Chuck vs the Wildcat

by dettiot

It's the 1870s in the American Southwest. Charles "Chuck" Bartowski, after avenging the death of his sister, falls in with gunslinger John Casey. There's a range war in El Dorado, and Chuck finds himself on one side of the war. And on that side is a woman named Sarah Walker.

4. Chapter 4: Ride, Boldly Ride

Title: Chuck vs. the Wildcat 4/?

Author: dettiot

Rating: T

Summary: It's the 1870s in the American Southwest. Charles "Chuck" Bartowski, after avenging the death of his sister, has fallen in with gunslinger John Casey. There's a range war in El Dorado, and Chuck finds himself on one side of the war. And on that side is a woman named Sarah Walker.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or ElDorado. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Note: My apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out-finishing up Discovering Omaha and some real-life problems threw a kink in my writing. But I think I'm back on track now, so enjoy!

XXX

Chapter Four: Ride, Boldly Ride

XXX

There was a new tension among everyone in the jail that night, Chuck thought. It was understandable: the U.S. Marshal was due to arrive in the morning, and Beckman had been taking care of the paperwork she'd need to make the case against Shaw. Add the escalating stress from being cooped up in the jail, and Chuck did all he could to stay in the background. He wasn't about to set off Casey or Beckman, since both of them like hair triggers right now: the slightest pressure and they'd explode.

For lack of anything better, he was reading one of Morgan's penny dreadfuls when the knock came at the door. A soft voice spoke in Spanish, and Morgan got up and cracked the door.

Chuck saw a young Mexican boy, no more than ten or eleven. Morgan said something to the boy, who replied anxiously. He tugged on Morgan's arm in the universal "come on" gesture, then turned and ran away.

"What'd he say, Grimes?" Beckman asked, her voice full of concern.

"He works on Shaw's ranch," Morgan said quietly. "And he said they're being attacked."

Morgan must not have kept his voice low enough, because Shaw called out, "Well done, Sheriff. You locked me up, only to leave my property defenseless! At this very moment, my cattle are getting rustled, my people being hurt!" Chuck might have been convinced that Shaw was worried, if his voice wasn't so emotionless.

"Can the waterworks, Shaw," Beckman snapped. "Grimes, guard the prisoner. Casey, you and what's-his-name, come with me."

Chuck assumed he was "what's-his-name," so he grabbed his hat and his gunbelt, fumbling to fasten the belt as he followed the sheriff and Casey to the stables.

"Knew that damn fool Walker wouldn't leave well enough alone," Beckman was saying when he caught up. "No, he had to strike back, had to prove he was a big man." She spit on the ground, then threw open the door of the stable and started saddling her horse.

Casey grunted and dropped his saddle on the back of his horse. "Man felt like he hadta get some of his own back. Stupid, but easy to get. What's the plan?"

"Me and the kid find Jack Walker, and if I don't shoot 'im, we'll get him to stand down," Beckman said. "You find a good position an' keep things from gettin' worse."

"How?" Chuck asked, working the buckles on his saddle as quickly as he could.

"By shootin' people," Casey said.

"Only if absolutely necessary," Beckman said. "Go for warning shots first."

Casey grumbled. "Ain't no fun to warn 'em first."

Chuck felt his gut twist with nerves. It was one thing when he was going after Ellie's killers; he always approached them one on one, making it a fair fight. But this-it was a gun battle, with no rules. And despite his practicing, he still couldn't aim worth a damn, in Casey's words.

"C'mon, Bartowski," Casey said, swinging up into the saddle. "Get moving."

"Um . . . um, yes," Chuck said. He swallowed and mounted his horse, setting Newton at a fast trot after Beckman and Casey. He didn't think he was going to be much use in this fight, but he had to try. He couldn't leave the sheriff defenseless when she tried to end the latest battle in the war between Daniel Shaw and Jack Walker.

XXX

As they approached Shaw's homestead, the sound of scattered gunshots and yells became louder. Chuck had to keep urging Newton on, because his horse sensed his tension and kept slowing down. On a ridge that overlooked the house, Beckman reined her horse. She turned to Casey and pointed. "Ride along towards the west, to that high point in the ridge. It'll give you cover."

Casey nodded and spurred his horse on, galloping off. The sheriff turned to Chuck. "Okay, kid," she said. "We're gonna ride towards the front of the house and call out the two sides. Cover me."

With clammy hands, Chuck drew his shotgun. He nodded to Beckman and she started riding, her own gun out and firing an occasional shot in the air.

Chuck kept his eyes on Beckman, gripping his gun tightly. He had a sinking feeling that he was gonna screw this up. As he followed her, he tried to remember everything Casey had told him about shooting.

"Jack Walker! Come outta your hole and end this!" Beckman hollered, drawing up in front of the house and wheeling her horse around to face the landscape. She fired her gun twice in the air. "Hold your fire, everyone!" She looked towards the house. "Ty Bennett! Hold your fire and get out here!"

Drawing his horse up behind the sheriff, Chuck held tight to the reins with one hand. Newton danced a little and Chuck leaned forward, speaking softly to him. "Easy, boy."

It was advice he should take, too, Chuck thought as he watched Beckman.

"Walker! Jack Walker!" she yelled. "You show your face, or I wash my hands of this whole mess!"

Within a few moments, Chuck spied two horses riding towards them. One rider had his hand in the air, while the second man had a rifle pointing towards them. Meanwhile, Ty Bennett and another man stepped out of the house and walked towards Beckman and Chuck, carrying guns in each hand. Chuck swallowed and lifted his gun a little.

The riders drew up about ten feet away, while Ty Bennett and his man stood an equal distance away, forming the third point of a triangle. "Sheriff," Jack Walker said, his voice silky. Ty Bennett stayed silent but nodded to Beckman.

"Bennett. Jack, Adam," Beckman said, acknowledging both sides before turning to look at the Walkers. "You wanna explain why you're attackin' Shaw's holdings when I've got him locked up for shootin' your kin?"

"Sheriff, we saw signs that Mr. Bennett's been followin' his boss's orders even in his absence," Mr. Walker said. "Believe my girl rode in and told you that."

"She did," Beckman said, shifting a bit in the saddle. "And I told her for all of you to hold position an' not do anything stupid." She arched an eyebrow. "Never got the sense that Sarah Walker didn't tell her daddy everythin'. So what part of 'don't do anything' was so hard to understand?"

"Now, Sheriff, no need to get sarcastic," Jack Walker said with a chuckle.

Chuck could see Beckman grit her teeth, even in the dim light of the cloud-covered moon. "I ain't anywhere near to sarcastic yet," she said, extra emphasis on the last word.

"If I might say something . . ." Ty Bennett said, not waiting for permission before continuing. "My men were simply guarding the perimeter of Mr. Shaw's lands."

"Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining, Bennett," Beckman retorted. "And that goes for you, too, Walker."

That was very . . . colorful, Chuck thought. All the men seemed struck dumb at the sheriff's way with words, and she continued talking.

"U.S. Marshal's due to arrive tomorrow. Pendin' his decision, I don't wanna hear a peep outta either side in this, you hear me? Bennett, you and your men will stand down and stop makin' any threatenin' moves. Walker, you and your bunch of hellions will go home an' stop causin' trouble. You boys get me?"

It was impressive, Chuck thought, how tiny little Diane Beckman made all these men listen to her.

But that was his last clear thought before gunshots split the air.

Chuck didn't know where the shots came from, but it seemed that both sides had started shooting at once. He looked around frantically, Newton trembling underneath him. Bennett and his man had run back towards the house for cover, while Mr. Walker and his son had galloped back towards the ridge. They were the only ones that were exposed, bullets flying all around them.

"Bartowski!" the sheriff shouted. "Cover me to the ridge!" She kicked her horse and took off.

She knew his name, Chuck thought distractedly as he started riding after her. The moon had come out, throwing more light over the landscape. Chuck swept his eyes around, feeling nervous as he urged Newton on. Suddenly, he saw light gleaming off the barrel of a rifle. A few yards from the ridge was a stand of scrub bushes, and there was a man using them for cover as he aimed for the sheriff. He had a clear shot-Chuck had to act. All of Casey's instructions ran through his mind as he raised his gun, aimed and fired. The recoil of the shotgun knocked him back in the saddle, and he drew his horse to a stop.

The man flopped over, clutching at his wound and crying out. But he wasn't the only one screaming.

XXX

Normally, Chuck would still be apologizing for accidentally shooting the sheriff. But she had ordered him to shut up or she'd give him something to be sorry about. So Chuck had shut up. The doctor had been sent for in order to examine the sheriff's thigh, which bore the clear signs of buckshot.

Doc Wood chuckled as he cleaned and bandaged the sheriff's wound. "Takin' up babysitting now, Sheriff?"

"Always expected to get shot by my deputy sometime," Beckman said. "My money was on Grimes, though."

Chuck winced and looked at Morgan, who nodded as if agreeing with the sheriff. Morgan looked at Chuck sympathetically. "She's not that mad," Morgan whispered.

"You should have heard her on the ride back here," Chuck said quietly.

"If she was that mad, she woulda shot you," Morgan said, seemingly to reassure Chuck. But his friend's words didn't soothe his guilt, and Chuck took a few steps back, moving further away from the sheriff and the doctor.

"Guess life is an always-surprising proposition," the doctor said, finishing his work. He stood up and stretched slightly, his back too hunched to allow him to straighten all the way. The elderly doctor looked at Casey, who was perched on the edge of the sheriff's desk.

"You still got that bullet in you, Casey?" At Casey's nod, Doc Wood frowned. "You haven't found some young doctor to fix you up?"

"Not so far," Casey said, shifting a little.

"Well, I'm expecting a new graduate of my alma mater to be coming here soon. He's gonna take over for me. So he could probably make it right."

"If I live through this, I'll take him up on it."

The doctor nodded. "Sheriff, I'll send over some crutches in the morning. Need anything for the pain?"

"For a few measly buckshot pellets?" Beckman snorted and waved off the doctor. "Grimes, escort the good doctor home-take him through the back."

"Yes, ma'am," Morgan said eagerly, taking the doctor by the arm and leading him to the back door of the jail.

Chuck took a deep breath, wondering if he was going to get a tongue-lashing. As bad as that would be, it couldn't match his guilt over catching the sheriff with his shot.

"Bartowski."

He looked up, then walked towards the sheriff. Beckman leaned back in her chair, her injured leg propped up on another chair. She looked at him for what felt like forever, but was probably no more than thirty seconds.

"You ain't very handy with that gun."

Chuck took another deep breath before he answered. "No, I'm not, Sheriff. I've been practicing, but . . . I just don't have the knack."

"No reason for you not to be good at shooting. You've got the coordination, since Casey told me how good you are with a knife." The sheriff looked at him, her eyes narrowed. "You're just scared for some reason. And until you figure that out, you won't ever be a good shot."

"Y-yes, Sheriff," he said, swallowing.

Beckman nodded. "You do some thinkin', see if you can't get over this. You don't seem a complete idiot, and I could use the help. Especially since word came in while we were gone that the Marshal isn't comin' for another few days."

"I do want to help! I really do, Sheriff," Chuck said quickly. "I like the look of El Dorado, and after so many years of moving around, I'd like to stay put here."

"Hmmmm," the sheriff said. She pushed herself up, and Chuck held himself back, not wanting to offend her by offering his help. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "Feel like six kinds of gross."

Casey grunted. "Gettin' shot will do that. Although you weren't smellin' fresh as a daisy before this."

"Neither were you," Beckman said, but there wasn't much fire in the insult.

"We're all a bit gamey," Chuck contributed.

The sheriff shot him a look but didn't respond. Instead, she looked over at Casey. "Mayhaps a bath will fix me up. You think you could send word over to Gertie, ask her to make that happen?"

Casey stood and put on his hat. "I'll ask her now. You get some rest."

"That was my plan, Casey, but thank goodness I've got you around to tell me these things," Beckman said, her voice sounding strained. She took a step, moving slowly and awkwardly with her bandaged leg, and Chuck gave up on waiting for her to ask for help. He stepped up behind her and supported her as she hobbled to bed.

It was a sign of her exhaustion that Beckman didn't say anything and just let him help her to the cot she used in the back corner of the jail's anteroom. Chuck eased her down onto the cot, then stood back. "You need anything else, Sheriff?"

She shook her head and dragged a blanket over her. "Go to sleep, Bartowski."

Chuck nodded and stepped out of the anteroom, going to his own cot. He laid down, still feeling embarrassed and guilty over what he'd done. He sighed and turned to face the wall. He'd often felt like this: just when he started feeling like he fit in, something would happen that would make him feel out-of-place, all thumbs, alone.

He curled up in a ball and tried to sleep, but it was a long time before his eyes closed.

XXX

Loud voices woke Chuck in the morning. He rolled over on his cot, his eyes widening when he saw Miss Gertrude making her way into the room, carrying a large basket and followed by two burly men, carrying a large wooden tub.

"Okay, boys, set that down right here," Miss Gertrude said, gesturing to the bit of floor by the stove. "Now take the buckets and start filling the tub."

"Yes, ma'am," one of them said, before both men took large oaken buckets out of the tub and left the jail.

Miss Gertrude turned and frowned at Chuck. "You better get dressed and get outta here, Charles."

"Wha-?"

"Gertie, this is ridiculous," Beckman said, standing in the doorway to the back of the jail. "We can just string up some blankets."

"Hush, Diane," Miss Gertrude said. "Charles, there's breakfast out on the porch. The sheriff deserves some privacy."

"Yes, yes, of course!" Chuck said, scrambling with his blankets. He hurried into his pants and boots, then pulled on his hat.

The sheriff kept grumbling as Miss Gertrude unpacked her basket, revealing several bars of soap and some other female things. When she saw that Chuck was dressed, she handed him a box. "There's your breakfast. Take your coffee with you."

Chuck nodded and quickly poured himself a cup, before darting out onto the porch.

Morgan grinned at Chuck from his spot on the porch steps, his own coffee and breakfast beside him. "Got out in the nick of time, huh?"

"You said it," Chuck replied with a small smile, dropping down next to Morgan.

Casey sipped his coffee. "Gertrude's actin' like she's gettin' Diane ready for her first dance."

Chuck opened the box, revealing greasy sausages and a few hard rolls. He sighed a little but started eating, relying on his coffee to wash everything down.

"Miss Gertrude's said that the sheriff coulda caught the eye of several widowers if she dressed nice," Morgan volunteered.

Casey grunted. "Beckman's too good a sheriff to quit an' get married."

Chuck had to agree with Casey. He'd already been impressed with the sheriff. Now that he had seen her in action, with the gunfight last night and how she dealt with all those men, as well as getting shot-he thought she was doing the best job possible.

He glanced over at Casey, who was staying silent, watching the street as he drank his coffee. To his surprise, Casey hadn't needled him any about shooting the sheriff, beyond saying that Chuck should make sure he was in front of Casey before firing his gun. Maybe Casey was taking some sympathy on him. After all, Beckman had taken care of making Chuck feel like a real greenhorn.

El Dorado seemed to create women with gumption. The sheriff, Miss Gertrude, Sarah Walker . . .

He took a sip of his coffee, hunkering down for a good think. He didn't understand how he felt about Sarah Walker. Things had seemed clear before: he was interested, she didn't seem to find him repulsive, why couldn't they spend some time together? But with her family's attack on Shaw's holdings, and his own actions, he wasn't willing to trust his instincts right now. Not when there was so much that seemed murky to him.

Could he ever get better at shooting? If he didn't, would the sheriff tell him to get lost? And then there was the attack last night. What were the Walkers thinking, going up against Ty Bennett and his gang of trained gunfighters? Once the Marshal arrived, Shaw surely would be tried and convicted. That would be the end of the war, and everything could settle back down.

Chuck sighed and dunked a roll in his coffee, softening it up. He took a bite, chewing slowly. He didn't quite know what to think about these new developments. With how he was feeling, right now it'd probably be the best to just lay low and get his bearings back.

"You okay, Chuck? You're awful quiet," Morgan said, finishing off his sausage.

He shrugged. "Just feeling quiet."

"Embarrassed's more like it," Casey said.

Morgan nodded, looking understanding. "I usedta have nightmares about accidentally shooting the sheriff. But she seems to be takin' it right good, Chuck. Don't worry about it."

Chuck blew out a breath. "Yeah." Not worrying about it was easier said than done, he thought to himself.

XXX

It seemed that a woman's bath took a lot longer than a man's. It was nearly an hour later when Miss Gertrude stepped out on the porch, drying her hands on a towel. "Well, you boys can go back in-she's decent."

Morgan got to his feet quickly. "Need more coffee," he said by way of explanation. Chuck supposed he was also eager to leave Casey and Miss Gertrude alone, who had apparently made up from their fight. Chuck wasn't about to intrude on Casey's love life either, so he followed Morgan into the jail.

"Feeling better, Sheriff?" Morgan asked as he poured himself some coffee.

Chuck took a look at Beckman. After her bath, she definitely looked cleaner, but she hadn't put on any clothes yet. Instead, she was wearing a thick robe. "We're not interrupting anything?" Chuck asked.

Beckman shook her head. "Gertie's determined to wash my hair. She sent the boys out to empty the tub and fill it back up. Lotta fuss, but sometimes it's easier to just go along with her."

"That's Gertrude for you," Casey said, coming in and dropping into a chair by the stove. Miss Gertrude followed him and perched on the arm of his chair.

"Should just do what I tell you, Diane, without arguing," Miss Gertrude said. "In this department, I know best."

Beckman grumbled. "Wanna turn me into some kinda fashion plate. I'm gonna get laughed right outta my job."

"And a sheriff that people can smell comin'-that's a good thing?" the other woman asked, raising her eyebrows.

Chuck couldn't help laughing a little, earning a glare from the sheriff. He grinned at her. "Miss Gertrude's got a point, Sheriff."

"Thank you, Charles," Miss Gertrude said.

"Hey, in the jail."

Chuck straightened at the sound of the voice floating in through the cracked front door. It sounded like-

Morgan got to the door and looked out, then pulled it open, revealing Sarah Walker. She was carrying a bundle and a pair of crutches, her rifle tucked under one arm.

Chuck watched her, feeling his mind grow fuzzy. How did she make buckskins look so . . . feminine? She was curvy, yet there was strength readily displayed by her toned arms. He liked that contrast within her. His resolve to not trust his instincts felt a lot weaker now.

"Doc Wood asked me to bring these crutches over. He also had some clothes for you, Sheriff, and I heard you were taking a bath, so I brought over some soap," Sarah said, dropping everything on the desk by Beckman.

"Why, thank you, Sarah," Beckman said. She lifted the bar of soap and set it by four other bars. "Real handy to have extra soap, since half the town seems to think we don't got any."

Sarah looked sheepish. "Sorry, Sheriff."

"Walker, what are you doin' in town?" Casey asked.

"My brother needed to get his stitches out," Sarah said. "We brought him in to do that, and while I was waiting, Doc asked me to run over here."

Beckman looked at Sarah, her eyes snapping with anger. "This ain't some way of distractin' us, like before?"

"I had no idea what my pop was gonna do when I told you about Bennett," Sarah said, standing her ground. "I stayed back and guarded our place, kept an eye on Matt."

"But you didn't disagree with your daddy's plan, did you?"

Sarah set her jaw, staying silent. Chuck took that as agreement, and the sheriff certainly did, too.

Beckman's voice practically quivered with anger. "Your folks better watch themselves. You're the lesser of two evils in this fight, but I've got a long memory. Once this thing with Shaw gets settled, don't take that as an opportunity to keep makin' your own rules."

"I ain't the one running the show," Sarah said, her voice even. "You'll have to take this up with my pop."

"I will," Beckman said. "Now get your brother home, and stay close. Don't go tryin' anything."

Sarah lifted her chin, looking feisty and defiant. "Anything else, Sheriff?" she said, her voice icy.

Beckman sighed, the anger draining out of her. "No. I'm obliged for the crutches."

Sarah nodded and turned on her heel, taking long strides to leave the jail.

Chuck watched her go, then found himself following her. For some reason, he didn't like the idea of Sarah being angry, being upset. He tried to catch up with her, his long legs finally useful for something. "Sarah-Sarah!"

He wasn't sure if she was ignoring him or just didn't hear him, so he reached out and touched her shoulder. She whirled around, her first raised and ready to punch him. Chuck jumped back, his hands going up in the air. "Hey, hey, no need for violence!"

Sarah sighed and dropped her fist. "Sorry-instincts."

He nearly said that there was a lot of bad instincts going around, but he held his tongue. Instead, he lowered his hands. "You okay?" he asked her. "The sheriff really raked you over the coals."

"I'm fine," she said shortly.

Chuck tilted his head, gazing at her. Her whole body seemed tense, like she was struggling with some kind of emotion.

"I'm sorry the sheriff got so mad at you. You're not the one she should have been angry with," Chuck said quietly.

Sarah looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged. "You don't have to apologize for her."

"Well, she won't let me apologize to her, and I'm the one she's really angry at, so I guess I'm just trying to get the apology out to someone who deserves it."

She looked at him curiously. Chuck took a breath, bracing himself for her reaction. "Last night, when we went out to Shaw's ranch to break things up, I . . . I winged her."

Sarah's eyes widened. "You're the one who shot the sheriff?"

"I didn't mean to!" Chuck protested. "I was aiming at a guy who was gonna shoot her, and she got caught in the crossfire."

"Oh," Sarah said, then bit her lower lip.

Chuck sighed. "Go on, laugh. I know you want to."

"No, I don't want to laugh," she said. "It's just . . . it's pretty sad."

"Sad?" he repeated, feeling his shame and awkwardness increase.

Sarah nodded. "It must be pretty embarrassing, doin' that to the sheriff. Especially in front of Casey, who's one of the best shots around."

Part of him wanted to cringe. To slink away, his tail between his legs, and lick his wounds. This smart, capable woman thought he was sad for shooting the sheriff. And the thing was, she was right. He was an embarrassment, a lousy shot and a greenhorn who was stupid to think he could do this.

But on the other hand, there was still hope. He would get better, if he practiced more. The sheriff hadn't told him to clear out yet, hadn't said that she didn't need his help anymore. And Sarah was still talking to him.

Chuck straightened his shoulders. "Yeah, it's pretty sad. But I'm not giving up yet."

"That so?" she said, squinting a little against the bright sunshine.

"Yeah," he said. "Giving up would mean moving on, trying to find someplace else. And I like it here."

"You do?" Sarah asked, sounding disbelieving. "This place ain't that special."

Chuck shrugged. "Yeah, maybe, but I still like it."

"You've been all over," she argued. "You could go anywhere, but you want to stay here in El Dorado?"

He grinned at her. "Yeah, I do. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Dunno," she said, taking a step back. "Guess there's no accountin' for tastes."

Chuck tilted his head, trying to figure out just what she meant by that. "I guess so," he said slowly. "Even with the fight going on between your family and Mr. Shaw, I think El Dorado is a good place to live."

"Thought you were supposed to be smart, Chuck," Sarah said. "If you were, you'd get outta here. Find someplace safe to settle down, get a little ranch with a little woman to run things."

He frowned. "Hey, what's that about?" He followed her as she started walking fast towards Doc Wood's office. "Why are you so angry?"

"I ain't angry," Sarah snapped, wheeling around and facing him. She shoved some hair out of her face, revealing her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. "I just wanna be left alone."

"Okay, okay," he said, backing off from her. "Sorry I bothered you, Sarah." He turned and started walking back towards the jail, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He hoped that she might call out his name. Come after him. Explain what she was feeling. But he didn't hear a sound, and he wasn't about to turn around and see whether she was watching him.

Chuck scuffed his boots through the dirt and stones on the street. The last twenty-four hours had been pretty rough. After he had started feeling better about shooting the sheriff, his fight with Sarah had made everything seem pretty bleak. He'd shot Sheriff Beckman, he'd gotten Sarah angry with him, and in both cases, he didn't know how to fix things. That helpless feeling, not knowing what to do-whenever he felt like that, he'd always struggled with how to get over it.

Ellie had known how to help him at these times. She had a way of cheering him up, of making him look on the bright side. On his own, he wasn't so sure that he could find a solution for these problems.

Once he was back at the jail, he slumped down on the porch, not wanting to go inside yet. He knew that Ellie hadn't been some kind of fairy godmother, able to solve any problem with a wave of a magic wand. But she had always been willing to listen, to deal with his quirks. Now that he was getting back to a normal life, her absence in his life was even more apparent to him.

Chuck gazed off into space, searching for his own magic wand.

XXX

"Chuck? You okay, buddy?"

At the sound of Morgan's voice, Chuck stirred out of his daze. He had been lost in thought for a long time-long enough that twilight was starting to fall over the town. He looked up at Morgan and managed a smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just needed to think."

Morgan nodded and walked out, dropping down to sit next to him. "Yeah, I bet. Not been easy for you, huh?"

Chuck shifted, making room for Morgan. "Yeah. First the situation with the sheriff, and then . . . I must have said something that made Sarah angry, and that was pretty scary, so I kinda turned tail and ran."

The bearded man chuckled. "You're not the first one to do that, Chuck. Even her brothers run away from her when she's angry."

"Yeah?" Chuck asked, feeling his heart lighten a little bit. Perhaps he wasn't as much of a wimp as he thought.

"Oh, yeah," Morgan said. "Her moods change really quick. She usually keeps herself under control, but sometimes it just all bubbles up and comes outta her like some kind of volcano."

"So what do I do?" Chuck asked.

"Let her calm down," Morgan advised. "I've never heard anything about Wildcat holding grudges, so give her a day or two to get over whatever's bothering her."

"I just wish I knew what I said that made her so upset," Chuck said. "I was trying to apologize for the sheriff biting her head off, and then the conversation just turned bad."

"Maybe she'll tell you, once she's cooled off."

"Maybe," Chuck said, feeling a bit doubtful, but at least that was something to hope for.

"You still worried about the sheriff?" Morgan asked, changing the subject.

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, I am. I feel so guilty for hurting her."

His friend stroked his beard, trying to look wise, Chuck thought. "Of course you do. But you can't let your guilt cripple you."

He looked at Morgan, trying to figure out what he was driving at. "What do you mean?"

"If you're always worried about doin' the wrong thing, if you're worried about feeling guilty or embarrassed, you're bound to keep makin' mistakes."

"Huh," Chuck said, leaning back and thinking this over. "That's pretty smart, Morgan. It's the kind of thing my sister would have said."

Morgan smiled. "Your sister sounds like she was a wonderful woman. I'm glad my advice is as good as hers."

Chuck returned Morgan's smile, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "And you've only known me a couple of weeks, too. Ellie knew me my whole life."

"Well, I am a student of human nature," Morgan said. "You have to be, when you work as a lawman. You really have to figure out what makes people tick, so you can defend a town."

It was all Chuck could do not to laugh at Morgan's little speech. Somehow, he held back the laughter and just nodded. "Mmm, yes."

"I'm sure you'll get better the longer you work with the sheriff an' Casey," Morgan said. "After all, you're plenty brave, the sheriff said."

"She said that?" Chuck could hear his voice go up an octave.

Morgan nodded. "I heard her talkin' to Casey. Said anyone could see that you were scared crapless, but you still did your best."

"Oh," Chuck said, feeling a flush of pleasure come over him. That was . . . that was nice to hear. Maybe the sheriff was willing to give him the time to get better.

With a lot of enthusiasm, Morgan slapped Chuck on the shoulder. "C'mon. I said I'd go get the food tonight from Miss Gertrude's. You can come with me, get some air."

Chuck smiled at his friend. "Sounds good." He stood up and followed Morgan down the street, talking with him about what they might have for dinner and the penny dreadful that Morgan had just gotten.

And through the whole conversation, Chuck felt his mood lifting and improving. There was still plenty of hope for him, plenty of chances to make a new life for himself here in El Dorado.

End, Chapter Four