Emmeline settled into the saddle and let herself roll with a comfortable twenty mile an hour gallop. She followed a well-worn trail through low grasslands and up into treed foothills, losing the day's light as the sun settled ahead of her. Sweat beneath her arms and down her back made her shirt stick, and she splashed a bit of water on her face before taking a swallow.

"We'll stop up there, Rain, you can have some water and one of those biscuits you love." She patted the warm neck of the animal and guided it into the small clearing below the rocky outcrop. After a quick probe of the surroundings she unsaddled Rain and made a little campfire. Night came quickly and through the surrounding trees she glimpsed only black sky.

Both fed and sated, Emmeline lay back on her saddle, arms behind her head, and tried to pick out stars. The day's sweat began to cool on her skin and she wished there had been a stream to wash in. As she watched the sky fill, she pretended she could see her parents, holding one another and smiling down on her. The thought made her wistful, and she frowned at the feeling of wet eyes.

At thirty-three, she realized she had spent most of her adult life searching for the men who had stolen her family life and that she had foregone any real life of her own. She thought of the Eastman family and their daughter Connie. She wondered what they thought of the bank drafts she sent. Were they appreciated or did it bother them, knowing the source.

That part of her reputation, reported in various small town papers, was certainly not the description one might wish for someone they raised as their own. Hunting down wanted men wasn't her goal, but it was a source of income, and it led to the company her quarry likely ran with.

 She placed a few more small logs on the fire against the night chill and settled back down to sleep.

*****

The driver's foot instinctively went to the brake as the stage rounded the blind corner, a procedure oft repeated after years of travelling the same route. This time, however, things changed. In the middle of the rocky trail sat three horsemen with rifles trained on the stage.

Without hesitation, he slapped the reigns, shouting at his team and braced as they picked up their gallop. At the same time, the side by side barrels of the coach gun came up in the hands of the shotgun rider, firing at the outlaws. The stage leaned to one side finishing the turn, its carriage bobbing on the leather thorough brace. Inside the coach, five passengers suddenly became more intimate as they slammed to one side and then the other.

More shots rang out and the three outlaws scattered as the stage flew past, then took up angry pursuit. The road straightened out as it sloped down toward a grassy valley, and the driver kept slapping the reigns and hurling small stones at the horse's behind, all the while screaming for speed.

Behind and off to the side, the riders cursed their luck in the cloud of choking dust while firing wildly at the stage. Finally they stopped. Frustrated over their failure. Back down the trail, one cowboy sat slumped over the horn, an arm dangling limply.

"Well hell, Orly, what did you do?" The rider grabbed the reign and pulled the horse around. Orly slid off the horse and crashed to the ground.

"Aw damn. Looks like Orly caught that coach gun," said the other rider.

"Is he dead?"

"Looks it to me, Nestor. Man don't spill that much blood and see another sunrise."

"Why didn't they just stop?" Nestor threw down the reigns and swore aloud.

"Guess we better get him back to the undertaker."

"And answer a lot of questions? Orly's got paper, so just leave 'im,won't make no matter nohow. Vultures'll get him. Drop the tack and turn his horse loose."

"He was a friend, Nestor."

"Then you stay with him." Nestor turned his horse and kicked it into a gallop.

*****

Morning found Emmeline squatting by the small fire cooking some bacon and boiling a tin of coffee. She had slept well, and the early dampness had disappeared quickly as the sun nosed over the hills in the east. Rain had been fed and watered, and she sat cross-legged nibbling at the hot bacon, shifting it from finger to finger.

According to directions she'd received from the sheriff, the next town to the south was Treerock and a possible location for some of the country's bad men. She finished the bacon and poured an equally hot tin of coffee, strolling out of the little clearing and sweeping the vista ahead with her sharp eyes.

"What do you think, Rain, ready to get movin'?" The look was almost humanly skeptical, as any choice was nullified by the fact she was setting the blanket on her back and then the saddle. "Let luck be with us today." She murmured a familiar phrase, one that had become automatic in spite of never producing, and climbed onto the saddle.

She appeared small and alone, and the overwhelming sense of the futility of her actions was emphasized by the wide open area and the cloudless blue sky. Studying the books the Eastman's kept in their house, learning to shoot, and developing a nearly physical bond with her weapon gave Emmeline the strength she believed she would need for her mission. The disappointments she experienced whenever she felt near her prey had not been lessened by that strength.

Turning away from the hills, she led Rain down to the rough, worn ground of the stagecoach trail, deciding to follow it to her destination. Pausing on occasion to let Rain graze and wet her own lips, she squinted at the road ahead. The shimmering of the heated landscape drew her attention to the small mound, and she urged Rain ahead at a cantor.

The body had been wrapped in the saddle blanket with the saddle placed on top. Emmeline pulled it all apart and saw the slack face of one of the men in the saloon the previous day. His shirt was covered in dried, rust-coloured blood – a lot of blood, and she emptied his pockets, took his gun belt and wrapped him back the way he was. Wagon tracks were evident, as well as other horses, leading her to believe this had been a failed holdup.

"Nothing more for us here, Rain. Maybe when we get to Treerock we'll find out what happened."

*****

Treerock, ambiguously named, as the only visible trees were a silhouette on the rolling hills beyond the town. Emmeline took a slow trot through the town centre, getting a general feel for the layout. She tied Rain to the post outside the sheriff's office and took a moment to survey the town once more before entering without a knock.

"Howdy, ma'am, how can—" The sight of the large gun slung low and tied down had the sheriff rising slowly out of his chair and moving around to the front of his desk. "Can I help you?" His hand rested nervously on the butt of his pistol.

"Wondered if you'd seen this man. "She handed him the folded piece of paper and waited while he fumbled it open and stared at the face.

"Who is he?"

"Have you seen him, Sheriff?"

"Don't know. Maybe . . . can't say for sure. Who is he?"

"Somebody I want to find." She took the picture back. "You said maybe. That mean maybe you have?"

Feeling a little more comfortable, he moved back to his chair and sat. "Means maybe. Why you want him—" the words froze and he pointed. "You're that woman. The bounty hunter."

"That's not why I want him, Sheriff . . .?"

"Toby, Edward Toby."

"Emmeline Whitlock, Sheriff Toby." She stuck out a hand and he tentatively reached across his desk and shook it, eyes widening at the grip.

"Why, uh, why do you want him?"

"He killed my folks when I was just a sapling." She watched his face and held up her hand. "He was about my age now so, yeah, he'll be an old man, but not too old to answer."

"Don't think I want to know anymore, ma'am." He felt his insides sink, imagining what the woman's determination might wreak.

"Okay. The hotel have baths?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. Ask for Jessica, she runs that part of the hotel." His face coloured as she smiled.

"Oh, by the way. About six miles back I came across a body somebody kinda half buried. These were his. I thought you might know if there's a poster on him. Looked like it might have been—"

"The stagecoach. Three fellas tried a holdup. Yeah, driver told us all about it. Haven't had a chance yet to pick up the body. I'll let you know after I get him."

"Well they're down to two now. He was in the saloon the other day in Ebbotville with one called Nestor."

"Nestor . . . well, thanks, I can get in touch . . ." His voice trailed off and he wiped his chin.

She touched her hat and left the office, walking Rain further down the street to the hotel.