A/N: Hello, again, lovely readers.

Our awesome beta, SweetThunder, was back on the job for this chapter, adding her special touch to make it just that much more awesome.

Yes, Stephenie Meyer still owns the Twilight characters, but WE OWN WESTWARD! He belongs to us and we like to play with him. We hope you will join us in our sandbox.

So now, please enjoy….

Westward

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The Marksman

Chapter 14 - Resurrection!

The rotund man sat behind his lavish mahogany desk sipping his morning coffee and feeling quite pleased with the way things were turning out. His sniveling, no account son was no longer a blight to his reputation; in fact Junior's death had proved to be a boon to his approval ratings in the polls. And to have the famed Ed Cullen attached as the convicted murderer just put the cherry on top.

Pulling out a well-worn handkerchief from his breast pocket, he mopped the beads of sweat that collected on his shiny pate, before relighting the stumpy cigar that dangled between his stubby, sausage-like fingers. He took a few puffs before the door to his office was unceremoniously flung open by a tall man with dark hair and a mustache that rivaled his own.

"What's the meaning of this intrusion?" he bellowed, all but losing his grip on his cigar in his startled surprise.

"The name's Wyatt Earp, Territorial Marshal, and I've got a message for you Newton."

Mike Newton Senior quickly regained his composure, staring coldly at the lawman as he leaned back in his large leather chair and squinted his beady eyes. He took several puffs on his cigar before exhaling the smoke in little rings. He examined the man that barged into his private office above the general store, with a look of simmering disdain. How dare anyone, lawman or otherwise, deign to thrust their presence on him without warning.

"Oh, you have, do you? Well then, by all means, have your say," he said with an evil menace to his voice.

"The circuit judge is on his way back to hear new evidence in the Cullen case. You and I both know the man is innocent. If you come clean now and drop the charges, we can avoid a whole lot of unpleasantness later."

"I'll do no such thing. That cur shot my son in cold blood and I'll be the first to cheer when he hangs at noon today." He stood up behind his desk attempting to muster all the presence his five-foot-seven frame could muster; he was nearly as wide as he was tall.

"Well, then I hope that your conscience can handle the death of an innocent man, though I don't think it'll come to that."

"He's only as innocent as I say he is and I'll see that criminal hanged if it's the last thing I do!" shouted Newton, his face turning a bright shade of red.

"It may just be," Mr. Earp gave a sharp nod of his head and backed out of the office, leaving Big Mike Newton to stew in his own thoughts until high noon.

# # # # # #

Bella was going stir crazy in Alice's shop; she couldn't focus on anything. She was beside herself with worry and her hands wouldn't stop shaking. The small watch that she had pinned to her chest ticked ruthlessly on, every second getting closer and closer to high noon.

"I can't stand it anymore Alice. I have to go check and see if there's any word from Phoenix," Bella said as she marched to the door.

"I know you do sweetheart. I'll be here for you, come what may." Alice rushed to her friend and gathered her in a fierce embrace before watching her run down the boardwalk to the bank.

Bella's lungs were burning by the time she reached the end of Main Street and threw herself into the bank. Jasper's eyes shot up, his face showing concern when he saw who had just come in.

"Any word Jasper? Anything at all?" Bella's voice was desperate with need and fear.

"I'm sorry Bella, there's been nothing all morning long."

She swallowed back her tears, nodded and wandered quietly out of the bank, a numbness overtaking her entire being. Without thinking, she made her way to the livery stable and asked the boy there to saddle up her horse. She climbed up and rode hard all the way out to her ranch.

She looped the reins over a low-hanging tree branch and began wandering through the remains of her home. She closed her eyes and, as painful as it was, allowed herself to imagine what life could've been like for her and Eddie. They'd have rebuilt the house, maybe even made it a bit bigger to allow for children. The outbuildings would have been restored one by one, and the fields would no longer be barren.

She shook her head slightly as she came out of her musings, realizing that would never happen now. She glanced down at the watch again and saw that it was nearing one o'clock. This time when she closed her eyes she could no longer hold off the thoughts of Phoenix at high noon. A tear streaked down her face and she was bombarded by images of her Eddie, her man, swinging by his neck. She snapped her eyes open, forcefully pushing those thoughts into her subconscious once more, unwilling to allow such awful pictures to run through her mind.

It was close to dark by the time she made it back to Alice and Jasper's home. When Alice heard the horse, she ran out on to the porch, clasping her hands together in front of her chest.

The numbness had settled over Bella's heart again, but she forced herself to ask one more time. "Any news?"

"No honey, I'm so sorry," Alice whispered. "I'm so very sorry."

She opened her arms and clutched at her friend before the two women collapsed on the porch and cried.

# # # # # # #

The drop wasn't long enough. As Ward fell, the rope cinched tighter around his neck cutting off all the circulation to his brain and air to his lungs. He reached up with his bound hands scratching and grasping at the rope that was slowly strangling the life out of him. Stars and lights flashed before his eyes as a heavy curtain of blackness veiled his mind.

# # # # # # #

"Dammit," shouted James as he leaned forward on his mount, urging it onward at top speed. He and Jacob were entering the town limits with a very reluctant Judge Banner, when they saw from a distance Ward drop through the trap door of the gallows. "Cut him down!" he shouted riding through a quickly parting sea of humanity. "Cut the damn rope!"

Marshal Earp moved to the rickety stairs to cut Ward down, but the Sheriff stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

"Move it Crowley, this is no joke," growled Earp.

"Don't believe I'm laughin', Earp," spat the sheriff. The two men began shoving at one another, ignorant of the small, squirrelly figure pushing his way up the stairs and knocking the surprised hangman back. Billy reached out for the rope and started slicing through the strands with his trusty buck knife. With a deadened thud, Ward's unmoving body fell to the ground. Everything seemed to stand still.

"What the devil is going on here?" shouted Big Mike Newton. "Banner, what is the meaning of this?"

"Seems as though there's new evidence that I need to hear about Cullen's case, provided the poor bastard isn't already dead," replied the circuit judge, still on his horse and looking fairly bored.

"But he's guil..."

"Save it Newton, my hands are tied," Judge Banner snapped.

Jacob and James worked quickly to get the rope from around Ward's neck. His face was ashen, his jaw slack. The two men shared a grave look before removing the bindings from around his legs.

"Sheriff, bring the keys to the hand cuffs," shouted Marshal Earp. With an indignant air, Crowley pushed past the men and and roughly unlatched the shackles; Ward's hands fell limply to the ground.

Calling on all that he had witnessed at his father's side and the small bit of training he'd already received, Jacob began a low chant, ghosting his hands over Ward's face and torso. He reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out some herbs and grasses and placed them directly under Ward's nose.

"Keep his feet lifted, James," Jacob instructed as he continued his chant. The minutes rolled by, intensifying the tension around the huddle of men.

"He's starting to pink up," murmured the Marshal.

The minutes dragged like hours before a small groan emanated from Ward's dry lips. Shallow, irregular breaths began evening out and without warning, his eyes flew open and he began clawing at his throat.

"Relax pardner, you're off the noose, you're alive. Just breathe," James reassured him. Ward lifted his head, eyes pinched together in pain, gave a very slight nod and relaxed back to the ground.

The Marshal turned to the Judge and said, "We've had some new, more credible witnesses than Clearwater, turn up. It would be a travesty of justice for them to not be heard."

"So I was told on the ride back to this hell-hole," muttered Judge Banner. "We'll give Cullen the night to recover and we'll convene at nine a.m. in the gathering hall."

"He stays in the Jail!" demanded Big Mike, his wide girth pushing through the crowd.

"I will stay with him," offered Jacob.

"Oh no you don't, you filthy Injun," retorted Big Mike.

"Newton! Put a cork in it. I'll stand watch myself the entire night, along with both my deputies. He ain't goin' nowhere," sneered Sheriff Crowley.

"Guess I'll be joinin' the party as well, just to make sure everything's on the up and up," Marshal Earp chimed in, followed by a "me too" from James.

"Now see here, I ain't runnin' a durned hotel..."

Wyatt Earp crossed his arms as he drew himself up to his full height, his large curling mustache twitching just a hair. "I dare you to contradict me, Crowley."

The Sheriff blustered and huffed, but in the end just shook his head and stalked off, yelling at the still-gawking crowd to disperse.

"Bella," Ward croaked from his position on the ground.

James and Jacob gently lifted him up to a seated position. "We'll let her know that you're still alive."

Later that evening, James came back into the jail shaking his head.

"What's wrong?" croaked Ward. His voice was raspy and strained from the pressure the rope had put on his voice box.

"Telegraph line is down. Nothing's coming in or going out," James replied, running his hand through his long wavy hair.

"Bella's going to be out of her mind with worry. I hate putting her-," he paused to clear his throat and take drink, "putting her through all that."

"Rest your voice now, friend. All will work out as it should," Jacob said confidently.

# # # # # # #

"Order!" shouted Judge Banner, banging his gavel on the makeshift bench behind which he was sitting.

"I'd like to call Rick Cassidy to the stand," said Marshal Earp in an even tone.

The young man swore with his hand on The Good Book to tell the truth, and squirmed in his seat as the Marshal's gaze settled on him. Now that he was sober, he very much regretted opening his stupid mouth. Big Mike scowled in his direction and raised one eyebrow as if to say, "remember what you have to lose by ratting me out".

"Mr. Cassidy, can you please describe the events of the morning in question," asked the Marshal.

Rick averted his eyes from Mr. Newton and went on to tell the story he'd told to James and the Marshal just a day or two before. He was interrupted on more than one occasion by the loud curses and objections of Big Mike and his smarmy lawyer.

Judge Banner looked only slightly interested in what Rick was saying, and was exerting minimal effort to keep Big Mike under control.

The bartender, O'Hanlon, also provided his own account of the events of the morning Ed Cullen shot and killed Mike Newton, Jr.

"And Mr. O'Hanlon, did you ever disclose this information to Michael Newton, Sr.?" Asked Earp.

"Yessir, the very same afternoon," replied Joe, with a nervous tremor in his voice.

"Now that's a bald-faced lie if I ever heard one," shouted Big Mike, standing with his thumbs hooked into the small pockets of his white vest, his cigar dangling loosely between his lips.

"And what did Mr. Newton say in response?" The Marshal's voice rode over Newton's shouting as he looked on encouragingly to Mr. O'Hanlon.

"He..He said," Joe gulped and swallowed hard as he took in the scorching glare that Newton was giving him.

"Go on Joe, nothing has changed," the encouraged, stepping in between Joe and Newton, obscuring the intimidating glares coming from the grieving father.

"He said that if that it sure would be a shame if my saloon were to burn down if that information ever got out."

A gasp filtered through the crowd of townsfolk as this revelation came to light.

"And were you at all compensated for your silence beyond the safety of your business establishment?"

"Yessir. Big Mike also paid me fifty dollars to keep quiet."

"And why are you now coming forward with this information?"

"'Cause it's the right thing to do. Mr. Cullen tried his best to get young Newton to bugger off, but the kid wouldn't leave well enough alone. It ain't right for Cullen to hang for Newton's foolishness."

"Sounds to me like maybe you might have gotten a better offer to tell this version of the story Mr. O'Hanlon," drawled Judge Banner.

The Marshal looked over his shoulder and nodded to some people at the back of the gathering hall.

"Now Judge Banner, that's an awful strong accusation to make. Especially from a man who's on the take from Big Mike himself."

At this statement, the crowd of observers began whispering and a low hum of excitement rippled through the room.

"Order!" the judge yelled, "I will have order in this court!" Slowly the din died down and all eyes were fixed on the two men who filed up the aisle toward the front of the room. "Just what are you trying to say, Marshal?" Judge Banner asked.

"Mr. Brannigan? I defer to you," the Marshal said stepping aside.

"Thank you, Mr. Earp," Burt Brannigan replied with a slight bow. "Judge, what we're trying say is that you were observed by myself, and the Reverend here, taking a large sum of money, just this morning, from the hands of Mr. Newton around the back of the hotel where you stay when you're in town. The Marshal also observed this transaction, but as he is seeing to the interests of Mr. Cullen, we're not going to count him as a witness."

All of the blood drained from Judge Banner's face and his hands began to shake. All this time, Ward sat with his arms gently folded across his chest, thoroughly grateful for all those who stood by him and had managed to unearth all of the skeletons in Newton's closet.

Brannigan turned around and smiled at Big Mike. "Can't you just see the headline now Mr. Newton? 'Candidate Newton Causes an Innocent Man to Hang'. Wouldn't your constituents just love to read that in the morning paper? Or how about 'Newton has Judge and Sheriff on His Payroll, Innocent Man Dies as a Result'."

"You've got no proof!" shouted Newton.

"Wrong sir. I've got plenty of proof, and plenty of folks willing to testify to all the ways you done them wrong." Brannigan smiled wickedly and nodded to the Marshal, turning the floor back over to him.

"Now Judge, if you'd like some leniency in how you're dealt with when this current mess is through, I suggest you think long and hard about saving your skin. Your career is already shot, so now you just have to decide how long you want to spend in jail." A commotion erupted behind the Marshal as a group held a struggling Big Mike spread-eagle between two men. "You think you're going somewhere, Newton?"

"This is hogwash. All of it. A complete sham. I won't stand for it. Someone has to pay for my son's death!"

"Silence!" shouted a defeated looking Judge Banner. "Mikey paid for his own stupidity. The testimony of Mr. Cullen's claim that he shot Mike Newton, Jr. in self-defense, has been overwhelmingly in his favor. I hereby find the defendant, Edward Cullen, innocent of murder and cleared of all charges." The gavel came down sharply on the table as the Judge lowered his head into his hands.

The crowd broke into a loud buzz of excitement and anger. Most of the anger was directed squarely at Mike Newton, Sr., whose wife sat in a corner sobbing softly into a handkerchief. She stood slowly and walked up to her husband. "Mae, you can't believe a single word of it," he pleaded. Her only response was a sharp slap across his inflated and ruddy face. She deftly sidestepped him and made her way to the door.

Ward stood up and moved quickly to the outer door, intercepting Mrs. Newton just as she made to leave. "Ma'am, I am truly sorry that this happened. I never meant for your boy to be harmed."

"I know you didn't. He was my son but he was impulsive and foolish, much like his father. Thank you for your apology. I accept it." She gave a tight smile and hurried away from the building.

The Marshal took both Sheriff Crowley and Judge Banner, as well as Big Mike into custody and left James in charge as the interim Sheriff until a new one could be chosen for the town. It would take a day or two to ride back to the territorial seat in Tucson and gather up the required authorities in order the set to rights the judicial disaster that had arisen in Phoenix.

James escorted Ward and Jacob down to the hotel after Doc Brown had checked Ward's injuries. His ankle was swollen up again from the fall through the trap door of the gallows and his ribs were awful sore, but the Doc figured they'd be alright with some extra binding strips around the torso. Ward didn't even bother counting the split lip and the black eye that the sheriff had given him. The only thing that really bothered him was the angry, red rope burn that nearly circled his neck.

The exhaustion of the last couple of weeks was finally weighing down on him, his eyes barely staying opened long enough to eat a meal. Before James left, he handed Ward his gun belt.

"I was able to retrieve it from the Valentine place before we left Devil's Fork. I figured you'd probably want it back."

Ward nodded his head and replied, "Much obliged James. For everything. You're alright in my book."

"It was the least I could do for getting you mixed up with the Valentines in the first place. If it hadn't been for me, you'd have been long gone from there."

Ward shook his head lightly, "Naw, I'd have stuck around anyhow."

James nodded thoughtfully. "Izzy? She's a good woman, even if I did give her a hard time."

Ward gave him an answering nod then asked, "Speaking of women, I've always wondered why you're so skittish around Rosalita."

James turned away and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck as his face turned a blistering red. "Shi-yooot," he drawled. "I never thought I'd ever have to tell this one."

"Well, I think you're gonna have to now. Or I could just have her tell me when I get back to Devil's Fork," said Ward with a mischievous glint in his eye.

James turned back to face him, "Let's just say I was behaving less like a gentleman than I should've been, and she took a chunk out of my hind quarters the size of a silver dollar with that whip of hers." He gave Ward a sheepish look. "I learnt my lesson, and try to never come within striking distance of her, or that bull whip, again."

Ward laughed as heartily as his injured ribs would allow. "I'll be sure to send her your best when I get back home," he chuckled.

"Home, huh?" James said with a cocked eyebrow. Now it was Ward's turn to look sheepish as he gave a slight nod. "You do that," smiled James as he shook Ward's hand.

"So do you think you'll make it back up to Devil's Fork?" Ward asked as he looked at the man that he now considered a friend.

"I don't rightly know. If this lawman gig works out, I may stay down here in these parts for a spell."

Ward nodded in understanding. A man had to go where he could make a living. Since the Valentine's were no longer a presence in Devil's Fork, there wasn't much for James to do up there. He'd do well as a lawman and Ward told him as much.

After Ward and Jacob shook James' hand one final time, he turned and strolled back toward the jail.

Jacob followed Ward up to his hotel room and began making a poultice using tobacco leaves and other herbs. He wet it all down and wrapped Ward's ankle and ribs with the concoction.

"It will help with the bruising. Perhaps in a few days we can return to Devil's Fork."

"A few days my eye," came Ward's scoffing reply. "We're leaving at first light. I can't leave Bella to stew for that long. Heck, I've let her stew for far too long as it is. With no way of telling when the telegraph line gets fixed, we need to get back there on the double."

"I figured that's what you would say. You'll need to take it easy, but hopefully the poultices will help."

"I just need to get back to her."

"We will my friend. We will."

# # # # # # #

The day after Edward's hanging, Bella took to her bed, lying there and staring at nothing in particular. She rose only to answer nature's call before falling back upon the covers. She couldn't bring herself to care about anything that was going on around her. It was so much worse than when she had lost her father. While she still missed him so, this felt as if a part of her had been torn away, leaving only a gaping wound that throbbed with each breath she took. Alice brought her trays of food that remained untouched. He heart was broken into thousands of jagged little pieces that seemed to cut at her soul each time she moved. So she remained still.

When she did manage to doze off into a fitful sleep, she would awaken screaming Ward's name and crying hysterically before falling into the waiting arms of Alice. The lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll on both women.

On the third morning, Rosalita came in and for a moment, Bella feared that she would literally whip her out of bed. She was surprised though, by the compassion that Rosalita showed her.

"Yo se. I know what you feel, mi Bella. Mi esposo, Rafael, he was killed in the war." Rosalita's accent was much more pronounced as she spoke of her lost love. Silently she stroked Bella's hair, giving her a few moments to think.

"Does it ever go away? The hurt?"

A sad smile graced Rosalita's lips and she softly shook her head. "It gets smaller and smaller, but it will always be there. You will find another one day who almost makes you forget, like Emmett, mi toro hermoso. But he will always be here in your heart. Just like my Rafael is always with me."

"I don't want to find another," Bella whispered into the pillow.

"No one is saying you should find someone else today, but you must rejoin the living. Come Bella, come with me to Emmett's. He needs some extra help today."

Rosalita tugged on Bella's arms and helped her get dressed. Bella sat motionless, listening as Rosalita spoke softly in Spanish while she combed and plaited her hair. She followed wordlessly as they walked down to the Saloon. As they passed the bank, Bella couldn't help herself as she poked her head inside and looked hopefully at Jasper.

"Sorry, Bells. Still nothing."

Her face fell as she nodded dejectedly and returned to the boardwalk where Rosalita was waiting patiently for her. They quietly crossed the street and headed into the Devil's Luck.

Emmett was freshly shaven, save his twirly handlebar mustache. His hair was neatly slicked down on either side. His white shirt was clean and bright, the black garters wrapped tightly around the muscles of his upper arms. He grinned at Rosalita and grabbed her up into a searing kiss.

His eyes were much more gentle as they settled on Bella. She just seemed to be adrift in an ocean of feelings that she couldn't navigate.

"My momma always said that idle hands are the devil's tools. Care to help me out?" He held a rag out to her and led her to a large tray of glasses and mugs of various sizes.

"Sure Emmett," she responded with a weak smile. "I'm gonna have to go down to Phoenix soon. Who do you suppose could go with me?"

"What for, Bells?"

"I need to bring him back here, Em. He should be buried here, on our property."

"We'll figure something out, Bella. Don't you worry."

An awkward silence filled the air for a long while. Emmett busied himself with taking inventory of his stock, and serving the early birds who started their drinking well before lunch time.

When there was a lull in business, Emmett cleared his throat and spoke. "You know, me and Jasper and a few of the other fellers, were planning on helping you clear off your land; start over and such, if you want." He looked so earnest and eager to help in the only way he really knew how.

"That's mighty kind, Emmett. Mighty kind." She didn't know what else to say beyond that so she focused on the chore she been set to and didn't let her mind wander past the water spots on the glasses.

As the day wore on, customers came in and out, music played and Bella was in the back, counting bottles of whiskey and other spirits. She'd just gotten to the one case of sasparilla, and a tear trickled down her cheek. Slowly she began to count the bottles. They were all there save one. The one that Eddie had drunk when she ran into him and ruined his shirt. A fresh wave of tears sprung to her eyes. She went back out to the front and reached under the bar for a clean rag and furiously wiped her eyes. The saloon doors clattered open and shut, which by itself wasn't anything special, but the silence that followed was unusual. The music stopped abruptly and the chatter died as if it had been swallowed up by the sea.

Slowly Bella stood up and looked to the entrance. She shook her head once, because she was positive that she was seeing things. She rounded the end of the bar and took a few steps forward, hesitating; not wanting to be fooled by her own desperate imagination. But there he stood, her Eddie. In his long black duster and a new hat. His face was bruised and his lip was still healing from a nasty cut, but he was alive.

"Eddie?" she stepped forward clutching the material of her dress right over her heart.

"It's me, darlin'."

"Eddie!" she cried as she stumbled into his arms. She wrapped herself around him, kissing his face and neck and chest and anywhere else she could reach. She was frantic in her efforts to reassure herself that he was really here. She stopped when she heard a pained grunt, and pulled back.

"Gently love. Gently," he said grimacing at the force with which she was holding him. Immediately she let go and tried to move away, but he held her fast.

"Oh, for pity's sake, Eddie, you're hurt! I don't want to cause you any more pain," her voice was tortured as she again attempted to move out of his arms.

"I'm never letting you go," he replied, scooping her up under her legs and carrying her out the saloon door.

He leaned down and covered her lips with his, pressing firmly, savoring the sweet taste of his true love. She responded hungrily, nipping and suckling his lower lip as their mouths caressed one another. In that one kiss, he erased all the worry and sadness that had surrounded Bella these last few weeks. She knew he wasn't going anywhere.

Their very public display of affection on the boardwalk in front of the saloon was cut short by the throat clearing of Emmett who offered them a room if they wanted some privacy.

Ward grinned and gently shook his head. "We're off to the preacher's house."

Bella's eyes grew huge at his statement, and then a grin settled across her features and she nodded in agreement.

Emmett snickered, and shook his head, turning back into the saloon.

Bella looked up into her Edward's green eyes, bringing her hand to his cheek. "You came back," she said, smiling softly.

"I made a promise. And I'm nothing if not a man of my word. I love you, Bella."

"I love you too, Edward. Always."

They kissed all the way to the preacher's house.

# # # # # # # #

A/N

Melly: Hey, Belly.

Belly: Yes, Melly?

Melly: I have a contest for our readers.

Belly: Oh, that sounds like fun. What is it?

Melly: I'm giving away bonus points and cyber cookies to whomever can name the 3 pop-culture references in this chapter (2 movies and 1 TV show) (And the bonus points are like those on the show "Whose Line is it Anyway?"- The points really mean nothing.)

Belly: Maybe we could give the winners a sneak-peak at the "M" rated out-take for the next chapter. You know I REALLY want to write one.

Melly: Oh I know you do, *dirty mama*. But that would probably be better than meaningless points and phantom cyber cookies. Though it does mean you're actually going to have to write one PDQ. And I think I know the "inspiration scene" you're going to be using...

Belly: Oh, you know I'm so thinking "Australia"- *says Belly with a wicked gleam in her eye*

Melly: Can we dream of Westward and Drover tonight?

Belly: Yum-yum!

Melly & Belly: * sigh *