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Chapter 13

Rommie decided to make one last sweep of the town before heading off to her room in the boarding house. It was almost midnight and she hadn't encountered any trouble since she escorted Calvino, the resident drunk, out of the saloon and forced him to go home before his shrew of a wife Astrid came looking for him and woke the whole town. A couple of the guys around the bar had looked like they wanted to start something, but one glance from her and they just ordered more drinks.

It had taken a few days, but the town was starting to accept the fact that she, a woman, was a Deputy Marshal. It probably hadn't hurt that she'd taken two local thugs down single-handedly on the second day, however. She smiled. Ah respect, it sure was nice.

Only one street and one short alley left to go and then she could sink into a nice, hot bubble bath followed by her little bed.

She walked purposefully down the street, scanning left and right. All appeared normal, nice and quiet and still. She peeked down the alley that ran behind the livery stable and, seeing nothing, was about to turn around and head for home when the sound of furious whispers drifted from behind the stable's closed doors.

"I told you not…!" "Just a little cigar… If you wouldn't have bumped…!" "Hurry, get something to put it out!"

Instantly alert, she drew her gun and crept toward the livery, keeping to the shadows. It sounded more like kids messing around than a real problem, but it never hurt to be prepared. When she was within five feet of the door she noticed thin curls of smoke slipping from underneath it.

"Great, just what I wanted tonight," she muttered. "Why do kids always have to experiment with tobacco while hiding in a place full of dry grass?" she raised her eyes and asked the sky.

She reached out and jerked open the door. Smoke poured out around her and she coughed, waving it away with her hands. Through the cloudy billows she saw four shadows race around the corner of the livery and disappear, but she couldn't see them well enough to identify them. And she didn't have time to give chase right now as the flames were spreading quickly through the piles of straw.

She grabbed the bucket one of them had left tipped on the ground and rushed to the watering trough just outside. She was on her third trip back and forth when a very tired, very grumpy looking Rhade road up, intending to bed his horse down for the night at the livery. He blinked for a moment at the piles of smoke, then wordlessly slid off and grabbed another bucket, joining in the fight.

It really wasn't that big of a fire and in a few minutes the two had it out completely. The livery was fine, just down a few stacks of straw and hay and two pitch-forks that had tragically perished in the blaze.

They both staggered outside to the fresh air and leaned against the building, coughing from the smoke and rubbing soot from their faces.

After a few moments, Rhade found his breath again. "Why didn't you call for help?" he demanded.

Rommie looked puzzled. "Why should I have? I had it under control."

"Didn't look very controlled when I rode up."

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it could have gotten way out of hand and burnt the whole place down! And you could have gotten hurt!"

Rommie ignored the first sentence. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she turned to face him squarely. "I knew what I was doing, Mac! I'm not an idiot, like you seem to think I am!"

Rhade stepped away from the barn as well, his voice rising. "I don't think you're an idiot, I –"

"No, you think I'm still a little girl!" Rommie interrupted him. "You think I'm a scabby-kneed little girl whom you can't get rid of and you think you need to protect. Well, I have news for you, Telemachus Rhade, I grew up! I've been to heck and back and I don't need you or anyone else looking out for me! And until you get that through your thick skull all you're gonna see is that little girl in pig-tails!" she paused for breath, her chest heaving, and ran a hand through her hair in anger. "Tell Dylan I'll be by in the morning to discuss the fire. I'm going to bed!"

She stormed off and Rhade watched her go with frustration.

"Ergh!" he growled, turning and punching the livery wall with his fist. Pain shot through his hand and he breathed sharply, forcing himself to calm down and come back to his senses. "No, I don't think you're an idiot, and I don't think you're a little girl," he finally mumbled to the empty space where she had been moments before, shaking his throbbing hand. "I think you are a woman. A very beautiful, very confusing, very frustrating woman!"

He put his waiting horse up for the night and then slunk back to the office and his cot in the back room, convinced, after the day he'd just had, that someone in the cosmos was out to get him.

OOOOO

Rhade stalked through the office about ten to one in the morning, smelling of smoke and muttering about family feuds, frustrating females, and fate. Dylan thought it best to let him alone until morning as he was looking very much like a grumpy grizzly bear.

The Marshal lay back tiredly on his borrowed cot and put his hands behind his head, staring at the cell. The boy had abandoned his own cot hours ago, dragging the blanket with him and wedging himself once more into his little corner. With the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he sat hugging his knees again, too stubborn or too afraid to sleep. And Dylan found it impossible to sleep as well with those too-wise, blue eyes piercing him, following his every move. It was only an hour ago that the boy's pain and exhaustion had finally gotten the better of him. His eyes drifted shut and his head tipped sidewise against the wall in sleep, but even asleep his body remained tense and ridged.

Dylan breathed a sigh of relief that Rhade's entrance hadn't woken him up. He really didn't think he could handle even ten more minutes of that silent, accusing scrutiny.

He had to admit he felt rather bad he had to keep the boy locked up. Not that he completely trusted the kid, he was a convict after all, but it was obvious that the kid had been seriously hurt and abused by someone in the past. It went against everything Dylan stood for to see a child hurt like that and to assist in continuing it.

Of course, that didn't mean he wanted Harper out at the Maru around Beka Valentine, either. It was bad enough that she was practically married to that waste of flesh and bones Bobby Jensen. He really didn't want a little pick-pocket running loose on the place as well, no matter what his sob story was. He'd probably turned those blue orbs on Beka and conned his way into a job, and she didn't even know about his past or what that tattoo meant.

A noise from the cell drew Dylan's attention and he sat up. It came again and he realized the boy was whimpering. Dylan stepped right up to the bars now, curious and a bit concerned. The kid was still asleep, but he was obviously having a dream of some kind, or more appropriately a nightmare. He was trembling. Tears leaked from his eyes and his face was contorted in terror, but he had one fist pressed up against his mouth to block any screams, letting only whimpers escape. His other arm was raised as if to ward off falling blows.

Dylan just watched for a moment, thinking. It was obvious the boy had learned long ago to keep silent while dreaming, to lock his screams or cries deep inside. Dylan wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but he didn't like it.

After a bit, the dream intensified and the boy could no longer keep all his cries inside. "No…!" he whispered in fear. "Please… I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

The words were garbled and barely audible as the boy was obviously trying to hold them back, but in the silence of the office Dylan heard them plainly. They chilled him.

"Hey, kid!" he called quietly, not wanting to frighten him more. "Harper, wake up. You're having a bad dream."

Harper was too caught up in the horror of the dream to hear him. "Please…don't leave me in the dark… Just one candle, please…!"

The boy cringed deeper and his pleading whispers rose in pitch. "Harper!" Dylan called louder. He banged the cell bars.

Harper's eyes shot open, instantly awake. He was breathing heavily and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

"You were dreaming," Dylan explained, trying to expel the fear in those eyes. "Sorry if I startled you, but I needed to wake you up. It's okay now; you can go back to sleep. No one will hurt you here."

Dylan didn't know what else to do or say. He couldn't very well walk into the cell and offer his prisoner comfort. Not only would that be inappropriate, but he was pretty sure that would just freak the kid out more. The boy was safe, no one was going to hurt him despite what he might believe, so there really wasn't much else the Marshal could do at the moment.

Trying to ignore the eyes that followed him and attempted to bore a hole through him once more, Dylan went back to his own cot and lay down. This was already a very long night and it was still far from morning. He sighed deeply.