"Start talking." Dick said, sitting on the edge of Ron's bed, staring down at the wounded man, face impassive. Nix, Lip and Roe stood around the bed for the impromptu meeting. "You said Dike's crooked. What did you see?"

"I was down in the Pass' Grove, taking a look around."

Lip's brow furrowed. "Where that third stagecoach was rumored to be held up?"

Ron looked up at him, nodding on his words. "And the drover murdered, yes."

Dick's jaw tightened, shaking his head. "I told you to leave that alone."

"Dick," Ron's voice tightened, his intense eyes diverting back. "It was the third rumored stagecoach hold-up in several weeks. All from different sources, and there's been nothing posted by the marshal service. If it didn't smell rotten before, it sure as hell does now."

"I don't care." Dick's voice was equally hard. "You still didn't listen."

"You already knew I wouldn't." That had indeed been something Dick had already known. It was usually something he always valued in Ron. Once the man had the faintest whiff of a scent, he would run it to ground. Wherever it lead. For better or worse. "That aside," Ron continued, "that wasn't where they saw me. But the Grove is a goddamn gold mine of recent activity. They weren't even trying to hide their tracks. And they shouldn't if they know no one is looking for them."

"Wait…," Nix ran an anxious hand through his hair, "you're suggesting that Dike is running a gang of stagecoach robbers - or knows enough about them to not go after them? That's a whole lot different than him just being crooked."

"I'm not just suggesting it." Ron shot back. "The robbers had a bivouac around the remains of the backwoods church that was blown to hell by the still explosion last year. That's where Dike collected his share, and paid them for another custom job. It didn't sound just like a typical robbery this time – Dike dropped off a crate of Indian weapons. At least a bow, some arrows...," he paused, shaking his head, "I couldn't make out all of what was said, but Dike was telling them to make it look good."

"Mounting an attack and framing somebody else this time." Lip said softly, voice heavy.

"Exactly that." Ron confirmed. "Dike will have moved them from the church by now, but if we move soon, we can pick up their trail."

"You're not going anywhere." Dick's voice held no room for question. "We can only assume Dike will get a wanted poster drawn up for you. At a minimum, you can't leave until we confirm if there is one."

Roe jammed his hands, fisted tight, into his pockets. "Do we really think Dike can convince Sobel of the crime to actually get a bounty placed on his head? Dike has no proof of the charge."

Dick looked up at Roe curiously. "What do you know about Sobel?" T he federal judge was little more than a name with a stone-cold reputation. But every act of justice enacted by the marshal service flowed directly from him.

"I saw him on my last job." Roe's face darkened as he could still smell it burning, see Renée's smile, her blue kerchief heavy in his pocket. "At that sham of a hospital, the day before it burned down. Renée said he was there to confirm the arrival of the latest court ordered patient, but he was asking all these questions about locked doors and keys. Concerned about patients escaping, she heard him say. But then, when it went up in flames, no one got out."

"Shit." Nix breathed. "You didn't say all that before."

"It wasn't important. Everyone's still dead."

"But now we're suggesting mass murder." Lip's voice was sharp with restrained anger and disgust.

"Fucking hell if that's true," Ron started, shaking his head, biting his lower lip, "I refuse to hide here, Dick. You'd better get chains."

"Noted." Dick gave a curt nod on the acknowledgement.

"So, what do we have?" Nix started, looking around the group. "A federal judge admitting people to a prison disguised as a mental hospital, locking everyone in, and burning it down? And a marshal, setting up a stagecoach gang to frame an attack by Indians?"

"And we don't know any of that for sure." Dick cautioned.

"The hell we don't." Ron's voice was firm with conviction. "The prejudiced son of a bitch is trying to work against the natives. Roe caught him at the end of that plan – that plan he succeeded at. And now he's starting this one with Dike – and maybe Dike helped him with the hospital, too – but we can't let him succeed with this one."

Dick couldn't stop turning the conversation over in his mind. The implications were just staggering. How long had this been going on right under their noses? Assuming Ron was right and it was all true. And he wasn't just shot for being reckless or actually breaking the law.

Dick exhaled a long breath as he followed Nix up the steps to the general store boardwalk. The town announcement board held the usual litany of church activities and women's bazaars, but a section was reserved just for the wanted scourge of the territory. So far their luck had held, but Dick's stomach dropped to see the new wanted poster tacked front and center.

"Well, that didn't take Dike long." Nix mused absently.

"You have to admit," Dick said with a shake of his head, "it's a pretty accurate rendering. One would almost think they had met before."

"Maybe they have." The wanted ad sketch of Ron was just too eerily good for Dike to supposedly have made Ron at a distance. "You ever consider that maybe he is a disgraced marshal, dismissed from the service?"

Dick drew back to look at Nix with a bewildered look. "No. He doesn't have to tell us everything, but he wouldn't blatantly lie about something like that."

"You're sure?"

"Yes." Dick said as they turned to leave, squinting under the brim of his hat in the mid morning sun. "Besides, if they had met before - Dike would have put his name on the poster."

Even Nix couldn't deny that. The poster may have been the spitting image of Ron but there was no name. The label just read "Wanted for breaking, entering & looting." At least that was a pretty accurate crime for Ron, if he were to commit such a blatant felony.

"Wonder how much he had to pay Sobel to get the $100 bounty." Nix speculated as they walked along the boarded sidewalk.

"Assuming they're not in cahoots?"

"Oh hell, Dick." Nix shook his head with a scoff. "I didn't want to believe it true when Ron said it. Let alone now that you're considering it."

"I don't want to consider it." Dick agreed, matching Nix in shaking his head. "A crooked marshal is one thing, but if he does indeed have the judge in his pocket. Or worse, if the federal judge is running the crooked marshal, then there's no limit to what they could accomplish."

The thought was more haunting than either man wanted to admit. Marshal Norman Dike, on his own, was annoying but not overbearingly troublesome. But if he was in league with Federal Judge Herbert Sobel, they would tear up the countryside in their pursuit self-appointed justice. And now that Ron was on to Dike, and Dike had put Ron in the crosshairs...it was amazing how fast it had all become so twisted.

"Guess that just leaves us, then." There was something mischievous on Nix's voice, matched by his little smirk and the twinkle in his eye. "I bet we could put Webster on it when he reports back next week. Post him as a clerk for the judge's office. He can be enough of a dandy that Sobel shouldn't have a problem with him."

"I don't think that's quite the compliment that you do. But you do have a point." Dick paused their walk outside the telegraph office. "We'll talk with him about it when he gets back. In the meantime, there should be a message from Liebgott."

Nix shook his head with an almost fond smile. "As prickly as that kid can be, he is remarkably on time with his messages."

"He knows what's good for him." A serious edge, an all-business tone was seeping into Dick's voice. "That's also how we'll know when he's in serious trouble." He turned to head inside the office, leaving Nix on the porch to pull his cigarette case out.

The young man at the telegraph office was almost always pleasant to speak with. He could be a little short when a large flurry of messages was incoming, but Dick never had any qualms with the man. As expected, there was a message waiting for him and Dick handed over the money, tipping his hat in thanks and farewell as he walked back out onto the porch.

"Oh come now, Mr. Nixon." A short, ruddy-faced man - Wilkins, maybe - was standing next to Nix, an imploring smile on his face. "Surely, you can see the benefits of such an improvement, being from back east and all. Building a respectable theater here in Bluewater is just the next step."

"While there is something to be said for the theater, I just don't see a big market for it here in Bluewater yet." Nix blew twin streams of smoke from his nose, glancing over and nodding at Dick as he walked over. "Besides, I'm not the man with the money. Best talk to the big boss if you want patronage."

"Aw, Mr. Winters, sir." Wilkins turned his smile and squinty eyes on Dick. "Everyone speaks highly of your generosity, sir. I was just talking with Mr. Nixon about the latest endeavor of Bluewater's Citizens Chamber - building a theater. With the funding and patronage for a theater space, we could bring in talent from all over the territory. Perhaps - why just think of it! We could even get shows in from San Francisco!"

"My, that does sound quite like something. I've never been to a proper theater show myself." He looked over at Nix who rolled his eyes dismissively on another exhale of smoke. "I'll consider it, but right off, I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Nixon. Now may not be the best time."

"All I ask is that you consider it." Wilkins' face lit with hope. "And I will do my job to prove to you that there couldn't be a better time for such an investment. Thank you, gentlemen. I look forward to sharing this news with the chamber members."

"Don't be too hasty, now." Dick shook his head, a sterner warning lurking in the set of his jaw, in the tightening of his eyes. "I would prefer the members not be informed of our involvement until such time, if and when, we agree."

"Oh no, Mr. Winters - I would never -"

"Oh, we know you would never, Mr. Wilkins." Nix cut the stammering, flustered man off. "But we just want our wishes explicitly stated to lay a groundwork for any future expansion or termination of any joint-venture contract."

Wilkins nodded vigorously, despite the confusion plainly on his face. "Yes sir, Mr. Nixon. Quite rightly spoken." He nodded again, forcing a smile to his face as he looked between Dick and Nix. "Well, gentlemen, please don't let me keep you. And I look forward to hearing your decision."

"Thank you, Mr. Wilkins." Dick called after him as the shorter man started to shuffle off, still looking unsure and unsettled. "You didn't have to take it so far, Lew. I think you could have stopped at 'explicitly'."

"And let this Yale education go to waste?" Nix glanced over with that familiar smirk of his. "My father would be so disappointed, so you're right - I probably should have stopped." He raised the remaining stub of his cigarette, drawing another breath. "What's Liebgott report?"

Dick held the message out, Nix leaning over and in to read the print.

Success meeting uncle looking to strike it rich still getting suppleis taking longer tell in 3 more weeks love to Ginny J Lieb

"Well, that's encouraging." Nix said. "Misspelled 'supplies', though."

"I'll take the misspelling for something going right." Dick countered, folding the message into his pocket. "It works well that he'll be delayed coming back. We need to get this all sorted out."


"Good morning, my good man!"

Lip looked up at the greeting, watching the round, red-cheeked man approach the bar. He certainly didn't seem like the type who'd start drinking this early. Shoot, the Easy Saloon had barely been open for 10 minutes.

"Good morning." Lip smiled. "What can I get you?"

"Oh, nothing for me thank you. Godness, if I start drinking now, I'll be belly up before mid-afternoon." The man laughed at his own joke, undeterred as Lip's pleasant smile remained unchanged. "No, sir, I'm here to see Mr. Winters.

"Sorry to say there's not here, and he won't be back until much later today."

"Oh, that is most unfortunate." The man's face fell. "How about Mr. Nixon? He would likely be able to speak for Mr. Winters on this matter."

"He's out with Mr. Winters."

"Oh, how dreadful." The man swiped the bowler hat from his head, pulling a handkerchief out from his suit jacket to dab at his brow. Lip didn't think it was particularly hot yet, but this man sure was bothered.

"Can…can I do something to help you, instead?"

"No, sir. Unless you're authorized to make financial decisions for them, then no, you won't be able to help me."

"Sorry, sir." Lip shook his head. "I'm certainly not authorized to do that. But I'll be happy to take your name and let them know that you stopped by."

"Thank you, sir. I suppose that will have to do, but they should generally know to expect me. We discussed a business proposition for the town – I'm Elmer Wilkins, of the Bluehill Citizen's Chamber. They promised they would let me know if they were willing to back funding for a proper theater in this town."

Lip's brow furrowed curiously. "Well, I've never known Mr. Winters to be dishonest. If he promised that he would get back with you today, then I'm sure he will."

Wilkins' face paled, falling slack. "Well…he, er, he didn't quite promise that he'd get back with me today. His exact words – if, uh, I recall right." Again, he mopped at his brow. "Was that he would consider the proposal and let me know."

"Then, I'm sure he's still considering it." Lip did his best to offer a reassuring smile.

"It's just that…well. The Chamber was hoping to hear from him today. We're, uh, we're hoping to move forward soon."

"Well, he still won't be back until much later today. Nothing I can do to change that unfortunately, Mr. Wilkins."

"Yes, right you are." The man nodded, resigned and still downtrodden. "Well, thank you. I do appreciate your time this morning, and sorry for the bother."

"Not at all. When they get back, I'll let them know that you stopped by."

Wilkins shuffled off with more groveling apologies, and Lip was admittedly glad to see him go. He didn't envy the position the man was in. Especially if he had promised the Chamber more than Winters was ready to give. And especially if it was to sponsor a theater. Did Bluewater really need a theater? Why not a decent hospital or a schoolhouse? Miss Cartwright shouldn't have to teach in a schoolhouse with a leaky roof.

Footsteps creaking down the stairs stole his attention upward, his face souring with a frown. Speirs looked unconcerned as he stepped off the last step, moving between the mostly empty tables and chairs. At least he had his hair combed forward and an uncommon stoop to his shoulders as he approached. It would be more challenging to match his appearance to the wanted poster if anyone was of a mind.

"You're not supposed to be here." Lip said tightly, displeasure in his gaze as he looked up at Speirs.

"It's quiet still." Speirs slouched against the bartop, leaning forward on his elbows. "Who was that wiping the stream from his brow?"

"Wilkins. With the Citizen's Chamber." Lip shook his head in distant amusement. "Guess he offered Winters and Nixon a business deal, and he's itchy for an answer."

"Christ, civic duty for the successful. What's next?" They shared a sardonic smile, Speirs shaking his head. "How about a drink?"

Lip's brow creased. "Have you eaten yet this morning?"

"No. And this house-arrest is a literal pain in my ass. Surely, you won't begrudge me a slug."

"You know how it goes to your head." The corner of Speirs' mouth lifted on Lip's tease. "Besides, you barely look a day over sixteen with your hair like that."

The rare smile spread up Speirs' face, his eyes softening as he stared back at Lip. "Just shut up and pour."

"Yes, sir." Lip's face warmed with amusement as he turned around for the whiskey and two clean glasses. He poured out two small measures, nudging a glass to Speirs.

"Never seen you drink." He nodded to Lip's glass.

"I don't. Not really. But when I was little, I took ill with scarlet fever and Mama claimed it was a bottle of German schnapps that healed me."

Speirs chucked quietly. "I see – so the truth is, you just started young."

"I suppose so."

Speirs raised his glass. "Well, here's to starting young and not drinking alone."

"Starting young and not alone." Lip agreed with a warm smile, meeting the other man's gaze and clinking against his glass before tipping it back. The taste and afterburn were familiar, if unwelcome. He hadn't missed the stuff since his last drink. A cough crept up his throat as he caught Speirs' smug smirk across the bar.

"Still such a greenhorn. Least you wear the whisky flush well."

"Get out of here." Lip tried and failed to bite back an embarrassed smirk. "You're still at risk, and I won't have Winters blaming me if you're caught."

With a final smirk, Speirs pushed off the bar, leaving the empty glass behind as he shuffled off with his uncharacteristic stoop towards the 'Stay Out' door and the kitchen backroom.

xxx

"Ginny Malone!" Lily turned around with wide eyes, shocked at what she'd just heard. "You didn't."

The three women around the table giggled, and Ginny looked absolutely shameless. "He was so drunk, he wasn't going to see if a couple of his bills went missing."

"So, you just swiped them up?" Elmira asked through a mouthful of sausage.

"Yes. It was easy. He didn't even see!"

Alice giggled. "Oh, I'll have to try that sometime!"

"Don't you dare." Lily scolded, waving the greasy spatula at Alice. "None of you should be stealing from patrons at the tables, no matter how drunk they are. It won't take much to guess wrong, and then we'll have to deal with the mess it'll make." She looked back to the stove, flipping the eggs that were cooking in the sausage grease.

"You can't spoil all our fun, Lily." Ginny pouted. "If a man's dumb enough to get so drunk that he can't see getting stole from, then I say he deserves it."

Lily sighed. "You keep up that kind of talk, and I'll get Mr. Winters in here to set you straight. All the nice things he's done for us – and continues to do. He doesn't need us doing dumb things, too. Like stealing from men at the tables."

"Suppose I'll just have to have my fun elsewhere." Ginny said. "I did have an offer last night."

"No." Elmira said, shock on her voice. "From one of the men here?"

"No, from one of the patrons." Ginny's tone brightened. "Though, I'm still hoping Mr. Lipton comes around. Or even Mr. Speirs."

Lily shook her head, scooping the cooked eggs out of the pan and onto a plate. "I'm not sure I'd hold onto those hopes too tight."

"Nothing's final until you're dead." Ginny countered, her face tight with offense as Lily approached the table. "And neither one of them are anywhere near dead yet – Mr. Speirs!" Ginny shot up from the table, a wide smile growing in her face as the door opened.

Lily spun around, shocked to see actually see Ron entering the kitchen. He…he was still supposed to be laying low upstairs. She glared at him, concerned, as he nodded in greeting.

"Good morning, ladies."

"Good morning, Mr. Speirs." Ginny preened. "Please a have a seat – Lilly just put breakfast on."

"Well, the eggs, at least." Lily couldn't quite keep the displeased note from her voice as she turned to get a clean plate. "The sausage might be a little cold. But I was on my way to bring some up."

"I'm sure it'll be fine as-is, right here." A chair scraped across the wood floor as she turned back, handing him a plate, her gaze disapproving as she met his. Goodness, but he looked so young with his hair unusually combed forward.

"Wouldn't you know," Elmira started, passing the plate of sausage patties, "your ears must have been burning, Mr. Speirs. We was just talking about you."

"Is that so?"

"That is so." Elmira's words deformed around a bite. "How come is it we've never seen you take a woman?"

"Elmira!" Alice shrieked with a giggle.

"Well, it's Ginny that wanted to know."

"Oh, it's true, Mr. Speirs." Ginny cooed, and Lily felt her blood boil to see the not-so innocent hand Ginny laid on his forearm. "You're such a looker, it'd just be a real pity."

Bewilderment lit his face as he chewed, nodding slowly, uncertainly. "Well, that's…that's certainly more than I bargained for."

"Well, when you'ready to bargain," Ginny winked, leaning forward to accentuate her ample bosom, "I'll be waiting for you."

Lily ground her teeth, watching Ginny carry on and the sweep of Ron's gaze over her. She wanted nothing more than to throw Ginny's hand off of him and lay a public claim in front of all of them. What would he do if she walked up and dropped into his lap, sealing her lips to his? Could she make him moan as she'd heard so many times before?

"Why look at Lily!" Alice gasped, giggling with newfound amusement. "She's just green with envy!"

Lily felt so hot around the ears, hoping it didn't show on her cheeks as she pursed her lips. "Green around the gills, more like. Losing my appetite at all of y'all's shameless displays." She turned around, stepping back over to the table.

It didn't help that she caught Ron's gaze, his eyes dark with wicked truth and the corner of his mouth raised ever so discreetly. "The flattery is appreciated, ladies, but my dance card is full."

Her breath caught in her chest as he held her gaze.

Elmira glared over, chewing. "Dance card?"

Ginny giggled. "Don't he just sound so proper! It's what they use at all them fancy dances – means that he's already got at least one someone. And he's turning us down."

"Yes." He said as he broke from Lily's gaze to look around the table, spearing the last bite of food on his plate.

"Oh, do tell!" Ginny asked. "I simply have to know."

He took the last bite, pushing the empty plate forward as he rose. "I had better get back upstairs before the floor gets too busy." He caught her eye again as he reached for the door handle. "Good day, ladies."

The door closed in his wake and she loosed the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"What's got you so worked up, Lily? For god's sake – don't tell me you've wet yourself over him." Elmira sneered.

"Oh, I wonder who it is," Alice said, "you think he's two-timing Mr. Lipton with Miss Cartwright?"

Lily sighed, stepping back towards the stove. "Not sure you're using that phase right."

Ginny snorted into her coffee mug. "Could you imagine if it was Mr. Lipton keeping him company at night! The common room up there would be a great place for it and we'd never know a thing – maybe that explains why we ain't seen no one."

"That would absolutely be wrong," Alice said, her face hard with disgust. "Mr. Speirs may not be so upstanding, but Mr. Lipton has Miss Cartwright to think about."

"And y'all have your jobs to start thinking about." Lily cut in. "Hurry up and finish. It's time to go dress."


Goodness, but she hadn't been able to stop thinking about this morning. How desperate she'd been to kiss Ron right there in the kitchen. How her heart ached to just tell him. To say nothing of the hope that yearned for him to return the sentiment. She sighed as she raised her foot up to rest on her vanity stool, pulling down her garter and stocking.

She would love to know what he had been thinking during the exchange. It brought a smile to her face to remember his flash of surprise when Elmira asked her question. She didn't imagine many people got to surprise Ron Speirs, yet Elmira had done it.

She raised her other leg, rucking up the hem of her dress. The perfunctory knock on her door startled her, shaking her from her musing. It probably shouldn't have, but she wasn't really expecting anyone given the late hour. She hadn't seen Lew in several hours, and Ron hadn't paid her a nighttime visit since he'd been shot.

"Come in." Reaching for her garter, she shimmied it down her leg as the door opened and closed with it's familiar creaking hinge. She looked over, her heart leaping to see Ron standing there lit by the long shadows from her lamp. He had tamed his hair back into something resembling his usual appearance and her fingers itched to muss it up.

His eyes fixed on the pointed display of her leg propped up on the vanity stool. She couldn't help but smirk at the familiar hunger lurking in his gaze and she ran her hand up her stocking clad skin to disappear under the raised hem of her skirt. She toyed with the garter in the other hand, making a show for him.

"What did you think you were doing this morning?" She asked, letting the garter fall down beside her foot. Her free hand joined the other, drifting up her thigh to the end of her stocking. "You looking for trouble?"

"I've already found trouble. Hiding out here doesn't change that."

She huffed a breathy laugh, watching his gaze darken as she rolled her stocking down, exposing the smooth skin of her leg. "Well, 'trouble' hasn't graced us with his presence since that day he charged the floor looking for you. Though, I did get a look at your wanted poster. It doesn't do you justice." She pulled the stocking free, bending over further to accentuate her curves as she gathered it up. "Do you think I could sneak out and write your real crime on the poster – owning first-hand knowledge that the marshal is a dirty, rotten scoundrel."

"And you accuse me of looking for trouble?" A faint undercurrent of amusement rumbled in his words. "But not tonight. Tonight, I have a right to wrong. A lie that's lingered since breakfast."

"I didn't lie to you."

"No, not to me. You couldn't have hid your jealousy from me if you tried." She raised her eyes to look at his face, gazing up at him through her lashes. With her leg exposed, body bent over, and the view he had down the front of her dress, there wasn't much hidden from him.

"They're the ones I want to be jealous." She said suddenly. "Want them to know they can't have you because you're mi-"

"Come here."

She rolled upright, lowering her leg and not breaking her gaze from him as she walked closer. Her heart hammered in her chest, blood rushing with heated anticipation. It had been so long since she'd had him so close. Her hand settled flat to his chest as her other rose, thumbing against the top-most closed button on his shirt. She could feel her body start to grow warm for him, her mouth watering as she looked up at him, whispering, "Let me show you."

She didn't voice the rest of it. Let me show you how I love you. How much I want you.

Her hands drifted down the contours of his chest as she lowered to drop to her knees - until he snagged her wrist. She froze, staring up at him, suddenly uncertain. There was no mistaking the desire in his hooded eyes or the breathy part of his lips. But why was he stopping her? He never stopped her when she went to her knees.

Without a word, he pulled her up and she went with him, ever willing to bend to his wishes. He held her wrist firmly, his thumb stroking a hard pattern. "Not tonight." Heat coiled in her belly at the rough husk in his voice as he stepped towards her.

Leveraging all his weight, he pushed her back and she had no choice but to move with him. Her eyes blazed with a hungry wildfire to match his own, gasping excitedly as the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. His other arm wrapped around her waist, taking to the laces of her dress.

"Look at me." He said, the command unmistakable. "Look away and I will stop."

She broke his command only twice before he brought her to sweet, sweet relief and his intense, quicksilver green eyes held her all way through.

She clung to him, wordless sounds on her lips as he moved inside her now. Nothing had ever felt so right, so damn fucking good. She bit her lip on a moan, the panting rush of his breaths against her cheek growing to a fever pitch. He groaned low and obscene as he stilled, deep insider her. Her ragged breathing matched his as he slumped down, his head falling to rest against her shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her neck. Her fingers carded through his damp hair, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart. God, but this man would be the death of her.

"Stay." Her voice sounded so loud in the silence that had descended. "Please stay."

"I shouldn't." She hated when he used such an inscrutable tone - especially when they had both been so mindless minutes prior. And so intimate tonight - holding his gaze. Her heart ached at the memory, tightening her hold on him, desperate for him to stay. To tell him everything.

"Ron, please." She didn't care how desperate, how needy she sounded. "I lo-"

"I need to go." He swiftly pressed a kiss to her forehead as he broke from her embrace.

She heaved a deep breath, watching through wet eyes as he righted his clothes with efficient movements. No man had ever been worth crying over before but as the door closed behind him, her tears fell with abandon.