Hartland

By: KSuzie

All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney except Ivan and Dulcea who apparently belong to Fox (who knew?), the Demon King is Daniel's (but I've changed the history a bit to fit my stories) and everything else belongs to me.

Chapter 10: A Change of Plans

Curtis left Tiger hitched to the post and trudged down the wooden planks that served as Angel Grove's version of a sidewalk. He didn't want to go home just yet. Few people were out and about; the sun had set and most had gone home long before the regular night life emerged and started in earnest. Those who recognized him smiled and nodded, hopeful for a little more information on the day's events. Horace's barn had gone up again, a clear signal that Calamity and her Rangers were back in town, but he didn't stop for pleasantries; simply kept his course with the minimum polite response.

He was not a drinking man, but every once in a while he indulged himself…besides, it had been a while since he checked in with Earnest and the bar-keep would be waiting for instructions now that the Rangers were back. Entering the saloon, he paused briefly and surveyed busier than usual scene, freezing as his eyes caught sight of the albino, seated at a back table with an obviously drunk Francis Carson. Netau's head rose slightly, then turned slowly in his direction; indicating he was very much aware of his scrutiny. He scowled at the evil looking creature, eyes hard and cold, but Netau's lips merely curled upward in a small, silent taunt of a grin.

Snapping his eyes away, he made his way to the long, highly polished wooden bar, unleashing his angst in the form of a deadly scowl toward a stranger that dared to give him an unwelcome look. The man made a clearly audible slur about half-breeds stinking up the local establishments, but moved on quickly enough when Earnest approached and threatened to toss him out. Curtis sighed in resignation, but kept the movement concealed. The remark stung, but he refused to let it show.

"Sorry about that Curtis." The bartender offered, taking a glass from a stack on the opposite counter and wiping it with a clean towel before placing it in front of him. "Didn't peg him as causing any trouble."

Curtis shrugged as if un-phased, but the foulness of his mood had increased exponentially and radiated obviously outward. The dynamics of Angel Grove were changing and he had yet to change with it. He was dressed well enough, still in the white shirt and dark pants he'd worn to the funeral, but he'd slipped into his old buckskin jacket and unbound his hair; allowing it to cascae down his back. He didn't think he looked anything remotely close to an Indian, but he knew how he looked to strangers. To the influx of eastern greenhorns arriving daily into their ever growing town, there was no difference between him and the savages of their storybooks.

"The usual?" Earnest asked, drawing him out of his thoughts. Curtis nodded and he reached below the bar and unlocked a small cabinet; pulling out an intricately carved crystal carafe of whiskey. The other man's mood was dark, which didn't bode well, so he slid the glass towards him and silently began to wipe his pile of clean glasses, waiting for him to initiate the next round of conversation.

"What's the albino doing with Carson?" Curtis asked softly, lifting the glass and downing the contents in one painful swallow; another bad sign.

Earnest looked up and regarded the back table as if only just now aware of its occupants. "Didn't notice Carson." He murmured, rubbing his double chin with a burley hand. "Nel pointed out the strange one about an hour ago. He's paying in old Spanish coins, but they're worth more than what he apparently thinks they are, so I told her to keep serving….friend of yours?"

"Hardly." Curtis sniffed, placing the glass back down with a thump.

Earnest nodded at him, silently registering what the other man didn't voice out loud. Curtis owned more than a half interest in his saloon as well as the attached "hotel" upstairs, he fully expected his silent partner to fill him in on Calamity's arrival and what to watch out for…eventually. The aging bartender had already heard she was in town, which would mean a boom in business. He'd heard the barn explode not too long after the funeral for the little Carson boy and, sure enough, the rush had begun well before the sun began to set.

Although no one in town could prove Curtis was one of Calamity's Rangers, and he'd never admitted anything to Earnest, it wasn't a stretch of the imagination to piece together that he was at least involved with them. She was supposedly his sister, after all, and he himself had been credited with more than one heroic deed since he'd ridden into Angel Grove. Regardless, if the white stranger had a grudge against the albino, that meant the odd looking man was on the wrong side.

"Want me to throw him out?" He asked cautiously.

Curtis fingered his empty glass, watching the legs of its contents slowly slide downward and settle into the bottom. "Watch them." He answered gruffly. "Let me know what they do."

Earnest nodded, glancing over to the far table again. "Want me to send Nell over?"

Curtis appeared to consider the idea, then shook his head. "Keep the girls away." He answered. Fingering his glass, he contemplated sliding it forward for a refill, but before he could weigh the pros and cons of a second shot against the possibility of having to morph again before sunrise, a surly voice interrupted them.

"I think you best be on your way boy." It growled in a thick baritone.

The noisy saloon silenced almost immediately and Curtis slowly turned. Behind him were three men, including the one who had muttered something against him earlier. They were all relative new comers to Angel Grove and he wasn't surprised.

"Mind your tongue Eugene." Earnest snapped, one hand carefully lowering the fancy bottle behind the bar, the other shifting a little closer to his concealed rifle. "Last time I checked, this was still my place, and I decide who stays and who doesn't."

"Since when do you serve his kind in here?" The one named Eugene snarled in a whiskey slurred voice.

"And what kind would that be?" Curtis asked calmly, opening his jacket and showing his holstered guns, knowing as he did so that he was only provoking the situation. Instead of answering, the man hesitated, taking in Curtis's deadly, gunslinger demeanor. Years of Rangering had thickened his build and there weren't many who'd openly challenge him to a brawl. Curtis could almost read the regret in the other man's eyes; he had more than he'd bargained for and he knew it. "Since these fellows are so interested in me, maybe you should introduce us Earnest." He added.

"We don't need no introducing." The second man offered, unable to see the hesitation on his comrade's face. Behind him, the man he'd displaced at the bar earlier slunk down and stepped back.

"Problems?" A new voice asked just off to the side Curtis's line of sight, bringing up the rear from behind the three men. This time, Curtis allowed his head to turn a little from the men, though he still kept a watchful eye on them through his peripheral vision. He hadn't heard Kimberly's husband approach, which surprised him a bit, but he knew the voice and relaxed a little. Not that he would have any trouble taking on three greenhorns in a bar brawl, but fighting damaged furniture and furniture was expensive; it wasn't good for business. With Tommy joining him, the men would be less likely to start anything indoors, if at all.

"No." Curtis answered blandly, muscles relaxing as the three men looked in confusion from one nearly identical twin to the other. The only difference was that Tommy, with his short hair and new clothes looked a whole lot more like civilized city-folk than he did; it pissed him off. "No problems. These gentlemen are rather new in town." He continued. "If I'm not mistaken, this one is Spencer Brent's new manager over at the lumber yard and this one," He continued, pointing a lazy finger at the second man, "I'm pretty sure just bought the old Henderson place last summer."

"Who the hell are you to…" The second man began, but he was cut off by a curt grunt by the first to shut up.

Curtis knew he should leave it be. The men were cornered between him, Tommy, and the wall. Both he and his newly appointed, so called, "brother" had the look of men that needed to be left alone. The first one had obviously reconsidered and the second was faltering now that his comrades had lost their nerve.

Both he and Tommy were armed, further discouraging the trouble makers, but for some reason, he was not in the mood to let bygones be bygones. He was itching for a fight and if it wasn't going to be with the albino, then it might as well be with three greenhorns who thought they could bully him.

"As a matter of fact," He added in his best gunslinger style, "These boys were just about to by the whole house another round."

The entire saloon was now deathly quiet. Not one sound of glasses clinking or chairs shuffling could be heard; all eyes were on the five men staring each other down. The first man glared angrily back at him, but he met the gaze coolly, almost mockingly, daring him to make a move. The comment had been as good as throwing the first punch. His companions shuffled nervously, looking back and forth between Tommy and Curtis. It was a showdown as good as any seen decades later on television and in movies and, for Tommy, seemed to drag on for an eternity. For a moment, Curtis thought the men would actually chose to fight it out, but they didn't. They backed away, almost in unison, and returned to their table.

"Earnest," Curtis said at last, breaking the silence. "Fill everyone's glass."

As he turned back around to the bar, Tommy caught his eye with a stern, disapproving look, but he didn't care. The day had been massively hard on him. He knew all too well that Rangers didn't pick fights, but he'd always been a bit of a rouge in that department. He tried hard to turn the other cheek, to hold to the higher ground, but he was a remnant of wilder days; days were a man earned his respect the hard way first, then through more altruistic deeds.

Still, he had to face the fact that Angel Grove was in transition. Old wooden shacks were being replaced with brick front stores and offices. There was the beginning of a wooden, deck-like, side walk lining the new section of town, there were fewer and fewer wagons and more carriages, and the people themselves seemed tamer. The women showed this change the most. Ten years ago Angel Grove's sparse female population could be seen in rough farm clothes and prairie bonnets, but more recently, ladies strolled the wooden planks with parasols and feather trimmed hats.

He realized was a relic, a hold-over. Very soon a decision would have to be made. He could either grow and assimilate, or he'd be pushed out. Given Kim's recent revelations, he supposed it would be the latter. As Tommy approached the bar next to him, he surveyed him. Everything about the other man spoke of civilized society. His hair was cropped short, his hands smooth, his nails clean. Still, he exuded the aura of a man not to be trifled with. Curtis had no doubt that Kimmee's husband could handle a weapon if needed, yet he doubted he'd ever used one outside of his Rangering duties. Perhaps civilizing himself wouldn't be all that bad; it was something to mull over anyway.

William contemplated following Kim's husband in search of Curtis, but thought better of it. She had come back to the house briefly and released Rocco from his watch, but she'd also warned them all to be cautious until she returned again. She was off again almost as quickly as she arrived and he had elected to stay home.

Part of it was that he was worried about his father's health and the strain the day's activities had-had on him, but part of it was that he was also nervous to leave Allison alone now that Sirus, Murdock, and their gang were back in town.

Sirus had never been known to behave where women were concerned and Murdock wasn't much better. Allison wasn't a little girl this time around. She was still young, but in the last few months she'd begun to fill out in all the places a girl should and she had slipped from the pretty porcelain doll look, to one that was very pleasing to many a male eye.

She turned and, realizing he was staring at her, silently asked what was wrong.

"You need to promise me you'll be careful." He signed back worriedly. "There's trouble again."

She smiled at his concern, but also shrugged it off. "I've been through it before." She signed back, sitting down at the long table and watching as he took a seat opposite her.

"It's different now." He replied. "You're not little anymore."

"I can take care of myself." She offered back confidently. "I'm not nearly as stupid as people think I am, you know."

William frowned deeply and shook his head. "That's not what I meant." He continued, uneasy with acknowledging his line of thought. There were some things you just didn't talk to a girl about, but Allison wasn't just anyone. She'd been his best friend growing up and they shared nearly everything together. Still, more recently things had turned from the comradery of friendship to something more. How did you talk openly to a girl about that something more?

"Listen to me." He signed back definitively, hoping she'd take him seriously and not laugh at him. "That's not what I meant." He began, pausing and thinking hard about what signs he wanted to use. There really weren't any signs to say he felt she was so pretty she was in danger of being carried off and raped; even if there were, he wasn't at all sure he'd have the courage to use them.

"Look…Sirus and Murdock, they'll…well, they'll…they're pretty bold. They'll be hanging around town looking for…company… kind of…" He signed in a stilted, stammering sort of way. Pausing, he brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed them, trying to buy a little time to think. "Just…If you can help it, don't go out alone and stick to the main roads…no short cuts, understand me?"

"Why?" She asked, genuinely confused. "It's not like the bad ones would ever seek me out, I couldn't talk to them if they did."

"I don't want anything to happen to you." He responded irritably, ears glowing a bright red in contrast to his light blond hair.

"What could happen?" She returned, frowning and not really following him. William had the easiest signs to read of anyone else she knew, but he wasn't looking directly at her and was shuffling around like he was embarrassed, making it difficult to understand what words he was stressing. She wasn't sure why he'd be uncomfortable, she'd already confided in him that she knew all about the Rangers. The others might still try to be discrete around her, but she already knew most of their secrets.

William growled in frustration, then stood and made his way to the other side of the table. Sitting down next to her, he paused, drawing courage, then said plainly. "You're growing up Allison and you're …pretty." He added shyly. "Sometimes, well sometimes…sometimes that could make a man look twice and…he might get certain ideas…if you were all friendly and all…"

Allison started in surprise as she realized what he was talking about. She wasn't nearly as naive as he apparently thought she was, which was a good thing as far as she was concerned, but this was a subject that was completely taboo. One that Alicia had very firmly refused to talk to her about. Frustrated, she'd finally resorted to stolen glances at Doc's medical journals late at night, but those mostly contained only technical litanies of diseases and obstetrics and, although she had a pretty good idea, she was still at a loss as to how it all really worked let alone the flirtations required to initiate or repel it. Good girls apparently didn't know anything about a man's affectionate attentions and to even ask about it had somehow branded her very brash in the older woman's eyes.

Allison was desperate for more information, but it was glaringly obvious that it wasn't a subject she couldn't talk about with other females, let alone William. She suddenly felt herself grow very flustered and embarrassed. On the one hand, she would dearly love to know how to escape the barrage of attentions that had drifted her way, on the other, wasn't it better that he think her completely ignorant? Didn't it make her one of those "undesirable" females for even acknowledging it?

Unfortunately for Allison, there was more than one man in town who thought if a girl couldn't speak, she couldn't tell. The trouble had started only four months before when the Henderson's had sold their farm to an eastern family of settlers and had grown steadily and frighteningly worse in the past few weeks. She rarely left Doc's home now unless she was in someone else's company, but Doc's health was visibly failing now and he depended more and more on her to run errands for him if William was busy or studying his assignments.

"What is it?" He asked, watching her reaction to his words closely.

Allison froze and watched him closely, panic beginning to stir in her stomach. She was head over heels in love with him, but she had no illusions. Doc was against his youngest son developing anything other than a sisterly affection for her. They already had to hide stolen kisses in the dark when no one was looking. William loved and obeyed his father, would he use the other men's lewd attentions as an excuse to be done with their clandestine activities? Would he scorn her if he knew the truth? That more than one so-called respectable citizen and family man had tried to force his intentions on her?

Other questions bothered her as well. Was she really the unprincipled girl Alicia seemed to think she was? She thought of herself as a good girl, but she also couldn't deny that she loved and encouraged William's advances; that was hardly propitious of her. She just didn't know.

She wanted to stop the interest of the other men, but at the same time wanted more of William's; often finding herself longing for him to pay her more notice than he did. It just didn't make any sense. From what she could piece together, if she was a good girl, she wouldn't want any attention at all; from anyone. A good girl submitted to her husband only after they were married. But she adored it when William kissed her and touched her, so did that make her bad? Perhaps she was. On the other hand though, if she was really one of "those" girls, would it really matter to her who's attentions she received? Wouldn't she want it all the time like the girls upstairs at Earnest's Saloon?

"Allison, what is it?" He signed again, more insistently.

"I understand you." She signed back, glancing at him quickly, then lowering her eyes in embarrassment as her cheeks flushed hotly. "I'm not a fool, I understand what men want, I know what kind of attention you mean."

William starred at her for several long seconds, wondering if it was his own pressing nighttime demands that had produced the guilty and uncomfortable look on her face or if , inconceivably, she was talking about the attentions of someone else. Finally, he pulled her arm until she looked at him again.

"What is it?" He asked pointedly, but she only shrugged and looked away from him. Fear crawled through him then, cold and wet, with unbearable foreboding. Pulling on her arm again, he asked, "What happened?"

She gave him a mournful look, which caused his stomach to sink even further. "Alicia says I'm never to talk about it. Good girls don't talk about it…to anyone."

"Talk about what?" He asked, though he honestly didn't think he wanted to know. "You can tell me anything." He added. "You know that."

Allison turned away with such a wounded and despondent expression that William's heart sank. He didn't want to know, didn't want to even think about it. The very idea that someone could have …. That he hadn't even noticed, hadn't stopped it, but when? how?

"Tell me." He signed insistently, firmly turning her around, concern for her clearly written in his blue eyes; fear and dread was quickly sliding into an unfamiliar mixture of anger and jealousy. If anyone had so much as made an unwelcome gesture towards her he'd…he didn't know what he'd do.

She turned her head and shook it, unwilling to read his fingers, although she already knew what he was asking. He insisted though, and eventually she took a deep breath, resigning herself to answer.

"Alicia says it's a woman that asks for it, that if I don't ask, they'd leave well enough alone." She explained, fingers hesitant and eyes desperately mournful, "But I don't ever ask, not ever William, you have to believe me, it's the truth. I understand gestures and body language better than anyone in town. I know I'm not…not…you know…asking…"

"I believe you." He responded, scooting his chair closer and torn between the desire to wrap his arms around her and the need to keep his hands free and stay far enough back to watch her words. He'd failed her, he didn't know how, didn't know when, but she'd needed him and he'd missed it. It had to have been when he was away at school, before his father had become so ill he'd had to be called home. Anger began to replace the foreboding. He'd find out who it was that was bothering her and he'd bloody the bastard.

"Alicia won't tell me what it is I'm doing wrong, she just says I must be wanting it cause they keep coming."

William froze. She'd said "they." Plural; there was more than one. "Who's they?" He asked, face hardening into such a scowl that she cringed involuntarily.

"It wasn't me, I swear it William." She signed hurriedly. "Yes, I admit it, I dearly like it when you kiss me, but I swear I can't stand it when they come at me…I get so scared…"

"Who's they?" He repeated firmly.

"You have to understand, they believe I can't talk, I can't tell."

"Who's they?"

"The worst of them only tore my dress, a few bruises, that's all. It never got to the point…I don't know, but Alicia said she didn't think… it's not at all like when you touch me…"

"Who's….they?" He growled, every inch the angry Ranger about to destroy his enemy.

"Zordon I need help." Kim pleaded, exhaustion seeping through her words. Her fever was rising, causing her thoughts to muddle and she knew she didn't have much time before she'd have to succumb to another mutation of her powers. "I've never done an embryo transfer before and it took far too much of my power to locate a suitable replacement. If I make even one mistake…there's no second chance with this."

"Kimberly I cannot assist you." Her mentor responded patiently for the third time. "This is not an issue of assisting a female with reproduction, this is an unauthorized removal and transplantation of a living entity; a clear violation of Continuum law."

"A violation that is necessary to stop the Equaline waves and a violation you yourself agreed needed to occur." She argued, unable to hold back her frustration.

"I understand." He responded softly, eyes sympathizing with her from his power tube.

"You understand that it has to happen but you won't risk responsibility for it." She spat, surprising herself with the amount of venom behind the words. "If I do it all by myself you won't be blamed for it; they'll only go after the wayward Ranger outside of her own time-zone."

"Kimberly," Zordon responded gently, "I cannot interfere. The powers that be within the Continuum pretend to ignore my existence while continuing to carefully monitor my experiments and influence. Although I long ago passed the torch of command, they vigilantly guard their own powers and authority and look upon the old guard with suspicion and jealously. Any assistance on my part would bring attention to and flag your efforts; putting you in greater jeopardy than you already are. You know what must be done and I have complete confidence your abilities will provide a successful outcome."

Kimberly stomped an impatient foot in irritation and closed her eyes; ignoring the burn of the lids against her eyeballs. She could feel the chaos of her system raging throughout her body. She knew the signs, knew the symptoms, understood that she had to take herself away from those she loved until her powers had calmed down. She'd soon be worthless to anyone; unable to do anything but writhe in pain until she could gain control over her mutinous body again.

Feeling her mentor's gaze upon her, she slowly reopened her eyes and regarded the old wizard carefully. There was a genuineness that resonated in his words, but something had been carefully omitted, the truth had been turned ever so slightly, twisted around a set of facts that had been left unsaid. It saddened her beyond comprehension. There was a time when she would have trusted Zordon implicitly, blindly accepting all the great being had to offer, but that time had passed. She mourned that innocence, grieved for that youthful faith that would never again be fully realized.

"Who pulls the strings behind your decision to sacrifice me?" She asked in a calm voice. The anger and frustration had passed, only a disenchanted acceptance of her fate remained. She knew, as Zordon did, that to transplant the embryo taken from an alternate universe into her own was a death sentence. She was being asked to sacrifice herself to save the universe from two out of control Equaline waves. As a Ranger, the choice was clear, as a human, the choice was devastating. She would lose all she loved, but the universe would go on without ever knowing how close it came to oblivion.

"No one is asking you to sacrifice yourself pink Ranger." He answered kindly, and she realized she had hit a nerve. Once again he'd side-stepped the question and refused to answer directly, but by addressing her as a Ranger instead of by her given name, he'd reminded her that her duty to the universe was clear.

She regarded him evenly, blinking every few seconds. No, no one was asking her to sacrifice herself. The choice was hers and hers alone, but if she refused, the future would be erased and the universe would be back to what it was before the Demon King had been banished. Humanity would be eradicated in countless dimensions; the forces of good would fail. There was no choice. She would perish if the continuum discovered what she'd done, when they discovered what she had done, but Tommy and the others would live on.

She lowered her head, silently digesting that she would act alone. No one would assist her in stopping the waves, and no one would come to her aide when the Continuum discovered what she had done. She was on her own.

Slowly, her eyes reopened and she raised her head, ready to acknowledge what was yet unsaid between them, but before she could, a bright red light flashed across the Power Chamber and alarms sounded. She and Zordon turned as one as a brightly glowing communications orb came to life and delivered its message above the blaring noise around them.

"Kimberly…" Kim's own voice began, "This message comes to you exactly three days into your immediate future. You have very little time to stop Netau…."

Curtis watched carefully as the albino patiently followed a stumbling Frank Carson out the swinging doors of the saloon. His gaze shifted over and met Tommy's, both men silently agreeing that they should follow. They rose as one and began to follow the unlikely pair out the door, but before they could reach it, they were intercepted at the entrance by Kimberly and the rest of the Western Rangers.

"What are you doing here?" Curtis blurted out before he even realized he'd vocalized his thoughts. "Who's with Caroline?"

"She fine." Kim said simply. "Everything's just fine, now if you'll just sit…"

"I'm not sitting anywhere." Curtis replied heatedly, eyes scanning his team. "All of you have assign…"

"Curtis… sit." Abraham interrupted in his thick, barking accent, placing his hand on the younger man's chest. "All is revealed in time."

The leader of the Western Rangers paused, evaluating the old man in front of him. As his eyes traced from the hand on his chest, to Kim's worried eyes, to young William's look of complete and barely contained murderous rage, he shifted gears and stepped back; willing to hold his peace until whatever had altered the plan revealed itself.

"Netau just left with Francis Carson." Tommy supplied, catching Kim's eye to gauge whether she was aware her ancestor was in serious danger. She nodded by way of answering and slipped past him, one hand taking his in a surprisingly firm grip and leading him back into the saloon with her.

The hand was burning hot and he blinked sharply, thoughts leaving the endangered man and refocusing on his wife. Questions assaulted his mind in lightening succession. She was sick, that was obvious, but how sick had she become in the last hour since she'd left him? Had she succeeded? Had she failed? Why had she corralled the Rangers in a very public saloon instead of the privacy of Doc's living room or the Power Chamber?

As she pulled him to a back corner table, his eyes scanned the other Rangers. They had grim expressions which didn't bode well. Young William was having an especially hard time concealing his angst. Tommy wondered what could have possibly happened to change the plans they had made not an hour before.

"What's going on?" He asked his wife seriously, as she released his hand and indicated he should take a seat. She returned a momentarily sorrowful glance that was quickly wiped away by a determined look he was coming to associate as her version of a no-nonsense command look.

"Change of plans." She said simply and indicated the other Rangers should also take a seat.