This was supposed to be the last chapter, but it just went on and on and became long and unwieldy and I still haven't finished it. So, I made this section Chapter 14 and will post an epilogue/Chapter 15 next to end it. And I rewrote this section 3 times and yet, there's probably still a typo or two. I'll edit this section later-tomorrow, probably. And thanks to anyone who may be reading and especially to my reviewers; you are the only reason I'm finishing it.

Face-Off

Deciding he should head home and talk to Alan before the man left for Sacramento in the morning, Adam headed out of town. Suddenly, he stopped his horse, turned its head and went back to the hotel. He tied his horse to the rail and went to look in the alley. It just held trash and ash cans, a few discarded newspapers, stubbed cigarettes and not much else. He walked back to the hotel's double doors.

Upon seeing him, the desk clerk paused his game of solitaire. "Something wrong, Adam?"

"Can you check Culhane's room? See if he took his luggage?" Adam asked.

"I told you, Adam, he came down with nothing. Beides, I'm supposed to respect their privacy?"

Adam moved closer as if he was confiding. "I suspect he's gone and hasn't paid his bill. Besides, the maid goes in, right? Why can't you? Change a towel or something if you need an excuse."

The clerk considered, rubbing his chin. "Well, yes, that's true, the maid does go in." He turned and pulled the room key out of its box. "Let's check it out." The two men stood outside Culhane's door, and the clerk turned the key and slowly opened the door. In the dim light from the window that looked down onto the alley, Adam found the lamp and lit it, raising the wick. The bed was still made and the room devoid of an occupant or anything indicating there had been one.

The clerk opened the closet and saw it was empty including the hangers. "Goddamn sonovabitch! How the hell did he manage to get by me?"

"Well, unless you were napping or left to take a long shit, I think he tossed his bags out the window when he was here with Miss Wood and picked them up later," Adam replied. "He's gone, but just where, I wonder. How much does he owe you?"

"Well, including tonight, it's $24.00. Damn it all! I'm going to havta answer for this. Damn it all!" The clerk didn't know what to do except curse under his breath, berating both himself for his laxity, and Thorne Culhane for his deviousness. Adam suggested the clerk report it to Sheriff Coffee. Now, Adam thought, Coffee had another reason to throw Culhane in jail while Adam contacted the government. But there was one possible problem; if Thorne had never used 'Culhane' to enlist for a bounty, there may be no proof of his scheme to deceive the government.

On his way out of town, Adam decided to check on the Graham's place; he had been disturbed by his and Morgan's interaction all evening. The windows in the front were lit—he expected them to be asleep, the house dark. Adam rode into the yard, hitched his horse and went to the front door, hesitating, but then knocking. He caught motion to his right and looking, saw the curtain drop and then the door quickly opened.

"Oh, Adam, thank God you're here! Come in, please." Esther practically pulled him in. He could hear Morgan loudly complaining and then the sound of his crutch as he walked across the floor.

"What's going on, Esther?" Adam held her by one arm; he could tell she was worried, afraid.

"He's been drinking ever since we came home—he had a good head start at your house—and is saying he's going after Bowman. Who is Bowman, Adam? Morgan keeps saying he's going to kill him. He's loading his gun now." They heard the sound of a body hitting the floor and a loud grunt from Morgan. They headed to the bedroom to see Morgan sprawled on the floor, shoving his crutch out of the way as he tried to reach his gun. Adam pulled Morgan up off the floor and sat him on the bed. The man fell back and lay there, shaking his head.

"Adam, I'm worthless. I can't even get revenge for all those dead soldiers he robbed. You and I both know he did it that night and then over and over again—looted the battlefields, maybe even finished them off before he robbed them. He shouldn't live, Adam, he shouldn't." Morgan began to sob and seeing her husband in such a state, Esther silently cried as well.

"Morgan, Listen to me. I'll get him for all of them. I'll see justice is done, I promise. Trust me. And when I find him, no matter how long it takes, I'll bring him to you, alive or dead. But Esther needs you home to take care of her, to protect her. I'm sure Bowman recognized you and he may come looking for you." While Morgan covered his face with his hands, Adam motioned for Esther to bring him the gun. She did and Adam checked the chambers; they were empty. Morgan hadn't managed to load it although bullets lay scattered on the floor. Adam slid it in his waistband.

Morgan swallowed and seemed to gather himself. "All right. All right. I'm going to hold you to that, Adam." Esther pulled off Morgan's boot and Morgan made no protest. Adam motioned for Esther to follow him.

Once they were in the parlor, Adam pulled out the gun. "You know how to load one of these?"

"Well, yes. You think I need it?"

"I wasn't lying—Culhane recognized him. Keep this loaded, the door bolted and the curtains pulled tight."

"Wait. I thought it was Bowman who was the man…"

"They're one and the same. And put his crutch where he can't easily get it."

"Yes. Yes, I will. Thank you, Adam. I don't know what I'd do without you." She tip-toed to kiss his cheek. "Bay Rum." She smiled sadly. "You've always smelled so nice, always. I'm reminded of you whenever I smell Bay Rum anywhere. Funny how memories ambush us when we least expect them."

"Yeah, they do push their way in and so many things still haunt me as they do Morgan. Take care of him, Esther. For me, if nothing else. I don't want to lose him." Adam turned and left, hoping Esther would take his advice seriously. But knowing Esther, he was sure she would

~ 0 ~

Alan had helped Sibella unhook the back of her dress and then went to put on less formal clothes. He had no casual wear but he didn't want to soil his best jacket and trousers-they were expensive. As for Sibella, a few months earlier she had ordered a pair of women's trousers all the way from Paris. They didn't quite fit properly and she realized that her pantalettes had to be tossed aside if she wore them, but she wanted to wear them when she marched for women's rights in Boston or New York or anywhere else the cause sent her. But it wasn't her marriage that interfered with her plans but that she fell in love. Although Sibella had considered wearing them in Virginia City once she married, she didn't when she realized how much trouble and scandal she would bring down on Adam's head; he would be the butt of jokes about just who wore the pants in his family and many other types of ridicule. But tonight, she pulled them out along with a boy's Irish fishing pullover, tying back her hair. She wouldn't let anything voluminous impede her and her ability to use the gun should she need to do so.

"Come along, Alan," Sibella called as she went down the stairs. "We'll wake up the whole house as it is." Suddenly she remembered. "Oh, the gun!" But as she turned to go back upstairs, she thought she heard a horse and rider outside. "Alan, I think Adam's home!"

Alan stuck his head out the bedroom door while pulling on his trousers. "Wait, Sibella! Wait! It may not be Adam."

"Now who else could it be?" Sibella called back as she went downstairs quickly, smiling. Adam was home. She wondered if he would find her trousers sexually attractive and the fact she was wearing no underclothes.

Alan's hands quickly worked the buttons of the fly and then he tucked in his shirt as he headed down the stairs. But Sibella had already reached the door and thrown it open.

"Adam, I…" Sibella stopped, realizing what a foolish mistake she had made. "Oh, Thorne, I wasn't expecting you. It's so late." She held the door trying to decide whether to slam it or to behave as if she had no fear. Quickly she went over the possible consequences, something Adam had been trying to impress on her since the day they married—actually, even before. If she tried to slam the door, Thorne would only push it back open and would know she had reason to be afraid. Best to behave as if she was ignorant of all of Thorne's criminal actions.

"Adam must not be home, And, Sibella, what's with this? You, dressing like a little boy for him?" Thorne asked as he looked Sibella up and down, highly amused. Then he looked past her as Alan stepped into the foyer.

"No, but he will be home soon. We're going on a midnight ride and so I…" Sibella glanced to see that Alan stood staring at Thorne, his face pale. "But what in the world are you doing here, Thorne? It's rather late for decent company." Sibella tried to keep her smile but she felt her lips quiver.

"Sibella, are you and Adam taking little Alan along? He is such good company but watch it, he'll abandon you, just up and leave without so much as a 'kiss my ass'."

"Well, actually," Alan said, approaching to stand behind Sibella. "Sibella was first going to take me for a short ride about the property alone. There's a little lake she told me about that I'd like to see. Besides, I drank far too much and need to clear my head. Now, if you wouldn't mind," Alan continued, his voice shaking slightly, "would you step aside and let us go?"

"Now, Alan," Thorne said, stepping into the house. Alan stepped back, breathing heavily, sweat beading on his forehead as Thorne came closer.

"Alan, when I went to the hotel, I saw you had checked out, at least it seemed that way. I took a chance you were here. You said you wanted to go to Baltimore with me, remember? I had told you about all the ways a man—or a woman-can enjoy the various pleasures Baltimore has to offer. Now get your bags and we'll head off tonight."

"Well," Alan offered, slightly stammering, "I decided, well, my mother needs me, you know, and so I wired her I'd be home in two days. She's expecting me." Alan awkwardly swallowed his building fear.

"You can always wire her about going with me. As long as she knows you're alive and well, all will be fine."

"You need to leave, Thorne," Sibella said, trying her best to sound stern; she couldn't let Thorne force Alan to go with him. Thorne turned to look at her.

"Stay out of this, Sibella. This is between Alan and me."

"I'll go with him, Sibella…I promised him." Alan's voice wavered. He knew Thorne would more than likely kill him, would shoot him out in the countryside somewhere and leave his body for the wolves or bears to devour. The thought of his corpse being dismembered by the fangs of voracious beasts that then ate him and later shit him out in their scat almost made him scream in panic, but he was determined to face his death bravely; he had lived as a coward for so long with his only worry being his sexual proclivities being exploited and here it was happening. Although Alan was shaking and close to tears, he had hurt Sibella enough and was determined to spare her anymore pain. "I'll go with him to New…to Baltimore."

"No, Alan, no!" Sibella grabbed his arm and then swung about to face Thorne.

"Alan is staying here." She slipped her arm through Alan's and locked her hands together. "You go ahead on your way."

Thorne's shoulders sagged. "Damn you, Alan. You told her, didn't you?" Alan was about to deny any wrongdoing but what was the use? Besides, he was weary of lying but before he could say anything, Sibella answered for him.

"Yes, he told me about the sapphires and diamonds you had replaced and about you taking them to New Orleans to sell to some ne'er-do-well of your acquaintance. So do it. We'll say we don't know where you're going. Just leave. Now."

"Sibella," Thorne said, "you little fool. You played this hand all wrong. It was a very bad bluff. I imagine Adam is out looking for me now, and not just for switching the jewels but because he recognizes me from the war. I suspected Graham was there to confirm Adam's suspicions. Arrogant, haughty Captain Cartwright and his lapdog, Lieutenant Graham. So loyal to the cause, so fucking honorable. And now, despite how I feel for you, Sibella, despite that you touch my heart still, I have to kill you both. Survival is paramount—your husband taught me that but I believe he was talking about the Union. Doesn't matter. Let's go." Thorne pulled out a pistol he had tucked in his waistband and motioned for them to step ahead of him. "Go on, both of you. And if you're charitable, you won't make noise and wake the ranch hand. I don't need three lives on my conscience." Once outside, Thorne grabbed his horse's reins and told Alan and Sibella to walk around to the back and head away from the house.

For the first time in her existence, Sibella feared for her life. She tried to summon sympathetic feelings about Alan, how he was about to be killed as well, but couldn't. Her mind raced—if she was going to die, she wanted to die in a state of grace, not selfishness, but the thought of leaving the carnal world, to never again feel Adam's mouth on hers or his arms about her, to join bodies in the ineffable pleasures of sex, well it couldn't be. She had only known him for a few months, only bloomed into full womanhood, and now, it would be all over in a second. Sibella looked up at the stars as Thorne herded them to the back of the house and she fought the urge to drop to her knees and beg for her life, to promise Thorne anything if only he would spare her life. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stumbled about, Alan grabbing her arm to steady her, and then putting his arm about her shoulders. His kindness made her cry more; Alan was trying to comfort her and he was in the same desperate situation as she.

"Keep walking," Thorne said as they walked further away from the house. After about a quarter of a mile, he told them to stop and dropped his horse's reins. The horse nickered and snuffled as if calling to another and went off a few yards. Despite her fear, Sibella became alert. Was that a noise of fallen leaves rustling from the wind or by boots? And as a breeze lifted the loose tendrils about her cheeks, Sibella thought she caught the scent of Bay Rum. Was that what happened when death was so close, that a person smelled scents that were dear to them in life?

"All right, you can stop now." Thorne's voice quavered. "I'd appreciate it if neither of you would look at me. You may not believe this, but during battle, I always slipped to the back of the ranks and hid. I've never killed anyone before, never."

The sound of a gun being cocked was followed by a deep voice. "I have, so I suggest you drop your gun." Thorne hesitated, but he knew Adam Cartwright had a gun undoubtedly pointed at the back of his head. The pistol dropped from his fingers and hit the ground with a thud.

Sibella's heart rose and as she began to turn, she looked at Alan. He started to speak, but his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fainted dead-away. "Alan!" Sibella cried, dropping to her knees beside him. She patted his cheeks and called his name, then looked up as Adam walked up behind Thorne and spun him around. Alan began to come to and tried to sit up.

"Culhane, you're a goddamn liar, a thief, a deserter, a fuckin' lurker and almost a murderer and always a coward." Then, without any warning, Adam landed a heavy punch on Thorne's jaw and he went spinning to land in the dirt. Thorne saw his gun and started to reach for it but Adam's voice stopped him.

"Go ahead, Thorne, get it. I don't want to kill an unarmed man. That would be an act of cowardice akin to shooting a woman in the back. Get the gun!" Rage and hate overtook Adam and his breathing became ragged. He wanted to kill Thorne, wanted to see his eyes look like those of a landed fish, that open yet unfocused gaze. "Go ahead, reach for it!" he ordered.

"No, no…you'll kill me."

"Damn right I will, just like you were going to kill them. But if you're not going to get your gun, get up. Get up and face me!"

Thorne started to scoot away, holding up one hand. "No, you'll only hurt me more. Just take me in to the law. I'll confess to anything, everything, just don't hit me again."

Adam tossed his gun aside and reached down to grab Thorne by the shirt front, jerking him to a semi-sitting position and smashed his face with his closed fist, not even feeling the skin split over his middle knuckle. Blood spurted from Thorne's nose and Adam smashed his face again and again. It was only Sibella's voice, begging him to stop that caused Adam to drop Thorne to the ground where he burbled something unintelligible, his nose broken, his jawbone misaligned, and his left eye swollen shut. Adam's chest heaved from exertion and from all the hate he had harbored, not just against Thorne, but against all the people who had injured him or those he loved over the years. And there had been so many. Thorne had almost taken Sibella away from him and that alone had caused the fire behind his eyes to burn hotter. Adam dropped to his knees, catching his breath. Sibella's soft hand on his cheek caused him to turn and it was as if he didn't see her or recognize her. And then it was as if he suddenly woke.

"Sweetheart…" Adam reached out and touched her hair.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and Sibella leaned her forehead against Adam's arm; it was like resting her head against a stone, sound and solid. "Sibella, don't…" But Adam never finished Because she threw her arms about his neck, saying something about the stars and life that he didn't quite understand. But it didn't matter. Adam only held her tighter while his humanity returned.