The morning sunlight streamed in through Jim's window, and he was glad to see something other than rain. West got up, bathed, shaved and went down the stairs, in search of some breakfast. Noreen Macrae, the barkeep, and an old guy sweeping up the floor, were in the bar area. Macrae turned to see West, and she greeted him with a cheery smile.

Why Mr. West, how are you this morning?

Jim was so concentrated on the beautiful woman, that he missed seeing the old man abruptly stop sweeping, exiting quickly into the kitchen.

I'm fine, Miss Macrae, thank you. I was just wondering where I might be able to buy some breakfast.

We can accommodate you, Mr. West. She turned in the direction that the janitor was, Mr. Morgan? Can you........I wonder where he got off to, I was going to ask him to make his special eggs for you. You haven't lived until you've had them.

The barkeep piped up, I'm sure he's in the back, I'll see to it, Miss Macrae.

Thank you, Bill. Please come sit over here, Mr. West.

Jim followed her to a table and sat down while she poured two cups of coffee. Noreen sat across from West, her radiant smile seeming almost over the top to him.

You seem very...happy today, Miss Macrae. Is it a special occasion? Your birthday perhaps?

She blushed slightly, No, no, Mr. West, nothing at all like that.

Then Jim recognized the look: she was in love. He smiled at her, his fiery eyes twinkling with amusement. It had happened to him many times. He knew he'd have to let her down easily, but for the moment, he would enjoy the attention.

A special gentleman, I'll guess.

Is it that obvious?

West sipped his coffee, You're beaming, Miss Macrae. Any man who misses it has never seen a lady in love. Who's the lucky fellow?

She leaned in conspiratorially, Don't tell on me, but it's my handyman!

Jim frowned slightly, The old guy who was in here bef-- Jim swallowed, then tried to smile, I uh, didn't mean it quite that way.

I know.....he seems a little old for me, but I don't think he's as old as he looks. She looked toward the kitchen, I wonder what's keeping him. I'll go find out.

West watched her go, and a few moments later he heard a muffled argument in the kitchen. After another five minutes or so, Noreen Macrae walked back out, followed by Bill and the haggard handyman. There was something unsettling about the old man. For one thing, he wouldn't make eye contact with Jim, which set West on edge. The man simply put the plate in front of West, turned around and headed back to the kitchen. The fellow was wearing miner's clothes, had a full grey beard and was far too thin for his frame. For a moment Jim wondered what his story was, but the smell of the eggs pulled his attention.

You're going to love those, no one can make them like Mr. Morgan.

Jim put a forkful of eggs into his mouth, and was so startled he almost spit them out.

Mr. West, is something wrong?

Jim swallowed hard, Who did you say made these?

Mr. Morgan.

I don't know how to tell you this, but the man can't cook.

Noreen frowned, pulled a piece of egg off the plate and tried it. It was awful. She didn't understand it; he'd made his eggs for her and they were wonderful.

You're right, they're awful. Something must have happened, because his eggs really are the best.

Well, maybe I caught him on a bad day.

Jim stood up, picked up Noreen's hand and kissed the back of it.

Thanks for everything, Miss Macrae.

Good luck, Mr. West.



Noreen watched the handsome man walk out of the saloon. She picked up the plate and made a beeline for the kitchen. She slammed the plate down in front of Artie.

What in the hell is this?

He couldn't look her in the eye, I'm sure I don't know what you mean...

The hell you don't. What did you do? Dump an entire container of salt in there?

I....I don't know what you're talking about.

What's gotten into you? You're acting so strangely. It's as if you know Mr. West and you're trying to avoid him.

Artie could feel the anger bubbling up inside of him. Who did this woman think she was to him? While he had some feeling for her, she certainly wasn't Lily. His voice was full of venom when he responded.

Never saw him before in my life, and even if I did, I don't see what business it is of yours.

As soon as the comment left his lips, he regretted it, but it was too late. The hurt in her eyes cut him like a sharp knife. While it was honest, it was far too cruel to one who had shown him nothing but kindness.

He took a step toward her, Noreen, I'm so--

The hand she held up to him, stopped him in mid-sentence. He looked down, his shame hanging heavy on him. His voice was a grave whisper.

I didn't mean it. Not like that.

Yes, Mr. Morgan, you did. I'm afraid that once again, I overstepped my place with you. It won't happen again, I assure you, but in the future, Mr. Morgan, I will thank you not to lead me on as you did last night.

Miss Noreen.....wait...

But she was gone, slamming the door in his face. Artie felt like the heel that he had been to her. He plopped in a chair, and a moment later the back door opened. He looked up to see Jim enter. Artie averted his eyes.

West called to him from the door, Hey old-timer, you know who owns the stable and how much I might owe for bedding my horse last night?

Artie shook his head, and said not a word. Jim stared at the man for a moment; there was something oddly strange about him, but West couldn't peg it.

Jim shrugged, Thanks anyway, old-timer.

Artie waved his hand in Jim's general direction, and West closed the door. Gordon let out a huge sigh of air. A part of him wanted to go to Jim and pull him into a hug; but the part that won out was the one that wanted to remain anonymous and free. Artie put a hand on his chest, as if he could somehow stop the hurt that burned all the way through him. Tears rushed into his eyes and trickled hot down his face. He had never felt so lost in his life.

***********
West left more than enough money for the stableman, mounted his horse, and began to ride south, through the canyon. At least the weather was a lot nicer than it had been. He kicked the horse to move along, his worry about Artie's fate once again pushing itself into the front of his mind. Jim felt strange: it was as if there was something that he had missed in Paulden, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

His horse negotiated the alternating rock and mud well, but Jim knew that he needed to slow down. He could feel the animal slipping slightly on the rain soaked terrain. West pulled back on the reins slightly, and the horse responded immediately. The path was narrowing as he neared the top of the trail, and Jim felt it would be easier on the horse at a slower pace. He looked around him and his stomach tied up in a knot; what if Artie had come through during the rain? It would be so easy to slip. One moment of a lapse in concentration and--

--His horse neighed as he lost his footing at the canyon's edge. The mud was too wet and the earth gave way. Jim tried to pull the horse backward, but it was a losing battle; there was too much weight in motion toward the edge. In order to save himself by rebalancing, West's horse threw his rider. Jim plummeted over the front of his horse, hitting the rocks of the canyon as he fell downward.

***********