Cap tried to remember the last time he had enjoyed Johnse's company. It was probably that last election day before Johnse had met the first McCoy girl. The two of them were selling moonshine, working towards a good business together. Between Cap's skill with numbers and Johnse's charm, they were one of the most popular sellers of white lightening in the county. But that first McCoy, fair haired Roseanna who followed Johnse like a panting dog for a whole year before she got with child, she had ruined it all.

Cap soon separated from his brother's business and returned to his father's logging company. He found better use there between felling trees and keeping his father's books. He was always more his father's son than Johnse. Perhaps that was also a pitfall between them, their pap preferring Cap to his older brother. They all knew that the logging business would go to him if he should want it someday. Johnse couldn't be trusted with it. As he couldn't be trusted to make smart decisions with women.

"So they heard the news already from Uncle Wall?" Johnse called out, spurring his horse on. "I'm guessin' he went chattering away to mama and pappy."

"Yes." Cap refused to look over at his brother.

Johnse gave a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his chiseled jawline. The boy was too damn handsome for his own good, that's what they had always said about him. Too good looking, too charming and too damn stupid.

"Its not what you think- Nancy and me, we just want to be happy-"

"What about the other one? The McCoy that had your baby? Ain't she Nancy's cousin?"

"Roseanna don't want nothing to do with me." Johnse stared ahead, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he clenched his jaw.

"So you decided to marry another McCoy instead," Cap snarled, shaking his head. "After everything that's happened. Hell! After what happened to Skunk Head..."

Cap looked away, unwilling to finish the sentence. The death of his best friend at the hands of McCoy bounty hunters was still a fresh wound. And then the dishonor they'd done to his body... scalping him so viciously. The rage coursed through his veins till his fingers trembled and he couldn't see straight.

After a moment, Johnse shrugged. "I'm awful sorry about Skunk-"

"C'mon." Cap brought his horse to a gallop. "We'll be late for supper."

The meal was everything Cap had expected and he relished it. Uncle Wall, Lias, Jim Vance and his parents were all judge, jury and executioners to his foolish brother. Especially his mother while she served the table, her tone acidic when speaking about Johnse's new McCoy bride.

Cap had a good idea that their mother had been behind Roseanna's quick disappearance from her son's life. His mother was as ruthless when it came to her sons and their prospective brides. Cap recalled her comments about Cordelia Robertson and took a swig from the glass of sweet milk by his dinner plate.

Levicy had been quick to say Cordelia was well mannered, much more than any McCoy that Johnse had fancied. But she was spoiled. She would only be a burden in a nicely wrapped package to any man in the area. Cap replied that Cordelia Robertson would never look twice at him as a potential beau so Levicy had nothing to fear. That had quieted her and the matter wasn't brought up again.

Now that his face was on widely spread wanted posters, he wouldn't stand a chance with the doctor's daughter. He slumped back into his chair, piercing a forkful of ham as he forced her from his mind. It was a hard fought battle.

He broke out of his musings as Johnse let slip an interesting comment.

"Truth be told, need to get away for a bit. Aint' her, Nancy treats me fine. Its just her goldang brother-" Johnse complained.

"Jefferson McCoy?" Cap interjected. "I heard he killed a mailman the other day."

"Got a goldang reward up too."

Relaxing into his chair, he tapping his fingers on his knees. Perhaps it was time for the McCoys to pay up for what they had done to Skunk Head. And there was Johnse, barking away about how Jefferson was living under his roof with a $100 price on his head. Cap glanced over at Jim Vance, the older man shooting him a subtle wink. With Johnse staying at the Hatfield house for a bit, they might be able to make a little money from the reward for him.

"Well, that Jefferson should be held for more than that mailman's death," Uncle Wall broke in, changing the subject as Levicy tried to wheedle the McCoy girl from her son's life. "Been some sad news in town with the new doctor."

The bite of collard greens turned to dust in Cap's mouth. Taking his small flask of moonshine from his pocket, he took a swig and studied it as he listened. He didn't dare look up.

"Robertson? The one who tried to help when Ellison..." his father's voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence about his beloved little brother.

"The very one. A good man. At least he was."

Levicy strode over to the table. "What do you mean was?"

Uncle Wall sighed. "I attended his funeral just this mornin'. I'm surprised y'all hadn't heard. Doctor Robertson was shot and killed the other day. There are many in town that suspect it was Jefferson that done it. Said they say him runnin' from the saloon."

Cap took another drink and glanced up at the room. His mother's eyes were honed on him. Cap looked away, his heart beating so hard the fabric of his shirt trembled.

"The poor man," Levicy offered in the silent room.

"That pretty daughter too," Jim Vance commented, smirking towards Cap. "All alone in that big house..."

"Best thing for her, I suppose. She never would have thrived 'round these parts." Levicy concluded with a sniff, strutting over to the stove.

His father nodded solemnly. "Now she can return to her people back east."

"I'm afraid it's not so simple. I don't think there is anyone for her to return home to, she's got no one else." Uncle Wall clucked his tongue. "Was only me and the housekeeper at the funeral."

"Well, what is she gonna do?" Lias asked.

Jim Vance coughed into his sleeve to hide a chuckle. "Find some poor fool to marry round these parts, maybe?"

Cap's chair scraped hard across the floor as he leaped to his feet, silencing the room. Levicy's dark brown eyes snapped over to him. She perched a hand on her hip. "Where you goin'?"

"Gotta finish that blockade fence out there," he growled, striding past her.

Sweat dripped down between his shoulder blades and pooled in the hollow of his throat as he sawed a piece of timber. Giving the wood a savage kick, it broke off. He removed his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, huffing at the ground.

That Robertson girl would be the end of him.

He was already ashamed about riding past her house one evening, slowing down and walking his steed through the woods. The windows of the home had been dark expect for one on the second floor where a shadow hovered by the pane, a single candle illuminating the glass. Just that silhouette had left him dizzy.

He had never been so stupid over a woman. In a small way, he supposed he could understand his brother with the McCoy girl. At least the first one.

And now with her father's murder by none other than a McCoy, it was all he could do not to hop on his horse and ride down to her house. Take her away, keep her safe, marry her. He'd do right by her, not like how his brother had treated Roseanna. Find some way to be worthy of her-

"Your big brother and pap are headin' out for some huntin'."

Cap turned towards Jim where he stood on the porch, folding a piece of tobacco under his bottom lip. He dropped the saw and caught his breath. "What say you and me go do a bit of huntin' ourselves, Uncle Jim?"

The old mountain man smiled, his teeth blackened by the chew. "Hopin' you was gonna say that, boy."

***

Cordelia hadn't realized how skilled she'd gotten at lying.

Hannah, Judge Hatfield, and Jim McCoy all told her how good she had been to her father. Even the reverend's eulogy had been mostly about her daughterly devotion to Doctor Robertson. How blessed he had been to have her through it all. And she'd nodded, thanked them, accepted their condolences. They couldn't see how every word of it was like taking a bullet.

Worse than the guilt was her anger. She seethed on the inside though outside she was cool and composed. She was still fooling them all.

"Miss Cordelia?" Hannah broke through her thoughts as she entered the front parlor.

Cordelia turned from the hearth, her father's armchair creaking. "Yes, Hannah?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

Shaking her head, Cordelia rose. She was still in her black dress from the funeral. "I'm certain. Thank you though."

Hannah studied her, her forehead riddled with wrinkles. "I'm worried about you-"

"I will be fine. I think I need to be alone for a little while." She forced a half smile, her temples throbbing.

Giving a slow nod, Hannah tugged her shawl up around her slim shoulders. "Very well. I'll be here first thing in the morning."

Cordelia thanked her again as she saw her to foyer, desperate to be alone. The metallic snap of the door bolt echoed through the empty house. Collapsing on the bottom step of the stairs, Cordelia untied her boots and peeled off her stockings. She wandered mindlessly back into the parlor and unpinned her curls, but her headache didn't subside. Firelight bounced off her mother's painting over the hearth.

She had been thirteen years old when her mother had died. It had been from a fever after giving birth to a stillborn baby, a brother. Her father had wept bitterly in his study while Cordelia had sat outside the locked door. She'd cried at her mother's funeral, but not again. Not when her father was such a living wreck. That's how it had been in their home from then on.

Cordelia had quickly developed a stiff upper lip. It was she who had forst contacted their cousin about a job down south. Apologized to patients when he was indisposed. Covered the tracks of his shame. Now that he was gone, she wondered what the use was in enduring any longer.

Tucking her legs up under her skirts, she pressed her face into the musty wing of the chair. When the tears came, she tried to tell herself that they weren't from self pity. Paper crinkled in her pocket. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and pulled out the sheet. It was Cap's wanted poster, his expression cold and detached. She ran her fingers over it. Perhaps he would have understood. He would have seen right through her as he had from the start.

A log collapsed in the hearth. The wind picked up and whipped the trees, the oak banging against the side of the house. Then everything quieted.

Horse hooves sounded in the night.

Cordelia sunk into her seat and shut her eyes. It didn't matter anymore if it was more men looking for money from her father or robbers taking advantage of a lone female in a rich house. She was too tired to fight.

The horse neighed. Footsteps paced outside as though someone debated whether they should knock at the door or not. They would start up the steps then retreat then try again. The floorboards burned cold into her bare feet as she walked into the foyer. She didn't even bother to grab her father's pistol from the chest as she opened the door. Squinting out into the misty night, the shadows hid the rider and horse from view.

"Well? What do you want?" she asked tonelessly.

The figure snatched the hat from his head as he mounted the steps.

"Miss Robertson." Cap Hatfield halted a few feet from her, his good eye bleary as he took in her. The biting scent of strong moonshine drifted off him. "I come to offer my condolences."

"Drunk."

" "scuse me-"

"You came drunk to offer condolences." Despite herself, she suppressed a soggy smile. "Am I that intimidating that you needed to empty a bottle before knocking at my door?"

He broke eye contact. "Well, yes."

Silence fell between them, broken only by the owls calling to each other in the dark.

"You've ridden all this way, you might as well come in."

"Thank you, Miss Robertson."

"Cordelia," she replied softly as he moved past her.

He stopped in front of her where she stood with her back to the door. His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he studied her damp, reddened cheeks. "Cordelia."

She forced herself breath and stepped towards the parlor. Her raw nerves flared alive with his presence.

"I suppose you heard."

"My uncle told us."

"You warned me, remember?"

"There was nothing you could've done." His husky voice dropped low. Floorboards creaked under his boots as he moved into the room. "Don't blame yourself."

"I don't. Not for his death perhaps. But for how things were left between us. You know." Cordelia heaved a heavy breath as she turned towards him. "You've always known. Even after our first meeting. How?"

He licked his bottom lip and glanced over her shoulder. "Sometimes people recognize the same things in other folks. You and me... we've got a lot in common."

She gave a weak grin. "We do?"

"Well, not on the outside, I suppose." His strange eyes pulsed over her, heat thrumming under her skin as though they were his calloused fingertips grazing her. He cleared his throat. "I wanted to make sure you were alright out here all by yourself."

"I have a gun."

"Can you shoot it?"

She strode towards the chest where she kept the pistol. "Do you think I'd know how?"

"I guess not," he replied with a soft chuckle.

She handed it over and wrapped her arms around her torso. Inspecting it, he shook his head and a strand of blond hair fell across his forehead. The pistol thudded into the chest as he dropped it back into the drawer.

"I don't think you'd be able to even if you could. It's rusted hard. Just take this one."

He pulled his own gun from under the fold of his coat and held the handle out to her. He lifted his eyebrows and offered it again when she glanced skeptically up at him.

"I can't take your weapon."

"Why not?"

"You might need it."

"You might too."

She shook her head and dug into her pocket, pulling out the wanted poster. "You might need it more."

He grinned, taking it from her. "What are you doin' with this? Planning on turnin' me in to the McCoys?"

"It doesn't matter. The point is you have more use for your gun."

"The only use I'd like this pistol to have right now is to protect you. Since it wouldn't be proper for me to stay here and do just that, you're gonna to have to learn yourself."

Taking her hand, he led her out onto the porch and set his hat on the railing. He ambled back to her, readying the weapon.

"Now what?" she asked as he handed her the gun.

"Pull back the hammer, aim and shoot."

She lifted her arm and tried to focus the end of the muzzle on the hat. Gently, he propped up her elbow.

"Keep your eye on your target," he directed, his warm chest rising with a breath and pressing into her shoulder.

She fired the gun without noticing where the bullet went and stepped back, holding the gun out to him. "Thank you, but I don't know if I can accept this."

Snorting, he shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Cordelia."

"Why wouldn't it be proper?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Why wouldn't it proper for you to stay here? Why not?" Her heart pounded in her ears as she blurted the question.

His jaw went slack. "What are you suggesting?"

"Stay here tonight. With me."