When Al entered the bedroom, Catherine was awake, her gaze landing on him instantly. It wasn't immediately obvious as to her mood, but her eyes were wide, huge in her face, and he thought he detected the sheen of unshed tears reflected in the light, which only served to unnerve him.

"You summoned me," he said, stopping at the foot of the bed.

"I need to know," she said softly.

"Know what?"

"What happened."

"When?"

She closed her eyes briefly in frustration, "You know when. When I was sick. I need to know what happened and...and what you did."

He found himself irritated by her tone. "Implying that my actions done during those dark days were wrong and leave me liable to rebuke?"

"I have a right to know."

"And what is it you wish to know, exactly?" he asked, wandering over to the window by the bed. "How I found you, lying in your own shit in the privy? My thoughts and feelings when Doc told me you wouldn't live? Or perhaps you'd like to know what I said to your father on my visits to his grave when I begged for your life."

"I need to know why you intended to kill Wai-Lee."

"To what end? Will the knowledge bring you some kind of comfort?"

"I need to know," she insisted.

"I see," he wandered back to the foot of the bed again. "Of all the examples I gave you, mere moments ago, you choose to focus on the act you believe holds the greater sin. I don't deny I intended to kill her. I had the boys bring her here and lock her in the whores' room. She was the source of the infection and, from everything Doc was telling me, would be the orchestrator of your demise. And I would have killed her too, my knife was at her throat..." he gestured with his hands. "And yet, upon her confession of impending motherhood, I found that I could not fulfil the task. And so I released her back to her people. No doubt in months to come we will see her in Chinamens' Alley, a fat, Chink baby swaddled close to her breast." He watched as she closed her eyes again. "Knowing that another bears a child when ours is gone brings me as much agony as it does you."

Catherine opened her eyes again, a lone tear escaping from one corner. "She wasn't to blame."

"No? It was her water that infected you."

"And how was she to know it was infected? How would she know that she wasn't helping me that day she allowed me to drink it? Do you believe it was her intention to deliberately harm me?"

"Of course not..."

"And yet, had I died, you would have murdered her!"

"Your self-righteousness fucking amazes me!" Al exclaimed. "Your only part in the whole sorry affair was to lie helpless in bed while the rest of us dealt with the consequences and yet now you judge as if on high!" He shook his head. "I apologise if the truth offends you, Catherine, and I'll ensure the next time your life hangs in the fucking balance I let it tip the other fucking way!"

"Al..."

"Actions done were borne out of feelings that I am coming to wish more and more I had never allowed free rein. More often than not I long for the days when we slept apart, our conversation was limited to the wellbeing of the whores and you meant no more to me than the average cunt in the camp!" He threw open the office door, unwilling to look at her a moment longer, stormed along the balcony and down the stairs into the bar.

"Something got you piqued, boss?" Dan asked as he thundered his arrival.

Al downed the glass of whisky that was waiting for him, fury coursing through him. How dare she awaken and automatically accuse him of wrongdoing? She, who had no fucking idea what his thoughts had been, what decisions he had faced and what questions he had asked himself.

"You looking like you might want to take your blade to someone," Dan continued in a poor attempt at wit.

Al glared at him. "Fucking cunt was more appealing when she was fucking dying."

XXXX

As the evening sounds from the bar grew quieter and the traffic on the thoroughfare was limited to the occasional single horse or drunken laugh, Catherine waited for Al to return to their bed. She hadn't slept since he had flounced out of the room earlier and found herself replaying his words over and over in her head. Her conclusion was that perhaps her recriminations had been somewhat without foundation. She could well remember the agonising hours after she had accidentally stabbed him those months ago and the feelings of guilt and helplessness. Had there been another to blame, wouldn't she too have wanted to exact revenge? If Claggett had been the culprit, would she not have slit his throat or at least welcomed the action done by another?

Perhaps...perhaps it was the fact that Wai-Lee was a woman that the thought of Al raising his hand, or weapon, to her made her stomach turn over. Not that she hadn't witnessed it in the past, indeed been the unintended target of such. But since their marriage she had come to hope that side of him had been irrevocably changed. His admissions to her proved, however, it still lurked under the surface.

What felt like hours later, she heard the office door open and he appeared again at the foot of the bed, his features drawn. "Should I sleep elsewhere?" he asked.

"No," she replied. Silently, he began to undress and she watched him, waiting for the right moment to attempt to reconcile. "I..."

When she didn't continue, he turned to face her. "You got more words for me?"

"Not...not words in the same vein," she replied, plucking at the blanket across her legs. "An apology. An understanding. I would not wish...I would not wish us to return to our previous relationship, even if you would. I find the idea of how it was between us..." she trailed off, unsure she could even articulate it. "I simply find myself..." she sighed. "I find myself afraid that if you could find it within you to murder a woman for sharing some water...that perhaps, someday, I might also incur such wrath and that perhaps you might...ridiculous as I know it sounds..."

"Jesus fucking Christ..." he stared at her. "That's your idea of a fucking apology? A fucking understanding? Revealing to me your fear that I might, one day, put a blade to your throat for an indiscretion?"

"Your hand around my throat once was enough," she said before she could stop herself.

His face hardened and she instantly regretted her words. "And had I squeezed the life out of you then, we might all have been spared the consequences that followed." Pulling his clothes back on, he lifted the half empty whisky bottle he had left beside the bed and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" she cried.

"There are others I might sleep beside without the fear of recrimination," he replied before leaving and slamming the door behind him.

July 3rd 1876

"Al's in a fucking bad mood," Jewel relayed the following morning as she brought Catherine some breakfast. "He's been shouting at me all fucking morning about my leg. And it ain't half as bad as it used to be since I got my boot from the doc."

Catherine didn't want to admit that she had heard Al's morning wrath. Perhaps the whole camp had. "I reckon that's my fault," she admitted as the tray was placed on the bed in front of her and she contemplated the bacon and eggs the other woman had made. "I riled him up some last night."

"S'pose it's good to have him back to fucking normal again."

"In what sense?"

"When he's fucking shouting, it means things is ok again. It's when he's quiet that it don't feel right."

Catherine looked at her. "Was he quiet a lot? Before, I mean."

"Sometimes. Mostly when he was sitting with you." Jewel made her way back to the bedroom door. "I'm sorry about the baby," she added, her face twisted into a look filled with pity.

Catherine smiled sadly, "Me too." When the other woman had gone, she devoured the breakfast and then thought about getting up from the bed. She felt more energised than she had done of late and lying around in a bed that her husband no longer wished to share with her only served to increase her melancholy. She was halfway across the room towards the dresser when the door opened and Doc appeared before her.

"What in God's name are you doing?" he demanded upon seeing her.

"Making use of myself," she replied.

"You should still be resting," he said, putting his bag on the floor and taking her arm. "It's only been a few days since your recovery and you ain't well enough yet to be gallivanting about like a mule."

"I ain't gallivanting," she protested, "but I can't lie in that bed any longer."

"You need at least a week's bed rest and you've only had a few days!"

"I've been in bed for days as it is! Please Doc...I'm going to lose my mind if I have to lie there any longer." She refrained from mentioning that it wouldn't be boredom that did for her, but the sadness and anxiety of her situation.

He sighed and shook his head, "Ain't like I can chain you to the bed. But you should let me get one of the girls to help you dress at least."

"I don't need them to." He said nothing as she lifted her hairbrush and slowly began untangled the knots that days of sedition had caused. "I bled last night," she said, almost ashamed of the revelation. It had been a mild staining, reminiscent of the monthly bleed that she hadn't encountered for so long.

"That's normal," Doc replied unperturbed.

"I wanted to ask you...I mean..."

"Ask me what?"

"If I were to...I mean...if fortune favoured me with...with another child..." she paused. "Would I...I mean..."

"There is nothing that I can find that would prevent you from bearing a healthy child in the future, Catherine," Doc reassured her.

"I see..." she lowered her eyes.

"Was that not the answer you were hoping for?"

"No... I mean, yes of course."

"You need to give your body time to heal. You've been through the mill these last few weeks. You need rest and quiet and if you ain't getting that from Al I'll tell him he needs to give you it, no arguments."

"No," she said hurriedly. "Don't say anything to Al. Things are...well..."

"You had that talk?" She nodded. "He needs time to heal and readjust too. He had resigned himself to the fact that you would never awaken again."

Catherine nodded, fighting the lump in her throat. "And now he wishes I hadn't."

XXXX

The sight of Catherine, an hour or so later, coming slowly down the stairs towards the bar filled Al with horror. He watched as each step was made with careful precision, her hand gripping the banister for support and his natural instinct was to march over, sweep her up into his arms and return her to her bed, where she clearly needed to be. Pride stopped him, however. Her words still stung and though his concern for her wellbeing was great, his anger remained.

Upon seeing him, she made her way over towards him and leaned against the bar. "Did you find a more amiable companion to sleep beside last night?" she asked, her voice low so that others wouldn't hear her words.

Al looked at her. "You would disapprove?"

"Of course I would fucking disapprove!" she snapped. "You may have taken the tone of my earlier questioning to suggest recrimination for your actions and perhaps I would accept that you would be correct..."

"A surprising admission."

"But that does not mean that I would accept or...or condone your seeking comfort elsewhere. I took my vows to you seriously, regardless of your own feelings on the subject." She paused while Dolly passed with a customer. "I have no wish to alter our arrangement, one which I, at any rate, have come to find great pleasure in."

"Other than when my hand is around your throat?" his voice dripped with sarcasm, unwilling to allow her an easy passage back into his good graces.

Catherine looked away. "You cannot deny that you laid hands on me..."

"I don't seek to. Nor do I seek to deny my intentions towards the Chink which you have found yourself so determined to hold me to account for." He uncorked a fresh bottle and poured the contents into a glass, downing it quickly in one.

"Perhaps I did not give enough credence to your feelings," she admitted. "I know you care for me, but perhaps I had not considered how my anticipated passing would affect you. That being said, it does not equate with you seeking comfort in the mouth of a whore..."

"As I did not do," Al interrupted her, slamming the glass back down on the bar. "If truth must be given then I suggest you make inquiry with Dan, who will tell you I slept uncomfortably in a chair in this very bar." He nodded upon her look of surprise. "You appear to consider my motives and feelings to be liable to frequent change. I assure you, they do not." He stepped closer to her. "If you expect apology for my dealings with the Chink, you will be left wanting. I make none for actions done out of desperate anger and, yes I shall admit it, fear. A life for a life, as I considered yours to be over. Yet you fail to bestow credit for my retreat from my chosen path even before I knew you would return to us."

"I'm sorry..."

"And as for partaking of my right to fuck whomever I may choose in this joint, given my previous character and predilections, the fact I chose to forgo that should commend me to you." She looked away. "Now I don't want to fucking speak of this again, am I understood?"

Catherine nodded, "Yes."

"Good," he said, pushing the bottle towards her. "Here. You look like you could use a fucking drink."

XXXX

"How is she?" Doc asked, when he returned to the Gem that evening.

"She sat at that table for a good hour conversing with the customers before retiring back to bed," Al replied. "For a woman so near death but a few days ago, I'd wager her condition is good."

"I'm pleased."

"As am I."

"What of her spirits?"

"She seems more than capable of inciting argument therefore I would conclude her spirits are returned," Al downed another glass of whisky.

"Good," Doc said, "I was concerned at her earlier melancholy, despite the state being natural in her circumstances. She asked me about another child and I wanted to convey to you the same advice I gave her. Which is, I see no reason for a healthy, full term pregnancy to be possible in the future."

Al froze on his friend's words. Another child? So soon after the loss of the previous? He had only begun to take on board the realisation of what fatherhood would mean when it was snatched away. And, if he were being honest with himself, had Catherine been without child in the first place, there would have been no need for the Chink's water and, therefore no cholera. The thought of being responsible for another, potentially similar, situation filled him with dread.

"I doubt there will be any other pregnancies, Doc," he opined casually, pouring another drink.

"Catherine is generally a very healthy young woman..."

"There ain't going to be any other pregnancies," Al interrupted, fixing his gaze on his friend. "Take my meaning and let's speak no more about it."

Doc paused for a moment. "Al...if you have concerns..."

"Have a drink, Doc. Have a fuck on the house if you feel so inclined and returned tomorrow to check over the whores and ensure Catherine's physical health continues to improve. But any more talk like this, and you and I will quarrel."

He was saved from further conversation by E.B coming into the hotel, looking furtively around and then hurrying over to him.

"I met the man, Al. I even spoke to him!"

"I wouldn't have thought any less given that you're now, technically, in his employ," Al said, steering him away from Doc, relieved at the distraction. "What topics did your conversation with Mr Hearst alight upon?"

"He asked about the camp and about the claims. I think he was particularly interested in Mrs Ellsworth's claim, but I did not divulge any information about it to him." E.B looked proud of himself. "I was a wall of silence."

"I'm sure you fucking were," Al replied wryly. "Did he give you any indication as to his plans?"

"None that I could glean. He seemed very eager for me to leave him to settle into his room."

"Well done, E.B," Al congratulated him. "Let's give him time to settle in before we consider what moves we might have to make."

XXXX

Catherine was just about to slip her chemise over her head, when the door opened and Al came into the room. She paused, mid action, and couldn't help but notice how his eyes flickered over her naked body. She waited, wondering if he intended to approach her, but he stayed where he was, one hand on the door handle as though for support, and she swiftly completed her action. Only when the garment safely concealed her body did he step fully inside and close the door behind him. He moved over to his desk, withdrew a bottle from the drawer and poured two glasses. She padded over to join him and they drank in silence.

"What did you say to Daddy?" she asked suddenly. He looked at her questioningly. "When you visited his grave?"

"I asked him not to revisit my sins upon you," Al replied. "I asked him to overlook the dubiety of our union and spare you. Perhaps for once in his fucking life he listened to me."

She smiled. "Perhaps. Though I understood you didn't believe in talking to the dead."

"Only when the situation warrants it."

She lowered her eyes. "Al...I am sorry..."

"I said we wouldn't discuss it further," he reminded her quietly, but firmly.

She nodded and then moved around the desk to stand in front of him, so close that he could almost feel her skin quivering against his. He felt a mixture of emotions. Obvious arousal at her closeness, anger at her earlier words...and guilt. He said nothing, until she moved closer into him and placed her hands on his chest.

He moved back from her, finding himself disconcerted by her touch. "Camp business commands my attention. Hearst," he gestured towards the balcony, "is now installed in the hotel having made purchase of it from E.B. Question remains as to his intentions in camp."

"You think his purpose nefarious?"

"Who fucking knows?" He coughed as he caught sight of her nipples, darkly outlined beneath the thin fabric. "You should take yourself to bed. Ain't good for you to endure too much excitement in your first few hours back on your feet."

"I will," Catherine replied. "Will you join me later?"

"Business may take some time. You may already be asleep by the hour it concludes..."

"I'll wait for you," she said, her voice rich with temptation, her eyes full of reconciliation.

Al backed away from her towards the door, "Camp business," he repeated. On her understanding smile, he turned and made his out of the office, down the stairs, through the bar and out the main door, breathing in the humid night air. That he had a hard on was undeniable. That he intended doing anything about it was unthinkable. He glanced up at the balcony doors, closed over, the curtains drawn.

One thing he knew for sure, their relationship would never, could never, be the same again.

THE END

So...a bit of a cliffhanger there for you! Don't worry, there are more stories to come!