He must be mad, Jake thought as he watched the dying embers fade into the shadows of soot, in the fireplace. The parlor was misted with the dissipating scent of burnt oak logs and charcoal smoke which floated like a mass sheet up the flue of the chimney. Although, he had done as Cloud Dancing bid, leaving the door unlocked it nagged at him. After the girls had drifted off, Jake went about his new nightly routine, dragging the rocker out of the nursery and setting it up between Lucy and Izzy's doors. However, as he stared down at the curved empty seat the back of his smooth neck erupted in chilled bumps. Jake felt a pressurized sensation pulsing like a heartbeat at his back calling his attention to the compromised door. Briefly, his instincts grappled with his trust in Cloud Dancing's request.

The heat was getting to him, he thought wiping a fallen bead of sweat from his temple. Yet as if calling his body's ability to sense temperature into question, an icy chill darted up his spine, forcing him into action. As Jake jumbled down the stairs, he hastily unbuttoned his dress shirt hoping to rid himself of any amount of stifling pressure. Passing the darkened foyer, he didn't dare cast even a glance in the direction of the closed door. For in his mind the unlocked door was as good as missing the entire front wall of the house. Crashing down into the crook of the winged sofa, he'd stretched his long legs down its length, and proceeded to watch the fire die out. But every mammalian trill and nocturnal hum had him darting up to search the windows for intruders. This exercise in tension fatigued his body to the point of drifting off in the plush comforts of the warm sofa.

Though his body rested, his mind cycled with the oncoming threat. What had she done to him that night as he slept? Worst of all, had he not wakened easily, what could she have done to the girls? Jake couldn't cease conjuring up instances in which Celina entered the house, and riled on top of him. His body paralyzed beneath her as Teresa entered discovering the lie. What could he do? What could he say in defense that wouldn't sound absolutely far fetched? Once again, his mind cycled. Were Lucy to come down stairs looking for him, she might be in danger. What might that hellish woman do then? Anger mounted within Jake, giving rise to his now unchecked temper. Nothing could quench the flames of his temperament should that Morrow woman lay a finger on his child.

Then he felt it, so faint at first he wasn't sure if it was part of his dream or his body's wakeful state. The fabric of his shirt sliding over his bare skin like the lightest of breezes jarred him. She was here in the house! He felt her rise at his side, trying to get away, but every fiber in him screamed not to allow her escape. Like a bullet his arm catapulted out snatching at anything tangible. His hand clamped around her fragile wrist eliciting an audibly pain filled whimper. Although his eyes tore open almost immediately, it took a moment for her vile form to register with his half-wakeful state.

There she was her pallid complexion glimmering under her sinfully scarlet locks which spilled down like a satin curtain about her shoulders. Like the scales of a snake, her viridian eyes blared maleficent with daring as her lips curled into a salacious smile. Jake released her wrist catching her around her shoulders, only succeeding in making her laugh sardonically in his face. The sound of her voice seeped into his head, creeping down into the caverns of his belly. There his now unchecked temper uncoiled and burst into the flames of his raging anger. He shook her hard wanting to know why she'd decided to destroy his life. His world…His world that had taken him so long to create and deserve, was crumbling at her mere whims.

"Why!" he could hear himself yelling through her maniacal laughter. "Why!"

Jake could feel his nails digging into the soft flesh at the backs of her arms, as he continued to rack her back and forth, with such force her head tossed like a rag doll. All the while, her unrelenting laughter taunted him, provoking him further into his threatening wrath. Suddenly, as he was about to fall over the edge of oblivion and cut her down, somewhere in the emptiness of the room, a meek voice sounded.

"Jake!" Celina's arms squeezed up between his own and took hold of his neck. Only, rather than scratching at his skin or attempting to choke his throat, her hands weakly framed his contorted face. "Jake…my Heart…wake up."

This threw him off his guard, as he ceased in his torturous shaking of her suddenly limp body. Exhausted she hung her head off to the side slightly, her face covered by the now chaotic darkness of her hair. Jake blinked releasing her aching shoulders from his vise like grip, "What'd yah call me?"

Her breathing labored, she slowly turned to face him as wave after wave of midnight silk fell away from her wounded expression. "Jake," her familiar accent pierced through his heart like ice. "What has happened?"

As his hands swept up, she flinched from his touch, before trusting in his soft caress. He gently brushed her disheveled tresses from her face, tucking some glossy strands behind her ears. "Teresa?…You've come back tah me?"

Jake's entire face fell, as he realized in his dreaming state, he'd mistaken Teresa for Celina. In a panic, Jake attempted to survey the damage he'd done, feeling like a beast. It had been years since he'd known this monstrous feeling. Now that his self-loathing had snaked back around him, Jake couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. His sweet wife had come home and he had nearly murdered her with his own hands.

"Of course. I said I would," she smiled through the pain.

Teresa enveloped Jake's trembling yet searching hands between hers. Gently she soothed his skin rubbing the clammy chill away. Her hands worked their way up his arms and finally to his own shoulders, before she sat up close to him within the sphere of his upper body. With the tips of her fingers, she nudged his chin towards her, forcing him to look her in the eyes. This was not the face of the man she'd left at the train station. His hair was slightly longer and it was evident he hadn't bothered to run a comb through it. Jake's usually smooth face, was shaded with a dark auburn bristle that was bordering between stubble, and the growth of a three-day beard. Even under the dying light of the oil lamps Teresa could see the dark circles under his ruddy lined eyes.

"Look at me Jake," she pleaded firmly brushing her fingers along his scratchy cheek. "Whatever has happened…let us deal with it in the morning." Still sensing his reluctance and shame, she continued, "Jake I am home now. I am home now."

"I…I'm sorry," his voice was low and still affectively shocked.

As if knowing exactly what he needed she slipped into his arms, molding herself to his body. Hesitantly Jake embraced her, feeling Teresa settling into him, he felt his apprehension melting away. She was real, safe, and warm in his arms. Burying his face in her onyx waves, he inhaled her scent. Roses, his long awaited roses, and something else. The closer to her back he got the stronger the foreign scent was. He'd smelled something like that before, at the mercantile. Sandalwood. Yes, Eau de Cologne. But this was a man's scent, not a woman's perfume. Certainly not hers.

"Teresa?" He began before the front door slammed open and a cougar like man stormed in with his arms set at his sides.

"Ms. Teresa! I was halfway down the path when I heard shouting!"

Jake shot up towering with his full height close to the man who stood his equal. Blue storms met crystalline blue waters, as Jake and Randall came eye to eye. Nostrils flaring, Jake wrestled with the fact that this man had been close enough to his wife to leave his scent on her. Just as Jake was about to strike forward, Teresa drew herself up between them, though remaining closer to her husband.

"Everything is ok," she said maintaining a calm tone in her voice. "Jake was having a nightmare, that is all…Jake this is Randall McCoy. When the train was delayed, he offered to bring me home safely. It is because of his kindness that I am here."

Jake shifted his stance, uncertain now as he observed this feline of a man. Aversely, he offered his hand, "Jake Slicker, I'm her husband."

Randall took Jake's hand playing off Teresa's reassuring face, "You have a very lovely wife." Randall's lips curved into a teasing crescent. Their hands held in a continuously tightening grip until Teresa cleared her throat and Jake gave in. Randall rubbed the back of his neck looking at Teresa from under his brow. "Like I said…I was just about to ride back into town when I heard yelling."

Teresa smiled nodding, "I assure you, it was nothing more than a nightmare."

Jake's eyes widened as he looked from Teresa's face then back to Randall's. So much had occurred within the time he had committed his unintentional act on Teresa, and what he was fighting to assume, was only the fear of a companion on Randall's part. Feeling as though he were in a haze, Jake teetered on his feet, struggling to keep up with this sudden flash of events. His body felt fatigued and anxious all at the same time, as he narrowed his vision on Randall's now curious expression.

"Mr. Slicker?" he asked uncertainly advancing on Jake with his arms stretched forward preparing to catch him.

His vision beginning to fizz and spot, Jake's skin tingled over the numbness he felt in his muscles. Again, he attempted to focus on the man in front of him only to be felled by a wave anxiety. His body seemed to detach from his senses, almost as though he where in a dream. It was then that Jake fell roughly into Randall's swooping arms, bringing the two men down to their knees. Teresa rushed to Jake's side helping Randall to pull him up to the sofa. As soon as Jake was settled, Teresa turned frantically to Randall, her eyes full of fear.

"Please, if you follow the dirt path past the creek there will be a homestead. That is where Dr. Quinn lives. Please," she begged him.

Randall only nodded as he bound out the door to his waiting horse.