Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. Larry McMurtry, Rysher entertainment, and probably a lot more people I've forgotten do. I'm just borrowing them for my own entertainment and will return them when through. Gray Fox and Jesse Calder, though, are MY creations and I'd like to be told if you plan to use them. I'll probably say yes anyway.

Author's note: This is an AU story, based on the Lonesome Dove Saga by Larry McMurtry. AU means that some of the faces, features, and facts might have been altered. If there are any questions, send them through my profile and I'll try to answer them quickly.

Author's note #2: I know I've been neglecting my other stuff, and I PROMISE to work on them when I can, but this took hold and wouldn't let go.

Author's note #3: Reviews are like food and water to me. If you read, won't you please review?

Part Two

That was something he was still pondering when he called a halt for the night. For all she'd fought like the very devil, she hadn't tried to kill him. She'd had a good chance, jumping off the ridge like that, especially if she'd used that knife she had tucked into her boot. It was a contradiction, Gus would have said.

He had to give a tiny smile as he left her sitting on her horse while he set up a small camp. The only reason Gus wasn't along talking his ear off was that the other man had taken a nasty fall and broke his leg. Still, he missed the sound of his friend's voice, talking about everything and nothing at all until Call was ready to shoot him if he didn't shut up already.

The girl hadn't said two words to him all afternoon, and that was just not normal for any woman he'd ever run into. Her face was set, though not with anger as it had been earlier. No, now it was more resigned, like she'd given up. He decided to watch her even more closely. She was tricky and he wouldn't put it past her to try and run.

He got a fire going and then went to her, looking up, his face impassive. "Get down. We're stopping here for the night and you'll need to rest. I want to be back in Austin quick."

She still said nothing as she slid down, though her knees buckled for a moment as they hit the ground. Being in the saddle all day hadn't been comfortable even for him, so he took a little pity on her. He'd cut the ropes on her hands before he'd given it full thought and turned his back on her. "If you run, I'll shoot you," he said simply.

She flapped her hands a bit to get the feeling back in them and started to walk behind the tree line, out of his sight. She heard the gun click behind her and turned, her face flaming. "I'm not gonna run," she snapped. "I'm just – I need to -" She couldn't say it.

Call's own face got a little red and he nodded. "Five minutes," he replied as he set about brewing coffee and getting some of the jerky from his saddlebags. He told himself he was being an idiot and that he should have gone with her, should have kept an eye on her. Just because she hadn't killed him, he shouldn't give her a chance to run. He shouldn't -

She came back silently and lowered herself to her own bedroll, her face a study in sorrow and resignation. "I told you I wouldn't run," she said softly. She rolled onto her stomach, giving her abused rump a bit of a rest, and put her head on her arms to watch the fire.

Call nodded simply. She was a contradiction in a lot of ways. Why would she have turned loose an enemy? She was a scout, she knew what they were capable of, what kind of horrors they'd inflicted on innocent people. It just didn't make sense. But instead of asking her, he just handed a piece of jerky and a cup of coffee across to her. "We'll be moving out early, about dawn. You should sleep if you can."

Jesse nodded as she chewed the tough meat, and then washed it down with the coffee. He was at least being decent to her, now. She just didn't understand what the difference was. She'd been giving him the silent treatment all afternoon, and he hadn't said anything either. It had been a very strained ride.

She shrugged mentally and lay down again, watching the fire and thinking. Could she have done things differently? No, she finally decided. Gray Fox had saved her from death, and that meant she owed him the same. She couldn't have left him there. It was a point of honor for her, an obligation that had to be repaid.

Her thoughts slipped backward again, remembering that day vividly. The terror she'd felt when she realized the Comanches had stopped the wagons, when she'd realized what they were after. Comanche men had moved among the wagons, taking what women and goods pleased them, and they were coming toward her.

She'd dropped to the ground to run, to grab a horse and run away, but they were too fast for her. They had been on her before she'd gotten three steps, taking her to the ground and holding her there, studying her, and then whooping with delight as they dragged her by the hair to their horses and throwing her astride.

The men had kept her tied in the center of their little camp for days without food and water, thinking it would tame her. It hadn't. Every time one of them came close, she fought. She fought tooth and nail because she knew that when she quit fighting, she would cease to be of amusement to them and they would kill her.

That was when Gray Fox had saved her.

Thirst and hunger had taken their toll. She hadn't the strength to fight back any longer and the men were able to take what they wanted without much struggle. They'd been discussing her over the fire that night as she sobbed brokenly against the post. They'd been trying to decide when to kill her, and how. Gray Fox had moved close behind her and warned her not to speak. He'd promised to come back after they were asleep with water and food for her, and told her that he didn't agree with what his brothers had done. He would help her to get free.

She hadn't believed him, of course. So when he had reappeared just before the moon set, with a skin full of water and a pouch of dried meat, she'd nearly died of fright. But she accepted it gratefully and let him help her, let him lead her to one of the horses that had been stolen from her train, let him place her gently on it and she had put her smaller hand on his for a moment. "Thank you for my life," she said softly. "I'll repay it someday. I promise." And then she had gone.

She came back to herself with a start to find Call watching her across the fire. No, she decided silently. She'd have done nothing differently. She knew he'd taken abuse and pain for letting her go. She could do no less. If they hung her, then that was what happened. A life for a life, it said in the Bible. He'd put his life on the line for hers, she could do no less.

Call had been watching her face, watching her track through what seemed to be some pretty bad memories. He watched her, still silent, as she appeared to come to some sort of decision.

She wouldn't run, not now. He didn't know how he knew it, but he was a good enough judge to know. He simply nodded at her, pulled his hat low over his face, and laid down on his bedroll. Dawn would come early and he wanted to make some time.