The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.

John Milton

Paradise Lost, Lines 253-55

"OK, little sister, mount up."

Heath stood at Nox's head, gently stroking her neck, ready to settle the mare if need be, though she was showing no signs of distress. Audra swung into the saddle with a smile of pure joy. Nox was as still and calm as the mountain they stood upon, and Audra leaned forward to throw her arms around the horse's neck.

"Oh, you big, beautiful, girl! I'm so proud of you."

Jarrod smiled up at her. "We're proud of you, honey. Really proud."

Nick came over to stand by Heath, who was adjusting the bit-less bridle they had brought for Nox. He leaned an arm on his shoulder. "Nice work, the both of you. You make a good team." He studied the mare's conformation with interest, as he'd had little hands-on experience with draft horse breeds. "I don't think Nox and I have been properly introduced, now that I think of it," he said to Audra. "We had an argument – which, for the record, I won – but that doesn't really count as an introduction. Particularly with such a royal-looking animal as this."

Heath glanced at him with a bemused smile as he stepped around to check her cinch on the off side. "You had an argument? What are you talking about?"

Audra leaned toward Heath with a sympathetic smile. "You weren't exactly awake at the time. You had fainted, in fact. The unconscious prince-in-distress being rescued by the damsel," she confided with a wink.

Heath, momentarily speechless, looked in vain to his laughing brothers for support. Pleased to see Heath at a loss for a comeback, Audra turned back to Nick with a gracious smile and made the proper introductions. "Nox, this is my brother Nicholas. Nicholas, this is Nox, formerly known as Sombra."

Nick removed his hat. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am." Nox tossed her head and then gave Nick a good nudge with her nose in greeting.

"Oh, I do hope we can find Ilsa and Peter when we get back home," She said wistfully. "Can you imagine how happy they'd all be?"

"I wouldn't get your hopes up too high, Audra," Nick said.

"Ain't no real harm in lifting up hope, girl," Hannah said, as she approached from the cabin, "but plenty to gain. And don't you look beautiful up there. Like a princess."

"Ready to go rescue some more princes, I think."

"Our list of things to do does not include rescuing princes, I'm afraid," Jarrod commented, "but I'll be happy to have your help purchasing some hardware and lumber." He climbed into the driver's seat of the wagon. Jingo was the chosen cart horse for the day, an assignment he accepted with his usual equanimity.

"You all be careful, hear?"

"Yes ma'am," Heath answered, climbing up on Nike.

"I'll get started on that roofing," Nick said. "Shouldn't take long."

"I 'spect not," Hannah said. As the three headed toward the trail, she called out, "Hurry back and don't be late for lunch! Me 'n Nick'll be waiting for you with something tasty!"

Heath looked at the sky and then just shook his head with a smile, as Hannah's laugh followed them down the trail.

The town of Strawberry seemed to Heath even more ragged and bleak than it had just six months ago, though he had to admit he hadn't been looking too closely on his last visit. He hadn't been looking too closely at anything, then, to be honest; not at the town, nor at Hannah, nor even at his own state of mind.

Last night the thought of coming into Strawberry made him queasy and anxious; those feelings were intensifying as they rode into the outskirts of the half-empty, four-road mining town. He was preoccupied with the vivid nightmare that had waked him that morning. The images moved over everything he saw, coloring and distorting the scene around him like smoked glass. He wished he could just push the memory aside, but the further into the center of town they rode, the jumpier he became; he was seeing people (and dogs) at the edges of his vision, and hearing words in the hiss of the wind between the buildings.

It's just a poor, run-down town with poor, hopeless people, he reminded himself. Matt was hopeless, and weak, and mean, and that's all he was. Martha too. They're gone. He repeated these thoughts to himself a few times as they seemed to help him settle down. He was aware of Jarrod watching him closely. He took a deep breath and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring nod.

He turned his attention instead to Audra, who was in heaven astride Nox.

"Do you see her gait? She's like riding on a cloud! She floats!"

And she truly did seem to float. Her high-stepping, powerful gait was lovely and graceful, and he smiled picturing her drawing a covered wagon across the entire country. It was hard to believe this was the same bereaved, skeletal horse that had arrived to the Barkley Ranch just two months ago, scarred and fearful and combative.

That horse kinda sounds like you, Heath, he could hear Frank laughing. Maybe Audra can work some of that mojo on you as well.

Heath smiled to himself, amazed as always at this phenomenon that was his family now. He wondered if it would ever seem routine.

"She's beautiful, honey." He took advantage of the ride to town to observe and assess more carefully the mare's hooves, her balance and alignment, and the movement of her joints. He expected he'd have to do her shoeing himself, and probably do it cold, as he doubted there was even a farrier working in Strawberry now, or a forge up and running that he could use. He was going to have to clean and trim her feet carefully and then hope to find some shoes that would fit, because he wasn't going to be able to make much in the way of adjustments.

The hardware/general store appeared reasonably well-stocked, and contained a counter for food and drink as well. There were even a few customers inside. A quick, reluctant look across the street showed Heath that the hotel was boarded up and closed. Jarrod caught his anxious glance and got another nod from Heath that he was still OK with the situation. They pulled up to the hitching rail in front of the store. Jarrod and Audra went inside with their list, while Heath took Nox's lead and rode to the far side of town where the livery and smithy were located.

This was a part of town that had a few good memories for Heath, though from many years ago. The old men that had let him work the livery or hang around and learn the farrier's trade had moved on or died long ago. He wondered if there was anyone still here he knew – or anyone here at all, he thought, as he dismounted outside what now appeared to be a deserted place of business.

There appeared to be some weather moving in, and the wind had picked up, cold and erratic. Heath decided to bring both horses indoors. The buildings were unlocked, so he walked Nike and Nox inside, unsaddled them both, and gave them each some water from a rusty hand pump in the corner that looked like it hadn't been cleaned or oiled for fifteen years – that is, since Heath had last tended to it as the livery's ten-year-old assistant. There was no fresh feed or hay, and no surprise, no fire in the forge next door. Stepping into the smithy, Heath fished a dollar out of his pocket and then brushed some cobwebs aside to leave it at the desk, though it seemed unlikely anyone would find it. He began to look around the dusty, dim space to see if he could even find the materials he'd need.

He was pleased to find a functional set of hoof working tools, and a barrel full of horseshoes of various sizes, all piled together in no particular order. Figuring there was no point in continuing unless he had the shoes he needed, he proceeded to go through the whole barrel to see if he could find one full set of shoes big enough for Nox's draft horse feet. He had his whole head and upper body inside the barrel, groping along the bottom, almost despairing of finding the fourth, when his hand fell on the last one of the set. Gratified and looking forward to his task, he scrambled back out and stood with the tools rolled in a canvas under his arm and two shoes in each hand.

The distinctive ratchet sound of a Henry lever-action rifle crackled through the dusty air. Heath froze, his heart pounding in his throat, his body reacting even before his mind had fully processed what he had heard. There came the rustling murmur of several more men – Three? Four? – entering the room behind him. A gust of wind whined through the cracks and gaps of the decaying building, and he reminded himself to breathe. The voice he heard sounded vaguely familiar.

"Hold it right there, dog. Don't turn around. Drop those tools, put your hands on top of your head, and back up to the middle of the room where I can see you."

Heath complied, slowly, carefully.

"Kneel, and keep your hands where they are."

Heath did as he was told. He heard another person enter the room. He cleared his throat and tried to swallow, then said, "Look, if you're thinkin' I'm –"

"Quiet, dog. Well, Matt, looks like you were right about someone bein' in here stealing stuff. And it looks like he's a horse thief too."

"Better catch even than that, Mitch," came the ragged rough voice Heath knew so well. "This one's still got a price on his head in several Nevada territories. We get him across the state line, I think we could retire."