Author: lily moonlight

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: NY

Hello! HUGE apologies for taking so long to update. I'm so sorry. It's been a very hectic few months for various reasons. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, if I forgot to reply or send the extra scene, please let me know. Thank you also to Marie for your review of my other stories, sorry I couldn't reply in person. Thank you, for help with this particular chapter to Ballettmaus and also to iluvcsi4ever, who pointed me in the right direction over a couple of things historically :)

True Grit

Jessica

"Miss Jessica!"

Don's voice, soundin' kinda' sharp, startles me. Turnin' round to face him, I'm even more startled at the exasperated look on his face and the way his arms are folded.

"I called your name twice before you answered me," he says, crookin' his eyebrows at me. "Plainly your attention's a way off from here. You realise you've been starin' outta that window for the last ten minutes near enough?" His face softens into concern as he looks at me. "Is everythin' all right? You must've been thinkin' about somethin' kinda – kinda' serious... " He breaks off to yawn, lookin' embarrassed at the size of it.

But he's right in a way, seein' as I'd been wonderin' exactly what the matter is with Miss Monroe and what I can do to help her. I'm real worried about her. Tryin' to make light of things though, seein' as he's got enough to think about at the moment, I give a little laugh and tell him I was just watchin' what was happenin' out in the street.

"Saw Doctor Hawkes and Miss Higgins, partin' just outside the Hammerbacks' place about five minutes ago." Smilin' quickly at him, I continue with a question that I know is gonna take his curiosity away from my thoughts, "Guess the doctor's gone to see Mr Taylor and Miss Stella, do you think? To check up on them?"

Don nods, lookin' grave. "Likely he has. Said he'd be doin' that this mornin', after he'd been to see Messer."

Feel kinda' thoughtless now for remindin' him of that. It's plain he's still badly shaken by yesterday's events, not least the burnin' of the saloon and the narrow escape Mr Taylor and Miss Stella had. Bein' held hostage by that Billy Baines ain't gonna have done him no good either. And though he ain't said anythin', I sure ain't forgotten about that. Reckon if Ma and Pa hadn't had such a tight grip on me when we were all standin' listenin' to that brute talkin' on and on and on, I'd have tried to take him on myself. Guess I was that angry yesterday, I didn't even consider that kind of action would've likely gotten me killed. When someone you care for real deeply is in trouble, sensible thoughts kinda' disappear in a puff of smoke.

But Don's safe and well this mornin' and so am I.

Pushin' the memories of yesterday outta my head, I wonder out loud how Miss Stella and Mr Taylor are gonna be feelin' this mornin'.

"Wouldn't like to imagine," Don says, pickin' up his mug and swirlin' the dregs round inside it, a troubled look in his eyes as he goes on to tell me about the state both of them were in last night.

"They'll be all right, Don," I tell him, seein' him in need of some reassurance himself.

"Yeah, I know, I know... they'll be all right, long as they're together." He sighs and rubs a hand across his eyes. "Reckon the best thing for them is each other's company..."

Sittin' down next to him, I look at him keenly. "Don't reckon either Mr Taylor or Miss Stella could have a better friend than you."

He shrugs, lookin' embarrassed. "I'm only doin' what anyone would. It ain't no trouble to do things for folk you care about."

"Sure it ain't," I reply. "But that still don't mean everyone would take the trouble to do all you've done for your friends."

"They'd do the same for me," he says, meetin' my gaze.

"Yes, yes they would," I answer. "Because you're a good man and a good friend and..." For a moment I almost lose my voice and the next words I say are whispered, "And I don't reckon there are many men better than you..."

"And I don't reckon there are any women better than you, Miss Jessica," he says, his voice low, a blush creepin' over his face.

Same as it's creepin' over mine. Even more so once I realise how our hands have joined. We've both become aware of where this sorta' talk could lead to, and it's kinda' scared us.

So neither of us say anythin' more and our gazes drop from each other's as our hands part slowly, self-consciously. We sit there, silent, occupied with our own thoughts; me with my hands clasped together in front of me feelin' my cheeks cool slowly, Don with his eyes fixed on his plate before he starts on the last few items of food he's got on it.

I find myself thinkin' again about poor Miss Stella in particular. I ain't able to imagine what she must feel like. To lose her home and her business, all her possessions... why, it don't even bear imaginin'. What she's gonna do now, I ain't sure. Likely she ain't even sure herself. Guess she won't have had time to think about it or get over the shock of it all.

Reckon I'd like to do somethin' to help her: she's a lady I'm real admirin' of and someone who ain't ever hesitant when it comes to helpin' other folks. There's gotta be somethin' I can do. Maybe even givin' her a couple of my spare gowns 'cause I reckon we're both about the same size. Yes, that'd be somethin' real practical and useful to her. I can take them over to her later today.

After decidin' that, I look up at Don to tell him what I'm gonna do, and realise he's eyein' up the piece of toast I got left on my plate.

"You still want that?" he asks me, lookin' longingly at the toast.

Can't help but grin, even though it's mean of me to disappoint him. "Sure do," I say. "Girls have gotta' keep their strength up, too, same as the men folk."

He kinda' huffs at that and wipes the crust of his last piece of bread round his plate, makin' sure he's collected every last crumb and bit of drippin' on it.

While he's engaged in that, I eat my toast and try and think of somethin' real practical and useful to help Miss Monroe, too. She was in a real bad way first thing this mornin' when I went to see her. Found her lookin' like she'd cried herself to sleep and cried herself awake. Didn't know what to say when I went in and saw her all tear-stained and red eyed; tears ain't somethin' I know how to deal with. Ain't much for them myself, kinda' scornful of them in fact. Don't condemn other folks for sheddin' them, sure, but they ain't somethin I feel happy about dealin' with.

Still, I did what I could, gave Miss Monroe a hug, kinda' awkwardly but she appreciated the gesture. And I was pleased that she didn't shed no more tears in my presence. Told me that she'd be down and dressed as soon as she could be which was about an hour ago, just before Don arrived.

As if he's been readin' my mind, Don breaks into my thoughts to ask if Lindsay's gonna show this mornin'.

"I'm hopin' so," I tell him. "She promised she'd be down to eat."

"Was thinkin' she'd want to go see Messer soon as she could," he says thoughtfully. "Lindsay's the person he's gonna want to see first."

I nod in sympathy and decide I'll head on upstairs to check on Miss Monroe soon as I've cleared up. Ma and Pa ain't gonna be happy to see a breakfast table left as untidy as this. And I know just the man to help me do it.

Pushin' my chair back, I start collectin' up all the used crockery from the table and Don jumps up to help immediately, without me even askin'. Which is only what I expected of him, knowin' his habits from previous times I've fed him, but it's still real good of him. It sure ain't every man who'd take it upon themselves to help a woman clear a table.

Concerns me that while we're clearin' up together, Don seems to be findin' it hard to stay awake. Almost swallows me again with one of his yawns! Don't surprise me though. As he told me, he'd been awake several hours and gone on a recce round the town before he arrived here. By the time tonight arrives, I reckon he's gonna be worn out.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" I ask him as even he looks somewhat surprised at the size of the yawns he's just produced.

"I didn't... didn't sleep so bad," he just about manages to say before another yawn splits his face. "Got a few hours. More than Mac anyhow, I reckon. If he'd only get a few hours' sleep, it'd do him the world of good."

"I reckon some sleep would do you the world of good, too." I quirk my eyebrows at Don.

He shrugs, kinda sheepishly, but I refrain from makin' any comments. Instead, soon as we've tidied up the table, I offer him another cup of coffee which he accepts real enthusiastically. Guess it won't hurt to wait a few more minutes before I go check on Miss Monroe. Almost as fond of coffee as he is of cookies, is my Deputy. Why, I've known him drink seven or eight mugs of coffee in the space of only a couple of hours.

Don't take me long to brew him another mug and he's soon swiggin' it down with enjoyment. After settin' it on the table, half drunk, he looks at me with a twinkle in his eye. Almost miraculously revived. Amazin' what a cup of coffee can do for a man...

"Another piece of toast and a few more spoonfuls of grits wouldn't go amiss to accompany that real delicious cup of coffee, Miss Angell," he grins, near enough flutterin' his eyelashes. I know he knows that's a look I find hard to resist. And like so many times before, I ain't able to resist him.

The amount of food Don's eaten so far this mornin' for breakfast (and I got a suspicion it weren't the first breakfast he's had today...) would have fed most folk for a day. But the near bottomless pit that Don Flack calls his stomach ain't easily filled. Which is why, I guess, I don't mind tryin' to fill it for him. Maybe I even got a kind of feelin' of it bein' a challenge; to see if I'm gonna be the one that's finally, one day, able to make Don Flack declare that he ain't able to eat another crumb.

As I think this, and Don settles back in his chair with his plate in front of him and his knife and fork gripped in both hands, showin' he means business with the food that's about to be placed in front of him, Miss Monroe enters the kitchen.

Although she's fully dressed, has arranged her hair real nice and got a little bit of make up on her face, it's plain to see she ain't in the best of health. 'Cause it's obvious that it's rouge on her cheeks givin' her a blush of colour and that underneath it she's still real pale. And the powder she's dabbed on don't conceal the traces of tears she's been cryin'. But I don't say anythin' of course. Wouldn't be fair.

Don, bein' the gentleman he is, don't say nothin' either, simply stands up as soon as she walks in and pulls a chair out for her. Tells her, too, that he left her fiancé sleepin' peacefully, even offers to fetch her a plate and mug, get her some breakfast, too.

After hesitatin' a moment and glancin' at me, Miss Monroe accepts his offer and sits down. Soon as I've cut a couple of extra slices off of the loaf for her, I start toastin' them over the fire while Don busies himself takin' care of the grits on the stove top. I try startin' up a conversation, askin' Miss Monroe how it would suit her to walk on over to see Mr Messer soon as we've all finished breakfast.

"Me and Miss Jessica will accompany you over there," Don adds, "I know Danny's gonna be real pleased to see you." His voice is kindly and she gives him a tiny smile in return and murmurs that that'd be ever so nice and she's lookin' forward to seein' her fiancé.

It ain't hard to guess that worry about him was the cause of some of her tears, but there's somethin' else troubling her, makin' her pale and sickly, or I miss my guess. What that trouble is though, I really ain't sure. Maybe it's gonna take someone like Dr Hawkes to find that out.

As Don serves Miss Monroe, and himself, with toast and grits, I ask her, real gently, if maybe she'd like the Doctor to come out and see her, seein' as she was sick last night.

Soon as I've said that, a stubborn look comes over her face. "I'm fine this mornin', and I was only a little sick last night," she says. "Guess it was all the worry of everythin' yesterday..." her lip trembles for a moment but she gets control over it after a second and looks mutinously at me, darin' me, or Don, to argue with her.

"Well then," I say, determined, nonetheless, to do somethin' to help her, or see if I can find someone who can, "How about seein' Martha Hammerback? She's the next best person after Dr Hawkes for askin' about matters of health."

For a moment, Miss Monroe stares at me, and I can almost see the emotions warrin' on her face. Finally she looks down at her plate and moves a few pieces of food around with her fork before she murmurs somethin' about how she'll see, maybe later, after she's seen Danny. Then she returns her gaze to me and I know that's the end of the conversation, I'm gonna have to be satisfied with that.

Well, there ain't much more I can think to say to her, but Don steps into the breach and keeps the conversation light while they're both eatin'. There ain't much that Miss Monroe actually eats, but at least she does get some food down her. I keep a close eye on that. Although, it's gotta be said, she don't seem to take much enjoyment from it. Could swear once or twice that there's a grimace on her face as she swallows. Likely her stomach ain't as well as she claims it is.

Don't take long before she lays down her knife and fork and sits back in her chair, gives me a sorta' smile and thanks me for breakfast. I'm aware she's left a piece of toast on her plate and few pieces of potato, but I ain't the only one aware of them. Plain to see, Don's got his eye, and appetite, fixed on them.

Sure enough, he clears his throat and asks, real polite and nonchalantly, as if he's only just happened to notice, that if Miss Monroe don't want the rest of her food, he'd be more than happy to eat it for her.

Gotta suppress a chuckle at that, seein' the expression of feigned innocent helpfulness on my Deputy's face. He ain't foolin' me.

"You're welcome to it, Don," Miss Monroe answers, with just a trace of amusement in her eyes that's real good to see. Guess she knows Don's appetite, too; or else Mr Messer is of a similar way of thinkin'.

Catchin' sight of the grin on my face, Don states loftily as he helps himself to the food, "Hate to see good food goin' to waste..."

"Sure," I say, hidin' my smile behind my hand. Don's too busy demolishin' the piece of toast to notice though.

That piece of toast disappears in seconds, which is kinda' funny to see. Even Miss Monroe looks impressed.

While Don brushes the crumbs off of his shirt, I find Miss Monroe's coat for her before runnin' upstairs to fetch the gowns for Miss Stella, wrappin' them up in some brown paper and string to keep them nice.

Find out when I get downstairs that while I was doin' that, Don washed up all the breakfast dishes that we'd cleared off the table earlier. Leastways, he'd done his version of washin' up, which involves dippin' the dishes and cutlery in and out the water and hopin' for the best. No matter, I appreciate the thought.

When we're all wrapped up warm and cosy, I have a quick check round to make sure we've left everythin' clean and tidy enough for Ma and Pa before we walk out.

All of us keep up a brisk pace along Main Street, not wantin to dawdle in this kinda' cold. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins, so we keep movin' and we're at Don's lodgings in no time at all.

He walks in first and calls to Mr Messer. It takes a moment or two but then a faint voice, soundin' sorta' hoarse answers us, sayin' we can come up.

"I'll wait for the two of you down here." I step towards the kitchen door, after I've patted Miss Monroe's arm, havin' seen the look in her eyes. "You both go on up."

She smiles, lookin' the happiest I've seen her in days, and passes in front of Don at his gesture to go ahead and the two of them head on up.

I've only just got myself settled in a chair when I hear the sound of Don's boots comin' back down the stairs.

"Everything's fine," he says, enterin' the room and anticipatin' my question before I even ask it. "Messer's happy to see his girl and it's put a smile back on his face. She's good for him and that's a fact."

It's plain that it's been good for Don, too to see his friend happy. He and Mr Messer are real good pals and I know it's taken a lot out of Don to see him so troubled.

But he ain't the kinda' man who'd ever complain about worryin' on behalf of his friends. No, he just gets on with helpin' them in whatever way he can.

Don comes further into the room. "Lindsay's gonna see to him gettin' up and gettin' some breakfast."

"So we're gonna leave them both here?" I ask. "You reckon they'll be all right?"

"Yeah, they're good," he says with a tired sorta' smile. "Guess we'd best go see how Mac and Stell are farin', huh? Now I know Messer and Lindsay are safe for the time bein'."

"Sure. I'm lookin' forward to seein' them myself," I say, standin' up and movin' towards the door. Same time as I do that, Don steps forward and the two of us end up sorta' collidin', which means Don's gotta clutch hold of me round the waist to stop me from stumblin'.

Feelin' flustered, I pick up the parcel of gowns from the floor speakin' all in a rush, tellin' Don that I'm real sorry and should watch where I step, 'cause I can be ever so clumsy at times...

But he catches hold of my arm and smiles at me, real soft. "You're anythin' but clumsy. A real graceful lady is what you are. And seein' as you are, may I have the honour of escortin' you over to the Hammerbacks', Miss Jessica?" He offers me his arm with a smile in his eye and feelin' suddenly shy, but pleased, I tell him it'd be my pleasure and with our arms linked, we leave the house.

Back out in the street, there seem to be a few more folk than there were earlier, but it's still kinda' quiet and sober in town. Understandable. Yesterday's events shocked every last one of us Hattanville folks...

It's a strange kinda' thing though, 'cause as I think that, I realise that yesterday, when we were all held in the saloon, I remember feelin' for the first time that I really was a part of this town, that we were all kinda' in the situation together. Pa's fond of sayin' pretty often that every cloud has a silver linin'; maybe this time I understand what he means. Maybe the silver linin' of yesterday was that we all stood together, that we're all stronger together and we know for sure that Hattanville ain't a town to go down so easy.

But, well, that's just a thought. There probably ain't so many folk thinkin' about things that way today. Certainly not any of the folks gathered round the remains of the saloon, just standin' and starin'. There's a real mixture of expressions on their faces: disbelief, mostly; sadness; shock; anger even in some of them.

Neither of us want to linger, Don especially don't want to. I cast a quick glance at the remains, all pitiful in the snow, and look away. Seems suddenly kinda' terrifying how fast things change; how somethin' can be there one day and gone the next. Makes you feel you gotta look around you and make sure you make the most of everythin' you got...

I glance at Don then, but he's kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead of him, and I don't know what he's thinkin'. But then he turns to me and judgin' by the look in his eyes, I get an inklin' that maybe he was havin' the same kinda' thoughts I was.

He don't say anythin' though. All he does is grip my arm a little tighter and we quicken our steps. Couple of folk call out a good mornin' to us which we answer as brief as we can without bein' rude and we're soon outside the Hammerbacks'.

It's Mr Hammerback who opens the door to us and welcomes us inside with a smile, drawin' us through to the livin' room and the fire that's blazin' real comfortingly in the hearth. Mr Taylor's sittin' on the couch, one leg raised up on a stool in front of him, and he greets us pleasantly, though there's a worried look in his face.

Few moments later Mrs Hammerback hurries through from the kitchen and beams in delight at the sight of Don.

"Oh, Mr Flack!" she exclaims, huggin' him tightly before she releases him and holds him back from her, claspin' his forearms and studyin' him intently. "I was that worried about you when you didn't show up here for your breakfast as usual, my love, worried you might have gone and lost your appetite and been pining away."

It's kinda' difficult for me to hide a smile at the idea of Don pinin' away and losin' his appetite, but for the sake of Mrs Hammerback's feelings, as she's lookin' real serious I manage it. If I ain't much mistaken though, there's a smothered sort of cough from either Mr Hammerback or Mr Taylor, I ain't able to tell for sure.

Don reassures Mrs Hammerback, however. Tellin' her that he's sorry she was worried and that he's fine and could even manage a small somethin' to eat now, but only if it ain't too much trouble...

"Of course it's no trouble, my love!" Mrs Hammerback says, lookin' delighted at the thought of bein' able to feed him. "I'll fetch you something right away to take the edge off your hunger."

Considerin' the amount Don ate for breakfast, he's gotta be askin' out of politeness rather than hunger. I'm sure of it. Guess he don't want to disappoint Mrs Hammerback who I reckon thinks of him as a son. Somethin' Don ain't got no objection to.

After embracin' me and leadin' us both to seats close to the fire, Mrs Hammerback bustles into the kitchen. So now it's me, Don, Mr Hammerback and Mr Taylor all sittin', not quite knowin' what to say to each other. Mr Taylor ain't a man for much conversation at any time and he's lookin' sorta' distracted. Which I guess is somethin' to do with Miss Stella's absence. Don asks the question and gains the answer that she's upstairs, bein' checked over by Dr Hawkes.

As he answers, Mr Taylor shifts about a bit, adjustin' his leg and Don raises an eyebrow.

"You finally takin' heed of advice and restin' properly, or has your leg been tied to the stool so you ain't able to move and get yourself into further trouble?" he asks Mr Taylor in an impertinent sorta' way.

"It's just while I'm waitin' for Stella." Mr Taylor looks dignified, refusin' to rise to his Deputy Sheriff's teasin'. "Hawkes suggested I keep it raised for a while to give it a chance to rest."

Don smirks. "I'm guessin' that your idea of 'a while' and the Doc's are two wildly different things. Same as your idea of a good night's sleep is different from most folks'..."

Mr Taylor remains straight-faced, merely shruggin' in answer and Don soon gives up teasin' him, asks instead how Miss Stella is this mornin'.

"Lookin' better," Mr Taylor answers, frownin' for a moment. "But she still ain't her usual self, not by a long way. Got the idea into her head that she wants to go and look at the saloon this mornin'."

He and Don exchange a pointed look and it ain't hard to tell that Don's as disapprovin' of that idea as Mr Taylor is. Can't say that I understand myself why Miss Stella would want to do that either, but then, well, I guess perhaps it's somethin' she needs to do. Needs to kinda' face it and get it over with maybe.

Silence falls between us, but before it's got a chance to become an awkward one, Mrs Hammerback reappears with a tray holdin' a plate of thickly sliced cake and mugs of coffee; a sight that lights up Don's face and causes Mr Hammerback to lean forward in his chair and rub his hands together eagerly.

But it's Don who's offered the plate of cake first, and I'm interested to see that Mr Hammerback don't seem too pleased about that, especially when Don helps himself to one of the largest slices. Could even say that he gives Don somethin' of a disgruntled look. Strange...

Though I ain't really wantin' cake at this time of day, seein' as it ain't even quite 11 o'clock yet, I take a small slice to please Mrs Hammerback. Mr Taylor looks like he wants to refuse, too, but takes a piece all the same. That only leaves one piece of cake on the plate, which is sorta' skinny and Mr Hammerback don't look too impressed about that. Still, he says nothin' - nothin' I can hear anyhow and takes what's offered him.

Just as we're eatin' our cake, or swallowin' it down in a matter of mouthfuls in Don's case, Miss Stella comes down the stairs followed by Dr Hawkes. She looks sorta' heavy-eyed and lackin' colour in her face, but otherwise she ain't much different from her usual self. Maybe not as smart in her appearance as we're used to, seein' as her hair's loose round her shoulders and ain't quite dry and the gown she's wearin' hangs sorta loosely on her. What does strike me though, is the similarity to Miss Monroe's appearance this mornin', which sure is unusual. But I guess both ladies have had a real rough time.

Moment he sees Miss Stella, Mr Taylor looks about ready to jump up outta his seat. A frown from the Doctor stops him and he stays in his seat, kinda' restlessly mind.

Miss Stella smiles at the Sheriff , but at the sight of Don and me, stops at the foot of the stairs, one hand grippin' the newel post, lookin' what I'd call uncertain.

"Stell..." Don starts, gettin' up with a sorta' question in his eyes. "How you doin'?"

He sets his plate down on his chair and takes a step towards her, approachin' her carefully. Knowin' the sorta' easy-goin', teasin' relationship they got usually, bein' near enough like brother and sister to each other, I can tell just how worried Don is for her.

But a smile, just a real small one, appears on Miss Stella's face and she closes the distance between them, takin' hold of his hand and givin' it a squeeze.

"I ain't so bad," she says, castin' a quick look at Doctor Hawkes who's waitin' patiently behind her on the stairs.

Don gives her a relieved smile after lookin' at her, tryin' to decide if she's speakin' the truth, before he guides her over to the couch where she sits down next to Mr Taylor. "Real glad to hear that," he says, glancin' over at Dr Hawkes. "And I guess the Doc's gonna agree with you, huh?"

The Doctor himself speaks up at that, remindin' both Miss Stella and Mr Taylor that they should keep an eye on how they're breathin', drink plenty of water and at the first sign of any problems, to call him.

Reckon there's real authority in Dr Hawkes, as though he's a mild-mannered gentleman, even the Sheriff and Miss Stella seem to take heed of what he says and don't do any arguin'. All of which is much to Don's satisfaction, though give him his due, he's got enough wisdom not to say anythin'. Gotta admit, I'm surprised to see both of them lookin' as well as they do, considerin' all they've been through.

Mrs Hammerback offers to fetch the Doctor somethin' hot to drink and a slice of cake, but he refuses politely after thankin' her. "My apologies for rushing off and leaving you all." He puts his hat on as he speaks and reaches for his coat, "But I got a few more folks to go check up on. Would have been here sooner but I couldn't leave a dying man in his last hour on earth, even..." he pauses for a moment, catchin' Don's eye and somethin' unspoken seems to pass between them, "Even such a one as Billy Baines..."

There's a moment's silence as we take in what he's said.

"He's dead?" Mr Hammerback asks finally, lookin' gravely at Dr Hawkes.

"Died shortly before 10 o'clock this morning," is the Doctor's brief reply.

"I'm glad to hear it!" Mrs Hammerback bursts out, standin' up suddenly, her face all white and red and her eyes sparklin'. "It may be a wicked thing for me to say, and the dear Lord forgive me for doing so, but..."

She stops, almost pantin' for breath, lookin' round at us all and embarrassment crosses her face as she sees everyone's eyes on her. Then, defiance appears in her eyes. "Well, maybe it's not a Christian thing to say, but it's the truth and I'm a woman for speaking the truth, uncomfortable though it may be. He was a wicked, wicked man and if he's dead now, well, I for one am not sorry."

Then she gives a sob, covers her face with her apron and hurries out of the room.

Mr Hammerback is up and after her immediately, leavin' the rest of us in somethin' of a shocked silence. I ain't ever seen Mrs Hammerback so upset. Always seems the kinda' woman that nothin' would ever trouble. But I understand her way of feelin'. Though I ain't sayin' it aloud, I reckon I'm glad, too; glad that man ain't gonna trouble another soul no more...

After a moment, Dr Hawkes clears his throat, murmurs his farewells and hurries out of the door and all of us left sittin', still ain't able to think of a single word to say.

Mr Taylor and Miss Stella stare at each other, Mr Taylor's hand holdin' tight to Miss Stella's.

"I ain't sorry neither," she says in a low voice, breakin' the silence as she glances at me and Don. "I ain't glad, but I sure ain't sorry."

Don speaks next and the fierceness in his voice kinda' scares me. "Well, I ain't gonna say what I think of that... that low down coward," he spits, "'Cause with ladies present, it sure ain't polite, but hell's too good a place for someone like him..." He breaks off, shakin' his head and I reach across and lay my hand on his, just for a moment. Lookin' gratefully at me, he lays his hand across mine and that touch between us, even if it's only real brief, brings us comfort.

The Hammerbacks soon return from the kitchen, with Mrs Hammerback dabbin' at her eyes with her apron, but lookin' brighter. After glancin' at the clock, in a voice that's tryin' too hard to sound cheerful, she says that's seein' as it ain't far from noon, we should all stay and have some lunch in a little while, addin', with a meaningful glance at Miss Stella, that there's no harm stayin' indoors a while longer.

Don and Mr Hammerback look pleased about the mention of lunch, though I gotta point out to Don, in a quiet voice so as not to offend Mrs Hammerback that it really ain't so long since he ate breakfast, and cake.

"That was nothin' but a small snack for elevenses," he hisses, just before Miss Stella speaks up.

"I ain't wantin' to be rude," she starts, glancin' between both the Hammerbacks, "but..." she stops, clutchin' Mr Taylor's hand still as he frowns slightly at her.

Mr Hammerback looks keenly at her over the top of his spectacles, a real kindly and understandin' look in his eyes. "My dear, you could never be rude to us," he says. "I know you are eager to view your saloon."

"Guess the longer I leave it, the harder it's gonna be to face it, so it's maybe gonna be best facin' it as soon as possible. Reckon now's as good a time as any..." she says, givin' him a grateful look.

Mrs Hammerback clasps her hands together. "But, Miss Stella," she begins, near enough pleadin', "Surely you aren't still thinking of going out there? Even after what Dr Hawkes said to you about taking care of your breathing and drinking plenty of water? How can you make sure of that by going outside? Stay indoors, my lovely, we'll have lunch in a couple of hours and then maybe after that you could think again about it."

Miss Stella shakes her head and a determined look appears in her face. "Martha, I gotta do this..." She clasps Mr Taylor's hand real tight as she speaks and he looks at her with a mix of emotions on his face; can see he wants to do what's best for her, but he maybe ain't sure what is best for her.

Glancin' at each other, both Don and me feel like we're intrudin' on somethin' as we sit back and try and make ourselves invisible while the discussion goes back and forth between Miss Stella, Mr Taylor and the Hammerbacks.

It finally ends with Mrs Hammerback succeedin' in persuadin' Miss Stella to come back for lunch once she's viewed the Saloon, and Miss Stella agreein' to borrow a shawl and a scarf - so she don't go gettin' a chill, in Mrs Hammerback's words.

By the time Mrs Hammerback's been up and down the stairs twice ('cause she forgot the shawl the first time), it ain't difficult to see that Miss Stella's gettin' kinda' agitated. Especially when Mrs Hammerback mentions somethin' about hair pins. The hand Mr Taylor places on her back, just for a moment, seems to calm her though and she stops twistin' her fingers together quite so much as she sighs and catches his eye.

Feelin' that I want to help as well, I offer her the parcel of dresses I've brought her and I'm real pleased to see how happy she is with them when she's opened the parcel while we're waitin' for Mrs Hammerback.

"They ain't much," I say, feelin' just the smallest bit embarrassed at how grateful she is for what really ain't much more than a few worn dresses. Makes me realise again that she's lost everythin' she owned.

Finally, once both of them have got coats, gloves and mufflers on and Miss Stella's complained that she can hardly breathe with all the scarves she's been made to wear, includin' a shawl round her head in place of her hair bein' pinned up, Mrs Hammerback's almost ready to let them leave.

"You're staying here of course, aren't you, my loves?" she turns to me and Don, a real anxious look on her face, givin' me an insight into just how worried she is about the Sheriff and Saloon Owner.

"It'd be our pleasure," I tell her honestly and she smiles, though it's clear she's still troubled.

"Don't you worry, Martha," Don reassures her. "And," he continues, lookin' cheekily at the Sheriff and Saloon Owner, "Take care of yourselves out there. There ain't no need for you to be out for hours. If necessary, I'll send out a posse to search for you if you're gone too long."

"That ain't gonna be necessary," Mr Taylor says, givin' his Deputy a narrow-eyed look, as if to remind him that he is the Deputy, and not the Sheriff.

Don smirks. "I know what the two of you are like when it comes to findin' yourselves in danger..."

"Now then, Mr Flack," Mrs Hammerback interrupts, a glint in her eye as she attempts to offer Mr Taylor a scarf; an attempt that fails, "Don't you be cheeky. Mr Taylor's much older than you, and wiser, too no doubt."

Don attempts to disguise his snort of amusement with a cough at the expression on Mr Taylor's face at bein' called 'much older' than his Deputy, and I gotta admit, I turn away and cover my smile with my hand for a moment.

But I gotta give Don a nudge in his side when he sniggers as Mrs Hammerback warns the Sheriff to take care breathin' in case he hurts his ribs again and asks him if he wants to borrow the cane that was Mr Hammerback's Papa's for his bad leg.

As polite as he can, Mr Taylor refuses, even though Miss Stella don't hesitate to point out that he's more injured than she is and if she's gotta take the precaution of wearin' half a dozen scarves, then he oughtta at least accept the cane.

"Besides," she adds, linkin' her arm through his. "I reckon a cane's gonna suit you. You'll look real smart and distinguished."

Soon as she's said that, Mr Taylor ain't so set again the idea of a cane and it's duly fetched by Mr Hammerback.

I wonder if a cane would be somethin' to suit Don? No, I reckon I'm more than happy with him the way he is...

At last, with various instructions and warnings issued by Mrs Hammerback, who still seems real reluctant to let the two of them go, Mr Taylor and Miss Stella leave the house.

All of us stand at the front door; Don with his hand on the small of my back, Mr Hammerback with his arm round his wife, watchin' the Sheriff and his lady walk down the steps and onto the street. When he's closed the door, Mr Hammerback wanders off to his office, a little sadly, while Mrs Hammerback heads to her kitchen, shakin' her head as she goes, Don in tow after glancin' at me with a soft smile.

So there's only me left to stand at the window. Watchin' as the figures of Mr Taylor and Miss Stella, arm in arm, make their way slowly down Main Street towards the wreck of the saloon. Suddenly, I feel kinda' anxious about them both myself; out there in the snow with nothin' to welcome them except the ruins of Miss Stella's home. Kinda' catches at me; fills me with a kinda' sadness, but at the same time, a real thankfulness that when I leave here, I know my home and my Ma and Pa are gonna be waitin' safe for me.

Thank you for reading! As always, I'd love to know what you think :) Extra scenes as usual for reviewers! Lily x