nightmare day when all her illusions, along with her heart, had been smashed to smithereens. Only then, when she'd found out the apparent truth about Katherine's cruel trick had she finally realized that the big bad wolf, roguish stealer of hearts, had fallen head-over-heels in love.

Red sighed wearily, head dropping to rest in her hands. Not only had Katherine broken her heart but the worst part was that it had all been for nothing: she hadn't been driven out by the ensuing allegations and boycott of her agency, the Prophesy had still come to pass even if the Deceiver's plans had ultimately been thwarted. "What a fuckin' mess," she muttered miserably, encompassing in that one phrase Katherine's betrayal, Janet's death, Leona's deceit but most of all her own immense stupidity in ruining her friendship with Evadne, "What a goddamned fuckin' awful mess!"

The rattle of the kettle's lid and the hiss of water boiling over onto the hotplate brought Red out of her melancholic musings. Forcing herself to stand she pulled the now steaming kettle off the stove and poured it into the enamel bowl. Adding some cold water, she stripped off the filthy, smoke stained pajamas and started to wash off the stink and grime from the night's misadventures.

Concluded in part two…