A continuation of James and Emmaline.

Emmaline Howard was a fascinating woman. James had thought she was intriguing back when he knew her in Rock Creek, but he was coming to realize that he hadn’t known her at all then. She was still kind and certainly was not a copy of her parents, but he was discovering that the Emmaline she’d shown had barely scratched the surface of who she really was.

Emmaline was not a pampered little girl. She didn’t need, or really want, a man to come in and take care of her. She’d made plans to leave town because she couldn’t stand to stay with her parents any longer and end up married off to one of the worthless beaus they tried to foist on her. If she ever married and had children, it was going to be on her own terms. Not because her parents expected it of her. It wouldn’t be a marriage to increase her standing and prominence in society.

And if she never married, then she would ensure she could provide for herself. She was quickly becoming endeared to the bakery owner Mrs. Robbins and the older woman was talking about making Emmaline a formal partner, not just an employee. The shop was guaranteed to be hers and if she kept making delicious treats like she did now, there was no doubt she’d be able to survive just fine. She wouldn’t need any help from anybody. Except for maybe hiring a couple of employees to keep up with demands.

James would have never believed she had such a talent with desserts, but the extra notch he’d had to let out on his belt in the week he’d been in town proved Emmaline was. The smells were tempting, the tastes were a combination of Heaven and sin, and Mrs. Robbins would laugh every morning when he came into the shop and wanted to sample something new. And then she would be sympathetic and try to get Emmaline to talk to him.

The woman was proving to be infuriating in her single-minded determination to avoid him. She asked him why he was there, why he had tracked her down, and then didn’t seem to like any answer he gave her. She simply couldn’t understand that he’d wanted to know for certain that she was alright and wasn’t encountering any trouble. She also couldn’t believe that there was any other reason he’d want to stick around now that he’d gotten the answers. Did she really have no idea why he was there?

With a sigh he was forced to admit she probably didn’t. He had only just figured it out, or finally allowed himself to realize why he’d come all this way to see her. How was she supposed to know? She certainly wasn’t a mind reader, and he wasn’t being that forthcoming.

James just wasn’t sure how to broach the topic with her. Emmaline was always polite to him, always gave him the same pleasant smile she gave to every other customer, and when he saw her in town she always took a few minutes to speak to him. But he could see that she tried to avoid him. He could see that she was uncomfortable every time Mrs. Robbins would call out to the back and tell her that her young man was there to see her. Where was Teaspoon with his sage advice when he needed him? Or even Mr. Lovelace, who had smiled when giving James the information on where Emmaline was? He wished there was someone who could advise him, and not Mrs. Robbins.

James let out a sigh and leaned back, stretching his legs out before him and letting his arms splay across the top of the bench he was sitting on outside the hotel. The sun was just dipping below the horizon and shops were closing up for the night. James had no interest in sitting in his hotel room for hours until falling asleep and he had no interest in sitting in the saloon attached to the hotel. He didn’t want to play cards, he didn’t want some company for the evening. He just wanted to figure out what he was going to do about Emmaline.

“That was an awfully big sigh there, Deputy,” a soft voice said to his right. “Is everything alright?”

He stood up quickly; turning to make sure his ears weren’t playing tricks on him. Emmaline was standing just at the top of the steps at the corner of the boardwalk, her reticule hanging off her wrist.

“Everything’s find, Miss Howard,” he quickly assured her, even though it really wasn’t.

She tipped her head to the side and said, “If everything’s fine, then why do you look so lost?”

Her voice drifted to him across the night, low and mellow, so unlike the professional demeanor she adopted with all the customers at the shop. It raised the hair on the back of his neck, while warming his insides.

“I was just thinking,” he finally answered.

“Thinking,” she repeated as she stepped towards him, but kept on the edge of the walkway. She stopped not too far away from him and leaned her shoulder against a support beam. “Thinking about why you’re still here? Because I’ll have to admit; I’ve thought about that an awful lot myself. I don’t understand why you showed up, and why you’ve stayed here, Deputy.”

“James,” he told her. “I’m not on duty here.”

She regarded him a moment and then nodded. “James, why are you here?”

“I came to see you.”

Her head tilted to the side once more and she regarded him for a long moment. “You’ve said that, but I still don’t understand why. Did Mr. Lovelace put you up to this?”

“No,” he immediately answered. “He was very reluctant to give me any information. In fact, when he did, I couldn’t understand why. But I certainly wasn’t going to reject it.”

Her mouth twisted as she pondered his words and then she stunned him with her next question. “Did my parents send you here?”

“What?” he asked, the corners of his mouth bowing down. “No. Your parents don’t like me. Why would they send me to find you?”

“Because my parents, or at least my mother, long suspected my crush on you. And they’re just the kind of people who would use anyone if they thought it would get them what they wanted. So I wouldn’t put it past them to try to warm up to you, pretend like they accepted you because they thought you’d be the only way to find me.”

Bitterness laced her words and James wasn’t surprised by her suspicion of her parents, but he was reeling from her other revelation. My crush on you. The four words stunned him, because he’d never had any idea. He knew she didn’t hold him in the same disregard her parents did, but he’d never suspected she had feelings for him. Did Mr. Lovelace know? Is that why the older man had been willing to give her location to James?

“Miss Howard,” he began.

“Emmaline,” she interrupted him. “My parents aren’t here; there’s nobody around to say you aren’t being respectful to me.”

He started again, “Emmaline. Your parents didn’t send me. I wouldn’t trust your parents if they suddenly started acting polite to me, and I certainly wouldn’t betray you by coming to find you if I was only planning on revealing your location to them. You left your parents’ home for a reason. I respect your decision and would certainly never treat you like you couldn’t make your own choices.”

“You’re a surprising man, James,” she mused quietly. “I never know what to make of you.”

“And you’re a surprising woman, Emmaline. I’m realizing I never knew you at all; you’re stronger than I think anyone ever suspected.” He paused for a moment and then said, “And that’s why I’m stickin’ around. I’d like to get to know you. The real you.”

“You make me sound like an enigma, James,” she shook her head. “Like you’re planning to stick around for days. I’m not really that complicated. So in a day or two, you should be able to head back to Rock Creek, your job and your life.”

He took a step towards her, not enough to crowd, but enough to gain her attention. “I’ve got plenty of time, Emmaline. Teaspoon has sent me on assignment for a while. ‘Sides, I think there’s more to you than you realize, or want to admit. And I’m in no rush to leave.”

If that didn’t help spell out his intentions, then he would just have to speak more plainly. But as he watched her hand flutter up to her throat and then Emmaline licked her lips looking slightly nervous, James thought he got through just fine. It would be up to her now, to see what became of all this.

To Be Continued...

"Hold it right there, buster!"

Teaspoon paused, the shot glass just short of his lips, the temping aroma of the whiskey mere inches away. Something about Polly's tone of voice told him this was something serious, but still -- buster? "Anythin' wrong?" he asked, as sweetly as he could.

Polly slapped the rag down on the bar and walked toward him. "Yes, there most certainly is!"

Teaspoon jumped as she snatched the shot glass from his hand. "Uh, Polly?"

"Do you know how much they've raised the price of whiskey?" she fumed. "I can't afford to give away any more free samples."

"I, uh, I didn't know that," he said. He licked his lips, staring longingly at the glass she now held. "But maybe . . ."

"No maybe," she snapped. "I don't know if I can even afford to keep this place open the way things are going."

"Burt ain't said nothin' . . ."

"Burt waters his whiskey down so far I'm surprised anyone tastes anything. Is that what you want me to do?"

"Well, no . . ."

"They say it's because of the war. Some of the suppliers are only sending whiskey to the Confederacy now, and others are sending most of their goods to the Union army."

"Gotta keep the soldiers happy," Teaspoon muttered, still eying the glass.

"Well, that means my costs have nearly tripled!" Polly responded. She slammed the glass down onto the bar, sloshing some of the contents onto the wood.

"Well, now, Polly," Teaspoon began, trying to sound very helpful. "Must be somewhere else we can get you some good whiskey." He slid his hand slowly along the bar toward the spilled liquid.

"I've tried, believe me." Polly sighed and turned to pick up some glasses. "Paulsen is high, but it's still the best price around."

"Hmmmmm." Teaspoon dipped his finger in the spilled whiskey and sucked the liquid off. He just managed to get his finger down when she turned back toward him.

"Hmmmmm? Is that all you can say? If I have to close this place, I may just have to go back to Texas. Is that what you want?"

"Nope." He certainly didn't want her to leave. "There must be somethin' . . ."

"Something else I can do? Like what? Marry you and cook your breakfast, darn your socks."

Marry? "Well, uh . . ." He cleared his throat, buying time. "Wouldn't want the town to lose this fine establishment," he finally said. "You let me think on this some. Might be I can think of something."

"Well, I hope it's fast," Polly replied with a sigh. "Oh, Teaspoon, I don't wanna leave Rock Creek," she said, somewhat more calmly. "But I gotta be able to make a livin' and these new prices are makin' that awful tough."

"I'm gonna think on it real hard," Teaspoon promised. Then he eyed the shot glass. "The thinkin' might go better with . . ."

"Oh, here," she said, pushing the glass toward him. "It's half spilled anyway."

Teaspoon watched her disappear into the back room as he lifted the glass. It was true, half of the amber liquid was gone - but the half that was left sure tasted good.

He smacked his lips, set the empty glass back on the bar, and headed for the door. There was some important thinking to do, and he'd do it best back in his office - feet on the desk, hat pulled down low.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Ow!" Cody put a hand to his forehead, gently covering the spot where he just hit his head as he woke and sat up suddenly. "What is that?"

Around the bunkhouse the other riders were stirring as well.

"Coming from the barn," Buck said, yawning.

"Ain't even light yet," Jimmy grumbled, looking out the window.

"I need my sleep," Cody groused. "I gotta leave with the Army tomorrow."

Buck just rolled his eyes and finished pulling on his second boot. Then he crossed to the door and opened it.

Jimmy quickly caught up as they crossed the yard. There was more banging coming from inside the barn.

"What do you figure?" Jimmy asked.

Buck shook his head. "No idea."

"So what is it?" Cody asked as he reached them.

Buck pointed toward the corral. "Those horses weren't out last night."

"No, we had 'em all in," Jimmy agreed.

"The noise is comin' from the back," Cody said, striding for the door. He pulled it open and headed inside, with Buck and Jimmy close on his heels.

In the semi-darkness, they almost ran into Cody when he stopped short.

"What?"

The three gathered around, staring. The inside of the barn had definitely changed. The back section was closed off with a combination of a rough framework of wood and various pieces of canvas and even a blanket. Across what appeared to be an opening between two pieces of canvas there was a rough hand-lettered sign.

KEEP OUT!

There was some more banging, and then suddenly a flurry of curses. If nothing else, the language identified the architect of the changes.

"Uh, Teaspoon, you all right?" Jimmy called.

"'Course I'm all right," came the muffled reply.

"What're ya doing?" Cody asked. He took a few steps forward, and then stopped suddenly as Teaspoon's head poked out.

"Does it look like I want you to know?"

Cody took a step back and shook his head. "Uh, no."

"Exactly," Teaspoon replied. "Now, can you boys all read?" he asked, pointing at the sign.

"We can read," Buck answered. And they obviously weren't going to get any answers right now.

"Real glad to hear that," Teaspoon said. "Now, I got some real important work to do. And since you boys ain't got mail runs to do no more, I'm expectin' you can help watchin' things over to the jail."

"But Teaspoon, it ain't even dawn . . ."

Cody's complaint trailed off under the glare the older man trained on him. Deciding to try and escape with no more damage, Cody backed slowly toward the door. "Right, you boys take the mornin' shift. I'll take over later."

"That figures," Jimmy said. He took one more look at the mysterious barrier and then turned away. "You figure he's really lost his mind this time?"

Buck just raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Knowing Teaspoon, I'm sure he's got a plan."

Jimmy's eyes went wide. "You don't figure it's another one o' his ideas like that base-ball - or that velocipede?"

"Couldn't say," Buck replied. "But I figure we'll be safer over at the jail."

Jimmy grinned. "Yeah, Cody'll be the only one here!"

Buck returned the grin, and then the two of them hurried for the door - their retreat accompanied by more strange sounds from behind the barrier.

Rachel walked out of the house, a basket of dirty laundry under her arm. It was Saturday so she had no school classes - but lots of chores to catch up on.

She would have thought that with Cody off on his Army adventure, and Kid and Lou settled on their small farm just outside of town, that her workload at the station would have decreased. After all, that only left Buck and Jimmy in the bunkhouse.

Of course, then there was Teaspoon - whose recent odd behavior had a lot of people in town talking.

She rounded the corner, heading for the pump and laundry basin. It would soon be time to move things inside for the winter, but so far the weather had been mild for early November, and she liked the extra space that working outside provided.

Rachel reached the pump, started to put the basket down - and then stopped short.

The laundry basin was nowhere in sight.

She spun around slowly, wondering if it had just been moved for some reason. But it was nowhere to be seen.

There were, however, some suspicious skid marks heading in the direction of the barn. She didn't even figure she needed Buck's help to interpret the tracks.

"Teaspoon," she muttered, glancing in the direction of the barn. There was strange banging and clattering coming from the building, and for a moment she considered marching over there and demanding her laundry basin back.

But memories of the day before when she had tried to peek into his secret enclave flooded back, and she decided against that course of action.

"Well, fine!" Rachel said, addressing no one but herself. "I'll just take this to the laundry in town, and tell Cassie to bill Teaspoon!"

Satisfied that it was a good plan, Rachel took her basket and headed for the laundry in town. Still, as she walked, one thought kept running through her mind.

What in the world did Teaspoon need her laundry tub for?

"You! Cross!"

Buck looked around at hearing his name, and quickly saw Tompkins standing outside of the store, waving urgently.

The shopkeeper was about the last person Buck would have chosen to talk to, but since he and Jimmy were still covering most of Teaspoon's marshalling duties, there probably wasn't much choice. This could be something law-related.

He crossed the street slowly, grateful for a passing wagon that gave him time to steel himself. He felt perfectly composed when he reached the store - and hopefully that would last. "Mr. Tompkins?"

Tompkins glared and pointed down at four large burlap bags by his feet. "You gotta get this outta here," he said, stopping there as if his reasons should be clear as day.

Buck looked down at the bags. "What's it for?" he asked carefully.

"A hundred pounds of sugar!" Tompkins shouted. "More of Teaspoon's supplies. The other day it was a hundred pounds of seed corn, now this. Plus he's got a barrel of molasses out back and some yeast."

"I'll get this over to the station," Buck promised. He could feel a twinge in his back, left over from carrying the bags of corn. He crouched down to pick up one of the bags, levering it onto his shoulder. "I'll be back for the rest with the buckboard," he promised. Carrying a barrel of molasses wasn't something he felt like attempting.

"Just see you hurry," Tompkins demanded. "I got other customers you know. Ain't like this is Teaspoon's own private supply line. You might tell him that!"

Buck just nodded and adjusted the balance of the bag on his shoulder. He'd overheard Teaspoon making the arrangements to pay for his order, so Tompkins was making his money on the deal. But he figured the shopkeeper, like so many others in town, was just annoyed that Teaspoon wouldn't share what he was doing.

"What the hell is he doing over there?" Tompkins demanded, eerily echoing Buck's thoughts.

Buck shook his head. "I have no idea," he answered honestly.

"Well, you just see that you get these supplies out of my way," the shopkeeper huffed, heading back into the store.

Buck sighed and turned toward the station with the first bag. A lot of people had been asking the same question about Teaspoon's activities - and he'd had no better answer for any of them.

He had no better answer for himself.

There had been a lot of strange activity recently - even strange by Teaspoon Hunter standards. There was the closed off area in the barn, for one. As far as he knew, no one else had been allowed back there. Cody had tried before he left, but Teaspoon's alarm system - consisting of a series of pots and cans that fell over noisily - had ended that attempt.

All the banging and clanging just added to the mystery. And then there was the seed corn. The station had a little bit of land around it, but nowhere near enough to need a hundred pounds of it.

Buck and Jimmy were supposed to be handling the horses, and dealing with the stagecoaches that stopped in Rock Creek to change teams. That would normally have entailed mucking the stalls - but Teaspoon had all but banished them from any part of the barn. The older man was gathering the manure himself, but instead of hauling it away from the station, Buck had noticed the stockpile growing right outside the barn.

He'd even had a wagonload of the . . . stuff brought in from a dairy farmer whose farm was just south of town. Teaspoon had offloaded the manure himself, adding to his piles, but Buck had gotten the rather stinky job of returning the wagon.

He hadn't been able to answer the farmer's many questions either.

Oh, and then there was the mysterious meeting Teaspoon had held with Janos Terkovsky over at the blacksmith shop one day. The two men had huddled over some papers for a long time before Teaspoon hustled back to the barn. Having discovered the meeting during their rounds, Buck and Jimmy had watched from a hidden vantage point until the coast was clear - and then hurried to talk to Janos. But the blacksmith was just as much in the dark as any of them. He had drawings of bits and pieces that Teaspoon had requested him to fashion out of metal - but no idea what they were for.

Buck and Jimmy had studied the drawings for a long time while Janos worked, but they still had no idea what was going on.

They'd even tried going out to see Lou and Kid, describing what they could of Teaspoon's activities. The newlyweds, however, had no better ideas of what he might be doing. And even when Lou stopped by to try and tempt the older man with oatmeal cookies, Teaspoon had barely poked his head out before saying he had to get back to work.

They heard him mumbling something about necessity being the mother of invention - but still had no idea what he was inventing.

Buck turned the corner by the barn - and almost ran smack into Rachel.

"Sorry," he muttered, reaching out his free hand to steady her. "I didn't see you."

She just smiled. "I didn't see you either. A few things on my mind," she added wryly.

A series of hammering and banging sounds drew both of to look toward the barn.

"Things like that?" Buck guessed.

"Exactly like that," she agreed, looking now at the bag on his shoulder. "More of Teaspoon's supplies?"

Buck nodded. "And there's more. I was going to get the buckboard." he gave her a puzzled look as he noticed the basket. "Where are you going with the laundry?"

Rachel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It seems my laundry tub has disappeared."

Buck opened his mouth to say something, but then decided against it. Right now it didn't take much imagination to figure out where the tub most likely was.

Unfortunately, his imagination hadn't filled in the answer of what it was being used for.

"I'm taking this to the laundry," Rachel continued. "And Teaspoon can pay for it!"

Buck nodded and shifted the bag on his shoulder. "Let me put this over by the barn and I can carry that for you."

"No, I can do it," Rachel replied. She grimaced as a sudden flurry of banging came from the barn. "And it'll do me good to get away for a bit."

There really wasn't a good argument against that, Buck decided. "Jimmy and I were thinking about having dinner in town tonight," he said. "If you'd like to . . ."

"I'd love to."

"Pete comes on about six o'clock to take over at the jail."

"I'll meet you there," Rachel said. "I might even be a little early."

Buck just nodded in understanding, and then they both looked over toward the barn.

What was he doing?

"What do you mean Hunter isn't here?"

"He had to go out of town for a couple of days," Buck explained, as patiently as he could. Tompkins was really getting on his nerves though - as usual.

"Doin' what?"

"Can't really say," Jimmy replied. Truth was, he and Buck really couldn't say, because they didn't know. But he wasn't going to admit that.

"Well who's gonna find out who broke my window?" the shopkeeper demanded. "Someone's gotta pay for it."

"Buck an' me are gonna get right on that," Jimmy assured him.

Tompkins looked anything but pleased with that answer. He glared at the two younger men for a long moment, then turned on his heel and stomped toward the door. "See that you do," he called over his shoulder as he left the jail.

The shopkeeper could be heard muttering loudly about how the town wasn't paying its Marshal to run off as he headed for the general store.

"So whatta ya think Teaspoon's really doing in Hollenberg?" Jimmy asked. That was the entire contents of the note they'd found on the desk that morning.

Buck just shrugged. "No idea." The puzzle was just getting deeper as far as he was concerned.

"What's Hollenberg got that Rock Creek don't?" Jimmy mused, not really asking a question.

"I don't know," Buck said, giving him an answer anyway. "But I guess we better get over to the store and check things out."

Jimmy started to shrug his jacket on. "Yeah, won't be no problem there. Not like Tompkins has any enemies, right?"

Buck's raised eyebrow was all the answer Jimmy needed on that one.

"Right," he said. "No problem."

Still, even with the number of potential suspects, solving the mystery of the broken window promised to be much easier than solving the mystery Teaspoon was creating these days.

It was dark when Teaspoon pulled the wagon into the yard. He stopped the horses near the barn and climbed down slowly, holding his back. It had been a long trip over the rough road, sitting on that hard wooden seat.

But he was back now, with the last bit of what he needed for his plan. And with any luck he'd soon have something to help the pain.

He went into the barn, lit a lamp, and then checked his security measures at the enclave in back. He'd left a few hidden bits here and there - things that would fall away if anyone had tried to go in. But everything seemed to be in place, which was good.

They'd all know soon enough.

Teaspoon returned to the wagon and carried in the sacks of ground corn. It had sprouted under the manure, just as he'd recalled it would. And the mill at Hollenberg had made quick work of reducing it to finely cracked meal.

With the last bag settled on the floor, he surveyed his equipment. The lantern light gave an eerie glow to a large container he'd had Janos make. It was almost conical in shape, with something that looked like a small chimney on the top. A pipe ran out of one side, and inside he knew were coils of piping, again made to his specifications.

He had to grin, remembering the blacksmith's confused look at the drawings of what he was being asked to make. But the man had done an excellent job of making exactly what was requested.

Teaspoon just hoped he remembered well enough so that he'd asked for the right thing.

The whole container was set up on some rocks, giving room underneath for a fire. And Rachel's laundry tub was placed carefully under the pipe to catch what would be coming out.

Well, what he hoped would be coming out.

It had been a long time since he'd tried this, and even then one of the other men in the mining camp had actually acquired and set up the equipment. But if -- when -- this worked, all of the effort would be worth it.

He already had wood stacked between the rocks, and now he lit the fire so it could start building up the heat. Then he started adding his ingredients to the strangely shaped container. The corn went in, and lots of water, sugar, yeast, molasses . . .

When everything was brewing, he went and took care of the horses. And then he returned to his work. There was a special ritual to be followed, stirring, waiting, reheating. And he needed to keep the fire up.

Yes, it would be a long night . . .

"Well, come on, come on."

Lou hung back as Teaspoon waved them in. Leaning toward Buck, she asked, "You figured out what this is all about yet?"

Buck shook his head. "All he said was he had something exciting to show all of us."

Lou looked around as people started to enter the barn. Buck and Jimmy were there, of course. But Teaspoon had also invited Polly and Janos, and had sent word to her and Kid that they needed to come to the old station for 'something exciting.'

Unfortunately, with Teaspoon, 'something exciting' could be cause for worry.

The others were already in the barn when Lou and Buck trailed in. They found hay bales and boxes set up in a rough circle, obviously to be used as chairs. There were two still empty and Teaspoon waved them forward. Lou took a seat on a box next to Kid, and Buck slipped in between her and Jimmy, settling on a bale.

"Whatta ya figure that smell is?" Jimmy whispered.

The air was indeed filled with a smell that was somewhat sweet, but with a hint of something reminiscent of horse liniment. And the whole room had a smoky touch to the air.

Buck usually trusted his senses to tell him what was going on, but he could only shrug his shoulders. "I don't know."

Lou leaned over, as if to ask a question, but just then Teaspoon cleared his throat, grabbing their attention.

"Guess you might've been wonderin' what I been up to."

"Teaspoon, you've had us all puzzled," Polly replied.

Buck and Jimmy just exchanged a glance that pretty much said that 'puzzled' wasn't a strong enough word.

"Well, darlin', you got me to thinkin'," Teaspoon said. "When you said your whiskey prices had gone so high, I recollected how we solved that in the minin' camps." He walked over to another hay bale where something sat covered with what looked like one of Rachel's tablecloths. With a flourish he pulled the cloth away, revealing a large jug. "And here's your answer!" he said proudly.

The others all just looked at each other. "Uh, Teaspoon, what is it?" Jimmy finally asked for all of them.

"Why, it's the finest ruckus juice any o' you are ever gonna taste," Teaspoon said. He pulled out some cups from behind the bale and started to pour. "That's whiskey to you." He started to hand out the cups, oblivious to the worried looks on the faces around him.

Finally, when everyone had a cup, Teaspoon stood in front of them and cleared his throat again. "I just gotta say, this is all thanks to Polly. If'n she hadn't mentioned the high prices, I mighta forgotten all about doin' this."

"Oh, really, Teaspoon," Polly began. "You shouldn't have . . ."

But Teaspoon wasn't listening. "I remember them camps, we was workin' the mines all day, and workin' up a powerful thirst. But there weren't no towns near. So Milt, he figured out how to set up a still." He gestured proudly at the equipment behind him. "And that's what we got here, thanks to Janos." He bowed in the blacksmith's direction.

"It was not a problem," Janos said slowly, sounding as if he wasn't sure how to take what his work had produced.

"An' it worked just fine," Teaspoon continued. "I'm figurin' we can run a whole bunch o' batches, keep Polly's place supplied. An' if I get some help, might be we can run enough to supply the other saloon too." He looked meaningfully at Buck and Jimmy as he talked about the extra help.

When neither of them answered, he lifted his cup in a toast. "Here's to Rock Creek's finest cool water." He raised his cup and took a deep drink, letting the liquid roll on his tongue before swallowing in one gulp. There was a pause, while the others all watched in anticipation, and then he sighed. "Ahhhh, smooth as Tennessee whiskey," he said proudly.

No one else moved, so Teaspoon took a step forward. "Well, drink up. It's the first batch of many!"

Slowly, hesitantly, the others lifted their cups. They looked around the circle, seemingly drawing courage from each other. And then, almost as one, they each took a sip.

Polly's eyes went wide, and her right hand went to her throat. It almost seemed like she wanted to cough, but didn't have the breath. Next to her, Janos turned away and he did start coughing.

Kid choked and snorted, his eyes filled with tears, while Lou spit half of her sip back into her glass. Buck managed to swallow, but the grimace on his face told the story of what he thought of the brew. And Jimmy barely got the liquid into his mouth before he spit it out, spraying it on the ground in front of him.

But Teaspoon didn't even notice. He was lovingly stroking the jug, while gazing at his beloved still. "Yes, sir," he said, to no one in particular. "Fine as any Tennessee whisky. Now all I need is to order some more supplies. The corn worked real well, but might be I'll try potato next time . . ."

Behind him, cups were strewn here and there on the floor, the moonshine soaking into the dirt. And the barn had emptied, as the others ran, putting as much distance between themselves and Teaspoon's plan as possible.

(continued from QF68: Last Promises and Through the Fire)

The words sounded sweetly in his head as though it were a part of polite dinner conversation. 'What right did a man have to a life full of love?'

"Not a damn bit."

"You said somethin', Marshal Cain?" The bartender paused in mid-swipe and gave him a smile.

Sam slapped his glass on the scarred wood and lifted his chin. "Another and keep 'em comin'."

If the man took exception to Sam's harsh tone he didn't let on. He merely lifted the bottle from behind the bar and twisted off the top. The whiskey poured slow and deep sloshing against the side before coming to rest a few inches of amber in an old dirty glass, it was watered down a bit, but then again… who didn't water their whiskey if they wanted to make money?

He'd covered three towns and nearly sixty miles of dust and dirt between them. There wasn't a trail he didn't follow, a sign of passing he didn't investigate. After awhile, when the whiskey wore off he realized that he was following himself around in the desert.

That's when he'd found his way into Grafton Springs. The sign at the edge of town had looked nice enough, but then again, the bullet holes letting streams of light through the faded paint should have given him some indication of what he was in for.

There wasn't any law as far as he could see and the bartender had been a bit too happy to see the sun glare off of his badge.

"You see a couple of men come into town in the last few days?"

Shrugging, the man turned back to refilling bowls full of dried peanuts. "We see a lot of folks come and go. When, I can't be sure."

"They'd be travelin' with a man in bandages." Another gulp of whiskey and Sam tried to swallow his guilt along with it.

"Bandages? Friends of yours, Marshal? What happened to him?"

A bowl slid over the counter and bumped against Sam's arm he didn't seem to realize what had happened. "Friends?" The scoffing tone in Sam's voice was dark. "He'll have some marks on his face… my wife saw to that… before he killed her."

The bartender leaned closer, his elbow landing in the middle of a puddle on the wood. "I wouldn't mention too many things around here… too many ears… too many nosy folks…" he leaned closer and had to whisper his next words, " too many folks that would enjoy the telling."

His point registered on Sam's face and the bartender sighed. "There's nothin' around here but law breakers and potential victims. You can look around… but I think the men you're lookin' for are long gone."

That said, the bartender lifted the whiskey bottle again, considering the action with his hand on the top. A moment later, he set the bottle down beside the broken lawman. "Here. You can have it… no charge… you look like you need to forget."

Sam grabbed the bottle in his hand and turned it around, absently reading the words written on the label. "Forget. Not damn likely."

He slid off the bar stool and wrapped his fingers around the neck before yanking the bottle off the counter. "Thanks."

The bartender waved him off. "No need to mention it-"

Sam paused at the doorway, his body only visible as a shadow in the late afternoon sun. "I had to say it, it's not like I'll ever be back."