A/N1: Saddle up!

The web of incidence tightens.

Heaven and Hell

Book Two:

The Hells Are Everywhere

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

Spontaneous Synchronization

Wednesday, Oct.7, 1885
Near Idaho Falls

After school on Wednesday, Chuck rode Jenny to the scene of the stagecoach hold-up.

Johnny Constance, Thad Howells, Number One, the Shaws, and Miss Reynolds - all were whirling in his mind. But at the center of the whirl, his fixed point although she herself was rotating in place, was Sarah.

As she rotated in his mind's eye, he saw her first in the white dress of the Festival and then in the black she wore when she visited his room. He wasn't sure how to reconcile her clothes, her colors - in much the same way that each morning he stalled before choosing his hat, his white one or his black one.

He needed quiet, time to reflect. He rode back to where it all started, to the scene.

But he did not stay on the road, although he rode back and forth over the distance between where the coach had stopped and where Bob's trampled body had lain. After that, he nudged Jenny up the slope to the spot where he had seen the blonde rider. He now believed it was Sarah - but there was still so much about her he did not understand.

The fall Idaho evening sky was blue and orange-red, streaked with gray clouds. A cool breeze was blowing. After sunset, the breeze would be cold.

Chuck was bleary-eyed.

It had been a long day at school. Johnny Constance had been sullen on Monday, sullen on Tuesday and absent that morning. His mother stopped by the school at lunchtime, hoping Johnny had shown up, but he had not. His bed had been empty. Mirabelle was deeply worried. So was Chuck. He had taken Jenny out partly on the irrational hope that he might simply run across Johnny. But he hadn't.

Chuck had not slept well. The visit to Shaw's ranch had upset him more deeply than he knew at the time. The ranch's resources, David's illness, Monica's silence, the daguerreotype, Daniel's smirking, and Chuck's imprudent verbal prods to Daniel - all upsetting.

Daniel. Chuck's sleep had been fitful - he woke with Ahab's words ringing in his head: From Hell's heart, I stab at thee! Hell's heart. What was it Swedenborg had written? The hells are everywhere.

He dismounted and wrapped Jenny's reins around the base of a small tree. She began to nip at the surrounding grass, content. Chuck walked to the giant pine and sat down, resting his back against it, discontent.

Why was Sarah up here that day? Was it just a coincidence?

She told me she had been waiting for me. Had she meant that as a description of her expectant state of mind or as a description of a specific action she had taken - or both?

Chuck had no answers and he had not had a chance to talk to Sarah at all.

Even that night in his room, he had been just drunk enough not to realize that they needed to talk. He had let the feeling of her body against him lull him into sleep. He should have insisted that they talk, that she explain what she told him. If only he had been himself, in full command of his faculties! If only Sarah had said…

"Chuck?"

Chuck looked up. He had been so lost among his thoughts that he had not heard her approach. Given the sleek, heavy-muscled stallion she rode that was hard to believe. Perhaps the horse, like its rider, had mastered silences.

"Sarah?" Chuck stood, never taking his eyes off Sarah.

She was dressed in black, head to toe, and had a black bandana tied around her hair. Her face was flushed by her ride, her blue eyes intensely alive, as they had been in his room that night.

"It was you, up here, that day."

Sarah's eyes dropped but she nodded. "What are you doing here, Chuck?"

"Wrestling angels, I guess, good and bad." He glanced away from her. "As much as anything, I've been thinking about you."

A half-smile formed on her face and she looked up. "Am I a good angel or a bad one, Chuck?"

A hint of something - mischief? - in her eyes that made him unsure which answer she hoped he would give. He gazed at her, black on black. Her smile grew. "Is it really that hard to answer me, Chuck?" Her voice lilted.

He forced his thoughts back under control. "A good angel, Sarah." The smile slowly left her face and she studied him.

Her voice was low when she spoke, and her horse trembled under her as she did. "What if I am both, Chuck?"

Chuck stepped closer. Sarah's horse snorted, tensed. Chuck paused.

"It's okay, boy," Sarah said, rubbing the horse's neck. Chuck extended his hand and rubbed near where Sarah was rubbing. The horse relaxed. Sarah gave Chuck a curious look but did not comment.

"If you are both, Sarah" Chuck whispered, looking up at her as he continued to stroke the horse, "then I want both, all of you."

Sarah's half-smile returned but with reservation, a quarter-smile. "Chuck, there are things you need to know about me, about my family…"

"And there are things you need to know about me, my family…"

They both fell quiet and looked at each other. The horse snorted again but more softly. Chuck laughed as he looked at Sarah. "I'm pretty sure he's finding the silence uncomfortable."

Sarah shrugged. "I guess that makes three."

Chuck nodded. "I guess so." He extended his hand to help Sarah off the horse. She looked at his hand but made no move to take it. She bit her lower lip instead.

"I...I shouldn't...I can't stay, Chuck. Like you, I was trying to think. I think best when I am riding, when we" - she patted the black horse -"are tearing through the countryside."

Chuck listened and continued to rub the horse. "What's his name?"

"I've never named him. The ranch hands called him Demonio. But that is not his name. It's what they call him"

Nodding, Chuck removed his hand from the horse and stepped back, looking at him. "I've never seen his equal."

Sarah was staring at Chuck as she answered, but he did not realize it. "Me, either."

"Do you recall that passage in Job, Sarah, when God speaks to Job out of the whirlwind?"

"Yes, near the end."

"Right. When I look at him, your horse, I see God in the whirlwind."

Sarah stared at Chuck again and he realized it this time. "What, Sarah?"

'I've never known what to call him - he has no name - but I will call him Whirlwind." She leaned down and patted the horse. She whispered to him: "Whirlwind." The horse nickered.

Sarah sat up, grinning. "He's happy with that. Thanks, Chuck."

Chuck extended his hand to her again. She took it this time.

As she dismounted, she threw herself into Chuck's arms and began to kiss him greedily. He kissed her the same way. When they broke apart, Sarah licked her lips, then playfully kissed the tip of Chuck's nose.

She became self-conscious after that, and she turned away, leading Whirlwind toward Jenny. The horses greeted each other calmly, blowing then nuzzling one another's coat. Chuck stood and watched. Sarah laughed softly as she tied Whirlwind beside Jenny. "Quite a day, huh, boy? You get called Whirlwind and you find a woman friend? It's raining blessings."

Sarah turned and walked back to Chuck. She scanned the area around them, then led him by the hand back to beneath the giant pine where she found him.

She sat down and tugged Chuck down beside her.

"Sarah, Ellie told me she talked to you at Patel's. She told you she sold our house. I have half the money from it coming to me. It should be available at the bank in a few days. If that money could help you or your father in any way, you are welcome to it. You could take it, Sarah, and get away from here, away from Daniel. Run."

She gazed at him softly. "Would you come with me, Chuck? Run with me?"

"Not right away. I'd have to make sure that Ellie and Morgan and Molly are settled, okay." I can't leave until I have settled things with Shaw.

She put her head on his chest. "Thank you for the offer, Chuck, but you know it can't work. I couldn't leave Dad here to face the Shaws. You couldn't leave Ellie and Morgan and Molly to face them. We can't run, even if it is a wonderful dream...getting on the train, getting a private compartment, getting married at the first stop where we could, so we could...use the private compartment…" She snuggled closer to him, preventing him from seeing her face clearly, but he could see her blush.

He pulled her against him. "I know, I just had to offer. I can't stand the thought of...of…"

She trembled in his arms. "I can't, either…I can't give myself to him, Chuck, or be...taken. Oh, Chuck!" She began to cry. Chuck held her.

"I'll stop him, Sarah. I will."

"No, Chuck," she pushed him away, allowing him to see her wet cheeks. "No, don't do something foolish. Daniel is a dangerous man. And you, Chuck, are not."

"How can you be sure, Sarah. Good and bad angels, remember? If you are both, can't I be both?"

Sarah studied him again, looking into his eyes as if she were sounding his depths with her eyes. After a moment, she shook her head. "No. You may believe you are both or can be both, Chuck, but you can't."

Chuck felt a flash of annoyance - and of guilt. I've vowed to kill your fiancé. "How do you know, Sarah? I'm not some weak-kneed do-gooder, a glowing, white-livered bookworm."

"Chuck, I do not think of you like that. You are a strong man, the strongest I've ever known" - she ran her hand back-and-forth across his chest and the tip of her tongue showed between her lips as she did, and her breath caught, " and I don't question your courage. Not for a minute." She leaned forward and kissed him quickly.

She sat back and her face became shy. "Chuck, if...you want to...I want to. I'll give myself to you, right here, right now. I want to, I really want to. I want it to be you…the first, the only." She ran one hand across his chest again, and she used her other to take his hand and press it against her chest.

Chuck was breathing fast; Sarah too. Chuck gently pulled his hand back. "Sarah, no. There is nothing I want more, never in my life have I wanted anything more - but not like this, not now. I want you to give yourself to me...as my wife."

Sarah's face split into a sad smile.

"What?"

"I wasn't exaggerating, Chuck. I really want to. But you also just proved my point. You are good, Chuck."

"But, Sarah, I really want to, too. Really."

She leaned close to him, the mischief in her eyes again. "I know you do, Chuck. That makes your refusal more, not less proof of my point." She leaned into him, pressing her chest against him and kissing him again. The kiss grew heated, heated - until Sarah leaned away from Chuck, ending it. She sighed and winked at him, smiling with her kiss-swollen lips. "My good angel."

Chuck took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "So, we're stuck here. There has to be some way of stopping the wedding."

Sarah gave Chuck a dejected shrug. "I haven't been able to come up with anything."

Chuck decided it was time. "Sarah, how much do you know about Daniel, really? He seems worse than just smug...You called him dangerous. Do you know if he had...any sort of relationship with Miss Reynolds?"

Sarah straightened. "Why do you ask, Chuck?"

"It isn't common knowledge, but Dr. Woodcomb saw a man answering Shaw's description talking to her at the window - the window to my room, the one you used. She was dead the next day."

Sarah's face whitened and Chuck quickly went on. "Now, Devon couldn't positively identify the man as Daniel, but…"

"Why didn't Devon make this common knowledge, Chuck?"

"He didn't want it to seem like a flimsy attempt to redirect blame from himself. He couldn't claim in good conscience that the man was Daniel, and he did not want to accuse a man falsely."

"Yes, but he let himself be suspected. Some still suspect him."

"I know, but he's likely through the worst of it now; the sheriff no longer suspects him."

"But the court of public opinion, Chuck, the one that Mrs. Justus presides over, it still suspects him."

Chuck took her hand. "Devon made his choice to do things as he has. It's been hard on him and on his business, but I believe he acted honorably."

She smiled at Chuck. "Of course, you do. But, to answer your earlier question, I know of no relationship between Miss Reynolds and Daniel. I don't recall ever so much as seeing them in the same room, except at church. He's never mentioned her to me or in my hearing." She stopped. "I do know that - before our engagement, anyway - he used to visit upstairs at The Bar None."

Chuck let that pass. "Has he ever...hurt you?"

Sarah's brow contracted. "No, not really. He...manhandles me sometimes. I stomped on his foot a couple of different times, and since then, he mostly behaves - unless you're around, and I haven't dared react then, Chuck. Why do you ask? Do you think he really could have had something to do with Miss Reynolds' death?"

Chuck sighed. "I don't know."

He could not tell her about Jill. It would mean telling her about the visions, telling her why he came to Idaho Falls. It would mean explaining who Jill was, explaining Molly. It would mean confessing the vendetta. But on top of it all, if he convinced her, it would make her already impossible position more impossible. Telling her might start a range war.

Chuck needed to keep her in the dark for a little longer - long enough to come up with something. A gunfight was the last resort. He would keep practicing. But he would keep working on what happened to Miss Reynolds, keep trying to figure it out. He hated himself for it but he said no more.

"But you believe he did, Chuck?"

Shrugging, Chuck shook his head. "I don't...I don't know. It's confusing. There seems to be no solid evidence to go on at all."

"God, Chuck, this just gets worse and worse. I don't like Daniel, to put it mildly. But I've been able to pretend to so far, mostly. If I thought…"

"Don't. Don't think. Don't think that. Keep pretending a while longer. We'll figure something out."

She sat for a moment, then nodded. She flexed her shoulders, lifted her chin. "Chuck, I need you to know something, something about me and pretending, about me and…"

A sound of riders reached them and Sarah stopped talking. They looked down at the road. Two riders. One of them was the man they were talking about. The other had his hat low on his head, unidentifiable.

"Oh, no," Sarah whispered. "They might be looking for me. Daniel was not supposed to come to the ranch tonight but…"

"Go, Sarah. Get on Whirlwind. They're heading the wrong way. You'll be far ahead of them even if they turn around. You'll only increase the distance. I doubt any horse could run with yours, much less catch him. Go!"

She ran to Whirlwind, untied him and climbed on. She looked at Chuck for a second. "Know this, Chuck Bartowski. Sarah Walker loves you."

Chuck blinked back instant tears. "And Chuck Bartowski loves Sarah Walker. Now, go!"

She shook the reins and that was all the signal Whirlwind needed. A black flash and they were gone.

Although Chuck untied Jenny, he did not get on.

He stood with her reins in his hand, watching the road. If Daniel turned around, he would almost certainly stay on the road. If so, Chuck would be sure to cross his path. He knew that might end badly for him, but he also knew there was no way that Daniel would ride past him. Chuck could make doubly sure that Sarah got away. He had no idea where she kept Whirlwind or changed her clothes - but he knew she could not leave the Walker ranch on that horse, dressed that way. She needed time if Daniel was looking for her, maybe more time than Whirlwind could purchase for her.

Chuck stood for a long time, more than half an hour, but Daniel never returned. Chuck got on Jenny and headed back toward town. It would be dark, or close to it, when he got there.

He was riding along, reviewing his conversation and kisses with Sarah, when he heard a rider. He was almost certain it was only one, not two. The rider was coming from behind Chuck, moving fast, perhaps faster than was safe in the twilight. Chuck nudged Jenny to the side of the road. The rider came near, then passed Chuck. Chuck turned to the rider and the rider to Chuck.

Even in the twilight, Chuck knew her. It was Carina Miller. She was dressed like a man. A cowboy hat, her hair gathered beneath it. She had on a flannel shirt and a vest, the vest hiding her figure, and a pair of thick, dark trousers. Boots. Chuck looked her over again, not believing his own eyes. But the smile and the challenge in her eyes made her unmistakable.

"Carina?"

"Howdy, Boston. Long time, no talk."

"You told me to stay away."

She nodded, frowned. "I know. Thanks for listening. And thanks for nothing."

"Damned either way?"

" 'Fraid so, Boston. I'm was going to be pissed if you listened and pissed if you didn't. Woman's prerogative." She shrugged.

Chuck nodded to her clothes. "Your claim on that prerogative is...um...tenuous this evening, Carina."

She grinned after looking down at herself as if she had forgotten what she was wearing. "What? This old thing?"

"May I ask why you are dressed like John Casey?"

Carina guffawed, at once a creditable interpretation of Casey and a genuine laugh, despite the mimicry. "That's funny, Boston. Maybe I did sort of have him in mind."

"So, may I ask?"

"You may but I may not answer."

"Why are you dressed like John Casey?"

She gave Chuck a look and then a long, slow shrug. "It's a...work thing."

She said no more and they rode on, the deepening darkness obscuring them from one another.

"That's all I get?"

"Oh, I'd like to give you more, Boston, a lot more, but that's not in our cards, I fear." He heard the leather of her saddle creak. She had straightened more in the saddle. "I've got to go, Boston. Sneak in. Can't have everyone in town seeing me like this. Keep my...masquerade to yourself, okay?"

"Okay."

She put her hand on his arm for a second and then she spurred her horse to a gallop. The darkness swallowed her.

When Chuck finally got back to Mrs. Fitzsimmons', she was seated in the living room, weeping.

She looked awful, her eyes puffy, hardly able to speak. Chuck crossed to her. Wobbling, she stood. "They found him out in the woods. He was just...hanging there."

She grabbed Chuck and hugged him. He hugged her back. After a moment, between sobs, he asked. "Mrs. Fitzsimmons, who did they find?"

"Johnny, my nephew, Johnny. He hanged himself in the woods."

The room spun around Chuck. "Oh, dear God, Clarel. I'm so sorry. Is he…"

"He's alive - but he ain't awake. Doc Woodcomb's' tending to him. Ellie's with them. Molly's in bed, asleep."

Chuck stayed with Mrs. Fitzsimmons long enough to see her go to her room, then he left the house, dashing up the street to Devon's.

Chuck opened the door. Devon was kneeling next to a cot. Johnny Constance was on it. His neck was badly swollen, purple. He was breathing; Chuck could hear the rasp. Ellie was standing next to Devon, holding a tray.

"Devon, Ellie, how is he?"

Devon stood. "I don't know, Chuck. He's not responsive to anything I do."

"He hanged himself?"

Devon shook his head sadly. "Yes, they found him in the woods."

"Who did?"

Devon shrugged. "I don't know. They cut him down and took him to the sheriff. He brought Johnny here."

Chuck looked down at the boy. Up close, his neck was nightmarish, swollen and bruised and rope-burned. "Why, Devon? Why'd he do it? I mean I know that…"

Devon reached into his pocket and handed Chuck a piece of ruled paper, torn raggedly from a ledger. On it was written: I did it. Chuck recognized the handwriting. It was Johnny's.

A/N2: Thoughts?