The light from the campfire cast playful shadows on the letter Cody held in his hands. But Cody did not notice. Nor was he aware of the soldiers setting up camp around him. He had been sitting on the hard ground, staring at the letter since it was given to him an hour ago. It was a missive from the captain at Fort Laramie asking -- no, ordering -- him to stay with the soldiers until they find the rogue Comanche warriors. God knows how long that would take. The Indians had been leading the army around in merry circles and not even Cody's skill as a tracker could help. Whatever the army did, the Indians were always two steps ahead. 

Cody let out a loud sigh and set the letter aside. He reached for his saddlebag and pulled out package wrapped in brown paper. Carefully, he untied the string and unwrapped the package. Inside was a beautiful, knitted shawl he had bought in Seneca a week ago when they went into town to pick up supplies. While the soldiers had gone straight to the nearest saloon to quench their thirst, Cody had opted to find the telegraph office. He had wanted to send a message to Louisa, but had forgotten his intention the moment he spotted the shawl with its emerald green color and gold threads. It was perfect for his wife. 

Within minutes, he had the shawl wrapped and ready. He had thought about sending it to Sweetwater but had decided he wanted to see Louisa's face when she received it. So, he had kept it with him, storing the brown package in one of his saddlebags. When he felt the overwhelming desire to see his wife, he took out the shawl and imagined his wife's reaction. Just two more weeks, he told himself. Two more and I'll be with Louisa. 

But now it looked like he had to wait longer to see his wife. The army captain was displeased with the group's failure to find the Comanches. No, Cody thought to himself, displeased is much to mild a word to describe the captain's state of mind. The man was downright furious! Cody knew even the soldiers' frustration was growing. He had broken up twice as many fights in the last couple of days than he had in six weeks. The problem was he couldn't really blame his men. He himself felt like decking somebody twice a day.

Feeling his own anger and frustration grow, Cody wrapped the package again and tied the string, his motions jerky. He stuffed the package back into his saddlebag none too carefully, He abruptly stood up and made a beeline towards the horses. On the way, he snagged his deputy -- a very young soldier -- by the collar and motioned for two more soldiers to follow him. 

"Sir?" the young man managed to squeak out after Cody released him and pushed him towards a horse. "Where are we going?"

Cody's voice was low and furious. "To find those goddamn Indians. The sooner we get this thing over with, the sooner I'll be with my wife."

Louisa felt hot tears burn beneath her closed lids but she dared not open her eyes. For to do so was to acknowledge the world and the horrible truth it had waiting for her. She didn't have the strength. She didn't have the will. To face God. Fate. Or whoever took her child away from her. 

And so, with a soft whimper, she closed her eyes more tightly and cried herself to sleep.

Kid watched grimly as the wooden coffin was laid carefully in the ground by the ranch hands. His gaze then skimmed across the wooden cross with the name John DeLauter etched on it to fall on the minister who stood directly across him. The old man leafed slowly through his bible before finding the suitable passages for burying the dead. 

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ... " the minister began in a voice as creaky as his body.

For thou [art] with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me, Kid finished silently. He knew the passages by heart, having been to more funerals than he cared to remember. 
"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over," the minister continued.

Kid noticed none of the men had changed out of their work clothes. It wasn't right, he absently thought as he looked down at his own dusty jacket and pants. But then again, there was nothing right in the whole scene. There was nothing right in burying a young man who was just starting his life. There was nothing right in losing a child.

No, there was nothing right at all. 

Kid wondered how things had spiraled out of control in a matter of weeks. Less than two months ago, he was a happy husband and father expecting his third child, the proud co-owner of a successful ranch and the respected marshall of a peaceful town. 

Now, he was the hunted son of an outlaw father. A marshall who couldn't even protect his own people. 

He scanned the faces of the men and women he was supposed to protect. Morgan's tears flowed unchecked. Garrett's hands were clenched in fury, his eyes unblinking in their focus on the coffin. Paul held a sobbing Rose in his arms. Shock was written across the faces of the younger ranch hands. Mortality was the farthest thing on their minds until their friend died. Ringo looked like he was about to lose his supper, except that he didn't have any yet. George looked mildly amused. Paul's sons, Jim and Richie, were both white-faced.

Kid's gaze snapped back to George as the younger man's expression registered in his mind. Amused? There was no hint of it in George's demeanor now but Kid could have sworn he saw a little smile playing on the blond man's lips. He brought a hand up to rub his tired eyes. God, he was imagining things that weren't there. But his gaze remained on the young man until the service ended.

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