The morning stretched into afternoon stretched into early evening and by the time she was on her way back to the saloon, Eloise felt as though she had explored the town thoroughly from one end to the other. She had walked around the meadow, skirted the edge of the immigrant camp and shielded her eyes from the sun's glare to look at the army tents in the distance. People had smiled and nodded to her as she had passed them and though she hoped they were simply being friendly, she couldn't help but wonder if, like the minister, they all knew the circumstances of her arrival. At least only Hank knew the full story. A woman passing through from San Francisco was one thing, a woman who had fled an impending wedding was quite another.

As she made her way back down the street, she paused outside the mercantile store and then decided to go inside, an older gentleman greeting her as she crossed the threshold.

"I wondered when you'd be coming in here," he said, coming around the counter. "I heard we had a visitor from San Francisco."

"That would be me."

"Loren Bray, pleased to meet you."

"Eloise Ward." She glanced around at the wares within, nothing like what one could purchase in the city, but an acceptable choice, nonetheless.

"Heard you had some bother outside the saloon last night."

"You could say that."

"Nasty business, and not what our town's about, not at all."

"No, I've gathered that," she replied. "Everyone I've met so far, with the exception of that…man…has been very welcoming. You have a lovely town."

"I don't suppose it compares much to the big city."

"It's different, but that's not always a bad thing."

"Well, you take your time and look around," he smiled at her, "and if I can help you with anything, just you let me know."

"I will, thank you," she replied, moving around into the far corners of the store, noting the candy, toys and fabric to be found within. At the back, she could see a shelf full of hats, all in different colours and the familiarity of the object drew her to them. They were simple enough hats, nothing ostentatious that would be out of place in a frontier town, but pretty, nevertheless. As she picked up a green one, she noticed a woman watching her from the other side of the room and offered a smile by way of greeting.

"It's a lovely colour," the woman said, moving over to join her. "I reckon it would suit you. You got hair like mine and we redheads always suit green."

"Yes, it is lovely and, you're right that we do, but I actually make my own hats," Eloise replied, placing it carefully back onto the shelf.

"You do?"

"Yes, I'm a milliner to trade."

"How wonderful to have such a talent," the woman smiled, holding out her hand. "I'm Dorothy Jennings."

"Eloise Ward."

"From San Francisco? I heard we had a visitor in town. Your poor face though," Dorothy tutted. "I guess there ain't no understanding some men, and I should know."

"Are you and Mr Bray…?"

"Oh, heavens no! Loren was married to my sister, Maud, God rest her soul. I was fortunate enough that he was willing to take me in when I left my husband and now, I'm the editor of the local Gazette." She gestured to the printing press at the back of the store. "In fact, I was thinking about printing a story about what happened to you last night, so that folks can keep a look out for the man in question."

"Oh…oh no, there's no need for that," Eloise replied.

"I believe there's every need. We can't have men acting like that in our town, thinking that they can abuse a woman whenever they want to."

"I'm fairly certain that, whoever he is, he won't be back. Hank saw to that."

"Yes…it ain't often that Hank Lawson is the hero of the piece, I have to tell you that. More likely to be causing the trouble rather than stopping it."

"Oh?" she found herself intrigued by the other woman's words, particularly coming after what Dr Quinn had told her. "Why, because he owns the saloon?"

"Well, if there's trouble in town, nine times out of ten it starts in the saloon." Dorothy took a pencil from behind her ear. "Perhaps I could interview you for my article. Get a first-hand account of what happened?"

"I'm really not…I mean, it's not something that I'm particularly keen to re-live."

"I can understand that, but it might help catch him."

"I'd really rather not," she said, panic starting to rise in her chest. "I'd prefer to forget all about it, excuse me."

"Oh, Miss Ward, I'm sorry," Dorothy said, as she made to move past her. "I don't want to upset you, and I shouldn't have suggested it, please forgive me." Eloise paused. "Like I said, I know what it's like to be on the wrong end of a man's anger and I likely wouldn't have wanted it printed about neither. I'm so sorry."

"It's quite alright," Eloise replied. "I know you didn't mean any harm, it's just…"

"I completely understand, and we'll say no more about it," Dorothy said. "Anyways, are you planning on staying in town long?"

"I'm not sure yet," she replied. "I've a few more days before the next stage leaves town so…"

"Oh, plenty of time to decide. Will you be joining us at church tomorrow?"

"Yes, I spoke with Reverend Johnstone earlier."

"Splendid, well, I'll look forward to seeing you again then."

"Thank you," she said, moving back to the front of the store, and impulsively purchasing some candy, before stepping back out into the warm evening air and letting out a long breath, grateful that the other woman hadn't insisted on printing her story. Not only was she uncomfortable about strangers knowing what had happened to her, but who knew who might pick up on the article, even if it were only a local paper.

Slipping the package of candy into her pocket, she crossed the street and made her way back to the saloon, a surprising feeling of calm settling over her as she pushed open its doors.

XXXX

Darkness having fallen and midnight fast approaching, Hank was keen for the last few remaining stragglers to get out of the saloon. They were long past the stage of spending any money and the girls had already retired for the night, meaning they were keeping him from his own bed.

"C'mon fellas, we're closin' up. Ain't ya got homes to go to?" The two men in question looked up at him, their faces bleary with the effect of drink. "Everyone else has already left. Time fer ya to git out."

"C'mon Hank, one more," one of them pleaded, waving an empty glass at him.

"Anymore and I's gonna have to carry ya out. Ain't up for doin' that tonight so, go on, git out."

"What about yer girls?" the other man asked. "I'm needin' entertainin'."

"Had yer chance earlier this evenin'. S'ides, they've all gone to bed, and ya've got a wife at home waitin' for ya."

"Ain't gonna git much entertainin' out of her. What about that one? She's still up."

Hank turned to look where he was pointing, only to see Eloise hovering at the back of the saloon. "She ain't a whore, she's a guest here."

"So what, she's a woman, ain't she?"

"She ain't any kind of woman for ya, so, c'mon, let's go."

Amidst a great deal more grumbling, both men eventually got to their feet and lurched towards the door, the larger of the two turning back when he got there and pointing at her. "I'll be back for you."

"Go on, git out," Hank said, pushing him out gently but firmly, then turning back to where Eloise was still standing. "Whatcha doin' hangin' around there? If I ain't have bin here, what do ya think they might have tried to do?"

"I…I don't know."

"Well, I can tell ya, not that I think ya'd like to hear it." He lifted the empty glasses from the table and took them over to the bar. "Don't know why ya'd hide in yer room all evenin' and then choose to come out now."

"It was quiet so I thought…I suppose I thought no-one would be here."

"Plannin' to rob me of some whisky?"

"No, of course not. I assumed you'd be here."

"Seekin' out my company then?" he raised his eyebrows at her, watching as her face coloured once more.

"No, I…I don't know. I'm sorry, I'll go."

"Hold on!" he called as she turned to leave. "Sit down."

"No, I…"

"Just do it," he insisted, pointing to one of the empty chairs. To his surprise, she did as bidden and he joined her, lifting a bottle and two clean glasses as he did so. Pouring one for her, he slid it across the table. "Here."

"No, thank you."

"Weren't refusin' last night."

"That was different," she replied. "I don't usually drink alcohol."

"Suit yerself," he said, pulling the glass back across the table and downing it himself. "How'd ya find the town? Didn't say much when ya got back earlier."

"Well, it was busy, and I didn't want to disturb you. As for the town…it's very lovely, as are all the people I've met so far."

"Like who?"

"Mr Bray, Ms Jennings, Reverend Johnstone…"

"Well, there's still time. The Rev talked ya in to goin' to church tomorrow?"

"I thought I would, yes." She paused. "I take it you don't attend?"

"Ain't never bin one for the good Lord," he replied, pouring another whisky. "Never done nothin' for me yet."

"Maybe that's because you haven't done anything for him."

"Maybes." He sat back and looked at her, noticing that her face was paler than it had been earlier, the bruising on her face starker somehow, and she seemed ill at ease. "Somethin' bothering ya?"

"Like what?" He shrugged, watching as her gaze flitted around the room, unsure where to land. "Ms Jennings wanted to write an article about me for her paper."

"What kind of article?"

"About what happened last night."

"And ya don't want that."

"I don't particularly want it written down that I was attacked, no, even if it would help catch who was responsible because…well…what would be the point? I can't imagine the law would be interested. Besides, other people might read it."

"Other people bein' folks not in this town? Other people bein' like yer fella Thomas Lewis?" She nodded. "Chance of news from Colorado Springs makin' it all the way to San Francisco ain't too likely now, is it?"

"I suppose not."

"S'ides, if he thought ya'd bin hurt, wouldn't he want to come and make sure ya was alright?"

"Maybe that's more what I'm afraid of than any shame I might feel." She paused and looked at him. "People in town…"

"People in town what?" he asked, when she didn't continue.

"Well, they…when I mentioned you, they…"

"Mentioned me how?"

"In relation to what you did for me. They seemed to think it was somewhat…out of character." She paused and looked at him again, her expression almost one of fear, as if he might rebuke her for her words. "That you were more inclined to start trouble rather than stop it."

"It's a fair assessment," he nodded, pouring another glass. "What's yers?"

"About you?" He nodded. "Well, I can only go by what I've seen and, you saved my life and gave me somewhere to stay…proper or not, I suppose…I suppose I feel safe with you." Her face coloured again immediately the words left her mouth. "I shouldn't say that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know you."

"What do ya want to know?"

"Have you ever been married?"

It wasn't the question he had expected and found himself laughing at how quickly it had come out of her mouth, "That's the first question ya wanna ask a man when tryin' to git to know him better?"

"Sorry," she ducked her head. "I didn't mean to be inappropriate."

He lit up a Cheroot and blew smoke into the air. "Nope, never bin married. Ain't got no inclination for it."

"Then…you've never been in love."

He paused, surprised by her statement, bold as it sounded coming from someone who seemed so cautious about what she was saying. "Never said that." Her eyes widened in surprise, and he could tell she was poised to ask more about a topic he wasn't comfortable discussing with her. For all she didn't know him, he didn't know her either. "Anyways, reckon it's time fer ya to turn in." She hesitated for the briefest of moments and he pointed to the door. "Goodnight."

Slowly, she rose to her feet. "Goodnight, Hank."

When she had disappeared from view, he let out a long breath and stubbed out the Cheroot, busying himself with the clearing and tidying, lifting the chairs onto the tables, closing and locking the doors. As he worked, he thought about what she had said and the implications of it. To her mind, a person had to be in love to get married, evidenced by her fleeing her own impending nuptials and, by extension, if a person was in love, then the natural step to take was to get married. He'd never really given it much thought before. Clarice had never been interested in getting married and Myra…well, she had made it quite clear that marriage was something she wanted, only not to him, not that he would have offered it in any event.

But he had loved them both.

Finally, the work done, he locked up the money box and made his way out of the bar towards his own bedroom, pausing as he did so as a strange sound reached his ears. It was muffled and sounded like someone moaning making him think, for a brief moment, that one of the girls had gone behind his back and snuck a lover in when he wasn't looking. That sort of thing just wasn't done, not without payment and he was about to start banging on doors, when the muffled sound came again, louder, sounding like no passion he'd ever heard before and suddenly morphed into screaming.

Instinctively, he knew where it was coming from, and he hurried down the corridor, grabbing hold of the door handle and twisting it, only to find it locked, just as he had told her. "Ellie?" The screaming came again, and he pushed his weight against the door, causing it to shift, but not break. "Ellie!" He thudded against it once, twice, three times before the wood splintered under his effort and he half fell into the room, raising his gun, ready to shoot whoever the intruder was.

To his surprise, the room was empty, save for Eloise flailing around in the bed screaming, the bedsheets tangled around her, and he quickly realised that she was in the grip of a nightmare. Moving closer, he reached for her. "Ellie…Ellie, wake up. Ellie…" she tossed against him, her eyes still closed. "Ellie…Ellie!" Gripping her shoulders, he pinned her down onto the bed, "Ellie, wake up!"

Her eyes suddenly flew open, and she took in a large breath, before fighting hard against him, displaying a strength he would never have attributed to her, pushing him up off of her and across the room to the far wall. "No!" she screamed as he thudded back against it. "No!"

"Ellie!" She twisted away from him and ran towards the door, but he was fast enough to be able to stop her, throwing his arm around her waist and dragging her down onto the floor as she screamed. "Ellie! It's me! It's me, Hank!"

"No!"

"Quit fightin' me! It's me! Yer safe!" She stopped struggling suddenly and took in large gulps of air, her body heaving against his as her gripped her tightly, her back pressed against his stomach, the heat from her exertions flooding him. "It's me!"

"H…Hank?"

"Yeah."

"I…I don't…"

"Thought some unsavoury fella had climbed in yer window to have his way with ya. Damn near broke my shoulder tryin' to git in here." Her body started to slow. "Guess ya were havin' some kind of nightmare." She half-turned in his arms to look at him, then quickly scrambled to her feet, pulling away from him, and ran back over to the bed. "Don't mention it," he muttered as she grabbed the blanket and pulled it around herself. "Don't gotta worry about that neither. Ya ain't the first woman I've seen in her nightgown and ya ain't gonna be the last."

"I'm sorry…I…I'm sorry…"

"Yeah, well…" he pulled himself to his feet. "Lock's busted so yer gonna have to stick a chair against it fer the rest of the night. I'll fix it up in the mornin'." Glancing into the hallway, he suddenly noticed that some of the other girls had gathered to watch the spectacle unfold. "Git yerselves back to bed!" He instructed them, and they scurried away obediently before he turned back to her. "Ya gonna be alright?" She nodded mutely, still clutching the blanket as he turned for the door. "Alright then."

"Hank, I…" He stopped and turned back to face her. "I was dreaming that he was here, that he had hold of me and…"

"The fella from last night?" She nodded, watching as he moved around the room. "Well, he ain't here. Not in the wardrobe….not under the bed…ain't nobody here."

"Thank you."

Sighing, he stepped out of the room and pulled the door closed as best he could behind him. "Should have had that whisky."