Disclaimer: As always, I do not own these characters. Don't sue me.

Poets proclaim that when two people who were destined for each other finally meet, their souls reunite. They complete each other. Stars realign, time stops, women swoon, and birds sing. People have reported getting fever, chills, dizziness, and butterflies.

Wyatt Cain would later describe it as getting the business end of a nasty looking shotgun and hearing foulest words imaginable from the most beautiful lips he had ever seen.

"You have got some nerve!" She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "In broad daylight?"

"Miss," he began slowly, hands raised. "I think there's a misunderstanding here."

"Is there? Then I'm to assume you aren't here to steal more of my father's horses?"

"There was no one at the house." He considered making a play for the gun. If he could knock the barrel away he was probably fast enough to get it from her. She must have read his mind, because she took a step back and cocked the hammer. "Don't do something stupid."

"All right, look." He was only two weeks into this job. So much for a post in the Eastern Territories for a nice, quiet life. "I'm gonna reach over, and show you my badge, okay?"

An eyebrow quirk was the only change in her expression and he assumed she wasn't going to blast him back to Central City. Carefully, he moved his left hand to the lapel of his jacket to reveal the small, tin star pinned to his chest.

She inhaled through her nose and let out a disgusted noise, but didn't put the gun down.

"Miss, I swear, I'm--"

"You must not have the brains the gods gave a goose." The wisp of girl said as she lowered the weapon, easing the hammer back as she did.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Tell me, sir, is it typically your policy to snoop around the barns of people that have just had horses stolen? What are you thinking?"

Before he could answer, a voice called "Adora!" from the edge of the woods. An older gentleman dressed in brown boots and trousers was limping towards them as fast as he could manage, jamming a wooden walking stick into the ground in his haste. "Oh, Girl not again."

Adora seemed to ignore the admonishment in the man's voice. "I wouldn't hold out too much hope for those horses, Dad. It seems the Tin Men, have sent us Mr.--" she gestured to Cain with her gun-free hand.

"Cain." He answered stupidly.

"Cain, who has the mental capacity of a stump." She hefted the rifle against her hip and started away, leaving a dumbstruck Cain and an old man shaking his head, in her wake.

"You'll have to forgive my daughter, Mr. Cain." The old man was saying as they watched her go. "One of the four horses taken was her favorite. She's pretty protective of them." He laughed. "And me, for that matter. The name is George Reed. Please, come up to the house."

Now that she wasn't holding a gun on him, Cain couldn't help but notice that Adora was quite lovely. Those dark blue eyes were not something he was going to forget in a hurry. She was tall and slender, her long legs quite obvious because of the men's trousers she wore. Curly, honey-blonde hair streamed out behind her as she moved from where she had set the gun down on the porch back across to the corral. It was, however, quite obvious that there was nothing but trouble there as she gave him a dirty look before turning away and back to her chores.

He waited for Reed to ascend the steps of the lovely cabin before following him inside. "I thank you for coming so quickly. Usually, takes the barracks a little while to get out here."

Wonder why, with greetings like the one he had just received. But Adora was just one of the reasons. George Reed had garnered a reputation himself. Cain's colleagues described the man as a warlock, spending half of his time in the woods and the other half concocting strange tonics that he would try to pawn off on some poor soul in the nearby town of Grafton.

"It's my pleasure, sir." He removed his hat as he entered the home.

Reed was pulling a pot of coffee off of the fire. He laughed. "No, it's not."

"Sir?"

"You're obviously new to the barracks, Mr. Cain." He had now retrieved cups from the sideboard and placed them on the small wooden table. "You seem more honorable then some. Can you honestly stand there and tell me that you were not simply saddled with the task of coming all the way out here to talk to Crazy Old Reed?"

He had hit the nail square. Captain Higgins had a hard time controlling his mirth when he handed Cain the assignment. "No, I can't honestly say that, sir."

"Oh, I hear people talk." Reed had poured the coffee and motioned to a chair, inviting Cain to sit. "Crazy old coot. Making his strange concoctions. Talking to the animals, arguing for better treatment of our Viewer neighbors."

"Crazy daughter." Cain hadn't meant to say it. It had just slipped out. Reed sputtered a bit in his coffee. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"

"It's perfectly understandable, given the circumstances." The old man was smiling. "But, please, don't judge Adora too harshly. She has a lot on her shoulders, what with an old crippled father and trying to provide for both of us."

Cain nodded. "I understand. But she's going to kill someone, running around here with a gun the way she does."

"Wait here a minute, son." Reed stood and limped through the front door. He was back in a few seconds, the gun in his hand. With a click, the barrel locked down to reveal the chamber.

"It's empty."

"Always is." Reed snicked the chamber closed and leaned the gun against the wall, stock on the floor. "Don't get me wrong. My daughter's a decent shot. But she'd never forgive herself if she hurt someone."

The lawman shook his head. "She could get herself killed, then. It's a dangerous trick to pull on the wrong person."

Reed laughed again. "You've been on the receiving end of it, Mr. Cain. Would you cross her?"

He smiled. The man had a point.

About a half an hour later, Cain emerged from the house with descriptions of the stolen horses and Reed beside him. In the corral, a saddled leopard-spotted horse was loping in circles. Adora was at its center and at her cue, the animal turned to face her, ears pricked as she spoke softly to it.

"A lot of spunk in that one." Reed said with a wistful smile. "Like her mother."

"Spunk. Is that what you call it?" Cain started down the stairs as Reed laughed. "I should be back in a few days, Mr. Reed."

"We'll keep an eye out for you." The old man studied the steps. "The buckskin, in particular, Mr. Cain. Please, find that buckskin filly for her."

"I'll do my best, sir." Cain bid him good-bye and headed to where his gray horse was tied near the corral. Unhitching him from the post, Cain swung up.

Adora was now stroking the horse, but looking at Cain. She was slightly less hostile, but the doubt was still fairly plain on her face. Remembering what Reed had said, Cain merely looked back at her and tipped the brim of his hat.

The small gesture seemed to catch her off guard and the armor of chilly unfriendliness seemed to melt ever-so-slightly. Without a word, he nudged the horse who responded quickly and broke into a lope. He was nearly to the edge of the woods when he drew on the bridle, turned around in the saddle and looked back. Adora was standing on the rails of the corral, leaning on the top board and watching him leave. She quickly disappeared when she saw him look and he grinned.

He did love a challenge, after all.

She did have her reasons. How many times had someone refused to pay a fair price for her horses? How often had she been in town and heard other women whispering behind their hands about odd little Adora who ran around in men's shirts and pants? And then whisper about her father who had apparently raised her with the wolves? How many times had the little man tried to charge her extra when she picked up her grain because he thought her stupid?

Yes, she was defensive. Too, defensive, she'd even admit. But the fact of the matter was narrow- minded people had made her this way.

"Adora!"

She was startled and jumped, clattering her silverware. "What?! Dad, yes?"

He was smiling that goofy, knowing smile. She had been caught. "Would you please pass the jam?"

"Oh, sure." She handed it across to him and tried to pay attention to her own breakfast. She'd barely touched her eggs.

Her father spread some of the jam on a biscuit. "I imagine Mr. Cain will be back soon."

"I suppose." She tried to sound as disinterested as possible.

"Then, perhaps you'll stop staring out the window?"

She was ready for him this time. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." She said smoothly.

"Oh, don't you?" he replied mirthfully as he chewed. "That's the third time this morning you've been looking off to the south and daydreaming."

Adora was not sitting still for this. She gathered her uneaten breakfast and headed for the sink. "I keep trying to calculate my chances of seeing those horses again. I'm coming up at 70 to 1 odds against."

"I'll take that bet." He turned in his chair as she pulled a jacket on. "Perhaps you should have a little more faith in Mr. Cain."

"Perhaps you have too much faith, Dad." Adora pulled the door open, stepped out, and closed it on her father's smiling face. Crazy old coot, she thought as she trotted down the steps and headed for the barn.

So what? She was wondering about her stock. Her father was wrong. It had nothing to do with the Tin Man who had gone after them. Nothing to do with the only man, aside from her father, that had shown her any kind of courtesy in a very long time. Nothing to do with him pulling that hat over those eyes, as gray as the sky before a snowstorm. . .

Stop it, Adora! She ordered herself. She had halted and was once again staring, and gods help her if Dad looked out the window or something.

She started to walk again, pulling her jacket a little closer around her to keep out the chill. Besides, even if he did bring the horses back, that would be it. He wasn't interested in a woman who dressed like a man and had earned a reputation as a lunatic. He'd climb on his horse and ride away. She'd probably never see him again.

This time, when she looked to the south, she finally saw something. The figures of four horses emerged from the shadows of the trees and started down the hill towards her. Adora grinned as they got close enough that she could see the buckskin filly she so cherished buck and throw out her hind legs as if she, too, were glad she was being returned.

Behind them came the Tin Man, driving them home. Adora raced over and opened the gate on the corral. He drove them in easily and drew up his own mount, taking a deep breath. As she shut the gate, the filly came over. Reaching through the rails, Adora scratched her favorite spot, right between the ears. "Mr. Cain, how can I thank you?"

"Just doing my job, Ms. Reed."

She took a deep breath. Time to chow on a bit of crow. "Mr. Cain, I just want to say--" she turned and paused at the sight of him. "Are you all right?"

Those stormy eyes, the one's she had seen so often in her dreams over the past three days, turned to her and she was shocked at the pain behind them. "Mr. Cain?"

He collapsed against the horse, leaving a trail of blood down the stirrup leather. He had hit the ground before Adora could get to him. Quickly, she rolled him over, his front now covered with mud and his blood. Resting his head in her lap, she pulled back his duster and spotted the injury. There was a ragged, bloody hole in the white shirt beneath where the bullet had torn into his shoulder.

"Dad!"

A soft bed was a commodity in the life of a Tin Man. Even those stationed in Central City would be hard pressed to find one some nights. For them, it was chasing criminals until some gods-forsaken time of the morning. For those like Cain, stationed in the Wilderness, it just wasn't practical. One man was expected to cover hundreds of square spans. That meant a lot of time spent on a bedroll.

Still, this was not the way to get a bed.

This was his first thought as he came back to consciousness. The second was that he felt as though he had just got done the grueling recruit obstacle course back at the academy. Every muscle ached.

He hadn't come fully back to himself, eyes not even open, when he heard someone come through the door. He raised his gun, clicking the hammer back in a smooth, easy motion.

There was a slight gasp, followed by an irritated voice. "Do I even want to know how you got a hold of that? I left it on the dresser."

He opened his eyes to see an amused, exasperated Adora Reed standing in the door. He lowered the gun. "Just returning the favor."

"Doesn't matter. I took the bullets out of it." She walked over and held out her hand.

He relinquished the revolver. "It seems you do that a lot."

If she was surprised that he possessed that little tidbit of information, she didn't show it as she put the gun back. "My father has been running his mouth, I see."

"Do you have something against bullets actually in guns?"

"People get hurt that way." Adora sat down on the edge of the bed, checking the dressing on his shoulder. "How does it feel?"

"Not to bad." And it was true. He thought he was going to have to play the "manly man", but in truth, it barely hurt him at all. "Your father didn't give me something, did he?"

"Essence of Linder Root." Adora smiled at the apprehension in his voice. "It builds strength and regenerates muscle tissue. He went to find some more before the snow hits."

"I'll have to thank him when he gets back." Maybe George Reed wasn't such a nut after all. He had been shot before in the leg, which was the main reason he had wanted to get out of Central City. Recovery had hurt like hell. This was a cake walk by comparison.

"We should be thanking you." Adora said. He looked at her in surprise and she smiled timidly. "Those horses do mean a lot to us."

"You're quite welcome, Ms. Reed." He watched her trace the pattern of the quilt covering him with a forefinger, not meeting his eyes. "Was there something else?"

"No—well, yes." She took a deep breath, still not looking at him. "It's just, yesterday, when you came back, I wanted to tell you. . ."

"Yes?"

She looked like she lost her nerve and was grappling with what she wanted to say. After a second, she made an impatient noise and turned those eyes straight on him. "You really don't have the brains the gods gave a goose, do you?"

What just happened? Not that he was one for them, but where was the hero's welcome? She had been on the verge of one and he had to admit he was looking forward to it. He wasn't taking this one lying down. . .so to speak. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, really. Six men? Don't you know when you're outgunned?" Adora pushed off the bed and threw her arms in the air, pacing.

"I got ambushed! What was I supposed to do--"

"Oh, gee, I don't know?" she had crossed her arms. "Run away? Or won't that damn Tin Man pride allow that?"

"Lady, you are a certifiable headcase!"

"Oh, I'm a headcase? I'm a headcase! Compared to what? A man that risks his life for four horses? Your life isn't worth that!"

She stopped short, looking mystified by the words that had just come out of her mouth. Before either of them could speak again, George Reed burst into the room still wearing his coat and carrying his walking stick, the cold radiating off of him. "What is going on in here?"

"I-I," Adora seemed at a loss for words for once. "I was thanking Mr. Cain."

"Sounded like you were tearing him apart." He gave his daughter a reproachful glare. "You know better than to upset a man in Mr. Cain's condition."

"Yeah, Dad. I do."

She looked at the floor instead of at either of them. Reed took a deep breath before addressing Cain. "I apologize again for my daughter's behavior, since she seems incapable of doing so herself." Adora looked as though she wanted to melt through the wooden floor boards. "Give the herbs a few minutes to steep and I'll bring you some more tea."

"I'd appreciate that, sir."

With one last meaningful look at his daughter, Reed closed the door. Adora still refused to look at Cain. "I am sorry."

"What?" It came more from disbelief than from a desire for to repeat the apology.

She wasn't angry, though. Just ashamed. "I said 'I'm sorry.'. You didn't deserve that, just now. And you didn't deserve me shoving a gun in your face the other day, either."

Realizing his mouth was hanging open, he quickly shut it. "It's all right. I understand."

Adora looked up, bemused. "You do?"

"Sure," he decided to try his hand at some light teasing. "You're nuts."

She smiled. She was beautiful when she smiled. "I thank you, for your understanding, Mr. Cain. Still," Cain got the sense he was about get as good as he gave. "I can't be entirely grateful, I'm afraid. You owe me seventy silver coins, friend."

"I do?" Cain grinned as she sat on his bed again. "And why is that?"

She smirked. "Thanks to you, I just lost a bet to my father."