Sam's revelations about 'how things were around there' told Emmeline she was close – closer than she'd ever been to her goal. The situation, however, was not great. If Sam's tale was true, the odds were stacked against her – big time. She needed to learn more and form a plan.

The knock on her room door shattered her thoughts, and she went to stand beside it, gun in hand.

"Who is it?"

"Jessica. Can we talk?"

Emmeline opened the door carefully, checking the hall both ways before stepping back and letting her in.

"You're awfully careful."

"It's stood me well. What do you want?"

"It's about that picture you showed me."

"You know him, don't you? I figured as much."

"You did? How—"

"Doesn't matter. What do you want to talk about?"

"Him – Rafe Taggart. I do know him . . . and I wish I didn't."

Jessica sat on the bed while Emmeline leaned on the dresser, thumbs hooked in her belt, listening closely. What she heard had her setting her jaw to the point of hurting. Rafe Taggart held the town in a grip of terror simply by one or two demonstrations of power, wielded by his hired gunmen.

When Jessica finished, Emmeline shared her reason for wanting to find him, listening patiently to the startled objections, but insisting it was going to happen.

"He's got too many men. You wouldn't have a chance."

"How about the sheriff, he not done anything?"

"Toby is just a figurehead. He's a good man, but his best efforts are locking up town drunks and breaking up arguments among town folks." Jessica stood and moved toward the door. "I'm sorry about letting him know but," she shrugged apologetically, "I didn't know who you were . . ."

"Would it have made a difference?"

"Likely not . . . but I won't be sayin' any more to him."

"Does he come to town?"

"Once or twice a month. Mostly his men hang around to keep folks in line. I can point them out to you."

Emmeline opened the door. "I appreciate that, Jessica. Just don't put yourself in their sights." She took some money from her pocket. "For another night."

"It's on the house, Emm."

She closed the door and leaned against it. Was she really finished looking? Is this where it all ends? How will it end? The questions drifted in her mind as she crossed the room and lay down on the bed.

*****

"Get the doctor! Get the doctor! It's Mister Gore!" Jimmy burst into the hotel, face red, arms waving.

"Whoa, hang on there, Jimmy. What's happened?"

"Mister Gore, he fell against the forge and he's burned bad!" He looked about and ran back outside, yelling. "Doc Webster!"

"There he is now." The desk clerk had followed Jimmy out and was hailing the doctor who was just leaving the bank.

"Doc, quick! It's Mister Gore."

A small group had formed, following the three men as they jogged toward the livery. Jimmy dashed ahead, skidding into the shop and dropping down beside his employer.

"Move, Jimmy, let the Doc do his work."

"Hand me that cloth," Doc was cutting away the shirt around the burn. He made sure he didn't pull the material off the burned skin and then soaked the area with aloe from his bag. "Help me get him inside, and get me some soap and clean water"

"What can you do?" Jimmy was wringing his hands.

"What's the matter with you, boy? What really happened?"

"I left the pitchfork lyin' on the floor and he tripped on it. Fell right onto the edge of forge. He had it all fired up for some shoe work he was gonna teach me."

A woman from the crowd that had gathered stepped forward with the requested pan of water and a bar of soap, following them inside. After easing the material off the burn, Doc carefully cleaned the skin, reapplied some aloe and wrapped the injury in a loose bandage.

"'Bout all I can do for him. Get him a good shot of whiskey and let him rest and make sure that burn stays clean. I'll come by this evening and change the bandage."

"Thanks, Doc. I- I don't know what—"

"Accidents happen, Jimmy. You better check that the forge is looked after, don't want a fire accident too."

The Doc had returned as promised, changed the bandage and declared the injury good as could be expected. Jimmy sat beside his boss, helping him eat some soup, all the while apologizing and making him angry.

"Tarnation, Jimmy. Hold your fuss. It was an accident, boy. Ain't the first time I bin burned." He winced as he shifted position. "But it's the first time I haven't been able to do business."

"I can look after things 'til you're able."

"Jim, you're a good man, but you are no blacksmith. I need somebody trained so I'm gonna ask a favour of you."

"Anything, Mr. Gore."

"Harold. Geez, boy, how long you bin working for me now? My name's Harold, okay?"

The ghost of a smile didn't go unnoticed, and Harold grunted in pain as he shifted again. "I need you to get over to Treerock and see the livery owner there. Sam Drury, he's an in-law, and he's got two nephews that he trained, workin' for him. Tell him what happened and I need one of his boys to help here 'til I'm up again. Tell him I'll straighten out any money afterwords."

"Will he do that?

"Sam's good folk, and he's family. If I tell my sister he didn't help me his life will be a misery." Harold smiled grimly.

"What about you while I'm gone, how will—"

"Where do you think that soup came from you were feedin' me? There's some widows in this town always slow walkin' their horses, just lookin. 'for helpless men. Don't worry about me gettin' along." Harold chuckled, regretting the movement of the bandage and the pain that caused.

*****

Emmeline stood beside the stall, feeding Rain a biscuit and rubbing her neck.

"Never saw a horse that liked crackers before."

She turned and smiled at the young man standing just behind her. "This girl does a lot of things that'd surprise you, don't you, Rain." She laughed at the nuzzle she received. "You work here?"

"It's my uncle's place. Me an my brother do the smithy work."

"What can you tell me about a man named Taggart?"

"He can't tell you nothin'." Sam arrived, his expression stern. "Go and help Jody unload supplies." Sam stood staring at Emmeline as he spoke.

"It was an innocent question."

"Not around here it wasn't. What do you have to do with Taggart anyway?"

She leaned on the stall gate and considered Sam's reaction. Jessica wasn't making up stories, these people were frightened. Before she could respond a rider pulled up outside and strode quickly into the livery.

"Mister Drury?" He looked at Emmeline and did a double take. "Miss Whitlock?"

She blinked at the memory of the shirtless man in Ebbotville. "Jimmy?" She matched his puzzled smile of recognition

"Can I help you, mister?" Sam broke in, annoyed at the confusion.

Jimmy sputtered a moment, then concentrated on his purpose. "Uh- uh- yeah. Yes, sir. Harold Gore sent me to see about borrowin' one of your nephews for a spell."

They followed Sam into his kitchen at the back of the livery where Jimmy explained what happened, all the while sneaking glances at Emmeline. Sam told him how long his nephew could be away, and what he felt a fair price would be – even for family. The pot of coffee was almost empty by the time everything was sorted out and the couple got up to leave.

"Jody can go with you. Carl is still apprenticin'. Tell Harold I'm right sorry 'bout his accident. But it'll have to wait 'til mornin', he's got work needs finishin'. I'll take care of your horse."

"I will, and thank you, Sam- sir- Mister Drury."

"You need to get out more, son." Sam nodded at the pair and went back out to the stalls.

"What did that mean?" He asked as they left the small kitchen and headed outside.

"I think he means you aren't a boy, you're a man, and you need to be a little less . . . bashful."

"I ain't bashful." His face said otherwise. "What are you doin' here anyway? Still lookin' for the fella in that picture?"

"Changing the subject doesn't hide those red cheeks." She laughed and gave his arm a light punch. "C'mon, I'll see you get a room for the night."