I don't own the character of Hank Lawson, only Emma Jane and all original characters that flow from her.

Emma Jane was surprised how easy Hank Lawson was to talk to. He didn't patronise her like everyone else in her life, instead he listened while she explained why she had run away from home, about how awful it was there and about how she didn't want to go back.

"How far did you think you were gonna git with that?" he gestured to the small bag she had in her possession.

Emma Jane looked down at it and smiled in spite of herself, "Not far I guess."

"What's in it?"

"Just some things," she replied, "you know, things I thought I might need."

He raised his eyebrows and took a cigarette from his pocket, "You didn't think you'd need clothes?"

Emma Jane didn't reply. It hadn't exactly crossed her mind during the few minutes she had had to plan her flight to pack anything else to wear. She looked down at the purple dress she was wearing, creased and with flecks of dirt on it. Her mother would have been furious had she seen it.

Hank followed her gaze as he lit his cigarette. She was pretty, he had to give her that. Her face was pleasant to look at, with those wide, trusting blue eyes and a small nose and mouth. That mane of red hair wasn't unwelcome either and he couldn't help wondering if she was a real redhead. She saw him looking at her, "Nice dress."

Emma Jane smiled, "Thank you." She felt slightly uncomfortable in the silence and the way he was looking at her made her shiver slightly. Bar her father and her elder brother Thomas, she had never been alone in male company. "So, tell me about you," she said in an effort to break the tension.

"Me?" he replied, grinning at her.

She nodded, "Do you live in Denver?"

Hank shook his head, "Nope, little town name of Colorado Springs bout a day outside Denver."

"Oh," Emma Jane thought back to her fantasy of lush green fields and wide open spaces, "Is it nice?"

"It's ok, if you like that kinda thing."

"How many people live there?"

"A few. I have my business there."

"You have a business?" Emma Jane brightened in surprise.

He laughed, "That surprise you?"

"No!" she didn't want to be offensive, "I didn't mean…" she broke off, "What kind of business are you in?"

He raised his eyebrows, "The hospitality business."

"Really?" Emma Jane was surprised. He hadn't struck her as the type to have a restaurant, "What were you doing in New York."

"Yer just too damn nosy for yer own good, ain'tcha?" Emma Jane turned away in embarrassment. Hank didn't say anything else. He watched her as she looked out of the window. He knew she was uncomfortable sitting so close to him, but he hadn't given her the opportunity to move seats, and her certainly wasn't about to. "What you plannin' on doing?"

Emma Jane turned back to face him, "What do you mean?"

"When you git to Denver. What are you goin' to do?"

Emma Jane paused. The truth was, she didn't know what she was going to do. She hadn't been able to think much further past being on the train, but as it rolled steadily onwards and they got closer and closer to the end of the line, she knew she would have to make some decisions. "Well, I can't go back to New York. My parents will kill me."

"Yer goin' to have to go back sometime."

"No I don't," she lifted her chin defiantly, "I can look after myself."

"Doin' what?" Hank persisted.

"I don't know!" She resisted the interrogation, "I'll think about it when I get there."

Back in New York, Frederick Brown was pacing around the parlour, his wife Amanda sat on the couch, wringing her hands with a handkerchief. Anyone who didn't know Mrs Brown would think she was upset and worried about her daughter's disappearance, but those closer to home, knew she was substituting the cloth for Emma Jane's neck.

Lydia was sat on the opposite settee, caught between annoyance at attention being diverted away from her and her upcoming nuptials and excitement at the trouble her little sister was going to be in when she arrived home. Having discovered a few hours ago that Emma Jane wasn't in her room, she had gone to her mother, who had immediately contacted her father at his office, who had in turn contacted the police. An officer had come to their home and was in the process of relating the story of Emma Jane at Chicago train station.

"Why didn't they stop her!" Mr Brown raged, turning on the young man who had come to help, "How could they let her go running off once they had apprehended her?"

"From what I heard, sir, they didn't have much choice. Your daughter is quick on her feet. The Chicago officer did give chase…"

"How did she get on the train here in the first place?" Mr Brown continued, "Without a ticket," he added for emphasis.

The officer tried to keep his temper, "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know."

"She's doing this on purpose," Mrs Brown said, her voice tightly controlled, "She's doing this to get at me."

"Amanda," Mr Brown warned.

"She's been nothing but trouble since the day she was born!"

Lydia smiled in satisfaction from her position opposite her mother. There was really going to be one hell of a showdown.

"Take that smile off of your face," her father said, catching sight of her pleasure, "Your sister could be in trouble."

Lydia rolled her eyes, "I don't care. Mother's right, she's always been nothing but trouble. I've never done anything as selfish as running away."

Mr Brown sighed heavily, "What happened after she got on the train at Chicago?"

"Well…" the officer cleared his throat, knowing this would be the most explosive detail, "the train was stopped and a guard was sent to fetch her. However…"

"However, what?"

"However, an unidentified man told the guard he was your daughter's husband."

Mr Brown's eyes grew wide. Mrs Brown stood up quickly. Lydia's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Husband!" the former blustered, "Husband!"

The officer nodded, "Yes sir."

"Do you mean to tell me," Mrs Brown said, "that my daughter has not only run away, but has gotten…married as well?"

"It would appear that way, ma'am, yes."

Lydia's face twisted into a scowl. This was just the sort of thing Emma Jane would do to get one over on her. "I hate her!"

Mr Brown ignored his eldest child, "What happens now?"

"Well sir, we've wired our colleagues in Denver and when your daughter disembarks, they will take her into custody and bring her back to New York."

Emma Jane didn't know how long she had been sleeping, but it was dark outside the window when she opened her eyes. She was lying out across a number of seats, Hank opposite her was smoking another cigarette. When he saw she was awake, he smiled at her.

"Welcome back."

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked, pulling herself up and rubbing her sore neck.

"Ages," Hank replied, "Thought I was gonna have to carry you off the train."

"Are we there? At Denver?"

"Yup."

Emma Jane sat up and smoothed down her dress. This was the moment where she was going to have to make a decision about her life. What was she going to do now? First, she had to thank her companion, "Thank you for being such pleasant company Mr Lawson," she smiled, "It's been an…interesting trip."

Hank laughed, "We ain't finished yet."

Emma Jane's smile slipped, "We're not?"

"You still owe me for one ticket."

"Oh, well, once I get myself sorted I can give you the money. Or I can wire it to you in Colorado Springs."

Hank was amused by her naivety. "Yer just gonna git off the train and…poof…yer gonna have a job? Be self-supportive?" He laughed at her look of uncertainty, "You ain't got nothin' darlin'. Mommy and Daddy ain't likely to send you nothing; now, are they?"

"Guess not," she replied truthfully, "So, what did you have in mind?"

Hank had a number of things in mind, things the little well-bred girl in front of him had probably never even imagined. Then there was another idea, and he quite liked it.

"Well, I'm guessin' that once we git into Denver, the police are gonna want to take you back to New York." He smiled at her look of desperation, "Course I could always help you out, seein' as you owe me anyhow."

Emma Jane knew he was trying to frighten her, and she wasn't about to succumb. She fixed her gaze on his and didn't waiver, "What could you do for me?"

"Well, they already think we're married. Why not make it so as we are?"

Emma Jane burst out laughing before she realised it. It was the most…ludicrous thing she had ever heard! Marry him? It was just unthinkable!

"Marry you?" she articulated, "Don't be so ridiculous!"

Hank spread his hands, "What's so ridiculous about it?"

"I…I barely know you! I mean you're hardly my…" she had been about to say equal, but managed to stop herself in time.

Hank knew what she had meant, "Don't sound like any of those fancy men in New York have come up to scratch neither."

"Yes but…" Emma Jane gasped still in disbelief, "You're really asking me to marry you?"

"It's an arrangement," he said, "helps you out of a bind."

"And what do you get out of it?" she demanded.

"Everything a husband gits."

Emma Jane's breath caught in her throat at the inference, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. Could it really be any worse than going home to New York? She would be lucky to survive the inevitable onslaught she would receive from her parents. Part of her, a small part, couldn't help but think that it would certainly be a slap in the face to her mother and Lydia. They would be shocked, horrified at the fact she was married, and Lydia would be spitting that she had married first. The naïve part of her felt a buzz of excitement at the prospect.

"All right, Mr Lawson," she said magnanimously, "I will marry you."

Hank smiled lazily at her. This was going to be sweet.

By the time the train stopped at Denver, Emma Jane had more or less convinced herself that she was embroiled in a grand scale love affair. This handsome man, she had to admit he was handsome, had asked her to marry him and go live with him in his pretty little town. Who was she to refuse such an offer?

"C'mon then," Hank held out his hand to her as the train pulled to a halt, "We need to git out of here before the law shows up."

She took his hand, tingling slightly as his long fingers folded around hers as they left the compartment. Being the last stop for the train, everyone was vying to get off, so once again, they had to wait. It reminded her of Chicago, only she hoped there was no police officer to take her away when she stepped onto the platform. Hank didn't say anything and when she tried to ask him how they were to evade capture, he merely shushed her.

As they left the train amid a throng of people, Emma Jane caught sight of two uniformed police officers standing a few feet away. Hank had clearly seen them too, and grabbing her hand tighter, he crouched slightly and led through the masses, weaving so as to put as much distance between them and the law as possible. She followed, her heart in her mouth, yet all the time fighting the urge to laugh out loud like a child playing a game. Hank pulling up shortly led to her crashing headlong into his back.

"Watch it," he growled at her, "keep your head down!"

Emma Jane did as she was told, allowing him to keep dragging her onwards, until she was so dizzy and disoriented she wasn't sure where she was. Eventually, she glanced up quickly to see that they had made significant progress away from the police officers and were, in fact, close to the exit of the station. A few more steps and they were outside, away from the smoky air and into early evening Denver which, to Emma Jane's surprise, seemed almost immediately more clean and fresh than New York ever had. Hank continued to drag her behind him however until they were well away from the main entrance. Then he half-threw her into the nearest alleyway and covered her body with his.

"What…?" Emma Jane tried to speak against his considerable weight, but he was crushing her so that she couldn't raise her objection. Pressed against his chest, she could smell a mixture of soap and smoke that wasn't entirely unpleasant, but she began to tremble as there seemed no let up in their contact. After what seemed like forever, the pressure was lessened and Hank moved away from her, allowing her the space to breathe again. "What were you doing?" she finally demanded.

"Makin' sure that the law didn't see you," he replied acerbically, "Either that or I just throw you to 'em. It's yer choice."

"No, thank you," she replied formally, "I appreciate it." She smoothed down her dress again, almost using it as a comfort gesture. "Now what?" she raised her face questioningly to his.

"Now we find a judge," he grinned at her. "Stage isn't til first light."

"Stage?" she reacted, "stage, as in stagecoach?"

"How else did you think we were gonna git there?"

"Well I…"she floundered, "the train, I mean…"

He shook his head in mock frustration, "Train don't go there. We gotta take the stage. After we find a judge."

"Will there be one available at this time of night?" Emma Jane asked.

"Course, if you know where to go."

"And you do, I suppose?" She raised her eyebrows, "Married a lot of women, have you?"

"Only the ones I like."

She had no response to this, instead she let the feeling of someone finally liking her wash over her and as Hank led her through the streets, she felt as though she was walking on air. She was going to get married! It was all so exciting. When they eventually arrived at a small, ordinary looking building, Hank told her to wait outside while he disappeared inside. She did as ordered, until a few moments later, the door opened and Hank pulled her inside.

The building was cold, and Emma Jane shivered through her thin dress. The corridors had marble floors and their footsteps echoed as they travelled into the belly of the building. When they eventually came to their destination, Emma Jane saw it was a small room with a table at one end and rows of seats. As Hank led her towards the table, she saw an older man standing behind it, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"What is this place?" she asked, speaking in hushed tones.

"It's where we're gettin' married, that's what," Hank replied. He nodded at the man, "This is her."

The man looked Emma Jane over, his eyes flicking back and forth between her and Hank. "How old is she?" he asked.

"Old enough," came the reply, which seemed to satisfy the man.

"Hank, aren't we getting married in a church?" Emma Jane asked.

Hank laughed, "I ain't one for religion."

The next few minutes passed by in a blur. The man, whom she presumed was the judge or at least someone capable of performing a wedding ceremony, said a few words, then asked her if she would take Hank to be her husband. She answered in the affirmative, then Hank answered his version of the same question. The judge then told them to swap rings, at which point Hank declared they didn't have any. Finally, he pronounced them husband and wife and that Hank could kiss his new bride.

Emma Jane swallowed hard as he leaned in towards her and pressed his mouth against hers. When he drew back and turned to talk to the judge, she felt a cold hand grip her insides. She had just married a man she barely knew. She was his, legally. Suddenly, the childlike enthusiasm and excitement, the feeling of getting one over on her parents and Lydia vanished and she was smacked in the face by the cold hand of reality.

She allowed Hank to propel her out of the building and back onto the city streets, where she shivered involuntarily in the night air. Upon seeing this, Hank shucked off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. "When we git home, you can get some material from Loren's store an' make yerself a few dresses." Emma Jane looked at him, wide-eyed, "But right now, we gotta find ourselves some place to sleep."

A few hours later, having found a cheap hotel and had a basic meal of some form of meat, the composition of which she didn't like to query, Emma Jane found herself standing in a hotel bedroom, surveying the room in front of her. It was basic personified, and very far removed from her room back in New York. The floors were wooden, and all the room contained was a bed, a small table and two chairs, a chamber pot and a basin for washing in. It was cold too and she found herself longing for home, even with the row she would be sure to receive.

Hank came up behind her and put his mouth close to her ear, "Perfect, don'tcha think?"

His words on the train in answer to her question as to what he would get out of the marriage came flooding back to her. Everything a husband gets. She knew what that meant now and also knew she could not refuse. But she didn't know what to do, so she stood there dumbly, as if waiting for him to direct her.

Hank was already pulling on his boots and when he saw her frozen to the spot, he grinned at her, "Ain'tcha gonna git undressed? You can't sleep in that thing."

"I…I don't have anything else to put on," she replied, envisioning her warm flannel nightgown lying patiently on her pillow at home.

He laughed, "You ain't gonna need anything else to put on." He continued removing his clothes while she stood watching him. He pulled off his shirt to reveal a lean, tanned chest and shoulders and the rest of his clothes followed, until he was sitting on the bed naked, grinning at her. "Come here."

Emma Jane didn't move. Her feet were rooted to the spot with fear. This was an area of life she had never had to enter before. Her mother had never spoken of such things to her and as for Lydia… "I…"

"You ain't gonna turn me down now, are you?" he questioned her, "Not on our weddin' night, not when I've taken such good care of you?"

She felt pressured, knowing that if it hadn't been for him, she would have been sent straight back home, and yet the intensity of the situation made her feel like vomiting. She walked slowly over to him, stopping a few paces away and trying to keep her eyes on his face so that she wouldn't have to look at…anything else. Just when she was comfortable with the distance however, Hank grabbed her arm and pulled her in front of him. She let out a slight cry of fear and surprise and as he put his hands on her hips, she was shaking. Her dress buttoned up the front and he began undoing it, with the ease of a man who had unbuttoned many womens' dresses. When it was loosened, he pulled it down over her shoulders and hips so that it landed in a pile at her feet, leaving her standing merely in her slip. She stepped out of the dress and Hank kicked it across the floor, causing her to wince at what her mother would have said if she had seen it. Hank's hands were back on her waist again, touching her gently through the fabric. When he looked up at her, his eyes were liquid with desire and before she knew where she was, he hand pulled her down on top of him and flipped her over, so that she was pinned underneath his body, her legs wedged apart.

For a moment, he simply lay looking down at her, enjoying her discomfort. Then he bent his head and kissed her. It was not the simple kiss of the wedding ceremony this time however. Instead, he forced her to open her mouth and slid his tongue inside. Emma Jane tried to recoil in horror, but he had her so that she could barely move. She was forced to acquiesce and he kissed her long and deep until she felt she would have no air left. When he lifted his mouth from hers, he moved it to her neck, trailing kisses down over her throat while his hands started to pull her slip up so that it was bunched around her waist. He slid her silk panties down and entered her, causing her to cry out in pain.

In her life, she had never imagined what wifely duties must be like, but any remote thought couldn't have been further from what was happening to her now. Hank moved inside her, slow at first and then progressing to hard, brutal thrusts, which caused her to screw her eyes up and bite her lip in an effort to prevent herself from screaming. Hot tears pricked her eyelids while Hank breathed heavily into the crease of her neck. Eventually, she felt a slowing in his pace, as his body began to shudder over her own, then he collapsed on top of her, spent.

He lay on top of her for a long moment, getting his breath back. When he finally raised his head and looked at her, he saw the pain on her face and gently pushed her hair back from her eyes, "Don't worry," he said, rolling off of her and onto his back, "You'll git used to it."

Emma Jane drew her legs up to her chest, pulling her slip back down so as to cover her modesty. She scrabbled beneath herself for the scratchy sheets and pulled them over her, wanting to hide herself from him. As she lay facing away from him, the tears began to trickle down her cheeks and she could feel her insides heaving, wanting to break out into sobs. Something made her hold them in, however, and as she tried to get sleep, listening to Hank's rhythmic breathing beside her, she couldn't help but ask herself what the hell she had done.

The following morning, Hank woke her before it was even light. As she tried to get out of bed, she felt a pain between her legs and winced as she stood up.

"Happens when it's yer first time," he offered as he splashed himself with water from the basin, "It'll go away in a minute. Here," he tossed her dress to her, "Better hurry up if we want to make the stage."

Emma Jane slowly pulled on her dress, fastening the buttons with shaking fingers. She went forward to the basin and splashed herself with the water, wishing that she could get into a hot bath run for her by the maid and clean away the dirt she felt was clinging to her, in more ways than one.

The stagecoach to Colorado Springs was setting off from the city square, and after a hurried breakfast, of which she could eat little, they stepped outside in the morning air and she followed Hank as he led her through the streets. As she walked, she glanced at people coming in the opposite direction, wondering if they knew what had happened to her the previous night. Before they reached the square, however, Hank darted down a side street and told her to wait for him. For a moment, she considered running away, back to the train station. Why was she staying with this man? 'Because you're legally married to him,' her inner voice replied in a smug voice. He returned a few minutes later and told her to hold out her hand.

"Why?" she asked, suspiciously.

"Just do it," he ordered her. When she did, he placed a ring in it, "There you go. Can't say I never bought you a ring." Emma Jane looked at it sitting in the palm of her hand. "Don't just look at it," he said, "put it on." She did as she was told and he held it up to the light, "Don't that look pretty?" He didn't wait for an answer, "C'mon, we gotta go." He dragged her towards the square where the stagecoach was waiting to be boarded.

There were two other travellers, a man and a woman, who gave her a mere cursory glance before climbing inside. Emma Jane stood and waited her turn, but certainly didn't expect Hank to lift her by the waist and virtually throw her inside. He climbed in after her and shut the door, sitting as close to her as the stage would allow.

Emma Jane sat looking out of the window as the final preparations were made. Would this be the last time she would see any form of civilisation, she wondered? She had envisioned Colorado Springs in her minds eye, but now wondered if it would be as rosy a place as the picture she had painted for herself.

"Emma Jane? Emma Jane!" the sound of a woman calling her name caused her to break from her dream and to her amazement, she saw Isabella hurrying towards the stagecoach. "My goodness, it's you!" She exclaimed brightly, "How did you get here?"

"It's…it's a long story," she replied truthfully, "I'm going to Colorado Springs."

"I see," Isabella glanced into the stage, "By yourself?"

"No, with my…" she paused, "with my friend." She didn't say anything more.

"Oh. Well, if you're ever back in Denver, do look me up," Isabella replied, "Take care." With that, she was hurrying back across the square, leaving Emma Jane no time to ask where she should look her up.

At that moment, the stage lurched forwards and started to pull out of the square. She watched as the buildings went by and they turned onto the road that would take them into the heart of Colorado. The atmosphere in the stage was tense and Emma Jane felt incredibly uncomfortable, no more so than when Hank put his hand on her leg.

A short way into the journey, they arrived at a small town in which the other travellers departed, leaving them as they only two in the stage. Despite there now being more room, Hank made no attempt to move further away from her and kept his hand on her leg.

"How far is it?" she asked.

"Bout half a day longer," he replied, "Don't worry, we'll be home before bed time." He grinned at her and she looked away, focusing instead on the landscape. The green began to give way to brush and dust, the latter which stung her eyes if she leaned too far out of the window. Eventually, she started to see signs of habitation, small houses on the outskirts of what she assumed would be the town.

As the stage rolled in to Colorado Springs, Emma Jane found herself growing even more depressed. There was barely anything there save for a few buildings. There wasn't even a proper road, just dirt. She thought of New York's paved streets and felt a stab of longing go through her heart. In what she assumed was the centre of the town, although it was hardly obvious, the stage drove in a semi-circle and stopped outside of a building entitled 'Bray's Mercantile.'

Hank opened the door of the stage and jumped out before leaning back in to offer her his hand. Not trusting herself to stay on her own two feet unaided, she took it and allowed him to help her out. As she landed on the dry dust, she looked down at her boots which barely resembled the shiny black ones she had put on a few days ago.

"Loren!" He gestured to an older man, "Come meet Emma Jane."

The man, Loren, came down the steps from his shop and came towards them. He held out his hand, "Please to meet you Miss…?"

"Brown," Emma Jane replied at the same time as Hank said, "Lawson."

Loren looked confused, "Well, which is it?"

"Lawson," Hank replied firmly.

"Coincidence," Loren replied, "She a new girl?"

"She's my wife," Hank replied in a self-satisfied tone.

Loren's expression became that of profound shock, "Your wife?"

"Yup, all the way from New York."

"I thought you went to get girls?"

"Well, I got me this one instead."

"You got married!" Loren was clearly still in shock.

"Who got married?" another younger man said, joining them, "welcome back Hank."

"Thanks Jake," Hank replied, shaking his hand, "I did. This is my wife, Emma Jane."

Emma Jane tried to smile, but it must have looked more like a grimace, because Jake smirked at her, "You're his wife?"

She nodded, "Yes. And you are?"

"Jake Slicker at your service ma'am," he bowed to her, causing everyone around to start laughing.

"Leave her alone," Hank said in mock protest, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her to him, "I gotta get her settled in." He pulled her with him around the side of the stage and towards another building. Emma Jane looked up as they approached and saw the word 'Saloon' painted over the door.

She pulled up sharply, "That's a…"

"Saloon," Hank supplied for her, "Told you I was in the hospitality business."

"But, I can't…" she was shocked into speechlessness. A saloon? A drinking den? She couldn't go in there, no respectable woman could.

"You can, and you will," Hank replied, pulling her towards the door where two women wearing dresses cut down to the top of their breasts were leaning against the wall. He grinned at them and slapped them both on the rear, "You don't git paid to stand around out here. Git some business going."

"Business?" Emma Jane gasped, "Are they…?" She didn't need an answer, she already knew, "Hank…"

He turned to face her, his expression hard, "This is where I live, this is my business and you're my wife. Now I ain't gonna make you whore, but this is where you belong now, like it or not. I didn't force you to marry me." He broke into a smile again, "Welcome home."

TBC