Once the two were on their way, Jimmy took a good look at the woman. She looked terrified and he wondered if the reputation he'd built with women had gotten that far out of control so as to merit her response.

"Ma'am, I don't think we've properly met. I know of you and you seem to know who I am."

"Who doesn't know Wild Bill Hickok?" she retorted.

"Actually that's not my name. It's James, James Hickok. My friends, the few who'll claim me call me Jimmy," he looked at her and hoped his words sounded reassuring and not defensive, "And your name?"

"Faith," she replied, as if uncertain, "Faith Lassiter. Jimmy, huh?"

"That's right."

They ventured a bit further and Jimmy was chagrined to see her white knuckles clutching the reins. She was not becoming more comfortable; if anything she was growing more fearful.

"Faith, I need to ask you something."

He could see how she worked to keep her voice level and her head down.

"What is it?"

"Has my reputation gotten that bad? You act as if you're not safe with me."

"I would think you'd know perfectly well what your reputation is," she nearly snapped at him and then flinched as if ducking repercussions.

"I guess I do," he agreed, "I never thought there was anything said about me that I was anything but a gentleman where a lady is concerned."

"And you would have me believe that all of those women run willingly to your, your…"

He spared her the obvious embarrassment of finishing the sentence.

"Yes," he said quickly adding, "And no."

She looked at him perplexed and that made him happy. Confused was a vast improvement over frightened.

"Is that some sort of riddle, Marshal?" she asked.

"Not at all," he said in a disconnected sort of way, "Those women are willing enough but it's not me they want. It's him."

"Who?"

"Wild Bill Hickok," he replied unable to completely rid his voice of the disgust.

"Is there really a difference?"

"I know it doesn't make sense," he said, "There've been times when I thought we were the same person and times when I wished we were."

Her face seemed to soften at the honesty of his words.

"What changed?"

"Nothing, everything, I don't know," he said defeated. He hadn't planned on opening up this much to her, "Maybe I do know and just can't say."

The silence settled between them like an unwelcome third to their party. They arrived at the Lassiter place and Jimmy began to unload the supplies with the only words being Faith's direction as to where he ought to put things. As he was unloading, he noticed the fence was in need of repair. He brought it to her attention.

"I was planning on fixing that this week," she told him.

"I'm right here," he stated the obvious; "I might as well take care of it."

"No. That's just too much to ask of you."

Jimmy was aware of the fear returning to her voice.

"You're not asking, I'm offering," he clarified, "You remind me of someone I knew once who showed me great kindness. Please."

She seemed intrigued and taken aback by his plea.

"I guess it will be alright. Honestly I don't know when I would get to it."

Jimmy wished her smile wasn't still attempting to mask fear of him but he'd take it. For some reason he couldn't place, it was suddenly very important to assuage her fear, to help her. He had an inkling there may be redemption in it.

As he worked and began to see progress, Faith came out to bring him some water. Jimmy was grateful and leaned against a post a moment to drink.

"Who was she?"

"Who?" he asked genuinely needing to know.

"The woman I remind you of?"

"She was a friend. I was a confused kid when we met and thought I'd fallen in love with her. If I had been a bit older, maybe…" his voice trailed away to wherever his gaze had gone.

"Do I look like her or something?" she asked.

"Not really," he replied flatly but then that wistful gaze returned and she knew he was seeing her, the woman of his memories, "You just have something about you, the way you carry yourself, hold your head, set your features. She'd been through a world of pain but she was so strong and all she showed the world was love."

In spite of herself, it seemed, Faith was letting down her defenses and beginning to believe this man was someone other than the great legend others thought him to be.

"What was her name?"

"Emma," those two syllables threatened to be his undoing. He hadn't ever really resolved all of his feelings for and about Emma and wasn't sure he ever would or even wanted to. But she had always been the measuring stick he'd held women up to.

Neither of them had noticed the clouds rolling in until the rain started to fall.

"I guess that's my cue to leave," Jimmy said looking to the clouds, "I'll come back tomorrow to finish this."

"It's starting to come down pretty hard," she said with a tone that said she wasn't sure what she was saying or why, "Maybe you should stay."

He wanted to stay, he really did and not for any improper reasons either. He shook his head and opened his mouth to decline her offer but a flash of lightning changed his mind.

"I guess I'd better."

The inside of the small home was cozy but the toys still scattered on the floor spoke of the ghosts that dwelled within and the lone living occupant's attempts to deny them. He waited for her to sit and then lowered himself into the other chair in the room. She took up her knitting and after a few minutes of quiet she looked at him and began to laugh.

"Begging your pardon," Jimmy said feeling more than a little insecure and possibly a tad defensive, "What is so funny?"

"I was so afraid of inviting you in," she answered wiping her eyes, "And there you sit looking like a saloon girl in church."

Jimmy couldn't help but laugh along. It had been a long time since he had felt so unsure of himself in any situation and even longer since he had shown it.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, "I've made you uncomfortable."

He listened to her tone expecting the frightened apologies of one who feared she had offended Wild Bill but, to his delight and relief, this was the genuine concern of someone who believed she had hurt the feelings of Jimmy Hickok.

"You haven't; not at all. I should be apologizing to you."

Somewhere inside he knew that his whole life had gone astray over apologies not offered. He'd said and done things before Longley and Marcus that might have done him in but they didn't. Every mistake before those had been reversible. He'd lost count the number of times he'd wished he could go back to the afternoon in Tompkins' store or the day in the saloon when he could have just let Cody be. But God or fate or what or whoever runs the show doesn't jump up and give you a tap on the shoulder to let you know which decisions are life-changing and which aren't. He was too young to know his luck wouldn't hold out. He knew it all and heaven help anyone who tried to tell him otherwise. He learned his lesson, albeit too late; the word "sorry" did not make a man weak. Lost in his musings, Jimmy did not immediately realize that Faith was speaking.

"Yoo-hoo…Marshal Hickok…"

He broke free of the trance the memories had placed him in.

"Hmm? What?"

She giggled and he thought it was a wonderful sound; one made even lovelier by the thought that she probably hadn't known much laughter of late.

"I was asking what in the world you had to apologize to me for?"

"I guess for being me," he blushed, "For scaring you so, for making you nervous."

"But remember," she said with the corners of her mouth threatening to betray her stern tone, "It's Wild Bill Hickok that scared me and made me nervous. He's not here, is he?"

They spent the rest of the day holed in from the rain as the storm clouds it seemed had decided to make camp right over their heads. As afternoon made a run for evening, Faith went to the kitchen to begin preparing supper and was surprised when Jimmy appeared and began helping to peel potatoes and chop vegetables. She looked at him in utter disbelief.

"You've never seen a man in a kitchen before?" he asked almost defensively.

"No," she answered simply, "I've heard of it but Aaron would have never."

Her eyes drifted out the window and past the rain as he knew they had countless times before. He could see the look that said she knew that there would be so silhouette approaching but also that her heart would never stop longing for it.

"That was his name? Aaron?"

She nodded and then tears began to fall, quietly at first as she endeavored to continue preparing the meal. But soon the sobs wracked her body and she had to lean against the counter for support. Jimmy could never abide a woman crying and enveloped her in his arms, realizing only after she was in his embrace that he still held a paring knife and carrot in his hand. He quickly set them down and leaned back against the counter to more fully take her weight. Her trust in him was so sacred at that moment that he admonished himself for delighting so in the clean, unperfumed scent of her hair.

At last her tears ebbed and she straightened, pushing lightly against his chest to signal that he could release her. Jimmy thought her hands may have lingered on his chest a moment or two longer than was necessary but he couldn't be sure. It might have just been wishful thinking.

Faith wiped her eyes with her sleeve and cleared her throat.

"Well now, we won't be eating at all if I don't get to this."

Jimmy wanted to take her in his arms again and tell her he didn't care if they ever ate, that she could let all of her pain and sorrow out, that he'd hold her forever if only she'd let him but she had put those feelings away for the time being and there was no opening that box back up until she was good and ready for it.

The pair ate in silence that was broken only by Faith as she looked out the window while clearing the dishes.

"The rain's still not letting up. You make yourself comfortable and I'll put on some tea."

He had thought to help her with the dishes or the tea or something but her words rejected the offer before it was even spoken.

Jimmy occupied himself with a magazine he found on the table where she kept her knitting. In time Faith emerged from the kitchen with a tray and the promised tea. She busied herself with pouring and the silence settled in again, uninvited. Jimmy was about to make some stupid weather related comment just to bring sound into the room when she spoke.

"How did you know this Emma?"

He blinked at her as if the very concept of speech was foreign to him, let alone the words she used.

"The one I remind you of?"

"Right," he smiled bashfully, "I used to ride for the Pony Express when there was such a thing. Emma ran the station I first worked out of. Well, she wasn't officially in charge but Emma ran things. She was mother, big sister and best friend to all of us."

"All of you?"

"The riders and even Teaspoon; he was the station master."

"That was a good time in your life, wasn't it?" she asked.

"I think it might have been the best time in my life."

As he said the words he knew there was no thinking about it and no might have been either, those were the best times.

"These other riders were your friends?"

"The only ones I ever had really," he said knowing the sad truth of what he said, "Closer to family really."

"Tell me about them."

He did. Cautiously at first and then he was off and running. It felt good to talk about them. He told her about Teaspoon's quirkiness and tendency for pontification and Cody's bravado that might have been conceit if he hadn't been able to back it up.

"Are you trying to tell me you are friends with Buffalo Bill Cody?"

"No," he smiled without a shred of deceit, "I was no more friends with Buffalo Bill than he was friends with Wild Bill. Those men didn't exist back then."

He told her about Kid and how they fought over nearly everything and yet were closer than brothers and how to this very day he didn't know the man's name. He spoke fondly of Lou and got a laugh when he told the story of finding out that Lou was actually Louise. He told her about Buck and then very sadly told her of Ike. And he shared how he felt when Emma left to marry Sam, how abandoned he had felt and then the guilt at his selfishness to begrudge that wonderful woman her chance at happiness.

"It's not that you didn't want her to be happy, Jimmy," she soothed, "You were just sad for the loss of her in your life."

He continued speaking of Rachel and ultimately how he met Noah and then the part he felt he'd played in Noah's death.

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have brought her. Noah didn't have to die like that."

"You couldn't have known."

Jimmy wanted to believe her but he knew he'd always carry that guilt.

So what are we thinking out there in reader land? I like Faith and I like who Jimmy is when he's with her. I think he likes himself better with her too. I feel bad for all she's been through but it was a rough place to live and stories like hers weren't rare. I like her spunk. I guess just let me know what you all are thinking. I'm still paying penance to the Jimmy who lives in my head so that I can face him again. stupid muses with their omniscience and all. If I didn't need them like the air I breathe I would banish them as Golum banished his evil self. But then I'd get too lonely and I just don't know what I'd do. Love you all my beautiful people who live in my computer and read my drivel.-J