A/N: Hey, guys. Here's a brand new chapter before the end of the year. I hope you enjoy it.

Bear in mind that this chapter is M-rated due to sensitive themes. You've been warned.

Chapter 15 – The Confession.

Three weeks passed, and not a soul showed up at the ranch to take me to the station – not even the sheriff. From what I had heard from Kitty and Sam, Scott had been spending a lot of time in The White Queen in the company of good booze and pretty women. I pretended I didn't care and made sure to busy my mind and hands with plenty of chores around the ranch, but to tell the truth I can barely recall what those days felt like – I guess my heart was so wounded that I survived more than lived at that time.

On one chilly Friday morning, Ororo and I were preparing lunch when we heard horses coming through the front porch. Logan and Samuel were away making deliveries and wouldn't be back until noon, so we knew that whoever our visitors were, they probably meant trouble; as for Peter, he could be anywhere in the ranch. Therefore, I grabbed my pistol and pushed the Henry Repeater into the Winder Rider's hands, instructing her to hide in the opening under James's bed – he had built a trap door there years before to conceal his opium stash, and it was big enough to fit one person. She shook her head negatively, but since we had no time to argue, I pushed her into the bedroom and ran back to the kitchen just in time to witness Creed and one of his goons nearly tearing the front door off its hinges.

"Well, well, well… look who we've got here, John… it's Logan's little bitch," he announced in that malicious tone of his. He exchanged a glance with his companion, who looked almost as intimidating as him, and started to move towards me. "Ya alone, doll?"

"Stay where you are!" I yelled, pointing my gun at him.

"Wow. Ya didn't mention the broad was such a wildcat, Vic," the man named John commented, grinning dirtily at me.

"D'ya even know how to use that pistol, sweetheart? Ya better put it down before ya hurt yourself."

I cocked the gun and steadied my arm to show Creed that I wasn't kidding. He raised his arms in response and faked a frightened expression, then calmly walked to the stove to peek inside the casseroles. Meanwhile, the other man gave a step in my direction, forcing me to change my aim to him.

"I told you not to move!" I warned again.

He stopped. Creed, on the other hand, yanked out one semi-raw leg of the chicken I had been cooking and bit at it savagely.

"Hmm… this grub's good. No wonder my old pal Logan keeps ya around," he stated, devouring that chicken leg until there was only the bone left. He threw it on the floor and reached for a wing next. "Unless, of course, he's got other uses for ya… judgin' by what I see when I look at ya this close, I bet he has," he chewed the food while inspecting me from head to toe, his mean eyes resting on my breasts a moment too long.

I aimed my pistol at Creed again, trying not to stammer much so he wouldn't realize how scared I was. "I-I don't know what you're taking about! Logan's my brother! I don't understand why you keep insinuating the opposite!"

He chuckled. "'Cause I've known the runt for ages and he's never mentioned a sister. Why don't ya confess ya're his little slut, huh? There's no shame in likin' to be fucked by an old dog like him."

"Maybe he ain't satisfyin' her, Vic. We should do somethin' about it."

"We should," Creed agreed, throwing away what was left of the chicken wing. "Ya know what, Greycrow? Now's as good a time as ever."

They charged towards me, each one coming from a different side. Desperate, I chose to fire my gun at Creed. I was able to hit his left shoulder, which prompted him to yell in pain and halt. Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough to avoid being punched in the face by his friend, the strength of his blow throwing me against the kitchen wall and making me lose my breath and pistol. He kicked the gun away and gripped my two arms, and I knew at that moment that the hurting and humiliation had just begun. My only hope was that Peter had heard the shooting and that Ororo remained hidden – she didn't need to suffer the same fate I was about to.

"Ya dirty whore! I'm gonna show ya how I treat worthless women who think they're smart enough to fight men," Greycrow declared. He bent me over the kitchen table, holding me down with one hand while his other one worked on his belt and pants.

"Save some for me, John," I heard Creed voicing. "I wanna have some fun before I strangle the truth outta that bitch's throat."

I squeezed my eyes shut and promise myself not to cry as I felt my assailant's disgusting hands raising my skirt. My mind traveled back to the episode with Shaw, and I regretted not having anything sharp within my reach to strike Greycrow's head with. Next thing I know, I heard a very loud 'BOOM' behind me and felt something warm hitting my back and neck, followed by the weight of a limp male body falling over me.

"Leave!" the Wind Rider commanded as she cocked Logan's rifle again, this time pointing it at Creed. I forced myself up, dropping John Greycrow's dead body to the ground in the process.

Pressing a dishcloth against his bloodied shoulder, Creed stared at the gun in Ororo's hand with true fright this time. "I know ya," he hissed after a moment. "Ya're the Indian rider who freed that Bavarian clown in Round Rock. I'm pretty sure I shot ya – thought I'd turned ya into roadkill back then," he said, then chuckled. "I guess it's true what they say about ya natives bein' harder than cockroaches to kill."

"Leave," Ororo ordered again.

"You heard the lady, mister," Peter spoke from the front doorway, pointing his own rifle at the thug. "Leave now, or the bullet in your shoulder will be the least of your worries."

The blond gorilla eyed Rasputin with hatred and declared, "This ain't over, boy!"

"It is, unless ya want the law involved," Peter replied, his voice unwavering.

Contradicted, Victor Creed stomped out of our house, mounted on his horse, and rode away under Pete's and Ororo's careful watch. Once he was gone, both ran to my aid.

"Are you alright, Miss Jean?" Rasputin asked while the Wind Rider held my trembling hands in hers. I hadn't realized I had been shaking, nor that I had Greycrow's blood and brains spread all over my skin, hair, and clothes.

One look at his blown-up head was all it took to make me retch on the floor. Finally grasping all that had transpired in the past ten minutes, I felt my knees giving way under me and began to sob.

Ororo and Peter exchanged some words that I can't remember, and before I realized it, I was lying naked in the bathtub, the Wind Rider washing my body and hair. She had to change the water twice to get rid of all the blood and bits of dead tissue.

"Fire Bringer safe," she kept repeating to me. "Bad men gone. You safe."

"That was silly of you, Ororo… You're in danger now," I replied after what must have been her tenth attempt to comfort me. "You should have hidden under the bed. Now Logan's going to be mad at us."

"Lone Wolf will understand," she responded. "Ororo don't like small spaces."

"Still… you could have stayed in the bedroom."

"Fire Bringer needed help. Ororo helped."

Indeed, she had helped me – again. Soon, we heard a knock on the door. The Wind Rider opened it just a bit, and even though I had my back to the door, I knew it was James before he uttered the first word. He asked how she and I were. Ororo explained that she was fine; as for me, my left eye and cheek were swollen and my arms were bruised, but apart from that I was unharmed. At hearing her words, I felt a wave of nausea hitting me and struggled not to vomit again.

She helped me to dress into clean clothes, then escorted me to bed and only left after I had dozed off. About thirty minutes later, James entered my bedroom and stirred me awake.

"Laura, darlin'… the sheriff and his deputy are here. They wanna ask some questions about this mornin'."

My reddened eyes widened in surprise. "You called Scott?"

"Course not," he replied above a whisper. "Ya know how I feel about the law."

I sat up in bed. "How come they know what happened?"

James sighed. "'Cause Drake was on the road when he saw those two scumbags bargin' into the ranch. He waited outside, and when he heard the shot, he rode back to town to call for help."

"Oh. What about Ororo? Has anyone seen her?"

"No. She's in the hiding place, so don't take too long, alright? Pete told Summers that he's the one who shot Greycrow. Ya stick to that version, okay?"

I nodded and used my fingers to quickly comb my hair before allowing the two lawmen into the room. James stayed with me.

Scott entered first, followed closely by Bishop. One glance at my blackening eye was enough to make him flinch. Cleaning his throat, he greeted me, "Good afternoon, Miss Howlett." He seemed uncomfortable to be standing in a lady's room, but Logan had told them I was too sore to leave my bed. I suppose he didn't want me to see the mess of blood and brain mass in the kitchen. Up to this day, I don't know who cleaned that, or whether the Howletts were able to have lunch that afternoon.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," I managed to reply just as embarrassed. I had missed Scott terribly, but I didn't want him to see me hurt like that.

"I am -I mean, we are- very sorry to hear what happened to you this morning," the sheriff began. "You should know that a warranty on Victor Creed is being issued as we speak. It'd be very helpful if you could tell us what he and Greycrow said to you before Mr. Rasputin arrived."

I snorted at that, and the muscles in my face hurt. "Beside calling me names and threatening to kill me?"

"Why do you think they came for you, Miss Howlett?" Bishop inquired.

I tried not to look at Logan. "I-I don't know. I don't even know them," I answered. "I was preparing lunch, and before I knew it, they were bursting through the front door. I grabbed my pistol and told them to leave, but they…" I closed my eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, "they wouldn't."

"This is ridiculous! Ain't it obvious why two scumbags would attack a woman? To violate her!" James yelled, making me wince.

"We're aware of that, Logan," Scott replied patiently. "What we mean is, would there be another reason for them to pick your sister out of all the women in Fredericksburg? Revenge, perhaps?"

"Since when do thugs need a reason to act like animals, Summers? Laura is beautiful, and she was alone in this house. That's reason enough!"

The three men spent the next minute arguing amongst themselves, ignoring me completely. I gazed down at the blanket covering my lower body and felt silent tears running down my cheeks. I quickly cleaned them away.

"Gentlemen," the sheriff's voice raised above the others, "this argument is useless. May I please have a word with Miss Howlett in private?"

They stared at me again. James raised his eyebrows questioningly, and I nodded to let him know I was alright with that. "We'll be outside," he informed me.

Once we were alone in the room, Scott pulled a stool from under Kitty's vanity and sat in front of my bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he declared, "I'm truly sorry for what happened to you this morning, Miss Howlett… no woman should ever have to experience that. I'm glad that Peter Rasputin arrived in time to stop that bastard before he could hurt you further."

I smiled sadly. "Thank you."

"I know that talking about it must be hard, but it seems to be more to this story than meets the eye, and I need you to tell me truth, Laura… for once. I believe that you were attacked because of Logan… because Victor Creed hates him, and he suspects you're his lover and not his sister. Now, why would he think that?"

"I-I have no idea," I lied. I had to choose my words very carefully, for it was obvious that the sheriff was two steps ahead of me.

"Very well. As Logan's sibling, you must know why Mr. Creed loathes him so much. Tell me, so I can understand what's going on. It may help me to arrest him."

I sighed. "I wish I knew," I lied again, "but I don't. James and I have lived most of our lives separately. There's much we don't know about each other."

"But he knew that your fiancé died in a horse accident in Canada and invited you to come live with him in this ranch. How's that possible?"

"Because we had the habit of exchanging letters, that's how," I quickly made up.

"I see. So, if I ask Logan to see those letters, will he be able to show them to me?"

I tried to hide my panic. "I-I don't know. I don't think he's kept them."

Summers chuckled humorlessly. "No, I wouldn't think so."

I had never seen the sheriff acting so distantly, and that scared me. Clearly, he was very suspicious of me and James. Thus, I decided to steer the conversation away.

"How's Nate?"

He eyed me angrily. "Nathan is none of your business!"

His outburst both startled me and hurt me, prompting fresh tears to gather in my eyes. "Why are you doing this to me, Scott? Why are you being so cruel? I love you, and I thought that you-"

"Stop."

"Scott?"

"Stop it right now," he warned me. He retrieved a wrinkled poster from the pocket of his jacket, unfolded it, and handed it to me so I could stare at my own face under the words 'Wanted Alive'. "You look different in that picture, Laura. Or should I call you Mrs. Wyngarde?"

My blood froze in my veins. "Wh-what?"

The sheriff glanced down at his boots and snorted coldly. "It's kind of funny, you know? I'm not usually an easy man to trick, but you redheads seem to know your way around me."

"Redheads? Scott, what are you-"

"Nevertheless, I have to take my hat off to you, Jean. To seduce the town's sheriff so he wouldn't suspect you're a criminal while half the country's lawmen is searching for you…" he stared me in the eye and applauded me. "Bravo!"

I couldn't contain my tears any longer. "I-I didn't seduce you, Scott… not on purpose. I-"

"I guess it takes one lying lady to recognize another, after all," he interrupted me again. "Miss Frost… she saw right through you. She tried to open my eyes, you know? But I was so blinded by your charm that I couldn't see the truth even after she rubbed that picture on my face."

That blonde harlot! I had always suspected she had a thing for the sheriff.

"Scott, please, listen to me," I begged. "This is not what you think it is. I never planned on seducing you. I'm in love with you!"

"Of course, you are!" he exclaimed, his words full of irony. "Just like you are a schoolteacher, right?" I didn't reply, so he went on, "You may think I'm stupid, Jean, but months ago, when you started working for me, I sent a letter to Alberta's Educational Department. Their response arrived on the day after the Thanksgiving party, and guess what? There was never a Miss Laura Howlett among their board of students! Now, those reference papers you presented to me – that's forgery. But what's one more crime to add to your list, huh?"

There was no point in keep lying to him, so I tried to calm myself and use reason. "You don't understand it, Scott. I had no other option but to lie. My husband… he's not a good man. He tricked me into doing something horrible, and when I refused to, he tried to shoot me!"

"Sure, Jean… say whatever you want," he glanced around before looking at my face again. "Do you know what the worst part is? I trusted my son's life to you. I let a wanted criminal tutor him and take care of him. For that, I'll never forgive myself."

Of all the things Sheriff Summers has ever said to me, him implying that I could ever harm an innocent child is what's wounded me the most.

"I would never hurt Nate, Scott! I love him too much, just like I love-"

"Shut up!" he hissed, standing up abruptly. "I don't want to hear another lying word from you!"

I looked down, unable to stop my tears from falling on the poster in my hands. Scott walked to the open window, crossed his arms over his chest, and staring fixedly at the crops, said, "I'm going to ask this once, and I want an honest answer. Are you Logan's lover?"

"Why do you care?" I retorted spitefully. "It's not as if your bed's been empty lately."

His face spun in my direction. "Stay out of my affairs, Jean. I'm warning you."

"Gladly."

Scott's gaze returned to the corn crops. "Are you his lover or not?"

"No," I responded without hesitation.

"But you've slept with him."

"Yes."

I saw from the corner of my eye how Summers grimaced at hearing my answer. Why was I suddenly being honest to him, I had no clue. Maybe I was just sick of pretending… I was as good as dead already, so why not reveal the whole tale?

"It happened once, at the end of summer," I told him after I had wiped away my tears. "Creed ambushed my on the road, but Sam and Peter were able to scare him away. I felt insecure that night and went to Logan. That was it."

Scott looked surprised as he turned to me again. "Is that true?"

"It is," I nodded.

"You mean that today was not the first time Victor Creed has attacked you?"

"Unfortunately, no."

He ran his fingers through his perfectly combed hair. "This doesn't make sense, Jean. I'm the sheriff. Why didn't you tell me when it happened the first time? We could have arrested the bastard months ago."

I shrugged. "He works for Marshall Lehnsherr – it's not likely he'd be behind bars for long."

"You don't know that."

"I do. Besides, I couldn't afford having a man such as Lehnsherr looking my way."

"Is that all? Or you also didn't want the Marshall looking Logan's way? I know that he and Creed have known each other for a long time," the sheriff revealed, and I wondered if he knew about the opium trade.

"What difference does it make?" I asked tiredly.

"I'm just trying to understand the facts, Jean. Why's Logan helping you? I mean, given you're not lovers…"

"We're not!" I cried. "He's helping me because he's a good man, Scott! And unlike you, he knows that Jason and Shaw aren't."

"Well, that doesn't matter now, because once I notify the Marshall where you've been hiding, Logan and his family are going to be arrested as your accomplices," he informed me.

That was exactly what I had been afraid of all along. "Please, Scott, you can't do this! I'm begging you! I don't care if you hang me, but please keep the Howletts out of this! They have nothing to do with what I did to Shaw. I hadn't even met them back then!

He scratched his chin for a moment, thinking. "So someone… the Indian woman, or the Bavarian merchant perhaps… has brought you to Logan after that. That means they're acquainted."

It surprised me how much information the sheriff had gathered about my escaping. I had been a fool to imagine that I could ever have deceived that smart man for long.

I chose not to answer him, and he didn't push it. Instead, I tossed the poster and the covers away and stood up, stretching my wrists in his direction.

"Take me to jail," I said. "I'll accept whatever punishment the authorities decide to throw my way. Just promise me that you won't tell the Marshall where you've found me… for Kitty's and Peter's sake."

Scott looked taken aback. "I-I haven't come here to arrest you, Jean. Not today," he stated.

My fast-beating heart slowed down for a moment. "You haven't?"

"No. Not while some pieces of this puzzle are missing. Plus, I still have to arrange a separate cell for you – as mad as I am with you, I wouldn't just throw you in jail with a bunch of savage men," he explained, to which I felt very grateful. "But I do warn you not to try anything stupid – like running away, for instance. I don't think you'd manage to escape the law a second time."

"I won't," I assured him. "I'm tired of running. I'm ready to atone for my sins."

"Good." Without sparing me a second glance, Scott put on his cowboy hat and marched to the door.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I attacked Shaw?"

He halted but didn't bother to turn my way. "We already have your husband's testimony, Mrs. Wyngarde."

I laughed. "And you believed it?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Why wouldn't we? It matched Mr. and Mrs. Shaw's statement in every detail, not to mention Mr. Pierce's and Mr. Leland's. They all affirmed the same thing – that you were under the influence of alcohol and opium, and that you stroke Sebastian Shaw in spite because he refused to have an affair with you. It's all in the records."

"That's a lie!" I yelled outraged. "I would never have an affair with that monster! What happened is the exact opposite – he tried to rape me!"

The sheriff finally looked at me. "Given that your husband was in the next room, Jean, I find that hard to believe."

"Not all husbands are like you, Scott," I retorted. The fact that he had no faith in me made me feel devastated. "It's funny – not ten minutes ago, you said that no woman should ever have to experience that kind of abuse. Still, you prefer to believe in men like Shaw and Jason than in me."

He snorted. "And whose fault is that, Jean? You haven't given me a reason to trust you so far."

We just stared at each other for a moment, neither of us uttering a word. Finally, Scott turned around and walked back to the door.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Wyngarde."

He left, and I found myself alone and empty inside.

That night, I dreamed of golden flames that engulfed me completely; they burned me to ashes while everything around me remained unscathed – all the evil and injustice in the world kept intact. I woke up depressed and nauseous, and before I knew it, I was retching in my chamber-pot.