Kid Cole and Sister Ruth had the ease of taking the train back to St. Louis after they safely delivered the brides to San Francisco, and they found themselves across from some very interesting traveling companions.

"I'm Walt Whitman. This is my friend, Pete Doyle."

The Coles introduced themselves as well.

Not much of poetry readers, they'd never heard of Walt before. And Walt not being from the west, had never heard of them. So they had no preconceived impressions of each other; they were simply strangers making conversation.

"Why are you fine people going to St. Louis?" Walt asked.

"We live there though we're hardly ever home. We travel a lot, you see," Ruth explained. Her hand went over top Kid's. "But I imagine we'll be sticking closer to home in the future."

"I am just visiting the fair city. I shall soon call New Jersey home. I'm going to stay with my brother. My health has deteriorated so that I can't live alone."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said genuinely. "I'm a faith healer. Have you tried letting Jesus heal you?"

"It's a thought and maybe not out of the question. Though I'm not what most might call a Christian as I accept all religions as true."

"That's kind of out of the ordinary, ain't it? It may be true that there are bits of truth embedded in other religions, but it's not possible for them all to be right. Jesus says 'No one comes to the Father except by me.' That excludes other religions from being able to get to God, and you can't possibly think that statement's true if you think other religions are true, too."

"I can tell you enjoy a good argument," he said with a glimmer of amusement. He'd carefully sidestepped a response.

"Not really. I prefer it when people agree with me," she said, returning the humor with humor.

He laughed appreciatively.

"I'll pray for your healing, but I can't help you call on Jesus if you haven't trusted Him as your one and only Savior."

"That's alright. It was a nice thought." He looked at Pete. "Lovely little town Colorado Springs was. Such a beautiful place. I miss it already." He looked back at Ruth, remembering her saying they traveled a lot. "Have you been there?"

"A few times. We have some friends there. Dr. Michaela Quinn and Sully. You heard of them?"

"Heard of them? Why Dr. Mike treated me for my condition while I was there."

"She's a good doctor," Kid said. "I speak from experience. Helped me with my consumption. She refuses to give up on a patient even when common sense would say to."

"Indeed. She's the one who convinced me I should send for Pete to make this journey more pleasant and bearable." Walt patted Pete's knee affectionately. It could have been interpreted as a fatherly gesture, but the intimate look that passed between them said differently.

"I think we should find other seats," Kid said to Ruth. "I don't like facing backwards."

She looked at him funny. He'd never cared which way they sat before. He wasn't prone to motion sickness that she knew of.

Kid knew she hadn't caught onto the unorthodox relationship the men shared. She wasn't exactly naive, she frequented saloons in order to share the gospel, but this wasn't a situation one ran across everyday.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear the truth of the matter as delicately as he could.

May 1842

When Sister Ruth and Kid Cole pulled into Taos, a town in Mexican territory, a big crowd was already gathered in the streets. Either a show was going on or a lynching.

As they got closer, it proved to be a lynching and the one they were hanging was a terrified teen.

"Oh, Lord. He's practically a boy, Kid. What could he have done?"

"I don't know, but I know this boy didn't have no fair trial. It's got all the earmarks of a mob."

He handed Ruth the reins and jumped down and away from the wagon, so if he was shot at for what he was about to do, it would be away from his family.

Ruth turned towards the children in the back. "Stay down, Mercy. Keep your brother down too."

Not an easy task as Isaiah wasn't fond of being touched without it being on his own terms, and being only 1, he didn't understand the gravity of the situation, but Mercy didn't back down from her task of keeping him pinned to the floor of the wagon despite his squirming and cries of protest.

Kid shot into the air to grab the crowd's attention. It was a mixed crowd of Hispanics, whites, and Indian wives. They turned together as if they were one giant, seething beast. "What's his crime? I'm willing to make it right if I can."

They obviously thought he was a lunatic and ignored him. One of the men kicked the crates out from under the boy's feet, so the rope would snap his neck, but Kid shot the rope, and the kid fell to the dusty street mostly unharmed except for maybe a sore backside.

"As I was trying to say," Kid said, "if he's stolen something, I'll pay for it."

"And if he'd stolen something, we'd let you," said a man with a blonde mustache, who'd come closer to Kid and become the spokesperson for the mob.

"Well, has he killed somebody?" The boy looked so pale and frightened Kid couldn't picture him as a killer.

"He's guilty of a crime against nature. Against God."

"So he broke no law on the books. What gives you the right to hang him then?"

"I've got every right," said the blonde-mustached man, stepping even closer, so that he was now only a foot from Kid, and drawing his own gun. "I'm his pa. What he's done is unspeakable in the presence of all these ladies, but trust me when I say he deserves to hang."

Kid continued to hold his gun on the father of the condemned. "But they're not too delicate to watch him hang? What's wrong with banishing him? I'd see that he got to another town."

"Banishment's too good for him. Just who do you think you are anyway?" the man asked.

"Kid Cole."

"Well, look here, Mr. Cole...Did you say Kid Cole?"

Kid's hard expression didn't change, nor did his gun waiver, but the other man lowered his gun as Kid said, "I did."

"Well, take him then," he said, putting the gun away altogether. He looked towards the wagon, taking note of his family. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Kid ignored the man's comment and went to help the boy up. A nice-looking young man with hair a shade or two lighter than his pa's and baby blue eyes.

Kid didn't speak to him until he was in the back of the wagon with Mercy and Isaiah and they were heading away from Taos. "What's your name, son?"

"Pleasant."

"Well, Pleasant. You got any plans?"

"No, sir. Um, don't you have business here?" he asked.

"I doubt we'd receive a very warm welcome after saving you though I can't think of a place that needs revival more," Ruth said with a kind smile that showed she wasn't sorry they'd rescued him. "We're heading further westward towards the coast."

"Then that's where I'll go as far west as I can get," Pleasant said. "I mean if you don't mind me traveling with you all that way."

Pleasant's father's warning still echoed in his mind, but he pushed it away. Whatever he'd done, he hadn't hurt anybody. "Of course we don't mind."