The faint, tinny scream pierced the cold evening air, filtering through the shuttered windows like a distant echo. The first to notice was the dog, who raised his head and angled his floppy ears towards the apparent direction of the sound. Bella stared at him, and then she heard it too, high-pitched and prolonged - and as Abe and the children noticed the movement and stopped to listen, they caught its ragged end, and then silence.
    It came from Alison's home.
    Bella jumped to her feet and got out the rifle from behind the cupboard, while Abe ran out to get his axe. "Dora Mae," she said, "fetch a rope. Malachi, Toby, come with me." They went out in the greyish dusk and were immediately followed by the swarming mass of the smallest children, little sisters carried on the arms of the brothers. "Stay behind, you," she warned them as her husband rejoined her, then they all started running towards Alison's farm.
    The lamp in the kitchen was on. Bella's heart was beating the time in her ears, and it could not have been more than a minute and a half until she grabbed the handle of Alison's front door and shoved it open, gun pointed, flanked by an axe-wielding Abe, a rope-swinging Dora Mae, Malachi and Toby ready for a fistfight and the little ones peeking in from the sides.
    Alison sat calmly at the kitchen table, just a little red in the cheeks, and greeted them with a smile, massaging her throat. Before her, McKay was pressing his hands on his ears and looked shocked, as much as for what had just passed than for the sudden incursion of the next-door family.
    Alison cleared her throat with a little grimace and looked sweetly at him, reaching across the table to take his hands. "See?" she said. "They can hear me."
    "What?" he said loudly.
    Bella stared at her, appalled. "This - this was just a test?"
    Alison nodded. "He wasn't convinced that I can call for help any moment and that you'd be here in..." - she glanced at the clock on the wall - "less than two minutes."
    Bella waved a finger towards her, at a loss for word. "You don't dare," she spluttered. "You don't dare do such a thing again unless you got a real good motive!"
    They turned and started away, Malachi and Toby looking a little disappointed. Before going, the tall, willowy Dora Mae flashed a big grin at Alison and said "That was fun!" Her mother grabbed her and pushed her on her way.
    
    When the prattling sound outside had vanished, McKay drew back his hands from Alison's and glowered at her, arms crossed. She got up to clear the table. "Sorry, love," she said, "but now you know. I'm never really alone, here."
    McKay shook his head slightly to clear away the last traces of dazedness. "What if you hadn't the opportunity to scream?" he said coldly.
    Alison looked at him, exasperated. "We can see for miles around. Nobody could creep up on me undetected when I'm outdoors. And here, you know how the door of the shack creaks..." She put the plates in the wooden basin, close to the pump, and let her arms fall along her sides. "What's the point of this discussion, McKay? I've lived here alone since Susan left, and I keep living here alone when you're not home, which is the better part of the month, when we're lucky. Is there anything we could do about it?"
    McKay looked at her. "You could come to live at the fort with me."
    Alison sighed. "We already talked about this. I'd have to sell the farm, because right now I can't afford myself any other help beside Bella and Abe."
    "My pay - "
    "Your pay already goes into the extra work we have had since we got married."
    He pushed back his chair in frustration. Dammit, most soldier's wives didn't even work and they got along fine with a trooper's pay, how come the McKay household was always so hard-up? He wished he could get that bloody promotion to sergeant major - but the ranks were full at Fort Lafayette, he was still a little too young, and even though his career had been long, it did not justify an advancement... its highlights being the Palmer Creek mission on which weighed O'Connor's negative report, his insubordination to Major Morrison, and his glorious conquest of the Red Needle for a man who had already been booted out of the Army.
    "There's my father's money," he added.
    Alison sighed, smiling. She dried her hands in the towel and came close to him, grasping his shoulders. "I don't want to use that. If I came to live with you, your father's money would dwindle away paying helpers for the farm, until there was no more, and we'd be back where we started. No, I'd really like to keep that for emergencies." She pressed his shoulders affectionately. "Listen - I'm still feeling the effects of last year's stock market crack and of Susan's departure. Soon the farm will begin to be productive again. Eggs, milk, corn... they'll sell better. I'll raise the rent on my fields, just a little. I could even be able to buy more land."
    "Your forbidden dream, hm?" he said with a smile.
    "You bet," she whispered. "At that point the farm will have gathered enough momentum to proceed on its own. I'd hire more help and be able to come here just once a week, say."
    "You know what my forbidden dream is?"
    She came around him and circled his neck with her arms, while he, still sitting, took her by the hips. "Is it mentionable?" she asked.
    He smiled. "Breedin' horses. In another twenty years, when I retire, I'll need to have somethin' to look forward to."
    She laughed, throwing back her head, letting him pull her closer. "I just can see the two of us - sitting on the porch on our rocking chairs, while our horses roam our extensive pastures!"
    He leaned his head on her breast in mock dejection. "I just can see the two of us, runnin' like hell through our extensive pastures to prevent 'em horses from thrashin' the corn, 'cause some younger McKay forgot to fix the gap in the fence."
    "That too," she said with a sweet, anticipating smile, running her hands through his hair and pressing him against her. The moment was getting very languid, with his hands softly straying about her, his lips between her breasts as he sought to capture her scent through the buttoned opening of her dress. Alison suddenly felt uneasy. "Uh, Terence, before you get more inspired - got to tell you, it's not the right moment."
    He looked up at her. "You mean you got your monthly?"
    She smiled at his forwardness. "Not yet. But I've been feeling cramps all day. It'll be tomorrow or the day after at most. And I'm getting a little sore there too..."
    McKay hastily pulled away his hand from the sore part. "Sorry." He placed a little kiss on it, which, cramps or no cramps, gave Alison a pleasant flutter in her belly. "Sit down, then," he said, and drew her in his lap.
    "Too bad," Alison sighed. "It was the same at Christmas, and two days after our marriage..."
    "Tell you what we'll do," he said in that soft Southern lilt of his. "We'll put a couple more logs on the fire and get under our blankets. We could let the cat in and make him sleep on your stomach, to keep you warm. An' if you can't sleep, I'll read somethin' to you. Maybe from that Whitman collection Sully an' Dr. Quinn gave us for Christmas. Somethin' fittin' for a young cat's ears, of course."
    Alison nuzzled his neck. Not for the first time she thought he would make such a wonderful father. She sighed again.
    "Let's go," McKay said. He got up, lifting her in his arms. She laughed and held more tightly to his neck as he carried her to the bedroom. He placed her on the bed, sitting beside her and looking down at her without any apparent sign of fatigue for having carried a big girl around.
    She stretched languorously and kept holding his hand. "Promise me you'll do exactly this same thing next time I don't have any cramps."
    "I will," he answered, and bent down to give her a light, lingering kiss on her lips.
    She enjoyed it for some moments, then  began squirming. She firmly pushed him away. "Next time, McKay, I mean it."
    He pulled back reluctantly. He kissed her forehead, just to have the last word, then straightened up. "I'll finish in the kitchen."
    She watched him go, arms behind her head, smiling. Can't get him off myself, she thought, warmly pleased. If only her cramps relented a little, he deserved at least a small token of esteem... She was actually looking forward to it, when suddenly she heard someone knock on the door in the kitchen.
    McKay turned toward the door, alert. "Who's there?"
    "Sully."
    Surprised at the lateness of the visit, the sergeant went to open. The mountain man stood there, hands in the pocket of his buckskin jacket. "McKay."
    "Hi, Sully. What brings you here?"
    "Evenin', Alison," Sully said as she appeared at the door of the bedroom. He returned his attention on McKay. "Need your help. There's a horse in town, was wandering by the depot. Looks like Army. Saddled, no trace of the rider."
    McKay frowned. "What kind of horse?"
    Sully shook his head. "Didn't see it well. Light-coated, it seemed. Robert E took care of it."
    The sergeant thought about it. "I'll come have a look. I'll be back in a moment, Alison."
    She looked worried. "I'd like to come with you..."
    "Not now. Probably it's nothin' serious. Sometimes a trooper dismounts to, you know, relieve himself, an' his horse just walks away." He didn't add he had first-hand experience of such accidents. "Shut yourself in."
    Alison nodded. "Don't be afraid to knock, I'll wait up for you."
    "No, don't. I'll come tapping at the window." He kissed her cheek, then took the first thing he found hanging by the door, his civilian leather wool-lined coat.
    "Night, Alison," said Sully going out. She waved a hand at him, then shut the door behind them.
    
    The horse was a medium-sized mare, a yearling, nervy and strong, with a cinnamon coat and a fine wavy blond mane. McKay watched it carefully by Robert E's lamp. "Yes, I seen her somewhere," he nodded. "McClellan saddle. Army, no doubt. An' here... yes, she got the brand of the Sixth. Could be one of ours."
    "Stolen?" asked Sully.
    "With the saddle on? Don't think so. It may be just the case I was mentionin' before - she lost her rider somehow." He thought about the fort's schedule for that day. "A party was to fix the telegraph line, but they should all be home by now. I don't think anybody was to be sent out at this hour. Unless, somebody with time off..." He got closer to the horse to check the saddlebags, and the beast dodged and snorted.
    McKay was surprised. "There, there, li'l girl, don't be upset." He put his open hand under her nostrils, without touching her. The horse sniffed and bent a little her head. "See? I'm a friend. Got anythin' to give her, Robert E?"
    The blacksmith was admiring his way with horses. He took a sack and handed the sergeant some carrot bits. McKay weighed them in his hand, catching the mare's darting eye. "Hmmm, delicious, wish I could have 'em myself," he went on in a soothing tone. He held his hand under the mare's muzzle and was rewarded by her dipping her head and starting to nibble. "Nice girl, good girl. Ow. That was my hand." He caressed the horse's neck. "Better now? Hm? Want some more?"
    Robert E nudged Sully. "Seems he met his long-lost sister," he muttered.
    McKay ran his hand on the pale fur, thickened by the rigid season, and turned to them in all seriousness. "She's frightened. All shaken up. Somethin' happened. Her rider didn't just dismount to have a pee." Taking advantage of his new-found kinship with the mare, he opened the saddlebags.
    Meanwhile, a small crowd had gathered around the livery. "There you are, Sully," called Michaela, leaning her elbows on the corral. Her husband waved at her. Brian was by her side and Dorothy on the other.
    McKay had pulled out a good-sized Bowie knife. He examined the handle. "It's Coverdale's knife," he said with certainty. "He made me try to throw it once, but the handle's too heavy for me." He hefted it in his palm, thoughtfully.
    "Wanna skin someone, Sarge?" called Loren, approaching with the Reverend.
    McKay lifted his eyes, conceded him a smirk and looked around at the growing throng. "Anybody seen this horse before?" he asked aloud. Shaking of heads. "Or his rider, a trooper, a Bill Coverdale, tall, thin, about thirty, red hair, moustache?" No answers.
    By then the townies were muttering to each other. "A horse." "A riderless horse." "A horseman." "Horseless." "Riderless." "Rider." "Horse." "Horseman."
    Hank strolled casually by. "What's the matter?" he asked to the first person he saw, the nice old lady with the white curls.
    The lady turned and looked at him, appalled. "A headless horseman," she told him with certainty.
    "What?!" Hank lifted his gaze and spotted McKay in the middle of the crowd. "That's absurd, McKay!"
    "I'm afraid not, Hank," said the sergeant, grimly. He lifted his hands. "You'd better all go home an' keep watch."
    Daniel looked around thoughtfully. "Musta been pretty desperate to attack a cavalryman."
    "He'll be desperate all right when we catch him," answered McKay ruthlessly, "if he did somethin' bad to Coverdale."
    "We'll organise a search," said Daniel.
    Matthew stood there, holding Katie in his arms. "I'll come with you. Dr. Mike, you'd better stay at the clinic tonight."
    Michaela crossed her arms. "We can't leave the homestead at the mercy of everybody, Matthew!" she protested.
    "We'll have a look at it," Matthew assured her.
    Michaela did not look convinced, but Sully flanked her and nodded. "I'll stay here with you and the children."
    "Wanna tome too, Matt," Katie told him.
    Her brother smiled. "Katie, you're too little to take part in a search. Ask me again when you can ride, eh?"
    "I tan wide," she said sulkily.
    "Pa put you on a saddle, but it's not the same," declared Matthew, handing her to Sully. "Gotta put your feet into the stirrups."
    "Trups?"
    McKay was staring at them with a worried look.
    "We'll take care of everythin' here," said Loren. "You go check on your farm, Sarge."
    "I'll come with you." said Robert E, after putting the mare in the stable and giving instructions to one of his helpers.
    "You sure?" asked the sergeant. "You gotta look after your family..."
    "We'll be protected here," answered Grace, holding little Isabel in her arms.
    "Better not go about alone tonight," added Robert E. He patted gingerly the gun he had tucked into his belt. "You saw what happened to that soldier of yours. An' I wanna check on Abe's folks too."
    "We still don't know. Anyway... thanks. Anybody who has news, report here to Horace." He mounted his horse and sped away in the night. Robert E kissed his two ladies and followed him.
    Horace looked around proudly. "I'll be at my office. And armed!"
    Loren watched them go and shook his head. "Gotta organise everybody's life, eh?" he said crabbily. "As if we weren't able to defend ourselves. Rev, Dorothy - how 'bout spendin' the night at the store?"
    "Oh, Loren, that's a great idea," said Dorothy, and the Reverend nodded.
    Preston stepped up and addressed the three. "I have another suggestion. My bank is the most secure building of Colorado Springs, and I have no intention to leave it. If you wish, I could give you hospitality. You'd be utterly safe."
    Dorothy looked at him, astonished. "Why, Preston, how thoughtful of you! But I think Loren feels safer keepin' watch on his merchandise. We'll give him a hand."
    "Watch?" exclaimed Preston. "Just what kind of watch do you think you can keep, an old man, a blind man and a woman?"
    Dorothy stared coldly at him. "To think that for a moment I actually liked you," she glowered, as the Reverend pulled prudently her sleeve.
    
    Dutifully, Alison shuttered all the windows in the house. When she got to the last one in the bedroom, she was pretty frantic. "That man made me anxious," she muttered to herself. "All this worry just 'cause I'm here alone, as if it were a novelty." She sighed. She wished he would come back soon. The idea of snuggling under the covers with the cat on her stomach and her husband reading Whitman in his beautiful voice was just too appealing.
    Alison came back into the kitchen. Yeah, the cat. She looked around and spotted McKay's blue greatcoat hanging beside the door. She grabbed it and pulled it on, her braid tucked inside it. It was large for her and she risked tripping if she wasn't careful, yet it felt soft and warm and almost made her forget her cramps. She went out on the porch.
    "Cat?" she called. "Come in, cat." She tsk-tsked a little and did not get the usual meow of a hungry young feline.
    Alison looked around and moved a few steps away from the house. The moon was already high in a clean sky, halfway to full. The brilliance should have been heartening, but that icy luminous sky felt cold. She was beginning to have trouble standing up: she felt light-headed and a bit nauseous. She looked towards Bella's house for reassurance, buttoning up the coat. All the lights were down. Wisely, they were already all asleep.
    In the barn, her horse stamped nervously. She hugged the coat around her and went to have a look. The door creaked shrilly - she had to oil it, sometime. In the moonlight from the open door, everything looked all right. She patted her horse and went out. As she closed the barn she heard the hens clucking loudly.
    Coyotes? She quickly ran around the barn. Nothing.
    Alison reached the relative safety of the porch at a fast pace, her heart beating loud. She was getting jittery. Her instinct was going off like a bell, for no apparent reason. All McKay's fault. She'd get even for that. He had made her jumpy? She'd make him embarrassed. She was going to chose personally Whitman's poem for the night, cat or no cat.
    She turned sharply. But it was only her cow in the barn, a lumbering presence, more noisy than her horse. She shivered. "Cat!" she called one last time. Her voice sounded too loud. Oh well, he'll make himself heard if he wants to come in, she thought, and hastily went back inside the house.
    She barred the door behind her. She'd have preferred to have the cat with her. You're a fool, she thought, starting to unbutton the coat. There's absolutely nothing wrong out there.
    A step on the porch.
    Alison froze. She stepped back from the door and instinctively towards the fireplace and the gun above it.
    Somebody knocked at the door.
    She waited. If it was a friend, he or she would have called.
    Another knock, louder.
    Silently, Alison lifted the gun with both hands. She was shaking a little, but she managed not to make any noise, just a scraping of the metal barrel on the stone.
    Suddenly the door shook with a violent thud. Somebody had kicked it or hit it with the butt of a rifle. She almost screamed. Her heart shot to her throat. Another vicious blow. The bar cracked under it.
    With the last of her faculties she backed away towards the shack and opened the door. The small creaking got lost in the noise from the porch. As she shut it behind her she heard the intruder crash into the kitchen, smashing open the front door. She scrambled frantically to the back door of the shack, opened it and started running like in a nightmare, legs like lead, useless gun in her hands, up the hill towards the thickening woods.
    
    Hank knocked, and knocked again at the Mayor's door. His horse was champing fretfully behind him. "Come on, Jake," he shouted once more. He gave a good kick to the door. "Open up, dammit!"
    A window on the first floor creaked open, and Jake leaned out, naked from the waist up, rubbing one eye. "Hank?!"
    "Yeah, come on, open this door," Hank repeated, stealing nervous glances behind him. "I came to warn you, it's important."
    "It better be."
    "Let me in an' I'll tell ya."
    "You can talk very well from there."
    Hank made an impatient gesture. "Let me in, Jake!" he hissed. "It's dangerous out here!"
    "Dangerous?"
    "Yeah. There's a headless horseman around."
    "A what?"
    "You heard me, dammit, let me in!" Hank was beginning to hear all sorts of ominous sounds coming from the woods.
    "Hank, where did ya get this ridiculous notion?"
    "McKay told me!"
    "McKay? McKay's gone bonkers too! Cut it, Hank, I'm catchin' a cold."
    "Jake," pleaded Hank softly, looking up.
    His tone came through. Jake watched him doubtfully for another moment, then shrugged. "Alright, I'll be down there at once."
    Jake stepped back from the window. Huddled under the heavy covers, Teresa watched him. "Was that Hank? What did he want, Jacob?"
    "Gonna find out at once," Jake answered curtly, pulling his pants on.
    "Do you mean you are going downstairs to let him in?"
    "Have to. Otherwise he'll keep screamin' all night."
    "But then I have to come down with you and behave like the lady of the house."
    Jake paused as he buttoned up his shirt. He looked lovingly at her. "No need of that, Teresa. There's no doubt about who's the lady of the house here." He blinked, like he had said something slightly absurd. "You just go back to sleep - I'll take care of him." He went to the bed to give her a kiss, then exited the bedroom.
    Teresa watched him go. She felt like falling asleep again. But her pride told her she had to be welcoming to guests - no matter at what time of the day and night. She got up from the bed and started dressing quickly, shivering. Her distracted husband had forgotten to close the window.
    Jake set a lit lantern on the table, opened the front door and glowering let Hank into the nice parlour of his new home. They had gone to live in it just before Christmas. It was still a bit bare, but it was constantly improving.
    Hank darted in without looking back and shut the door himself. "Bar the windows," he said.
    "Hank, what's this all about?"
    "I told you. A headless horseman. It attacked one of McKay's people. They found his horse wanderin' scared just outside town."
    Jake sat down at the table, pressed a hand on his face and nodded slowly. "Yeah, sure."
    "Dontcha believe me?" blurted out Hank.
    "Hank - headless horsemen don't exist. Period."
    "But McKay - "
    "Since when d'you believe what McKay says? He probably saw a weird-lookin' shadow an' thought he should establish martial law! You know what he's like."
    Hank looked doubtfully at him.
    Teresa gave the last touches to her hair, checked her neckline and took a deep breath. She'd dressed at full steam and was a little winded. She pushed the door open. "Mr. Lawson! What a surprise. Can I offer you a cup of coffee?"
    "See?" grinned Hank. "Your wife does know how to behave, Jake. No, thanks, ma'am. Help me bar the windows."
    "Why?"
    "A headless horseman killed a soldier, cut away his head."
    Teresa covered her mouth, dark eyes wide. "Madre de Dios!" She crossed herself. She darted to a window and began shuttering it. Hank went to the other window.
    "Wish you two quieted down a li'l," grumbled Jake.
    Suddenly something - something odd - thudded against the door.
    All three stopped and looked at each other. Jake rose slowly from his chair, as Teresa reached him in haste. "Who's there?"
    Nobody answered. Another thud, sort of soft, and other noises.
    Hank looked at Jake. "Come on, you're the lord of the manor."
    "I ain't armed," whispered Jake, seeing that Hank had his pistol at his side.
    "Oh, well," exclaimed Teresa, grabbing a heavy chandelier, "if you two want to go on discussing..." She moved to the door.
    Jake's pride shook him. "Wait," he said. He pulled Teresa back, then breathed deeply and grabbed the handle, as Hank drew his gun and covered him.
    A big long head nodded towards him.
    Jake jumped back - then laughed nervously. "It's a horse!" he exclaimed. "A riderless horse - Hank, you may be right..."
    Hank had appeared at his side. "It's my horse, you fool!!" he shouted.
    "Ah, so now I'm the fool?! Where did you tie your damn horse? - sorry, dear." Jake ran a hand in his tousled hair, still a bit shaken. "Right. I'll go put it into the stable. You help Teresa shuttin' the windows."
    When he came back, Hank and Teresa had all but fortified the house. They barred the front door with a chair under the handle and sat down in the parlour, ready for everything.
    
    Alison's breath was gradually returning to normal - her heart, however, didn't seem to slow down. She was sitting down in a clump of wet leaves, behind a tree, gun on her knees. Her throat almost ached with dryness and her lungs still burned. She had forced back her breath so as not to make the slightest noise - yet it seemed they had not followed her.
    Now calm down, she told herself. There are strangers in your house. Their intentions don't look good. Run to Bella. Call for help. If McKay comes back unaware, he could get into trouble.
    Alison peeked from behind the tree. From where she stood, halfway up on the side of the hill, between the still scarce trees, her house was perfectly visible. There seemed to be nobody outside. She saw no horses - but then again they probably had tied them in front of the porch. The barn had not been opened, or she would have heard it.
    Warn Bella and Abe - but without being sure of what exactly was the danger? After the big scare, Alison was beginning to be furious. Strangers in her home! She checked that the gun was loaded. She got up carefully, still wrapped in the ample coat, and silently started down the hill, taking care not to slip on the damp soil. Thank goodness the snow of Christmas had all but melted. She had to check how many they were and how armed. She couldn't let her friends run risks - if necessary, they'd send somebody to call reinforcements.
    Alison reached the back of her house. All was silent. The back door of the shack was still ajar - for a moment she was afraid, then remembered she probably hadn't closed it while running out. Her blood was rushing madly in her veins, almost excitedly. She was frightened, but ready for action and fight... all this when she should have been in bed. A good cure for cramps, she mused.
    Noiselessly she stole along the side of the house and reached the porch. No horses. The door had been all but demolished; she saw the light coming through it, and her fury came back, together with fear at the memory of those violent thuds. She crept to the window and stealthily, most stealthily, looked in.
    There were two men standing in the kitchen. She barely glimpsed a big hulking fellow and his older comrade, then she ducked back to avoid being seen. She was not sure, but probably they were armed.
    She realised she could hear what they were saying through the cracks in the door.
    "... ain't nothin' here, boss," the younger man was saying.
    "Shuddup, ya moron," answered the other one. "This is the house. Lemme think. Furniture been moved... but I think I remember where it was."
    "Just hurry, boss. They'll see the light."
    "An' how come they'll see the light? 'Cause ya crashed the damn door! The old lady been here, she'd'a died of a stroke!"
    The old lady? thought Alison. Aunt Louisa! These people were searching for something that belonged to her deceased aunt!
    "Ain't no old lady 'round here. It's a soldier's house. Look at this picture. Hey, the girl's pretty."
    Alison shivered at his tone, disgusted at the thought of alien eyes on their wedding picture.
    "Yeah, an' the soldier's large. Don't wanna find 'im on my path. Come on, help me search, dammit! Havta be some marks on the floor. Yer eyes are younger."
    "My eyes were good in the mines, boss. Ten years in prison ruined 'em."
    "You ain't gonna need yer eyes ta earn a livin' when we git those five thousand dollars back."
    Alison's mind reeled. Five thousand dollars? Five thousand dollars hidden all this time under her kitchen floor? She tried to piece together what she had heard. Two ex-miners... probably from the old silver mines around Colorado Springs... they robbed the company, hid the money in Aunt Louisa's house and were caught. Ten years later they come back...
    "Will ya gimme a hand, you moron? Fireplace was burnin' - that soldier might come back any time!"
    "Uh, boss... maybe he was the one I struck down comin' here?"
    Alison gasped loudly.
    "Hey... there's someone outside!"
    She looked up, horrified. She had no time to reason on what she had just heard. She scrambled on her feet and hefted the gun. She was ready to shoot anybody point blank - her mind was screaming What have you done to McKay???
    The door swung open, a stream of light on the floor planks. Seconds passed, and the point of her gun was trembling. Nobody came out.
    She barely managed to think these people had already been here, they knew the house, they knew there was a back door and could sneak up behind her - then the butt of a rifle hit her square in the back of her head.
    
    The two men looked down at the prone figure in the shadow of the porch.
    "Well done, ya moron," said the older man, "knocked out 'nother soldier! Couldn't ya just disarm 'im?"
    "Sorry, boss," the younger miner admitted. "Ya know I'm frightened of soldiers."
    "Ain't no reason ta git ourselves into more trouble 'n we already are in!" The man knelt on the porch. "If ya killed 'im, we're done for." He reached inside the tall collar of the blue coat and searched quickly for the soldier's neck pulse. "He's alive." He placed his hand on the soldier's back. "He's breathin'. More luck 'n you deserve. Will ya help me search fer that bloody money, goddammit?"
    "We should look fer a rope an' tie 'im up - "
    "No time! This one's just a kid, he ain't the man in the picture. Prob'ly out on an errand. We'll have a whole garrison at our backs in minutes!" He took the soldier's gun. "Come on!"
    
    Alison came painfully to her senses. Her awareness of time was gone - it could have been the day after. She even felt she had dreamed about something as she lay there. She heaved herself up on her elbows. Her head felt like it was somebody else's, hanging clumsy and heavy on her neck.
    She forced herself to remember the important things. Men in her house. She could hear their voices. Had they done something to her? She didn't think so. But she had to get away. At once.
    Alison pulled herself up to a sitting position. Her head was throbbing wildly. She leaned her back on the wall, racked by dizziness and nausea. She had to wait for it to pass, excruciatingly, as she heard the strangers talk and feared they could come out again. When she felt a bit surer of herself she pushed her feet under her and got herself upright.
    The woods. They were still her best hope of survival. Alison couldn't reach Bella in that state, and all in the open. She had to hide. She started walking carefully, her hands on the walls, trying not to make any noise. When she was forced to abandon the support of her house she stopped another little bit to rest, then started the slow climb towards the woods.
    She had barely reached the first trees when she heard voices again. Shouts and curses. They were coming after her! She tried to make haste. She stole a look behind her and her heart shrank within her. The bigger of the two men was climbing the hill. He didn't seem to have noticed her yet, but he was moving fast.
    Alison skirted to the side, towards a thicker clump of trees, almost on top of the hill. She threw herself into it, curled up into a ball and remained perfectly still. Her breath came out of her open mouth, fast and painful. She could see the stars through the naked branches. She heard the man come closer. She saw him reach the summit of the hill. She saw him look around - for a moment she was certain he had seen her, as he prodded with his eyes the shadows where she lay.
    Then he was gone, back towards the farm. Alison didn't dare to move. She just huddled there in McKay's coat, flooded with relief, beginning to shiver violently.
    
    McKay and Robert E rounded the bend of the road and stopped their horses. No matter how worried he was, the sergeant could never reach that point without feeling in his heart the pull of home and of Alison's love, and remembering the first days of their acquaintance, the loneliness of those two months in Denver without her, the pure joy of their married life. He shook away those thoughts and dismounted. They had to be prudent and reach the farms on foot.
    They bordered Bella's fence, silent in the grass. The house was completely dark and hushed.
    "Looks all right," whispered Robert E. "I don't know, I always found it risky for 'em to live out here alone... but Abe wanted out of Shantytown. It's nice your wife an' 'em protect each other."
    McKay turned his gaze on Alison's farm. "Yes, looks quiet there too..." He narrowed his eyes in the dark. There was a speck of light on the porch. "That's odd," he said, "the door seems open."
    "You got a cat, dontcha?" said Robert E with a smile. "Your wife's prob'ly out after him."
    "Yes," repeated McKay, thoughtfully. He tied his horse to the fence and moved a little closer. "Yet it seems... like..." He walked again towards the dirt road, so as to see his house from the front. Then he froze. The light came from a big crack in the door.
    He turned to Robert E with a sharp nod, then started running towards his home. The blacksmith secured his own horse and ran after him. He caught up with him breathlessly when McKay was just approaching the house, crouching down on the porch and pulling out his gun. Robert E knelt down beside him and they both looked into the kitchen.
    Two strangers, armed, dangerous-looking, were trying to move the cupboard from the wall.
    Rank, training, experience all forgotten, McKay almost threw himself in. Robert E grabbed him by the shoulder and forcefully pulled him back to sit on the porch. By the light of the dipping moon he noticed the panicked eyes of the younger man. In Robert E's opinion, McKay was the kind who liked to be in control, of himself if nothing else. It was disquieting to see him on the verge of losing his head.
    He shook him slightly. "Means nothin'," he whispered. "Gotta look 'round."
    McKay nodded, biting his lip to collect himself. Having established the chain of command, Robert E motioned him to stay down and looked inside once again. He knew it didn't look good - two strange men in the kitchen and Alison nowhere to be seen. He felt a stab of terror at the memory of the family he had lost so long ago. He had to collect his wits himself.
    He knelt down again. He remembered vaguely the disposition of the house from having helped Sully restructure it for Alison's marriage. "Those doors on the back - the one on the left's the shack, right?"
    McKay nodded.
    Robert E gave him another pat on the shoulder. "Don't move for no reason." He got up and stole towards the back of the house.
    It was for McKay one of the longer waits of his life, sitting under his own window, clutching his pistol, trying to force out of his mind images that could have made anybody crazy if looked at for too long. His lips were forming Alison's name, over and over again, with every breath, as if he could reach her somehow.
    Robert E came back. "She ain't here," he whispered quickly. "Shack's empty. There's an open shutter in the bedroom, I managed to look in, nothing. She must have fled. Maybe she's at Bella's."
    "No, she'd'a sent somebody to warn us," McKay answered. "Shall we call 'em?"
    "Reckon we can take care of this ourselves. Go to the shack. When you get in from the back, I'll enter by the door."
    "Right," nodded McKay, and disappeared.
    Robert E took place by the door, hoping the sergeant's shaken nerves didn't get them into trouble.
    McKay walked quietly around the outhouse and to the shack door. After his brief lapse, he was back into his soldier's state of mind. No matter what, there were things that you simply had to do. He had to know where Alison was. He could not just barge in there and kill the men who had violated his house. He had to obtain information, before that.
    He let himself into the shack, as silent as a cat - yes, where's the cat? came the unbidden thought, immediately pushed to the back of his mind. He went to the door. He listened briefly: the men were still arguing about the cupboard. (My cupboard... Alison's cupboard!) He put his left hand on the handle, turned it quietly, then pushed.
    "Hands up!" he shouted, pointing his gun. Startled, the men did a turnabout, and at the same moment Robert E crashed in from the front door and trained his gun on them.
    The men did not even try to reach for their pistols. They just stood there, glowering at each other, while Robert E disarmed them.
    McKay put back his gun into the holster, came up to the smallest man who looked like he was in charge and grabbed him by the lapels of his musty leather jacket. "Where's my wife?" he hissed.
    "Y-your wife?" stammered the man.
    "Yes, my wife! You broke into my house! My wife was here! What did you do to her?"
    "There was nobody here," said the man. "Just that young soldier."
    "What young soldier?"
    The man was beginning to get frantic. "Dunno, came up on us, didn't mean to hurt him, we just knocked 'im out!"
    "Like the other one," added the bigger man. The other kicked him in the shin.
    "Coverdale? What did you do to him!" growled McKay. A thought was beginning to form in his mind - seeing them, Alison could have taken refuge into the woods. "Robert E," he said, "there's a rope in the shack, get it."
    The younger man let out a squeal. "You gonna hang us?"
    "I'd like to!" snapped McKay, as Robert E came back from the shack and began tying their wrists behind their backs. "You're lucky I'm bound to my duty as a soldier! But you'll have to answer for whatever happened to Coverdale, an'..."
    "You a soldier?" exclaimed the older man.
    "'Course I am!" McKay remembered he wore a civilian's coat, and his yellow-striped trousers were not so evident. "I'm Sergeant McKay an' you're in big trouble!" He saw the man's eyes go from his face to the portrait on the mantelpiece and recognise him. The thought probably came to both of them at once. Simple mathematics. Two people in a portrait, a soldier and a woman. The woman is nowhere to be seen. The man comes in without his uniform - and then there's a young soldier unaccounted for... McKay turned sharply and looked at the clothes' rack beside the door. His greatcoat was gone.
    His heart jumped again into his throat. "What did you do to that young soldier?" he said slowly.
    "Nothing! We just knocked him on the head, but she - he - she was alright, she wasn't dead! She ran away!"
    In a moment McKay was out of the house. "Alison!" he called. There was nobody in sight for miles. He went to the back. Nothing. "Alison!" he called again. He looked up helplessly at the darkness of the woods. "ALISON!"
    If Bella could hear Alison screaming from inside her house, even more so she could hear McKay calling at the top of his voice from outside. In a moment, the whole family was on their feet.
    
    Michaela opened her eyes in the darkness. She was lying on a cot in the big room of the clinic which had been so often filled with ill people. A strange, piercing memory of the diphtheria epidemic came back to her. Then she remembered. They had gathered there because somebody had attacked one of McKay's men, and the town felt unsure.
    She looked immediately for Katie and was relieved to see her slumbering in Brian's arms. Grace and Isabel were similarly lying nearby - the woman had insisted that she could stay at her home, that she was armed, that Robert E trusted her to protect the house, until Sully had practically picked her and her daughter up and locked them inside the clinic. They could almost see their house from there, anyway.
    Sully was standing guard by the window. Michaela got up and went to him. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Sleep a little, now," she whispered.
    Sully looked up at her by the light of a single lantern. "Ain't tired yet," he answered.
    "Yes, you are," she said with assurance. She bent down and gave him a light kiss on the lips. "Lie down a bit."
    He held her close for a moment. Then he nodded, stretched and got up from the chair he was sitting in. She took his place and tried to send him to a more comfortable cot. He'd have none of it. He lay at her feet and propped his head against her knees.
    Michaela smiled, looking tenderly down at him as he closed his eyes. She caressed his hair softly. He had recently cut it a little on the front, and it stood up funnily between her fingers. She sighed gratefully, and resumed the watch.
    The street outside was silent. The Gold Nugget was ablaze with light - Hank's bartender and the girls had decided it was the best way to scare intruders away. The moon had gone down since long. The night was so quiet that Michaela began thinking all this had been maybe slightly exaggerated. There was that riderless horse, surely, but maybe there was a more reassuring explanation...
    A bloody head looked into the window.
    Michaela stifled a scream. But her jump was enough to wake Sully, who shot to his feet. "What's it?"
    The bloody head had disappeared. Somebody else would have been seized by a superstitious terror. Michaela grabbed the lantern and her medical bag and ran out.
    On the porch of the clinic lay a man in the blue uniform of a trooper. Michaela knelt by him, setting down the lantern. He was a young man with a bushy moustache, bleeding from a gash in the forehead. He opened her eyes and looked at her. "Bill Coverdale, 6^th Cavalry, Troop N, posted at Fort Lafayette, at your service, ma'am," he said weakly.
    She smiled. "Easy, Private Coverdale, you're safe now," she said. As the others came outside the clinic to look, she lifted her lantern and checked his pupils. Then they helped him up and laid him on a cot. Michaela had more lanterns lit and began immediately to stitch him up. "Listen, I know you're feeling weak, but... can't you tell us what happened to you?"
     "Yes, ma'am," he answered. "I was comin' down here for a coupla hours off, you know, an' I came over two shady characters in the woods who were talkin' 'bout breakin' into an old woman's house. I stopped 'em an' asked 'em to follow me, but one of 'em frightened my horse, an' I fell an' hit my head." He smiled boyishly. "Not much of a trooper, eh?"
    "Better 'n lettin' your horse walk away while - " Sully noticed Michaela, Grace and Brian looking at him interestedly. "Never mind."
    "An old woman's house," mused Michaela as she put on the last stitches. "I wonder who they meant. There are no old women living alone in Colorado Springs, now."
    Grace nodded. "The last one I remember was Louisa Lowell, Alison McKay's aunt," she said. "But she passed away more than four years ago."
    "Yes," added Sully. "Alison an' Susan came to live here after inheritin' - " He broke off suddenly.
    "Alison's house," whispered Michaela.
    Coverdale looked up in alarm. "Not my sergeant's wife? I gotta -"
    "No, you stay here," the doctor said firmly. "Here - I'm finished with you. Rest a little. We'll take care of it."
    "I'll look after him," said Grace.
    "Thank you," said Michaela. She and Sully embraced Brian and a now very awake Katie, then went to their horses.
    
    Alison thought she must have blanked out for some time. The shivers woke her up. The night was still very deep, even more so in the wood. Her head still hurt hellishly. She was cold and frightened, and the cramps were coming back. She thought about what the strangers had said before she had been hit - the very cause of it. They had attacked a soldier. She had been afraid it could be McKay, but then she had thought about the riderless horse. No, McKay was probably safe, God willing; but she had to warn someone.
    She tried to get up. The cold was unbelievable, even with the greatcoat. She leaned on a tree and steadied herself. She thought about those five thousand dollars under her kitchen floor. She just had to tell somebody and stop those men.
    Her knees refused to support her. Alison fell back on the soft damp soil, feeling sick. She tried to be optimistic. Nobody that she knew had died of monthly cramps. She could have a concussion, but she was still alive. And in those woods there were no mountain lions - no grizzlies - well, none that they knew about. The strangers seemed to have abandoned the search for her. All she had to do was rest just a little bit more, then move towards Bella's house, keeping to the woods. She had to reach the top of the hill: walking on the crest would have been easier. It must not be more than a quarter of an hour, all together. It was almost adventurous.
    She shivered again, feeling miserable. She opened her eyes. Utter darkness. The moon was down. No lights toward her house - or rather...
    Somebody was coming up the hill with a lantern. She froze. They were searching for her with lights. She should not let them get to her. She started burrowing in the old leaves, trying to disappear between the roots of a tree.
    She curled up on herself as tight as she could. Suddenly the whole wood was full of lights. They looked like fireflies, and yet it was not yet summer. They even were calling her name. Leave me alone, she thought, shutting her eyes. Go away. I need to rest now. I need to sleep and then go to Bella's house. Bella's house, just a little walk along the crest. Careful not to slip.
    She heard an exclamation. Someone was touching her, pulling her up. She turned sleepily, as if she had just awakened in her own bed. By the light of the lantern set on the ground she saw McKay's face, lit up like an angel's.
    "Alison," he breathed, falling on his knees beside her. He tried to call the others, but nothing came out. He lifted her to a sitting position and held her to his chest, rocking her, warming her.
    "Five thousand dollars," she whispered.
    "What?" he said.
    "Five thousand dollars in the kitchen, Terence."
    "Now, Alison, don't talk, you're..."
    She hit his shoulder with a loose fist. "Ain't delirious. Look under the floorboards. Oh, Terence - I knew you'd find me."
    The other searchers were gathering around them, Robert E and Bella's folks. Alison felt embarrassed to be seen in such a low state by a lot of people. She hid her face against McKay's chest. He placed an arm under her knees and lifted her up, remembering her words a few hours before - it was not like this he had dreamed it, not like this. But she was alive. He carried her down the hill and to the house.
    On the porch, he found Michaela and Sully with one of Bella's brood.
    "McKay!" the doctor exclaimed. "What happened to her?"
    McKay looked at them, not understanding how they had got there. He went into the house through the broken door as if walking in a dream.
    Michaela ran after him. "We've found Coverdale, he's all right. Let me bring Alison to the clinic!"
    "No," he said, holding his wife to his chest, jealously. He entered their bedroom and laid her on the bed. Only then did the fatigue appear in his posture and his face.
    Michaela snorted. "All right, I'll see her here," she said. "Leave us alone, please."
    McKay sat on the bed. Alison appeared to have fallen into a slumber. He took out some small leaves from her hair. "I ain't leavin' her."
    Sully appeared behind him. "She's in good hands," he told him. "Come away."
    Dazedly, McKay let Sully drag him out.
    In the kitchen, Robert E was looking at the floor under the partially moved cupboard. "There's something here," he said. "Like a trapdoor."
    "Five thousand dollars," McKay whispered. He sat down heavily at the table. The small black cat wandered in as if nothing had happened. He picked it up and started stroking it absently, much to the cat's puzzlement, not used to such effusions. "She spoke of five thousand dollars in the kitchen..."
    Sully and Robert E looked at each other. "Well, there's only one way to be sure," said the blacksmith. "Help me here."
    With Sully and McKay's support, he managed to move the cupboard completely away from the trapdoor. The sergeant would have done anything to get Alison's plight out of his mind. He went into the shack and took out a crowbar. They started pushing and pulling at the boards.
    "Five thousand dollars," repeated McKay in a monotone. "Enough to pay all the debts an' give a boost to the farm. Enough to have her live with me at the fort."
    His tone made Robert E look up. "Ain't your fault, McKay," he said. "Coulda happened any time."
    "But I wasn't here."
    "You were here, you just were called away," said Sully. "Wouldn't be different at the fort. She'd always have her own errands to do alone. I know how it is. Stop thinkin' about it. You coulda done nothin'."
    "Yeah," McKay answered bitterly. "Don't know what I complain about. Most of my comrades, they live away from their wives for years on end. Why should I be different? I don't deserve nothin' better." He gave a hard, furious push to the crowbar. One board creaked and lifted, revealing a space under it.
    The three men looked at each other. Even though Sully and Robert E had no claims to the money, their eyes were shining for the excitement of the discovery. McKay looked positively crazed.
    "You'll have to give 'em back," Sully warned him.
    "But prob'ly they'll give him a reward, won't they?" Robert E said.
    "A reward's enough," McKay whispered. He pulled away the board, knelt by the hole and put his hand into it.
    "So, what's inside?" said Robert E, leaning forward to see.
    McKay felt the cloth of an old sack and knew. Unbelievable. Dollar bills... they had buried five thousand dollars in paper bills. In a simple canvas sack. Ten years of lying in the soft, wet earth. The sack was torn and mouldy, and the contents, whatever they had been - the contents were nothing but a slimy goo.
    Slowly, McKay took out his hand. He sat back on his heels and started rubbing it with the other hand, unmindful of Sully and Robert E's curious stares, shaking away the fragments of a dream.
    Michaela came out of the bedroom. "Alison will be all right," she said at once. "She has a small concussion, nothing else. She'll have to rest a few days." The cat seized the opportunity to sneak into the room.
    McKay lifted a relieved gaze on her.
    "You'll have to look after her, though," the doctor added. "She's a little out of her mind. She keeps telling me of five hundred dollars - what is she talking about?"
    McKay shook his head. "Nothin'. There's nothin' here. May I see her now?"
    Michaela nodded. The sergeant got up and went into the bedroom.
    Sully and Robert E looked at each other, worried. They had never seen McKay so distraught. It looked like he had realised for the first time that being married to an independent woman who led her own life, as they both had learned very well, involved wrenching heartaches as well as invaluable pleasures. And Sully knew what it meant to leave his loved ones for days, even if it was for an important mission. McKay had to do that on a regular basis... how could he bear it?
    The board was still lying across the hole. Robert E bent down. "Said there's nothin' here," he murmured, and began hammering it back into place.
    
    McKay sat beside Alison. Michaela had cleaned her face a little. She looked pale, but the eyes that appeared under the eyelids were bright. The cat was curled up at her feet. "Have you - " she began.
    McKay smiled and took her hand. "There was nothin', Alison."
    "But - "
    "No."
    She watched him closely. She could see the pain in his face like plain words. She held out a hand and caressed his cheek. "It doesn't matter, Terence," she said. "It will get better."
    "It is already," he said. "You're safe, now."
    "Yes, I'm safe, thanks to you."
    McKay kissed her hand. He took her face between his hands, running his fingers in her tangled hair, all the while smiling that sweet smile. He kissed her face, softly - all of her face, and her lips most tenderly. Her eyelids were getting heavier. He pulled out his boots and his belt and slipped under the covers with her, gathering her to himself. She snuggled against his chest, feeling warm and secure at last. Sleep claimed her as he still kept covering her with kisses.
    
    As Michaela, Sully and Robert E reached Colorado Springs, dawn was beginning to break in the East. They first told the news of the capture to a sleepy but impervious Horace, who immediately started spreading it in the town after wiring the sheriff in Denver to come and take away the two thieves. They had left Bella and Abe to watch them. Since nobody had been hurt badly, the two were likely to get away with another ten years in prison.
    In the clinic, the trooper was resting. Grace and Brian had taken turns watching him and the children. Robert E collected his family and went home, inwardly thanking the Lord for them with special fervour.
    Michaela lifted the sleeping Katie in her arms. "Brian," she said, "any news of Matthew?"
    "He went with Daniel to search the woods," Sully reminded her. "They probably found nothin' an' are still searchin'. Don't worry, Michaela, they'll be back soon..."
    At that very moment they heard horses outside on the street. They came out and saw Matthew and Daniel come in at a gallop. The young man waved at them and stopped his horse in front of the clinic. "Ma! Sully! Are you all right?"
    "We caught the aggressors, Matt," she answered. "You look shaken! What happened?"
    "We were shot at," Daniel answered curtly.
    "What? By whom?"
    Matthew dismounted and put his arm around her shoulders, smiling ironically. "By Jake, Teresa an' Hank."
    The guilty party was coming into town just then, husband and wife on their surrey and Hank on his horse.
    "You already started spreadin' slander around, Simon?" bellowed Hank.
    Daniel simply took off his hat and put a finger in the clean round hole in its crown.
    "It was an accident," explained Jake gruffly. "Can't expect any horsemen to be lawmen. We had to defend ourselves."
    Hank grinned wickedly. "Can't expect me to be relieved I missed you!"
    "Mr. Lawson," piped up Teresa, "I am afraid I fired that shot."
    Hank stared at her, astonished. "Really?" exclaimed Jake, looking at her with renewed admiration. The Quinn-Sully-Cooper family just looked long-sufferingly at each other. Soon Katie would wake up and start making enquiries...

The End