Kid Cole and Sister Ruth were crossing the street to the hotel where they were staying when a thin, pale lady in her thirties suddenly fell down onto the dusty street and grabbed the hem of Ruth's skirt almost causing her to stumble.

Ruth was startled by it and so was Kid. He whirled Ruth away from the woman's grasp and demanded, "What in the world are you doing, lady?"

"I was only trying to be healed," the woman said, her tears creating trails on her dirt streaked face.

"Who am I? Jesus? Paul?" Ruth asked, alarm was still evident in her tone but it was also mingled with compassion. "My clothes hold no ability to heal."

"Please, Sister Ruth. Give me something that belongs to you. Just a fragment from your clothing. A button even. You won't miss it and I know I'll be healed."

"Jesus Christ is the healer. You have to have faith in Him, not me."

"But I'm desperate. I'm dying; I have to try it. I need healing now. I don't have time to wait on God."

"It just doesn't work that way. If you'll come—"

The woman didn't let her finish. She made a sudden, mad scramble to tear a piece of her clothing.

Kid, still holding onto Ruth, ran for the safety of the hotel. They beat the sick woman in because she had been on the ground and had to get up on her feet first to give chase.

They went quickly up to their room. From the window, they saw the woman being tossed out by one of the hotel staff. She screamed up at them and they moved away from the second story window to ensure they wouldn't be seen and add to her hysteria. Kid drew the curtain closed.

"Poor woman," said Ruth sadly. She dipped her handkerchief into a bowl of water and dabbed her neck both to cool and removed the grime caused by the dusty streets. "She just don't get it. That it's got nothing to do with me."

"Well, it's hard for me to have much sympathy for her when she acts like a crazy person, accosting people on the streets."

"I wish I could say that was the first time something like that's happened, but it ain't. She ain't the first to not understand faith healing, to think I'm more special than I am. A well-known name can be both a blessing and a curse."

It was a truth that Kid was well acquainted with. "Fame comes with a price."

August 1830

"Happy Anniversary, Ruth."

"Happy Anniversary, Kid."

"2 years," he said with a loving smile. "I'd wager there was some who thought we couldn't even make it a year because of our differences."

"Well, I guess we proved them wrong. These have been the happiest 2 years of my life."

"Mine too. If we were in town, I would take you out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate." They were somewhere out in Missouri not far from St. Louis. In fact, they'd probably reach it the following day if the map they were using could be trusted. It certainly wouldn't be today as stars began to appear one by one in the sky.

"I don't care about fancy restaurants. All I want is you," Ruth said, putting a hand on his knee and making circles evocatively.

He reached beside him and opened up his guitar case. He pulled out 2 glass goblets and handed one of them to her.

"Where in the world did you get these?" she asked with big eyes.

"I've got my ways," he said mysteriously. He poured a dark brown, steaming liquid into the cups.

"What is it?" she asked. She'd seen him messing around by the fire while she pulled out their quilts and got their horses situated, but she hadn't known what he was doing.

"Tea. I am trying to take advantage of you, but not with alcohol," he teased.

She grinned and took a sip. "Chicory tea. Not bad. I just can't believe you made it yourself." Then she asked, "They're not very practical, are they? The goblets, I mean. How long can they last in a bumpy wagon?"

"Long enough to finish our tea," he said with a smile. Then he kissed her soundly, making her forget about everything else but him. Their glasses of tea remained unfinished on the ground as he lowered her down onto the quilts.

sss

St. Louis, a gateway to the west, was a thriving city with stores and banks lining its streets and the population numbering in the thousands. Plenty of steamboats were docked in its port, the secret of its recent success, and men of various races could be seen loading or unloading them in the distance.

"We're down to next to nothing. We need flour, salt, sugar, and a whole host of other things," Kid said.

She checked the small wooden box where they kept their money. "Not many cash donations lately. We got a 5 dollar bill from Frankfort Kentucky and a dime and that's it."

"No worries. I'll check the wanted posters. A town of this size is bound to have a few outlaws to nab."

Kid pulled their wagon to a stop in front of one of the banks, seeing a collection of posters hanging on the outside of the building. He helped Ruth down and they went over to look at them.

"100 dollar reward for the return of three negro slaves. A man, woman, and a small child," Kid read.

There was more on the poster, but Ruth interrupted. "Not that one."

"Wouldn't dream of it and according to their descriptions, the child if examined will be found to have swelling. No wonder they ran."

Ruth bowed her head and prayed silently for their escape while Kid continued to look through the posters. "I don't believe this."

"What?" she said, eyes opening and looking for the poster he was speaking of.

He read the poster to her. "250 dollar reward for Kid Cole. A tall man of thin frame with the manners of a gentleman. Wears dark clothing and a flour sack over his head while committing robberies but is described by those who have seen him without it as having dark brown eyes, black hair, and thick brows. Wanted for robbing stagecoaches. Take care when apprehending him as he is known for his fast draw."

Ruth knew her mouth was hanging open, not very ladylike, but she was as shocked as he was.

"I've never robbed a stagecoach in my life," Kid said. "It's just not possible."

"Well, looky what we have here," said a voice from behind them.