I don't own any unoriginal characters.

I don't think that my scene breaks are being recognised by the program, so it all seems to run together. Hope you can all see where there should be spaces!

Three months later

It really was the most unpleasant of journeys. The train had been fine, a smooth ride from New York to Denver, but the stagecoach was terribly uncomfortable. It lurched from side to side as the wheels bounced across the rough terrain and Mrs Brown kept having to put her hand up to her head to make sure her hat was still in place. It really was frightful that they were having to make this journey at all, and she had told her husband this in no uncertain terms.

"It's ridiculous Frederick!" she had said when he had suggested it, "Us? Go all the way to whatever shoddy backwater she's living in? That's what the police are for!"

"My dear," Mr Brown had replied, "It will be more successful if we go. We can persuade Emma Jane to come home with us, something she's far more likely to do if we're there than if we sent some policeman." Frankly, he'd had enough of the seeming incompetence of the police force, giving that they hadn't even been able to apprehend his daughter when she alighted from the train. What's more, he had been reliably informed that she hadn't been married until she had arrived in Denver, however now she most certainly was.

"I can't believe she married some trash that she met on the train," Mrs Brown huffed again, "I mean, does she not think of how this reflects on us? To have a daughter run off and marry the first man she meets? Not even an enlopement, but a rash decision based on whoever would pay for her ticket!" She rearranged herself angrily, "The look Meredith Hillington gave me at the opera last week…" Amanda Brown had never been out of favour in New York and she wasn't liking it one bit.

Mr Brown looked over at his wife, "There's no point upsetting yourself my dear. Once we speak with Emma Jane, she'll come to understand the error of her ways. She was in a temper when she left and was probably still in said temper when she agreed to marry this…Lawson character. I'll place any money you like that she is regretting her decision wholeheartedly and when we arrive in town, she'll be so delighted to see us that she will beg us to take her home again."

Three months earlier, her father would have been right, but as the long summer days began to fade and the distinct feel of autumn entered the air, Emma Jane had no intention of going anywhere. She had grown to love Colorado Springs in a way she would never have imagined when she stepped off the stage that day. Since Carolyn had left town, the atmosphere in the saloon had improved dramatically. The girls who had been friendly became even more so, and the ones who had treated her badly seemed to change now that their oppressor had gone. She would never like what went on there, but she had certainly come to accept it.

Working behind the bar held no anxiety for her now. She was treated the same as everyone else, not quite as well as she had been when living in New York, but nowhere near as badly as the working girls. She was seen by the residents of town as a young girl who had certainly not made a wise choice in coming to live in a saloon, but who was kind, friendly and capable of making folks overlook her situation. Emma Jane and Abigail had become firm friends and it was the former who first heard the news that Sully had proposed and they were secretly planning a wedding in Denver at the turn of the year.

"It's been inspired by you," Abigail had giggled as they discussed it in hushed whispers one afternoon, "It's so romantic."

Emma Jane hadn't wanted to burst her bubble by telling her that what had happened to her was nowhere near romantic, so she had laughed along, promised faithfully to tell no-one and helped them decide on their plans. Sully was a lovely man, she had to admit. Quiet, thoughtful and clearly captivated by Abigail, Emma Jane always smiled whenever she saw the love in his eyes. She often wished Hank would look at her in that way.

Her relationship with Hank had improved over the last few months, perhaps due to the fact that the saloon had never looked so good since Emma Jane had begun her mass cleaning programme. She actually found scrubbing the floors therapeutic, imagining her sister's face with every harsh movement of the brush. It was only a few weeks until Lydia was due to marry Arthur, and Emma Jane had sent telegrams home, informing her parents of where she was, that she was ok, and wishing Lydia every happiness. None of them had been answered which had momentarily caused her a twinge of regret, a feeling she had become all too good at banishing.

This particular morning, she was on her hands and knees in the kitchen, scrubbing the floor, hoping that with every jerky movement, she was losing some weight. She paused in her exertions, to push a stray wisp of hair away from her red face just as Hank came in.

"Gonna be able to see yer face in that there floor," he greeted her.

"Just don't come in trailing mud on those boots," she warned him, "I'm not doing this for the fun of it, you know."

He grinned and crouched down next to her, "I can think of more fun things to do to git you all hot an' bothered." He kissed her ear affectionately.

"Is that all you ever think about?" she chastised him.

"Reckon so," he replied wickedly, getting back on his feet and pulling her up from the floor, despite her protestations. He pushed her back against the table and kissed her hungrily, his hands moving down her back to cup her buttocks and pull her pelvis in towards his.

"Hank," she protested, twisting out of his grip, "for goodness sake!" She turned to face him, "Haven't you got things to do? The whiskey needs collecting from the telegraph office. It's been sitting there since this morning. It's lucky no-one stole it." She tried to glare at him, but a slight smile played around her lips.

"Fine," he replied, admitting defeat, "But yer the one missin' out." He leant forward and kissed her hard on the lips before sauntering out of the kitchen.

Emma Jane watched him go, a multitude of feelings cascading inside her. No longer the shy little virgin bride, she found herself enjoying their lovemaking more and more as the weeks and months went by. She would find herself excited and willing, carried away with the feelings of pleasure he was capable of creating within her. Then she would come crashing down afterwards, shame colouring her face. Shame that she had enjoyed the sins of the flesh so much, even if it was with a man who was legally her husband.

Outside of the bedroom, she wasn't sure how she felt about Hank. She had grown to like him a lot more over the past three months, but as far as love was concerned, she was unsure. Did she love him? How would she know if she did? She had fought with Abigail about him once, when her friend had made a throwaway remark about Hank. Emma Jane had leapt to his defence and Abigail had apologised immediately, horrified that she had angered her friend so. Thinking back on that incident, Emma Jane wondered if she had really been standing up for Hank or for herself. Similarly, she had no inclination as to whether or not her loved her. He had never said it, and at first, she had thought that was just the way of things. Her father had never said it to her mother, at least not within her earshot. But then, Sully told Abigail he loved her all the time. Emma Jane didn't know what to think.

She spent the remainder of the morning cleaning the kitchen until she was finally satisfied with it, and then headed out into the bar where the first thirsty customers were arriving. She moved behind the bar without even thinking and starting serving, engaging the men in friendly chitchat, inquiring as to their wives and families. They liked her and they all knew she would never gossip as to which happily married man was partaking of the in-house entertainment.

"Mornin' Emma Jane."

"Good morning, Jake," she replied, as he came up to the bar, already staggering slightly. She was wary of Jake, had been ever since her arrival, but he was Hank's friend so she was as friendly as possible. "What can I get you?"

"Whiskey. Please," he added for her benefit. He watched as she poured it, "So, how you liking our town now?"

"Fine thank you," she replied, "I'm growing quite fond of it."

He downed the drink in one and placed the glass back on the bar for her to pour another, "Town seems to be growing quite fond of you too. Don't suppose you're planning on branching out in here?"

"In what sense?" she asked naively.

"In the entertaining sense," he replied, grinning at her.

"Sorry Jake, that's not my line of work." She held out her hand for the money which he placed in it, his hand closing around hers.

"You have nice hands," he commented, "getting a little rough though." Emma Jane snatched her hand back, "Sorry," he said in a tone which indicated he was anything but, "There's no need to be unfriendly."

"I'm not being unfriendly, Jake."

"Hey Hank!" Jake called to his friend, "You oughta teach your wife some manners."

Hank came up behind Emma Jane, "Problem?"

"No," she replied.

"Just paying her a compliment," Jake said, "She oughta learn to take 'em better."

"Have another whiskey, Jake," Hank said, pouring him another glass, "On the house."

Jake grinned and held up the glass before downing it, "Now that's what I call hospitality." He lurched off to one of the tables where a few men were playing poker.

Emma Jane turned to face her husband, "I'm sorry, but he said…"

"It's ok," Hank cut her off, "You just gotta know how to handle Jake, that's all." He touched her chin briefly, "He give you any more trouble, you come git me."

She smiled gratefully and turned back to serve the next customer, hoping against all hope that her run in with Jake would be the most troublesome thing to happen today.

"Oh my Lord!" Mrs Brown declared as the stagecoach rolled into Colorado Springs, "Frederick, look at this place! It's like…like…" she couldn't find words to describe it. The dusty streets, the ramshackle buildings…it was her worse nightmare. "I can't believe that our daughter is living in a place like this!"

The stage came to an abrupt halt and the driver leapt down to open the door. Mr Brown climbed out first and then reached in to help his wife. Once on her feet, she was even more vocal regarding what she thought.

"This is like something out of a nightmare!" she wailed, "I've never seen anything so…"

"Amanda!" Mr Brown said, "Could you please keep your voice down. I'd rather get back to New York without being attacked by an angry mob." He looked around for someone to help him and saw Loren sweeping the steps of his store, "Hello there? I say, excuse me?" Loren looked up, "Perhaps you can help us."

Loren looked at the travellers, a very wealthy looking couple, who looked increasingly out of place in the town. "Surely, if I can."

"My name is Frederick Brown, this is my wife, Amanda," he motioned to the woman who Loren noticed looked almost disgusted, "We're looking for our daughter. We heard that she was living here. Emma Jane Brown?"

So these were Emma Jane's parents. Loren smiled, "You mean Mrs Lawson? Yeah, she lives here."

"Might you be able to direct us to where we could find her?"

"She lives over in the saloon," Loren pointed.

Mrs Brown's face took on an expression of pure horror, "The…the saloon?" she said, "Surely not? Our daughter is living in a saloon?"

Loren nodded, "Yes Ma'am, with her husband."

"Oh my," Mrs Brown started fanning herself, "Frederick…"

Mr Brown tried to ignore his wife's hysterics, "Thank you sir. Thank you very much." He turned away and then turned back again, "One more thing. Is there a hotel near here where we can stay?"

Loren tried and failed to hide his mirth, "Hotel? Here? No, I'm afraid not. There is the boarding house though. Mrs Cooper would be glad to put you up for however long you're planning to stay."

"Thank you," Mr Brown replied hurriedly, before his wife could declare Mrs Cooper's establishment unfit. He propelled his wife out of Loren's earshot, "My dear, I think the sooner we find Emma Jane and get out of here, the better." She nodded, "I'm going to go over to the saloon and find her."

"But, what will I do? I want to see her. I want to give her a piece of my mind!" Mrs Brown's eyes glittered with anger.

"Why don't you go over to the boarding house and get us a room for the night," he suggested to her, "I'm sure you can manage that dear," he added before she could refuse.

"Yes Frederick, of course. Driver!" She clicked her fingers at the unsuspecting stagecoach driver and gestured over to the boarding house.

Mr Brown meanwhile, made his way over to the saloon, running over in his head how he was to approach his daughter. The softly softly approach would be likely to yield the most results, at least in the beginning. As he reached the door, he could hear the sound of laughter and pushing it open, he ventured inside. At first, he couldn't see anything through the thick cigar smoke, but as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he could pick out the patrons sitting at the tables and the…girls…wandering around the room in search of business. Then, to his horror, he saw Emma Jane wiping down the bar. He walked slowly over to her, but she didn't look up.

"What will it be?" she asked.

"You on the stagecoach with us back to New York."

Emma Jane looked up quickly and came face to face with her father, "Father, I…" she was lost for words, "What are you doing here?"

"Your mother and I came to get you and bring you home," he replied, "We've missed you darling."

"Mother is…is here?" she questioned, her eyes wide.

"Yes, she's over at the boarding house securing us a room for the night. Hopefully one night is all it will take," he said, regarding her steadily, "Emma Jane…" he shook his head, "what were you thinking?"

She hung her head, "I'm sorry, father. I didn't plan any of it. It just happened." She looked up, "Are you and Mother very angry?"

"Well we were hardly jumping for joy when we heard the news," he replied, "but it's easily rectified."

"It is?"

"Well, people will talk, you know what the city is like. But it'll be old news soon. No-one will remember and you can start again."

Emma Jane frowned, "I don't understand."

"You don't think your Mother and I came all the way here to congratulate you, do you? We came to take you home."

"I am home."

Mr Brown sighed, "Emma Jane, whatever fanciful notion you may have dreamed up for yourself, this is not how you were brought up. You're living in a liquor house for a start. Respectable women, like yourself, don't do this sort of thing. Your Mother is quite put out by it all."

Emma Jane opened her mouth to reply when all of a sudden, a fight broke out between Jake and one of the men he was drinking with. Chairs were overturned and the two began trading blows. Mr Brown ducked to one side, while Emma Jane ran towards the kitchen, "Hank!"

Within seconds, Hank appeared, grabbed both men by the collars and threw them out the door into the street, "Take it outside!" he yelled after them, "And stay out!" With that he came back in and caught sight of the well dressed gentleman talking to his wife, "Well now, looks like we're actually starting to get a decent class of customer.

"Father, this is Hank Lawson, my husband," Emma Jane said timidly.

Mr Brown looked at Hank in shock. He had envisioned many things, but not this tall rangy stranger with the long blond hair. Amanda would faint when she saw him.

"Pleased to meet you," Hank held out his hand which Mr Brown shook stupidly, "Welcome to town." He jumped over the bar and put his arm around his wife's waist, "Been wonderin' when the in-laws would show up."

"Uh…yes…quite," Mr Brown recovered himself, "My wife and I…we just arrived on the stagecoach."

"Father…"

"Emma Jane, I think you should go over to the boarding house and see your mother. I'd like to have a chat with Mr Lawson at some point."

"No problem," Hank spread his hands, "Whenever you like."

"Maybe later this evening," he replied, "Now please, Emma Jane."

Emma Jane looked at Hank who nodded, "Go on. Don't need you til later anyway."

She came around the bar and fell into step behind her father who was eager to get out of the saloon as quickly as possible. Once into the open she hurried to catch him, "Father, I want you to know…"

"I'm not interested in your excuses, Emma Jane," he replied, striding onwards, "I will talk to Mr Lawson and I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."

"Arrangement? What kind of arrangement?" Her question went unanswered however, as Mrs Brown appeared in front of them.

"Emma Jane!" she declared, hurrying forwards. At first, she thought her mother was going to embrace her, but instead, she landed a stinging blow to Emma Jane's cheek, "How could you?"

"Amanda, let's take this inside please," Mr Brown said, ushering his family into the boarding house and up the stairs to the room they had rented for the night. Emma Jane glanced back down the stairs to see little Matthew watching wide-eyed. Mr Brown closed the door firmly behind her and turned to face his wife and daughter. "Well," he began, "Well I never."

"Did you see him?" Mrs Brown demanded.

"Yes I saw him," Mr Brown replied, "and let me tell you, it's worse than we thought."

"Worse?"

"He's a brute!" Mr Brown declared, "throwing men about left, right and centre, pawing Emma Jane like she was…well…"

"That's not true!" Emma Jane interrupted, "He was breaking up a fight! If he didn't, the whole saloon could have been destroyed."

"Yes, well, that would hardly be a disaster, would it?"

"As for 'pawing me,'" she continued, "He was just being affectionate."

"Affectionate? Affectionate?" Mr Brown rounded on her, "He was treating you no better than those…women…that work there!"

"What women?" Mrs Brown asked.

"Women of disrepute," her husband replied.

Mrs Brown threw up her hands, "This gets better and better with each passing moment!" She glared at her daughter, "Do you have any idea what you've done? To us? To your brother and sister?"

"Lydia's only put out because I got married first," Emma Jane replied, "And because, for once, the attention wasn't completely focused on her." Mrs Brown slapped her again, causing tears to spring to her eyes.

"We're a laughing stock!" she yelled, "Do you know what people are saying?"

"That I've lived up to expectation?" Emma Jane fought back, "I've always been considered wayward, ill-tempered, useless…"

"That's enough," her father said.

"But here, people like me. I've got friends. I've got a husband. I'm happy! Why don't you want me to be happy?"

"I said, that's enough!" Mr Brown thundered, "You are an ungrateful, selfish girl! We have given you everything you ever wanted and this is how you repay us? By running away? By marrying the first lout that asks for your hand?"

"He's not a lout!"

"Well, he's no Arthur Wallis, put it that way."

"I don't want an Arthur Wallis! I never have!" Emma Jane rushed for the door, "I hate you! I hate both of you!" With that, she wrenched it open and ran down the stairs and back out into the streets, tears streaming down her face, her body racked with sobs. She knew she couldn't go back to the saloon, so she turned and ran towards the meadow.

"Frederick, I can hardly believe…" Mrs Brown was lost for words, "She was always wilful, but this…"

"Don't worry, my dear," Mr Brown said, "Mr Lawson may be a lout and a brute, but he's not stupid. There's always one thing that these kind of people understand and that's money."

"I don't understand."

"He won't turn down the offer of a pretty penny to let us take Emma Jane back home with us. An annulment shouldn't be difficult to obtain under the circumstances, and then we can put this whole sorry mess behind us."

Abigail found Emma Jane lying face down on the grass in the meadow breaking her heart. She glanced around, wondering at first what to do, before hurrying over and crouching down beside her friend, "What's wrong?" she asked, putting a hand gently on Emma Jane's back.

"My…parents…"Emma Jane hiccupped, "I…hate them!"

"I see," Abigail replied evenly, "Why?"

"They…hate me," came the obvious response.

"I'm sure that's not true," Abigail laughed.

Emma Jane lifted her tearstained face, "It is true! You didn't hear what they said to me! They called me selfish and ungrateful and…and wilful!" She started to cry again, "I hate them so much!"

"When did they say this?"

"Just now! In the boarding house! They said I had made them laughing stocks back home!"

"Your parents are here?"

Emma Jane nodded, "They called Hank a lout!"

Abigail didn't reply, not wanting to say that quite frankly she agreed with Mr and Mrs Brown on that count. Instead, she smiled sympathetically, "I'm sorry."

"They want to take me home, but I'm not going," Emma Jane wiped her nose, "I'm not a child anymore. I'm a married woman!"

"Maybe you should tell them that. They're your parents, surely they would understand."

Emma Jane sniffed, "You haven't told your parents about you and Sully."

Abigail looked away, "That's different."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is!" Abigail insisted, "Look, why don't you come over to the store for lunch. You can't go back to the saloon looking like that, and Ma and Pa won't mind."

"Ok," Emma Jane acquiesced, pulling herself up from the ground. Hopefully by now, her parents would have calmed down considerably.

"So," Hank said, sitting down opposite his father-in-law, "What did you want to talk 'bout?"

Mr Brown regarded his steadily. He knew Hank's type, loud, brash, but certainly not stupid, "I have a proposition for you Mr Lawson."

Hank blew smoke out lazily, causing Mr Brown to cough slightly, "Now what might that be?"

"You have a…thriving business," Mr Brown looked around, "anyone can see that. Your establishment is clearly very popular."

"Maybe that's cause this is the only one in town."

"Yes…quite. As I was saying, businesses need good revenue in order to survive. I'm a banker, Mr Lawson, I know what I'm talking about. If there's no money, there can be no expansion, no growth." He paused, wondering if Hank was anywhere near understanding his meaning. "I'm prepared to make you an offer."

"What kind of offer?"

"A monetary offer. A good one at that." Mr Brown pulled out his cheque book, "I was thinking somewhere in the region of five thousand dollars."

Hank was taken aback, but years of perfecting his cool exterior meant that it didn't show. "That's a lot of money," was all he said.

"Yes, yes it is."

"What's in it for you?"

Mr Brown cleared his throat, "I will give you the money on the condition that you agree to annul your marriage to my daughter and allow us to take her back home to New York. Where she belongs," he added.

"I see."

"I believe you to be a man of honour, Mr Lawson. I know you can see the sense in this decision. My daughter is not a country girl, she belongs in the city, not here. Whatever fun you may have had in marrying her surely must be wearing off by now. I'm doing you a favour really."

Hank took another drag on his cigarette, "From what I hear, you cam only git one of them annulments if you ain't…consummated the marriage. I gotta tell you, Mr Brown, me and Emma Jane done a lot of that over the last three months."

Mr Brown felt himself colour at the very implication, but he was determined not to be fazed, "Well, we can…overlook that fact, I'm sure." He made the cheque out to Hank, filled in the amount and signed it before holding it out to him, "Do we have an agreement?"

Hank looked at the cheque. It was a hell of a lot of money, more than he had ever even dreamed of having, "Maybe I should take some time to think bout it."

Mr Brown blinked, wondering for a fraction of a second if he had misjudged the situation, "You're not suggesting that you love my daughter, are you?"

"Never said that," Hank replied, "Just reckon I oughta consider it a bit, that's all. Kinda got used to having her around here."

Mr Brown put the cheque back in his pocket and stood up, "My wife and I are planning to leave town first thing in the morning. Perhaps you could get back to me before then as to your decision." He touched his hat briefly and then left the saloon. He met his wife at the door of the boarding house.

"Well?" she demanded, "did he take the money?"

Mr Brown looked at her purposefully, "He will."

Come the evening, the saloon was starting to get busy. Jake had come back, his tail between his legs, apologising for his behaviour, something he always did after getting drunk.

"Emma Jane weren't offended was she?"

Hank shook his head, "Course not. She can take it." He poured his friend a whisky, took one himself and they both drank them down, "Her old man offered me money to annul the marriage and let them take her back to New York."

Jake stared, "How much money?"

"Five thousand."

"Dollars?" Jake spluttered in amazement. Hank nodded, "What did you say?"

"Told him I'd have to think about it," Hank replied, "Said he's leaving first thing tomorrow. I got til then to make up my mind."

"You're gonna take it though, right?" Jake asked, "I mean, it's five thousand dollars!"

"I don't know," Hank replied.

"You don't know?" Jake was stunned. He knew if a wealthy man like Mr Brown had offered him that, he would have grabbed it with both hands, wife or no wife. "How can you not know?" He paused, "You don't love her, do ya?"

"Course not," Hank answered, "I look stupid to you or somethin'?"

From her position just inside the doorway, Emma Jane blinked back hot tears. She had received her answer. He didn't love her, and he was going to take five thousand dollars from her parents just to emphasise the point. She had been a fool, a fool to think that he would care about her. He had married her because he thought it would be fun, because she was pathetic and helpless, not because he cared one shred for her. He made love to her for his own gain, not because he wanted her next to him. Despite not having known her own deep, true feelings, she had felt something for him. Clearly, however, he did not share the sentiment.

Holding her head high, she made a big show of pretending to have just arrived, to not have heard the exchange that had taken place. She shot Hank and Jake a dazzling smile as she hurried past them and up the stairs to her room. She threw herself on the bed and cried. She had been bought and sold, just like a horse. She felt cheap and used and angry. She would rather die than stand meekly in a corner while money exchanged hands between her father and her husband before being put onto a stagecoach and whisked back to New York to start all over again, the stigma of what she had done hanging over her head. No, she would have to get out of Colorado Springs first, before any of them knew where she was going.

She lay in bed that night, her back to Hank, her body unresponsive to his touch, planning what to do. She wouldn't be able to get out by stage without someone noticing, so it would have to be by some other method, stealing a horse, stowing away in a wagon…something that would put her in charge of her own destiny once again. She would do it first thing, before she had a chance to change her mind.

At the same time as Emma Jane lay plotting her escape, Hank lay beside her, thinking how much pleasure he was going to get out of telling Mr Brown where to stick his five thousand dollars. He liked having Emma Jane around, she was interesting and challenging, and what's more, he hadn't been entirely honest with Jake. Somewhere, deep down inside, he had feelings for her.

TBC Thanks for the reviews!