"This is so lovely," Eloise said, looking around the interior of the clinic. "I never would have expected something like this in this kind of town. Not that I've ever visited a town like this before so, I suppose how would I really know what to expect and…not that I'm saying the town isn't worthy..." She trailed off, conscious once again that she appeared to simply be espousing nonsense. How was it that she had previously considered herself to be someone capable of holding a sensible conversation and yet now, every word that came out of her mouth appeared to cement her feelings of being nothing short of imbecilic?

"Well, it's not exactly Boston," Michaela replied with a smile. "There was a time when I thought I'd never get used to it at all. I thought I'd made the biggest mistake of my life coming here. You've no idea how many times I considered simply turning around and heading back home."

"And now?"

"Now Colorado Springs is home. I can't imagine being anywhere else. On my last trip back to Boston I found the city so…different. So noisy and crowded." She smiled again. "Would you like to take a seat on the bed? I can have another look at your eye and any other injuries you might have."

"Oh, like I said, I don't have any other injuries," Eloise replied, sitting down carefully. "It's just my eye. I've never been struck like that before."

"Hopefully most women could say the same." Michaela lifted a lamp and shone it into her eyes. "What exactly happened?"

"I was looking for somewhere to stay when this…man…grabbed me from behind, threw me up against the wall and, well, tried to…" her body shuddered at the memory of his face close to hers, his hand on her leg, his tongue...

"I can't imagine anything so terrible. It's lucky you were able to escape."

"I likely wouldn't have if Hank hadn't been there."

"Hank?"

"He came to my rescue. I suppose he saved my life, in a way." She winced once more as Michaela pressed down on the area around her eye. "I don't like to think about what might have happened otherwise, though I confess I sometimes do."

Michaela pulled back from her. "Well, as I said earlier, there doesn't appear to be any damage beyond the bruising. I can give you that cream I mentioned which should help with the bruising and inflammation. Other than that, I'm afraid it's just a case of waiting for it to fade."

"How long will that take?"

"A few days, maybe more."

She grimaced. "Well, I suppose it's a talking point at least when I meet new people, if an unpleasant one."

Michaela lifted a small pot and handed it to her. "I also want you to rest when you can."

"But there's nothing wrong with me other than my eye."

"Not physically no, but I can only imagine how terrified you must have felt last night and, sometimes, those feelings can stay with a person long after the event is over."

"I hadn't really thought about it like that." She turned the pot over in her hand, her attacker's face suddenly swimming once more into her mind's eye until she shook her head to banish him. "How much do I owe you for this?"

"Nothing, to make up for the trouble you've had as a visitor to our town."

"Thank you," she replied, rising to her feet and sliding it into her pocket. "Everyone I've met in town so far has been very kind. Hank didn't ask me to pay for my drinks last night either."

Michaela frowned, "Drinks?"

"In the saloon."

"The saloon?"

"Yes, he rented me a room. He explained that there's no hotel in town and that this used to be the boarding house before it became your clinic and, well…I suppose I didn't really have any other options."

"You stayed at the saloon?"

"Yes." She paused, concerned by the other woman's response. "Should I not have?"

"Well, I suppose it's an understandable choice given the circumstances, but you're more than welcome to stay in one of the rooms upstairs here. I don't have any patients, and you wouldn't be disturbed."

"Oh, that's very kind of you, but I told Hank that I would take the room for at least another night."

"I'm sure he'd understand."

"I'm sure he would, but…it would seem ungrateful when he's done so much for me. He's drawing a bath for me as we speak." She laughed over the words, then stopped when she saw the other woman wasn't sharing in her mirth.

"Miss Ward…

"Oh, please call me Eloise. Miss Ward seems so formal."

"Eloise…Hank has a certain reputation in town."

"What sort of reputation?"

"Well, he…owns the saloon and…" Michaela looked at her meaningfully.

"Oh, you mean…?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not about to do anything like that," she laughed. "I'm merely staying there."

"And you don't have to. Don't you think it would be better, more proper, for you to stay here?"

"I…" she felt her head start to swim. Michaela's gaze was kind, yet reproachful, and she suddenly felt as though she were a teenager rather than a grown woman allegedly capable of making her own decisions.

Perhaps her agreeing to stay at the saloon had been the wrong choice. Perhaps she should have refused and slept in the street. Perhaps her trust in Hank was misplaced. Perhaps she was putting herself in some sort of danger…

"Eloise?"

"I'm sorry, I…there's been a lot to think about recently."

"I understand," Michaela put her hand on her arm. "The offer is there, should you want to take it."

"I appreciate that, thank you. Perhaps…perhaps I could stay at the saloon again tonight and then come to stay here tomorrow night? If there's no stage out of town for a few days…"

Michaela smiled again, "Whatever you think is best."

"Yes, thank you. I…thank you." Opening the clinic door, she stepped back out into the warm sunshine and let out a long breath, her eyes instantly drawn to the doors of the saloon opposite and all the questions began coursing through her mind again.

What in God's name was she doing in such a place? Where on earth did she go from here? What were her parents thinking about her? Was she risking her safety? Was there anyone she could really trust? She felt as though she could trust Hank but…

Crossing the street, she paused at the doors of the saloon, listening once more to the raucous conversations within, Michaela's words floating around in her head. If she was being sensible and true to her social standing, she would go inside, retrieve her belongings and tell Hank that she was moving to the clinic. After all, hadn't it been he who had said that a person didn't always need to consider another's feelings? Even were he to be offended, should that be her concern?

As she stood procrastinating, she suddenly caught sight of him at the bar and his gaze slowly slid to meet her own, his eyebrows raising questioningly at her. Taking a breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, ignoring the looks some of the customers threw her. As she approached the bar, Hank's face broke into a smile that she found, despite everything, she couldn't help returning.

"How'd it go with the doc?"

"Fine. She gave me the cream she mentioned. Hopefully my face will look better in a couple of days." She paused as he nodded, and she found herself on the cusp of telling him what Michaela had said about him. Then suddenly she thought better of it. After all, she barely knew these people, any of them, and likely wouldn't be in town long. It was hardly her place to cause division.

"Bath's ready whenever ya are." There was something in the way he said the words that caused a ripple to go through her body, the unfamiliar sensation she had experienced before, and she felt her cheeks redden again. "I'll show ya the way."

Wordlessly she followed him out of the bar and along the corridor to a room at the far end where a large metal tub sat, filled to the brim with hot water, the very sight of it bringing her more joy than she could have imagined. "Thank you. I really do appreciate this."

"Yer welcome. Don't forget to lock the door."

He was gone before she could say anything else. Sliding her clothes from her body, she stepped into the enveloping warmth and, for a short time, forgot about everything else.

XXXX

Hank was having a hard time not thinking about her being in the bath.

After closing the door behind himself, and waiting to hear the click of the lock, he had stood there listening to the soft sounds from within. The dropping of clothes onto the floor, the slosh of the water as she climbed into the tub, the splashing as she washed herself. Eventually, he had moved away back into the bar, hoping that nobody would be able to tell what his thoughts had been.

He remembered a time, so many years ago now, Clarice lying in the bath, her belly full and rounded with child. She had asked him to wash her because she felt fat and unable to reach all the important places. He had told her no, and now he wasn't sure why.

Ellie was attractive, he had to give her that. Those eyes, that hair…and he had a fair idea what she might look like out of those dresses. If she had looser morals, he certainly wouldn't object to taking her to bed, had she been willing of course. But she was a lady after all.

"Hey Hank!" Jake called from across the room. "When's the next big poker game?"

"Monday."

"Why not tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's Sunday, Jake."

"So?"

"Day of rest." He poured himself a whisky and lit up a Cheroot, smiling at the irritated look on the other man's face. "We all gotta have one."

"Yer whole life's a day of rest."

"Ain't gonna argue with you on that score."

As if the universe had been listening, the next few moments were taken up with a sudden influx of customers all wanting served at the one time and he had quite lost track of his guest, until his attention was suddenly diverted by her appearance at the back of the bar. Though the dark mark on her face was still prominent, she looked brighter than she had done earlier, the soak in the bath having clearly been of some benefit. Her gaze was hesitant, however and, upon seeing him she moved across the floor to the bar, ignoring the others around her.

"Feelin' better?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you, the bath was perfect." She paused. "I was wondering if I could do anything to help."

He paused, halfway through pouring another shot and looked at her. "Help?"

"Yes, by way of thanks for everything you've done for me since I arrived here."

"What sort of…help…did ya have in mind?"

"Well…" she glanced around. "I mean, I certainly wasn't suggesting that I…uh…entertain…but I could…clear tables, perhaps?"

"Clear tables." She nodded, her expression earnest and yet he could tell behind her eyes that the offer was being made because she felt she had to, rather than because she wanted to. "Ya don't gotta be clearin' tables or doin' nothin'. Yer a payin' guest and payin' guests don't gotta work."

"I know, but I've always worked for as long as I can remember and, well, making a hat would probably take me more time than I'm going to be here, and I doubt I could make one to suit you, so I thought…" she trailed off. "I'm sorry, I'm being ridiculous."

"Come here," he said, moving around the side of the bar and walking towards the saloon doors, glancing back to make sure she was following him. "Now, git out."

Her eyes widened, "I…"

"Git out," he repeated. "Go walk round the town or somethin', meet some folk, take in the sights." She stared at him. "Yer bad for business."

"Bad for business? I don't…"

"Can't charge nothin' fer ya, not that folk wouldn't pay top dollar to git yer skirts up. Fact is, ya go around tryin to clear tables and there's men in here that won't be able to keep their hands to themselves. Protectin' ladies' honours ain't something I'm equipped to do on a full-time basis."

"Oh," she said, realisation dawning on her face. "I didn't think about that. I suppose I've never really thought of myself as someone that men might want to…not that I'm saying that they would want to…" she put her hands over her face and for an uncomfortable moment, he wasn't sure if she was weeping.

"Go on," he said, more gently. "Shame to be stuck indoors all day when the sun's up."

Pulling her hands down, she met his gaze again, her expression troubled. "There's something I have to tell you."

"Ain't likin' how this conversation's startin'. If yer about to tell me yer in the family way, I ain't guilty."

"What?" Her face reddened again. "No, I…that's not…"

"Just a joke, Ellie."

"It's just that, well, Dr Quinn suggested that I stay at the clinic."

"Thought it was just yer eye."

"No…I mean, it is…I mean, there's nothing else wrong with me. She just suggested that it might be better for me to stay in one of the rooms upstairs there rather than…well…rather than take up one of yours."

Good old Michaela, he thought, always stickin' her nose in.

"What do ya think ya oughta be doin'?"

"I…I suppose it might be for the best. After all, if I'm bad for business…but I want to stay at the saloon tonight, as agreed," she looked at him earnestly. "If that would still be alright, that is."

"Ain't one to go back on an agreement," he lied. "Welcome to stay as long as you like. Dollar a night."

She nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Thank you."

"Now go on, git out of here and find somethin' to occupy yer time."

"Alright, thank you. I'm s…" she broke off before saying the word, her face creasing into another apologetic smile before she turned and stepped down into the street, looking right and left before selecting her direction, casting him a brief wave as she disappeared from view.

"Woman's crazy," he muttered to himself, pushing the door back open. "Completely crazy."

XXXX

The day was so blissfully warm and sunny that, walking around the town, she quite forgot about all the many and varied problems taking up space in her brain. It was as though Colorado Springs was capable of casting some sort of spell over people with its charm. She had always considered frontier towns to be cramped, dirty and uninviting and, whilst part of that was likely true, she couldn't help but think how wrong she had been, at least about this one.

As she made her way across a bridge, she saw the church and instinctively found herself drawn towards it. It was a simple building in comparison to the many ornate offerings in San Francisco, but there was something about it that radiated a warmth and helped lift her spirits. Pausing to admire it, she suddenly became aware of footsteps behind her and, turning quickly, caught sight of a man that, by the very nature of his garb, could only have been the town's spiritual leader.

"Well, hello there," he said warmly. "I heard we had a new face in town. I'm Reverend Timothy Johnstone."

He held out his hand for her to shake and she returned the gesture. "Eloise Ward."

"Welcome! You were admiring the church?"

"It's a lovely building," she said, craning her neck to look up at the steeple. "You must be very proud of it."

"Of course. A church is the heart of any community, and we like to think of ours as being extra special. Do you attend back home in…?"

"San Francisco," she supplied. "Yes, every Sunday, though I have to confess that sometimes the sermons are less than…engaging."

He laughed, "That can so often be the case. Here, I try to make Sunday service both interesting and informative. How often I succeed is likely not for me to say. I'd love for you to join us tomorrow if you're able."

"I'd like that," she replied, her fingers straying to her face again. Despite her appearance, perhaps coming before God might in some way help show her what her next steps should be, as well as going some way to assuaging the overall feeling of guilt she had about what she had done.

"I heard you had an altercation when you arrived last night."

"You could call it that. I'm not likely to be able to hide this for some time yet."

"Well, I can assure you that you are in no way to blame for what happened and folks recognise that."

"That's…good to hear," she replied, despite his words only serving to confirm that clearly everyone in town knew about her and what had befallen her. "I'm grateful to Hank for rescuing me the way he did."

"Yes…"

"He told me you had a wedding here yesterday," she said brightly, hoping to change the subject to something more pleasing. "People from the town?"

"Yes, Horace and Myra."

"It must be lovely, a wedding in a small place like this. Everyone coming together to celebrate people they know and love. It's not quite the same in the big city, and I've been to my fair share of weddings."

"It certainly was a joyous day," the Reverend said. "Did…did Hank say anything else to you about it? The wedding that is, or the couple?"

"No, should he have?"

"No, no, I was just…curious." He smiled at her again. "Well, it was lovely to make your acquaintance Miss Ward, and I look forward to welcoming you to our service tomorrow."

"And yours Reverend, thank you." She watched as he walked away, gratified by how pleasant he had been towards her, but also finding herself increasingly curious about a certain wedding.