The muscles in her shoulders pulled tightly making her feel as though she were hunching over. Her slender neck crackled like eggshells crunching under a boot heel, as she swiveled her head. Stretching her petite arms out and up over her head, Celina popped nearly every bone and yanked the tautness out of every muscle. With the last of her appointments finally out the door, Celina set about straightening her workspace. Fastidiously, she noted each client in her ledger, marking those which had paid and were fitted into apparel, and those that had only been measured and not paid. Now with her percentages tallied Celina was about to count out the physical cash, when his boots lightly shuffled through the wide doorway.

There was something toxic in his demeanor, as he stopped close to her counter. His eyes studied her with an air of mistrust, until they cast down like a feather floating to the ground, on the thick leaves of cash in her hand. She smiled as she fluttered the loose lettuce about like a fan.

"Another good day for business, Mr. Bray," Celina declared wearing the mask of naïve innocence. "You might have to put an order in for more gingham by the end of the week, we are doing so well!"

Loren took the monetary fan in his hand feeling the way the bills crinkled together in their thick stack. He wanted to look her in the eye, yet his line of sight could only linger on the cash in his hand. Slowly, he shuffled back to his side of the counter, and noted his profits in his own ledger before counting out Celina's percentage. She was doing well, and he was doing better. Loren pushed her cut away from him, sliding the bills along the sleek glass counter. Without meeting her gaze, he watched as Celina came around and took up her earnings. I gottah family tah protect. Jake's voice cut into Loren's thoughts clanging at the bell of his heart. This morning I found a jug of Hank's whiskey at my door. It clanged again vibrating within his chest. Celina was humming to herself as she counted out her money before placing it safely inside the pocket concealed within the folds of her green and blue gingham skirt. She ain't proper and I won't have her near my girls! This last cut him to the quick, as he pictured Lucy and Izzy. Loren didn't doubt Jake would keep them from the store. He might not stop at that, for Loren knew once Jake set his mind to something it was as good as done. Even if Teresa protested, Jake would keep the girls from coming close to seeing Celina. He recalled Jake's threat to move his shopping to Denver. That might not be all he moved there. Not seeing Jake was one thing, but not being able to watch those girls grow up, as he had with most the children in this town, couldn't be had.

"Uh, Celina?" Loren hedged about coming around to her sewing counter. "What'd you say if I were tah double yer percentage?"

She had just been setting to leave for the day when Loren's sudden offer froze her in her tracks by the doorway. "Double my percentage?"

"Well, ah… we been doin' so good lately…" he nervously ran his hands down along his stomach as he lowered his chin to his chest. "Maybe it'd be time we went our separate ways. You'd have enough money tah move on…I could ah…."

"Move on?" Celina scrunched her finely shaped chestnut brow over her mossy eye. The wheels within her mind turned picking up steam as she sought a new strategy. Allowing her face to fall serene, she stood before Loren clasping her small white hands in front of her skirts. "Mr. Bray…I see gossip has worked its way into your stead. I can assure you that it is only that…gossip. The stories I have heard conceived, are blatant lies of fancy and I will not stand by quietly any longer."

"Now, Jake came to me himself-"

"I am not placing any blame on Mayor Slicker," she interrupted with trembling lips. "He is a fine family man. A gentleman… I believe this is merely a misunderstanding among us women folk. I understand how she must feel after having been away from her husband for so long…and I now see the imprudence of my over kindness were her children were concerned. But as I tried to assure Mrs. Slicker, her accusations are severely misguided."

"Well, she's always been kinda mistrustin'. S' ah wonder…" Loren stopped to wonder a moment. Hadn't the gossip started before Teresa had returned? Up until this point, Loren hadn't had much reason to scrutinize Celina's appearance. He had hardly looked her in the eye much less noticed her face. Noting the difference in the position of her plaited hair, Loren perked up.

A sideswipe of satin scarlet fell purposefully across her forehead and over one side of her temple and cheek. The rest tucked back in a twirled braid passed her ears and spun into an oblong flat bun at the base of her neck. With the blades of her fingers Celina, self-consciously ran along this swipe of hair accidentally revealing some of the purple bloom of bruised flesh beneath. The proof was in the pudding or in the bruise as Loren saw it. So Teresa had struck Celina.

"Please," she raised her hand to him warily hooding her eyes underneath her feathered tawny lashes. "I have forgiven Mrs. Slicker her abuse, as I'm sure she has forgiven herself. As I said, she was misguided by gossip."

Stymied, Loren ruffled up no longer sure of his thoughts or feelings in the matter. The only thing he was positive of was how hurt he would be if Jake cut him out all together.

xXx

Her station secured for the moment, Celina sashayed out onto the busy street, side stepping the rolling wagons and burdened horses until she reached the livery. Intending to procure a horse from Robert E., she boldly ventured into the open fenced stable stretching her petite pointed nose in the direction of the smoking forge. Flaxen gold and hushed green oak leaves rattled overhead, pulling Celina's attentions in the direction of the eye high fenced in stall, and the little pitch hued brunette watching her from between the slats.

xXx

From Randall's new position behind Teresa in the dim doorway of the schoolhouse, he could see the color in Jake's eyes blazing beneath the shaded brim of his suede slouch. He'd never in his life seen blue fire, yet he was sure he was witness to it now. As Jake lumbered excitedly up the steps, he seemed to tower like a pillar over Teresa and himself. Somehow, his cobalt duster made him appear as a sheathed sword, bold and erect as he tipped his hat back on his head, allowing two coma like curves of auburn bangs to fall loose framing his forehead. The effect drew back his menacing demeanor, revealing a youthful softness to his face and an almost boyish quality. It was a flicker of the bachelor. And just like a flicker, it was gone, replaced with a love struck sense of duty as his now clouding blue skies fell on his wife.

"Uh-oh," Randall mused leaning back to perch on one of the desks with his legs stretched before him. Clapping his hands flatly together, he wedged them between his ankle-crossed legs as he observed the couple.

"Jake?" Teresa drew herself up readying herself for the blow.

"Answer came through," Jake gruffly exhaled handing her the telegram. Now with his hands free, Jake slid them under the front flaps of his duster and rested them on his narrow hips.

"Mr. Slicker," Teresa read aloud for Randall's benefit. "If you love your wife…" here she glanced up to meet Jake's intent gaze before continuing. "do not let her out of your sight. If you have children, I pray I reach Colorado Springs, before anything can happen…" Teresa's voice faltered slightly with shock. "I caution you. May she never discover that you have reached me. Archibald Eli Marrow."

Jake watched as the telegram compacted in her tightening fist, fishing to the surface the memory of her family's letter, which had called her away from him, in what felt like ages ago. "I know you're not going tah like this-"

"Jake, no," she waved her still rather sore but now functioning hand in the air as if to erase his words.

"I'll ask Hank-" one hand flew away from his hip and questioned the air with his palm.

"No!" she squared her shoulders determinately. "We have asked far too much of him already."

Jake cast his gaze about the room, his eyes beginning to shift between where Izzy sat engrossed in the tiny white border of lace on the hem of her dress, and Randall. The two men locked together in a silent agreement. Randall's heavy tow frosted brow arched rounding his aquatic topaz eyes as he bowed his lips between the creased parentheses of his mouth. Chin pushing down into his neck, he nodded in agreement, as he pushed himself up. He would stay…as long as he was needed, Randall "The Bullet" McCoy would stay.

Taking Teresa's hand gentling into his own Jake reassured her with just the stroke of his thumb along the heart line of her palm. Jake then eased her fisted hand letting the crumpled telegram fall to the ground as he held her hand to his chest. Without facing Randall he addressed him thus, "Not that you'll need 'em, but you may wanna strap on your guns."

"That's not necessary," Randall dropped his hip, swinging his hands into a clap, holding them up by his chest for a moment. "I don't deal in lead…" he smirked jovially.

Jake raised a brow at this. A man known as The Bullet, who didn't have guns. He opened his mouth about to press this mystery of a man, who had blown seemingly blind into the fray of their lives; when, Teresa gasped. She grabbed at the lapels of Jake's duster forcing him to look down his chest at her.

"Lucy went looking for you at the barbershop, Jake," she pleaded. "You didn't see her?"

However, before Jake could answer, Randall swung about, jumping onto the bench of the wagon and drove Cin' down through the meadow towards town.