*I am so sorry for the long wait. I just can't seem to shake off this pneumonia. It just keeps coming back. But now it seems to be less, Yay! Well, I thought since the show has guest stars I would have one too. So yes that is who you think it is, if who you think it is, is him. Ha ha! If your not sure and want to know just pm or review and I'll let you in. So hope you enjoy!*

Now as her shoulder jostled against the bottom frame of the window, she felt her heart lurch painfully. Her soul ached with the price of being severed from the only family she had ever known. With the life of her aunt extinguished like a spent flame, she no longer felt the rushing freedom she had felt in making her peace with the woman. Instead, guilt wrapped its webbed talons around her, choking out her resolve. Hadn't her aunt taken her in when her parents had died? Hadn't she been like a daughter to her, loved unconditionally, and kept safe? Teresa knew she had known the safety of a mother's love under the arms of her aunt. She would hold on to that, keeping it locked in the depths of her heart. What had transpired the days before her wedding must be released. However as sure and Teresa was that she had made the right choice; she knew she wasn't the only one that had been wronged. The veiled cloak of her thoughts must remain so until she reached home and they could shuck this cloak together.

Home. Colorado Springs was home. The bright emerald meadow scattered with jeweled flowers and the musical laughter of children. The laughter of her children. How her arms ached to hold them to her breast. To see Lucy's eyes how they looked like a blue sky under a gray storm, gleaming through her thick black lashes as she laughed. She was becoming more and more like Jake everyday. The way she crossed her arms on her little chest, how she only curled one side of her mouth up when she smirked, and the ever-endearing way she had begun to stand with her hands on her hips. And now she had Izzy. Teresa felt her stomach flutter for want of cradling her baby close to her heart. A perfect tiny little feminine copy of her husband, with a temper to match. Teresa couldn't wait to see the young women they would become and yet some small part of her wished to suspend them in time as her little babies.

Teresa gazed out at the rushing scenery as it flashed passed the window in a blur of sundry shades of greens, gold, and the slate blue hue of Jake's mooning eyes. She couldn't wait to surprise him with her early arrival. To feel his strong hands grab hold of her shoulders and pull her towards him. His chest rising and falling in excitement as he pressed his soft full lips against hers. She swallowed nibbling slightly on her bottom lip. How eager she was to completely immerse herself in all three of them. Finally feeling a sense of calm, she allowed herself to mold more comfortably into the rigid seat of the train. What she wouldn't give to hear one of Cloud Dancing's stories, to pass the time. Reaching her laced hand up and around her neck, she attempted to rub out the soreness from her muscles. It was then that she realized he wasn't sleeping, he'd been watching her.

Slowly, he pushed himself up from his stooped position, removing his suede slouch hat from its resting place just above his eyes. Two cerulean orbs, which appeared as though they had been snatched from a stained glass window, peered into her face from under their pronounced brow. Teresa felt taken aback at the severity of his face, which gave off the attitude of a tame cougar. For surely if a cougar could become a man, this man was it. His mouth curved softly between to parenthesis like folds, setting her at ease almost immediately. Coming down in thick flaxen tufts, his hair pushed off his broad forehead as he used his fingers to maintain whatever damage his hat had done. Brow drooping slightly, the man became animated as he adjusted his silk vest which looked very much like the silver scales of a fish, over his button down black shirt.

"I didn't mean to startle yah," his voice was gritty yet light as it cut smooth as a razor to her ears. "You just seem to be ridin over quite a hill of emotions, there."

"I am coming home to my family after not so pleasant a situation," she nodded wondering how it was that she had shared something so personal with a stranger."

"Sorry. . . Someone died, then huh," he gestured towards her black dress. "What was it? Family?"

She frowned recalling the ring of fire she had just escaped from, "They used to be."

The man took her in now, reading the fine expressions on her face as they changed from hopeful optimism into that of stormy skies. "Yeah, family. It's rough- when they love you."

Teresa turned her head once more watching the palette blur across her window. She saw no need to correct him just yet. Deeming it impolite to air out her dirty laundry before this amiable stranger, she gave herself a start. She hadn't even introduced herself. However, seeming to have already played off her reaction he extended his strong reddishly tanned hand.

"Randall McCoy," he offered tamely. "Although I suppose most folks would call me 'The Bullet'."

She allowed him to envelope her lace hand in his as he gave her a firm yet gentle shake. "Teresa Slicker. . . It is a pleasure, Mr. McCoy."

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'There she goes again!' Hank thought watching with a rather irked air, as Celina Marrow hustled down the dusty walk from the Mercantile, to the barbershop. Her blood red hair glistened like satin over her shoulder, as she ran her marble white fingers through the silken strands. Hank narrowed his icy shot gaze as he allowed himself to admit she did look extremely fetching in that emerald green dress. It was tailored perfectly to her slender arms and tapered to advantage over her breasts and slim hips. Not much of a meal, he thought as he scratched at the lion's scruff on his chin. Hank waited until the back of her scalloped skirts disappeared into the barbershop's open doors. Creeping closer to the steps, he looked up and down the street wondering if anyone else had seen her brazen behavior. In his opinion she had no business being in there unless she was in dire need of a shave, in which case he, Grace, Dorothy, and Michaela no longer had anything to worry about. Hitching his thumbs over the thick leather of his gun belt, he spit into the dirt. 'When had he joined the damn sewin circle?' Well, he'd sized her up the moment he'd observed that spectacle from his shaded seat in the back of Grace's Café.

"Well, I just thought I'd come and see how my little Izzy was doing," her voice slithered out the open doors and slapped Hank across the face.

That was about all his growing conscience could stand, as his long legs bypassed the steps all together. Hank lunged to the barbershop not truly knowing what he had been expecting to see. As his golden locks crashed forward over his broad shoulders, he furrowed his brow at the sight of her. 'How the hell was she doin that?' Celina and Jake turned startled by his rather ruckus entrance. She held Izzy close to her breast, with her small chubby legs spilling over Celina's petite arm. Izzy was completely at ease sucking nonchalantly on her fingers as she dreamily watched Celina's face.

"Somethin wrong?" Jake cocked an eyebrow, as he flipped his straight razor up and down into its sheath.

"I-uh," he straightened, combing his fingers through his thick waves. "I was just…" Hank gazed around the shop suddenly aware of a missing fixture. "Where's Luc?"

Jake strolled back towards the white porcelain basin and immersed his blade in the tonic solution. "She's been actin up."

As if on cue tiny, stomping footfalls could be heard overhead. They were angry and stubborn smacking down onto the wooden planks with such a force it caused dust to fall from the crevices of the ceiling. "Hold tight little soldier," Hank whispered under his breath.

"What's that?" Jake asked looking around for his broom.

"Horace!" Hank took steps putting himself between Celina and Jake. He used his body to force her to take a step away. "Pardon," he said half-heartedly, "Horace says you ain't been up tah the depot tah check on any new telegrams lately."

"I'm sure if Mrs. Slicker cares to send a telegram, Mr. Bing will bring it himself," Celina broke in.

"He's probably to damn busy!" Hank shouted the last word over his shoulder. He then turned to Jake looking him in the face. "Teresa might 'ave sent yah somethin' an' is waitin' on a replay."

Jake snapped his attention away from his search. Hands on his hips, he seemed to be wrestling with some kind of doubt, Hank hadn't seen in a long time. Finally, he nodded quickly crossing Hank and taking Izzy from Celina's arms. "Lucinda! You can come down now, we're goin to the depot," Jake called placing Izzy in her wicker carriage.

Lucy stamped down the stairs, her eyes burning like blue infernos at Celina Marrow. Hank fought to stifle his laugh as Lucy glared like a wronged demon at the woman on her way out the door, in front of her father.

"Watch the shop for me, Hank," Jake called behind him as he ushered his children out the door and down the walk. His voice trailed down the street, "Stop makin that face Lucinda!"

Celina sighed about to walk out behind them when Hank struck like a bolt of lightening. His hand clamped like a vise around her minuscule wrist yanking her entire body back with it. Her green eyes burned as she twisted like a snake, trying to writhe out from under the weight of an attacker. Hank only held on with every fiber in his body going rigid with anger. His other hand clasped tightly around her shoulder bringing her up to his face. Not a shred of fear, not even a drop of shock, occupied her face. Instead she glared up at him, in seething menace, daring him to let her go. Venous as a viper her pink lips snarled with utter contempt. It was all he needed to be sure; she should be working at his saloon not tailoring dresses at Loren's store among ladies.

"You're wrongin a fine lady, woman. An' I'm thinkin Luc didn't deserve that scoldin she got 'fore I got here, either," as he spoke he brought his face so close to hers that he could smell her. "Took a long time for Jake tah right himself. He's gonna stay that way."

It was then that her sneer mimicked what could pass for a smile in hell, "Huh, do you think he really loves her? Or maybe she was all to be had at the time. At least that's what they say… Mr. Lawson… yes I've heard about you too. Your past deeds aren't exactly unblemished from what I've heard. Why, I wonder, is a man like you standing up for a proper, as you'd say, lady?"

He tightened his grip causing her to groan in pain, "I won't hear yah utter no more poison against 'er. Or I'll toss yah out in the street for what yah are… And you'll keep yah distance from those girls and Jake too."

"Will I?"

Hank opened his mouth about to rail into her when something caught him off guard. His lips curled back into a smile as he leant his head forward and inhaled deeply. Brows raised, his narrowed eyes grew round with the knowledge he'd just uncovered. She attempted to wriggle free of him, knowing he'd broken through one of her tricks.

"So!" he grinned tossing her like a rag doll into the wall of the threshold. "That's how yah do it! That's why Izzy don't cry when yah pick her up!"

"You!" she fumed. "Don't you dare!"

"Scat!" he shooed at her until she was out on the walk straightening herself. "Get on outta here! I'll fix your wagon later."

Hank pulled a half-spent cigar from the inner pocket of his black vest. He crunched at it between his teeth as he plopped himself down into the barbers chair. That woman was nothing but tricks and twists, and the sooner she was gone the better. Striking a match he'd pulled from behind his ear against the sole of his boot, Hank lit his cigar. After two short puffs, he exhaled watching the billowing plumes rise up to the ceiling before dissipating into nothingness. 'Sooner than Teresa gets home.'