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.

8. Chapter 8: This Knight So Bold

Title: Chuck vs. the Wildcat 8/?

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 El Dorado. No copyright infringement intended.

Author'sNote: There's less fluffy Chuck & Sarah interactions going on right now, but I hope that doesn't get in the way of your enjoyment of this chapter!

XXX

Chapter Eight: This Knight So Bold

XXX

As twilight fell over El Dorado, Chuck walked through the streets. With only himself and the sheriff, they had to split up on patrols by each taking half of town. He didn't mind that much: it let them finish up quicker and gave Chuck more experience handling problems on his own. Now that he was a deputy, he had to step up more.

And maybe that idea of stepping up more applied to other things than his job.

Chuck sighed as he swept his eyes along the street, nodding to the people he saw. So far, his job was working out pretty well. But his relationship with Sarah, if it could be called that, was in limbo.

It had been several days since he had talked to Sarah about the raids on Shaw's ranch. Since then, there had been no further attacks, which was the only good thing to come out of that conversation. Because since then, whenever he saw Sarah, she ignored him. Acted like he wasn't even there. After two attempts to get her to talk to him, Chuck had let things settle into an uncomfortable status quo.

When he reached Miss Gertrude's saloon, he decided to step inside. There hadn't been any trouble with Miss Gertrude's place, not with Miss Gertrude running things, but it wouldn't hurt to show some lawman presence, he thought. Besides, it was the last stop on his patrol, and with all the work lately, he could use a nice, relaxing drink.

Walking in, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimly-lit saloon. Miss Gertrude kept the shutters over the windows, allowing only slivers of fading sunlight to brighten the room. A large gas chandelier in the middle of the room threw flickering light over the poker tables and the bar, providing the only real light in the saloon.

Chuck walked up to the bar and took a seat on a stool that was situated near one end, trying to blend in. As he took his hat off, he nodded to the female bartender. "Whiskey, please. And is Miss Gertrude around?"

"Who's asking?" said the bartender in a thick Spanish accent, brushing some dark hair out of her eyes. She poured Chuck a glass of whiskey and slid it across the bar to him.

"Chuck Bartowski, ma'am," he said before taking a sip.

"I'll see," the bartender said, walking away and heading towards a door located by the other end of the bar.

"Thank you!" he called after her. He hunkered down on his stool, taking slow, small sips of his whiskey. He knew that alcohol affected him quickly, so he didn't want to overindulge.

It only took a few moments before Miss Gertrude walked out through the door and joined him at the bar. She took a seat on a stool next to Chuck's. "Charles Bartowski. What brings you to my saloon?" Miss Gertrude gestured to the bartender, who immediately put down a glass of whiskey in front of her.

"Put her drink on my bill," Chuck said to the bartender, then held his glass up to Miss Gertrude. "I wanted to ask something of you. Enlightenment, I guess."

Miss Gertrude smiled, a crafty yet friendly smile. She lifted her glass up. "To enlightenment, then."

Chuck smiled and lightly tapped his glass against hers, then took a sip.

"Would I be right if I said your need for enlightenment is motivated by a certain challenging woman, Charles?"

He ducked his head, feeling his face flush. "It's that obvious?"

"I'm a saloon-keeper, Charles. A damn good one, which means I notice things," Miss Gertrude said, looking at him over the rim of her glass. She took a much larger sip of whiskey than what he'd been taking, then set her glass on the bar. "What's bothering you?"

Running a hand through his hair, he decided to throw himself on her mercy. "You're right that it's about a woman." He sighed. "There's something about Sarah that just . . . she draws me in, makes me feel so alive. Yet we're so different. It seems like eventually, the way she makes me feel wouldn't be enough to overcome our differences."

Miss Gertrude tilted her head to one side. "What differences do you see between the two of you?"

Chuck took a swallow of whiskey, trying not to cough. "Well . . . she's impulsive, quick to act. I think things over a lot. It takes me a really long time to decide what to do. She gets angry really easily, but I don't. And . . . and I don't know if we want the same things. I want to settle down, live in one place, but she's only ever lived here. She's told me she wants to travel and see the world."

"Hmmm," Miss Gertrude said, rubbing her thumb against the bar. "That sounds like a lotta differences."

"It is," Chuck said. "I mean, I think Sarah's beautiful, and smart, and really strong. I admire how she doesn't let anything hold her back. And when she kissed me-" Chuck stopped, biting back the rest of his words as he realized what he had revealed.

She smiled softly at him. "It was a good one?"

As he nodded, he felt his ears going red. Miss Gertrude laughed. "Charles, there's no need to be embarrassed. Any romance between a woman and a man, it won't go far if there isn't a physical connection to go along with the mental and emotional one."

"I know that . . . but it's strange to talk about it." Especially with a woman, Chuck thought to himself.

She laughed again. "It's not so strange to me." She picked up her glass and tossed back the last of her whiskey, then gestured to the bartender to refill it. "Charles, if I were you, I'd talk to Sarah. Be blunt with her-don't pussyfoot around things. Bring everything out into the open."

"You think that would work?" Chuck asked, feeling his hopes rise a little.

"Dunno," Miss Gertrude said with a shrug. "But if you're honest, at least you'll know where you stand. There won't be any doubt."

There was a note in her voice, something that made Chuck think back to his conversation with Casey and his relationship with Miss Gertrude. About how they knew how to push each other away when things got too serious. He wondered if Miss Gertrude was giving him advice that she wished she could take.

Chuck nodded and drank the last of his whiskey. "Thank you for the advice, Miss Gertrude."

She smiled at him, her eyes dark and a little bit sad. "Any time, Charles."

He smiled at her, then turned to the bartender. "What do I owe you?"

"Seventy-five cents," she said, taking his glass away.

Chuck pulled out his wallet and dropped two half-dollar coins on the bar. "Keep the change, ma'am." He set his hat on his head and nodded to Miss Gertrude. "You let us know if you need any help, Miss Gertrude."

The older woman smiled. "I've got things under control, but thank you."

"I know, but it's always nice to know where you can go for help," Chuck said, tipping his hat to both Miss Gertrude and the bartender before he headed out of the saloon.

XXX

The sheriff looked up from her desk when Chuck walked in. "Where you been, Bartowski?"

Chuck unbuckled his gun belt and hung it on a nail on the wall, covering it with his hat. "I stopped at Miss Gertrude's for a drink," he said, sitting down in a chair and stretching his legs out.

Beckman nodded. "Gertie's a good one to talk to."

"Yeah," Chuck said. "She gave me a good perspective on a problem."

She looked at him, her eyebrow raised. "Worryin' about your love life?"

"Don't have much of one right now," Chuck said, feeling a bit glum. Miss Gertrude's advice was good and he had every intention of seeing if it would work. But if Sarah wouldn't talk to him, he wouldn't get very far.

"Noticed that," Beckman said. "What's wrong?"

He looked over at the sheriff, a bit surprised that she was taking this much interest in him. "Since you're asking. . ." he said slowly, giving her a chance to cut him off if her offer wasn't in earnest. She stayed quiet, and he went on. "I want to talk to Sarah, but she keeps ignoring me. I think she's still mad at me for asking her to stop running raids on Shaw's place."

Beckman raised her eyebrows. "You did, huh? And you didn't think you shoulda kept quiet about that?"

Something in the tone of her voice told Chuck that she wasn't too pleased with him. He took a deep breath. "You said the real priority was dealing with Shaw and the monopoly. If you thought arresting Sarah was important, you would have done it."

"That's true," Beckman said grudgingly. "But don't do that again, you hear me?"

Chuck nodded. "Yes, Sheriff."

Silence fell between them for a few long, awkward moments, then the sheriff sighed and stood up, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "So Sarah's ignoring you now?"

"Yeah," Chuck said. "She got really mad at me for talking to her about it. By the end of the conversation, she had calmed down, but I think she's holding a grudge."

"All the Walkers are stubborn as mules," the sheriff said. "I should know-I am, too. So you're gonna need to find a way to get through the grudge she's holdin'."

"But how?" Chuck asked, feeling confused.

Beckman shrugged. "You'll hafta figure somethin' out."

He slumped down in his chair. "Yeah."

"Got somethin' for you to do while you're figurin' this out," the sheriff said, walking back over to her desk and sitting down in her chair.

It took Chuck a moment to catch up with Beckman's change of subject. "Yeah?"

"Yep," Beckman said. "Looks like with the Walkers stoppin' their raids, Shaw's decided to take advantage of us bein' down two men."

"What's he going to do?"

"Dunno. That's what you're gonna find out." The sheriff leaned back in her chair. "You said you're pretty good at trackin' and nosin' around. I want you to do just that at Shaw's ranch. Ride out there, watch what's goin' on, even get close enough to eavesdrop if you can."

Chuck took a deep breath. "What happens if I get caught?"

"Play dumb. Say you got lost, say you didn't know you were on Shaw's property."

"I'm not very good at playing dumb," Chuck said, feeling a bit sheepish. "I think too much and get tripped up when I'm talking."

"It's a good skill to learn. And hell, you're a man. You've got a natural-born instinct for playin' dumb." Beckman smirked at him and poured another cup of coffee, holding it out to him. "Drink up-you're gonna have a long night."

"You want me to go out there now?" Chuck asked, taking the mug.

The sheriff nodded. "Yeah. Go out, spend an hour or so nosin' around. We'll take our time with this, so as not to spook Shaw. But you're gonna be on short sleep rations for a while, Chuck."

Chuck took a big swallow of his coffee. "Okay, Sheriff. You can count on me."

Beckman looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "I know." She didn't say anything else, just sat down at her desk again.

XXX

With a yawn that he kept quiet as best he could, Chuck pushed himself up from the hard ground and started walking towards his horse. It was an hour after sunrise, the sky already turning milky as the heat increased. He'd been watching Shaw's house for three hours, and he hadn't seen much of anything. The servants seemed to be moving around a bit earlier than normal, but while he had some suspicions about what that meant, there was no clear-cut answer.

This was the fourth time he had watched Shaw's ranch, and so far he had acquired a few bits of info. He had definitely seen signs of some kind of preparation going on: some new servants, lights burning after midnight in the house, things like that. Since there wasn't any gossip in town about Shaw having visitors or some kind of event out at his ranch, Chuck had to agree with Beckman's instinct that Shaw had something planned and it was just a matter of time before he would make a move.

Chuck gave in and yawned again, glad that he was on his way back to town and to his cot. He'd catch a few hours of sleep before getting up and helping the sheriff with an early-afternoon patrol. They were expecting Casey and Morgan back within the next couple of days, since they had been gone nearly three weeks, and Chuck would be very happy to have them back.

His horse whinnied softly when Chuck appeared. "Hey, Newton," he said with a small smile, stroking the side of Newton's neck. "Ready to go home?"

Newton blew out a breath and gently butted his head against Chuck's hand. Chuck grinned. "I'll take that as a yes." He swung up into the saddle and started riding towards El Dorado. He was glad that Newton was such a smart horse; he could doze a little in the saddle on the way back to town.

He didn't know how long he napped in the saddle; Newton's gentle rocking motion lulled him into a deeper sleep than he'd planned for. The sound of hoofbeats drew Chuck out of sleep, and he blinked when he saw Sarah riding towards him.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he straightened up in the saddle, drawing his horse to a stop as Sarah came closer. She swept up next to him, reining in her horse and looking at him with a quizzical expression.

Trying to head off any questions, Chuck spoke first. "Hey, Sarah. It's good to see you. How's your family doing?"

"Chuck, what are you doin' out here?"

Of course she'd ignore his attempts to control the conversation and dive straight in with the hard question, Chuck realized. With the sheriff's warning to be more discreet echoing in his mind, he searched for some kind of explanation.

"Well . . . I still haven't seen a Texas sunrise, coming up over all the land, so I thought, why wait any longer?"

Even to his ears, that sounded bad, and it was all he could do not to wince. Sarah looked annoyed and skeptical.

"That so?" she asked, her eyebrows raised. "You came all this way out here, where you're trespassin' on Shaw's lands by the by, to watch the sun come up."

"I'm a nature lover," Chuck said weakly.

Sarah rolled her eyes and glared at him with a look of offended frustration. "If you don't wanna tell me, fine, but don't lie to me. I thought you were a better man than that."

Chuck felt a jolt of anger go through him. "I'm trying to be, but when I get ignored and avoided for no good reason, and then after days of doing that you start right in with interrogating me, I forget all my civilized ways and act like any other man."

His words had an impact on her; she opened her mouth to speak, but then paused and took a deep breath before speaking. "I'm sorry for givin' you the cold shoulder. You didn't deserve that, not when you were tryin' to help. Even though I don't need it."

"I know you don't need it," Chuck snapped. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna try, though."

She looked at him, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Why?" she asked, her voice soft. "Why do you want to try?"

He ducked his head, not wanting her to see into his eyes. Hadn't he made it clear so far that he was gone on her? And that meant he only wanted the best for her, wanted her to be happy and safe and cared for.

He knew that Miss Gertrude had told him to talk to Sarah, but this wasn't the time or place to be doing that. So he'd have to hope neither of them would say something that would start a fight. He took a few deep breaths, trying to get himself back under control.

At his continued silence, Sarah sighed softly and pushed her hat off her head, causing her hair to tumble around her shoulders. "I don't get you at all."

Chuck lifted his head and looked at her. "Sorry."

"You don't hafta be sorry," Sarah said quietly, her eyes locked on his. He swallowed, trying not to give in to the urge to take her hand, to lean over and kiss her even though they were both still on their horses. Even with them being on the outs, that spark was still there. It kept drawing them in, even when neither of them could understand why. Her gaze faltered a little and her horse twitched, moving Sarah away from him.

"Easy, girl," Sarah said softly, patting her horse's neck. She looked back at Chuck, but the moment was gone. "You can't tell me why you're out here?"

He shook his head. "No, I can't."

"You're out here, comin' from Shaw's lands . . . sun ain't been up too long, so you musta come out here while it was dark." Sarah tilted her head as she spoke, clearly trying to figure out what was going on.

Chuck could see her face change as an idea occurred to her. "Are you-is the sheriff protectin' Shaw?" Sarah asked, her voice aghast. "Now she's in his pocket, too?"

"No, that's not it at all, Sarah-" Chuck protested, but he could see his words fell on deaf ears. She just gave him one scathing look, then wheeled her horse and galloped towards the Walker homestead.

He watched her go, then groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. "Great job there, Bartowski," he said, channeling Casey for a moment. He gathered his reins and clucked to Newton, sending him into a gentle trot towards El Dorado.

XXX

"For a smart guy, you're pretty damn dumb sometimes, Bartowski. Is it women in general, or just the Wildcat?"

Chuck sighed and hung his head. "I'm sorry, Sheriff."

Beckman looked at him, then stood up from her position behind her desk. "I know you are, and to be honest, not much you coulda done better. At least you kept from tellin' her what's goin' on."

"Only for her to think we're watching Shaw because he's paying you off," Chuck said grumpily.

"Might work in our favor," Beckman said, pouring them both cups of coffee. "Never a bad thing to have Jack Walker in the dark. He'd be so worried about the idea that Shaw's got us on his side, he'll lay low for a bit."

He took the mug of coffee she handed him but didn't drink any of it. "Are you sure you want me to keep watching Shaw's place?"

The sheriff nodded. "Damn straight I want you to keep watchin'. You said it looks like something's gonna happen. I wanna know what that something is. You'll go back out tonight."

Chuck bit back a groan. He felt exhausted and jittery; the days of interrupted sleep and plenty of coffee were starting to catch up with him. The sheriff looked at him sympathetically. "I know it's been tough, Chuck, but Casey and Grimes oughta be back any day now. And after tonight, I'll give you a break to catch up on your sleep."

He nodded and took a sip of coffee. "Okay, Sheriff. Miss Gertrude send over breakfast yet?"

"She did, and I saved you the best of what's here," Beckman said, rummaging in the basket and pulling out some passable-looking bread and less-greasy-than-normal sausage.

Eating slowly and with plenty of coffee, Chuck started to feel more awake. He joined the sheriff on an afternoon patrol before taking a catnap for an hour before dinner. When he woke up, Beckman took one look at him and shook her head. "You look like crap, Bartowski. Go get dinner down the street."

The local cantina had good food, so Chuck knew the sheriff was taking pity on him. But he wasn't about to complain, since the cheesy bean-and-rice dish, served piping hot with good coffee, got Chuck feel ready for another night of little sleep. Once he had arrived on Shaw's lands, he took up a new position that would let him watch both the front and back of the house.

There was a lot to see once he hunkered down. Shaw's house had lights in several windows, and he could see plenty of people passing through the lamplight, indicating steady activity. He kept his eyes peeled, concentrating hard. If tonight was the night that Shaw's plan was put into action, Chuck didn't want to miss a thing.

The moon was only a quarter-full, and Chuck had to edge closer than he'd normally go in order to see anything. After a few hours, he could feel his eyes drooping, but through sheer will he kept from falling asleep. And he was rewarded for his diligence, because he started to see riders approaching Shaw's ranch house.

Chuck could see that they were good at this. They rode up to the house from different directions, some going to the front door, others to the back. It was mostly single riders, but when there was more than one, they rode single file.

He counted at least ten riders within about a half-hour before the pace slackened. Chuck waited what felt like an eternity, but was probably only ten or fifteen minutes, before he moved from his position and mounted Newton. He had to get back to town and fast without being detected. He kept his horse at a slow walk for several minutes, hoping that his caution wouldn't backfire on him. Once he was a quarter-mile from Shaw's place, he spurred Newton into a gallop.

XXX

Chuck burst into the jail through the back door. He had seen Casey and Morgan's horses in the stable, so he was extra-eager to share his news and to hear what the others had learned.

Both men looked dusty and tired; Chuck guessed they had been riding hard to get back to El Dorado. "Hey. Welcome back."

Casey grunted, but Morgan's greeting was much warmer. "Hi, Chuck!" The bearded man grinned widely at him.

"Good to be back?" Chuck asked, smiling back at Morgan.

Morgan nodded. "Sure is. I'm lookin' forward to sleeping someplace that's not the ground."

Chuck laughed. "I bet."

"Enough pleasantries," Beckman said. "Didja see anything out at Shaw's?"

"I sure did," Chuck said. "Looked like about ten men at least rode up tonight. They did their best to hide their tracks, to leave no evidence behind. Very sneaky."

Casey looked at the sheriff. "Sounds like we've got the right end of the stick."

"What'd you find out?" Beckman asked, leaning forward in her chair.

"Well, they're callin' themselves the Ring," Casey said, opening and closing his right hand as he spoke. "They've got a coupla fellows who run things, and then they've got men like Shaw, spread around Texas. Generals runnin' the show and captains doin' the work."

Beckman sighed, suddenly looking tired. "Yeah? How many generals?"

Casey shrugged. "Dunno."

"Probably around five or so, we think," Morgan said, shooting Casey a look. "That's from what the other sheriffs and Casey's friends have told us."

"Yep. Looks like they've been plannin' this for a good while; near as we can figure, at least a coupla years. They found men that were in place in the areas they were interested in and gave 'em all a nice big pile of money to start causin' trouble," Casey said. "Shaw was the first one who was ready to go."

"So they haven't started up anything elsewhere?" the sheriff asked, looking back and forth between Casey and Morgan.

Morgan shook his head, and Casey elaborated. "Nope, not yet. Seems like they're mighty miffed that Shaw's not closed the deal yet."

"So they sent men here to help him," Chuck said, picking up the thread of the story.

"The sheriffs said it's been real quiet in their areas-too quiet," Morgan said. "If the Ring is sendin' their hired guns here, they wouldn't wanna be startin' something in their hometowns."

"Exactly," said the sheriff grimly. "Meanwhile, we've got a potential war on our hands to deal with."

Chuck looked around the room, feeling the tension hang over them like the mythical Sword of Damocles. It wasn't great odds, he knew: both the sheriff and Casey were more than capable with guns, and Morgan was loyal as anything. And then there was him: the still wet-behind-his-ears greenhorn. Even if they'd all been the best, sending four of them up against Shaw's army of gunslingers was a surefire suicide mission.

He swallowed and broke the silence. He'd rather have some kind of answer than be left to imagine the answer. "What are we gonna do?"

Beckman looked at Casey, who grunted and rubbed his lower back. "All of us look like six kinds of crap. We attack tomorrow, there'll be four new graves in the cemetery."

Chuck shivered at Casey's grim but accurate prediction.

The sheriff nodded. "And I'm not partial to goin' in guns blazin' at this point. We'll sleep tonight, and in the morning we'll start talkin'. Grimes, you and Bartowski will make rounds tomorrow; see if there's any news. Casey, you and me will start checkin' our firearms."

"Makin' plans for some kinda stand, Diane?"

Beckman shrugged to answer Casey's question. "Wanna be prepared for anything. Grimes, before you go out tomorrow, check the supplies. Make sure we have enough if we gotta hole up."

"Yes, Sheriff," Morgan said meekly.

"But for now, sleep for all of us," the sheriff said, standing up. "Good havin' everyone back." Without waiting for any response, she headed into the jail anteroom. Casey grunted and flopped down on his cot. Within a few moments, soft snores could be heard from him.

Chuck looked at Morgan and couldn't help grinning, Casey's snores having broken some of the tension. Morgan grinned back. "Casey can sleep anywhere, anytime. Said it's all part of bein' a gunslinger."

"I guess so," Chuck said. He looked closely at Morgan. "You okay?"

Morgan nodded. "Yeah. Tired, y'know, but the trip was good. I learned a lot."

Chuck thought over the last few weeks, on the time he'd spent with the sheriff and the conversations they'd had. "Me, too," he said softly.

XXX

With a jerk, Chuck awoke from his dream. He took a few deep breaths, sweeping his eyes around the room. It was dim inside the jail; he could see pale light coming in through the cracks in the shutters, which told him that the sun was just starting to rise. He could hear the steady sounds of sleepy breathing filling the jail; he seemed to be the only one awake.

He rubbed a hand over his face. The dream was fading, leaving behind only a sense of dread and lingering uncertainty. The only thing he could remember clearly was that the dream involved Sarah.

It was early enough that he could just go back to sleep, and he did try. Chuck punched his pillow and turned on his side. It was just a dream, after all. It didn't mean anything was actually wrong with Sarah. Yet he couldn't stop worrying. If Sarah still thought that the sheriff was taking bribes from Shaw, she might be planning something foolish that would get her killed. With all of those gun hands at Shaw's ranch, that outcome was more likely than ever.

After trying to go back to sleep for several minutes, Chuck groaned softly and sat up. He wouldn't be able to rest if he was worrying and thinking about Sarah. Hopefully, she'd had enough time to cool down and start thinking, so she wouldn't shoot him on sight.

He really hoped she wouldn't shoot him.

Tossing back the covers on his cot, he quietly got up and got dressed. He scrawled a note and left if on the sheriff's desk, then tiptoed out the back door of the jail. Soon, he was riding Newton out towards the Walker homestead. He knew that Sarah wanted to keep their friendship quiet, but he didn't see any other way to talk to her other than visiting her home.

It was a risk, he knew. But with his unsettled his feelings from the dream, he was more convinced than ever that he wasn't ready to give up on a relationship with Sarah. Even though things were in limbo between them, he wanted to make sure she knew as much of the truth as he was allowed to tell.

The sun was fully up in the sky and the heat was rising by the time he arrived. He dismounted and wrapped one of Newton's reins around the hitching rail in front of the Walker house, then took a deep breath. Gathering his courage, he stepped onto the porch and knocked lightly on the door.

After a moment, the door was opened by a stout-looking Mexican woman, wearing a stern expression on her face. "Si?"

Chuck took his hat off quickly. "Good morning. Is Miss Sarah here?"

The woman tilted her head, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Who I say is calling?" she asked in heavily-accented Spanish.

"My name is Chuck, ma'am."

At the sound of his name, the woman's face brightened, a smile spreading across her face. "Señor Chuck! Si! Yes, I tell her." The woman looked around, then whispered, "Stay here," before closing the door partway and going into the house.

That was surprising, Chuck thought, taking a step back and fidgeting with his hat. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn't been such a switch in attitude just from hearing his name.

After a few moments, the door opened to reveal Sarah, getting pushed out the door by the Mexican woman who was speaking in Spanish at a rapid clip.

"Okay, okay, Rosa, I'm goin'!" Sarah finally said, stepping onto the porch and closing the door behind her. She sighed and looked at Chuck. "I don't wanna talk to you, but Rosa wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Is that the Rosa who's your cook?" he asked, looking at her.

She nodded. "She's more stubborn than me, and that's sayin' something. She said I should talk to you." By the tone of Sarah's voice, she wasn't thrilled by the idea.

From what Sarah had told him about Rosa, the woman seemed like a second mother. If she was encouraging Sarah to listen to him, maybe there was hope for them. Chuck squared his shoulders and looked at Sarah.

"Sorry for just showing up here like this, but I came out here to talk about the other day. About how you thought Shaw was paying off the sheriff."

Sarah lifted her chin, setting her hands on her hips. "Yeah, I did think that." She paused, and her defiance faded away as she let her arms drop to her sides. "For about five minutes. Then I realized how dumb I was actin'."

Chuck felt an almost comical sense of relief. "Really?" he asked eagerly.

She nodded. "I overreacted. There's no way the sheriff woulda let herself get bought by Shaw. And she's always been fair to us."

He grinned at her, happy that he wouldn't have to convince her about the sheriff's neutrality. "I'm so glad, Sarah."

Sarah smiled back sheepishly, looking embarrassed. "So you can forgive me for actin' like a fool?"

"Of course," he said, taking a small step closer to her. "I'm just happy you're willing to talk to me now, after I lost my temper."

"Lost your temper?" Sarah asked, her nose wrinkling in confusion. "When'd you do that?"

"When you saw me at Shaw's the other day?"

At his words, Sarah's confusion melted into amusement, and she chuckled. "Hell, Chuck, if that's you losin' your temper, then you've never really lost it."

"Well, I wasn't acting like I should act with you, so I'm sorry," Chuck said.

She nodded. "No need to apologize, but it's appreciated." She gave him a long, level look. "You still can't tell me why you were out at Shaw's place?"

Chuck shook his head, looking at her apologetically. "No. But . . ." He paused and looked around, then returned his eyes to hers. "Be careful, okay? Don't try anything."

Sarah set her jaw, still looking a little annoyed. "Yeah. Okay."

Her moods were like quicksilver, Chuck thought. Just when he had a handle on what he thought she was feeling, she'd say or do something that made him realize he had no idea what was going on in her head.

Before Chuck could respond, the door opened and Rosa was there, grabbing Sarah's hand. She said something to her in a low voice, and Sarah nodded. "Okay, Rosa. Gracias."

Sarah turned to Chuck. "I hafta go-my pop's lookin' for me." She paused for a moment, then nodded to him. "Thanks, Chuck."

"You're welcome, Sarah," he said quickly before she vanished into the house. Rosa, as she closed the door, smiled at him, and Chuck couldn't help returning the smile, even if he didn't really feel it.

It was probably a good idea to not linger too long, so Chuck set his hat on his head and climbed back on his horse. As he rode back to El Dorado, he took stock. He still had some concerns about his relationship with Sarah, some questions that he had to answer before he'd be ready to put his cards on the table. He hoped in that conversation she'd do the same, give him some insight into her inscrutable feelings. But before he could do any of that, they'd have to deal with Shaw and the Ring.

Chuck couldn't help screwing up his face in frustration. He hoped that Casey and Beckman would find a way to confront Shaw without it coming to violence. Because he didn't think he'd be much use to them in a firefight. But at this point, he wasn't sure that it was possible for this to end without bloodshed.

And if there was blood spilled, he really hoped that his new friends wouldn't be the ones to suffer.

End, Chapter 8