Well, here it is folks, the final chapter - enjoy.

All the usual disclaimers!

"I didn't hear you come in last night," Emma Jane lied the following morning when she found Hank in the kitchen.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"What happened?" she asked nervously, "Did you…find him?"

Hank shook his head, "Nope. Rode to Soda Springs and they said some woman got attacked there too," he looked at her, "She ain't in a good way."

Emma Jane lowered her head and set about making herself some tea, "So…what now?"

"Could be halfway to Washington by now. Got a warrant out fer him. Hopefully someone'll notice him and turn him in," Hank lit a cigarette and blew smoke towards her.

"So…it's over," she said.

Hank looked up at her, "Yeah," he replied softly, "Guess it is." With that, he stood up and walked out of the kitchen. Emma Jane watched him go, wanted to scream at him that she knew what he had done, knew that he had betrayed her, wanted to hit him until he hurt the way she did. But she did none of those things. Instead, she stood holding her cup redundantly in her hand.

At that moment, Jessica appeared in the doorway and paused when she saw Emma Jane. She looked uncomfortable and pulled her shawl tighter around her thin shoulders.

"Mornin'," she said.

"Good morning, Jessica," Emma Jane replied, "tea?"

"Uh…yes, yes please," the younger girl replied, stepping into the kitchen and glancing around, "how…how are ya?"

"Fine," Emma Jane replied carefully, pouring Jessica some tea. "How are you?"

"I'm…fine," she accepted the cup, "Hank…came back then?"

"Yes, but he said they didn't manage to find the man," Emma Jane told her, "but another woman was hurt in Soda Springs."

Jessica's eyes grew wide, "Really?" Emma Jane nodded, "That's terrible!" She looked at Emma Jane guiltily, "Sorry, didn't mean to make it sound like…"

"Don't worry about it," Emma Jane replied, sitting down at the table.

Jessica paused and then joined her. She sat, twisting her cup around and around in her hands, as if working up the nerve to say something. Emma Jane let her sweat. After what seemed like hours, she finally spoke, "Emma Jane…"

"It's all right," Emma Jane interrupted her.

Jessica looked at her, "Ya don't know what I'm goin' to say."

"Yes I do," Emma Jane looked at her, "You're going to tell me that Hank came to you last night, aren't you?" Jessica looked down at the table, "It's all right, Jessica."

"No it ain't," Jessica moaned, "Shoulda said no, shoulda…"

"And what if you had? He would have hurt you," Emma Jane admitted, "We both know what he's like."

"Seems to have hit him hard, this business about what happened to ya."

"Yes, it has."

"I just wanted ya to know that…well…I didn't want him to…"

"I know," Emma Jane stood up. Despite hearing and accepting Jessica's apology, it still caused her pain to think about her husband making love to another woman. She smiled briefly at her before heading out into the bar where Hank was watering down the whiskey before opening. "If the customers caught you doing that, there would be a riot," she joked lamely.

He didn't look up, "Guess it's a good thing we're closed then, ain't it?"

"Hank…we need to talk."

"Bout what?" he blew smoke out lazily.

"You know what about. About everything that happened. And…about yesterday."

"Got stuff to do today," he told her.

"Like what?"

"Stuff that ain't yer business."

"I'm…I'm just interested, that's all."

"Well don't be. Ain't got nothin' to do with ya." He stopped what he was doing and made to move past her to the door.

"I know what you did," she said boldly.

Hank turned to face her, "What ya talkin' about?"

"I know you spent the night with Jessica, I'm not stupid," she replied, "Did you think that was a way to make things even between us?" He looked down at the ground, "I lay with someone else, albeit against my will, so you had to do the same?"

"She's one of my girls. I own her and I can do what I like with her," he said, "Ain't nothin' ya can do about it." He turned on his heel and pushed open the doors onto the porch. But he got no pleasure from his words and Emma Jane couldn't see him close his eyes and kick the wall in self-loathing.

SSSSS

"As you know, folks, it's the annual picnic tomorrow," Reverend Johnston informed his faithful parishioners at church the following morning, "There's going to be lots of fun and games for the children, and maybe even for the adults," a titter ran through the congregation, "The pie-baking contest will go ahead as usual and I know the judges are looking forward to some excellent entries this year." There was a round of applause, "Now, let's join our voices and sing, 'All Things Bright and Beautiful.'

Emma Jane stood with the rest of the congregation, but she couldn't find the voice to sing. It had been a chore coming to church that morning, and she had almost decided not to bother. But then it had occurred to her that by not going, she would only be inciting the gossipmongers in town to talk about her more. So, she had donned her best dress and carried on regardless. Unfortunately, Martha Lawrence had also chosen this particular day to attend church and the two women came face to face at the door on the way in.

"Good morning, Martha," Emma Jane had greeted her cautiously.

Martha's look had been one of pure ice, and she and Alan had gone on inside without so much as returning the greeting. The Reverend, having noticed the exchange, clasped Emma Jane's hand in his.

"Good to see you this morning, Emma Jane," he had said warmly.

"Thank you, Reverend," she had replied weakly, moving into the interior. She had sat in her usual seat, but Mrs Peterson, the old woman who usually sat next to her, had not been her normal chatty self. Instead, she had smiled briefly at her before turning to talk to someone else.

"Surely what I did wasn't so bad!" she wanted to scream out at all of them. But she didn't, she kept her counsel and what was left of her dignity.

As the service concluded, she didn't wait around to speak to anyone afterwards, instead making her way hurriedly back across the grass to town. As she walked, she heard Horace call to her from behind.

"Emma Jane!" She turned around, "Glad I caught ya," he said, "this came for ya, from New York."

"Thank you, Horace," she replied, taking the letter from him. It was in her brother's handwriting, and she tore it open, eager to read words of comfort.

XXXX

Dear Emma Jane,

I apologise for not having responded to your last letter with more haste, but things here have been rather chaotic since I received your letter. Poor Sarah contracted influenza which naturally sent poor Arthur into another fit of depression. He was terrified that he was about to lose his daughter so soon after poor Lydia. However, Doctor O'Neil was most kind and Sarah is now well on the way to being back to normal. She and Lucy are asking for you most kindly and enquiring as to when they might see you and Victoria again. They so enjoyed their trip to Colorado Springs, but it is most definitely your turn to come home. Won't you come to New York to see us all? I know Father would like it too.

Mother is, I'm afraid to say, the same as always. She refuses to discuss you in any shape or form, no matter how hard Father and I try. I believe she is so set in her ways now that nothing will alter her manner and for that I am most truly sorry. How I wish we could all be the happy family we once were.

Anyway, I must dash. There's an important meeting at the bank today and Father insists I attend – worse luck! Please write back quickly and please come to see us soon.

We all love and miss you dearly,

Thomas.

XXXX

Emma Jane held the letter against her chest, soaking in the kind words. She expected no less from her mother and her insults no longer mattered. But in a time where she now felt so alienated by the town, and by her husband, it was a comfort to know that someone still wanted to see her.

She arrived back at the saloon in time to witness a man come flying out of the door and land in a heap on the ground in front of her. Another quickly followed suit and Hank appeared behind them, his threatening manner daring them to try and come back inside.

"Git lost!" he yelled at them, and the two scrambled to their feet and bolted back up the street. He turned to look at her, "What ya gawkin' at?"

"Nothing," she replied, "What's going on?"

"Just a coupla drunks who don't understand that the girls git Sunday's off." With that, he turned and walked back inside.

Emma Jane followed him inside, not noticing the spilt beer and broken glass until it was too late. She slipped and landed heavily on her bottom. A few of the men in the saloon chuckled under their breath, but didn't offer to help her.

Hank was instantly by her side, "Ya all right?" he helped her up.

"Ow, no," she replied, lifting her arm up to reveal a cut on her forearm.

He touched her arm gently, "Best go see Doctor Mike."

"She's probably still socialising at the church," Emma Jane replied, trying and failing to keep a note of bitterness out of her voice. "I can probably fix it myself." She moved past him and hurried into the kitchen, lifting a damp cloth and pressing it to her arm. "Ow…" she winced at the pain. "So stupid!" she raged at herself, "perfect end to a perfect week!"

"What is?" Jessica asked, coming into the kitchen behind her, "Oh Lord, Emma Jane!" she gasped at the sight of the blood, "What happened?"

"I slipped and cut it on some glass," she replied.

"Ya should go see Doctor Mike."

"I would if she was there."

"She is. Just saw her come back from church."

Emma Jane hurried past her, back through the bar and outside onto the street. She made her way over to the clinic and rang the bell.

Michaela answered the door, "Emma Jane? What happened?" she asked, catching sight of her arm.

"Let's just say that spilt beer and broken glass are a deadly combination," Emma Jane replied wryly, sitting down on the bed and taking the cloth off of her arm, "How bad is it?"

Michaela examined her, "You have a shard embedded in the wound which I'll have to remove, and you'll need a few stitches. Apart from that, you should be fine."

"Thank you," Emma Jane replied quietly. She remained silent while Michaela worked, only grimacing slightly as the glass was carefully removed and gritting her teeth as the stitches were sewn in, "It seems as though I've never been out of here recently," she joked.

Michaela smiled, "You do seem to be having a bad time of it." Her smile dropped as she thought back over the events of the last few days, "There you go, that should be fine."

"Thank you," Emma Jane reached into her purse and took out some money, "Will that cover it?"

"Yes," Michaela replied, "Emma Jane…?" the latter turned to face her, "If you want to talk…about what happened…"

"I appreciate it," Emma Jane cut her off, "thank you again." She opened the door of the clinic and stepped back outside into the morning sunshine. Hank was on the saloon porch and she made her way over to him.

"What did the doc say?" he asked her.

"She removed the glass and patched me up," she replied, "she said I should be fine." She stepped onto the porch beside him, "I suppose that'll teach me to look where I'm going."

He smiled at her, "Ya always just go barrellin' in. Should look before ya leap."

She smiled back at him, "I suppose you're right." She held his gaze for a long moment, those piercing blue eyes looking directly into hers. For the first time since her attack, she felt an overwhelming sense of desire and she moved forward to allow him to envelop her in his arms.

But Hank stepped back and the moment was gone, "Got customers," he said before turning and walking back into the saloon, leaving her standing quite alone.

SSSS

The day seemed unending. After lunch, Emma Jane took Victoria out to the meadow, watching as the preparations were being made for the picnic the following day. She remembered last year's event as if it were yesterday. The three of them together on a blanket, Victoria crawling about, gurgling happily, Hank gently kissing her neck at every opportunity, playfully reminding her what he was going to do to her when they got back home. It had been a happy day, a happy time, one which she had taken for granted would be the same forever. Now, she was no longer sure about anything.

"Afternoon, Emma Jane!" Grace greeted her cheerfully.

"Hello, Grace," she replied, "how are you?"

"Oh fine, fine. Busy gettin' ready for tomorrow. I got so much cookin' to do I don't know where to start," she laughed, "You and Hank gonna be there I presume? And this little angel," she tickled Victoria playfully.

"I'm…not sure," Emma Jane replied.

"But you've gotta come!" Grace seemed shocked, "Ain't gonna be the same without you!"

"I'm not so sure the rest of the town would agree with you."

Grace waved her hand, "They'll get over it, folks do. You know the hassle Robert E and I have had over these last few years, you've seen it. But things change, people change, people move on. Soon things just become part of the past." She touched the other woman's arm, "Remember that."

Emma Jane nodded to appease Grace, but in her own heart, she knew the other woman didn't really know what was happening for her. When she got back to the saloon, Hank was nowhere to be seen.

"He's upstairs," Jessica told her.

Emma Jane made her way up the stairs carrying Victoria in her arms. Her daughter was almost fast asleep, exhausted from the afternoon's excursion and Emma Jane put her down to sleep in her bed. Then she went into her bedroom to find Hank sitting on the bed.

"Hello," she greeted him. "Victoria's fast asleep. What are you doing up here?"

He shrugged, "Thinkin'."

"About what?"

"I have to tell ya everythin'?" he said angrily, turning to look at her.

"No," she replied, taken aback, "I was only asking."

"Well don't bother," he got up and made to move past her to the door, but she caught his arm.

"Hank…" she turned him to face her, "Can't we…I mean, I want to…" she leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. For the briefest of moments, he responded to her, but all too suddenly he pushed her away from him.

"Can't," he said, throwing open the door,"can't."

SSSSS

He managed to avoid her spectacularly for the rest of the day, never staying one place long enough for her to be able to talk to him, never catching her eye, never even looking in her direction. It hurt, more than anything she ever thought could, because she knew his behaviour was more about her lying than about the attack itself.

When the saloon finally closed and she had put Victoria to bed for the night, Emma Jane made her way back downstairs to the now deserted bar, where she suspected her husband was drowning his sorrows. She was right.

"Hank…" Emma Jane approached where he was sitting at a table in the middle of the saloon drinking what she could only imagine was at least his fifth or sixth whiskey. He looked up drunkenly as she approached, but he said nothing, "We need to talk," she said, feeling as though she was repeating herself, "but it seems as though every time I try to get through to you, you're always angry, or distant…or drunk," she gestured to the bottle in front of him, "You won't listen to anything I have to say about what happened." She took a deep breath, "But you're going to listen now."

Hank watched her, still saying nothing.

"I'm sorry for what I did. I know it seems as though I've said it a hundred times, but it's true, and I mean it. I should have told you right from the start what had happened, that very morning you came home. I should never have pretended that nothing had happened and I should never have let it go on as long. I mean," she laughed bitterly, "I turned Martha's grief right on its head and smacked her hard with it. I threatened her into lying at the trial, telling her that no-one would believe her, just to spare my own embarrassment." She looked down at her hands, which she was nervously rubbing together. "That was wrong. I should have spoken up at the beginning. We could have worked through things together and Grey Owl would never have been almost hung."

"Only an Injun," he mumbled.

She ignored his comment, "I've wanted to open up to you. I've wanted us to be able to discuss this…thing that happened to me like adults. I've wanted you to hold me, and comfort me and tell me that it wasn't my fault, that everything will be all right. But I went about it the wrong way and in doing so, I made you feel as though I don't want you when the truth is, I do, more than anything."

Hank poured another whiskey.

"I know that you think I've regressed, gone back to the…frightened, trembling person in bed that I was when I first married you. That I've lost the feelings, the sensations that I learned to love when I was with you, all because some man, some evil man, decided to show me that an act which I associated with love can also be one perpetrated with fear. I want to get back to the way we were, you have to know how much I want that. I tried, more than once to make you see how much I want to be with you." She looked at him, hoping he would say something to show he understood, that he agreed. But he said nothing.

"But…" she paused, "over the last few days, I've come to realise that maybe that can't ever happen. Maybe you can't ever see me the way you used to. Maybe I really am…tainted in your eyes." She could feel tears welling up, "But I didn't betray you willingly, and you did," the tears spilled over and her voice shook, "You betrayed me by spending the night with Jessica, and if you did it to hurt me, you succeeded. And right now, that's like a great big…thorn…in the side of our marriage, one that I can't get passed, just as you can't seem to get passed me being attacked." She swallowed against the lump in her throat, "So…I think it might be best if I go away for a while. Give you some time to…" she wasn't even sure what time would do for him. She pulled Thomas's letter from her pocket, "I got this from Thomas this morning, wanting to know how I am, how we all are. He's full of news about Sarah and Lucy and my parents." Emma Jane looked at her husband, "He wanted to know if there was any chance I could perhaps visit them. So, I think…I think I might go to New York…for a while…to see them and…to give us both a chance to…clear our heads."

Hank looked up at her and she held his gaze, but she saw nothing in his expression that indicated he wanted her to stay.

"The stage leaves for Denver in the morning," she told him, "I thought…sooner rather than later."

He nodded drunkenly, "Don't deserve ya now anyway."

In her troubled mental state, Emma Jane took this to mean that she was no longer worthy of being Hank's wife, without thinking for a moment that it could be the other way around.

"No," she replied sadly, "I suppose you don't." With that, she turned on her heel and made her way back over to the stairs. Then she stopped and turned back around, "Of course…I'll be taking Victoria with me." He didn't say anything, so she turned and hurried up the stairs, sobs bursting forth from her chest with every step. When she reached their bedroom, she threw herself down on top of the bed and cried, not caring who might hear her.

SSSSS

"Mornin' Emma Jane," Loren greeted her warily the following morning as she entered his store to gather some things before she left.

"Good morning, Loren," she replied, looking around for what could be her last time. She lifted some candy for Victoria and another one of those terrible books that she had become so addicted to. The shops would be different in New York. There would be no need to wait weeks for the simplest of items to be available and she would be able to choose from a much wider variety. But her heart still ached at the thought of not being able to shop in 'Bray's Mercantile' any more. She took her purchases to the counter.

"I ordered that material for ya," Loren told her, "It should be here in a coupla weeks."

"Material?"

"That blue stuff ya liked in the catalogue."

She remembered ordering it, excitedly planning how she could make a dress for herself and one for Victoria. "Cancel it," she said calmly.

"Cancel?"

Emma Jane nodded and then looked at him for a long moment before speaking, "I know you blame me for what happened to Abigail. I know you think that if I had never come to town, she would never have run off with Sully and…" Loren looked uncomfortable, "I've never really told you that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what happened to her. I loved her dearly, Loren, you have to know that." Emma Jane felt her eyes well up again and she fought back the tears, "I'm leaving today."

"Leavin'?" he looked stunned.

She nodded, "I'm going back to New York for…for a while, and I want to go, knowing that we're parting on good terms."

"But…but why?" Loren asked.

"Many reasons," she replied vaguely, not wanting to go into them at that moment, "can we be friends?" she looked at him hopefully.

Loren, still taken aback, nodded, "Sure…sure, we're friends…"

"Thank you," she paid for her purchases and left the store before he could ask her any more. Back in the saloon, Jessica was sweeping the floor of the bar, and she looked up when Emma Jane pushed the door open.

"The girls are sayin' yer leavin'," she greeted her, "That true?"

Emma Jane sighed at the thought of having to go through the same tired conversation and explanation with all of the townsfolk, "Yes, it's true. I'm going to New York for a while."

"Is it cause of me and Hank?"

"No," she half-lied, "It's not. It's about me." She glanced around, "Have you seen Hank?"

Jessica shook her head, "He was upstairs with Vicky but that was a while ago."

Emma Jane thanked her and then moved upstairs to her daughter's bedroom. Victoria was sitting on the floor playing with some toys when her mother entered. There was no sign of Hank. Picking her up, Emma Jane held her close to her, this seemingly one good thing that had emerged from the wreck of her marriage. She carried her downstairs to the kitchen where her bags were ready and waiting.

"Yer leavin' now?" Jessica said. Emma Jane nodded, "But…I thought…I mean…"

"Will you carry Vicky out to the stage for me?" Emma Jane asked.

"Sure," Jessica put her broom down and lifted Victoria from her mother. Emma Jane lifted the two cases she had packed and led the way out of the saloon back into the street where the stagecoach was just pulling up outside Loren's store.

She held her head high, and ignored the stares she was receiving from people passing by. She knew they were talking about her, whispering about what she had done, and she did her best to block it out. The driver took her cases from her and stowed them on the roof of the stage.

"Need a hand up, ma'am?" he asked her.

Emma Jane was about to reply when she heard her name being called and turned to see Michaela hurrying towards her. She took a deep breath and turned to smile at the doctor.

"Good morning, Michaela."

Michaela looked surprised, "Are you leaving?"

"Well observed."

"I don't understand."

"Things…haven't gone so well since the trial," Emma Jane told her briefly, "Let's just say that Hank and I need some time apart."

"I'm sorry," Michaela said. "For the fact that you're leaving," she added.

"Not for speaking up against me?"

Michaela paused, "No, I'm not sorry for that. I did what I thought was right at the time. It wouldn't have been right to allow Grey Owl to hang."

"You're right," Emma Jane nodded, "I should have listened to you when you tried to tell me. But I didn't," she sighed, "and by lying, I've only made things ten times worse than I would have if I'd just told the truth from the start." She smiled wanly, "Next time, I promise I will take your advice."

"Are you coming back?" Michaela asked the loaded question.

Emma Jane glanced around back at the saloon, "Maybe. One day." She left it at that and took the driver's hand to help her into the stage. Jessica leaned in and handed Victoria to her before scuttling back across the street to watch from the saloon porch.

"Goodbye Michaela," Emma Jane held her hand out of the window.

Michaela shook it sadly, "Goodbye Emma Jane."

The driver cracked his whip and the stage shuddered forward. Emma Jane looked out of the window as it moved through the town where she had spent the last ten years of her life. As it passed the saloon, she thought about the last time she had left for Lydia's funeral, waving and blowing kisses at her husband, promising and knowing she would be back very soon. This time, it was so very different.

Hank watched from the saloon window as the stage rumbled past, taking the only woman he had ever loved, and their child, further and further away from him. If he hurried, he could stop it, could throw himself in front of the horses, force it to stop…force her to stay.

Instead, he turned back to the bar and opened another bottle of whiskey.

The End?

Would I do that to you guys? Course not - another story coming soon!