All the usual disclaimers!

It was the following morning before Emma Jane found out anything more about what had happened the previous afternoon. She needed to know everything about this Indian, the evidence against him, what he had said…how he possibly could be connected to acts which she knew for a fact he hadn't committed. Hank was grouchy, primarily because for the third time in as many days she had lain 'like a sack of oats' while he carried out his husbandly duty. Her excuse was that she was tired and couldn't seem to find the energy. This was true. She had awoken that morning feeling tired and sluggish, a slight fever on her brown. Hank had merely grunted at her and then stalked off to move some crates of whisky, leaving her sitting in bed contemplating what she was going to do. Sully would be unlikely to give her any information, wondering why she was so interested all of a sudden, but she knew many people in town who could be termed 'gossips' and knew they would be more than willing to chat about what had taken place.

She quickly washed and dressed and took Victoria down to the kitchen for some breakfast. Jessica was just making some tea and Emma Jane saw to her dismay that the younger girl was sporting a bruise on the side of her face.

"What happened?" she asked.

Jessica shrugged, "Customer got a bit rowdy, that's all. It's nothin'." She smiled gamely.

Emma Jane wanted to say more, but experience had taught her over the last ten years that when one of the girls had been hurt, they rarely wanted to discuss it, "I'm sorry," she said, "Did you tell Hank?"

Jessica nodded and then turned back to the stove. Emma Jane sat Victoria down and put her breakfast into a bowel, all the time smarting inside that men, whoever they were, could hurt and abuse women the way they did and get away with it. They should be held accountable, brought to justice…and yet she was prepared to allow an innocent man to take the fall for the most heinous of crimes.

"Do you know anything about this Indian that attacked Mrs Lawrence?" she asked.

Jessica turned back around, grateful for a change of subject, "Yes! All the men were talkin' bout it last night! Seems as though this Injun, Grey Owl I think his name is, wasn't on the reservation when he was s'posed to be and he couldn't say where he was!"

"So, they think he did it?"

"Yup, sure do."

"And…Cloud Dancing and Sully are prepared to hand him over?"

"Well…" Jessica leaned over the table conspiratorially, "Jake told me, that he'd heard from Lloyd Bowman, that he'd heard from Loren, that he'd heard from Will Brown, that he'd heard from Alan Lawrence that he'd spoken to Sully and bin told that the Injuns are ashamed and that they're gonna hand him over!"

"So, he'll hang," Emma Jane said quietly, "Just like Hank said."

"Sure will," Jessica straightened up, "But there's talk that folks are gonna give him a good beatin' first. Show him we don't tolerate that kinda thing." She shuddered, "Can you imagine anythin' worse? I mean, I know what I do could be considered bad, but…I grit my teeth and bare it, you know?"

"No," Emma Jane said, "I can't imagine anything worse."

SSSS

"I say we just kill him ourselves."

"Aw, now Jake…" Loren said, "We can't do that, it ain't right! We can't deprive the Lawrences' of the satisfaction of watchin' him hang now, can we?"

"I'm with Jake," Hank said, lighting up a cigarette, "Too easy just to let him hang. Gotta show him some real pain."

"Like he did that poor woman," Jake emphasised, looking at Loren, "What if it had been Maud?"

Loren winced slightly at the mention of his late wife's name, "Well it weren't."

"Could have bin," Hank said, "Could have bin any one of 'em. Could just storm the jail and give him what for."

Reverend Johnston, who had been standing close by, now waded in, "Gentlemen, I can't condone this talk, and neither would the good Lord."

"What's the good Lord gotta do with it?" Jake demanded.

"He had everything to do with it!" the Reverend continued, "He doesn't stand for murder, he stands for peace and forgiveness for all sinners who repent."

"You think that heathen's gonna repent?" Hank asked, incredulously, "Hell, he worships some Injun god anyways. He ain't got no proper religion."

"Neither have you, Hank," the Reverend pointed out, "but if it were you awaiting death and you repented, he would forgive you."

"Well it ain't me," Hank replied fiercely, "Cause I ain't no rapist."

"He'll get what's comin' to him," Jake said, "You wait and see."

Emma Jane, who had opened the saloon door on Hank's last remark, took a deep breath and hugged Victoria closer to her. "What are you men gossiping about?" she asked in an attempt at false cheeriness.

"You see Martha Lawrence," Jake seized on her, "You know how she's sufferin', right?"

"Yes, I spoke with her."

"She wants him to suffer too, right?" he pressed her.

Emma Jane paused, "Well, she's angry, naturally, and hurt. I think any women would want to see her attacker pay." She chose her words carefully, "but I'm not sure that hanging's the right way."

"Thank you, Emma Jane," the Reverend said, "Straight from the mouth of a woman."

"One who ain't bin raped," Hank said poignantly.

"That's very true," she replied quickly, "Loren, I was just on my way over to buy some material. Victoria could do with a new dress."

Loren grunted in acknowledgement and led the way across the street back to his store. There were two other customers when Emma Jane went in and as she headed for the fabric section, she could hear them talking.

"Terrible thing."

"Pushed to the ground and violated in your own home!"

"Doesn't bear thinkin' about!"

"That poor woman. No wonder she ain't been in town recently. Probably afraid to see folks that know."

"She's gonna have to come back some time. Can't stay out on that farm forever."

Emma Jane tried to block them out as she looked through the fabric, but their talk was incessant, burning into her brain, their words swirling around.

"…bleedin' and everythin'…"

"…imagine another man…."

"…tearin' at yer skirts…"

"…forcin' himself…"

Loren, from his position at the counter, was watching Emma Jane closely. She hadn't looked particularly well when she emerged on the porch of the saloon, her face flushed. Now, she seemed to be standing merely staring at the fabric, swaying slightly.

"Emma Jane?" he called out to her, "You a'right?"

She turned to look at him and he noticed she had gone deathly pale. In the next instance, she grabbed onto the shelf for support before sliding down it, Victoria dropping out of her arms onto the floor.

"Oh my!" one of the women rushed forward to where Victoria had landed and was crying, "Oh my goodness, are you all right?"

"Emma Jane?" Loren hurried over to where she was half-sitting, half-lying on the floor. As he peered down at her, she opened her eyes again, "Emma Jane?"

"I…" she started to talk, "I…what…?"

"You fainted," he told her, "It's all right now though."

"I'll get that doctor," the other woman said, dashing out of the store.

"Vicky…" Emma Jane asked weakly.

"She's fine," the woman who was holding Victoria replied, "She just got a bit of a fright that's all."

Emma Jane tried to get to her feet.

"Maybe you should just sit still for a minute," Loren said, "I'll get you some water."

At that moment, the other woman returned, followed by Michaela, who immediately rushed over and crouched down next to her.

"Emma Jane, are you all right?" she asked, putting her hand on her friend's forehead.

"I'm…fine," she replied, "I just fainted, that's all."

"You've got a bit of a temperature," Michaela informed her, "I'd like you to come over to the clinic so I can check you over."

"I'm fine," she insisted, struggling to her feet and taking a still wailing Victoria from the woman, "I'm…" at that moment, another dizzy spell came over her and she clutched onto Michaela for support.

"No arguments," Michaela said, "You're coming over with me, right now." She took Emma Jane's arm and gently led her towards the door of the store. As they emerged out into the morning sunshine, Hank, who had still been standing smoking with Jake, caught sight of them and dashed over.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Emma Jane said quickly, "I fainted, that's all."

"Fainted?" he replied, his tone derogatory.

"I'm taking her over to the clinic," Michaela informed him, "Perhaps you could be so good as to take your daughter."

Hank reluctantly took Victoria from Emma Jane and carried her back over towards the saloon while Michaela and Emma Jane continued on over to the clinic. Once inside, Michaela sat her down on the bed and took out her stethoscope.

"Have you been feeling ill?" she asked, pressing it against Emma Jane's chest and asking her to take a deep breath.

"Just this morning," Emma Jane replied, eager to keep as few details as possible from her, "I had a bit of a fever."

"Yes I see," Michaela said, "Your lungs sound fine. I'm just going to check your eyes." She lifted a light and held it up while she looked into each of Emma Jane's eyes in turn, "They seem fine too." She stepped back and looked at her. "When you brought Victoria in a few days ago, you seemed to be in pain."

Emma Jane waved her hand, "It was nothing."

"But it might be linked to what's wrong with you. Would you mind if I conducted an exam?"

Emma Jane paused, "I'm…not sure…"

"It won't hurt," Michaela reassured her, "but it will give me a better idea of how best to treat you."

Emma Jane nodded, "Ok." She lay back on the bed and hitched her skirts up. The first thing Michaela noticed, was the bruising on her inner thighs.

"You have some bruising."

"I fell," Emma Jane replied, before she realised how improbable it sounded.

Michaela said nothing, but continued her exam. As she looked internally, Emma Jane winced in pain. Michaela stepped back, troubled, "You can sit up now."

Emma Jane sat up and pulled her skirts back down, remembering only too well another such moment.

"You have some redness and inflammation," Michaela said, "as well as the bruising on your thighs."

"Do you think that's what caused me to faint?"

"I'm concerned as to why you have these symptoms."

"Like I said, I fell."

"Emma Jane…"

"What?" Emma Jane looked at her almost defiantly, "What?"

"You have an infection. Have you been experiencing any pain when you urinate?"

"It's been burning a little, that's all. It happens, right?"

"Well, yes it does. These types of infections are relatively common…"

"So, I'm fine," Emma Jane stood up.

"But an infection wouldn't cause the swelling and bruising that you have," Michaela continued, "I understand this is a sensitive subject, but if Hank has…"

"What? If Hank has what?"

Michaela chose her words carefully, "If Hank has ever…forced you to…"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Emma Jane declared, "Hank would never do such a thing to me! Whatever you or anyone else might think of him, he is not a rapist!"

"Then who has raped you?" Michaela asked boldly.

Emma Jane froze like a rabbit caught in headlights, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I've seen it before. In married women and in single women. It's nothing to be ashamed of if it has happened to you."

"It hasn't," Emma Jane replied, "Martha Lawrence was raped, not me."

"I went to see her," Michaela continued, "her husband was worried about her injuries. She said you had visited her."

"Out of concern, that's all."

Michaela didn't believe her, "I didn't know you were friends with her."

"You've only been here a few months, how could you possibly know who I'm friends with?" Emma Jane demanded.

"I thought on some level, that we were friends."

"We are," Emma Jane looked away.

"Then talk to me," Michaela said, "I want to try and help you." She paused, "Did the man who raped Martha Lawrence rape you too?"

Emma Jane didn't say anything for a long moment. To be able to finally tell someone, someone who wouldn't judge her, wouldn't cast her out as if she were diseased, wouldn't go running to Hank…She nodded, "Yes."

Michaela sighed, "I'm so very sorry."

"So am I."

"When did it happen?"

"The night before Martha was attacked," Emma Jane replied, "I was putting out the trash when…when he grabbed me. He was drunk."

"Have you told Hank?"

Emma Jane stared at her, "Of course I haven't."

"Why not?"

"Because…because I know how he would react. He's riled up enough as it is about what happened to Martha. He and Jake want to go out and kill that Indian themselves, without waiting for justice. How much worse would it be if he knew that I had been attacked too? Besides," she looked down at her hands, "I'm not sure how he would cope around me."

"He would support you, surely?"

Emma Jane smiled sadly, "Not every man is like that, Michaela. They want virgin brides, yet they want to be able to go around with other women whenever they choose. I'm not saying Hank does that," she added quickly, "I believe he's been faithful to me, but…" she sighed, "I'm not sure how he'd feel about me having been with another man."

"But you were forced!" Michaela was shocked, "He can hardly blame you for that!"

"Martha Lawrence told me her husband won't even look at her. I don't want that for me and Hank."

Michaela sighed, "I think you're wrong."

"It's been so awful. Pretending that nothing happened, listening while everybody talks about what a tragedy it was," tears pricked her eyes, "all the time knowing that I was a victim too." Emma Jane wiped her eyes viciously, "I can't stand it. Everyone going on about this Indian getting hanged when I know…" she broke off.

"Know what?"

Emma Jane looked at her, "If I tell you this, do you promise not to tell anyone else?"

"I'm a doctor. What you tell me is confidential."

"It wasn't the Indian that did it."

"What?"

Emma Jane nodded, "It was an ordinary man. He'd been drinking in the saloon before it happened. I even served him myself," she let out a bitter laugh, "When I heard about Martha, I went to see her, to see if it was the same man. And it was."

Michaela was stunned, "So Grey Owl's innocent."

"Yes, looks that way."

"But…but he's going to be tried and…and hanged! We can't let that happen! You can't let that happen!" Emma Jane shrugged, "Surely, Mrs Lawrence will tell the truth?"

"No, I don't think she will."

"But…"

"It's gone too far now, Michaela."

"No, it hasn't. You could still speak up. Tell the truth."

Emma Jane shook her head firmly, "No."

"You have to! You can't let an innocent man hang!"

"Do you have any idea what people will say about me?" Emma Jane said.

"What does it matter as long as you tell the truth?"

"When I first came to this town, I was like you. An outsider, a newcomer. People labelled me the same way they labelled you. A rich woman from a big city who has lowered herself to come to Colorado Springs. I know what everyone thought about Hank marrying me. It took me a long time to shed that label, Michaela, and I am not about to give this town the opportunity to give me another one!" Emma Jane headed for the door, "I don't feel good about it, Lord knows I don't, but I'm sorry, I can't say anything."

"Not only will you let an innocent man hang, you'll hurt yourself too," Michaela said, "If you don't speak about this to Hank, you'll destroy your marriage."

"How would you know?" Emma Jane asked, "You know nothing about me, or my marriage."

"I know, that I couldn't keep something like this from the man I loved. And I couldn't let an innocent man go to his death."

Emma Jane nodded, "Well, I guess it's lucky that you aren't me, isn't is Michaela?" She reached into her purse and left some money on the table, "Thank you for treating me." She opened the door and walked outside where, to her surprise, Hank was waiting for her.

"Ya a'right?" he asked, standing up.

"Fine," she smiled at him, "Michaela said it was just a funny turn because of the heat." The door behind her opened and Michaela stepped out.

"You should take some of this," she handed Emma Jane a small bottle of medicine, "It'll make you feel better." She looked pointedly at her, and Emma Jane stared coolly back.

"Thank you," she replied.

Michaela watched as Hank put a protective arm around his wife's waist and led her away from the clinic across the street to the saloon. Emma Jane glanced around to look at her once and Michaela could see the pain in her eyes.

Jessica came out of the saloon and handed Victoria to her mother, just as a horse pulled up outside the saloon. It was Alan Lawrence.

"Mrs Lawson," he touched his hat to her, "My Martha…well, she's askin' to see ya."

Emma Jane paused, "She is?"

"Yes ma'am. She's quite insistent. Got herself worked up into a right state. Wants you to come back with me right now."

"I…"

"She ain't well," Hank said, "Just bin to see the doctor."

"I'm sorry," Alan said, "but Martha's wailin' and cryin'. Said how she's gotta see ya. Somethin' bout how she can't do it?" he looked questioningly at her. "Can you come?"

Emma Jane looked back to the clinic where Michaela was still standing and then at Hank, who merely looked at her. If she didn't go and calm Martha, goodness only knows what could come out of the woman's mouth.

She nodded, "Give me five minutes to change and I'll come with you."