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Mr Pierce had called his daughter from the door of their home an hour ago, and now I was left alone after finishing our chores to wonder what was going on. It was probably something to do with the huge business deal Mr Pierce was setting up, but every little thing that wasn't normal set me on edge now that Berry's here.

"Mornin', Miss Booker," I look up to see Miss Jones smiling at me. Since the memorial, every small smile she gave had sadness behind it, and was nothing like the bright grin she gave before. The pain behind her eyes told us that she'd lost someone special, too.

"Miss Jones," I take my hat off and gesture for her to sit next to me beside the small fire that was cooking my dinner. "To what pleasure do I owe this?"

"I wanted to ask a small favour, if you don't mind, Miss," she smiles sheepishly at me. "I'm gonna be out of town for a few days, the Marshall requested my presence in Sheridan and well, I may be in need of an escort."

"So what's the question?" I smirk at her and she nudges my shoulder lightly with her own.

"Would you be so kind as to ride shotgun with me to Sheridan?" She inspects her nails and sighs, "I know God wouldn't let anythin' happen to me out there, and I know my father will be watchin' over me to get me to safety but I like the company, Miss Booker."

"And a rifle sure helps you feel safer," I fill in the blanks and she nods slightly, as if ashamed to admit it.

"Somethin' like that. You interested?"

"Sure am. When you wanna be leavin', Miss Jones?" I sling the rifle that's strapped to me around to my front and check the ammunition, already content with what's in my revolver.

"As soon as possible, if that's okay with you," she stands up and I follow her. "Mr Evans hinted at it bein' urgent."

"Why didn't you say so? We'll take the smaller wagon," I nod over to where a couple of wagons and a stagecoach are. "I assume you know how to steer, Miss Jones?"

"Would I be here if I didn't?" She hops up into the driver's seat and frowns over at me. "I just realised. Where's Miss Pierce?"

I looked over to the house where Brittany was still being kept and clench my jaw slightly. I trusted she was safe with her father, and Rachel alone couldn't bring a whole ranch down in a day so I nodded, content with that.

"In the house," I confirm. "Her father wants her here and hey!" I shout over to a man who I fought next to when the Indians attacked and he looks over at me. "When Miss Pierce comes out, you tell her I'm ridin' with Miss Jones to Sheridan and I'll be back soon."

He nods at me and waves before carrying on with his day.

I hear Mercedes snort and I look over at her, confused. "What?" I ask her, and it makes her laugh harder, like I'm part of some big joke I knew nothing about.

"You pretty much run this ranch, Miss Booker," she smiles as she starts the horse, heading towards the town. "You have every man and woman here afeared, and the men more than the women." She shakes her head at me and smirks. "Everyone does your biddin'."

"Glad they know their place," I laugh. "No but, I'm honoured people respect me so much. No-one's taken to me like this before."

"I don't see why," Mercedes waves at a passer-by as we get closer to Sheridan. "You're an honourable woman, Miss Booker, and I'm sure God feels the same way about you."

I cough to hide my laugh. God sure would love a lesbian who's killed more than she could count of His people. I frown. Come to think of it, that probably is in the Bible, somewhere.

"Maybe, Miss Jones. Maybe."

We ride in silence for a few minutes before my curiosity gets the better of me. "If it ain't so rude to ask, Miss Jones, what's your story?"

"My story?"

"I don't know much about you other than you're the priest's daughter and a God-fearing woman. Other than that, you're a bit of an enigma."

"You're quite the enigma yourself, Miss Booker."

I shrug. "There's not much to tell than what people already know. I got on the wrong side of someone with a gun when they wanted my money. Got shot, woke up a few days later on the ranch."

"Them bandits will shoot anyone," Mercedes grumbles to herself and I smirk a little in amusement. "My story, Miss Booker? Some generations ago, my family moved here from Africa on the promise of a better life. Of course, no one could predict the future held outlaws and bandits." She shook her head. "We stuck to our values, though, our morals, and the duty we've held throughout so many generations is spreading the word of God, and I hope to keep it that way."

"Where are your parents?" I ask quietly, knowing this might be a sensitive subject.

"They died, some years ago," she sighs, looking out across the plains littered with cacti. "I was only young, and a bunch of men nearby decided they didn't wanna follow the religion, and they shot my father clean in the head. Mother ran to him, and they shot her, too."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I whisper, rubbing her shoulder in what I hope was a soothing manner. "I shouldn't've asked, Miss."

"It's fine, they're with God now," she smiles sadly, even though there's unspilled tears in her eyes. "I'll be joinin' them, one day."

"Not too soon, I hope." I squeeze her shoulder before resting my hands on my rifle again. "So how do you know the Pierces?"

"Our families have grew up together for a couple of generations. Brittany, Miss Pierce, was actually my best friend growin' up. We spent every day together."

"Looks like I've taken over your job, Miss," we share a laugh as she spurs the horses on. "It's good, though," when she looks over at me, I hasten to explain. "I mean that your families were so close. It's always good to have trust like that, someone to lean on."

"You know somethin' about trust?"

"I know a little," I nod. I used to trust the girl who almost killed me. "I trust the Pierce's with my life. They've been nothin' but family to me since I got here. All of you."

"Anyone's welcome in the House of God, Miss Booker. And because of that, you're welcome in mine."

"Thank you kindly, Miss Jones."

We have no trouble in the remainder of the journey and Miss Jones is soon stopping the wagon in front of the Marshall's office.

"Why, Mr Evans," Miss Jones smiles at the man who's helping her down from the wagon. "How are you, sir?"

"All the better for seein' you, Miss Jones," he grins at her, before turning to tip his hat at me. "Miss Booker."

"Marshall," I smile at him and his eyes fall back to Mercedes.

The two have some staring competition going on and I wait a few minutes, when it becomes uncomfortable. I clear my throat, Mercedes whipping around to smile sheepishly at me. "I ain't gonna be comin' back for a few days, Miss Booker. And I'm sure I'll be able to catch a ride home from someone. You go on ahead and I'll see you soon."

"Yes, Miss. Good to see you, Sam."

"You too, Santana." He offers his arm to Mercedes as she loops hers through the hole.

"God speed, Miss Booker." She throws over her shoulder and I wave at the two of them before turning around to face the rest of the town.

Last time I'd been here, it hadn't been pretty, and I was hoping that wouldn't happen again.

I eye up the saloon, wary that Emma Pillsbury may leech onto me again before deciding to head into the shops, instead. I have a few bucks Brittany had insisted I keep after beating those few guys at poker and I could spend it on what I liked.

I figure something I could actually keep rather than a few shots of cheap hooch would make for a better way of spending, so I walk through the town slowly, seeing what stores they have and what they sell.

The gun store looks tempting, but something makes me go into the general store, with their worldly wares displayed on the front window.

When I walk in and look around the store, I see the reason why.