A/N: Thanks Xphoenix and Zmonsta for the reviews. Your support keeps me going.

And to all Jott fans out there in the world, I haven't forgotten you. I am you. So stay tuned!

Chapter 9 – The Merchandise.

I woke up to the sound of rain pounding against the wooden ceiling. James was gone, but I could still feel his skilled hands and hot mouth exploring every inch of my skin, taking me to places I was pretty sure I didn't deserve to be. He had made me feel good about myself – cherished, safe, and most important, in control of my life; not like a toy or a tool, as Jason often made me feel. And the best part was, I hadn't thought of my husband, or Shaw, or Creed, or any other man for that matter during the time I had been in Logan's arms.

I thanked God it was Saturday because I was too tired to tutor a child that morning. Nonetheless, I knew that James and I needed to talk, and the earlier we did that, the less we'd suffer. So I got up, got dressed, and exited my room with a wistful last look at the empty bed.

The kitchen clock showed ten past six. I made coffee, and through the front window I could see James sitting on his usual step at the porch, cowboy hat on his head, smoking a cigar as the rain fell before him.

I opened the front door and stepped onto the porch, noticing how his back muscles tensed in my presence. I didn't want that awkwardness between us – I couldn't afford it. Hence, I said, "Isn't it a little early for cigars?"

He glanced at me over his shoulder and grunted, "No."

"Fine. Suit yourself," I replied calmly, not waiting for an invitation to sit beside him. I handed him a mug of hot coffee and drank from my own, letting my eyes get lost on the soothing sight of water pouring on the vegetation in front of us.

Logan murmured a thanks and sipped his coffee in silence. When both of our mugs were empty, he offered me a cigarette, but I didn't feel like smoking. I wasn't nervous, and that surprised me.

"Ya slept well?" he asked.

"I did. You?"

"Yeah." He took one long puff of his cigar before exhaling the smoke. "Last night was a mistake, darlin'. It was stupid."

I tried not to let his words hurt me, because I knew what he was trying to say. As attracted to each other as we might be, we weren't in love – which was a very good thing and completely in line with my beliefs at the time. "Perhaps," I responded. "But I don't regret it."

James turned to me. "We can't be together, Jean."

"I know. We're supposed to be siblings."

"Exactly." His eyes wandered from my face to my midriff. "Any chances ya're… ya know."

It took me a moment to understand what he was attempting to ask.

"Pregnant? I doubt it," I replied truthfully. After five years of marriage and not one late flow, I was pretty sure I was infertile. Besides, it wasn't the right time of the month.

"Ya'd tell me… wouldn't ya?"

"Yes, Logan! Of course!" I retorted irritated. I took a deep breath and calmed down. "Don't worry."

"'Kay."

After a minute of unbearable silence, I queried, "Who's Rose?" James's expression turned from apprehensive to pained, then to inquisitive. I elaborated, "You said her name in your sleep."

"Shit," he mumbled, staring down at his boots. He took another puff of his cigar. "She's my late wife."

"Oh." I hadn't expected that answer. "I-I'm so sorry, Logan. I didn't know…"

He snorted. "How could ya?"

James had a point. I had shared almost everything about my life with him, but I still knew nothing about his past or who he truly was. I felt that, after last night, maybe he would be ready to tell me things. I mean, how more intimate could we get?

"Do you trust me?"

He looked at my face again. "Ya wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"Then be honest with me, Logan. Explain to me why I can't walk home alone; who's Victor Creed, and why in God's name does he hate you so much? What is it that Kurt brings to you every time he comes to town? And what's your deal with Dr. McCoy?"

James stared at me for a long moment, probably debating in his mind whether he should tell me the truth. His cigar had stopped burning, so he put it in his pocket and sighed. "Fine. Ya wanna know it all, Red, I'll tell ya… but if ya don't like what ya hear in the end, feel free to pack your stuff and leave. I don't need your righteous upper-class judgement in my house."

I felt the blood burning in my veins. "When have I ever judged you, Logan? It's you that keep bringing up my previous lifestyle, even though you know I'm not some frivolous social-climber dame!" I yelled, offended.

Not anymore at least, I thought to myself. Ironically, that's exactly what I would have become if I had submitted to Jason's machinations. That awful moment in Shaw's library had determined my recent struggles, but it had also opened my eyes and defined a deeper moral path for me.

Surprised by my outburst, James said, "Fair enough." He didn't apologize with words, but his eyes bore something similar to regret as he began his story. "After Rose died, I moved to the States 'cause there was nothin' left in Canada for me. The war had been over for a decade, but this country was still grievin' from the years of battles and losses – it wasn't a goddam land of opportunity as one might think. One day I crossed paths with Creed in a saloon in Memphis. He was bringin' some merchandise into the West and needed a partner; I needed a job, so I agreed to help him."

Almost afraid of the answer, I inquired softly, "What merchandise was that?"

Logan removed his hat, placed it on the floor beside him, and ran both his hands through his thick black hair. "Opium, Jeannie. It was opium. We'd buy it from Chinese immigrants in South Carolina, then we'd sell it all over the Middle West. Lehnsherr coordinated the whole operation."

My eyes widened. "Lehnsherr… as in Marshall Erik Lehnsherr?"

He nodded. "The one and only. As the Marshall, Lehnsherr had access to a hell lotta clients – people in high places, mostly. He'd pay us off the records, of course," he made a pause here and shook his head, "God forgive me, Red… I made a lotta cash distributin' that stuff across the Middle West. Until one day, Creed and I stopped seein' eye to eye."

"What happened?"

"That scumbag killed a Chinese girl," James told me, and I could see pain and hatred mixed in his eyes. "Her name was Jubilation. We'd been doin' business with her parents for a couple of years, but that month they didn't bring the amount of opium we'd agreed. So Creed decided to take on their daughter. I tried to stop him, but Maverick, another one of Lenhsherr's hired guns, held me back with a pistol to my forehead. I told Erik I was gonna kill them both. He laughed at me… said the Chinese had it comin'."

"Oh my God! That's awful!" I commented. I knew James's heart enough by now to understand that he would never have lasted among such ruthless people. "You left Lehnsherr's band, then."

"Yes. I told him I was out. He sent Maverick after me, and I sent the bastard back missin' a head."

I had always presumed that Logan's past was dark, and even that he may have murdered someone at some point, but I could never have guessed the amount of violence he was describing to me now. I tried not to sound too horrified as I asked, "Wh-what… happened after that?"

"Lehnsherr came to talk to me in person. He was afraid I was gonna snitch his scheme to the authorities," James placed the cowboy hat back on his head and turned to me again. "And he was right, Jean… I was gonna rat him. I was willin' to go to jail just to see that son of a gun spendin' the rest of his days behind bars," he said, then scoffed, "Guess what? The governor was on his paycheck too."

Hearing that, I could finally understand Logan's distrust of lawmen. "How did you get away from him?"

"I threatened to harm his twins," he revealed. I must have made a shocked face at that because he immediately declared, "I ain't proud of it, okay? But I had no other option." He retrieved the cigar from his pocket and lit it again. After one puff, he went on, "Ya think Lehnsherr backed down? He didn't. Instead, he threatened to let his men have their way with every Chinese woman we'd ever done business with. I couldn't kill all of his goons, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna let they hurt the ladies… So we cut a deal. I would disappear without a word to the authorities, and he'd let me and the Chinese alone."

I stared at the rain again, trying to digest everything James had told me. Marshall Lehnsherr was a monster, and I couldn't help but imagine all the horrible things that cruel, cruel man could do to me if he ever found me. I inadvertently began to tremble. "Oh God!"

Logan reached for my hand. "Hey. Ya're safe here, darlin'. I ain't gonna let anythin' happen to ya." I didn't respond, so he grabbed my other hand and pulled me toward his chest, holding me close to him. For some reason, his embrace always had a soothing effect on me. "Wanna hear how I met Kurt?" he asked after a minute in an obvious attempt to distract me.

"Yes." I disentangled myself from his arms so I could look at his face.

"'Kay," he puffed at his cigar again, then regarded me with a grin. "We met durin' a saloon brawl."

I rolled my eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

James poked my shoulder. "Hey! Ya promised not to judge!" he exclaimed, trying to sound indignant.

I hid a smile, glad that we were still able to tease each other after last night. "Sorry."

He glared at me playfully. "As I was sayin', we met in a saloon… Clarke County, I think it was. I'd been there a couple of hours, drinkin' and hopin' for a fight; Kurt was sittin' at a table gamblin' rowdily against these three fellas. To this day I don't know what that circus clown did, but he was about to be beaten by the three idiots, and they were twice his size."

I smiled because I could just see the whole scene playing in my head. "And you, of course, couldn't let an innocent, defenseless man like Wagner be spanked to death," I said ironically.

Logan grinned. "Ya know me, Red. Anyway, we ended up in the same jail cell that night. We've been friends since."

"Not only friends, right? Business partners as well."

He eyed me curiously. "Did Kurt tell ya that?"

"He told me he had a partner. I didn't know it was you."

"Yeah, well… Wagner was already workin' as a merchant when we met; as for me, I had experience with the opium trade. We just joined forces."

I had expected everything from the pair, except that. "You two… sell opium?"

"Only for medical reasons," he justified, but I didn't believe him.

"For Christ's sake, Logan! Do you know what that thing does to people?" I asked heatedly.

He raised one eyebrow and countered, "Do you?"

I couldn't withstand his gaze, so I stared down. I hadn't told him about my previous experience with Selene.

"You do," James voiced after a moment. I nodded, and he let out a groan. "Jesus, Jean."

"I used to smoke it with Shaw's wife. He knew I was under the effect when… when he…" I choked on my words.

Holding my chin, Logan made me look at his face. "That's not why we sell it, Red. It's not. Look, surgeons use opium to make a pain reliever for their patients, so we bring it to a few doctors we know in the Middle West. That's all."

"Like Dr. McCoy?"

"Yes, like McCoy. The medicine they make is called morphine. He'd have given some to ya before fixin' your wrist if he had any left, ya know?"

I sighed. "Still, Logan… Why do you have to sell it to Dr. McCoy? Why can't he buy it from the Marshall?"

"Because Lehnsherr charges too much. Kurt and I distribute it for a decent price… sometimes even for free," he explained.

I felt myself frowning at him. "Now, Logan, why would you do something like that for free?"

He stared at the rain ahead again, a dark look coming across his features. "Ya ever seen an amputation, or a shot wound, Jean? What about the pain of a labor that went wrong?" he turned to address me again. "Bourbon ain't enough, Red. It's cruel to let people suffer when ya got the means to prevent it."

I could bet James was talking from experience, but I didn't have the courage to ask him for confirmation – at least not at that moment. Thus, I changed the subject. "But what if Lehnsherr finds out? He won't tolerate competition, Logan, especially coming from you."

"He won't," he replied with certitude. "For all intents and purposes, I get my earnings from sellin' bourbon. I've been a rancher in Fredericksburg for a decade now, and that's what people know about me."

"That, and that you suddenly have a sister," I reminded him.

He chuckled. "Yes, a sister. Not some gorgeous, smart lady I'm supposed to spend the night with." I felt my cheeks burning up at his compliment. His hand reached up to move a lock of black hair away from my face. "So, darlin', as much as we've enjoyed ourselves last night…"

"There's too much at stake," I finished for him. "I understand it."

"Good," James smiled at me. He put what was left of his cigar back in his pocket and stood up.

"One last thing," I said, grabbing him by the wrist before he could leave. "Do you think you and I can be in the same place alone without wanting to undress each other? Because I could really use some extra shooting classes, Logan. I don't want to be at any man's mercy ever again."

He looked down at me, his grin growing wider. "Thought ya'd never ask."

My relationship with James was completely changed after that weekend. Ironically, having slept together had put an end to whatever sexual tension had existed between us. We were closer now and also more trusting of each other, and sometimes it even felt like we were brother and sister.

I was back in Sheriff Summers's house on the following Monday. He opened the door for me, bowing politely.

"Good morning, Miss Howlett. How was your weekend?"

"Excellent, sheriff. How about yours?"

"It was nice," he replied smiling. He was dressed in his full lawman outfit minus the hat, his hair perfectly combed and his face well-shaven. I found him quite handsome that morning.

As soon as I stepped inside, he handed me an envelope with my weekly wage. "Thank you," I said.

"You're very welcome, Miss Howlett. If that's all right with you, I'd like to have a word before Nathan's classes begin."

"Su-sure," I stuttered, already getting anxious.

I followed the sheriff to the living room. He motioned for me to sit on the couch while he sat on one of the armchairs. "Tea?" he offered, pointing to a porcelain tea set resting on the coffee table.

"Yes, please."

He poured the mint tea into a cup and handed it to me, then poured some into his cup and took a slow gulp. I tried not to let my hands shake as I sipped the hot beverage.

"Nate spent the whole weekend asking if I had ever been to Austin, or Fort Worth, or even Houston!" he chuckled amused. "He even quizzed if I knew how many hours it would take on a horse's back to arrive in San Antonio!"

I rested my teacup on the table and smiled. "Is that so?"

Summers nodded. "I haven't seen my boy so enthusiastic about his studies in a long time, Miss Howlett," he told me, then corrected himself, "Actually, I don't think I've ever seen him this motivated before."

That came as a surprise to me. "You haven't? Not even when his mother was tutoring him?"

The sheriff shook his head. "Definitely not. Madelyne only taught our son because he couldn't go to school, not because she wanted the task or even liked it. And Nate, for his turn, did the best he could to learn because… well, I suppose he wanted to please his momma. But the truth is they weren't -I mean, she wasn't- the most affectionate mother a boy could have."

"Oh." Thinking about it, the revelation shouldn't have shocked me, given that Madelyne had left her son behind to engage in some kind of sordid love affair with his uncle God only knew where.

The sheriff continued. "Anyhow, I just wanted to let you know that I'm very pleased with the way you've been conducting Nathan's tutoring," he paused. "Also, I wanted to apologize for my inquiring about your teaching experience last Friday. I didn't mean to doubt your skills, Miss Howlett. It's obvious that you know what you're doing."

Relief washed over me at hearing Sheriff Summers's words, and also a little bit of self-satisfaction. It was really refreshing to know that I could excel at something besides cooking and being a wanted criminal on the run.

"I'm glad to know that I'm being of help, sheriff," I replied. "But the credit is all Nathan's. He's a really good boy, and very smart."

"He is," the man agreed proudly. "I wish I could spend more time with him, especially now… but work's been chaotic lately. The Marshall's still in town breathing on my neck."

The next words left my mouth before I could stop myself. "By the way, have you found the redhead murderer yet?"

Sheriff Summers frowned, then stared at me for a long moment. "I never said we were looking for a murderer," he responded.

My palms became sweaty, and I thanked the Lord I was sitting because otherwise I would surely collapse to the floor. "I-I uh… I-I thought you uh… said to Logan th-that-"

"I never said that the woman killed Sebastian Shaw – only that she assaulted him and torched his house," he stated. "Mr. Shaw is alive."

Mr. Shaw is alive… Mr. Shaw is alive… Mr. Shaw is alive…

Those four words kept ringing in my ears, and I could no longer hear what the sheriff was saying. The living room began to spin around me, and the mint tea suddenly felt like lead in my stomach.

"Miss Howlett, are you all right? Miss Howlett?"

I felt Summers's fingers gripping my arms to shake me softly. The lightheaded feeling vanished from my mind as abruptly as it had emerged. I looked at his face. "Wh-what?"

"Are you all right, ma'am? You seemed pale for a moment," he asked concerned.

"I'm fine," I uttered. "Just a bit… hot."

"It is a hot day today," he noted, glancing around. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. I should have offered you a refreshment instead of tea. I'll be right back."

As Summers left the living room, I used the opportunity to organize my train of thought. Sebastian was alive, which was a very good thing because it meant that I wasn't a killer; it was also a very bad thing, for if I ever got caught, it would be his word against mine – I was sure I didn't stand a chance against someone as powerful as him. On top of that, I knew from experience that Shaw was a relentless man – he wouldn't rest until I was arrested and hanged.

My eyes welled up, and I had to quickly clean my tears on my sleeves.

The sheriff hurried back to me with a glass of cold lemonade. "Here you go."

"Thank you," I said, gulping down the refreshment without establishing eye contact. Yet, I could sense him watching me. I needed to control my emotions and play this situation like a mastermind, like Jason would.

"Better?" he asked me.

"Much better." I smiled and placed the glass on the coffee table; then I stood up and smoothed down my dress, looking at him in the eye this time. "Shall we begin today's classes?"