Part 1:

Angel pulled her coat tighter as she walked down the deserted streets of Sweetcreek. It was unusually cool, even for October. It didn’t normally get cold until mid-November. It was dark already. Luke was walking behind her. He was sort of like a bodyguard for the girls at Miss Beckie’s. He and Miss Beckie were the closest thing Angel had to friends. She didn’t let anyone get too close. She’d been hurt before, badly, and she closed herself off. At least that was what Luke and Beckie seemed to think.

"Well, hello again, Angel," Chris said, stretching out the name as he stepped out of the shadows. Angel gasped and stepped back, fist to her mouth. Luke immediately stepped in front of her. "I’m not going to hurt her," Chris said hastily. "I just need to talk to you," he added, looking at Angel as she peered out from behind Luke.

"All right," she said, taking a hesitant step toward him.

Chris glanced nervously at Luke, then reached for Angel’s arm. "Come with me, I have a lot to say to you."

"What is this about? Who sent you?" she said, jerking out of his grasp.

"I’m here on another matter all together. They didn’t send me looking for you. Now will you please come with me, somewhere less public than the middle of the street."

"All right, I’ll talk to you in private, but on my own terms. You come with us." Angel turned and walked back the way she had come, heading for Miss Beckie’s. Luke grunted at Chris then followed her, leaving Chris to bring up the rear.

Chris looked around him as they walked in the door, taking in the lush surroundings. Women lounged around the parlor in various states of undress. Beautiful women. He caught many admiring glances and heard the whispers as he followed Angel in and up the stairs, Luke pausing at the bottom of the staircase.

 

"Well, Mr. Mayor, does your wife know where you are this evening?" Beckie asked, walking up behind him and smoothing her hands over his shoulders.

"What do you think?"

"You know, if Sarah ever finds out, it will probably kill her."

"She won’t find out," he said, cutting off any response with a kiss.

 

The doors of the Gold Bar saloon swung open. Mrs. Goldberg, the owner’s wife, looked up and gasped in shock.

"Whiskey," the man demanded, peering out at her from under the brim of his hat.

"Yes sir," Heather said softly, wishing Bill would come back in.

Justin watched her, remembering the time . . . but that was long ago. It didn’t matter anymore. They were different people now. She was an upright, honest, happily married woman. He was the "Curly Kid," one of the most wanted outlaws in the west, except for this small town. Here, he was more of a hero.

 

"Katie, help me clear these dishes please, and put this in the oven to stay warm for your Pa. He’s going to be late today. There was a council meeting and you know he always has to stay late," Sarah Chasez said, handing her pretty daughter a napkin-wrapped plate.

"Yes Ma," Katie said dutifully, doing as her mother asked.

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