Wow, I am touched and.. perplexed at how my inbox blew up with people fearing this is it for my story. NOPE.

But I had to take a break. A break that took.. what.. six months? Am I done with this story? You bet your ass I'm not! I am having waaay too much fun with Butch!

Thank you to all those anonymous reviewers who I can't reply to in person. You know who you are. I very much appreciate the time and effort you put in commenting on my work. I read every review, they make my day, and they make me want to continue because I'm so excited to show you guys where this is going! Trust me, this story will have an ending. But not any time soon!

Enjoy, peeps!

Chapter 39

Four half frozen and dust covered men returned to the small camp. Their faces forlorn for they had been unable to locate the missing child. When they halted their exhausted horses, and caught a glimpse of the tired child resting peacefully in Betty's arms while she chatted with her rescuer, their expression turned from shock to joy.

It was the father, hardly a day older than Eleanor herself, who was the first to take the child into his arms, holding on to her for dear life while he cried tears of joy. "Rosie, Rosie.. where have you been? Where were you?" he murmured into the child's dirtied blonde hair. "Have you been to your momma yet? Has she seen you?" It was Betty who answered for the child.

"I figured I'd let Rachel sleep for a spell, seeing how she is." She explained, nodding to herself while she gently patted the father's shoulder. "Plenty a time later."

"When did she come back?"

The question seemed to brighten Betty's day, and with a dramatic gesture of her arm she presented the shabby looking young woman sitting around the campfire, trying to make herself invisible, or drown herself in her cup of coffee right there on the spot. "May I introduce our hero of the day? Or heroine, more like." She giggled for a moment. "Jeremiah, this is Eleanor Hartley." She gently guided the young man over to the girl. "Miss Hartley, this is Jeremiah Levi. Rosie's father. And my husband's own dear brother."

Eleanor looked up to meet the man's tired, green eyes and smiled politely. "How do you do?" she was met with silence, and the man's expression slowly turned to confusion. She swallowed thickly, feeling awkward, and tried to save herself. "She's unharmed. She was looking for her kitten. I don't think she's been out there for very long."

"I know you." Jeremiah spoke bluntly. That was her cue to get up, tucking her hair behind her ears nervously as she turned from him. "I've seen your face on wanted posters." He continued, handing Rosie over to Betty as he followed her across camp while she made her way over to her horse.

"Jeremiah!" Betty protested in shock, but she didn't chase after him.

"There's 800 dollars on your name for murdering a railroad agent." The man pushed on. And as her strides turned wider and faster, so did his. "Wait! Stop!" she turned to him sharply when she reached her horse, her back pressed against her saddle as he closed the space between them in a threatening, slightly out of breath move. "You were taken by a gang. The Cavendish gang." He spoke exasperated. She just stared him down with every drop of venom she possessed in her being, breathing heavily from fear. "How did you get away from them? From him? He leaves no survivors."

She turned away from him, grabbing the knob of her saddle, ready to pull herself up and get out of here, but he wound his hand around her horse's reins and stopped her.

"Let go of my horse." She said.

"Where are they?" Jeremiah pressed on.

"What does it matter?"

"It matters!" he called out, causing her horse to whinny restlessly at his voice. "Are they close? Where did you broke loose of them? Can they find us?"

She closed her eyes at his words. The man had a family to protect. His concern made sense. "You have nothing to fear." She told him. "They're not.. anywhere close." She lied. Again she tried to mount her horse, but this time he pulled her down by her belt and turned her around roughly to be able to look into her eyes.

"I don't believe you." He said after a while. "You don't look like you've left them behind a while ago. You look like you just got out. And Rosie was the first thing you encountered on your own." She said nothing, her lip trembling. "We cannot go anywhere. We're sitting ducks." Jeremiah continued, grower softer. "We are bound to this place until my wife delivers her child or.. " His voice trembled, about to break. "You understand? If they are after you.. if it's you they want.. perhaps we should keep you here. In case they show up. As leverage."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious?" she blurted out. "You'd hand me over to a gang of outlaws? I saved your daughter's life."

He held up his hands, nodding. "I know.. I know. And I.. I'm very sorry it has to be this way. But.. if I have to choose between you or my family. The decision is.. easier than I'd like it to be."

She shook her head in desperation. "You don't understand half of his. I swear.. if you just let me go.. they won't find you. You will never see me again.. or ever see that gang. I promise you." He frowned at her words. "But if you hold me here.. take me captive. I swear.. they will murder every single person in this camp." She searched for his eyes, but they seemed glazed over, like he had momentarily zoned out to consider her promises. "Please, let me go." She pleaded.

Noticing the change in atmosphere, Betty quickly joined them with a worried expression on her dirtied face.

"Jeremiah." She chided gently for the second time, clearly made uneasy by the young man's strange behaviour. "You're not making our guest uncomfortable, are you?" she giggled nervously. "Are you?" she added more serious.

"Please." Eleanor begged softly. "For your family's sake, let me go."

There was a fleeting second in which she thought she'd come through to the determined and exhausted father, but then his expression hardened once more and he shook his head, reaching for the rope hanging from his belt. "I'm sorry." He told her, grabbing a fistful of her sleeve in such a manner, she wouldn't have been able to pull away if she wanted to. "Please forgive me." He pulled her along, ignoring her pleads, and Betty's protests, both numbed by the sound of Rosie's crying. Eleanor's back was set against a pole, meant for hitching horses, and her wrists tied together behind her back. Her pleading and begging seemed to be meant for deaf ears. "You'll be staying here." Jeremiah spoke gravely, unable to look at the heavily breathing young woman he just restrained from going her way. "In case they want you back. In case that cannibal comes looking."

Exasperated from anger and frustration, tears rolling down her cheeks, Eleanor blurted out her own doom. "He's not a cannibal! He's just a man with a gun!" she flung back at the young father. "It's all nonsense! Old wives tales, you fool! You dumb fool! Let me go!"

Jeremiah nodded, taking a step back to look at his shameful work. "You know him better than I do." He spoke gently. "But I know what he is. Everyone does." With those last words he left her, and strolled back to the campfire to explain his actions to the other men.

Terrified, she scanned the grass covered hill tops, hoping Butch would leave her to deal with this mess herself. But she knew he would get impatient soon, and start looking for her. After everything, she had re-evaluated the worth of his protection, but she knew he wouldn't pass on an opportunity to blow a hole in a man's chest for tying her to a stockyard pole. She rubbed her wrists together, but the rope Jeremiah had used was a true cowhandler's lasso, and the material was too sturdy for her to break through. Her writhing about only caused the tender skin on her wrists to burn faintly. She sniffed, hanging her head and resting in her fate as the sun slowly made her way to the centre of the sky.

It felt like hours since Jeremiah had tied her up, and the light was fading. She shivered when a cold breeze announced the coming of the cool, winter evening. Her neck stiff, she looked up to the hilltop again, almost wishing Butch would come find her. He'd cut her loose, of course. But her freedom would come at a terrible price. Her thoughts were interrupted when a young man came into view, holding a plate with hot food. She hadn't met this member of the family yet, and her confused expression at his presence seemed to remind him of his manners.

"I'm David. David Bishop." The young man said awkwardly, holding out the plate, then realizing she had been tied down, pulled it away again. "I'm sorry.. I.. I'm sorry about this." He nodded at her position. "All of this." She said nothing, just gazed at him wearily, his apologies meant little to her at the moment. "I've never done this." He continued. "I don't even think Jeremiah did any of this before. Taking prisoners and such. But he.. changed a lot."

"Save me your explanations." She bit at him. "Or are you here to cut me loose so I can eat that?"

He looked down at the plate and shook his head. "They told me to feed you. Like an infant.. Betty thought it was the least embarrassing to you if I did it. We're.. closest in age. I think. How old are you?" he scooped up a bit of the stew on his spoon and held it in front of her mouth. She stared at him like she wished Butch would show up behind him and ram that whole plate down his throat. "Never mind. Forget I asked. That was rude." She said nothing, her brow furrowing more and more. "Please eat." He pleaded gently. "Nobody wants to treat you badly. Especially not I." His words sounded sincere, and there was nothing threatening, intimidating or unjust about his mannerisms. He was young. About her age. Not unpleasant to look at. And clearly a good person, in the wrong situation. "Please, miss.."

Her sympathy for this young, lost soul winning, she opened her mouth to allow him to slip the spoon inside and chewed on the bland tasting rabbit stew with obvious distaste. Nevertheless, her stomach seemed to agree with the sustenance, and she realized she couldn't remember the last time she had something to eat. He seemed delighted at her cooperation, and smiled at her gratefully, looking even younger in the dying light. He had kind, brown eyes that reminded her of a boy she had once fancied. Years ago. When the people of Colby hadn't decided yet to shun her mother and herself.

Between chewing, she tried to make conversation. "So where you going? Build a cabin in the west with your new found bride?" she almost sneered, but he chuckled at her words shyly.

"Oh no. I'm here because my brother and sister in law are going. My parents thought it was a good idea for me to come along. Find a wife in the west, you know." He explained. "I'm not married.. Yet." He seemed less than thrilled by the prospect of marriage. "I only agreed to come with because Isaac promised to show me to Ocean. I've never seen it." she stopped chewing for a moment, remembering Butch's offer. "I'd like to see a dolphin before I die. Or a whale." He continued cheerfully, like they were simply getting to know eachother on a town square. "How about you? What would you like to see before you die?"

She looked up to meet his curious gaze, his smile ever present. "I.. " she didn't know what to tell this young man, trying hard to make her feel at ease with his presence. "The Ocean sounds fine." She looked away again, unable to stare at his friendly face for much longer. "San Francisco" she lied. "I'll see it before I die."

"Really?" David asked, not convinced. "You sure don't look like a big city kind of woman." Again, his words didn't sound condescending, just an observation, and he was right. She wouldn't know what to do with herself in a place like San Francisco. "More like.. a woman that just wants to find herself first, before finding anything else."

She had to meet his eyes again, and his smile returned when she did. She frowned. "Don't do this." She said. He seemed confused.

"Don't do what?"

She bit her bottom lip. "Don't be too nice to me." His smile returned full force, disarming her with his eagerness to get to know her.

"It's so easy." He told her. Her plate was empty, and he placed the spoon on top of it carefully. "I think I decided to like you.. miss Hartley." He gave her a polite nod before strolling back into the camp, whistling a happy tune. She followed his chipper trot until she couldn't turn her head any further, confused beyond measure by this kind, young man.

When night fell, she started to get increasingly worried about where Butch and his gang went off to. Did he finally decide to leave her behind? Was he fed up with her last statement, prying into his personal feelings never did her any good, and she was getting less and less convinced he had feelings at all. She shivered against the cold, her breath visible in the cool, night air. Her hands tied behind her back felt stiff and frozen, and her legs numb from supporting her for hours on end. She raised her gaze up to the hilltop, almost hoping to find Butch's silhouette looking out for her, but there was nothing but the gentle swaying of the tall grass.

She listened to the families going about their evening rituals. Bringing the children to bed, and making preparations for tomorrow's breakfast and lunch. The dogs had gone quiet. And soon the children settled in the back of the illuminated, covered wagons. When all went dark, and the final lantern was blown out, nature began to stir around her.

At first she thought it was a deer, creeping in the grass behind her, but soon Butch's face into her view. It was the newborn moon illuminating his haggard face, the light in dark contrasts making him look beyond his years. But it was his dark expression that hit her first. He said nothing as he looked her over, and she refrained from speaking for she didn't want anyone to wake up to find Butch Cavendish in their camp. But as he just continued to study her with his eerie blue eyes, his silence unnerving, she decided to break the silence.

"I thought you left." She whispered, her teeth chattering from cold. "I begged them to let me go." She started to cry from mere exhaustion, and the fact she had disappointed him once again. "But your reputation preceded you. Everyone is looking for me." She hiccupped. He moved around her, his steps unheard, circling her like a predator its prey. "I'm so sorry." She sniffled, and listened how he reached for his knife, presumably to cut her loose. "These are good people." She started, her panic growing. Her own problems had been solved, but now the lives of the settlers were in danger. He came up in front of her again, holding up his knife as he tapped the blade against the side of his nose, shaking his head slowly.

"And they got ye beggin' fer their lives, am ah right?" he whispered, tilting his head as he waited for her answer.

She swallowed thickly, feeling more tears well up. "Please don't kill them." She begged. "I'll do anything you want."

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, and bared his teeth in a sly grin. "Anythin?"

"Almost anything." She corrected herself. "I won't kill for you. Ever."

He took a swaying step in her direction, bringing his mouth close to her ear. His hot breath in her cold neck sending shivers down her spine. "Ask me nicely." He whispered.

She closed her eyes, feeling anger build up as he insisted on playing his games in a moment such as this. "Please don't kill them. Please, mister Cavendish." She forced herself to say in the kindest tone she could muster despite the cold.

"What's in it fer me?" he whispered in her ear again.

"I'll leave." She said. "I'll leave the gang. Leave you be. You won't have me to worry over anymore. If you ever did." His rough chuckle told her it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but was amused by this outcome nonetheless. His face came into view again, a wicked grin on his mangled face.

"Wouldn't that be the day, huh?" he mumbled.

She frowned, getting fed up with his time consuming nonsense. "Now cut me loose!" she growled.

"Ssh." He silenced her, throwing a side glance to the covered wagons. "What did ye find out about these people? Anythin ah should know?" she couldn't believe he just let her remain tied up as he did.

"No. No.. nothing. They're not rich. Not wealthy. Just dirt poor settlers making their way west." She told him nervously. But he gazed at her as though he knew she was only telling half the truth. "They're stuck here for some reason." She continued. "Something about a woman with a baby that can't be delivered. Let's just go.. far away from here. Please. I'll go to San Francisco with you."

He chuckled, gazing at her as he scratch the back of his head with his knife. "Ah really? Whatever happened te the whole.. goin' home story, hm? Ye let that go the moment ye met people that want to be anywhere but home? Hm?" she said nothing in return, and he dropped his gaze to the tips of his boots, digging into the dust like no other situation could have bored him more. "A baby that can't be delivered." He mumbled. "Now that aint a thing ye find in the desert every day."

She shook her head pleadingly. "Please leave them be. Are you going to shoot a pregnant woman now? Is that it? And you're going to make me wa-" With a sharp movement, he had closed the space between them again, breathing angrily in her ear as though to warn her about finishing that sentence.

"Ye always got the best ideas." He hissed menacingly, and she felt the ground sink away from under her feet as her legs buckled in shock to his words. He was going to kill them all. "But ye don't have te watch." His voice softened a little as he pulled back to look at her tearstained face, her forlorn expression. Their close proximity used to make her nervous, but she knew he used it to intimidate her. But it wasn't her own life she was begging for right now. She let her head hang, following the line of tear drops dripping down her cheeks onto the ground in front of her feet. The tip of Butch's blade forced her chin up again, and she stared into his eyes with an empty expression. He looked for something in her gaze, like he did more often, but whatever he was searching for, he didn't seem to find it. "Ye see." He started. "The problem with watchin' people get killed is it leaves a mark on yer soul."

She pulled away from his knife, shooting daggers with her eyes. "What would you know about souls?" she bit at him.

"Ah know ah like yers te way it is." He whispered darkly, reaching around her with both arms, trapping her against his chest despite her struggling. "And ah aint about te do anythin' te temper with it." with a swift movement, he cut her bindings, and made a point of removing every piece of rope, lingering around her slim frame like a snake had wrapped itself around it, until he finally stepped back.

She rubbed her sore wrists, examining the angry burns the rope had left on her skin. He seemed to notice them too, and his expression darkened as his eyes travelled toward the covered wagons again.

"I'll ask Barret if he's got something for this." She said softly, trying to pull his attention away from the settlers. "They didn't mean to hurt me. They kept me in case you'd come to collect me. As leverage." He didn't seem interested in her story as he gazed at her injuries with his unreadable eyes.

"Leverage." He repeated, reaching out to take her hand to examine her wounds himself. He wasn't rough. Not right now. Not here. Not with her like this. "They think they can bargain with me? By tying ye to a hitching post like a dog?" she shook her head to calm his rising anger.

"No." she said. "I lied to them. Said I escaped from you, and that you wouldn't try to find me. That you let me go."

He dropped her hand instantly, looking up at her sharply, and took a step back. "Go." He said, making a gesture toward the vast open prairie. She frowned, not knowing what he wanted from her. But he didn't explain his actions and turned to walk away. And after a few seconds, she rushed after him, following him over the hilltop, where the rest of his gang was waiting.

R&R