A.N - Haha, I've just realised that this story is getting less and less historical with the modern terms and situations i've been putting in. I'm sorry guys, I just think they all fit, in a strange way.

I'm sorry for the delay, but that seems to be all I ever say when I update this fic. Thank you all so much if you're stil reading - and for the fact that this won Best Historical in the Simon Says: It's Award Time awards (all winners - and runners up - and their cool awards, courtesy of Millie with help from Stark Raving Lolly, I am led to believe, are up on the website). So yeah, thank you all. :)

Chapter Seven

She wouldn't let me carry her home - a decision with which I strongly disagreed. Instead, she insisted on being taken to the nearby beach claiming she hadn't had chance since being here to simply sit back and watch the tide roll in and out.

Susannah had looked up at me, innocent eyes wide open in trepidation and insistence, and I was unable to deny her request. Instead, I cradled her in my arms, clutching her tightly to my chest, as I walked slowly towards the stretch of sand that greeted us, forcing myself not to look at the reddened skin upon her cheek.

"Jesse," I heard her soft, melodic whisper carry towards me. The sound had me closing my eyes in order to absorb her tone. "Thank you for doing this for me."

I sat down against a nearby wall, never once loosening my hold as I turned her upturned face towards me.

"What kind of sheriff would I be if I didn't?" I asked with a smile, putting my personal feelings to one side for the moment and remaining with my business front. I needed to find out what she intended to do with her relationship with Paul before I go announcing my desire to court her. "Besides, I couldn't not help you. I hate to see a man hit a woman. I hate to see a woman cry."

Susannah scoffed.

"I don't recall myself crying, Sheriff De Silva." She reminded me.

"No," I agreed with an easy smile. But you were awfully close.

The words hung, unspoken, between us. The silence broken only by the soft crash of the waves further away

"I don't know what I'm going to tell my brothers," she finally began before pausing and scrunching her nose adorably. "Or Andy, for that matter."

"Why don't you tell them the truth?" I suggested.

She glanced at me in horror before pushing herself out of my grasp. I lamented the loss immediately.

"They can't know, Jesse." She kneeled in front of me, her soft arms resting on my shoulders as her eyes pleaded with my own. "If they knew, that Paul …"

As she trailed off, Susannah dropped her head allowing a few chestnut curls to fall forward and hang tauntingly in front of my face. It was as I had raised my hand to brush away the tendril that a soft splash fell onto my outstretched palm. I looked at my hand in amazement and horror, refusing to believe that Paul Slater had made this beautiful woman cry.

My hand changed its course of direction, now resting below her chin and lifting her gaze gently to mine.

I peered into her eyes for a sign of that tear being the first of many, only to find them steel hard with determination - not a tear in sight.

"They just can't know Jesse," she whispered roughly. "Promise me that you won't tell them, or anybody else."

"What will you tell them instead?" I sighed in defeat.

"I'm not sure yet," she smiled at me reassuringly. "I'll figure something out. Just … promise?"

I stared into her eyes for a solid minute, judging her sincerity and hoping to find a reason for this lie. Upon finding none, only having been lost in her emerald depths, I nodded anyway.

"Yes, querida," the epithet slipped out unconsciously. "I promise."

Her face broke out into a wide grin as she leaned forward almost conspiratorially and pressed her soft, ruby lips to my cheek.

My eyes fell shut at the feel of her and her whispered 'thanks' almost went unheard as I focused only on her lips, and the fact that she hadn't kept them there longer.

They opened again with a sigh that escaped my mouth and I stood up, brushing off sand that had stuck to my clothing before helping Susannah up also.

Her fabric-covered arms warmed beneath my hands as I held her at a respectable distance away from me - although nothing about being out alone late at night with a, begrudgingly admitted, taken woman was respectable.

"I should get you home." I told her regretfully, not wanting this night to end.

Briefly - and most probably in my imagination - I saw sadness flicker across her face also, almost as if the thought of leaving me pained her as much as it did me.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly. "I guess so."

It was in silence that we began, and ended, the journey to the Ackerman household.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The following day I heard no news of Susannah's injury, implying that the Ackerman's - and Paul - had decided to keep the whole event silent.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for my cousin dearest. From what I had heard, she had refused to publicly show herself today thus far, and, according to my father, it was also now perfectly acceptable to break off our engagement now, due to the fact that she had shamed herself and her immediate family. My family remained unscathed as I was seen as the wronged party in the whole sordid affair.

And so, it was with a hidden smile on my otherwise serious face that I left my cousin's household that afternoon, hand clutching my madre's engagement ring in my hand, feeling the itch to find Susannah and give it to her instead…

I shook myself, fighting the urge to slap myself. A more unacceptable thought had never crossed my mind!

Slipping the ring into my pocket, I changed my direction from home to the sheriff's office and picked up my badge. I had some official business that needed taking care of.

Namely, Paul Slater and Felix Diego's illegal cat house, which now had proof of existence and could be shut down as a result of this. Susannah would no longer have to deal with the thought of women willingly giving themselves to men just down the corridor from her - I could barely think about it and I had only spent a few nights in that fated saloon.

As I entered said saloon, Paul was standing behind the bar sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he cleaned the glasses that had been used the night before. I drew myself up to my full height and took a deep breath before walking in to the room to be soon.

"Jesse!" Paul exclaimed in tentative surprise. "What can I do for you? It's a bit early for alcohol, don't you think?"

"I'm here on Sheriff duty." I informed him, taking little pleasure in the way his face immediately fell. "I'm afraid I have to shut down your … business."

Paul's blue eyes were icy and practically malicious in their stare.

"Pardon?"

His voice, though seemingly polite in his words, was just as cold.

"Your cat house," I spoke just as cool and professionally. "It can't run anymore."

"And why not?"

"You never obtained the correct plans to go about running it" I countered quickly. "Effectively making the cat house you are running now, illegal. Your saloon is safe, however."

"De Silva, this better be your form of a sick joke," Paul threatened. "You cannot close down my business."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Your business?" I replied smoothly. "And what about your partner … Felix Diego?"

The colour escaped from Paul's cheeks quickly, leaving him pale as he realised what he'd let me know.

In spite of my cool appearance, I could hardly believe that he'd told me that information myself. From the beginning I'd thought that it had been Felix Diego behind the shadier prospects of the duo's business.

Paul Slater suddenly became less worthy of Susannah's protection and love.

I turned my back on the pale, speechless man and began to walk out of the swinging doors once again.

"Is this because of Maria?" It seems Paul Slater had re-found his voice.

I remained silent, walking forward.

"Look, I'm sorry she got involved in it all." He paused and I glanced over my shoulder to see what had made him do so. His lips were twisted into a sly smirk. "Well, I'm not, really."

The suggestion of what they'd done made my blood boil. But not in anger or jealousy for myself, never for me. For Susannah. How could a man like Paul Slater possibly take for granted the love he'd found in her?

My fists clenched by my side.

"Touch a nerve did I?" Paul asked almost gleefully. "Tell you what, I'll fire Maria, just let me keep open my cat house."

I turned to stare at him with distaste.

"Keep Maria," I told him. "The cat house is gone."

I was at the door when his next words hit me, and I cursed his inability to just accept his fate.

"Don't make me hit you, De Silva."

I smirked.

"I wouldn't if I was you, Slater," I responded with equal detachment before going on to unwittingly repeat my words from the night before. "I can't start a fight, but I can defend myself."

I was gone the next moment, away from the cat house, the saloon and Paul Slater, missing his next words of disbelief.

"It was you."