Author's note. I really struggled about the character I'm introducing in this chapter, who is inspired by my daddy, whom I miss dearly. I changed my mind three times before I decided I'd actually do that and I'm still conflicted. I changed the character's last name because I wanted to honor the memory of the great Italian film director Sergio Leone ('The Good, the Bad and the Ugly', 'Once Upon a Time in the West', 'A Fistful of Dollars', etc.). My father was a huge admirer of Leone's work, they were more or less the same age, were from the same town (Rome, Italy), and shared the first name. Although under very different circumstances, my father had all the characteristics, physical and moral, described in the chapter.

Chapter 12

From his table, Sergio witnessed the whole scene.

A man made his appearance inside the saloon. He was tall, unshaven, greasy locks of his dirty, too long hair falling wildly across his forehead. And visibly drunk. At the same time, the young marshal deputy – a boy no more than eighteen Sergio had already seen around – was walking out.

Fatally, the two bumped into each other.

"Why don't you look where you're going?" The drunkard asked brusquely.

"I'm… I'm sorry," the boy apologized, making another step forward. But he never made it to the batwing doors, as the madman seized his arm with both hands and hurled him back inside, making him bump into the counter.

"I think you owe me a drink!" he spluttered angrily.

The young man sighed. "You're drunk," he noticed with disgust.

"Oh oh, oh, maybe so, maybe so," the man confirmed nodding, baring his teeth in a wild, hateful grin. "Could I have had me so much drink I can't handle a biiig man like you?" He asked, showing how big with his open arms. "So, if you ain't just wearing that gunbelt to hold up your badge, you and me is gonna step outside," he challenged, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, his grin widening, his eyes shining maliciously.

The boy obviously didn't want that confrontation. "Excuse me," he said, his eyes low, starting to walk away. But, he hadn't the time to take a step: the drunkard hit him full force across the face with the back of his hand. The boy fell down to the floor and, while he was there on his hands and knees, the drunkard kicked him hard in his stomach, his long arms outstretched for balance.

Sergio wasn't looking for trouble, but he couldn't sit back and do nothing any longer. He tossed the chair aside and dropped to the boy, helped him on his feet. As he prepared to strike his first blow, the drunkard drew his gun. "Stay out of this, cowboy," he threatened.

"Drop it," a calm voice commanded. The drunkard turned his head to realize he was on the wrong end of Marshal Fred Sawyer's gun.

What Nick didn't know about his foreman was that the man's name wasn't McNally, but Leonetti. Sergio Leonetti, born in Italy but come to America more years ago than he cared to remember. Unlike most immigrants, he hadn't come to America to escape poverty, but to satisfy his lively curiosity. It had been his precise choice. His family belonging to the middle class, Sergio had had a good education. A quick learner, a short while after his arrival he had acquired an excellent command of the language and, thanks to the fact that he didn't have the looks of an immigrant with his fair hair, light blue eyes, body structure and the strength of an athlete, he had been spared from the discrimination and prejudice many other Italians had suffered.

From Ellis Island, he arrived in California eager to take part in the gold rush a year before California was even a state. He was one of the hundreds of thousands of people known as the "forty-niners". Within just one year, most of the gold on the surface was picked clean and, after a couple of more years, the gold reserves got thinner and harder to reach. By 1853, Sergio's career as a gold seeker was over.

He arrived in the town of Jubilee looking for a job when Marshal Frank Sawyer saved his life in a saloon. Although he had never fired his gun if not in self-defense and had never strayed far from the right side of the law, Sergio's skills with a gun had gained him a reputation, and several enemies, Jack Floyd included. Sawyer recognized Sergio's potential right away, nerves of steel that allowed him to handle any situation and at the same time, a fast draw and a deadly shot. Sergio signed up as deputy and since then, he put his skills at the service of the United States Marshals Service. Together, he and Sawyer defeated the infamous Simpson Gang and their deeds of valor became legendary.

One dreadful day, Sergio was out of town to deliver a prisoner, when Jack Floyd and Sabrina Lynn came to settle the old score. But they found Frank Sawyer, instead.

From Frank Sawyer's last words, as he was dying in his arms, Sergio figured out who had pulled the trigger. Sergio's hot Italian blood boiled, thirsting not for revenge, but for justice.

I'm just this close. I know she's up to something. A leopard can't change its spots.

Working for Nick as an undercover agent, Sergio had found he was a natural born cowboy. As with many other things that seemed to come naturally to him, he just happened to be good at it and had earned the title of foreman in a very short time. But, he wasn't a cowboy. He wasn't a rancher. He wasn't anything like Tom Barkley. That man had been a real pioneer and had been able to build an empire.

You can't expect a lady like Victoria Barkley to lead such a life as yours. Don't think she would follow you or would accept being the wife of a humble lawman, whose life is constantly in danger. Or the wife of an Italian immigrant.

Sergio sighed. At the moment, he just needed to get the job done.

Two attentive, concerned gray eyes followed the stranger who lived under her roof, cross the foyer and rush upstairs in nightgown and boots. In her own nightgown, Victoria silently went back to the living room and stood by the fireplace, watching without seeing the smoldering ashes.

She had spent most of the night thinking about the kiss she and McNally had shared, the scene playing over and over in her head. She hadn't known her heart was starving, until she hadn't fed it.

But now, it was Nick she was worried about. He needed help. She turned her eyes toward the very thing she had avoided the whole day, the portrait above the mantle. "Oh, Tom, I'm so worried about Nick. What has our son gotten himself into marrying that woman? Oh, Tom please, please talk to me" she pleaded, as the tears she had been holding finally breached the dam.

Tom Barkley's portrait remained silent, like it always did.

You're just tormenting yourself, Victoria. Go to bed, sleep on it.

Victoria had reached the second floor when Audra came home from her evening out with Lloyd. She hadn't meant to overhear but, from the upstairs landing, she witnessed the couple's exchange at the front door.

"It's been a wonderful evening," Audra's breathed with a dreamy voice.

"For me too, Audra. I'll see you tomorrow," came Lloyd's reply. He took her hand and gently kissed her fingertips.

"Until tomorrow," he said.

"Good night." Audra closed the door and leaned on it, closing her eyes, a smile of complete, absolute happiness on her face. She had arranged her hair in a loose bun, soft curls delicately framing her face. She reached up her hand and took off the pearl hairpin so that her hair fell on her shoulders like a golden waterfall. She gracefully traced out some dance steps across the foyer, humming a waltz. Victoria thought that if happiness had a face, that had to be Audra's.

"Audra?" She called her daughter beginning to descend the staircase as Audra began to climb it. They met in the middle. "Did you have a nice time?"

"Oh, wonderful. Mother? Lloyd proposed to me tonight."

Victoria embraced her daughter. "I'm happy for you, darling."

As the first rays penetrated through the curtains, Audra stretched her legs in her bed, shreds of a sweet dream still behind her eyelids, so close yet out of reach. Her eyes still closed, she smiled at the memory of her new happiness and sighed, lazily savoring the warmth beneath her sheets. Five minutes more. Five minutes more, to remember every minute of the previous day, every little precious moment necessary to fill the void until they'd meet again.

Audra embraced her pillow with the sudden desire to be with him physically, craving his touch, a sweet pain coming from the very core of her being making her breath hasten in yearning. She had never, ever felt that way before. She didn't even fully understand what her body was telling her.

Audra rolled over onto her back, shoved the sheets aside, opened her eyes and smiled, a brand new day was ready to be lived, full of possibilities like a book yet to be written.

Audra Barkley was ready to rise into her new life.