Nice ones, KTG. They sound strangely familiar to me.

Murdoch had been waiting in town for about two hours for Samuel Stockton to arrive. Though he was a patient enough man, he didn't care for having idle hands, especially when his mind was not agreeably occupied. So he decided to go to the barracks to see if the NWMP needed his assistance in any local matters that might have cropped up over night.

"Some Red skins got a little too close to crossing into our territory. The night patrol sorted that out already though. So no," Brackenreid said with a smile, leaning back in his chair and placing his feet on the table, "there's nothing to do but have a smoke."

"I see," he said, shoulders slumping.

After retrieving his pipe and tobacco from across the table, Brackenreid squinted at him briefly. "You all right there, Murdoch? You look like you could use a nip or two. Or whatever it is you teetotaller types use to lift your spirits."

Murdoch didn't respond, but he also didn't make an excuse to leave.

"Come on then, man," Brackenreid said, tamping down the tobacco, "out with it."

He nodded once. "Tensions have been running high at The Ogden ranch. The sisters have not been getting along very well lately. I fear my presence has upset the natural order of things. Most assuredly I have been cast out from my lodgings there."

The Colonel shrugged and lit a match. He puffed on the pipe a few times till it started to smoke. "If that's all that's troubling you, Murdoch, you can just stay here. We've got more than enough bunks to go around." He smirked. "And there's always the cells of course. You could keep young Hobbins company if you'd like."

"I believe it was Higgins, Colonel."

Brackenreid released an impressive sized smoke ring and said, "In any case, I get the sense that you're not being fully forthcoming with me. A man like you would be used to roughing it. Something else is bothering you." The Colonel jabbed the pipe at him. "Don't deny it."

Clearly he wished to talk about this matter or he would not have divulged what he did. But his sense of propriety held him back and he awkwardly stood there avoiding the commanders piercing gaze.

"Oh is that what this is all about?" Brackenreid chuckled. "You old dog!" His eyes were twinkling in delight. "Which one was it?"

"Colonel?" he said, taken aback.

"Which sister did you make the beast with two backs with?"

Murdoch cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I would rather not say."

"My money's on the eldest Ogden."

Murdoch's head whipped up, all but confirming this guess. "How did you know?"

"I may be getting on in years but my mind is still first rate," he said, tapping the side of his head with the bowl of the pipe. An ash smudge left its mark but Murdoch chose not to mention this. Brackenreid grinned, "Besides, it is common knowledge that the younger Miss Ogden has been carrying on with Crabtree." He made a face. "Bugger if I know what she sees in that jabbering monkey." He looked back to Murdoch, amused again. "I must say, Murdoch, I'm impressed with your quick work. Good on you, mate. She's a fine looking strumpet."

"Colonel, I must ask you to refrain from such names," he replied with a glare. "Julia is anything but."

"Ah, so there's the rub," Brackenreid said, nodding sagely. "I thought so." Smiling in an annoying know-it-all manner, "You're sweet on her, aren't you? That's why you're so down in the dumps at her tossing you out."

Technically she hadn't done so, he hadn't given her the chance. But very likely she would once he returned. If he returned. As to him being sweet on her...was it possible after so little time? Obviously he was very attracted to her or last night wouldn't have happened. Had that brief encounter already blossomed into feelings that transcended the flesh?

"You may be correct in your assessment."

"Course I am," Brackenreid said, taking a nice long pull. "Listen, Murdoch, women are anything but simple. Trust me I know. I've been married for six years. If you want to right the ship, as it were, you'll just have to put aside your pride and go talk to her. There's no two ways about it. Women love to go on and on about their feelings. The good news is that you don't have to pay much attention to such claptrap. Just nod here and there and then afterwards agree with whatever it is they ask of you. Works every time."

Once more Murdoch marvelled at the fact that this man had somehow secured someone's hand in marriage. Then again, it was more than he himself had ever come close to achieving...so perhaps the colonel was on to something? At any rate, whether or not he took Brackenreid's advice to heart, he would indeed need to speak with Julia. And soon. If he left things unspoken until after he returned from securing the fugitives, the situation could be considerably worse.

With that thought in mind, he decided to bite the bullet and get it over with now. Little did he know he would encounter her even sooner than expected. For as he headed through town, there she was coming towards him. His heart fluttered at the prospect that she too had desired to speak with him. So consumed with this notion was he, that he didn't notice the boy sitting in front of her until he was much closer. Simon appeared to have injured himself and someone had constructed a crude sling to transport him into town. Clearly the horse breaking in did not go as smoothly as it could have.

When she saw him, she pretended as though she hadn't and led her stallion right passed him. He turned his horse around and came up beside her, keeping her slow pace, so as not to jostle the boys arm.

"Do you require assistance?"

"Does it look like I do?" she returned sharply, not making eye contact.

He changed tactics. "Hello, Simon. I take it the Bronc did not cooperate this morning."

The boy scrunched up his tear streaked face. "I was so close, mister. So close. If I could've held on just a little longer..." He snuffled a little more. "I would've had him."

"I am sure you will do better on your next attempt."

The boy smiled weakly and Murdoch saw that a tooth was missing. "You think so mister?"

"I see no reason why not. You will only get stronger from here on out."

"Don't encourage him," grumbled Julia. "He won't be doing that ever again. It was foolish of me to agree to such a thing in the first place."

"You don't mean that, Miss Julia," said the boy mournfully. "You'll let me try again, soon as I'm all healed up. Won't you now?"

"No, I most certainly will not."

The boy looked to him, and Murdoch looked helplessly back. This was not his battle to be won.

Julia stopped outside of the small cabin that served as the doctor's office. She got off her horse and then lifted Simon down, once again refusing Murdoch's help.

Murdoch watched from his horse as the tall, dark haired man ushered them in. The doctor looked over at him.

"Mr. Murdoch," he greeted.

With a touch to his hat brim, "Dr. Garland."

"Never a dull moment where our Julia is concerned, is there?"

He glanced at her through the window. She had her back turned to him. "That does appear to be the case."

"Well, I best be tending to young Simon now."

"Yes, by all means."

For whatever reason, Murdoch decided to stay there and keep watch over the proceedings inside. He watched as Darcy examined the boys arm and face and then proceeded to pull out the necessary supplies to make a plaster of Paris cast. He watched as Julia assisted him, and noted how well they worked together, seamlessly, like a well oiled engine. He watched as Darcy brushed his hand against hers on more than one occasion, rather unnecessarily he thought. And finally he watched as Darcy ruffled the boys hair and then was hugged by Julia. Both of them. The hug she gave to Darcy seemed to be a very lingering and close one and without a corset the man would be feeling everything she had to offer, perhaps already had in a more intimate setting, on multiple occasions for all he knew, and suddenly Murdoch couldn't take the sight of them any longer and took his leave.

Shortly after this he realized that Jimmy was waving at him from over by the livery, trying to get his attention. Instantly Murdoch compartmentalized his emotions and went into detective mode. If this was what he thought it was about, he needed to be mentally present from here on out.

He trotted over there. "Mr. Murdoch, Sam's just come in." Jimmy gestured inside the livery to where a weather beaten carriage resided and a tottering older man, attempting to unleash the horses. Jimmy took a step closer and spoke more softly. "Just between you and me, sir, when he smells that strongly of rum, he's not the most accommodating of men. You may have trouble getting a straight answer out of him."

It wouldn't be the first time he had interviewed a booze hound. A firmer hand than usual might need to be employed, and considering Julia's less than favourable account of him, Murdoch would not be averse to such a scheme.

Murdoch nodded that he understood and descended his horse. Without being asked, or perhaps out of habit, Jimmy took the reins from him and led the beast over to the watering hole.

Murdoch entered the stuffy, smelly enclosure, sidestepping the recently deposited droppings from one of the new arrivals. Stockton was coming out of a stall, holding on to the sides as if he were about to pass out. Since Murdoch was in no mood to wait any longer to speak with the driver, he quickly got his attention.

"Mr. Stockton," he said, holding out his hand. The grey haired man stared at it like he had never seen such a gesture before in his life. Then slowly, very slowly, he took a hold of it. Murdoch did his best not to cringe at the clammy nature of his palm and afterwards resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his trousers. "Good day, sir, my name is William Murdoch and I have some questions to ask of you."

"What sort of questions?" There was an obvious slur to his accented voice. His breath reeked so strongly of alcohol that Murdoch had to take a step back. In fact, if they were to relocate to a more ventilated location, matters would be considerably improved. Unfortunately, Murdoch was certain if they tried to move that far, he would topple over, and Murdoch had no desire to touch the man further than he already had.

"My employers, The Pinkertons,"- the man's eyes narrowed, "have assigned me the task of locating and apprehending two fugitives." He pulled out the wanted poster and the man's eyes glazed over as he studied it, or didn't. "It is my understanding that you were the last person in town to directly deal with Mr. Perry and Mr. Gillies."

Stockton looked up at him uncomprehending and shoved the poster out of his face. This caused him to stagger but he managed to right himself with the aid of the stable door. "I don't know what you're going on about boy, but I've never seen those two toffs in my life!"

"They were disguised as husband and wife, going by the name of Johnson. Does that ring any bells, sir?"

"Can't say that it does," he said after a lengthy, suspicious pause.

"Come now, sir, the livery records indicate that you were the driver assigned to them on the twenty-fourth of August."

"All right, so I did my bleeding job!" Stockton tossed up his hands and this time he did fall over. Murdoch did not help him up. "What of it?"

"Now, this is very important Mr. Stockton, so listen carefully. Where did you take them?"

Stockton pushed himself into a sitting position. "Where they asked me to of course!"

"And where was that?"

"Don't you already know?" he said with a dismissive scowl. "The records would say."

"Yes, they intimate Lethbridge. But your less than forthcoming attitude has left me under the very strong impression that you did not in fact take them there."

"Well, I can't say nothing but that your impressions are worth horse shit! I took them to Lethbridge and that's all there's to say about that!"

"How much did they pay you to spin that tale?"

"Tale?! You're off your bleeding rocker you are!"

Murdoch smiled grimly and hoisted the man to his feet. Stockton's putrid breath was making his eyes water so he said what he had to say as succinctly as possible.

"If you lie to me again, sir, you will soon make the acquaintance of my fist."

He pushed him into the stall wall none too gently and Stockton fell over once more, glaring up at him. There was however, a hint of something approaching fear there as well. Perhaps the roughhousing had sobered him up enough to stop being a horses arse?

"One more time, Mr. Stockton," he said, looming over the elderly man in as menacing a manner as he could, "where did you take them?"

Stockton swallowed hard. "Red Deer. I took them to Red Deer."

"Thank you, sir." He walked a few paces away and then thought better of it and came straight back, pulling him to his feet again. This had not been done out of kindness. "If you ever lay another unwanted hand on Miss Ogden again, you will meet more than just my fist."

To reinforce this message, he punched him out, taking far too much pleasure in the exploit. Jimmy gaped at him as he exited the livery.

"Thank you for looking after my horse, Jimmy."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Murdoch, sir!"

I took far too much pleasure in that as well. Don't care if he turned into a nice, clueless man this season. He was and always will be a gigantic arse in my mind.