Hank talked as they promenaded along the street, pointing out various buildings on the way and offering greetings to people they passed. Most looked at her with surprise and confusion, no doubt brought about by the bruising on her face. Part of her wanted to hide, cover herself until she looked more 'acceptable' again, but another part of her knew that she shouldn't feel ashamed because of something someone else had chosen to do to her against her will. Her companion seemed to have little concern that, being in her company, people might have considered him the perpetrator and she wasn't entirely sure what she thought about that.

"Is there a bathhouse?" she heard herself asking and then immediately felt ridiculous.

"Bathhouse? No, ain't got one of those in town." He looked at her sideways again. "Ya think ya need cleanin' up?"

"I know I do. Travelling all the way from San Francisco with only water and a flannel isn't exactly ideal. I know I looked a fright even before what happened last night."

"Look alright to me."

Meeting his gaze again, she felt something unfamiliar stir inside her, something she had never felt when looking at any other man, least of all Thomas, but pushed whatever it was or meant to the back of her mind. "That's kind of you to say, but…"

"I can sort that for ya after breakfast."

"You can?" He nodded. "I'd be grateful, thank you."

"No problem."

Grace's Café wasn't what she had expected, but then she wasn't sure on what that expectation had been based. It was set outdoors with a number of tables dotted around covered with chequered tablecloths and vases of fresh flowers. There were ribbons and banners too and, at the stove to one side, she saw a coloured woman stirring a pot. Plenty of people were already sitting and eating and though she had been there for less than a day, it somehow gave her a warm feeling of belonging, as though it were the heart of the town, not something easily found in a place like San Francisco which was so vast and contained so many people.

"What d'ya think?" Hank asked as they approached. "Won't be as fancy as any place ya got back home but…"

"It's lovely," she replied honestly, "and so nicely decorated."

"Yeah well, there was a weddin' here yesterday so…" he trailed off as the woman turned and then moved towards them, her eyes narrowing as she approached "Mornin' Grace."

"Hank…" she greeted him, her voice dripping with suspicion, her gaze flitting between them.

"This here is Eloise," he gestured to her. "Came in on the stage last night from Denver and unfortunately made the acquaintance of a rather unsavoury fella."

"Oh, my Lord, how awful!" Grace shook her head. "Your face…are you alright?"

"I'm fine, thanks to Hank," she replied, watching as the other woman's eyebrows shot up at the compliment. "He was kind enough to rescue me before any further damage could be done."

"Always bin known fer bein' a white knight, ain't that right, Grace?"

"Hmmm…if you say so. Anyways, looking for some breakfast?"

"Ain't no other reason we'd be here."

"Well, take a seat and I'll be over in a minute."

Once more, he gestured for her to go first and she threaded her way to an empty table, surprised yet again when he pulled the chair out for her to sit. As he slid in opposite, she found herself somewhat ashamedly thinking that, on first appearance, she hadn't considered him to be the kind of man who would be so chivalrous. But then, as she was quickly coming to realise, he was like no man she had ever met before on so many levels.

Feeling the eyes of others in the café upon her, she touched her face self-consciously.

"It don't look so bad," Hank said.

"It looked pretty bad in the mirror this morning. But I suppose I'll just have to live with it." She paused. "You didn't seem concerned about walking with me."

"Why would I?"

"Well…people might have thought you were responsible." The words having been spoken, she immediately wished that she could take them back. He had been so good and kind to her and she was effectively now saying that he appeared the kind of man who would inflict pain the likes of which was still causing her face to throb. She felt her cheeks suddenly redden and ducked her head, so she didn't have to see his reaction.

"Weren't fussed about it cause folks round here know me and know I don't go around strikin' women for the sport of it."

His words, though said softly and without recrimination, only succeeded in making her feel worse and, letting out a deep breath, she sat forwards and put her head in her hands. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I…I am grateful for what you've done and…" She broke off, pressing her fingers into her eye sockets until the darkness danced around in her vision. "Maybe I should just go."

"Where ya gonna go? Stage don't run for another three days. Unless yer minded to buy a horse and ride on back to Denver, options are kinda limited." She looked at him again and he raised his eyebrows at her. "S'ides, had a lot worse accusations thrown at me in my time so, don't bother me none what ya might think about me."

"I don't think..." she broke off again. Anything she said could only succeed in making the whole situation worse. Glancing around at their surroundings, she fought for a different topic. "Whose wedding was it?"

"What?"

"You said there was a wedding here yesterday. I'm just wondering who it was who got married?"

He paused for a long moment, his expression growing drawn. "Townsfolk. Horace and Myra. Anyways…more interested in finding out about what brought ya to town, not that yer under any obligation to tell me if ya don't want to."

His words brought the reality of her own situation back to the forefront of her mind and she found herself almost at a loss for explanation. "It's…I'm not sure where to even start."

"Howsabout at the beginning?"

"Well, I got oatmeal, bacon and eggs or grits," Grace interrupted them as she approached the table, setting down two cups and pouring steaming coffee into them. "What do you fancy?"

"I haven't had grits in I don't know long," Eloise said, her stomach growling again.

"Grits it is then. Hank?"

"I'll take the same."

"Good choice."

"So?" he enquired, when they were alone again.

It seemed a strange notion, unburdening herself to someone she barely knew, especially a man, but there was something in the way that he was looking at her, something in his eyes, even after what she had said, that made her want to tell him everything, or as close to everything as seemed proper in the circumstances. "My parents wanted me to get married and…well…I didn't want to so…"

"He weren't a nice fella?"

"No, I mean yes, he is…nice, at least I think he is, but I don't…care for him in that way, and we would never have been happy together, I don't think, so…I ran away." He raised his eyebrows. "I suppose that makes me a coward."

"Colorado Springs is a funny place to run to if ya don't know folks."

"I was only planning on going as far as Denver but, when I got there, I saw someone I recognised and…I suppose I panicked. The stage was there so I took it." She shrugged. "I'm not an impetuous person by nature so I'm not exactly sure what I was thinking. I still don't."

"What about this fella?"

"His name's Thomas Lewis, he's a banker and…there's not really a lot else to tell." Looking at Hank again she was poised to explain that they couldn't have appeared more different, but stopped herself from doing so given her seeming propensity to cause offence.

"Bankers got plenty money."

"I suppose."

"Can keep a woman like ya in nice dresses and hats and…"

"I make my own hats," she said quickly. "I'm a milliner. My father's a tailor and I work in his store. I have done for years now."

"Woman with a talent."

She felt her cheeks redden again at the compliment. "I suppose so." Grace returned at that moment with their food and the next few minutes were spent trying to not make herself appear as though she was starving. It tasted even better than she could have imagined and, almost immediately, she felt more like herself again, though clearly, given her companion's soft laugh, she hadn't hidden her hunger well enough.

"Don't choke yerself."

Embarrassment flooded her and she put her fork down. "I'm sorry…"

"Nice to see a woman who can eat. Not like some who just pick at it like they ain't sure they should. Brought some colour back to yer cheeks too."

"I think that might just be shame."

"Nothin' to be ashamed about."

"You seem very wise," she said, looking at him carefully. "Are you noted for that in this town?"

He laughed then, and it had such a rich quality to it that it brought back that unfamiliar sensation to her body once more, as did the way he held her gaze. "I'd like to see folks faces if ya asked them that about me."

"Well, I…"

"Michaela!" His gaze slid over her shoulder and his shout caused her to jump slightly. "Got a patient for ya over here!"

Turning in her chair, she saw another woman coming into the café, followed by two younger children. She paused, and then made her way over to the table, her brow furrowing as she approached. "Hank…is everything all right?"

"This here's Eloise Ward from San Francisco. Reckon she could use some of yer doctorin'."

"I would say you're right," the other woman smiled. "I'm Dr Michaela Quinn."

"Eloise Ward as…as he said."

"That looks painful."

"It is."

"Do you mind if I take a quick look?" she shook her head, allowing the other woman to reach over and press down gently under her eye, causing her to wince again. "I know that's sore, but it doesn't feel as though anything's broken. I'm afraid with injuries like these, all you can do is wait for the bruising and inflammation to go down. I do have some cream that I can give you though that should help with the appearance."

"That would be kind, thank you."

Michaela's gaze slid to Hank. "What happened?"

She opened her mouth, but Hank responded first. "Met a fella last night who thought he could take what didn't belong to him."

"Oh my…are you hurt anywhere else?"

"No," Eloise replied.

"Well, why don't you stop by the clinic later. I can examine you properly and give you the cream."

"Thank you, I will." She watched as the other woman walked away and then turned back to her companion. "Is she…?"

"Oh, she ain't from around here. Came all the way from Boston to set up a clinic and generally poke her nose into folks business. Fact is, two of ya probably got a lot in common. On account of ya both being from big cities, that is. Not suggestin' ya got an interferin' streak about ya."

She heard herself laugh then, and suddenly realised it was the first time she had done so in such a long time.

"That's better," he said, smiling at her in that way again. "Now, if yer finished, I can look to sort out that bath for ya."

XXXX

They fell into step once more as they made their way out of the café, and he found himself even more intrigued by her than he had been. It wasn't exactly common for people, anyone, to open up to him about anything, least of all a woman, but for some reason, one he could only put down to her apparent naivety of the opposite sex, and her gratitude towards him, she seemed inclined to want to confide in him, not to mention apologise.

"I am sorry, for what I said before about people thinking you might have done this to me. Like I said, I don't know why I thought to say it and…it was rude and ungrateful after what you've done…"

"Do this often, do ya?"

"Do what?"

"Over apologise."

Eloise stopped and turned to look at him, shading her eyes against the sun. "I don't think I over apologise, but you have to say sorry when you've done something wrong."

"Never said ya done anything wrong."

"No, not in so many words but…"

"Don't always gotta worry about other people's feelin's."

"Don't you?"

"Nope. Ain't yer responsibility."

"Well…" she started walking again. "I suppose I never thought about it like that. My parents raised me to always be mindful of them and others and not speak out of turn."

"That how they talked ya into marryin' someone ya didn't want to marry?"

"Perhaps," she looked away. "There were other reasons too."

"Like what?"

"Money."

"Yers or his?"

"Both, I suppose. My parents told me that Thomas and his family would invest in my father's business if I married him. Without that investment, apparently, we would have suffered financial hardship and…" she let out a long breath, "I suppose the fact that I haven't married him means that won't have changed." She stopped walking again and put her hands over her face. "Oh Lord…I don't know what to do."

"First thing yer gonna do is go and see Michaela about yer face. Then yer gonna come back to the saloon and clean up. After that…ya can decide what ya oughta do about other matters. Hey…" he ducked his head. "Ya listening to me?"

She pulled her hands away and met his gaze again. "Why are you being so nice to me? You don't even know me and yet, here I am, telling you all my woes..."

"Yer sayin' ya'd rather I wasn't nice to ya?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"No, but…oh I don't know, I think it's clear from my behaviour this morning that I don't know what I'm saying or who I'm saying it to. Sorry…" she said again, then closed her eyes in obvious frustration at having proved his ultimate point.

Gently, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her body in the correct direction of travel. "Clinic's that way." She nodded and then let out another long breath before heading across the street, climbing the steps and ringing the bell. He waited until the door opened and she had stepped inside before going back into the saloon where the girls were finally up and dressed and a few hardy drinkers were already partaking.

"She stayin' again tonight?" one of the more forward girls asked as he moved over to the bar and poured himself a whisky.

"Who?"

"That lady what came in last night."

"Probably. Got a problem with that?"

"Is she workin?"

"Not like yer supposed to be, not that I can see much workin' going on." He looked at her pointedly, and she moved away from him over to where an older gentleman was sat in the corner, perching herself on his knee with practiced ease.

It wasn't exactly something he could see Miss Eloise Ward doing.

Having promised a bath, he knew he only had a short time to deliver and as the water boiled, he found himself standing at the door of her room, his hand once more on the door handle. A gentle turn revealed that she hadn't locked it, something he would need to remind her of. Though they knew the rules, working girls could be notoriously light-fingered.

Except for Myra. She had never taken anything that hadn't belonged to her, her sense of right and wrong always on point. Though it had often irritated him, deep down he had admired her for that. That, and so many other things. She would be waking up that morning, her first full day as Mrs Bing. No doubt she'd be fixing Horace his breakfast, if they were even out of bed yet and he couldn't help but wonder what the wedding night had looked like. It was practically unheard of for a woman to have more experience in that area of life than a man, unless of course she'd been a working girl, but most working girls never got married, no sensible man willing to take them on as wives. The thought of Myra having to teach Horace the basic elements of lovemaking would have been humorous had the whole thing not still hurt some.

"Anyways…" he muttered to himself, moving down the corridor to where the bathtub was located. His guest…Ellie…she didn't need to know anything about any of that.