Thanks for being patient guys! Here's the next chapter for you to enjoy. I have to apologise for the inconsistencies in the scenes from The Campaign - I didn't want to make it exactly the same and I didn't have the episode to hand to get the dialogue all right - hope you enjoy anyway!

"What?" Emma Jane looked at him, feeling her insides go cold. "What do you have to tell me?"

Hank opened his mouth to reply, already beginning to feel the relief of sharing the problem flood through him, but he was cut off by the sounds of shouting from downstairs. Hank immediately bolted for the door and hurried down the stairs into the saloon. Emma Jane followed quickly behind and burst in behind him just in time to see her husband addressing Mandy angrily.

"Ya got a payin' customer," he was telling her.

"But that's…that's Danny John O'Malley," Mandy replied.

"So?" Hank looked furious, "Git yerself over there."

"What's going on?" Emma Jane waded in.

Mandy turned frightened eyes on her, "I don't want to go with him, Emma Jane." Her voice was barely a whisper, "He's the one that cut that girl up in Manitou."

Emma Jane looked at the so-called 'gentleman' in question. He was well dressed and looked nice enough, but there was a hardness in his eyes and she didn't like the way his gaze roamed over her. "Of course you don't have to go with him," she told the younger girl, "not if you don't want to."

Hank looked at her incredulously, "Not if she don't want to?"

"Not if she's afraid he's going to hurt her."

"I've never hurt a lady in my life, ma'am" O'Malley said, "I'm offended by the insinuation."

"I'm sorry you're offended Mr O'Malley," Emma Jane, "but I'm not going to force her to go with you if she doesn't want to. You'll have to take your custom elsewhere."

"No, ya won't," Hank grabbed Mandy's arm, "she's ready and willin'."

"No she's not," Emma Jane positioned herself in between them, "Mandy, go and check on Will please." The other girl scuttled away quickly before there could be further debate.

"What the hell do ya think yer doin'?" Hank asked quietly, "Drivin' away customers."

"We don't need his kind of custom," she told him, watching as O'Malley loped towards the door. She turned to go back upstairs but Hank grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly over towards the bar.

"I decide what kind of custom we need," he told her, "not you."

"So I don't even have a say on who we let in here?" she demanded.

"It ain't yer place."

Emma Jane was flabbergasted, "Not my place? Is that more of the Jake Slicker theory? Women in the home, but God forbid they actually dare to open their mouths and venture an opinion?"

"We need the money, Emma Jane, can't you see that?"

"I don't see why we need it so badly that you're willing to risk Mandy getting hurt!""The girls belong to me and I decide who they go with!"

"I'm not going to stand back and let you put any of them in danger!"

"That Michaela's thinkin'?" he challenged her, "who the hell she think she is puttin' fool ideas in yer head?"

"What?"

"She's got a lot to answer for, goin' around makin' the women in this town think they're more important than they already are."

Emma Jane looked at him in disbelief. He had always been the typical frontier chauvinist but to hear him talk now… "I know you don't mean that."

"Don't I?" he glared at her.

"You were going to tell me something earlier," she reminded him, "something that seemed important to you."

Hank looked at her, standing in front of him defiantly and suddenly all the impetus to confess left him. He knew exactly what would happen if he did tell her. Her eyes wouldn't fill with tears. She wouldn't cling to him trembling and beg him to make everything all right. She wouldn't lie meek in his arms while he made fierce love to her, all the while reassuring her that he would fix everything. No, if he told her, she would get angry. She would demand to know what had happened, want to know every last detail. She would browbeat him for not doing something about it. Just the thought of it was enough to give him a headache. He was the man of the house, he would fix it. No sense in worrying the lady.

"It was nothin'" he told her dismissively, "nothin' ya need worry yer little head about."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Emma Jane put her hands on her hips.

"Look after the girls, Emma Jane," he told her, his tone slightly gentler, "that's what yer good at."

As he turned away from her, Emma Jane couldn't help wondering whether the remark was meant complimentarily or not.

SSSS

Day turned into night and then day again before Emma Jane had really noticed. She and Hank hadn't spoken for the rest of the day. There had been no real animosity between them, in fact he had even smiled at her across the room at one point, but they hadn't exchanged any words. That night, she had expected him to claim her, as he usually did, but instead he had merely dropped a kiss on her forehead before turning away from her and sleeping as far away from her as possible. She had lain, worried and confused, wanting to ask him what was wrong, but something had stopped her. The tense muscles in his back told her that he was in no mood for talking.

In the morning, he was up and about before she was even awake. After feeding the baby and getting Victoria up and dressed, she went downstairs into the bar to find him sitting at one of the tables, an open bottle of whiskey in front of him.

"Hank, it's barely eight o'clock."

"So?" he looked up at her.

"Well, don't you think it's a little early?"

"No, I don't." He took another drink, "Off to do some more campaignin'?"

"I told Michaela I couldn't help her anymore."

Hank looked up, surprised, "What?"

"You were right," she sighed, sitting down opposite him, "Michaela's views on what goes on here…she might not have said it but…well the saloon probably would suffer and…" she sighed, "and it's our home, despite everything." She glanced up at him, "So I'm a big hypocrite."

Hank smiled, leaned over and took her hand, "No, yer not. Just glad ya saw things from my point of view."

"All right, I've made my confession, what's yours?"

His face fell and he snatched his hand back, "What do ya mean?"

"I mean, there was something you wanted to tell me yesterday and…all of a sudden you clammed up, and don't think I was put off by that 'look after the girls' line." She looked him square in the face, "I know something's wrong, Hank, and I want to know what it is.""Can't ya just let it be?" he stood up and walked away from her over to the bar.

"I could," she replied, "but keeping secrets from each other is what caused us all that trouble last year, remember?" She stood up and walked over behind him. Gently, she put her hands on his back and rested her head against him, "I don't want to go through that again." He turned to face her. "Please, whatever it is, just tell me."

Hank paused, and for a moment, she thought he was going to tell her. Then his face grew hard again, "It's nothin'" He pushed past her, "Gotta water down the whiskey."

SSSS

The campaigning was in full swing. Emma Jane watched from the saloon window as Jake strolled around town doffing his hat and kissing babies. She had never seen him so jovial, although she knew it was more to do with Loren's persuasion than any natural warmth flowing from Jake. Across the street, she saw Michaela and Dorothy climbing into the wagon to take their campaign to those living on the outskirts. Part of her wished she could join them, but a greater part reminded her of what could happen if Michaela won.

Turning away from the window, she looked over at the raucous poker game that was going on in one corner of the room. Hank was right in the thick of it, laughing and joking as if nothing was wrong. She had tried to get him to talk to her again, but he had maintained a steadfast silence. Every time he caught her eye, the smile on his face would slip and he would look away as quickly as possible. She had started to imagine all sorts of scenarios that could be responsible for his mood and she was terrified that it had to do with his health. What if he was sick?

"Emma Jane!" she was roused from her thoughts by the sound of him calling her name. Looking up, she saw him gesture to the bar, "Git some more drinks."

Obediently, she went behind the bar and retrieved another couple of bottles of whiskey. The noise from the game was beginning to give her a headache and she slammed the bottles down on the table harder than she intended. Hank grabbed her wrist and for a moment, their gazes locked, then she pulled away from him and moved back across the room. If he could close himself off from her, then so could she. She made her way over to the stairs to go and check on the children when the door to one of the rooms flew open and Mandy came hurrying out, Danny John O'Malley in close pursuit. He grabbed her around the waist and tried to pull her back into the room.

Emma Jane ran forward and forced her way in between them, "Let her go!" she cried. O'Malley responded by hitting her hard across the face and then throwing Mandy at her. Both women fell in a heap and O'Malley rushed for the door of the saloon. Most of the customers were too caught off guard to react, but Hank leapt to his feet and chased O'Malley out. As she picked herself up, and helped Mandy to her feet, she could hear the sound of gunfire out in the street.

"Are you all right?" she asked, turning to the younger girl.

"My arm…" Mandy held out her arm and Emma Jane saw blood pouring from a cut.

"We'd best get you over to Doctor Mike's," Emma Jane said. She grabbed a bar cloth, "Here, wrap this around it." She propelled Mandy to the door, in time to meet Hank coming back in. He blanched when he saw her.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she replied.

"Yer eye…" he reached out to touch her, but she moved out of the way.

"I have to get Mandy over to Doctor Mike's." She pushed past him and led Mandy across the street to the clinic. Banging on the door, she waited, until Colleen opened it. "Colleen, is Doctor Mike here?" she asked, "It's Mandy."

"No, she ain't," Colleen replied, "What happened?"

"One of my customers cut my arm," Mandy said, showing it to her, "It really hurts."

"Come inside, and I'll take a look," Colleen ushered them inside. Emma Jane paced around nervously. She watched as Colleen tended to the wound, and Mandy winced in pain. "Sorry." She looked over at Emma Jane, "Do you want me to take a look at your eye?"

"No, no I'm fine, just look after Mandy." At that moment, Michaela came into the clinic

"What happened?" she asked, rushing forward.

"Mandy got cut by a client," Emma Jane said, her voice shaking.

Michaela examined the wound, "It'll need stitching." She turned to Emma Jane, "Colleen, get some ice for Emma Jane's eye."

"I'm all right, really," she protested, but the cold compress felt good on her stinging face.

"I should have been here," Michaela murmured to herself, "I should have been here."

Emma Jane was starting to feel slightly sick from the heat inside the clinic, so she opened the door to go and sit outside and came face to face with Hank.

"Ya all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied curtly, "Did you let O'Malley go with Mandy?"

He had the good grace to look ashamed, "Needed the money."

"I am sick to death of hearing that from you!" she shouted at him, "You can't excuse everything by saying we need the money! Mandy could have been killed!"

"She weren't."

"But she could have been," she insisted, "but I suppose that would have been all right as long as he had paid first!" With that, she threw the ice pack down on the ground and stormed past him back over to the saloon.

SSSS

Two days later, the Reverend came out of the church and addressed the assembled crowd who had gathered to vote. "I have the results of the vote. Jake Slicker, 130, Doctor Michaela Quinn, 98."

Emma Jane saw Michaela's face fall as the result was read out and turned to look at all the men who were rejoicing and congratulating Jake. She caught Hank's eye and he smiled at her. Grudgingly, she returned it.

Jake made his way onto the steps and addressed the crowd, "I wanna thank you all for coming out and voting for me today, and I promise to make good on all of my campaign pledges." He looked over at Dorothy who appeared to be gesturing to him, "And the first thing I'm gonna do is fix so that everyone can have the vote, whether they own property or not."

"Including women?" Horace called out.

"Yeah, including women."

Emma Jane's mouth dropped open and she looked over at Michaela, who was grinning broadly. Then she glanced at Hank again who looked less than impressed. She walked over to him, "So, Jake won."

"Yeah," he replied, "and ya got the vote."

"A good result all round then."

He reached out and pushed a lock of hair away from her face, "How's yer eye?"

"Fine," she replied.

"Bout Mandy…" he began.

"Let's not," she held up her hand, "She's fine and that's the main thing." She sighed, "but I wish you would tell me what's wrong." There was a silence, then he turned and walked away from her. Emma Jane shook her head in frustration at his retreating figure and then turned back to where Michaela was walking towards her. "I'm pleased for you," she told her, smiling.

"Why? I lost," Michaela reminded her.

"Yes, but we've got the vote!" Emma Jane replied, "Think of how much good we can do with it."

"I suppose you're right. Hank's face was a picture, as were most of the other men in town."

Emma Jane made a face, "They'll just have to get over it." They linked arms as they began walking across the grass, "Did you do some kind of deal with Jake?"

"Yes," Michaela admitted, "I promised that if I won I wouldn't close the saloon or stop the entertaining."

"And Jake?"

"He promised to let women have the vote. It was the lesser of two evils to agree."

"I suppose you'll be working to outlaw prostitution now then."

Michaela stopped to face her, "I wouldn't do anything to put your livelihood at risk, Emma Jane, but…"

"I know, and I agree," she reassured her, "I don't like it any more than you do, but perhaps a gradual change might be best."

"Absolutely."

Emma Jane gestured to the saloon. "I'm guessing I can't tempt you to come in for a celebratory drink?"

Michaela looked momentarily thrown, "Oh…no, thank you, I…"

"I'm kidding," Emma Jane laughed, "God forbid the good Doctor Quinn give up her last vestige of dignity."

As they laughed, the door of the saloon burst open and Hank came hurrying out. "Emma Jane," he took her arm, "Gotta talk to ya."

"I was just congratulating Michaela, despite her loss."

"I'm sure you're very pleased that your wife now has the vote, Hank," Michaela said.

"Don't got time fer this," he grabbed Emma Jane roughly and pulled her away from Michaela and into the empty saloon.

"Hank!" she protested, struggling under his grip, "What on earth…"

"I need to talk to ya."

"And manhandling me into the saloon is…"

"Please!" he shouted at her, "please, just shut up and listen." Emma Jane was stunned into silence. "I gotta tell ya…" he stopped and walked away from her, "I gotta tell ya…"

"Tell me what?" her breath caught in her throat at the prospect of finally finding out what had been bothering him, "what is it?"

"It's about this place."

"The saloon?" This wasn't what she expected. "What about it?"

Hank poured himself a whiskey, "Want one?" he held out the bottle. She shook her head, "Figures. Yer a lady after all."

Emma Jane didn't rise to the bait. She didn't want to get into yet another debate about their mismatch. "What about this place?"

"'Member when I came to New York to git ya?"

She smiled, "How could I forget?"

"When…I got to Denver, I went to the bank. The Denver City Bank." He looked down at the ground, "I took out a loan, to cover expenses." He looked back up again.

"And?"

"And…I took it out against the saloon."

At first, his words meant nothing to her, but then as she thought back to the many conversations she had listened to her father and Thomas engaging in, the meaning of his words became clear. "You put the saloon up as collateral." He nodded, "So, what's the problem?"

"Haven't…haven't made the repayments," he mumbled.

"What? Why not?"

"Don't have the money, Emma Jane," he looked at her fiercely, "don't ya see that? Haven't had enough to cover what the bank charges, plus all that damn interest…" he ran a hand through his hair. "Why do ya think I've been…? Man from the bank came around the other day."

Emma Jane knew in her heart what that meant, but she asked the question anyway, "What did he want?" she asked.

"Said if we don't pay what we owe by the end of next week..."

"Then the bank will take the saloon."

He looked up at her, "How did ya know?"

"I grew up in a banking family, Hank. These kinds of situations were commonplace." She didn't add that she had never expected it to happen to her own family. She sat down heavily at one of the tables, "How much do we owe?" He handed her a scrap of paper and she scanned it quickly, "Oh my God."

"Don't reckon he's listenin'"

"Well, we have to raise the money."

"How exactly do ya propose we do that?"

She sighed heavily, "I don't know, increase prices I suppose, try and get more customers in…" she chewed her lip, "I could wire my father…"

"No! No way!"

"Hank…"

"Ain't gettin' yer folks involved. Ain't gonna take their charity."

"They're family, Hank, and I know that all they'd want to do is help us."

"And have yer father and yer brother look down their noses at me more than they already do? Not to mention yer mother."

"My father and Thomas aren't like that, as well you know. And as for Mother…"

"I said, no, Emma Jane. Swear on my life if ya contact them I'll…"

"You'll what?" she glared at him, "Beat me within an inch of my life? For God's sake, Hank, this isn't the time for petty squabbles. If what you're saying is true, we could be out on the streets next week, and not just us, but our children too, have you thought about them?"

"Course I have! You and them children are all I've ever thought about! Ya think I haven't?"

"No, of course not," she said, "but we need to do something, and quickly. Banks don't hang around when it comes to foreclosures. That I do know."

"If ya got any bright ideas, now might be the time to air 'em."

At that moment, a wail from upstairs filled the air. "It's Will," Emma Jane, "he must be hungry." She made to go to the stairs, but Hank grabbed her arm again.

"What we gonna do?" he asked her, and she could see that he looked desperate.

"Right now?" she shook her head, "I really don't know."