He cried out.

"Sir, please wake up! Wake up!"

Someone was shaking him and he cut the ropes of his nightmare with some difficulties. He tried to use his hand to wipe away some of the bad memories from his eyes, but something prevented him. All of a sudden he realized where he was. He was chained to a tree, headed for a gallows pole. He opened his eyes finding himself face to face with a woman looking at him, her brown gaze tinged with concern. He judged she was nearly his age, about thirty, with long black hair, flowing on her back.

"Are you all right, Sir? You were screaming." She asked in a quiet deep voice that he found uncommon in such a small woman.

"I was dreaming, a nightmare, but why would you care?" he asked coldly. Her expression turned to anger as she answered.

"Because your shouts frightened my daughter and you upset her."

The man's blue eyes softened.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to disturb anyone, but there's not much I can do about it. How old is she?"

"She's eight."

"You're lucky. Please tell her that there's nothing to worry. I'm fine."

The woman watched him doubtfully and asked:

"Is there something that I can do for you?"

"You'd better leave me alone. Your kindness would not be appreciated, but I thank you for caring."

She stood up holding his gaze, then walked away in the shadows of the night. She reappeared a minute later with a mug and an earthenware jug. She kneeled next to him, then she poured some water, approaching the mug to his dried lips, helping him to drink slowly.

"What the hell are you doing? Don't you know he's a dangerous criminal?" an angry voice yelled behind her back. Startled, the woman nearly let go the mug.

"Giving him something to drink." she replied turning her head to look at the man wearing a marshal's badge.

"He doesn't deserve your care. You ought not get so close to him."

"Since he's shackled and unable even to raise a hand, I suppose I'm quite safe and he's a God's creature. Even the grass deserves water."

At these words, the prisoner gave a short laugh.

"Shut up you bastard." growled the marshal.

"And what if I don't? Will you kill me? You must keep me alive and well if you want to collect the full bounty." the other man said with heavy irony.

"The poster just says alive." the marshal replied getting closer. He kicked the shackled man in the ribs, with an evil grimace on his face. The man gasped and so did the woman in front of him. She stood up, facing the marshal. She was half the size of the man, but she didn't look less resolute.

"Do you feel more like a man, now? Stronger or braver? Really a great feat beating someone who's harmless. You're a true hero." she said boldly, before kneeling down once again. She gently touched where the prisoner had been kicked and he flinched. She felt the man's gaze on her but she continued her examination.

"It will hurt, but I don't think there's anything broken." she said in an expert tone, then she grabbed the mug she had put down, helping the man drink. As he had emptied it, she asked:

"Better?"

"Yes, thank you very much." he answered. She nodded, hauling the mug and the jug, then stood up.

"I wish to you both gentlemen a sound sleep." she said and without waiting for a reply, she headed back to her cart. The marshal's gaze followed her until she vanished, then fixed on the man on the ground.

"You must not disturb honest people deserving their sleep."

A dark cloud descended on the prisoner's eyes.

"I really wish I could, but this is something I cannot control. I'm afraid you'll have to bear my shouts for some days more. When I'll be hanged, I hope the nightmares stop."

The marshal didn't answer, but he shot a wary look at the other man, before returning to his place near the campfire.

At the first lights of day, Rachel saw the group leaving the camp. One of the two deputies chained the prisoner's wrists in front of him, then pushed him roughly toward a gray horse. When the prisoner climbed deftly on the saddle, the deputy shackled his ankles under the animal's belly. During the process the man stood stock-still, his hands on the pommel, not moving even when his horse was led near the marshal to whom the reins were handed over. The marshal gave a signal and the small group rode away.

The caravan traveled slowly and it was mid-afternoon when it reached the place of the assault. The first sign were the vultures, flying in slow circles. Getting closer they saw scattered bodies of men and horses, lots of blood on them and on the ground. After some consultation a small group went scouting round and Rachel was part of it. Instinctively she looked for the gray horse and the prisoner. She found both near the dead body of the marshal. The gray horse was dead and the man was still chained with his left leg under it, but he was still breathing, despite the blood staining the deer jacket near the breastbone.

"This one is alive, but we need to take him away from under the horse." she said turning her gaze in search of someone and she recognized the deputy who had chained the prisoner. The young man had been shot several times and laid dead, a stunned look on his eyes that had remained open staring at the sky and his own death. She crossed herself and closed his eyes, before looking for the key of the manacles that she found next to him. She returned quickly to the prisoner unchaining him, then she asked for the help of some of the men, to remove him from under the horse.

"Why do you bother to save him?" Jonathan asked. "They said they were going to have him hanged so it's probably better for him dying now, instead of by the rope."

"Because he's still breathing and we're not sure if they told the truth. Now shut up and help me."

The man shuddered and gestured to a friend to come closer. While the newcomer lifted the saddle by the pommel. Jonathan and Rachel pulled the man away, then carefully eased him onto his back. Rachel undid the jacket under which he wore an Indian necklace and a white shirt.

"He's the only one they didn't depredate." Jonathan said.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked going on checking the wound.

"Didn't you notice that he's the only one dressed, with his boots on? They probably found it too hard to strip a man shackled or rather, they weren't interested in Indian clothes."

Rachel realized that her friend was right. The man she was taking care of, wore Indian deer clothes and soft boots, but she remembered his blue eyes and she was quite sure he was a white man, despite his deep tan.

"The bullet is still in the wound, but luckily it doesn't seem to have hit his heart. I can remove it, but I must return to my wagon. Arrange something to bring him back to the camp." she said finally. Shaking his head, Jonathan obliged, arranging a sort of stretcher. Rachel supervised when they hauled the wounded man and brought him back to the carts waiting. She instructed them to stop near her wagon and build a fire.

"Who's this man?" her daughter asked "Is he the one who was shouting last night? What happened to him?"

"How many questions, Emily. You're right, he's the man you remember and he's been shot, but I hope I can save him. Please bring me the bottle of whiskey and the Laudanum." While the child obliged Rachel asked Jonathan to help strip the wounded man and he did so with unexpected care. Emily returned with the liqueur that her mother used to clean the wound. The man winced and Rachel gestured to Jonathan to stay close for helping to keep him still, if he'd wake up. Rachel warmed a forceps then put it into the hole. Moving very carefully she found the bullet and removed it. She looked at the unconscious man as he shivered. When he was quiet again, she cleaned the surroundings with a cloth damped with the whiskey, before making a knife red-hot in the fire. When the blade was ready, she used it onto the wound to close it.

The man woke up, breathing hard. His haunted eyes full of pain looked at her without signs of recognition. Then, he struggled to rise but Jonathan kept him down.

"Hush! Hush! Everything is all right. Stay calm." Rachel said taking his face into her hands. "Listen to me, everything's all right. Drink this." she continued putting the bottle of Laudanum near his lips. He drank, then struggled to say something, but his eyes lost light and he fell unconscious again. Rachel finished her job bandaging the wound with clean cotton stripes. She asked the men to put him inside the wagon. When the wounded was on place, she put a pillow under his head, took away his boots, finally covering him with a quilt. As she came out, Jonathan said:

"He can't stay with you. People will talk."

"He's wounded and unconscious. At present he's unable to make any attempt towards my virtue, so give up worrying. If and when he'll be better, we can argue about his accommodation. Until then, he's going to stay here."

"I'm note sure who'll win in a stubbornness contest between you and my old mule. It's tough, but I think you could give it a bad time." Jonathan said grinning. Rachel smiled in response, before going inside to check her patient.

The following days the caravan continued to travel westward, while the stranger laid unconscious in Rachel's wagon. He had a fever and Rachel often changed place with Emily to check him, dampening his lips, or just to reassure herself that he was still breathing. Every now and then he moaned and Emily looked at him in a concerned way.

"I think he's still having bad dreams." the child said at one point "Is there something we can do about this?"

"Against bad dreams? I'm afraid nobody has already discovered a cure."

"But when I have bad dreams you hug me and everything soon gets better. Don't you think this will work for him, too?"

Smiling at the thought, Rachel replied:

"I'm afraid it won't. This method seems to work better on children. Grown-ups are more complicated."

Emily seemed to consider her mother's reply, then went inside the wagon. It was dark and Rachel was unable to see what she was doing, but when she returned outside, there was a smile on her face and, curiously, the man's moans ended.

During the afternoon, Rachel went inside, finding her daughter's doll under the quilt near the sleeping man. Her lips curled watching the difference between the toy and the strong features of his face. She put a wrist on his forehead, he still had fever, but his temperature was decreasing.

"You're strong, I know, don't disappoint me now." she whispered to him then, without thinking she kissed his cheek, before reaching her daughter, humming to herself.

The following day, while Rachel was checking her patient, as if he had felt her presence, the man's eyelashes flickered open and he woke up.

"Welcome back to the world of the living." Rachel said slowly.

His gaze was bleary but soon focused on her and looked at her quizzically.

"Do you remember what happened?"

He looked around for a minute before whispering:

"We were riding when we fell into an ambush. They began to shoot us from everywhere. I saw the marshal fall, then my horse was shot and so was I. I remember the pain, then nothing else. How did you find us?"

"We were just following your way when we saw vultures flying. When we got closer, we discovered what they were waiting for."

"Did anyone else survive?"

"No, you're the only one coming out dressed and with his life."

At his puzzled look she continued:

"The bandits stole the clothes and the boots of all the others."

"Killing three men for their boots and clothes?"

"Four men. You're alive for mere chance."

The man's blue eyes grew green with sadness.

"I guess why, if I'm going to be hanged."

"God has plans for us all, so who can say what He has in store for you."

Rachel stopped for a moment looking at him and he held her gaze,

"The marshal said you were a dangerous murderer. What did you do to deserve the gallows?"

"I killed three men but it was during fair fights. It wasn't murder, it was justice. They killed my family and I killed them."

"If this is true and they got what they deserved, why is there a bounty on your head and you were kept shackled, guarded by three men?"

"Because the death of a squaw and her half-breed whelp doesn't matter."

His voice had grown rough and Rachel approached to his lips a glass of water. He raised his head slightly and as he eased himself again onto the pillow, he noticed the doll. The question is his eyes made Rachel smile.

"It was my daughter's idea. You were moaning in your sleep and she thought it was because of some bad dreams. She judged this would have helped."

"You've a sweet child, you're a lucky woman." he replied, putting one of his large hands on the doll. His eyelids grew weary and he fell asleep again. Rachel looked at him for a while, thinking. His story was really a sad one, and she didn't believe he was lying. All of a sudden, she felt very sorry for him.

In the following days the man began to recover. While he still slept a lot, his breathing was freer and he was able to stay seated, drinking and eating by himself. Emily often kept him company and Rachel heard him telling her tales about Indian tribes with his deep voice that always softened when he spoke to her daughter. While he seemed relaxed when he was with her, Rachel noticed his eyes full of sadness and pain, and she was sure he wasn't grieving for his wound. She could understand him, when her husband had died, only the presence of Emily had prevented her from dying out of desperation and he hadn't been given such consolation. Jonathan paid them visits quite frequently and Rachel suspected that he wanted to check the wounded man's behavior. She knew that her friend had been right saying that the talk would start and she was thinking about a solution. Meanwhile she was happy to have the stranger to take care of.

One morning she was awakened by a light movement of the wagon. It was dawn and she saw the man go outside. Intrigued she followed him. He hadn't gone very far, he was seated on the back of the cart, watching the sunrise. She did the same putting her shawl on his naked broad shoulders. He looked at her and she murmured:

"I'd be quite disappointed if you ruined my work with a bronchitis."

"It wasn't my intention, but I didn't find my shirt." he replied with a spark in his light eyes.

"How do you feel today?" she asked, fighting a sudden wish to caress his face.

"Quite fine, you worked wonders on me, even though I don't know why. I'm really thankful, but I'm afraid you wasted your skills. There's a bounty on my head and you have probably only delayed my end."

"You're speaking like Jonathan. When we found you he said that you'd have likely preferred dying by a bullet, than hanged."

"He was probably right, but, after all, I'm glad of being alive."

"I'm happy to hear this, I'd hate thinking that I wasted my time with you." Rachel said smiling. He returned her smile before saying.

"I realize now that I don't know your name and you don't know mine. I'm Evan Foster."

"Mr. Foster."

"Only Evan, please."

"All right Evan, I'm Rachel Hamilton. Only Rachel."

They remained in silence for a while, then Rachel stretched her hand toward the darkness of the cart. She found his Indian necklace and gave it to him and was rewarded by his expression of bewildered happiness.

"This is yours, I had to take it away to cure you. It's wonderful."

"It was my father's legacy. An old squaw gave it to him a long time ago and I had it when he died. He was a scholar and he lived his life wandering through the country to study the trees and the animals. I traveled with him from my birth on. We met lots of people and many tribes and even though they thought he was a crazy white man, they were kind to him and to me. He lived without a roof and something that was his, save his life, his clothes and his horse, but he died happy in the hills he had loved so much. I buried him under a giant tree from where you can see miles and miles of grass in every direction."

"That's why you know those stories you told to Emily?"

"Yes. I've always loved listening to the elders in the tribes, near the fire, telling tales of their ancestors, their Gods, their battles. I grew up much like a papoose until I was ten and my father decided to teach me something I might have found handy in the white men's world. I wouldn't say that I was happy, but by that time I had already guessed that my eyes were of the wrong color for an Indian. I guess I'm a sort of half-breed."

"Or half-soul?" Rachel asked, her eyes twinkling.

The man seemed to consider her words for a minute.

"Half-soul. This sounds well. I've been given many names and few of them were so nice. For some I'm a shame and a traitor to my kind."

"Because you used to live with the Indians?"

"Because I used to think of them as human beings deserving respect. When I got married with a squaw, some were astonished that I wasn't satisfied of taking her as a mistress. And they were just as astonished when I wanted to avenge her death and my son's, they seemed more willing to think that I wanted back the horses I bred. I tried to ask for the help of the marshal to track the murderers, but he was too scared to tread on the wrong feet, that he said he couldn't. I went alone and it wasn't difficult to find them. They didn't bother to cover their tracks. They still had my horses and things belonging to my wife. I reached the first while he was bragging his feat with other cheerful bastards. It took me three months to find all of them, but in the end I bested them all. The problem was that one of them was the brother of a very important and wealthy man and he put a bounty on me, leading the marshal to charge me with the accusation of murder. It's funny, but I ignored that I was a wanted man. After my revenge I passed some months with my wife's family and when I exited Indian territories I was arrested."

"Did you ever consider going back to them?" Rachel asked after the few moments of silence following his long explanation.

"Yes but I cannot. It would be too dangerous for them and I'm quite difficult to hide. I may think like an Indian, but I don't look like one of them."

"You're right, but you really look fine dressed like this." she couldn't help herself adding, waiting for his reaction.

He looked at her puzzled.

"Thank you." he then answered with an amused note in his voice. "Now," he continued "what are you going to do with me?"

"First I have to find you another accommodation. People have already started talking and even if I don't care about what they may think about me, I don't want to have my daughter suffering from gossip about you and me."

"You're right. Gossip can be cruel. My wife pretended not to pay attention, but she was very upset when she heard people talking about us. They didn't dare doing so in my face, but whispering behind my back was so much entertaining. Do you think you'd find someone willing to share his cart with a murderer? You seem willing to believe me, but I suppose this isn't a common feeling."

"I have an idea, but until I'm not sure, don't bother. Now go inside and rest."

Evan stretched carefully and yawned.

"Smart advice." he said and returned inside the cart, handing the shawl over to Rachel. While he disappeared into the darkness of the wagon, she could admire his muscled back and she thought that sometimes, being honest, could be a real pain in the neck. Sighing she got down to find a new accommodation for her guest.

Angus Nolan enjoyed waking up at dawn, when the world was quiet and the glory of God was plain to see. These untamed lands were magnificently bathed in the bright colors of the beginning of the day and he was happy. He carefully stretched his old bones and limbs, feeling them stiff after the night. He heard light footsteps approaching and wondered who could be up so early. He usually was the first to get up in the camp. When Rachel showed up he was even more intrigued about the reason of her visit.

"Good morning Mrs. Hamilton. What brings you here so early in the morning?"

"Good morning Mr. Nolan. I was wondering, are you still looking for help?"

Angus considered her question for a while.

"Speaking frankly, I don't know. Some of the younger lads wanting to be away from their mothers' skirts, but not that far, came here to help, but they hadn't wished to work and they went on telling me what to do and what not to. I'm not sure if I can stand this. At my age, I'm too stubborn to change."

"I'd have a suggestion for you. You only have to listen to me, then decide. Have you heard about the man we found wounded and that is now in my cart to recover?"

"The one that the marshal said was a murderer?"

"Yes, him. Now he's on his way to recover and he needs a place where to stay. He used to be a horse-breeder and once he'll be fully recovered he might be of great help for you."

"Are you suggesting me to share my wagon with a murderer? I may need help, but I'm not so desperate."

"He told me his story and I think he'd been seriously wronged. He's not a murderer. But I can understand your doubts. Before making up your mind, would you mind meeting him and speaking with him?"

Nolan considered her words for a while.

"Mrs. Hamilton, I've always thought that your nice head is covered with wonderful hair and filled with a bright brain. I don't believe you could be fooled by a handsome face so badly to make you lose your good sense, so tell to your guest to come here when he'll be fine and then I'll decide."

"Thank you Mr. Nolan. See you soon."

"See you soon."

Nolan watched her go away while he was considering her suggestion.

"Maybe I'm going crazy." he thought grinning, but this wasn't a thought that bothered him.

Two days later, Evan told Rachel that he was ready to meet Mr. Nolan. He asked Rachel for a razor, saying that he didn't want to frighten his possible host looking like a bear. Rachel laughed, admitting that his thick beard made him look a little wild, so she looked for her husband's razor, the strop, the brush, the soap and a small mirror.

"I'm afraid that the soap is quite old, but the blade is sharp." she said handing them over to Evan.

"Thank you very much. I hope you don't mind if I use these." He replied sympathetically.

"If I would, you won't have had them."

Emily volunteered to hold the mirror for him and he proceeded to shave. Rachel noticed that he did it in a different way, beginning from his chin, instead of from his cheeks, like her husband used to do. When he had finished he looked younger, but Rachel thought not less wild. Hoping that Nolan would like challenges, she took Evan to their meeting. They found the old man while he was preparing himself some coffee.

"Good morning Mr. Nolan." Evan greeted him politely and Nolan took him in attentively. He noticed his unruly collar length hair, the Indian jacket that revealed his broad shoulders instead of hiding them, the size of the hand the younger man presented to him and the work-roughened skin. He looked wild and dangerous, but not evil. His eyes, clear blue in the morning light, shone like the eyes of a wild animal, wary and honest. The eyes of a wolf. As though Evan had read Nolan's mind, his lips curled into an amused grin to which Nolan answered.

"Good morning to you, Mr. Foster. This lady here convinced me to give you a chance and this is what you're entitled to, nothing less, nothing more. So tell me you story and convince me of the reasons why I ought not treat you like a criminal."

"The bargain seems fair, if you have time to listen."

Nolan asked them to sit on the bench he had brought near the fire. When they all were seated, Evan began to talk. Though Rachel had heard his story before, she shivered when he repeated the particulars of his ordeal. His voice was low and even, but both Rachel and Nolan could see the pain and the rage in his eyes. They also saw unshed tears glistening when he recalled the memories of his now gone family. Nolan listened to his tale without interrupting and when Evan arrived at the end of it, he remained silent.

"This is a sad story. Something not really pleasant to hear. You might also be a lucky liar, who's trying to fool me with a moving story, but since I still trust my instinct, I think you're sincere. So, as long as you'll stay with us, you can share my wagon. You can move in here when your doctor says it's time."

Evan smiled and Nolan saw how much he changed when he did so.

"Thank you Mr. Nolan. I'll do my best not to disappoint you."

"Should you misbehave, you'll be kicked into the dust before you can do it twice."

Evan laughed at these words, and Rachel liked the sound of it. Both men shook their hands to seal the bargain, fixing an appointment for the following day for the moving.

When Evan left her wagon, Rachel offered him his husband's razor and some of his clothes.

"I thank you very much, but I cannot accept. You already did so much for me." he replied, trying to refuse.

She looked right into his eyes, a wicked smile spreading on her face while she said.

"Before worrying of depriving me of such expensive properties, may I remind you, Sir, that you've nothing else to wear, apart from what you've on now? I suppose that you'd like to wash your clothes from time to time and while doing it, it would be quite a scandal if you went around naked."

She bit her lips in order not to add that in the latter case, she'd love to see him. He seriously pondered her words, then he answered with a bad-boy grin.

"I suppose you're right, Madam, but I'll repay your kindness and generosity, as soon as I can."

"Don't worry, I'll keep the records." Rachel said finally watching him go away with a touch of regret in her heart.

After a couple of days of cohabitation, Nolan was quite happy of his new mate. Rachel had said that Evan used to breed horses and Nolan discovered that he had a good touch with all the animals. Even Horace, the most stubborn and ill-tempered mule he'd ever met, seemed to like him. The younger man was still recovering, but he was going better fast and Nolan never regretted his decision. He still kept his eyes open, but he was quite sure he hadn't been wrong trusting him. There had been a counsel to decide if Evan could remain with the caravan and after Rachel's explanation, it had been decided to accept him on probation. Some of the men happened to pass from time to time, by his wagon and when this happened, Evan used to wear an ironic smile, going on doing what he was doing, apparently oblivious of being controlled. Nolan had noticed that also some of the girls, and of the married women, for that matter, seemed to have found a sudden interest for his wagon. They casually showed up, apparently busy in important errands, but they never missed to keep an eye on the younger man, hoping for a hot sun that would have pushed all the men to strip to the waist. After some of these passages, Nolan took a critical look at Evan to discover what the women found so intriguing. He was quite big and broad shouldered, but even injured, he moved with the wild grace of a wolf. He didn't smile often, but Nolan suspected that his sober countenance was a push for the women to discover him, more than a hindrance to their projects. Evan seemed to accept this admiration with a certain detachment, he was always polite, but cold. Unless, of course, the woman was Rachel. She came to Nolan's wagon to check her patient and Nolan had noticed that Evan's eyes had a different light when she was around. He lost some of his soberness and acted as if he was torn between the wish to court her and the fear of being rejected.

"*I don't think she would.*" Nolan once thought, because she seemed to enlighten when he was at close range.

"*Let them understand each other*." he considered, going on with his usual life.

The caravan was crossing a chain of low hills, when a cloud of dust appeared at the horizon. The wagons stopped and the chief, Harrison Mojet, rode in front of the caravan to meet the newcomers. When the cloud turned into solid forms, it was plain to see that a band of Indians was approaching. They slowed their horses, near the carts, then came near at a slow trot. It was a group of about 20 young warriors, with a slightly older man in command. He was a slender man, with strong features and an unreadable expression on his face. He looked at the men and women on the carts, then to Mojet who greeted him in English, then tried to repeat it in an Indian language he hoped it was the right one.

The Indian replied in English with a thick but understandable accent:

"What are you doing here, in our lands?"

We're just crossing these lands to reach a point westward. We have no intention to disturb you, just pass and go. This is the fastest way for our wagons."

Mojet waited for the answer while the other man was looking at him, right in the eyes.

"White men are famous for not being true to their word." he said after a while and his hands casually touched the rifle near the saddle. Everybody tensed, both groups facing each other, ready for action, but at the same time unwilling to start it. All of a sudden, the Indian smiled, looking behind's Mojet's back. He said something in his mother tongue and somebody answered in the same tone. All the eyes turned to see Evan talking to him as if they were friends. The dialogue went on very fast and even those who could speak that language a little, weren't able to follow. Evan stepped closer to the horse and his friend gave him a long bow with a quiver of arrows. Then they clasped their hands and the rider gestured to his men that it was time to go. They spoke a few more words and soon they vanished in a cloud of dust.

The people of the caravan stood stunned for a few moments, then Mojet turned to Evan asking:

"Would you be as kind as to let us know what happened?"

Evan grinned and complied:

"He was Dark Cloud, an old acquaintance of mine. These are the lands of his tribe and he wasn't too happy to see us here, but as long as we keep our word, we won't have problems. We'll be controlled, but not bothered."

"Why the bow and the arrows?"

"Because he saw that I was disarmed and he said that this isn't a good thing for a man."

"They will go with that deer jacket, anyway, just don't use them on someone of the caravan."

"I don't use weapons with no reason."

"Well, try not to find one. Anyway, thank you very much for your help."

"You're welcome."

Evan returned to Nolan's wagon with his new possessions and while he was walking away Jonathan watched his departure with a smile on his face. Rachel saw him and asked:

"What's so amusing?"

"Would you like to know how the Indian chief called our friend?"

"How?"

"Eyes of a wolf."

She pondered a minute before saying:

"Well, it suits him."

"Yes, I think so, too. A wolf among sheep."

"I'm not a sheep and you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"A goat?" was the answer and they both started laughing.

The gift of the bow and the arrows brought a change to the diet of the camp. Every now and then, Evan vanished early in the morning, or when it was dark, returning with animals he had hunted. He borrowed a knife to skin his preys and prepare their furs for further use. During one of his flights, Evan gained the gratitude of the parents of one of the rascals of the camp. With some friends, he had decided to take a midnight bath in a muddy pond, but they hadn't taken into account the coldness of the night. While he was in the deepest waters, he discovered that he was unable to return because both his legs had cramped. Luckily Evan was returning from one night of hunting and hearing the commotion had dived into the cold waters to rescue the boy. He had then returned to the camp with the drenched kid in his arms, teeth chattering and quite concerned about his fate when his parents would have gotten hold of him; followed by the other rascals quickly trying to return to their wagons feigning a deep sleep. The big adventure ended with some frights, a cold, a few young butts aching and a big warm cake baked by a grateful mother. After this, even those who hadn't been too happy of having Evan in the camp, had changed their minds.

Once Evan asked Jonathan to lend him one of his horses. The man wasn't too sure about this, but finally consented. Jonathan saw Evan ride away, then went to Rachel's cart.

"If he doesn't come back, you'll owe me a horse." he said when he had arrived.

"Why? It was you who decided to give it to him?" she objected.

"'Cause it was you who fought to save his life."

"He'll return." she said with a stinging fear he wouldn't.

"*He'll do, 'cause you're here*." Jonathan said to himself, stopping the grin that had started to surface, watching her concerned look.

They both were right. Evan returned the day after, followed by an appaloosa stallion, three mares and a colt. The animals were bound with a rope, but they didn't seem willing to escape. Evan stopped at Jonathan's wagon and got down from the horse.

"Thank you very much for your horse. It helped me a lot." he said handing over to the other man the rope of one of the mares. Jonathan looked at him stunned, only able to watch him going away with the other animals. He stopped again at Rachel's wagon, where he left another mare for her and her colt for Emily, who cried for joy. He finally left the last mare to Nolan, then binding the stallion to a tree. Nolan approached him, while he was talking to the big animal who seemed to be listening to what Evan was whispering in its ears.

"This is a great gift." Nolan said and the younger man nearly jumped in surprise.

"You were kind to me, you trusted me and this is a greater gift. I have nothing that belongs to me, and this is the only way I am able to thank you."

"I gave you what you deserved and you never disappointed me. Now, in exchange of your present, I have a piece of advice for you. Maybe you don't want or need it, but just listen to it. I have observed you and I've done the same with Rachel. You feel something for her and she does the same, it's plain to see. Don't let this occasion slip away. She's too young and to good to be alone. Go and make her happy. She deserves it."

Evan's tan took a suspiciously red tone, while Nolan continued.

"Go to her."

Not knowing what to say, Evan turned towards the horse, beginning to brush his mane, thoughtfully.

Although his first instinct had been to run to Rachel and to confess to her how much he cared for her, Evan decided not to tell her. He still was a wanted man and he had nothing to offer her. She was sweet and strong, bold and kind and he could not think of a better future than loving her, but he couldn't stand the thought of seeing her suffer because of him. When they first met and she had given him water, he was afraid that the marshal could chasten her for her kindness. When he had seen her worried face in the dim light, he would have wanted to be unchained to comfort her, telling her that he was all right, just to make her feel better. Anyway, she was far so precious for him that he was well aware that his struggle to keep her out of his mind was lost from the beginning.

The caravan had stopped near a quiet river and the women had taken the opportunity to do the washing. Evan arrived at the spot when Emily was helping her mother to wring out the laundry, but her tiny hands weren't of great help.

"Do you need help, my ladies?" He asked and Rachel answered smiling:

"Yes, thank you."

He took a blanket from Emily's hand and began to wring it out with his large hands and his efforts were far more productive than Emily's. Watching herself replaced, Emily decided to run and follow a friend of hers who had asked her to play hide and seek. Rachel and Evan continued with the job and as they had hanged out the washing on the bushes, decided to take a break and relax under a tree. They sat down, their backs against a large trunk, close enough to feel each other's warmth. His gaze and thoughts lost somewhere else, Evan put his hand on Rachel's. She flinched in surprise and he took it away.

"I'm sorry. I was distracted, I didn't mean to...." he started speaking and Rachel was overjoyed to watch him blush.

"Don't worry." she interrupted his apologize grabbing his hand. "I like it."

He looked at her quizzically, as if he were trying to read other meanings in her words. Her soft hands felt amazingly good on his and he began to think how it would have been, feeling the same all over his body. His breathing grew a little hoarse as he tried to forget what he was thinking of, but it was really hard, with her so close. She raised her right hand to his cheek, then under his hair, just over the nape. He shivered slightly and just couldn't resist brushing her lips. The hand on his nape tightened the grip as she drew his head closer, while their kiss burned with passion. Evan wrapped her in his embrace and time stopped for a long moment. When their lips parted, their eyes were shining and they both breathed hard.

"Don't do that again or you'll be taken right on this spot." Evan said, trying to deal with the rush of desire he felt.

"This sounds like a really nice suggestion." Rachel answered coyly.

"Not with half of the people of the caravan at ear-shot. I'm afraid that your reputation would seriously suffer."

"You're too logical, but I suppose you're right."

They both remained silent for a few minutes, then Evan said with a bitter note in his voice.

"When we reach the next town, I'll give myself up to the marshal."

Rachel looked at him worriedly.

"But why? You can stay with us. We're heading to a place where nobody knows you. Why do you want to risk your life?"

"Because I love you." he answered flatly.

"And....."

"And I cannot dream of a life with you, with such a curse on my head. You deserve much more than this, much more than me, I'm afraid."

"Don't say that, you're everything I need and want." Rachel replied deadly serious. "I love you, too. I'd prefer being hanged myself than watching you suffer, but just because I love you, I'll remain with you whatever you decide. Even if it will break my heart."

"If I'm still alive after this, I'll ask you to marry me and we shall build our house somewhere westwards with rooms for us, Emily and the children to come."

"I'd like a boy, as first. Just to taste the difference. Emily has always told me that she would have liked to have a little brother. After, that it doesn't matter."

The sad expression on his face softened at her words and he held her in his arms, struggling to imagine a future for both of them.

Some days later, Evan was out from the camp to show to Emily how to train the colt. She was riding the young animal, while he walked next to her explaining the techniques and the tricks for being successful. Both were so concentrated that they didn't realize having arrived near a small wood, a couple of miles from the carts.

"I think it's time to go back, Emily. Did you choose a name for your horse?" Evan asked the child.

She pondered about the problem, then replied.

"Tim. I think this suits him fine."

"Tim? Well Tim, do you like your name?" Evan asked gently patting the animal's neck and the colt seemed to nod in agreement.

"He likes it!" Emily said laughing and Evan imitated her.

Suddenly, something caught his attention. He heard a noise, like someone loading a gun. He cursed himself for having left the camp disarmed. His instinct confirmed that they were spied and he was afraid for Emily.

"Well, Emily, I think it's time for you to return or your Mum may worry. I still have something to do here, so tell her not to wait for me." he said with a merry tone, in order not to frighten her.

"Will you be back soon?"

"Yes, I will. Now go, you and Tim need to rest. Be careful riding home or your mother will have my head, *or maybe someone else*." he added to himself watching her ride away waving goodbye. He stood still, hoping that the strangers would not follow her, being content of having him. He held his breath until she was out of sight, then returned slowly towards the trees, keeping his hands in plain sight.

"You did well, Bastard. The show we're going to put up isn't suitable for young eyes." a voice said. At first Evan didn't recognize who had spoken, but when the man stepped out from the shadows, with a gun aimed at him, everything became clear. He was facing Lester Reilly, the brother of one of the murderers of his family, the one with enough money and power to put a bounty on him and to scare the marshal of his town to death. As a matter of fact, the marshal was near him, seemingly embarrassed. The group counted other two men.

"Hands up, or I'll shoot you where you are." Reilly said.

"How did you find me?"

"We got news that you'd been arrested and we were following you to help those who were bringing you back, when we found their graves. At first we thought that you were with them, but when we discovered traces of the caravan, we started looking for you. It wasn't easy, but now we've got you."

Evan looked at the marshal, then at Reilly.

"I'm moved to be worth of our marshal's precious time. My wife's and son's lives didn't deserve a minute of it." he observed with bitter irony, but he didn't get a reply. Reilly gestured his henchmen to come closer. They came near, one holding a rope, the other a rag. One roughly tied Evan's wrists in front of him, while the other gagged him. At Evan's quizzical look, Riley explained.

"There are few things I would enjoy more than to hear you screaming, but I don't want to be disturbed. Hang him up there."

Evan was pushed forward, near a big tree, where his captors launched the rope over a branch. Then, they pulled it until the prisoner was hanging a few inches above the ground. Evan felt his arms' muscles tightening in supporting his whole weight, together with a painful memory of the hit near the breastbone. Riley got closer, grabbing Evan's Indian necklace. He took the time to observe it attentively, then he grimaced before snatching it from his neck. Evan's eyes shone with fury and he clung to the rope before raising his feet to kick Riley hard in the waist. The man fell startled, cursing loudly. Evan smiled though the gag and the light in his expression remained even when somebody stopped his swaying hitting him roughly on the back. One of the henchmen secured his ankles together, then bound the other end of the rope at Evan's neck, to prevent him from repeating the move. Meanwhile the other helped Reilly on his feet.

"Nice move, you'll pay for this, too."

Reilly said producing a knife he used to rip Evan's shirt apart, exposing his torso. He put the weapon away without haste, then smiled kindly to the man tied in front of him, before starting to punch him. With his feet not touching the ground, there wasn't too much Evan could do to better stand the blows that were reaching him with no mercy. He gasped and his teeth clenched on the gag, while Reilly kept pummeling, taking his breath away. After a first series of wicked blows, Reilly decided to take a break, not for the prisoner's comfort, but to rub his hands that were a little bruised and to consider other options. During these moments the pain became stronger and Evan wondered if being hanged would have been a better solution. His body burned with pain and with the certainty that this was only the beginning. Reilly went away a few steps, to collect a flexible branch detached from a tree. He moved it like a whip and finding it seemingly satisfactory, he returned to face his victim. He observed Evan with joy, stopping his eyes at the bruises that had started to surface on his skin, then proceeded to whip him with crossed strokes. The first blow made Evan's head move forward, but he had to stop because the rope around his neck was strangling him. The world became a living hell of suffering, so excruciating that Evan was happy to be gagged, so that the outcries he couldn't help to let out, were muffled by the fabric. His mind and body struggled to retreat from the pain and he found himself floating in and out of consciousness. Through his bleary eyes he saw Reilly relishing the pain he was administering and Evan idly wondered if his brother had had the same expression while killing his family. It was the last coherent thought he was able to manage, when a welcomed oblivion descended on him.

The escape from reality didn't last long, though. Evan's eyes slowly opened to see Reilly with the knife once again in his right hand. The blade was red hot and the prisoner realized that the strange smell in his nostrils, was the smell of his burning skin. He tried to breathe deeper to absorb all the messages that were shouting inside of him, but it was so hard just to fight the tears that twinkled in his eyes. He felt the heat near his chest once again and he bit the gag in anticipation, but a voice stopped the hurting hand.

"Put down that knife or I'll shoot you right on the spot." a familiar voice commanded. "Go away from him!"

"*Jonathan? I must be dreaming.*" Evan thought recognizing the voice. When his gaze cleared slightly, he saw his torturer complying stepping backward.

"He's a wanted man and if you help him, you'll be convicted for abetting." Reilly said coldly, still keeping his hands up.

"Anyway, you had no right to torture him." Jonathan replied.

Rachel jumped down from her horse, running toward Evan. She felt a stab of pain in her stomach watching him hanging helpless from a tree, bruised and battered. Getting closer she had a clearer view of the damages and she burned with rage. Before going to help him, she faced Reilly who was still grinning, but the expression faded as she hit him in the groin with her knee. While he gasped in surprise, she turned and got closer to the prisoner. Nolan who had followed her, took the opportunity to grab the knife from the hand of Reilly, smiling happily seeing him moaning. Rachel fought the tears watching the result of Reilly's hatred on Evan. He was barely conscious, the pain far too much visible on his face. Nolan went behind his back and cut the rope around his neck and ankles. He then tried to cut the other but Evan's wrists were out of his reach.

"Rachel, be ready to catch him." he said going to the tree on which the rope was secured. He cut the knot and took the rope in his hands. He maneuvered it slowly to allow Rachel easing the prisoner onto his back on the soft ground. She unfastened the gag and gently kissed him. He slowly opened his eyes and a tired attempt of a smile acknowledged her presence.

"Rachel, what are you doing here?" he asked hoarsely.

"Watching over you, of course." she added and her words reached him before he fainted on the grass. Nolan returned next to him to free his wrists and after he had done that, Rachel started to massage them to help the circulation of the blood. The marshal broke the silence that had fallen during the freeing of Evan.

"He must face a trial, you cannot take him away this way."

"He had already decided to give himself up at the next town. All this violence was useless. He'll return with us and you can follow if you want, but not too close." Jonathan answered without lowering his rifle.

"Is he still alive?" he asked Rachel.

"Yes, but he's not doing well. We need to take him back to the camp right now."

Two of the men of the caravan came to help to put Evan onto a sort of Indian sledge that they attached to Jonathan's horse. Jonathan turned to survey their work and watching the handiwork of Reilly, the hand on the rifle tightened.

"And they say that HE is the criminal." he hissed angrily.

When Evan was secured in place, Jonathan put away the rifle, turning his horse towards the camp, while others kept Reilly and his men under fire. Rachel and Nolan followed him and they made their way back to the camp as fast as possible.

Rachel had the impression that the journey lasted for an unbearably long time. When they finally reached her wagon and hauled Evan onto it, she remembered very clearly curing him not so long ago and she hoped that the result was just as successful.

"I was right that Evan was in trouble, wasn't I?" Emily said coming closer with the bottle of laudanum already in her hands.

"You saved his life from some very bad men who wanted to kill him." Rachel answered giving her a light kiss of thanks. Before starting to tend his wounds, she let some drops of laudanum fall onto his lips, just to be sure that he wouldn't wake up. She willed herself to forget for a while that she loved him, to have the needed detachment to use her skills on his battered body. She wasn't completely successful, but she managed not to weep thinking about what he had been through. Rachel cleaned the whiplashes and used an ointment to disinfect them and help the healing process. The bruises were concentrated on the lower part of his torso and Rachel found that he probably had a couple of broken ribs. She used another preparation then asked for Jonathan's help to prop Evan up to bandage him. When they had finished Jonathan and another man moved Evan into the wagon.

"Thank you very much." Rachel said to Jonathan.

"He deserves a friend. He had had his fair share of bad luck for this year. I'd only hope this is the last time that we must rescue him. He's quite a heavy baby to haul around. You'll have to cure my back, too, if this story goes on."

Despite of her concern, she had to laugh at her friend's words. She waved him goodbye, going inside to be with Evan.

The following days, even those who had been contrary of Evan's presence, came asking for news about his condition. The story of what had happened had spread throughout the camp and, safe for some curious ones, most of the others were truly concerned. Many women brought pillows to help him rest more comfortably and Rachel thanked them, her eyes full of tears. She was happy to reassure them that while he was still unconscious, his life didn't seem to be in danger. Watching him moan in his sleep, Rachel truly wished that there was a way to take the pain away from him, even for a few hours, just to let him sleep without pain and without dreaming. She lightly ran her fingers over his cheeks, caressing the short stubble that covered his face. For a second she had the impression that his expression had softened a little and she couldn't help smiling, before putting a gentle kiss on his cold forehead.

"Sleep well, my love. Nobody will hurt you anymore." She said, praying to be right.

The rhythmical dropping of the rain awakened Evan in the middle of the night. He felt cold air on his face, but at the same time he wasn't cold and he wondered why. Moving his hands in the darkness he found himself wrapped in Rachel's warm quilt and Rachel herself was sleeping next to him, her body stretched so close to his, that he could hear her heartbeat. The sensation was so comforting that for a long while he forgot the pain, being able to fall asleep again, filled with a warmth that had little to do with the temperature of the night.

Rachel was awakened by the first light of day. She felt a weight on her left hand and found out that it was Evan's. He was still asleep and she was happy to see that he looked peaceful. She put her right hand on his to reassure herself, that he was there, next to her. He moved and she lifted her head. Evan's eyes were open, looking at her with an expression she couldn't read in the dim light.

"Why am I not in Nolan's wagon? Aren't you afraid of gossip anymore?" he asked.

"I don't give a damn if somebody doesn't agree. You're mine and I want you to stay as close as possible. Look at what happened when you wandered around alone."

Evan gave a short laugh, suddenly stopping when his broken ribs ached. Rachel put her hand on his torso apologizing.

"I'm sorry."

"It's nothing. I'm fine, quite worn but fine."

He covered her hand with his, remaining silent for a while. His stomach growled and she laughed.

"There's someone here looking for attention." she observed.

"It's not the only one. I must get up, there's something I have to do."

"Tell me, what do you need?"

Evan grinned.

"You're too kind, but this is something that I really must do by myself. You only have to help me."

"But you're not strong enough to get up. What's so important that I cannot do it for you?" Rachel asked before realized what he had meant. She blushed a little.

"I see. I suppose you're right. Now, let's see how to get down from here."

With small careful movements, Evan managed to get dressed and down from the wagon. He felt dizzy and his body protested for the abuse, but he felt better than expected. With Rachel's help, he reached one of the latrines. She walked tactfully away, quickly returning when she judged it was the moment. Evan was waiting for her leaning against a tree. He was breathing hard, his teeth clenched on the ashen face. She ran to him worried.

"I knew it was too soon." she said ducking her head to slip under his arm to help him. The way back was harder because Evan had to move very slowly and he couldn't put too much of his weight on Rachel. He slipped on the mud and fell on his knees, cursing, dragging Rachel in his fall. Jonathan found them a minute later in the same position.

"I know that getting dirty is one of the pleasures of life, but aren't you both a tad too old for this?" he asked teasingly.

Evan shot him a murderous glare through the hair that had fallen on his forehead.

"If you use to look at your preys they way you're looking at me now, I wonder why you use bow and arrows for hunting. You could make them die for fear just as easily."

"When I'll be better, I suggest you to stay out of my way." Evan said grinning through the pain. Jonathan stretched out a hand for Rachel, then they both sided Evan.

"Are you ready to try?" Jonathan asked.

"Please give me a minute more, I'm trying to see only two of you." Evan answered breathing deeply. When he felt that the worst was over, he nodded to Jonathan and Rachel who grabbed his arms to help him on his feet. Somehow they managed to return to Rachel's cart, stopping every now and then to allow Evan to gather his force. Rachel felt the tension of his arm on her shoulder and the trembling of the muscles and she prayed to be back as fast as possible. As they arrived, Evan rested a minute outside the cart. With more will power than real strength, he managed to climb on the cart, before collapsing on the pillows. As he laid down his eyes closed to concentrate on the process of convincing his body to forgive him for the movement. Rachel watched him without talking, until she realized that he had fallen asleep from exhaustion. She proceeded taking his boots off, then his pants. During the stripping he shuddered slightly, but didn't wake up. She put the quilt on him, sighing.

"Don't worry he's strong. He'll soon be better." Jonathan said to her as she went back outside.

"For what? To be hanged in good shape?" she observed bitterly. "I would like to take a gun and shoot that bastard that did this to him, with all the others on his heels. They're still around, of course."

"Yes, but they don't dare approach. The last time one of them tried to sneak into the camp, he received a stone in his back, so they gave up. We cannot know how this will end for Evan, but we can hope for a fair trial, especially if he can count on someone who can speak for him, balancing the lies of his foes."

"I told him to stay with us, keeping himself far from the law, but he said that he didn't want to live his life with such a curse on his head. I know he's right, but I'm so afraid."

"Only God knows. Let's hope He decided to be on his side." Jonathan added sympathetically. Rachel added her silent prayer to that statement.

Evan woke up again in the afternoon, finding Emily next to him playing dolls with a friend of hers, a blond child who looked like a small fairy.

"Good afternoon Mr. Foster." she said politely seeing that his eyes were open. "Do you feel better, today?"

Evan considered the answer for a minute and said.

"A little better. Thank you for your concern."

"Was it you who saved my brother from drowning in that pond?" she asked then.

"Yes. So you must be Priscilla."

"Yes, I am. But why you didn't let him drown? I could have gotten rid of him and his jokes."

Evan hid a smile at her words and replied.

"I suppose that your parents would have been quite upset if I did, wouldn't they?"

"I think you're right, but he can be so annoying sometimes."

"Did you ever consider to pay him back?" Evan suggested.

"What do you mean?" Priscilla demanded suddenly interested.

"Well, when I was a small kid." Evan began to say, pausing when he saw the incredulous look on the child's eyes watching his heavy muscled arms. "You may not believe it now, but I've been small, too. Where was I? All right. When I was a small kid there was a bully who kept annoying me and I was too small to fight so I started to think. I went to ask for my father's advice and since he knew plants and herbs, he gave me some suggestions."

The narration went on, with both children becoming more and more interested, asking questions, even taking notes. When the carts stopped for the evening Priscilla returned to her parents, with Emily on her heels and Evan could nearly see her brain working on a plot. She greeted him with a kind smile, walking away happy as a clam. Rachel followed her with her eyes, puzzled at the strange expression on the child's face.

"She looks like a cat who stole the cream. What did you tell her?" she asked Evan who had a wry smile painted on his face.

"Nothing. I only gave her some suggestions for a payback."

"If somebody comes here looking for you with a gun, I don't know you."

"Boys of that age don't wear guns, yet. I hope at least."

"You're corrupting the young minds of the caravan."

"No, I'm not. I'm just balancing the odds."

"Someone will soon have a surprise. Now, let me see my work."

Rachel came closer and carefully unfastened the bandages. The scars looked clean and she used her ointment on them again. She gently touched the bruises and checked his ribs. They seemed to be mending and she decided not to replace the bandages. When she finished she lifted her head and saw Evan's face covered with sweat.

"The situation is going better, but I won't ask you if it hurts." Rachel said holding his gaze. "Would you like a bit of Laudanum? It would help you to sleep."

"Thank you, but I don't want to waste my time with you sleeping. It's really a pity not being in any shape for doing what I'd really love doing." he added coyly.

"Respectable women aren't supposed to say these things, but I agree with you on the last matter. It's frustrating having you so close and so far at the same time. You're quite a temptation, you know. I'd like to touch you and not just to cure your wounds."

"And I'd like you to touch me, and me touching you. Please come closer."

Rachel obliged leaning on the pillows. She gently pulled his head onto her shoulder, brushing lightly his forehead and face. She cradled him like a child, hoping to make him forget the pain, the past and the hatred. After a few minutes, she heard him say, with a drowsy voice.

"This is so much better than your potions."

She laughed, kissing his brown hair, murmuring soothing words until he was asleep. She then rested his head onto the pillows and went out to fix dinner.

That evening Nolan came to pay a visit.

"You don't look that bad, considering how I saw you last time." he said after having taken a good look at the younger man. "My cart seems empty and even Horace is missing you."

"I'm moved." Evan replied laughing a little. Nolan watched Rachel who was outside washing the dishes in a basin.

"You've a different look on your face, my friend, so I suppose you talked to her."

"Yes. I couldn't help it. If I escape the gallows, I'll ask her to marry me."

"Good choice. She's good and smart. If I were twenty or thirty years younger we would have fought for her. When she lost her husband in an accident one year ago, many tried to offer themselves, some for consolation, others because she had a cart and she was good at cooking and healing, but she always refused. You are the only one she didn't reject."

"When my wife died, I wished I had died with her and our child. When I was captured I thought that death would have been a solution for my sorrow. I started to feel alive again only after knowing Rachel."

As if she had heard them talking about her, Rachel turned to the wagon smiling and Nolan witnessed the sudden change in Evan's expression. His face softened and for the first time he looked happy.

"*I've lost a mate,*" - the old man thought "*but someone else has gained one*." he concluded, hoping for a happy ending.

Three days later, the caravan reached a town called Amazon. During a counsel Rachel had suggested that the caravan continued its journey and those who would have remained for the trial would have followed later, but the majority decided to take a break and they made camp just on the outskirts of the town.

Evan and Rachel decided to ride into town as soon as they arrived, to be sure to speak to the marshal before Reilly could fill his ears with the poison of his words. Evan was still weak, but he managed to mount his horse without major concerns and Rachel followed him on riding the mare. All they had to say had already been said, so their journey was silent. When they arrived at the marshal's office, she helped Evan dismount and they got in together. The marshal was at his desk, writing and he lifted his head looking quizzically at them. Watching a man walking slowly accompanied by a woman who helped him, his first thought was that they were reporting an accident or an assault. When the stranger got closer and explained the reason of his presence, the marshal was quite surprised. He took his collection of posters and after some researches he found the one with Evan's face. The portrait wasn't too alike, but the name and the reason why he was wanted were clear.

"Someone seems very eager to find you." the marshal observed reading the amount of the bounty.

"Yes, he'll soon show up. Please pay the bounty to this woman. It was her who found me."

At Rachel's protest, he shushed her.

"Why make Reilly save his money? And I want you to have the money for my life."

The lawman observed stunned the exchange and then proceeded to arrest Evan. As a matter of fact, he only accompanied him into one of the two cells, that were usually used to allow someone to sleep off too much drinking. When the door closed, a short sigh escaped from the prisoner's lips. Rachel waved him goodbye, her eyes shining with tears and went outside. The marshal watched her through the windows and saw her climbing on the mare, holding the reins of a big stallion.

"Is it yours that stallion?" he asked with a touch of envy.

"Yes, it is. He's a bit strong-headed, but we get along quite fine." Evan answered proudly.

"I've always been dreaming of riding a horse like that, but I cannot afford to buy one."

"Neither can I, he was a wild one when I got hold of him. I broke and trained him, now he's mine."

"He's really a beautiful beast."

The marshal stopped just before adding "*You're lucky having him*." which would have sounded teasing. The prisoner eased himself onto the cot with some difficulties and the marshal wondered why, then returned to his desk to prepare the documents for the request of the bounty.

It was mid-afternoon when there was another visit. Four men came riding fast and they got in slamming the door open. The marshal jumped in surprise, none too pleased by such attitude. A dark-haired man was the first to show up and strut his way into the office as if he were the master, followed by two henchmen and another man, wearing a marshal's badge. Strangely enough, this latter seemed frightened.

"Are you the marshal?" asked the dark-haired man with a commanding tone that made the marshal answer more coldly than he was used to.

"Since this is the marshal's office, I'm seated on his chair and wearing his badge, I suppose I can consider myself the marshal. And whom do I have to the honor to talk to?"

"Lester Reilly and this is Titus Johnson, our marshal. These two guys are men of mine."

"David Travis." the marshal presented himself ignoring the hand the other man had stretched in his direction. "How can I help you?" he added annoyed by the lack of respect he sensed from Reilly.

"I'm here to report you the presence of a dangerous criminal who's hiding in a caravan that made camp at the outskirts of town. You'll recognize him because, though he's a white man, he dresses like an Indian. He's six feet tall, broad shouldered, with brown hair and light eyes. He killed, among others, my brother and I offered a big bounty."

Travis had listened attentively to his declaration, his face set like a stone, but as he replied his voice had a slight teasing accent.

"I'm glad to meet you, Sir, 'cause your presence will spare me some paperwork. I was going to prepare the request for the money, but since you're here I'll be able to hand them over without fussing."

Reilly looked at him puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"That I'm already here." a deep voice answered from the shaded side of the room. Reilly turned startled, a gun in his right hand.

"Take away that gun immediately, mister, or you'll be deep in trouble." the marshal said angrily. "This is my office and I cannot allow prisoners being shot under my nose."

"Where did you find him?" Reilly asked putting away his gun, bemused for the marshal's reaction.

"I didn't. He did. He arrived here this morning with a woman saying that she found him, so she'll be entitled to the bounty."

"But she's his woman. This is a trick to collect the bounty."

"This is none of my business. The poster didn't mention that the collector of the bounty ought to be a foe of his. Depriving her of something she's entitled to would be against the law, wouldn't it?"

Reilly looked displeased, but considered that, for now, seeing Evan behind the bars was enough and he could even pay the bounty. After all it was right that that woman had caught him. Without her, that bastard would have probably been miles and miles away.

"All right! Do you have a bank in this town?" he asked.

"Yes, we have. Three buildings after this office, on the left side of the main street."

"I'll return soon with the money. Keep an eye on that bastard."

"I always do." Travis answered coolly.

Travis waved a goodbye and got out, followed by the others. As the last closed the door, the marshal turned to Evan, who after those few words had remained silent. He was nearly indistinguishable in the shadow, only his light eyes catching a spark from a window.

"Eyes of a wolf." Travis considered and went closer.

"He doesn't like you." he said addressing the prisoner.

"He has a reason. I killed his brother, but I had a reason, too." Evan answered without explaining, then continued. "Did you see his horse?"

"Yes, a big palomino, with long powerful legs. Why are you asking?"

"Simple curiosity." Evan answered, but Travis knew that nothing in this man was simple. He wasn't sure why he thought so, but he was.

A strange man, indeed, far from common.

The first impression about his prisoner lingered on in the following days. The judge was expected to return in four days, so the marshal had the chance to enjoy his company and observe him closely. He showed himself surprisingly kind and calm for a murderer of three men, to believe the poster. He didn't speak often, but he had flattered Travis' wife when she had brought him a meal and the marshal thought that he wasn't teasing, he seemed just willing to make her feel good, even if the food was surely bad. His Rosie was the best wife a man could dream of, beautiful, sweet, warm in bed and shy outside, but she had never been a good cook. No matter how good the ingredients were she used to prepare a dish, she was able to transform them into an undefined slop. Thank God, the woman who had accompanied the prisoner had come to meet him, bringing some very good food and the quality of both men's diet had drastically improved. She had also asked permission to enter his the cell to check his condition and the marshal had consented. Normally he wouldn't, but since those two had presented spontaneously, the risk of an evasion seemed quite improbable.

"What happened?" Travis asked after a close look at Evan's torso, during one on the woman's visits.

"While I was on my way to your town, I had a *casual* meeting with the gentleman who put the bounty on me. He decided to spare the judge's time, having me hanging like a sack from a tree and doing his best to beat me to death." Evan answered with bitter irony. "First he used his fists, then, when he discovered that this was bad for his knuckles, he used a small branch. After having had some fun with it, he choose another toy, his red-hot knife. If I'm here talking to you, it's only because this woman's wonderful daughter had warned some friends of mine who came to rescue me, just in time."

Travis came closer and the evidence of what he had just said was in plain sight. The bruises had changed color and the whipstrokes were healing, but the damage was evident, as well as the scars left by the rope on Evan's wrists.

"I wonder why he didn't kill you when he put his hands on you. At this time you would be dead and his brother's death avenged. And he would have saved to money of the bounty." the marshal observed.

"Because the other way was so much more fun. You should have seen his face. He smiled all the time."

Even after only one meeting with Reilly, Travis believed Evan's words. Evan had admitted his responsibilities in the killings he had been charged of, but at the same time he didn't seem a liar or evil. On the other hand his accuser had shown an attitude the marshal didn't like. He was happy not to be in charge of the judgment, it would have been hard for him, having started, for the first time in his life, to sympathize with the defendant.

After one of Rachel's visits, the marshal discovered a curious addition to his office's furniture. On the prisoner's cot lay a doll with woolen hair and an embroidered apron.

"This is probably the first time that I host one of these." he said pointing at the doll. Evan smiled.

"This is a wish of good luck by Emily, Rachel's daughter. She says it might help me to sleep without nightmares."

"And it works?"

"Better than expected." Evan answered with an amused spark in his eyes.

"Children seem to have a special sense for things like this. It was her who made them find you?"

"Yes. She was with me before I was captured. I had felt the presence of others and told her to return to her mother. She had had the impression that something was wrong and lead my rescuers to the place where I was being tortured."

"Smart little girl."

"Yes, just like her mother."

Evan's expression changed as he asked:

"When is the judge supposed to arrive?"

"In three days."

Evan nodded thoughtfully and the marshal decided to leave him alone with his thoughts, none too pleasant, he suspected.

Reilly had installed in the saloon, waiting for the judge and, like his men, he spent his time playing and drinking. He wasn't too happy of his accommodation. Not because of the room, after weeks on the road even a stable would have suited him fine, but he was used to a different treatment. He was accustomed to be respected and feared. After a few hours in this God-forsaken town, he had discovered that he was too far from home and his influence didn't have the same weight. Even that marshal didn't seem ready to congratulate for having captured a criminal of that magnitude. Taking in the crowded room, Reilly noticed that some of the men of the caravan had decided to enjoy a shot of whisky far from their women. He recognized the one who had threatened him while freeing Foster and a sudden anger caught him. He considered to challenge him, but he was in minority and he wasn't sure about the town marshal's behavior. Consequently he went on sipping his drink, nursing dark thoughts.

Hours later, Reilly stepped out of the saloon, deciding to take a look at the prisoner, together with his men. He was close to the marshal's office, when a spark caught his attention. A man was lightening a cigar, just in front of the jail, a rifle casually resting on his lap, apparently observing the moon-rising.

Reilly cursed softly, returning to the saloon and his angry steps sounded loudly in the silence in the night.

After a visit at home, to greet his wife, bathe and shave, the judge went to meet the marshal. Travis was at his desk and he raised his head hearing the door's hinges squeaking.

"When will you resolve to lubricate that door?" the judge said with mock frustration.

"Those hinges are a good alarm when I'm concentrated on my work."

"Or when you're taking a nap?"

"Have you ever caught me dozing?"

"It would be impossible with that door."

"Of course. That's why I keep it that way. How was the visit?"

"Nothing important. Just a few quarrels for bordering disagreements, nothing really serious. And what happened here? I see you have a guest. Do I know him?" The judge said spotting the man sleeping in the cell.

"No, he's a stranger." Travis answered, gesturing to the older man to follow him outside. Puzzled, the judge complied and remained silent, until they both reached the bench outside the office.

"Who is that man?"

The marshal began to narrate the odd circumstances of the presence of the prisoner, the men on his heels and showed the poster to the judge.

"A strange story, indeed." he replied. "I think it will be better making a decision as soon as possible. Tell him that the trial shall begin tomorrow at 11.00."

"All right. Tomorrow at 11.00." Travis acknowledged.

The judge stood up and went away and the marshal returned inside, gently closing the door in order not to disturb the sleeping man. There would have been time.

Rachel had come for a visit and she saw the judge going away. Her heart missed a beat, suspecting who he was. She stopped before entering, trying to regain her composure, in order not to upset Evan. When she thought her face was calm, she knocked gently and went in.

"Good morning." the marshal said seeing her.

"Good morning to you. May I talk to Evan?"

"He's sleeping."

At her quizzical look, Travis continued.

"I suspect he'd had a bad night. When I arrived this morning he looked like a ghost."

"Let him sleep. May I talk to you?" Rachel asked.

"Of course, let's go outside."

When they were outside, Rachel demanded.

"I saw a man walking away. Was he the judge?"

"Yes. His Honour Matthew Grey." the marshal acknowledged.

"How's he?"

"As a man or as a judge?"

"Both."

"A good man, though and honest."

"Do you think he would listen?"

"Yes. He always pays attention to all the facts. I cannot know how he is going to judge, but he cannot be fooled or threatened. The hearing begins tomorrow at 11.00, in the Saloon."

"May I come a little sooner to bring something for Evan to shave and fresh clothes?"

"Yes, but don't be late. The judge hates people coming late."

"He's right. I'm going to do some shopping at the store. Would you please tell Evan if he wakes up that I'll be back soon?"

"Of course." Travis answered taking Rachel's hand with sympathy. "Don't lose you faith."

"Thank you." Rachel replied sadly and stepped down the porch, towards the General Store.

Reilly was at the General Store buying some cigars, when he saw Rachel coming in, alone. She looked distracted and he took the occasion to step closer, cornering her near the shelf filled with soft fabrics she was observing. She jumped in surprise when he caught her wrist, but soon regained her composure.

"Stay away from me." She hissed but the man didn't comply.

"Why? Do you reserve your cares only for those smelling of Indian? Look at me, I'm a pure breed white man." Reilly replied, grimacing.

"You're a snake of the purest breed. Now if you don't care about your useless life, go on squeezing my wrist, otherwise I'll suggest you to take a look down." Rachel said smiling.

Reilly dropped his gaze and saw that she was holding a bowie knife aimed at his gut.

"You won't dare."

"Would you bet your life on it?"

"Is everything all right, Madam?" the shopkeeper asked grabbing the shotgun she kept under the counter.

"Yes, Madam. This gentleman thought I was a friend of his, but he was wrong. He's going away."

Cursing under his breath, Reilly let her go and stepped backward. He angrily put down the cigars and went out, slamming the door behind his back.

"Unpleasant man." the shopkeeper observed.

"A real bastard." Rachel added, regretting that he had surrendered so soon, suddenly frightened at her own thoughts.

"Do you have men's white shirts?" she asked.

"Size?"

"Big. He's six feet tall and broad-shouldered." Rachel explained showing with her hands what she meant. The other woman went into the back and returned with some shirts she put on the counter. Rachel got closer and after a short examination chose the largest. She raised it and put it near her breast, laughing as she saw that it would have been a nightgown for her small size.

"You have a really big husband if he fills such a shirt." the shopkeeper observed with a smile.

"He's not my husband, yet, but I hope. Do you have combs?"

"Women's or men's?"

"Men's. Robust. His thick wavy hair is quite hard to tame." Rachel said recalling how good it had felt running her hands through it.

"Broad-shouldered with wavy hair? Don't tell me that he's blue-eyed or I'll steal him from you." the older woman asked grinning.

"Yes. Green-blue eyes." Rachel admitted shyly.

"Should you change your mind, would you please give him my address? I have a daughter of the right age and it would be nice having such a son-in-law."

"I'm afraid that I won't change my mind, but should this happen. I'll remember your words."

The older woman wrapped the shirt up and sold it to Rachel with a rebate, smiling.

"Remember my daughter." she added waving Rachel goodbye.

Rachel was still frightened about the upcoming trial, but the shopkeeper had cheered her up a little. As she returned to the jail she found Evan awake. From the look on his face, she understood that he knew. Hiding her fear, she painted on a smile and stepped into the cell.

The following day, Rachel came to the marshal's office one hour before the given time. She had brought a carpet bag for what he might have needed. The marshal was already at his desk and greeted her warmly.

"He's waiting for you."

She nodded in reply and waited for him to open the cell, then stepped in. Evan was sitting on the cot and looked surprisingly good, as if the thought of coming to and end could have been a consolation, whatever the outcome. She sat next to him and helped him take off his shirt. She checked her work and while he was still in pain, he looked better. She offered to shave him because his mending ribs had an odd way to announce their displease on being used. During her ministration she felt his even gaze on her and every now and then she blushed under it. She helped him put on the new shirt, smiling at the memory of the shopkeeper's words and when he was dressed she grab the comb.

"May I?" she asked.

"I can do it by myself and you've already done too much for me."

She went closer, whispering in his ear.

"I know that you can, but this is something I have been dreaming of ever since our first meeting."

"We're twin souls. I have been dreaming of something similar." he answered and his face enlightened. Rachel proceeded combing his hair, softly singing a tune, as she used to do when combing her daughter and they both seemed oblivious of the rest of the world. Watching the woman working on the prisoner's thick crop, the marshal felt a tinge of envy, thinking of his bald head. Thank God his Rosie had always said she didn't like men with too much hair and he loved to think that she wasn't lying. He suddenly decided to leave his guests alone and went outside, careful not to make the hinges squeak.

"I think I'll start purring." Evan said after a few minutes of Rachel's treatment.

"Wolves don't purr."

"Go on like this and I'll learn how to."

Evan put his hands around her waist, gently placing her on his lap.

"You smell so good. You have the scent of all the good things." he said leaning to kiss her hair, her forehead, her lips.

"You smell of wilderness." she replied as their mouths parted "of things yet to be discovered."

"I love you Rachel."

"I love you, too."

They stared at each other, then she stood up, brushing his cheek with her hand. He grabbed it and stood up, too. The hinges squeaked and the marshal got in. Rachel left the cell, while Travis retrieved something from a drawer.

"I don't like having to do this, but I must handcuff you, to bring you out of here." he said producing a pair of shackles. Evan presented his wrists without a word to the marshal who bound them, taking care not to hurt him.

"Thank you." Evan said gazing at him.

"For what? I'm shackling you, to bring you to undergo to a trial and you thank me. Why so?"

"Because you listened to me and you treated me fairly. I didn't hope that much."

"I have to gain my place in Purgatory and your words may come handy someday." the man replied lightly, leading Evan out of the cell. Together with Rachel they went to the saloon without hurrying.

The main room of the building was crowded. A trial for murder was something different from the average hearings taking place and watching Judge Grey administering the justice was always a big show. When the prisoner came in accompanied by the marshal and a woman, the crowd grew silent for a while, before starting to gossip and to whisper. Many speculation had been made and now everybody was comparing them with the truth of this big man with his sad blue eyes. Noticing how he moved some wondered if there was something wrong. All the noises ended abruptly as the judge entered. Everybody stood up and the voice of the owner of the saloon acting as justice's clerk announced:

"His Honour Judge Matthew Grey opens his hearing."

When the magistrate was on his desk the crowd sat down and the trial began.

The judge perused his papers before lifting his head toward Evan. The prisoner held his gaze without blinking, avoiding a challenge or a threat, just looking wary. Grey nodded to the clerk and he spoke.

"The defendant stand up."

Evan complied with care, leaning on the desk in front of him. The judge observed the maneuver with interest.

"Tell us your name."

"Evan Foster."

"All right Mr. Foster. Do you know that you're charged for the murder of three people. How do you declare yourself?"

"Innocent, your Honour."

Grey shot him a bemused look:

"Do you mean you didn't kill them?"

"No, I did, but it wasn't murder. I bested them in fair fights and I had reasons for my actions."

The judge observed him, his figure, his eyes, his hands supporting him, a slight tremble in his arms.

"Is there something wrong with you? Are you unable to stand up?" he asked at the end of his examination. At Evan's silence, Grey asked the marshal:

"Why is he in these conditions? Did he resist to being arrested?"

"No, he spontaneously presented himself in my office."

"So what?"

"He said he'd been beaten on his way here by the brother of one of the men he killed."

"He lied." Reilly shouted, standing up. "He told you a moving story to make you sympathize with him. He's not that bad, he had no signs on his face."

At these words, Evan turned to him, his eyes gleaming with rage, then he looked at the judge.

"Your Honour" he said in a deep growling tone "the only reason why I still have a face is because after having me hanging like a sack from a tree, he found it difficult to reach my face. He just wanted to kill me, having some fun in the process."

"Can you provide us with the evidence of your words?"

"I have a whole lot of evidence" Evan hissed unbuttoning his shirt with haste. He clenched his teeth for an operation that in normal conditions would have been easy, but shackled and with some only half healed ribs, it was quite a feat. As he had undone his shirt, he opened the folds showing his battered chest to the judge.

"Would you please come closer Mr. Foster? My eyes aren't as good as they used to be." The magistrate said and Evan slowly complied. Those who were closer saw the wounds and some gasped stunned. After having reached the judge's desk, Evan stood stock-still, gazing behind the man's back.

"It's enough Mr. Foster. You can cover yourself and return to your place. Thank you. Mr. Reilly I can understand that the death of a brother can make someone mad, but you had no right of doing this. Don't try something similar again or you'll be the next to be judged. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, your Honour." Reilly muttered.

"Well Mr. Foster. You said that you killed those men in fair fights and that you had reasons for it. Would you please explain to the court what you mean by that?"

Evan struggled to stand up again but Grey stopped him.

"I allow you to stay seated. Turning you into a martyr won't be of great help to justice."

Evan stiffed his spine on the chair and started his narration. His deep voice echoed in the room turned silent, while he talked about his return home after a horse fair. He had found the fences and the barns empty and a dreadful silence. The door of his house was open and he had felt a sudden fear crossing the threshold. In the kitchen he had discovered his wife and son, still embraced. Unless for the blood of the single shot that had killed them both, they seemed just to have fallen asleep in a strange place. He had cradled them in his arms before preparing them for the burial, according to his wife's traditions. He had dressed her in the deer dress she had worn when they got married, braided her long black hair and put her and their son under a tree, a few feet from the ground. He had sung songs of grieving, ending the rites with a prayer to his father's god.

Then he had returned home.

He had found the traces that the killers hadn't bothered to hide. They led westward. He had rode into town to speak with the marshal. He had tried to convince him to help him find the culprits, but the lawman had raised objection and Evan had decided to take the law in his hands.

At this point, the judge silenced Evan, turning toward Johnson.

"Did he come to your office to report what had happened?"

Johnson startled being questioned by the judge.

"Yes, he did." he answered in a whisper.

"Would you please raise your voice? Nobody will chasten you for this." the judge asked ironically and the marshal blushed. Giggles sounded in the audience.

"Why did you choose not to help him?"

"I told him that it had been an Indian attack and that I hadn't enough men for such a quest."

"An Indian attack of three men with shod horses?" Evan interrupted "I told him that this wasn't possible, but he preferred to close his ears."

"He had no evidence." Johnson replied weakly.

"No evidence? Indians don't ride horses broken to saddle and they would never have stolen my animals. Those I found on my horses' backs weren't Indians, your Honour and the brother of one of them is riding one of the pieces of evidence. Ask him where he got his palomino." Evan ended in a contemptuous tone.

"That horse was the last gift from my brother." Reilly spat.

"Is the horse marked?" Grey asked Reilly.

"Yes, three stars in a circle."

"Mr. Foster, were your horses marked?"

"Yes, all of them, with three stars in a circle. The marshal knows that because he keeps the records of all the breeders of the county."

"You told him so when you denounced the theft of the animals and the deaths of your wife and son?"

"Of course, but he choose not to listen!"

"He's lying" Reilly said angrily "my brother bought that horse."

"I never sold anything to your brother. Neither the palomino, nor the other horse he was riding when I found him. And that was the first and last time I met him."

"Apart from the mark that can be altered, are you able to otherwise identify the horse?"

"Yes, he has a lighter spot of hair at the base of his neck, hidden by the mare. And he knows me, I helped his mother to foal him and I broke him to saddle."

"Marshal Travis, did the prisoner have the chance to see the horse closely?" the judge demanded.

"No, he didn't. When Mr. Reilly came to my office, Mr. Foster just asked what horse he was riding and I told him that it was a palomino, but he hadn't the chance to actually see the animal."

"Mr. Reilly, is your horse within reach?"

"Yes, he's in the stables on the other side of street."

"Would you please go and fetch him?"

"But why?"

"An experiment."

The judge pronounced his words showing no emotions, but with a commanding note clearly recognizable. Though against his will, Reilly gestured to one of his henchmen to comply. While the guy stepped out, whispers came from the public, while a spark of hope began to burn in Rachel. Listening attentively to all what had been said, she had discovered that the marshal hadn't been wrong about the judge. She looked at Evan. She knew that he was having a bad time because of his conditions, but he nonetheless appeared ready for the fight. His attention was elsewhere, but she saw the light that made his eyes shine and smiled. A sound of hooves announced that the horse had been retrieved.

"Marshal Travis, would you please accompany the defendant outside? Mr. Reilly, you can come with us. The others are requested to remain here." Grey said standing up, heading for the porch. Travis went close to Evan, grabbing his elbow to help him on his feet. The shackled man's steps were cautious but steady as they reached Reilly and the judge outside. Evan moved toward the horse. The animal turned his head hearing the sound of feet on the wooden steps. Evan whispered something and the rubbed his nozzle on him as if to ask for caresses. Evan complied always talking to the horse, reaching for the base of his mane.

"Your Honour, would you please come closer?" he asked revealing the lighter spot on the animal's skin. Evan took the opportunity to check the beast, his legs and mouth. After the examination he said to Reilly:

"I'm glad that, at least, you have a better touch with animals, than with people. He's in excellent condition."

"Mr. Reilly." the judge asked at that point "Did you brother tell you where he got this horse?"

"No, he didn't. He just said it was a gift for me. And we only have the word of this half-Indian that he didn't sell the horse to my brother, changing his mind afterwards."

"Half-Indian?" Grey asked intrigued. "What do you mean by that?"

"Don't you see that he's dressed like an Indian and he thinks like one of them?" Reilly objected.

"And this ought to make a difference? His garb may look odd, but he's been charged for murder, not for befriending Indians. This is not a crime, as far as I know. Now, let's return inside. The hearing must continue."

When everybody had returned to their places, the judge asked marshal Johnson.

"Before the accusation of murder, did Mr. Foster have problems with the law or was he known as a violent one?"

Johnson looked at Reilly before answering and the judge, catching the movement, demanded coldly:

"Is this question so difficult to deserve a consultation? Must I repeat or spell it?"

"No, your Honour. I'm sorry. No, Foster never started troubles. He was known to be someone not to trifle with, but he never caused problems, but people may change."

"Especially if somebody slaughters their family." Rachel couldn't help saying under her breath. Hearing her words the judge gave her a severe look. She blushed a little, but didn't regret a thing.

"Mr. Johnson, do you know if the defendant used to wear weapons, or was ready to draw them?" Grey continued.

"As far as I know, he had a rifle and sometimes I saw him with bow and arrows, but I don't remember him wearing a gun. But I cannot be sure about this. I didn't know him very well. He lived with his squaw far from town."

"She was my wife, not my squaw." Evan corrected him angrily.

"Yes, his wife."

"Bow and arrows? Amazing. " the judge observed before addressing Evan.

"Did you kill someone, for whatever reason, before or after those three men? Before giving your answer, I must warn you that I'm really good at discovering lies."

Evan looked at him.

"I had no intention to lie. Marshal Johnson was right. He didn't see me with a gun because I never felt the need to own one. I had a rifle and bow and arrows for hunting, but never a gun. I bought one after having spoken with him and his refusal to help me. At first I didn't know how to handle it, but when I was on the tracks of the killers I made a lot of practice, discovering to have good reflexes."

"Why did you buy a gun if you didn't know how to use it?"

"Because I wanted justice and to do this I decided to give them a chance, the one that they didn't give my family."

"Mr. Johnson, as far as you know, did he kill someone else there after?"

"As far as I know, he didn't, but I have no evidences, in one sense or another."

"Of course. Now," the judge said watching his clock "since it seems that half of the town is here to pry, I defer the hearing at 9,00 tomorrow."

He stood up and everybody else did the same and the first hearing was abruptly over. Marshal Travis fetched Evan, bringing him back to the jail and Rachel followed them. As they stepped out of the door, gossip and comments rose like a tidal wave, sounding up to the roof.

The adrenaline rush that had sustained Evan during the hearing was beginning to recede and he felt very tired. After days of rest, his body shouted its protest for all this movement and he was more than happy to return to his cell. After the removal of the shackles he stepped unsteadily toward the cot, where he collapsed, breathing heavily. He had closed his eyes just a moment, when something was put in his right hand. He opened his eyes discovering that Travis had given him a glass of whiskey.

"This will help." the man said grinning and Evan smiled in reply, gulping down the booze. It burned all the way down to his gut, but the marshal was right. It helped.

"You know how to entertain your guests." Evan added returning the glass.

"Most of times, the problem with my guests is that they had had a bit too much fun, but you seemed to really need this."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." the marshal gestured to Rachel to reach Evan into the cell and closed the door behind her back. She was seated on the narrow cot, holding Evan's hand when the door was slammed open and Reilly got in like a storm.

"Ah! I know it! Why is this woman in the cell with the prisoner? They may be plotting to escape."

"Mr. Reilly, did I miss something? Did someone appoint you as marshal, without telling me? Or did Judge Grey bestow on you the power to check my doings?" the marshal asked coldly.

"No, but..."

"Well, that being stated let me clarify something to you. I don't like your attitude to think that this town and its inhabitants belong to you and that you're entitled to come in my office, telling me what I can or I cannot do. Strange as it may seem to you, I've been doing this job without your help for many years and I'm good at it. This town elected me many times and I'm not too happy to see my job questioned without reasons. You're not the master here and I demand the respect I've given to you. Therefore, if you have something important to let me know talk, otherwise remove yourself from my office."

"You don't know whom you're talking to."

"A coward who hasn't got he guts to face an enemy without the support of his hired men." Evan observed. Reilly got closer to the bar, hissing to the man inside.

"Don't be too sure of your safety. For the moment these bars are protecting you, but you and your mistress won't be safe forever. She'll have to get out, sooner or later."

Evan was so fast that the gun in his hand seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Reilly looked briefly at his now empty holster, then at the prisoner who had armed the weapon.

"It's different now, Reilly, isn't it?" Evan asked in a deep throaty voice that sent shivers down to Rachel's spine. "You're alone and harmless. How will you keep up your threats now that nobody's here to support you? I could kill you where you are and all that your money would give you, would be a rich burial."

All of a sudden Evan put the safety catch back.

"Rachel, would you please stand up?" he asked gently. When, still shocked, she complied, he, too, stood up and stepped toward the marshal who had followed the scene ready to act. Evan handed the gun over to him, saying:

"Marshal, somebody very uncareful has lost this. I don't want to be accused of theft, in addition to murder."

Travis took the weapon without speaking. He removed the bullets before giving it back to Reilly who appeared still really scared.

"Go away and don't return to make threats. You see how unhealthy this could be for you." he finally said, looking at the other man. Reilly nodded shaking a little and went out with considerable haste. Travis turned to the cell.

"Don't do that again. I could have killed you." he said to Evan who had returned to the cot. "You're already deep in trouble, even without this."

"He'd have been in trouble if he had dared touching Rachel."

"I'm not saying that, given the situation, I wouldn't have done the same, but I cannot allow you to kill someone under my roof. It doesn't matter how much he annoys me, or how much I hope you'll go out of this innocent as a child. Don't make me shoot you!"

"You're right. You're the law, but, since I cannot protect her while I'm here, could you please prevent him from getting too close to Rachel? I'm afraid he could choose to hurt me through her and I'd prefer being dead than this." Evan asked gravely.

"He won't. I'll keep my eyes open."

"Gentlemen," Rachel interrupted the dialogue "would you please stop talking about me as if I weren't here? I'm fully capable of taking care of myself. I did it quite nicely before knowing both of you."

"I know this Rachel, but Reilly has shown himself capable of everything to have his vengeance and I'd like to know that you're safe even though I'm here." Evan said taking her hand. He held her half angry gaze without blinking and her expression softened.

"I must go now. Emily is waiting for me."

"How's she? I miss her so much."

"She misses you, too. She'd like to come here."

"I'd prefer her not to. I don't want her to see me like that. This could upset her."

"You're right, but she told me to tell you that she's waiting for you. I also have warm greetings for you from Priscilla. Her payback worked fine."

"How?"

"As far as I've heard she filled her brother's socks with stinging nettle. He's still having a hard time walking."

Evan began to giggle, then - wrapping his arms around his torso - he exploded into laughter and Rachel did the same, making the cot creaking.

"May I know what is so funny?" Travis asked puzzled.

"A little friend of my daughter's was bothered by her brother's jokes. Evan suggested her a payback and it seems as she had learned the lesson quite well."

"You're dangerous." the marshal said joining them in the mirth, while he unlocked the door of the cell. Rachel waved a goodbye and returned to the camp.

"Matthew" said the judge's wife "I almost forgot. This afternoon a man came with a parcel for you. I put it on your desk."

"Who was this man?"

"I don't know. I don't know him. He was of middle height, fair hair, brown eyes."

"Thank you, I'll have a look at it later."

After dinner, the judge went into his office, where he found a small parcel on the desk. He took it, swaying a little, but it didn't produce telltale sounds. Grabbing a paper knife he cut the ribbon and the paper discovering a wonderful golden clock. He recognized one of the best items of the local general store that he had admired when it had arrived. The owner of the shop knew that he liked clocks and had offered it at a fairly good price, but always too much for a whim, in his opinion. Under the clock there was a note.

"/A small sign of my admiration for you and your job/." it read. It was signed Lester Reilly.

Grey turned the note, adding a comment, put it and the clock back into the box and closed it.

"Anne, I'll be back soon. I've something to do."

He went outside. The night was lukewarm and he enjoyed the walk to the saloon. When he entered, some greeted him, others seemed bothered of having been caught, but he didn't pay attention to them. He headed to the bar, handling the parcel over to the bartender.

"Good evening your Honour. A shot of whiskey?"

"No, Ray, not now. Would you please give this to Lester Reilly?"

"He was around a few minutes ago."

"I don't want to meet him. Just give him the parcel, please."

"All right. As soon as I see him."

"Thank you, Ray. See you later."

The judge waved a good-bye and returned home.

"/Don't do it again./" the note read.

Reilly crumpled it up angrily, before tossing it into the fire.

The second hearing had drawn even a bigger crowd than the day before, and the saloon business was booming. When the judge entered the sell of booze ended and the hearing began.

"Mr. Foster, yesterday you told to this court a part of your story. Would you please continue?"

After having taken a deep breath, Evan started to speak.

"I tracked the men who had murdered my family and I discovered that they had chosen different directions. I decided to follow one of them in his journey westward. I reached him in a town called Amosville, while he was boasting his feat in a saloon. He was riding one of my horses and was showing the necklace I had given to my wife for our wedding. I challenged him and, at first, he was stunned. He didn't seem to realize that he had committed something he'd be asked to answer for. He finished his beer and came out laughing with those he had paid a drink to. We went in the street and drew. I was faster, he died."

"Did the local marshal know about the challenge?" the judge asked.

"Yes. He came soon after the fight and after having questioned the attenders, he let me go away with the dead man's horse that was actually mine. With the second man it was pretty much the same thing. I found him at a horse market in Rowan, trying to sell two of my horses. I challenged him, too, and while he was faster than the other one, I bested him. Also in this case nobody argued about my doings. I sold the horses he had stolen and the other I had with me."

"Cannot it be possible that Mr. Reilly's brother bought the palomino at the same market?" Grey asked.

"No, because those were three mares."

"Can you supply us with an evidence of your words?"

"You can wire to the marshal of that town, 'cause he bought one of the horses for his wife."

"All right, please continue."

"Finding Reilly's brother was harder because he had money and power and he had been warned that I was on his heels. He managed to hide his traces, but I learned how to track since childhood, so I found him anyway in a village called Pilgrim's Rest. When I finally challenged him, he tried to cheat, drawing too soon and hurting me slightly, but I won."

"What about the local authorities?"

"The marshal attended the duel and he said I was right. I moved from that town to return to report to my wife's family what had happened and I remained with them a few months. When I left Indian territories I was arrested for murder. When I met the caravan, they were bringing me home to be hanged."

"Why are you so sure of this, if you had the evidence of your innocence?"

"In Reilly's town? He owns the whole town and the law. Johnson is the living proof of his power. I wouldn't have had a single chance to escape the gallows. He had convinced everyone that I was guilty. I would never have had a fair trial. Nobody would have listened to the words of a squaw man who had killed three white men to have justice for an Indian woman and her half-breed whelp."

"If my eyes are not betraying me, you, too, look a white man well enough, notwithstanding your tan." The judge observed.

"Not in Reilly's eyes, I'm afraid."

"And what happened then?"

"While we were reaching a way to return home, we were assaulted. I was shot and lost consciousness. When I wake up I was hosted in the caravan where I remained until Reilly found me."

"Is there someone in this room who can confirm this man's words?" Grey asked at this point.

Some raised their hands, Rachel included. The judge looked at her briefly, but choose to pose his questions to Jonathan.

"What's your name?"

"Jonathan Hall."

When did you meet the defendant?"

"We were on our way when we were reached by a marshal and two deputies with a man in chains. They asked to make their camp next to ours. The next morning they left at dawn. In the afternoon we found out that they had fallen into an ambush. The marshal and the deputies had been killed and stripped of their clothes and everything that could be stolen. Foster had been shot but he was still alive and we brought him back to the camp, then we buried the others."

"Could he have had a part in the ambush?"

"No, he had his wrists and ankles shackled and so he still was when we found him under his dead horse, unconscious. I guess he hadn't been robbed either because it was unhandy stripping a man wearing manacles, or the criminals weren't interested in Indian clothes."

"What happened next?"

"Mrs. Hamilton cured him and he remained with us from that moment. We held a counsel to decide if he could remain and after having heard his story, it was decided to accept him on probation."

"Did he give you reasons to worry, or did he cause trouble?"

"No he didn't. After the early days, he went to stay with Mr. Nolan. He helped us when we had a meeting with a group of Indian warriors. It came out that the chief was a friend of his, and we were able to cross their territory without problems. The chief gave him bows and arrows, but, as far as I know, he used them only for hunting."

"Did he try to leave the caravan?"

"No, he didn't. At first he was too bad to go away, afterwards he had reasons to stay." Jonathan added with an ironic smile.

"Reasons?"

"Yes, he found a sweetheart."

At these words, both Evan and Rachel blushed and the judge hid a grin. He had to silence the giggling arisen, before going on with the hearing.

"Can you confirm Mr. Foster's words about his present conditions?"

"Yes, I can. He was not far from the camp with a child helping her with a colt he had given to her, when he told her to return to the camp, saying that he had something to do. Emily did what he had suggested, but she had nonetheless the impression that something was wrong. She spoke to her mother and a group went to the place where she had left him. We found him hanging from a tree, bound and gagged. He was half fainted, badly battered by Reilly who had a broad smile painted on his face. It seemed as if he was having a lot of fun torturing his prisoner with a hot-red knife. We stopped him just in time and brought Foster back to the camp, where Mrs. Hamilton cured him once again. He remained unconscious for a couple of days, then he slowly recovered. The saddest thing was that before being captured, Foster had asked our chief if the caravan could have made a small detour, to allow him to give himself up to your marshal." Jonathan concluded shaking his head. During the narration Grey had observed the protagonists. Reilly looked angry, even though a cold expression of amusement had curled his lips recalling Foster's pummeling. On the other hand, Foster seemed lost in his thoughts, his eyes fixed on the wall, behind the judge's back.

"Do you know why Mr. Foster had taken such a decision?"

"No, I don't. He didn't explain."

"Mr. Foster, if you were so concerned about the credit that would have been given to your words, why did you decide to give yourself up, renouncing to the safety provided for by your accommodation in the caravan?"

Evan's eyes flickered briefly, then he answered.

"I wanted to have a life again, without having to tremble for every stranger crossing my way and I thought that it could have been better giving myself up where nobody knew neither me, nor Reilly, in order to have at least a chance to be listened to."

"Thank you Mr. Foster and to you Mr. Hall. Now I must find confirmations to what has been said today, so the next hearing will take place tomorrow, at the same time."

Evan's sleep was disturbed by a noise, but as he woke up he couldn't recall what it had been. He opened his eyes, but the room was pitch-black.

"*Not completely*." he thought when he caught a flame under a window near his cell. The fire began to attack a chair. All of a sudden he was fully awake. He stood up, grabbing the cover and Emily's doll and went to the farthest side of his small cell, but he knew that the flames were going to reach him soon. At the ever-changing light of the fire, he looked for something to make noise with, to draw attention from outside. He found a metallic mug he knocked on the bars, producing a rather annoying noise. When the flames got closer, attacking other parts of the furniture, he went as far as possible, easing himself on the floor to take advantage of the few air that had remained there. He started coughing, his still mending ribs aching. He heard something, but he wasn't sure of what it was, until someone started shaking him.

"Get up, we must go our of here." the marshal was shouting in his ears. Evan complied blindly, allowing Travis to lead him out. Half stumbling, they reached first the door, then the porch, ending in the middle of the main road, where Evan fell on his knees, coughing and sputtering, with Emily's doll still in one hand. Near the jail some citizens were building a chain of buckets, to extinguish the fire.

"How do you feel?" Travis asked.

"Lucky of being alive." Evan murmured.

"You are. I usually have a real deep sleep, but tonight I went to bed later than usual. Now, there's only a small problem: what am I going to do with you? I cannot let you sleep in the open, chained to a tree."

Evan smiled sadly.

"It wouldn't be my first time. At least I'm sure you would provide me with a blanket."

Travis pondered a little and said.

"You'll sleep at my place. But you must give me your word that you won't try and escape. I don't want to keep someone prisoner in my house."

"You have my word."

"All right. Come with me and bring your lady with you." The marshal said pointing at the doll. Both men walked to the house that was just a few buildings from the office. They were welcomed by Travis' wife who started to fuss over her husband to reassure herself that he was fine.

"Rosie, please calm down, I'm fine. Would you please bring some water for our guest?"

At her husband's words, Rosie seemed to realize the presence of someone else with him.

"I'm sorry David, I was so worried about you. Welcome to our home Mr. Foster. You look awfully tired. Please wait for me here." she said hurrying to the kitchen. Evan started shaking and Travis helped him sit down. Rosie was back soon with a tray with two glasses, an ewer of water and a bottle of whiskey. She poured water to Evan and whiskey to her husband and left the room again. She was back producing a wet towel that she handed over to Evan who accepted it gratefully. He washed and cooled his face, then started getting up.

"If I remain I'm afraid I'll fall asleep right here. I think I'll accept your offer for a bed, right now." he said weakly. Travis helped him to reach the guests' room that was thankfully near. Evan looked with relief at the bed covered by a wonderfully sewn quilt.

"Not to disdain my previous accommodation, but your wife is a better host." he said teasingly.

"She usually has better guests." the marshal replied smiling. "Before slipping into the bed, take off those dirty clothes, or you will make a mess."

Evan nodded in agreement and began undoing his shirt.

"Thank you." he said as Travis stepped out, closing the door behind his back. He finished to undress and he took just the time to put his clothes on a chair near the bed, before easing himself onto the soft mattress with a sigh. He was simply exhausted, but sleep seemed hard to conquer. He laid in the dark, his eyes open, his heartbeat echoing wildly in his ears. His body ached, but this wasn't the main reason. The thought of the hearing of the day after frightened him and filled him with anticipation at the same time. In the middle of the turmoil of thoughts he started to think of Rachel. Just recalling the memory of her made him feel better, her sweet face, the light touch of her hands, her voice. He remembered the lullaby she once had sung for him and with her voice in his mind he finally fell asleep.

When Rachel arrived at the marshal's office, she was in the dark of what had happened and she stared stunned at the smoking ruins of it. A cold fear grasped her heart as she dismounted. She jumped in surprise when someone said behind her.

"He's fine. He's sleeping in my guests' room."

She turned seeing Travis smiling at her.

"Reilly must have decided to close his accounts anticipating the judgment, with the help of a small fire. Thank God, Evan managed to draw my attention and I took him away just in time. A bit smoked, but safe."

Rachel sighed with relief and said.

"May I see him?"

"Of course. I hope you have brought fresh clothes, because I'm afraid that those he had are a bit messy."

"Oh yes."

"My house is up there."

"Thank you marshal. Thank you very much."

Travis nodded a goodbye and continued on his way, while Rachel hurried to his house. She knocked at the door and was welcomed by a blond woman with a friendly smile.

"Good morning Mrs. Travis. I'm Rachel Hamilton. I've met your husband and he gave me his permission to see Mr. Foster."

"Yes, he told me that you would come. Please come inside."

The woman made her room and Rachel followed her inside.

Travis arrived at the judge's place half an hour before the hearing to report what had happened. The magistrate listened attentively before asking.

"Suspects about the culprits?"

"Reilly or one of his men. Not the marshal. That man is afraid of his own shadow, he would never have had the guts to do something like this."

"Find the evidences and it'll be my pleasure to make him pay for that. That fool tried to buy me with a golden clock."

"From his point of view he's right. He has always behaved like this and everything worked fine. Why should he think that his conduct was wrong?"

"You're right and this makes me dislike his attitude even more. Did he pay the bounty?"

"Not yet."

"Make him pull out the money before the hearing. I'm afraid he won't be so much pleased of the outcome."

"Are you going to absolve Foster?"

"Yes. I've just received a cable from the marshal of Rowan where he sold his horses and another from Pilgrim's Rest. They confirm his version."

"I'm really glad to hear this. I'd have hated having to hang him. That said, would you mind if I bring him without manacles? The chains are gone in the fire and he gave me his word not to escape."

"Why don't you use a rope?"

"He's not one of his horses!"

"I know, I was just teasing. You're becoming too soft, my friend. It's the first time I see you sympathize with a man charged for murder."

"You're right, but his story made me sick with rage. He's been through things that could have turned him into a monster and with cause, but he was a good man and he managed to remain so."

"Do you wish to marry him?"

"I'm afraid our ladies wouldn't agree. Have you met Foster's woman, Rachel?"

"That small brunette who's always not more than two steps from him? She may give the impression of being as tiny as a dream, but I suspect she's as tough as him."

"She is. The shopkeeper told me that once Reilly attempted to frighten her, cornering her in the shop. She didn't waste her time asking for help. She produced a bowie knife and convinced him to go away."

"I like her way! They are a perfect match. Now, let's get serious. Tell them nothing. Firstly, I'd like to see their faces, secondly I don't want to warn Reilly. He's a dangerous coward and I don't want problems with him."

"All right. See you later."

"See you later."

Before the hearing, Travis returned to his home to fetch Evan and to deliver the bounty to Rachel. She took the money feeling uneasy. It was a lot of money, but she wasn't sure if she should take it.

"If this may help, Reilly wasn't too happy of you being the recipient. He muttered and argued and when he finally gave me the money, he looked really angry. And he'll feel even worse when I charge him for the fire in my office." the marshal said smiling.

"Will you give me a voice when you arrest him? It's a pity you don't use his method with prisoners. I would have helped with joy."

"You little devil. Now let's go. Someone's is waiting for us."

Evan approached moving his sleeves up to be chained, but Travis stopped him.

"This is not necessary. Since the chains are gone with the jail, I asked the judge's permission to bring you without and he agreed."

Evan and Rachel smiled and followed him outside, trying not to think about the end of the day and what it may bring.

Words of what had happened at the marshal's office had spread like wildfire and all those that had come for the trial were gossiping like crazy. Watching the marshal safe and sound, as well as the prisoner, confirmed some voice, denying other. When Reilly entered with his henchmen, all the eyes turned to him. He glared at Evan, who answered with a cold glance. Reilly tightened his lips, burning with an anger increased by the fact that his brother's murderer was unchained. Nonetheless he kept his feelings hidden, there would have been time to settle everything, even with the marshal. While he was nursing his thoughts of revenge, the judge got in and the hearing began.

"Mr. Foster, please stand up to hear my sentence."

Evan complied without showing his inner turmoil.

"You came here charged for the murder of three people. You admitted the killings, but not the murder. I've listened to your words and perused the evidences and I've come to my decision. You had been seriously wronged by those who killed your family, as well as by the law that refused you what you were entitled to. By addressing to the marshal before giving chase to the murderers, you have shown more respect for the law, than the marshal himself, who for cowardice decided to ignore you and what happened to you. The men you killed ought to be judged by the law, but given the situation they would never have been charged for their crime. Fair fights aren't against the law and you gave them a chance. For all these reasons, I absolve you from the charge of murder. You're free Mr.Foster."

Hearing his last words, Evan froze, seemingly unable to believe, then his face shone with a bewildered happiness as he looked at Rachel.

"And" the judge continued silencing the whispers that had started to rise "Marshal Johnson, your behavior was abominable. You are a real shame for the badge you're wearing and for the law itself. Your refusal to comply with your duty damaged this man, as well as the image of the law. You're also responsible for the death of the three men who were escorting him. I'll report your doings directly to the Governor of your State and I'll do my best to have you removed from your office. As for you, Mr. Reilly, your behavior was far from righteousness. I have no evidence that you plotted to convince the marshal of your town to act like he did, but I have not a single doubt that you used all your power and money to persecute this man. He had been seriously wronged by your brother and his friends and you added insult to injury giving him chase, making people believe him a murderer and finally torturing him with your own hands. You have no excuse for this. I don't know if your were aware of what your brother did, but since you're riding the evidence of his crime, I resolve that the horse is given back to his rightful owner, i.e. Mr. Foster. Anyway, you won't need it in the next few days, because you and your men must not leave town, until Marshal Travis has discovered who destroyed his office, attempting to burn Mr. Foster alive. This is my sentence."

Those last words were followed by an eerie silence, suddenly broken by the sound of Rachel's chair as she jumped on her feet to reach Evan, hugging him, crying for joy, oblivious of the crowd who was staring at them with keen interest. Reilly stood stock-still, glaring at his foe with eyes full of hatred. Sensing the marshal's gaze on him, he moved his hand from the holster, before abruptly turning and stepping out of the room. Evan was barely aware of what had happened, too intoxicated by the joy and the prospect of a whole new life. He kissed Rachel's forehead, feeling so happy that he thought he was going to explode. Turning his head he saw the judge smiling and he nodded his thanks.

"Now that you're a free man, what are you going to do?" the marshal asked him. Evan didn't answer, but went down on one knee in front of Rachel saying.

"Rachel, would you like to marry me?"

Rachel looked at him stunned, then replied in a rush.

"Yes! Yes! Of course, I'll marry you. But when?"

"Tomorrow, if the preacher has time."

She gasped in surprise.

"Tomorrow. But... but it's too soon. I'll never be ready in time."

"You'll be." Travis teased "Women are always ready for those things."

"Everything will be all right." Evan said getting and, loosing herself in his eyes, she couldn't help smiling.

"May I go now?" Evan asked the judge.

"Yes. The marshal will see that the palomino is handed over to you. It would be better avoiding any contact between you and Reilly."

Foster's gaze grew cold and the judge caught a glimpse of something dangerous and untamed just beneath the surface of civilization he wore most of time. The judge innerly grinned at the thought that it wouldn't have been safe making this man his enemy. Reilly's brother had paid his big mistake with his life.

"*Not that I wouldn't have done the same.*" he added to himself, thinking about how hideous the crime had been. Foster blinked and when he opened his eyes, the wolf had returned deep inside.

"Well. I think it's time to go if we want to meet the preacher." he said gently taking Rachel's hand. She looked at him, her gaze shining and they both stepped out, followed by all the eyes of the attenders. Their departure marked the end of the hearing and all the people started to go out without hurry, commenting the recent events.

Rachel and Evan found the preacher in his small church while he was doing the cleaning. Even if he hadn't participated at the hearing he recognized them and was quite bemused that they were there. As they told him the reason of their presence, a broad smile enlightened his face. He reassured them that the day after at noon it would have been all right for him and they clasped their hands biding each other farewell. Rachel and Evan were stepping out of the door of the church as something caught Evan's attention. With a sudden movement he pushed Rachel to the ground, covering her with his body, just a split second before a bullet hit both of them.

"You've been too bloody lucky for my taste, bastard. You may have fooled that stupid judge, but you won't escape me." Reilly said from the other side of the street. "Get up now, half-Indian, or I'll kill your woman with you. Let yourself be killed and she'll live." he continued and Evan complied keeping his hands in plain sight, while his gaze was locked at the armed man. The door opened and the preacher stormed out.

"What are you doing? How do you dare menacing someone on the threshold of the House of God? Shame on you!" the preacher shouted.

"Don't meddle in this, Reverend. This is none of your business. This man owes me a life and I'm going to take his."

"I will not allow this." the Reverend said, covering Evan with his body.

"Reverend, if you don't move, I'll shoot you. I'd prefer not to, but if you keep trying to protect that bastard, I won't hesitate."

"I thank you for your help, Reverend, but you'd better listen to him. He's perfectly capable of doing what he said." Evan said moving from behind the preacher's back. "Aren't you accustomed to play fairly, are you?" he observed watching Reilly.

"You can say whatever you want, I don't care about your words, as soon as I'll see you dead and this will happen right now." Reilly replied moving the finger on the trigger.

The sound of the shot echoed in the street.

The reverend watched a wound on Reilly's shoulder starting to bleed, while the marshal was aiming his gun at him. Reilly looked at him puzzled, raising his hand to shoot, but he never finished the movement as a bullet reached his heart. He fell slowly on the ground, a stunned look on his dead face. Everyone froze for a minute, then the preacher ran to the body on the opposite side of the street. He reached Reilly and after having verified that he was dead, he began to recite a psalm for the salvation of his soul. Rachel looked at them, then at Evan. He stood stock-still, his eyes fixed on the scene. She got closer, grabbing his hand and he flinched in surprise.

"How do you feel?" she whispered.

"I don't know. I really don't know. I thought that I would have been happy to see him dead, but now I'm only relieved. Now everything's over and I'm free. He won't stand as a deadly curse over me, over us."

Rachel squeezed his hand, without speaking. She shared his feelings, but she was nonetheless grateful to the marshal of having killed Reilly. He had pulled her from one emotion to another, making her fear like never before and just for now, she couldn't help herself thinking that he had had what he deserved. Travis got closer, sheathing his gun.

"Is everything all right with you?" he asked.

"Yes. My heartfelt thanks for the timing."

"I was looking for him to make him return the horse and I followed him here. As you once said, all that his money will give him now is a magnificent burial and nothing else. Now you can have the palomino without problems. He's in the stables." Travis added coldly.

Evan nodded absent-mindedly watching the man lying dead in the middle of the road.

"He's yours." he said then.

"What?" the marshal asked puzzled.

"The palomino. You can keep him, consider him a gift."

"I cannot accept, I'm the marshal and.."

"It's not a bribe, if that is what you're thinking. Now that the trial is over, there's nothing binding me to this town. He's a gift for a friend, if you allow me to consider you as such."

"Of course you are, but it's too much."

"It isn't. Keep him and just say thanks."

"Well, thanks Evan."

"Thanks to you for all you did for me. Will you attend our wedding with your Rosie?"

"Yes, it'll be my pleasure."

Evan nodded and smiled down at Rachel, gently pulling her closer. She rested her head on his chest and so they remained for a while, finally relieved and ready to face their future together without dark shadows and with a hope of love.