So very sorry I haven't updated. I've been sick – like miss-class-even-though-I-hate-missing-class sick – and had lots of exams. But as I finished Fire of Unknown Origin and don't have any other WIPs right now, this will be updated more regularly. And for those of us in the U.S. and Canada…happy The Crimson Ticket Day!

Later that night, after Jane and Teresa had been discovered on the ground near the body, after the men in the wagon train had come running, after Bertram had given a short speech on how the known serial killer and robber was probably, unbeknownst to the main wagon train, traveling among them to the Oregon Territory. "Or else it is someone pretending to be him, although I cannot think of a reason why someone would do that."

Neither, evidently, could Jane. He didn't say much during Bertram's impromptu meeting, and when it was over, he wandered, somewhat shakily, not walking in a completely straight line, to where his and Teresa's tent had been pitched, probably by Kimball or Wayne. Grace was sitting about fifty yards from her family's wagon, staring at the fire, Craig beside her. Teresa wasn't sure where her sons were, but she wasn't overly concerned. Red John Bandit was two weeks ahead of them. They were probably with Sarah and Summer, anyway.

Jane dropped down and crawled into the tent and Teresa followed him. "Jane," she said, looking at him as he curled into a ball on his side. "Jane, talk to me."

"He knows."

Teresa scooted closer to him and looked over his body to see his face. His eyes were closed. "He knows what?"

"He knows that I'm coming," Jane said quietly. "Why else would he have left that face?"

"Maybe he just…wanted to kill someone," she said. "Killers are like that."

"No." Jane rolled on his back and looked up at her. "No, he knows I'm coming. He has no reason to kill someone on that wagon train. Not unless he's sending me a message."

"You're thinking too hard," she said. "You just got your memories back, relax. Try and get some rest."

He sighed. "I can't rest. I can't rest until that monster is dead. Gutted. Like he gutted Angela and Charlotte." He shook his head. "We have to catch up."

"Catch up?" Teresa repeated his words as if she didn't understand.

"We have to catch up, take him by surprise, out him, right here on the Oregon Trail," Jane said.

"How do you know that's not what he is expecting you to do?" Teresa asked. "Maybe he wanted to anger you, wanted you to catch up."

"No, he wanted to defeat me," Jane said. He closed his eyes and let out a pained sigh.

"Jane…" She reached over and took his hands again. "Jane promise me you'll try to sleep. Just tonight. I'll stay right here, and in the morning we can discuss this. Just do this one thing for me."

The fires outside were being put out, she could no longer see him even slightly. But she heard him sigh and then felt a hand on her shoulder, tugging on the fabric of her dress. Getting the message, she laid down next to him and he tilted his head to the side to rest his forehead against hers. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Kimball Mashburn, you be careful!" Summer said, looking up as the young man balanced carefully on a tree branch, leaning over to attempt to fix the top of a rung on her grandfather's wagon.

"I am being careful," he said. "This needs to get fixed or your wagon cover will tear in half the next time we get a strong wind."

"You're so resourceful," she said flirtatiously, giving him a smile. "It's a very attractive trait to have."

He offered her a small smile. "Thanks." Leaning a bit farther, he tugged on the rung, and it snapped slightly back into place. "That should do it," he said. "It's not perfect, but it'll hold. Now-"

Summer screamed as the branch snapped and Kimball dropped to the ground. She thought she had screamed, anyway, maybe she'd just opened her mouth and nothing had come out. As no one came running, despite the Edgecomb wagon being toward the back of the train, she thought it might be the latter.

"Kimball!" she said, running the short distance to where he lay. "Kimball!" She dropped down next to him and reached out her hands, wanting to take him by the shoulders and shake him but unsure if that would cause him any pain. She thanked the full moon for allowing her to see his face.

His eyes opened, and she felt some of the terror leave her body. "Oh, Kimball," she said, leaning over and kissing him once, twice, three times, four.

"Summer," he said, putting a hand up to push her back. "Help me up, I've fallen."

"Are you okay?" she asked him. "Does anything hurt?"

Kimball got to a sitting position and Summer helped haul him to his feet. He winced slightly. "My back hurts." He put a hand behind him and bent slightly. "Aah."

"Here," Summer said, running to the front of her wagon. "Don't move." She crawled inside, stepped over her sleeping grandfather, and found his medicine chest. Pulling out a bottle, she exited the wagon. "Here, Kimball," she said, handing it to him. "Take a sip of this."

"What is it?"

Summer grinned playfully at him. "Take a sip."

Kimball looked at her for another moment, and then sighed, taking the bottle and tipping it up. A small amount of the heavy liquid reached his lips, burned his tongue, left a sweet taste in his mouth.

Summer smiled. "You'll feel better soon."

"What is this?" Kimball asked again.

"Chloro…something," Summer said. "It's not important what it's called. What's important is it tastes good and will help with the pain."

"Chloroform," Kimball said. He knew what chloroform was. And he also knew that his back was feeling better already. He nodded at the bottle as if to thank it, and handed it back to Summer. "I know where to go if I have pain, it looks like."

"Anything I can do for you, Kimball Masburn," Summer said, giving him a courtesy, "I will."