Mount Up with Wings, as Eagles…'' [ Three Tales of Two Cousins]

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength ; they shall mount up with wings as eagles they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk, and not faint"
KJV/Isaiah 40:31

Mount Up With Wings As Eagles Second Tale of Two Cousins Wagon Train Laramie crossover series by Rielle

a Laramie/Wagon Train Crossover Fic by Roniyah Gabrielle Caitrin Bhaer

Author's Note: This is where I could be saying : 'you asked for it.' Because I have been asked to write some Wagon Train and or Laramie fanfiction for the enjoyment [ I hope] of the RFFN list. But I won't say that, honestly.

I'd rather just say, please enjoy, please let me know what you think of this latest effort of mine,. But my sole intent is to offer you some enjoyable reading, along with some of my own ideas about the Laramie and Wagon Train characters. So, you actually SHOULD consider this story as existing in a PARALLEL UNIVERSE , an alternative one to the one presented by those two classic westerns, with some notable variations. And please excuse the liberties I've taken, my 'poetic license', as it were with events, dates, and even names in the lives of the well loved characters in this story. And I took some literary liberties with 'facts not in evidence' in the series as it aired, too; along the lines of things we didn't see or hear on-screen
But if I haven't made it clear enough, as yet, this story wouldn't have been written, without the friendships and fun and such I 'lucked onto' on the Robert Fuller Fandom list. And so because of that, I want and need to genuinely thank all my recently made friends there. I … was grateful just to find all y'all… and now that gratitude is, I hope, clearly shown in these pages ( Special thanks goes to Moira, Carol, Barb, Cat, Twins, and Elaine for their kind words, reading and encouragement. (
Oh, and in case you haven't guessed it, these 'tales' wouldn't exist in any form without the wondrous inspiration of the following amazingly gifted, and tremendously generous people: Barbara Stanwyck, John McIntire, Spring Byington, Hoagy Carmichael, Frank McGrath, Terry Wilson, Denny Miller, Michael Burns, Robert Fuller, and John Smith. My constant gratitude to them will hopefully be apparent in the following pages.

Disclaimer : None of the onscreen characters from Revue/Universal's 'Laramie' or 'Wagon Train' belong to me. And I'm prett nigh onta busted up about that, too. Instead they all
belong to the creative minds of John Champion and Howard Christie, and all the gifted
writers, directors, producers, and actors of those two classic, classy Westerns. Sigh. No copyright infringement or profit taking is intended by this work of fiction, so don't sue me please; the studio/company, etc attorneys have 'many, many things' better to do.

Roniyah Gabrielle Caitrin Bhaer Summer, 2007
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Cast of Characters -- Second Tale
[ As this is fanfiction, with the usual handful of new characters introduced to the kindly readers, I thought this listing might be helpful. Yes, I'm also an old movie nut :) Rielle ]

Onscreen Laramie characters:
John Smith as Matthias McGregor 'Slim' Sherman'.
Robert Fuller as Jacob Emrys Sayer Smith ' Jess' Harper
Dennis Holmes as Michael Timothy 'Mike' Williams.
Stuart Randall as Mort Corey
And
Spring Byington as Margaret 'Daisy' Cooper
off screen Laramie characters:
Hoagy Carmichael as 'Jonesy'
Robert Crawford, Jr. as Andrew Denholm, 'Andy' Sherman
With
Jacqueline Scott as Francine 'Francie' Harper Brady McKittrick
Onscreen Wagon Train characters:
John McIntire as Liam Christopher Hale
Robert Fuller as Nathaniel Kieran Anglim Cooper 'Coop' Smith'
Terry Wilson as Liam 'Bill' Hawks
Frank McGrath as Charles Albert 'Charlie' Wooster
Denny Miller as Christopher 'Duke' Shannon
Michael Burns as Barnaby James West.
And
Barbara Stanwyck as Kathleen Elizabeth 'Kate' Crawley.

Off screen Wagon Train characters:
Jack Easton, Jr. as Thomas Jefferson 'Jeff' Smith
And
Rhonda Fleming as Sandra Cummings

Invented, Created or Extrapolated Characters:
Onscreen characters
Starring:
John Spencer as Thomas Michael 'Mac' Macquillan
With
Martin Sheen as Ulysses Simpson Grant
And
Ross Martin as Adam Auriel Elisha Morgan
Robert Conrad as Jemison Stephen Wesleyan Randolph Singer, MD
William Shatner as Jacques Merlion Etienne D'eglisier MD
With
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Coop's, Jess, Jemmy's and Slim's family:

Ethel Barrymore as Constance Alexandra Singer
[Jemmy's paternal great aunt]
John Barrymore as Aidan Micheal Tierney Singer
[Jemmy's paternal grandfather]
Lionel Barrymore as Stephen Desmond Singer
[Jemmy's paternal great uncle]
Ingrid Bergman as Mirielle Anastaise Meraud Clement Harper
[Jess' paternal grandmother, Coop's great aunt]
Spring Byington as Celia Roisin Amalia Torrance Randolph
[Jemmy's maternal grandmother]
Harry Carey, Sr. as Andrew Dorrance Sherman [Slim's paternal grandfather]
Gary Cooper as Mathias McGregor Sherman, Sr. [Slim's father]
Delores Costello as Miranda Isabeau Clement Singer
[Jemmy's paternal grandmother]
Bette Davis as Leah Micaela Isibeal Randolph Smith
[Jacob Smith's wife, Coop's paternal grandmother]
Olivia de Havilland as Sarah Rebecca Naomi Smith Traherne
Kirk Douglas as Ceallach Niall Kieran Cooper
[Coop and Jess' maternal uncle ]

Henry Fonda as Francis Marion 'Frank' Harper [Jess' father]
Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. as Samuel Adams Harper
[Frank's brother, Jess' uncle]
Joan Fontaine, as Sian Rachel Morwenna Smith

Greer Garson as Aileen Rianna Cooper Randolph
[Coop's other maternal aunt]
Dorothy Gish as Imogen Alys Smith
Lillian Gish as Siobhan Cathleen Smith
Stewart Granger as Ethan Niall Randolph [Jemmy's maternal uncle]
Corinne Griffith as Meredydd Jennet Traherne Cooper
[Jess and Coop's maternal grandmother]

Susan Hayward as Tess [Theresa] Kathleen Margred Harper
[Jess' paternal aunt]

Helen Hayes as Angharad Aine 'Annie' Denholm Sherman
[Slim's mother]
Paul Henreid as Elias Alexander [Alexandre] Harper
[Jess' paternal grandfather, Coop's great uncle]
Katherine Hepburn as Elisabeth Micaela Cooper Smith [Coop's mother]
Leslie Howard as Jonathan David Traherne [Coop's uncle by marriage]
Walter Huston as Nathaniel Kieran Cooper, Rev.
[Coop and Jess' maternal grandfather]
Dean Jagger as Ian Pedr [John Peter] Smith
[Danny's brother, Coop's paternal uncle]
Kirk Douglas as Ceallach Niall Kieran Cooper
[Coop and Jess' maternal uncle ]
Deborah Kerr as Raissa Ysabel Terrwyn Traherne Randolph
Dame Vivien Leigh as Jessamyn Roisin Randolph Singer [Jemmy's mother]
James Mason as Stephen Jemison Singer [Jemmy's father]
Mary Miles Minter as Sorcha Rebecca McGregor Sherman
[Slim's paternal grandmother]

Thomas Mitchell as Kieran Donovan Randolph
[Jemmy's maternal grandfather]
Maureen O'Sullivan as Talitha Sianna Mered Harper [Jess' paternal aunt]
Gregory Peck as Doevid Andonn Traherne [Jemmy's brother in law]
Claude Rains as Jacob Emrys Sayre Smith
[Coop's paternal grandfather, Jess' paternal great uncle ]
Jean Simmons as Celia Deirdre Singer Traherne [Jemmy's older sister]
Barbara Stanwyck as Jennet Meredydd Cooper Harper [Jess' mother]
James Stewart as Daniel Webster Smith [Coop's father]

Norma Talmadge as Miriam Ruth Smith
Constance Talmadge as Naomi Elspeth Smith
Natalie Talmadge as Dorcas Tabitha Smith

Arthur Kennedy as Corin Micheal Liam Cooper
[ Jess and Coop's maternal uncle ]

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The bad guys: 'The Company' [first formed by Gen. Pascale, then led by Lee Henry, then by Solomon Howell.

[With some uncertain* and some outright undercover good guys*** mixed in for fun]

Salome Jens as Eugenie Isabelle Morrissey Pascale
Anthony Zerbe as Lee Henry Richard Morrissey 1
Anthony Perkins as Solomon Howell
David Jannsen as Phillips Napier Pascale, 'genie's' late husband2
Tim Matheson as Sean Oriel Liam Hoynes ***
Gary Dourdan as Phillip Johnston
Michael Ealy as Jamey Johnston
James Stacy as Ezekiel Adamson
Frank Langella as Palmerston Montagu
Vincent D'onofrio as Roberto Geronne
Matthew Ashford as Devlin 'Dev' Jackson3
Kamar de los Reyes as Teo Bracamante*** aka Tyler Pierce
David Fumero as Matthias Randolph *** aka Matthew Harkins
Jeff Branson as Edward 'Neddy2' Robert Denys Morrissey
Lee Henry's son
Bryan Dattilo as Jemison Randolph 'Rand' Alexander***
Robert Kelker Kelly as Brady Beauregard Alexander*4
Michael Easton as Kieran 'Kiery' Tanner***
Forbes March as Miller Nash*
Kyle Brandt as Chris Phillipsen ***
Cameron Matheson as Michael William Stewart*
Jeffrey Carlson as Edward 'Neddy1' Robert Denys Morrissey5
Eugenie and Lee Henry's deceased brother
Jean Paul Lavoisier as Jaimey Gordon
Bill Smith as Jordy Ashford
John Ireland as Adam Elisha Traherne
Patrick Swayze as Chance Stuart
Ron Perlman as Quincy Stuart6
Cameron Mitchell as Gordon Arthur 'Arty' West
Van Heflin as Morgan Aurelien 'Aury' West 7
Dana Andrews as Alexander 'Alec' Morgan
Alan Ladd as Jonathan David Morgan

David Marx as Torin Cinaed Kuenle8
Jensen Ackles as Desmond Piaras Kuenle8
Dan Wells as Liam Micheal Kuenle1
Kevin Todd Smith as Robby Kearney Torrance9
Jude Law as Ian Flannery Torrance12
Peter Brown as Padraic Keallach Hoynes13
Doug McClure as Devin Cleary Hoynes10
Gary Clarke as Sean Micheal Hoynes15
Rob Lowe as Julien Duval Clement11
Kurt McKinney as Jean Baptiste Clement12
Patrick Swayze as Charles Albert 'Chance' Stuart13
Ron Perlman as John Quincy Adams Stuart19
Antonio Banderas as Christophe Apollonaire Boudin20
Thaao Penglis as Giles Toussaint Boudin21
Stuart Whitman as Andre Honore Boudin14
Yul Brynner as Anatole Perrin Boudin15
Tommy Lee Jones as Addison Cooper Deveraux24
Patrick Duffy as Nolan Randolph Deveraux16
Harrison Ford as Joshua Zadkiel Whelan26
Brad Pitt as Nathan Remiel Whelan17
Jack Coleman as Adam Elijah North18
Gordon Thomson as Zachary Hosea North29
Clu Gulager as Jesse Broderic Howlys19
Lane Davies as Rhys Arawn Howlys20
Hugh Jackman as Eamon Meical Howlys32
Efrem Zimbalist, Jr as Beauregard Campion Hamilton33
Roark Critchlow as Brody Dareau Hamilton34
Eric Winter as Ethan Lucien Hamilton21
Travis Wood as Daniel James Randolph36
Clayton Rohner as Timothy Ross Tierney37
David Loren as Jonathan Corrin Munroe22
Ian Harrison as Henry Barret Madsen23
Jason Breznikar as Dariell Aurelien Ashton40
John Drew Barrymore as Neil Thomas Horton24
Justin Kahn as Gordon Arthur Davidson25
Kian O'Grady as Ceallach Niall Brennan43
Tyler Fawcett as James Charles Stewart44
Will Devry as Alain Eduard Morrison26
Zach Schillace as Ewan Deiniol Rhys46

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Second Tale of Two Cousins, part one of two

CHAPTER ONE Chris Hale's train outside Fort Kearny, Nebraska in the 1870s.

''Well of course I don't believe you, Charlie!'' Cooper Smith exclaimed, crinkling his blue eyes in a tired grin as wide as the Rio Grande, rubbing one hand through his dark, unruly hair in a gesture of disbelief.

''And just why don't you?'' Charlie demanded, crossing his arms across his chest, which only made him look all the more like a bantam rooster, a bantam rooster with a receding hairline and a salt and pepper beard on his jutting chin.

'' Just because it's just about the most dang foolish thing I think I've ever heard you say. In fact, Charlie, it's just plain crazy!'' Coop answered, still laughing, looking around to the others in Charlie's current 'audience', wondering why they weren't laughing with him.

'' Well, foolish or not, crazy or not, it's the plain, unvanished truth, Coop.'' Charlie insisted. ''And just because you weren't here at the time to hear what I did, doesn't make it any less true.''

'' Charlie, c'mon, now. I know you like to have your fun sometimes. I know you like to come up with one tall tale or another for the kids on the train, to pass the time. But I'm not one of those kids. And I don't think even the youngest of them would believe this one, anymore than I do. So, c'mon, give it up now, Charlie, you're making this up, aren't you?''

''But he can't, Coop. He's not, I mean.'' Barnaby West said, piping up with a serious tone to match the worried look on his face. Coop looked over at the youngster and saw Barney's wide grey eyes were wider than usual with that worry, and that Barney was trying hard not to bite at his lower lip. '' Charlie and me, we both heard Mr. Chris talkin' to Miss Kate. And we both heard them talking about when Mr. Chris would retire. And''

'' And we've all heard them havin' that conversation a few hundred times by now, Barney.'' Coop shook his head a gain, and turned to put one long hand reassuringly on each of the boy's thin shoulders. Barney's wide grey eyes held some melancholy and even a little dread. This youngster'd had found on the Hale train a home, and in it's crew, his family, when he had no place and no one else. And Chris Hale had become the orphaned boy's father in all but name, even to tutoring and disciplining Barney, when needful. [No wonder Charlie's latest gossip mixed in with some half made up, half eavesdropped on talk of Kate and Chris, has Barney looking like a whipped puppy, tonight.]

''And they'll have the same one a few hundred more times. But that only means Kate is havin' her fun, jibin' at Chris about takin it easy. So you see, Barney, if that's all you and Charlie heard, or eavesdropped on, it doesn't mean anything like what Charlie's sayin', not anything like that, at all. So, relax. This is just what I thought, Charlie blowin' up a whole range of molehills, to make some new mountains., as if the Rockies and Sierra's we've still got to cross weren't enough. ''

'' You just got back, Coop, so you can't really say that. In fact, you missed too much of the story to make that call, yet, Coop.'' Duke Shannon now advised, his wide blue eyes full of certainty in what he said, his broad shoulders set.

''Yeah, like what?'' Coop asked, turning to frown at the tall, blond, strapping younger scout. Duke looked at Barney like a little brother to look out for. They all did that. So it didn't make sense that Duke would be adding to Barney's worries.

'' Like the part where Bill and I heard another conversation Chris and Kate had the same exact day, on the same exact subject.

And we came away with the idea pretty clear that Chris is thinkin' long and hard; whether or not he'll take another train out, next spring. ''Duke answered, nodding his head for emphasis.

'' You and Bill… '' Coop tried not to, but couldn't help laughing aloud, this time. ''You nearly had me goin' there, boys. You nearly did.''

'' We're not trying to have you goin', Coop.'' Grey haired ramrod Bill Hawks finally said, looking up from his accounts and books. '' We heard what we heard. And we heard Chris
say he wants to retire, come fall. And why would he say that, if he didn't mean to carry it through, this time.''

''Mebbee because he says just that each time we get to this point on the trail?'' Coop asked. '' And you, and Charlie and Duke, and Barney, have all been working for Chris Hale longer than I have; so you know that's true. The train gets bogged down, one way or another. The fords get flooded early, or the creek beds are wheel hub deep in mud, if they're not. Or some of the stock gets run off by local braves countin' coup the easy way, or a dozen other things like that happen, and we're not making good time.
So Chris begins to get worn down, he gets plumb worn out; but he won't say so for all the cotton in Alabam'. And he gets real disheartened, especially when some four-eyed greenhorn with an armload of books, or some panicky bunch of womenfolk who've never been out of their hometown before now, starts in on how Chris does what he does, or decides what he decides! Who wouldn't?''

''So, we're back to square one, is that right, Coop? You don't believe any of us?'' Duke challenged Coop, with a lazy tone of voice and the way he had of leaning his long frame against the wagon behind him, that belied the serious glint in his wide blue eyes.

'' Now just hold on there, buddy. Don't get your Irish up with me.'' Coop shook his head, taking advantage of the way Duke tended to slouch, to look the younger, taller man in the eye. ''I believe all y'all heard Chris and Kate Crawley talking about Chris retirin'. What I don't believe for a second is when th' train is just coming up to Fort Kearny, is that Chris is setting
a decision like this in stone. That's not the way the man operates. And like I said, all of you should really know that better than I do, by this time, you really should. ''

'' Hey, yeah, I think Coop's likely right about this.'' Barney said, looking around the group, with something more like his normal, crooked grin.

'' Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Barney.'' Coop nodded, returning the grin.

''Sure, Coop. Duke, Charlie, Bill, don't you think Coop's likely right?'' Barney asked the rest of his big brothers and mentors here, not to mention his very own, irascible, salt and pepper bearded 'mother hen'.
'' I suppose Coop could be right, just this once, just to keep us guessing.'' Bill allowed, with a similar, tired smile.

'' Just to keep you guessing is exactly right.'' Coop agreed, more pleased and more concerned with Barney's returning grin than he was with Bill's wry humor. ''And I'll tell you exactly how I know I'm right, this time. Chris gets real low in his mind whenever somebody on the train gets hurt, or G-d forbid, killed along the way. And that's what's got Chris talkin' retirin' this time. I know it, and all four of you know, too.
It hit us all hard when Missus Burke lost her little grandson, and nearly lost her daughter, Lissa, in that accident, just before I rode out. And there was nothin' any of us could do; nothin' we didn't try, to help them, was there? And Chris worked himself to a nub, tryin' harder than anyone else. And he took it damn hard. And that's what he always does and always will do. So what you fellows think has changed out of a blue sky, I can't begin to figure.''

'' I dunno, Charlie, d'you suppose we can go along with Bill and Barney, that Coop could be right, just this one time?'' Duke asked the cook, his own sense of humor restored, his wide blue eyes alight with fun.

'' Anythin's implausible, is what I've always heard.'' Charlie grumbled, and followed that by a loud harrumph, with which he turned his back on the entire group.

Coop couldn't help laughing aloud again at that. '''You know, the lot of you are the gloomiest bunch of Yankees I've ever run into, don't you?''

'' And just how many of us 'Yankees have you 'run into' exactly, Johnny Reb?'' Bill laughed, sounding and looking more like his normal, ever-skeptical self, again.

'' Oh, only a few tens of thousands, here and there, Billy Yank.'' Coop laughed. ''Funny thing, though, they never seemed to stick around when my First Texans came onto the field, against them.''

''Hmmph!'' Charlie frowned, turning back again, half grinning as he seemed to hear a new challenge. ''Your First Texans? That 'ol Ragged First' was your very own reg'ment then? I don't recall anybody callin' you 'Colonel Smith' anytime I ever heard of.''

''Details, details, Charlie. Coop and his regiment were likely too busy chasin' us Yankees around Virginia, Georgia and Tennessee to stop and get himself a formal promotion, I guess'' Duke laughed warmly, enjoying their usual, more comfortable banter.

'' And they ran right out of enough brass to make him that pair of full bird Colonel's … umm… birds Coop should've got, I guess.'' Barney nodded, happily joining in.

'' You've got that figured exactly right, Barney.'' Coop agreed, wondering what his old colonels Wigfall and Rainey, would think of this 'game'. ''That danged Yankee blockade plumb cheated me out of a pair of pretty, gold colored brass eagles!''

''And we're real, real sorry about that, Colonel Smith, sir!'' Charlie cracked wise, finally entering the fun of their exchange. ''Look out, fellas, here comes Mr. Chris!'' the cook then stage-whispered.

'' Maybe they're sorry. I'm not.'' Chris Hale announced, ignoring Charlie's whispering, walking up to join his friends. ''You only got back just now, did you, 'Colonel'?''

'' Hey, Chris, what's been going on here, while I was working? These fellows needed a good talkin' to, which I was glad to oblige them with.'' Coop turned with a wide grin and a bright eyed wink, to greet the Wagonmaster.

'' Oh they did, and you were, eh?'' Hale asked, shaking his head.
'' That's so, Mr. Chris. Coop was just getting us straightened out about some crazy thing Charlie told me.'' Barney offered, brightening now. Chris looked to be in a fine sort of mood, tonight.

'' Barney!'' Charlie protested, throwing his arms up in what looked like either despair or surrender.

'' And just what crazy thing was that?'' Chris asked, with a world-and-Charlie-Wooster weary sigh.

'' Mr. Chris, it was nothin', nothin' that matters a bit. It was just absotively nothin.'' Charlie now insisted, nodding his head emphatically.

' But I don't think so, Charlie, not according to what our 'Colonel Smith' was just sayin'.
So just what were you telling Barnaby that Coop had to straighten all of you out about?''

'' Chris, Charlie's right for once, it was nothin' at all.'' Duke offered, adding a vigorous nod.

''And Duke's right, for once, Chris. '' Bill agreed, with a quicker nod of his grey head. '' it was just a lot of nothin'.''

'' No, no, I don't think so. Please, enlighten me.'' Chris said, and it wasn't a request.

''Well, Chris, these fellows had you all done with leadin' wagon trains. In fact, they practically had you retired good and proper, smokin' your pipe, and fishin' all day, from some rockin' chair on some back porch between here and California!'' Coop answered, biting back his own grin, for now. The Wagonmaster's face was not giving so much as a hint of his native dry humor. Nor did his voice when he spoke again.

'' That doesn't sound so bad to me, just lately.'' Hale said, almost dropping the last two words below even Coop's sharp hearing, with a trademark taut half-grin on his weathered features.

'' Well, mebbee not just lately. But c'mon, Chris. We all know you're not the retirin' type,
not a bit.'' Coop argued, studying the older man's face for any sign he should be worried the way Barney had been. There was no such sign, one way or the other. The Wagonmaster instead was studying all five of his friends, his face impassive now.

'' Well, if by that you mean I've never been what you might call shy,'' Hale finally quipped. '' I'd have to agree. But that's not what I want to talk about right now. With all of you.''

Now a worried look winged its way around the circle of Hale's crew. They all knew Hale's stern tone and single-minded expression too well by this time. to do anything but chorus. ''Yes, sir.''

''Fine. Now, for reasons known only to you and G-d, from what Coop just said, the rest of
you not only think it's possible I might retire. You've already got me safely tucked away in retirement somewhere. You've already got me more or less permanently 'gone fishin'.'' Hale frowned.
''Only problem with that is, I haven't so much as mentioned the idea, not even the least scintilla of such an idea to any of you .And that might be because I know you'd have
the same reaction as our ''brevet-Colonel'' Smith, here, you'd tell me with just about the same certainty he has that I'm not going to retire, not ever, certain sure. And we'd all waste the rest of the day, if not the week, if not the rest of this trip arguing just that point. So I haven't discussed the idea of my retiring with you.
And that being the case, I can't help wondering what would put that particular idea into your heads. In fact, I can't help wondering which one, if not all of you have been eavesdropping on what I thought were mine and Katie's private conversations.'' Chris frowned, one salt and pepper eyebrow flying up his forehead in apparent consternation.

''Now, now, Mr. Chris, that's not what happened at all.'' Charlie insisted, shaking his head vigorously and looking, Coop thought, more and more worried.

'' Nope, it's not, Mr. Chris.'' Barney chipped in. But he kept looking away from the wagon master's clear, discerning gaze, his own grin growing nervous.

'' We wouldn't ever do that, Chris.'' Duke agreed, his blue eyes almost as wide as Barney's grey ones, now.

'' No, of course not.'' Bill nodded, with every appearance of nonchalance. ''Why would we?''

'' Don't look at me, Chris, I was up the trail almost all the way to Bridger, myself.'' Coop grinned, with his best wide-blue-sky innocent look.''

'' Yes, so you were. And when Coop got back, for reasons known only to G-d, the five of you gentlemen, out of a blue sky, just started to talk about whether or not I'm going to retire. Is that what happened, or is that what you want me to believe?'' Hale asked, frowning as darkly as he could manage at them.

''No, sir! Yes, sir! … Yes, sir! No, sir! '' they answered, so confusedly that Chris began to grin and then to chuckle, shaking his head. But just when his team was about to join in laughing, the Wagonmaster turned his blazing desert sky blue gaze on them and shouted:

'' Well, whichever it is, you can stop your eavesdropping, your theorizing, your speculating
and your gossiping like a flock of old New England biddy hens and listen to me! If I decide to retire after this trip or to make another, and another and yet another, until I finally drop dead somewhere between St. Joseph and Sacramento; that's my decision to make and that's my business to keep.
I've been making my own decisions since I was just about Barney's age. And I've been able to keep my own business to myself for quite a long while, too; that is until I ran into the lot of you busybodies! So let me finish setting you straight, shall I gentlemen? That's right, keep quiet! Because it wouldn't serve any of you very well right now, to interrupt me not even to answer my rhetorical questions. Good, now listen up! The only interest any of you gentlemen need have in my decisions and my business is if and when you need to find yourselves new jobs. Period! Now, is that sufficiently clear?''

'' Sure, Chris.'' Coop nodded, hiding a grin behind one gloved hand.

'' Yeah, Chris.'' Duke agreed nodding vigorously again.

'' Oh, it's clear as day, Mr. Chris.'' Charlie added, watching Chris intently for any further signs of righteous New England-Irish wrath.

'' Clear.'' Bill answered, carefully molding his own features to their most serious cast.

'' Guess it's clear, Mr Chris.'' Barney admitted, wondering what had brought that particularly Haleian thunderstorm on.

'' Barney, you don't sound very convincing, or convinced to me.'' Chris noted, shaking his head, his 'thunderstorm' gone as quickly as it came. ''And I'm sorry for shouting at you that way, son. You don't deserve it.''

'' Guess I do, Mr. Chris. Guess I did kinda, y'know, listen to Miss Kate and you, I was tryin' to hit the hay and I couldn't quite seem to.'' Barney shrugged, hoping his owning up would further placate his surrogate father.

''Barney's not to blame, not a bit, Mr Chris!'' Charlie protested. ''He just couldn't quite settle
in th' other night. So, I was tryin to find out if somebody near the cook wagon had any milk for him. And I just happened, as it was, to walk past where you and Miss Katie were talkin'…''

I see.'' Hale nodded. '' And you and Duke were helping Charlie look for milk, too?'' the Wagonmaster asked his ramrod.

'' No, sir. No… we … Duke and I were settling the question of the first watch, seein' as Coop wasn't back, yet.'' Bill answered glumly. He knew Hale wasn't 'buying' their jumbled, jumped together stories.

'' And we were talking about the watch, Chris and it was … Well, it seems like we must have stopped for a second, just a second or two, nearer your wagon than we thought.'' Duke offered, eagerly.

'' So the four of you, on two different occassions, just happened to overhear Katie and myself talking about what I may or may not do when this trip is done, purely by accident?'' Hale asked.

'' Yes, sir!'' the four of them heartily agreed.

''Coop, do you believe these fellows?'' Chris asked his head scout, one greying eyebrow winging upwards.

Coop opened his mouth and shut it and finally shrugged. ''I think it's as likely a story as any, Chris.''

'' Oh, thanks, Coop!'' Duke groaned, rolling his eyes.

'' Don't mention it.'' Coop grinned, wide as the Braxos.

'' I won't!'' Duke tried to glare back but couldn't.

'' Well, with that settled, and when you've finished your supper, may I suppose you have a moment or two free, ''Colonel'' , to let me know what you found, between here and 'almost all the way to Bridger'?''

'' Sure, Chris.'' Coop agreed, glad to see some of Hale's wry humor restored.

'' Over at my wagon, in a little while, then.'' Hale nodded. '' And maybe the rest of you gentlemen can find something to keep yourselves occupied, that doesn't have to do with my future plans?"

'' Yes, sir!'' the four eavesdroppers chorused again, and scattered to the four winds, while Coop went back to looking for anything the other four of Hale's crew might have left him that resembled supper.
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CHAPTER TWO

Chris Hale went to look for the remains of his own supper, interrupted when Kate Crawley strolled by to say she heard Coop was back. Now Kate was sitting by Hale's small watch-fire, kept only to warm a pot of coffee, or an old Wagonmaster's bones, in the higher reaches of the mountains they'd yet to cross this year. And that particular old Wagonmaster had to admit to himself, if not to Kate or his crew, that he was always glad to find his long time friend waiting there, looking as comfortably at home as if …
[No, no, best set that the rest of that notion aside, old man.] Hale thought to himself
[Neither Katie, nor the rest of your friends are in any state of mind for you to go visiting that old wished for whim.] ''Hullo, Katie mauvoreen.'' Chris heard himself saying to her, despite that inner voice of caution.

''Well, hullo, Liam Christopher.'' She answered, her crystal blue eyes sparkling with love and humor both. ''You still look tired out, mauvoreen, old darling. And where's Coop? Didn't he have a report to give you about the trail from here to South Pass?''

''Oh, I'm sure he does. I left him to find himself something on the order of supper before he falls asleep on his feet. If Coop had any news that couldn't wait, it would have been the first thing he said to me, instead, of ''Hey, Chris, what's been going on here, while I was working?'' Hale told her, adding to the last part a fair rendition of his head scout's more than half broken east Texas drawl.

Kate sighed, and wrapped her arms around her old friend's neck and embraced him warmly, laughing at his rarely divulged gift for impersonation. Pulling back after a moment she studied Hale's weathered map of Ireland features and said something she'd been meaning to for some little while. '' You know, Chris, you two are still quite the mystery to me.''
'' We're a mystery, Katie? Coop and myself? Why?'' Hale asked, looking bemused, and she considered, and trying to look all innocence at the same time.

'' Well, I suppose it's just that I've so rarely seen two men as different as you and Coop appear to be, who get on as well as you generally do.'' Kate told him, watching to see how Chris picked up on her topic.

'' We manage.'' Chris said, still close to impersonating his head scout in voice and manner. He gave the freight-boss a quick glance to see if he could tell where she was going with this. [ Are you just exercising your native curiosity, Katie mauvoreen, or are you driving at something? Either way, I'm not driving in that direction. Not if I can help it! ]

'' You manage?'' Kate echoed, her eyes wide, silver eyebrows flying upwards.

'' Yes, Katie, old friend. we manage. '' Hale repeated, trying to keep his answer succinct and to the point, not sure she'd let him get away with as little as that.

'' And when the two of you spend half the day or half the night wrangling and shouting and losing both your Irish tempers over some point or other, what do you call that, Chris, old friend?'' Kate prodded, shaking her head. He wasn't going to get away with his favorite curt and curtailed New England style answers. Not with her, not tonight. She was on a tear and would get her answers.

''Oh, that's what I call Coop and myself managing.'' Chris answered, turning to study her face again, wondering what would shake her off this particular 'train of thought. '' We don't always agree on one point or another. Nobody does, not all the time. So, Coop and I get our Irish up and have a fine row, and a good, loud shouting match now and then.''

''And how does that end up working out for you, as a rule?'' Kate demanded, folding her arms across her chest and taking her most determined stance, knowing Chris would read it with absolute accuracy.

'' So far, so good.'' Chris shrugged. '' You haven't heard any gunfire or seen any blood being shed between us, have you, Katie? So, what's your point here? Why do you find it, or us to be any kind of mystery? I know any number of men who maintain their friendships with a modicum of earnest disagreements. Bill and Charlie are an even better example. They can go at each other as if they were fighting on opposite sides in a war, sometimes. But the truth is Charlie would carry Bill through a cannon barrage if need be, to save his friend's life. And Bill would do the same. They're like brothers, in fact, I'm sure they'd say they are brothers, after all they've been through together.''

''So you look at Coop as a younger brother, all right. And you're telling me he looks at you as the older brother he never had. I see.'' Kate answered, finding his answer didn't satisfy at all.

There was more to this, she was certain, if only because Chris was so eager to make less of it. She knew he was holding some part of this 'mystery' back. In fact, knowing Chris as she did, Kate was certain sure he'd been keeping this to himself for quite some time. Folding her arms and giving him a taut, impatient smile,
Kate went on in a lighter tone, thinking maybe she could make a feint at his left flank and get around his reluctant front, that way. '' You know, Chris, if that 'managing' is something you and Cooper do on a regular basis, you really should let people know when it's likely to happen, next. Then they would be able to move their wagons further down the line, and maybe get some sleep, or at least, cover their ears beforehand. The two of you can just about shout the house down.''

'' Not as long as we're out of doors.'' The Wagonmaster grinned tiredly and then more widely as he found he'd remembered to leave his small Dutch oven, with this afternoon's dinner still in it, next to, but not on the fire. ''Katie, you and I argue, don't we?'' Chris asked, hoping he wasn't making a prediction.
''Well, of course we do. You make me absolutely furious, sometimes, Chris Hale!'' Kate nodded.

''And if, as it seems, I've somehow managed to do that again, tonight, I very deeply apologize, Miss Crawley, ma'am.''

'' Well, I'm not furious, yet. But I accept, anyway. Only because I can see you're not giving me any more answers, just now. And you're not, are you, Chris?'' Kate demanded, trying and failing to glower at the Wagonmaster. He was the best friend she'd ever had and a great deal more to her. And part of that 'more' was very much tied up in the way Chris was delighted to see her, everytime they met again, whether they'd been apart hours, months or years. And part was made up of the way he insistently called her 'Katie' as if she were a wayward, hoydenish girl again. And then there was the way Chris would look at her, without saying a word for the longest time, and then fold her in his arms with only a whispered, tenderly melancholy, 'Katie, mauvoreen.'
Other parts were things she would never admit liking, much less loving about this world weary old New Englander-Irishman. There was the way she could not budge Chris Hale once he took a stand, or a stance. And that was all wrapped up in the way he could out-stubborn the oldest, orneriest Army mule team she'd ever prodded up a mountain, when it mattered. Because, Kate considered, the best part of his stubbornness always concerned his friends and the family he'd fashioned with them, in the years since his own was lost. The Wagonmaster's bedrock-adamant loyalty was a by-word on this Trail, in fact, everywhere he'd ever been. It shone like a lighthouse's beacon from his native New England coast, to keep those he cared for from losing their way home, to that self-made family, ever again.

'' Always glad to know you're paying attention, Katie.'' Hale non-answered her, without looking up, He knew she was less than pleased with his answers. He knew she'd try again, and again, until he capitulated.

''Always. And I'm to assume if your managing with Coop, if any of it had anything to do with me, I'd hear about it. Is that right?'' she asked, frowning at the idea.

'' Absolutely.'' Chris nodded, wondering if he'd finally gotten her off the subject.

'' You do know that I met Coop, when he was on the way to join your outfit, don't you?''

'' I think that came up in one conversation or another, yes.'' Hale answered, his hope of changing subjects flown.

'' Well, if I didn't tell you that whole story, sit back, eat your left over dinner and let me do that now. Coop was really something to see, and to listen to at that time. He was really full of himself, in a way. Oh, and he was full of bravado, too. He put up a fine show of confidence.
And yet he wasn't really sure, it seemed, why you picked him for head scout. He certainly seemed aware that you already had Duke signed on, as well as Bill, both of them more than qualified for the job Flint McCullough discarded.'' Kate said, and grinned as she straddled the bench next to Hale's watch-fire.

''Did Coop ask you what you thought were my reasons, Katie?'' Chris asked, studiously paying attention to his meal, rather than looking over at her.

'' I'm pretty sure he came close to asking. In fact, I'm sure he wanted to ask someone who knew you, just that question. And he wasn't about to ask you, of course, not when you'd shown such confidence in him, a man you'd never met in person at that time. I suppose he may have asked you since then, why you'd look up a stranger, and give him a job you had two good men already at hand for. I know in Coop's place, I surely would have asked you by now; why you'd hire on a head scout you only knew by reputation.''

''Well, Katie, there's the answer to your question, right there, in a nutshell.'' Hale nodded, looking up from his meal. '' Coop had, by the time I found I needed a head scout that year, made himself a reputation as one of the best scouts along the California Trail. And he practically taught himself how. And he learned the Trail virtually by heart, I should say, adding a lot onto the hunting and tracking skills he likely picked up as a youngster. Since that time, even though, no, Coop's never asked me, it's obvious to everyone that he's only built on that grounding. Its obvious Coop's become one of the best scouts on the California Trail, or just about any other. And no, I won't say that to his face. He'd only start plaguing me about a raise, starting next spring, if not right now!''

'' He probably would, at that. I wonder what Coop' d take to come ramrod my outfit?'' Kate laughed, knowing Hale wouldn't take her seriously, thinking how proud Chris sounded of Coop's accomplishments.

'' You're not going to make me that kind of trouble, are you, Katie mauvoreen?'' Chris asked, half joking and half pleading with her, now.

'' I wouldn't dream of making you that kind of trouble, Liam Christopher, mauvoreen.'' Kate grinned, and winked at him. ''Not if you've got some of that Irish coffee in that pot next to your watch fire for me, that is.''

'' I don't, Katie. And that I deeply, deeply regret.'' Chris sighed. '' But that head scout of mine, the one you're asking all these questions about, is coming over in a short while to tell me what he found on the trail between here and Bridger.''

''Well, you said yourself if there had been anything urgent, Coop would've already told you.'' Kate protested. ''So surely anything else can wait, now can't it?''

'' And should I send word back across the camp, for all the gossips including Charlie Wooster to get wind of, that the Wagonmaster has … an assignation?'' Chris asked, not even looking her way, and still feeling his neck and face get warm.

'' I love the way you say that sort of word! You get all sweet and shy, like a young beau, all
of a sudden! '' Kate teased him. ''But, no. No, you shouldn't. Charlie and I are only lately beginning to mend our fences. He still doesn't like me staying inside the circle-up. I'll say good night, when Coop come over and then go on about my own business.''

'' Katie, one thing I know you and I have talked about, as regards my head scout: Coop's not much for confidences. In fact, I'd add that it's fair to say he won't answer a lot of questions about himself. I suppose you'd say that's one of the ways we're different, Coop and I.'' Chris told her, frowning again.
'' No, I'd say it's one of the ways you two are very much alike. It took me years to get any sort of decent answers out of your obstinate hide, Chris Hale. And there's really only one question I'd like to ask Coop, but on your advice, I suppose I won't. Still I'd love to know, when it comes to all that 'managing' you were describing; when he can get that angry with you, why does he stay on here?''

'' I daresay it's not Charlie's cooking.'' Chris laughed. ''And I daresay Coop wouldn't give you much more of an answer than that. He's rather a private person, Katie. And surely, you'll admit he's got as much right as anyone to be so.''

'' I'll admit it, surely. But you and I are going to have the rest of this conversation, and in the not too distant future, my friend.'' Kate told him, her bright, clear eyes showing her brilliant mind's busy workings. ''Because why Coop stays on is only half of the equation, isn't it? The other half is why, especially when you get into these shouting matches, do you keep a man on who seems so well able to kick that temper of yours into high gear? So what is going on here, Chris Hale, that I don't know about?'' she asked, again.

'' Katie, I seriously doubt there's much, if anything that you don't know about me, after all this time. So, you already do know that sometimes I can enjoy a good shouting match. It gets my blood running at a decent pace again; just when I begin to worry I might be turning into an old man. And you already know that it's like pulling teeth to get most folks on this train to so much as gainsay me, don't' you ? Bill won't, it's just not his temperament. Duke won't, he's said as much. Unless someone or something really provokes him; he just won't argue with someone he respects. And then there's Barnaby, who is growing the ability to argue with me and the others. But he's almost as chary of it as Duke, and clearly wants to be as even tempered as Bill.
That leaves my passengers, who only argue with me when they're absolutely scared to death. You can understand I'd prefer they not find themselves in just that frame of mind. And that leaves only Coop or Charlie to argue with me. And Charlie argues with everybody, so that hardly counts, now does it? So that leaves Coop, and we manage to have a fine argument from time to time without any broken bones or wrecked egos to show for it afterwards. Does that settle the matter for you, Katie?'' Chris asked, pouring all the reason and calm he could into his tone.

''Maybe it does. I'll think about it. I'll take it under advisement. And of course you're right about Bill and Duke and the boy. But there's still a gaping hole in your 'argument' Counselor. '' Kate shook her head. '' Charlie Wooster is a tough old bird, to be sure. He's indisputably a survivor. And he's survived this long by knowing better than to ever seriously argue with the man in charge, whether that be his old friend Seth Adams, or his new friend, Chris Hale.
You kept Charlie on, when he knows as well as I do, anyone else would have turned him out
to starve, after 'the Major' died. So Charlie fusses over you like a mother hen, the same way he does over Barnaby; and over anyone else who'll let him. Charlie and Barnaby have this in common: they both think you could probably walk on water, if you took half a mind to. In other words, Charlie Wooster reveres and loves you, old friend, which is very likely the reason he can hardly abide me, still. But Charlie doesn't raise any sort of important argument with you, Chris. And he never will.
So, yes, we're back to Coop, who has just as quick an Irish temper as you, and almost nothing more in common, with you, or Duke or Bill or Charlie. And yet you not only hired him on, you hired him over Duke as head scout. You brought Coop on, and despite the fact that as time goes on these shouting matches you and he have aren't so good for you, you keep him on. Honestly, Chris, if I were you, I wouldn't put up with the high-handed way Coop deals with you, a lot of the time.And I surely wouldn't call night-long shouting matches 'managing' anything. And there's a good reason for everything you do, Chris Hale. And you're going to tell me what the reason is in this case, or I'll know the reason why!''

''Charlie's really not such a bad cook that he'd starve, Katie.'' Chris tried dodging again with his words, while he walked closer to her with each word. '' And, as for your being me, I thank G-d on a daily basis that you're no such thing. And being you're you, Katie, I'd have to guess there's no way you'll settle for 'I have my own reasons.', is there?''
'' Nope.'' Kate almost laughed at his fruitless efforts to avoid and distract her both at once.

'' Then 'it's nothing to do with you or our business relationship, or our friendship, Katie,' won't do the trick for me, either, I suppose?'' Chris guessed, looking down into the crystal blue eyes of his determined, and much loved friend.

'' Not even close. You should really be giving up and giving in by now, my friend.'' Kate grinned. She was going to win this skirmish, hands down.

'' And Coop thinks I'm an old New England bulldog as far as being stubborn! Clearly the two of you haven't yet had enough 'managing' meetings.'' Chris rolled his eyes heavenwards and sighed, before he brought his bright gaze back to hers. ''Katie, there is an answer, and a good one. But I still have a train to get moving in the morning, however slowly and painfully. So, you're going to have to put your unshakable curiosity on hold, and probably for most of the next few days, anyway, if you don't mind.''

'' For the next few days? No, that won't do.'' Kate shook her silver head and smiled at him
in her most challenging fashion. He was still trying to dodge her questions. And she was more and more convinced that was a bad idea.

''May I have your leave to ask why, Kathleen Elisabeth, mauvoreen?'' Chris asked a bit more sharply than he'd intended, because he wasn't sure he wanted her answer.

''Because, Liam Christopher, mauvoreen, whatever this 'good answer' may be, it has you looking like a prairie sky full of thunderclouds, just thinking about it. It's troubling you, Chris, and deeply so. And so, I don't think this is something that only came up because I'm naturally curious. No, old friend, this is something that's been troubling you for quite some time. This is something you've not told anyone, which only adds to your troubles, since it's just not in your nature to hold things back. '' Kate answered, ignoring his sarcasm, except as another symptom of how badly troubled Chris was.

''My job calls for doing just that, from time to time.'' Chris answered, recalling more than one instance when he'd had to tread a very solitary, very fine line, with his passengers and his crew, to keep them all alive. ''And you know that, because we've talked about those times, you and I, but afterwards.''

''Yes, yes we did, and on at least one of those occasions I got to hear all about the fact that there almost wasn't any afterwards for you, Chris! Now, are you hinting to me that this is one of those times when you feel obliged to risk your life for the sake of another secret? Because if so, you may as well know right this minute now; I won't tolerate my best friend in the world, putting his life on the line again, that way!''

''No, no, it's nothing like that. I know there's a drought starting up on the high plains and we're going to have to deal with that, when we get further ahead on the trail. But no, Katie, there's nothing remotely resembling that situation involved here. The risk involved now is to a good friend's considerable pride. And, I'm just selfish enough to say, there's the chance I'll wreck that friendship, and pretty well mangle that pride. Surely, you can understand my reluctance to do that?''

'' I do. And I know you're not going to be free of those storm clouds around your head
until you've talked about whatever put them there in the first place. And I know you're about as eager to do that talking as I am to jump the moon. And that tells me, loud and clear, my friend that you need to talk this out, and badly.'' Kate insisted.

'' Read me like a book, do you?'' Hale sighed.

'' Like an open book.'' Kate agreed, still grinning.

'' Then I shouldn't need to tell you anything, should I?'' her best friend suggested.
'' I didn't say you needed to tell me whatever this is. I said you needed to talk about it; get it out of your gut and into the open air, to breathe some life into it, some clarity it can't possibly have while it's chewing away in your gut like that Spartan lad's stolen fox-whelp.'' His best friend went on insisting.

'' That sounds about right. And it's only going to get worse before there's the least chance of it getting better.'' Hale shook his head, wondering how bad that 'worse' was going to be.

'' So, it's Coop you need to talk to; about how it was he started scouting for you?'' Kate guessed.

''Yep.'' Chris rolled his eyes. She really could see clear through him.

''And Coop doesn't know anything about this 'answer' of yours? '' Kate went on guessing.

'' He's never given the least sign or signal, if he does. And the man's just as forthright as you, yourself are, Katie. And there's the core of the problem in a nutshell! I haven't been honest with a man I'm proud to call one of my best friends these days, I haven't been as forthcoming with Coop, as I am with Barney! And all this aside, Katie, I've got a wagon train to run!'' Hale exclaimed, spreading his hands in a gesture almost of surrender.

'' That you do! And I have a freight business to run. But right now, I'm taking time from that business to be some help to a couple of my friends, one old, one new. Because that's how I think a friend should act, whether my friends agree or not.'' Kate argued, grasping Chris hands, doing her best to show she understood, now.

''And there, Katie, is the crux of the problem, exactly there. The trouble is what one person does, what I've done, meaning only to help, only to befriend, Coop won't and likely can't see that way at all.'' Hale sighed, not pulling away, needing her grasp, needing her to keep pushing, keep prodding till he'd got this all said.

''He'll see it as barging in, you mean?'' Kate asked, sighing herself over the dilemma.

''Yes! And he'll see it as giving help where none was asked for. And I can understand that perspective perfectly well, Katie. I had much the same one, at his age. People do things to help a young man, sometimes, just because they see his promise, they see the makings of
the man he'll grow into, as surely as night grows into day. And then, at other times, people
do things for a young man, in part, because they know his potential, because they know how strong a grounding he already has. And the latter was the case with me, knowing about Coop. And Katie, I can hear Coop, now, telling me in no uncertain terms what I can do with what has to seem to him to be outright charity!'' Chris told her.

''Well, it has to seem threatening, if not outright deadly to a young man's pride.'' Kate went on. '' That someone would help them; get them started, because of some close, but hidden past ties.''

''Oh, it doesn't seem that way at all, Katie. It is an outright attack on his pride, his self-reliance, his capabilities, his autonomy; the whole nine yards.'' Hale shook his head, looking away from her bright, earnest, lovely face, to ponder a scenario he'd eluded for something over five years, now.

''Chris, I know you, inside and out. So I know you're telling me the truth now. You never meant hiring Coop on to be anything but a hand up. You certainly never meant him, or his hot-headed pride the least harm!'' Kate insisted, reaching for his handsome, weather-beaten face and turning his wide blue gaze back to meet hers, again.

'' Try telling Coop that!'' Chris shouted, angry with himself.

'' Since you ask so nicely, I will.'' Kate smiled up at him.

'' Sorry, Katie. Well, you've got the gist of it now. But, Coop is my scout and my friend and
so this … revelation I'm going to give him is definitely my job to do, not yours.'' Chris now insisted, wondering, not for the first time how she put up with his Irish temper.

'' Well, that's only one third correct, actually. Chris, Coop is your head scout, certainly, at least until I lure him away from your employment. But he's my friend, too. And on top of all that, I have the distinct feeling that when you finally have this discussion with Coop, you're both going to need me there, if only as a referee.'' Kate chuckled.

'' You're saying that, when you don't know the full extent of the boondoggle I suddenly find myself in, thanks to your obstinate curiosity.'' The Wagonmaster said, shaking his head and claiming his responsibility.

'' Well, yes, yes, I am. But don't worry. You've certainly given me a general idea. And you promised to tell all, come suppertime tomorrow. Also, I'm awfully good at being a referee, Chris. I'm the best negotiator, in fact, west of the Mississippi, when I happen to be west of
the Mississippi, as I am now. So, I'll see you for supper and we'll get the rest of this sorted
out before we talk to Coop.'' The freight-boss answered, not letting him take the whole of it back onto his broad shoulders, not for an instant. ''And what's the matter now, old friend?'' she asked, when Chris' broad shoulders slumped and his thundercloud expression returned.

''Oh, nothing, really, old friend. I've only got to talk to my head scout about the trail ahead, and then make sure he and I both catch a good hour to half an hour's sleep, and then get this whole train back on the trail. And then, I have to sit my friend, Coop Smith down and tell him, after more than five years working together, what influenced me, I suppose is the best way
to put it, to hire him on. And Katie, whatever he does, however Coop reacts, the same exact questions still obtain: What the devil kind of friend does all this make me? And just how blasted selfish does that last question make me sound, even to you?'' Chris asked her, shaking his head at the prospect of that 'sitting Coop down.'

'' Not at all, not selfish at all, Chris. You sound like a man on the horns of a genuine dilemma, Chris. But it's not one that can't be resolved. But, since we're talking about honesty, Chris.
I don't see how I can help very much, without your telling me what it is you haven't told our friend Coop.'' Kate insisted, reaching up for Chris' weathered, handsome face, to bring his gaze back to her own. Chris' wide blue eyes were so saddened, now that Kate knew she'd brought up some memory that still anguished him. And as long as that was the case, as long as that memory was hurting her best friend in the world; she wasn't about to stop asking
him to at least divide the hurt with her. He'd do, and he had done no less for her, more than once, in their long acquaintance.

'' Oh really? Fine, what do you 'see'?'' Chris asked, looking at his best friend in the world, feeling as if she could read his every thought, wishing he could allow anyone but himself the task at hand.

'' A man who's wearing himself down with worry, about something he knows he finally has to do. A man who's chewing on something that's tougher than the leather in my crop and harder for him to put into words than 'I love you.' But we got you past that hurdle, Chris; we can surely get you past this one.'' Kate answered, letting her own tone lighten a bit, as she reminded him of some of their past troubles.

'' Katie this isn't anything you need to come in on.'' Chris argued, trying to take back his serious, wholly responsible tone and manner.

'' I disagree.'' Kate maintained, just as seriously.

'' Of course you do. '' the Wagonmaster almost laughed, now. She wouldn't be Kate Crawley
if she gave in now, after giving him nearly an hour's 'talking to'.

''And now you're going to stop interrupting me, Chris Hale, so that I can tell you why.'' Kate demanded, raising one silver eyebrow.

'' Why you disagree with me? Because that's just your nature, Katie Crawley'' Hale couldn't help but chuckle, until he noticed her expression grow serious.

'' Are you going to stand there and cast idle insults, or are you going to listen, now?'' Kate demanded.

''Katie…'' Chris began and then seeing her determination, stopped.

''That's better.'' Kate grinned and went on. Now, you said your reason for taking Coop on was your knowing his potential, his grounding. And what that tells me without your saying another word, Chris, is that you knew his family, in east Texas, wasn't it? And on a guess, I'm going to say it's more likely you knew Coop's father, rather than his mother. Or maybe you knew them both. Was she very lovely, as a young girl, a young woman, Liam Christopher?''

''Elisabeth Micaela Cooper was one of the loveliest women I was ever fortunate enough to know. She had deep-set blue eyes, a freckled, oval face, and brilliant, curly chestnut hair, too. But unfortunately, our first meeting only happened about two months after she'd become betrothed, in the old fashioned sense that meant, engaged to be engaged, to Danny Smith. And Beth was as indomitable as she was bright, and she'd set her cap for Danny years before then. Is that all you wanted to know about her, Katie mauvoreen? '' Chris asked, seeing both his long time friends. Beth and Danny Smith, vividly in memory.

''No, no. There's a lot more I'd like to know about your past amours and flings and such,
old friend. But for now we'll stick to the subject of Cooper's family. And there's one mystery solved, right there. He was given his mother's maiden name. And you went to school with his father, a boy from east Texas?''

''Coop was named for Beth's father, in fact. And Danny and I both went to a boarding school in Alexandria, the year I was twelve, so that would have made Danny, eleven, maybe eleven and a half. And I would have flunked out from sheer homesickness the first year I was there, if not for him; a boy from east Texas who wanted very much to make friends with a boy from east Massachusetts! Maybe he was just as homesick. Or maybe he just wanted to hear about places he'd never been to. But Danny worked doggedly to make himself my friend that year.'' Chris sighed, remembering the time. '' And he just as resolutely remained my friend, despite the troubles that could and did cause him, in those times, until the day he died, in September of 1860. ''

'' Then that would be where Coop gets his own keen sense of fairness.'' Kate nodded.
''Tell me more about this Danny Smith, please, Chris.''

'' I'm never going to be anything but glad to talk about Danny Smith, Katie. He was tall,
as tall as Duke. But Danny always looked as if he hadn't eaten in the last month, at least!
I mean to say Danny had such long limbs, and such a wiry frame you couldn't tell at first glance, how he didn't fall over in a high wind, like an out-of-balance windmill. We used to
say the word gangling must have been invented to describe Danny. His parents named him Daniel Webster Smith, and Danny wasn't altogether pleased by that, as I recall. He said it
got him hauled into far too many debates.
He was a sort of a sandy-red-head as a boy, when he was growing so fast all the time his
eyes often looked too big for his face. And his eyes, those wide, wise grey-blue eyes, Katie, Danny Smith, could see right through any kind of fraud or cheat, or boasting or faulty logic another boy might try. And that included yours truly, from time to time. Beth told me she truly believed Danny possessed what some folks call 'an old soul'; and I believe it too. He
had such clarity of …every kind of vision, and such compassion for what he called 'the
blamed foolishness of the whole, entire world'.''

''And Beth?'' Kate asked, laying one hand lightly on Chris' right arm, when he went quiet again.

''Beth became my good friend too, partly I think because she was curious as all get out,
and wanted to know what Danny saw in this dour New Englander. ''Chris answered, laying
his hand over Kate's as if to keep it there indefinitely. '' And she had a black Irish temper
of her own, did Beth. And she had, as I already told you, an insatiable curiosity that had her reading every book and journal she could find or get sent to her in east Texas. And I sent her not a few, myself. '' Chris answered, sighing again.

'' Beth Cooper Smith also had a natural-born gift for healing, that brought her nearly every sick or hurt child, every expectant mother, and every ailing complainer in Nacogdoches county, soon, or late! Beth lived her whole life in what had been her father's home, on the crest of a hill outside the town, there. And she kept that rambling old house, for her father when he was widowed young, for her husband and sons, later on. And she kept it full of people and books and ideas and parties and life.
And when her younger son, Jefferson, didn't come from the War, Beth Smith went on trying with all she had, to ease and care for and comfort the boys who did, and the other families, the other women in those parts who'd lost their sons, too. But Jefferson's death almost literally broke Beth's heart. She began to fail, visibly, month to month, and day to day. Beth died seven and a half years after Danny passed away. She couldn't heal herself, you see.
I almost introduced myself to Coop, after his mother's services. But I thought it best to let him be, just then. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have befriended Coop, forthrightly then, when he'd lost them both, and young Jeff. Katie, I just don't know!'' Chris exclaimed, and let his long time friend pull him into an embrace.

'' Maybes aren't of any use, in a case like that, like this, my dear, my very dear.'' Kate murmured, and kissed him very gently. '' For good or ill, we can't change the past. You are Coop's friend, now. And he may not think you have miraculous abilities, the way Barnaby
and Charlie do. But he admires you, Chris, tremendously.''

'' For the time being, Katie mauvoreen, and only for the time being. What can Coop think about my keeping this secret, except that I didn't want to acknowledge my friendship with
his parents, that I decided I wasn't glad and proud to be their friend, after all? What would anyone think, except that I decided to keep to myself what fine, principled, loving parents
he and Jeff had; and how proud I know they were of their sons? What reasons could I possibly give Coop for not telling him that?''

''You already know the answer to that, Chris. You were trying to be as fair as Coop would expect, as he'd demand, and as chary of his pride. That can be all a man has, all a woman has, for that matter in this world. But, I think if you approach this, if you approach Coop in
the right way, now; he will understand all this, and in just those terms. Unless there's yet something more to this story, old friend.'' Kate studied Chris' face intently now, and he sighed and nodded.

'' Just one more piece, Katie, really. And maybe it's the only aspect of all this Coop might accept as part of my reason for hiring him on. Danny and Beth were extraordinary people,
as I said. And in the course of our friendship, they did a number of remarkable things for me. And they made what some people would call unusual requests, which I was always glad to honor. In this case, they asked me to stand up for Coop when he was christened, along with Beth's cousin, Jessy Singer. And of course, I did.'' Chris told her, feeling about a thousand pound weight lifting off his shoulders.

''But that's it, Chris! You've hit the nail right on the head!'' Kate grinned at him, bright as day. ''Coop may not be the most religious young man we know. But he certainly doesn't despise such things, the way other young men seem to do, who were in the War.''

'' Katie, I hope you're right about that point.'' Hale nodded, then he looked across the camp and frowned. ''Now, no more of this, for the time being, mauvoreen. I just saw Coop charging across the circle-up, now, as if it were a battlefield his First Texans were ordered to take!''
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CHAPTER THREE

''Well, hello, Cooper.'' Kate said, standing and holding out her hand, when Coop reached
them. '' I'm glad to see you made it back. Chris said you took the point quite a long ride ahead. How are you? How's the trail between here and South Pass looking?''

'' Hullo, Miss Kate.'' Coop answered, shaking Kate's hand, all the while hoping Chris didn't notice his startled reaction at finding Kate here. '' I - I pretty much took the point about as
far as I could in just a fortnight, or so. I'm fine. Figure Th' Platte and Th' Pass are still there, alright. Tribes in that part of the country seemed to be in a quiet mood, for once, I'm glad
to say.''

'' And we're glad to hear it.'' Kate nodded.

[ We're glad to hear it? ] Coop echoed to himself. [ What's she mean by that? ]

''Well, c'mon and get yourself some coffee! Sit down and take it easy, Cooper. We're just glad you didn't run into any particular trouble.''

[ There she goes with that 'we're glad' again! What Th' devil's goin on here? ] the scout wondered. He knew as well as anyone that Chris and Kate were close, longtime friends. But sometimes the freight-line boss still surprised him. Mostly that seemed to come when she was full of her trademark genially challenging manner

''No more than I am, I figure.'' Coop said, taking her suggestion and a cup of coffee, feeling decidedly awkward. [ Mind your temper, Coop. You were never taught to talk back to a lady. B'sides, Chris will have your guts for garters if you don't treat Kate the way he thinks is right. At least she can make coffee without burnin' it to a cinder. Mebbee that's why Charlie still doesn't cotton to her, that much. ]

'' Katie's taking a freight run up the trail ahead of us, Coop.'' Chris told his chief scout, sitting down again. ''So she wanted to hear your report as much I did.''

[ Alright, that explains, the 'we're glad' part, anyway. ] Coop decided, taking the bench across the watch-fire from Chris, as Kate stayed at the Wagonmaster's side.

'' Guess you'd already know you might have to watch for some of the younger Shoshone braves tryin' to raid your freight wagons, further along, on the way down trail from Fort Hall.''

'' Yes, we pretty much have to expect that. And I'd far rather they 'count coup' that way,
then the way their grandfathers might have done. I can afford to lose a few supplies off my wagons a lot more easily than a few scalps off my drivers. But what do you think, Chris?
Maybe I should hire this head scout of yours away from you, to keep my wagons safe? Cooper's smart. He knows the Trail and the off-Trail country like the back of his hand. He's tough and he's quicker with a repeating rifle than any wagon-boss I've ever had or known. '' Kate laughed, watching each man in turn for his reaction.

'' Sorry, Miss Kate, thanks. But 'm not interested in another job, just now.'' Coop shook his head, shifting his weight from leg to the other as she assessed him. '' I kinda like to finish one job at a time, make sure it's done, and done right; before I think about movin' on.''

''Katie can likely pay you more than I can.'' Hale suggested, folding his arms, refusing to give Kate the response she wanted, right now.

'' He's likely right about that, Cooper. Although I really shouldn't say so, when we're just starting to negotiate.'' Kate grinned.

[Why does she always call me 'Cooper' as if I was still in short pants? ] Coop wondered unhappy with the whole conversation, again. '' Sorry again, Miss Kate. I have a contract with Chris, and I don't break my word.'' Coop answered, as firmly as his upbringing allowed him to be with any woman, much less one who was his elder and his best friend's 'very good friend', besides.

'' I could have told you Coop would say just that, Katie.'' Chris said.

'' Could have and did.'' Kate answered, still having a bit of fun at the awkwardness she sensed from the scout.

'' Reckon that just means Chris knows me too danged well, by now.'' Coop said, shaking his dark head ruefully. ''Sorry to turn you down, Miss Kate.''

'' Oh, don't be, Cooper. A man's word should be something his friends can absolutely rely on, after all.'' Kate answered him, smiling as if they'd just been discussing the weather; not whether or not he'd stay with the train.

'' Yeah, that's what I've always thought, myself. Chris, if you're ready now, I thought you'd want to hear first about the trail between Kearny and the North Platte; and then what I saw further ahead, between there and South Pass.'' Coop said, shifting his weight on the bench and his focus to the Wagonmaster.

'' That'll do for a start.'' Chris agreed. But he knew Kate wasn't done with her tactics, yet, she still stood next to his chair, frowning at him, now.

'' Wait, please, Cooper. Chris, you look exhausted. And we both know Cooper must be just as tired!'' Kate protested, holding one hand out, all done with playing, truly concerned for her old friend, and his young friend, as well.

''Chris, if you're wantin' to hit the hay, that's fine with me. We can go over this after we get underway again, tomorrow. I'd have told you before this if I found any real trouble ahead.'' Coop offered, seeing his friend blinking and stifling a yawn.

''No, I'd like to hear at least a summary report now, Coop; so I can try to think on my feet when we do get back on the Trail.'' Hale insisted, scowling first at the scout, then at Kate.

''Sure, Chris.'' The scout nodded and after a quick glance meant to include Kate in their talk, went right into reporting conditions on the trail ahead. They might find some few creeks lower than usual, as a drought seemed to be gathering force through western Nebraska and up into Wyoming Territory this year. They might find some of the older settlements along the trail emptying out, these days, following the lure of land along the newer steam-engine train routes.
But the prairies themselves in the last forty years or so, wouldn't ever have changed; if not for the influx of homesteaders that picked up again, after the war. And some of Hale's passengers would be leaving the train as they got further into the Nebraska and Wyoming territories; to join that immense new movement of people settling the plains. They'd put down roots, work the land, and change it yet more, with their fences and rare, rough hewn wood cabins or sod houses dotting the plains. Those travelers and their companions were lucky this year; the trouble between settlers and Indians was up in the Dakotas, now.

'' They're headed for terrible trouble up there, from what I hear, as well.'' Kate agreed, when Coop gave that as the last part of his brief report. ''Thank you, Cooper. That was very helpful, and very succinct.''

''Umm, Miss Kate?'' the Texan asked, taking on a more formal tone and usage.

'' Yes. Cooper, what is it?'' Kate asked, turning to bestow a bright, wide smile on him.

'' D' you figure you could just call me 'Coop'? Hearin' 'Cooper' so much makes me think I'm in Dutch with my great aunt Meg, again, for makin off with another one of her peach cobblers. ''

'' Were they worth the trouble, Coop?'' Kate asked, wondering what more she didn't' know about the scout.

'' All of that and more.'' Coop nodded, with a sad smile at the memory.

'' I'll try to remember, unless of course you are in Dutch with me, fair enough?''

''Fair enough.'' Coop said, and stood up, ready to leave.

''Oh, and… Coop?'' Kate almost hated to stop him, seeing he was bone weary. ''Nobody calls me 'Miss Kate', these days except for Charlie; who's too old and set in his ways to change, and Barnaby, who's still learning the ropes. Please, call me Kate, won't you?''

'' Uh, surely, Kate.'' Coop agreed, wondering why, now, she seemed all business again, without a sign of gamesmanship in her manner. The scout turned back to Hale, and found
the Wagonmaster frowning in an uneasy fashion that Coop couldn't help worrying about, himself, and not one to hold off, he asked. ''What's the matter, Chris?''

'' Why? Does something have to be the matter for us to talk?'' Hale asked, more sharply
than he'd wanted to.

'' Well, no, there doesn't have to be, I guess. So, what's goin' on?'' Coop asked in turn.

''Chris was trying to answer a question I brought up, Coop.'' Kate said, as the Wagonmaster glared at her and then started to pace the width and length of the space beside his wagon. ''And in doing that, he seems to have come to the conclusion that you should hear that answer, too.''

''Well, what is it, then? What's the question and what's this answer?'' Coop asked Kate, as Chris went on pacing, muttering to himself .

'' Well, I've known Chris for some time; and now I've known you, Coop, for about five years and a little more. And it's occurred to me more than once to ask how two men as different as you and Chris came to work together, and came to be such friends.''

'' Couldn't say, myself. Of course I am real easy goin'; don't get drunk more n' twice or
three times a season, don't cheat at cards, not much, anymore these days, don't generally
go chasin' skirts, don't flirt with other fellow's ladies. And I'm the best scout in five territories and ten states around. Figure that's the real answer, right, Chris?'' Coop laughed.

'' You had me, Coop, right down to that last. '' Chris stopped pacing, and shook his head, finally managing a smile. '' Right down to that last.''

'' Well, 'figure it could be twelve or thirteen states, by this time.'' Coop offered, still wondering what the devil was going on with these two old friends tonight.

'' And how many territories?'' Kate asked, smiling herself

''How many y' got?'' Coop laughed, wondering why Chris wasn't joining in the fun as he usually would when the day's business was over.

'' Coop,'' Kate started, and then changed her mind so vividly Coop could read it in her face. '' This really is none of my business. I'm afraid I'm turning into almost as much of a busybody these days as Charlie Wooster!''

'' Nope, not possible. Charlie's got that title pegged down good and proper.'' Coop laughed.
'' In any case, I should go. Will you gentlemen please excuse me? I promised my current ramrod I'd check in with him before lights out.'' Kate nodded to them each and turned on
her heel, and left.

''Katie!'' Chris called after her; but she was already striding away, on the double-quick.
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CHAPTER FOUR

'' Well, do I get to know whatever this is that's none of Kate's business, sometime tonight, Chris?'' Coop asked his boss, as Hale recommenced his pacing.

'' Yes, yes, I suppose you do. I suppose you really should know this. ''Hale stopped, and sighed. ''Coop, did it never occur to you to wonder how I chose you for head scout?''

'' Did it? Nope, guess not. But now you're gonna tell me the part that's not covered by my lack of any genuine vices, except for my black-Irish/Welsh temper? And then there's the work I did for other trains, other people, right?'' Coop asked.

'' Mister Chris! Mister Chris!'' Charlie Wooster's high, carrying voice broke in to their talk just as the old cook rushed up to the Wagonmaster, shaking, almost out of breath, his dark eyes wide, his face grim.

'' Charlie, sit down here, and calm down.'' Hale ordered. '' I want to know what's wrong. But
I don't want you collapsing on me. Take a couple deep breaths. Coop, you know where I keep what Charlie needs some of right now.''

''Yes, sir.'' Both men answered, as Charlie took Chris' chair by the watch-fire, and Coop walked around the back of Hale's wagon to get a bottle of brandy kept within. Only when Charlie had sipped some of the liqueur, and thereby got some color back in his face, did the Wagonmaster and the scout stop exchanging worried looks.

''Alright, Charlie.'' Coop encouraged the older man. '' Just tell us what happened. It can't be that bad, can it? Or else we'd have Barney and Bill both chasing over here, right after you.''

''They're still down by th' picket line.'' Charlie answered, almost moaning. ''They're still down there with th' girl. I told 'em at least one of 'em had best stay with her, there. Oh, th' poor little girl!''
''Who, Charlie?'' Chris asked.

''What girl?'' Coop joined in.

'' Didn't I already say, Mister Chris?'' the cook asked.

''No, Charlie. So start over, please, old friend. Has someone been hurt? Is someone ill?'' Chris questioned, more worried now, seeing how disturbed the older man was.

'' Nope, ain't nobody hurtin', not anymore.'' Charlie sighed, his dark eyes immensely sad. ''Ain't nobody sick, either. It's little Lissa Burke, Mister Chris. It's her. She's gone. She's lyin' down there, with only my old ratty quilt to give her some decent coverin', is all. I found her down there, y'see? Only she was already gone, Mister Chris. She was already gone! An' I don't hardly… Mister Chris, I can't hardly bring m'self to tell you. She … Th' poor sorrowful creature, th' poor little thing; Mister Chris, I think she done herself in.'' Charlie finished; his last words almost a murmur.

Coop heard himself gasp, and looking over, saw Chris bending his head as though in prayer. The scout's thoughts weren't exactly winging heavenward, right now, though. He was too shocked; imagining the slight, strawberry blonde young woman he'd only had a nodding acquaintance with, at best, lying dead.

And he was more concerned with these two very good friends, in all honesty, than a girl no one could help, now.

''Charlie, that was fine, giving her your quilt, that way.'' Coop told the cook. '' Didn't you tell me your sister made it?''

'' Nan.'' Charlie nodded, managing only the one word.

''And Bill's stayin' down there, now?'' the scout went on. It seemed as though Chris needed somebody else to ask these questions, while he gathered his own thoughts. ''And Barney, too? How's Barney takin' this, Charlie?''

''Oh, Barney's bein' a real trooper, Coop. You'd never know by a look or a word he wasn't a man grown just about now. He told me he'd go and talk to Missus Burke, as he's been drivin' for her and … th' girl. But I, I told him no. Reckon I was right to tell him no, Coop?''

'' You were absolutely right, Charlie.'' Chris answered, speaking with quiet certainty and reassurance, before Coop could. '' That kind of thing isn't Barney's to do. It's mine. And as soon as I've seen… Lissa, I'll go on over to her mother's wagon, myself. Mrs. Burke will want to know everything I can possibly tell her.''

'' I'll go look up that young minister who came onto the train not long before I rode out, Chris. '' Coop said. '' He didn't seem the type to make too harsh a judgment, in a case like this.''

''You're right, Coop.'' Hale said. ''I've had a chance to talk with him, once or twice. Parry's his name. Rhys Parry. He's just emigrated here from Cardiff, in Wales. Tell him why he's needed, and where, which is at Mrs. Burke's wagon. And Coop, when you've got that done, go and get Barney, take him for a long walk, a ride, anything to help him with the severe reaction he's bound to have, and sooner rather than late. We'll have to get back to our talk, another time.''

''Sure, Chris.'' Coop nodded and strode off through the camp, shaking his head and sighing over the shock and sorrow of a hapless young mother's poignant end.

''Charlie,'' Chris went on. I want you to stay put right here, until I can make sure you've got your land-legs back, again. You hear? Take another dram of brandy, if need be. But leave me some, I think I'm going to need it myself, before this night's over.''

''Yes, Mister Chris. And 'm sorry, real sorry to bring you this kinda news, Mister Chris.'' Charlie shook his head.

'' Don't worry, Charlie. I've hardly ever been known to shoot the messenger.'' Chris said, and left the old cook looking after him, in no little confusion.
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After bringing the young minister the terrible news, and relaying Chris' request, Coop strode
at the double quick down to the train's picket line. The scout was worried about Charlie, sitting alone at Chris' wagon now; the older man seemed as badly shaken as Coop had ever seen him. And then there was Barney, who'd already had far too many experiences with death and grieving. At the far end of the line, Coop found Bill, pacing with the youngster, keeping one strong arm around Barney's shoulders.

''Hey, Bill, Barney.'' Coop greeted them, glancing only once at the absolutely still form concealed by Charlie's old quilt. '' Chris will likely be here any minute. He may have changed his mind and gone to see Missus Burke, first, though.''

At the mention of Lissa's mother, Barney looked up at Coop. The youngster was pale as milk, and badly shaken, his wide grey eyes shining with tears Coop knew Barney didn't want anyone to notice. '' She's gonna be awfully torn up about … this! And comin' so soon after th' accident with Willy! What's she gonna do, Coop? What's she gonna do, Bill?''

'' She's going to have it really rough for a while, Barney.'' Bill answered, turning Barney around to face him. '' There's just no way around that. But we're all going to do all we possibly can, to help her. So will the folks on the train. She's made a lot of friends, helping other folks with their sick babies, and all. And folks remember that sort of thing, and want
to do the same for someone as just plain kind as Amanda Burke.''

'' Reckon Bill's right about that, Barney. That's pretty much how folks get through the hardest times; with the help of people they've helped themselves. Anyway, that's a big part of it. Don't you think so?'' Coop asked, trying to reassure the boy.

''Mebbee.'' Barney nodded. '' It's just, Missus Burke, she was doin' really well, seemed to
me, when I did some drivin' for her last week, and … '' the youngster's eyes trailed reluctantly towards the quilt and what it hid from sight. '' Missus Burke, she only looked back, once or twice, then kept on lookin' forward, talkin' to me, some. But mostly she was talkin' to Lissa,
of course. I thought they were both doin' really well. Figure I was wrong, there. Must've been awfully hard, leavin' little Willy behind, an' all. Reckon it was harder on Lissa, than I thought. ''

'' Barney,'' Coop said, taking his turn to bring the boy's gaze back to him. '' you're right. I don't think there could be anything harder, than to lose a child. I know the very idea scares me silly, just to tryin' to get it into my head. The funny thing is, women are so danged much stronger than fellas, that way. They get through troubles that'd make most fellas take off runnin'. We've all seen that happen, every year, on the way across country, haven't we?
And what else I know is you were a big help to Lissa and her mother. Not just taking the driving off their hands, Barney, but because you know the way they were hurting, because you lost your family, too. You could sympathize, you see? And that's all you can do, sometimes, but it's can mean a lot. And what else you know, Barney, is that time's
the only other thing can help folks, in a case like this, don't you?''

'' Yeah, Coop. Sure. But now, I won't know what to say to Lissa's mother. I can't think what I'd say to her. Not a bit.'' Barney shook his head, scuffing the toe of his left boot in the dirt, and studying the process intently, as if to make sure he transferred just the right amount.

''Mebbee she won't need you to say much of anything, right away, Barney.'' The scout answered, somberly. '' Mebbee it will turn out the best thing you can do for Missus Burke is only to be someone who knows certain sure how Lissa loved her, because you saw it, day after day. And mebbee she'll find it more comfortable to have you come back and drive for her, since you've already done that, and got used to her team and to her ways. That way,
did she come around to wanting to talk, you'd be there sort of ready-made, all the corners already worn down, and all. And doing that for her, will help you, too. At least, you'll build up your calluses for when you might drive for Chris or Charlie, up the trail a bit.''

''Do you think Mister Chris would really let me drive for him?'' Barney asked, with half a grin, before he realized he shouldn't be smiling, right now.

'' Well, you know, Chris likes to drive his wagon sometimes, just to get out of the saddle for
a while, Barney.'' Bill, said, nodding his appreciation to Coop for helping the lad. '' But what
I think is, he's likely to be real impressed if he sees you handling the pack of wild cayuses Charlie's got this year. So that would be the next step, I'd say. Wouldn't you, Coop?''

'' Absolutely. And Charlie doesn't mind a bit, most times, letting someone drive the cook wagon. He says it gives him time to think. I think it gives him time to nap!'' Coop grinned and winked at Barney.

Barney nodded and chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip awhile. '' Charlie really looked awful, when he came to get Bill, before. I think he was plumb shocked, or he wouldn't have let me come on down here, to wait with … Lissa. Is he alright, now?''

'' He will be, Barney. That's real fine of you to worry about him. Mebbee we should send Bill
on over to Chris' wagon, now; just to make sure Charlie hasn't sipped up all of Chris' brandy, though. And you and me, we'll go for a tramp, or a ride? What d'you think?'' Coop asked sparing a glance at the ramrod, who nodded and turned to leave.

'' I don't think so; Coop. Not right now. Charlie said it would be really, really wrong to
just leave, to just leave Lissa here. '' Barney said, swallowing and looking anxious again.

'' That's very thoughtful, and very kind of you, Barnaby.'' A tall, rangy, dark haired young man, carrying a lantern and a Bible, said, walking towards the trio of friends. ''But I've come over to keep vigil with her, now. '' This was Rhys Parry, the newest passenger on the Hale train. The minister nodded to Coop and Bill, but kept his wide dark eyes and his attention focused on Barney, now, placing one long hand on the youngster's shoulder.
'' I left Mr Hale with Melissa's mother, just now. And I told both of them, I'd wait here,
while whatever is needful is being arranged. I came to do what is all that can be done for
the child, now, which is to pray. And of course, you're welcome to stay and join me in that. But it strikes me you've done your part and more this evening, Barnaby. And tomorrow
will be quite trying for us all, I'm afraid. Best you go on back with your friends, I'd say.''

'' Oh, uh, alright, Reverend.'' Barney nodded. ''Reckon Lissa… don't know if we're here, or we're not, not anymore.''

''But that's where I would strongly disagree, my young friend.'' Parry said, his voice and tone so kind, not even a teenaged boy could take his words as a reproof. '' I believe she surely knows, better than ever, now, how fine and compassionate a heart you truly have.''

Barney excitedly studied the minister's sharp features for a moment; and then seemed to lose an argument with himself, blurting out. '' You don't think she's lost, then, Reverend? You truly don't?''

'' No, I truly don't think that could be so, Barnaby. I believe in fact that Melissa is safe, free and well, and whole again. Of course, I'm Methodist, you see; and so I have no great stock built up in the notion of Purgatory.''

''But you're a preacher!'' Barney went on, too worn out by this time, to pick and choose his words. '' You've just got to believe in heaven and hell! And all the other preachers I ever heard said it was a damning thing, a just plain damning thing… what Lissa done.''

Now both Coop and Bill opened their mouths, ready to remonstrate with the boy. But Parry shook his head, and once more fixed his gaze on Barney's. '' First of all, Barnaby, we don't know for certain what transpired out here, before Charles found our poor Melissa. And that being the case, it would be doubly wrong of me as a presumed example of good mores, to judge her prematurely. So I won't. And I know you haven't done, and won't do that, either, Barnaby. As I said, you've got much too good a heart for that. That being said, yes, I do believe with all my heart in Heaven. My faith, the faith I'm oath-bound to propagate, has
'the resurrection and the life' as its founding principle, after all.''

''Barney, '' Bill stepped in, literally between the boy and the minister. '' Don't you think you should calm down here a minute, and then apologize to the Reverend for talking to him, that way?''

'' 'm sorry, Reverend Parry. I shouldn't have hollered at you, like that.'' Barney said, hanging his head again, before looking up into the minister's earnest face.

'' Never mind, Barnaby, these are extremely unusual and trying circumstances.'' Parry said. ''And what I'd like to add, in trying to answer your very natural question is this: Melissa's spirit has, I believe, flown straight to Heaven, to rejoin her tiny son waiting for her, there.
And I believe that because my faith, and my own life's experience to date has shown me
there surely is a loving, compassionate, and eternally forgiving G-d in His Heaven, waiting
to take each of us into His mighty arms and welcome us Home again, someday.

Otherwise, we'd all be lost, and long since! We're all of us only human beings, Barnaby. We're weak and flawed, and we constantly struggle to find and do the right, as best we can. And we can fail miserably at that endeavor which He knows, having shaped our very souls, as surely as He did our bodies. And as you said, some people, in religion and otherwise believe the greatest failure of the human spirit, is despair, which they see as giving up on G-d.

And I disagree, which I'm certain some people and some churches would consider heretical
on my part. Because I believe, the Lord our G-d never made us with the idea that we would live our earthly lives in some improbable state of perfection. No, he made us complex, complicated, and confusing, even to ourselves, sometimes. He made us that way so we might learn and grow towards Him and the spark from His eternal spirit he placed in each human soul. And as He created us, so He loves us, even when we fall, even when we grope in the darkness, even when we know despair. And we all come to know that painful state, that lost and wandering emptiness at some point in our lives; because the human spirit is also meant by it's Source and it's Creator to explore all the farthest and all the inmost reaches of itself.

And so to me, the real tragedy and ignominy of human despair isn't to be found in the individual person who finds himself trapped in that morass. No, it's the rest of us who share the world with him, or her, and take such little notice of their suffering. G-d said man was not meant to live alone, didn't He? That means, in the broader sense, that we're all needed
by and in need of others. So, when we see a tormented soul, which young Melissa, even in our brief acquaintance surely seemed to be; the shame and the sorrow is what we don't do for her, not what she does.
She was struggling at a very young age, with burdens that can and do overwhelm the wisest, and strongest amongst us. I suppose some would even say Melissa should be in Heaven now, because she already knew hell on earth. And not having the capacity to understand G-d's judgments, I can only admit that may be true, as well. But what I did learn about Melissa,
in as I say, a short time, was that despite her sorrows, she retained the ability to love, tremendously. And that is why I believe, she is not condemned but redeemed, at this
very moment, now. So, Barnaby, do you think you can understand that?''

''Yeah. Yeah. I think I do.'' Barney said, sounding surprised.

''Well, I'm glad then. Now, go on with your friends; and I'll be glad to talk with you about this, again tomorrow, or at any other time, alright?''

'' Yeah. Yeah. I'd like that.'' Barney nodded, and only then looked to Bill and Coop for what he should be doing now.

''Let's go for that ride we talked about, now, Barney.'' Coop encouraged the youngster. ''C'mon, now. It'll likely do you a world of good.''

''Okay. See you after a bit, then, Bill.'' Barney said, looking to the ramrod for his okay.

''See you, Barney.'' Hawks nodded, with a taut smile that spoke eloquently of his pride in the youngster's, for the most part, managing the situation so well.

In another few minutes Coop was astride Gambler, with Barney beside him, on the blue roan gelding the crew had gone together with Chris to buy him at the end of last year's journey. Barney named the handsome two year old Wanderer. And the name seemed all the more appropriate, as Barney worked every spare quarter of an hour that fall and winter, to teach him to stay put.

They rode a quarter mile away from the circle-up, at a good pace, without a word spoken between the scout and the youngster, before stopping. The night air was crisp and, even
this close to the camp, free of its smoke and noise. A handful of stars were showing in the spring sky, and Coop thought if he tried, he'd recall the constellation's names. Orion, with
his hounds, was one, certain sure.

And that meant Ursa Major and Minor couldn't be too far.[ So, should I try giving Barney an astronomy lesson; or just let him sit and get his thoughts to stop whirring around in his head after all this? ] Coop wondered. Barney answered that question by pulling something out of the haversack slung on behind Wanderer's saddle.

''Coop, I'm sorry. I forgot to give this back to you, when I found it in your old haversack,
th' other night.'' The youngster said, holding out a worn, leather bound pocket-journal.
'' I didn't look in it a bit, promise I didn't.''

''Don't worry about that, Barney.'' Coop smiled at him, taking the dog-eared book and turning it over in his hands. '' There's nothin' secret in here. In fact, seems like I plumb forgot it was still down in my old 'sack. Haven't even looked in it myself, in a long while.''

''What's it for, then?'' Barney asked, looking as if he'd be glad for a change of subject from tonight's events.

'' Letters.'' The scout answered, glancing through the journal pages.

'' Letters? You wrote letters in there and then tore 'em out to post?''

''No, Barney. It's something a lot of fellows did, in the War, a habit the boys got into, when we couldn't get anywhere we could post our letters home. And that was especially true when the First was up in Virginia, or down in Georgia or out in Tennessee with the Texas Brigade. There was no way to send letters to, or get any from home back in east Texas. We'd write 'em down, and wait for a time they could get sent, you see?''

'' So you'd write the letters you wanted to send home?'' Barney asked.

'' That's the idea. Figure some of the fellows will end up writin' their memoirs from this kind
of thing. Not me, though. I just haven't wanted to get rid of this, yet. '' Coop nodded, wondering why he wasn't able to tell Barney that this journal had been a gift from Coop's late father, years before the War. Now, the binding was cracked in places, and the leather frayed at the corners. And the scout knew he'd never want to be 'rid' of it, or the times and people
it brought back to him.

'' Well, then, Coop, when you got home to Nacad… Naga…''

' Nacogdoches.'' Coop finished the Old Mexican town-name for him. '' Did I show this to anybody there? Is that what you wanted to ask? Just my momma But I could never tell if it made her sad or not. She wouldn't let on about that kind of thing a bit. Thanks for findin' this, Barney, it's a good thing to have some memories writ down, sometimes, even the ones you'd rather lose. We can't change the past, though, for good or ill, ever. And the past's already changed us, anyway. That's what momma used to say.''

''Reckon you miss her a lot, don't you, Coop?'' Barney asked, sounding skittish again, reluctant to broach the subject.

'' Reckon I do, Barney. But it's funny, in a way. It's like an ache I'm glad to have, to keep
me from forgettin' her. As if I ever, ever could. She was somethin' else, tall and slim and bright eyed, with a voice like a hearth fire, low and ardent, and full of light. And we all thought she was gonna live for just about … ever.''

'' Wow. Wow, I guess I never thought about missin' somebody like that before.'' Barney said and looked down at Wanderer's mane, somber again.

'' Barney, you don't have to talk about your folks with me, ever, if you don't want. '' Coop assured the youngster, looking at him, eye to eye. '' But if you want, you can, anytime. Just, what happened tonight, likely brought how you feel about them being gone, back to you, didn't it?''
'' Kinda, mebbee.'' Barney answered, shaking his head, his wide eyes sad again. ''Guess I never knew anybody that got so sad they'd want to die, though. And mebbee she wouldn't have, if somebody had only talked with her, more. I dunno, though. She'd hardly say a word, when I was drivin' for them. Guess she wasn't really doin' so very well. Guess I was wrong about that. She'd sit back in the wagon, Coop, and I think she was holdin' a toy of Willy's sometimes, or his picture. Do you, Coop, do you think somebody might've stopped her?''

''We can't know that, Barney. Nobody can.'' Coop insisted, grasping Barney's arm. ''And you'll hear the dumbest and the smartest people in the world tell you that same, exact thing. Because it's not given us to know. And I tend to think it could make a fellow crazed, trying. And I know it can make a fellow mad as hell. Because there's just no understanding this
kind of trouble, when a young girl dies; anymore than there is for why some folks live so long, despite all their woes.''

''You mean like Charlie?'' Barney asked, with the ghost of his usual wide grin tugging at his mouth.

''No, Barney, I meant you!'' Coop chuckled, glad to see that grin. '' You're gonna be two hundred and fourteen, come your birthday, aren't you, youngster?''

'' Two hundred and fifteen, you young whippersnapper!'' Barney smiled, giving a kind of mixed interpretation of Charlie Wooster and Chris Hale both. Then he turned Wanderer back towards the train. ''So you'd best commence to bein' more respectful-like around me! D'ye hear?''

'' Oh, yes, sir, Mister Barnaby, sir!'' the scout nodded, giving Gambler a nudge in that direction. ''Whatever you say, sir!''

'' Well, now, just look at the time! It's way past your bedtime, you young ne'er-do-well! You go on, now, and get a move on back to the circle up, and on the double-quick, too! And I'll still beat your best time getting back there! C'mon, Wanderer, c'mon, boy!'' Barney crowed with laughter and set off, with a whoop that melded the wild Rebel yell Coop taught him, with a full throated Indian war cry.
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CHAPTER FIVE

''A mighty fortress is our God,
A bulwark never failing,
Protecting us with staff and rod,
His power all prevailing.
What though the nations rage,
And surging seas rampage;
What though the mountains fall,
The Lord is God of all;
On earth is found no equal. '' the mourners for young Melissa Burke quietly sang, early the next morning. Looking around, Coop Smith saw more of the train's passengers here than he'd expected. The older women from the train were standing with Amanda Burke, supporting her on all sides. The widowed, bereft woman seemed to have shrunk into herself in only the last day, becoming frailer, greyer. Coop wasn't surprised by this. He'd seen the same thing happen to dozens and scores of mothers, like his own, who lost sons in the War, and never fully recovered from that blow.
The scout was surprised to see some of their husbands standing by the grave, standing by their women and Mrs. Burke, despite the grim circumstances of Lissa's death. Maybe these still green, still anxious travelers were beginning to find their kinship, beginning to be the village on wagon wheels they needed to become, to make it across country.

''The waters of God's goodness flow
Through out His holy city,
And gladden hearts of those who know
His tenderness and pity.
Though nations stand unsure,
God's kingdom shall endure;
His power shall remain,
His peace shall ever reign,
Our God, the God of Jacob.'' They finished the old hymn. Chris Hale stood between to the knot of women surrounding Amanda Burke and his youngest crew member and adoptive
son, Barnaby West. Barney, was almost as pale this morning as the bereaved mother and grandmother. But Barney was also making his surrogate father very proud today, keeping a calm façade, and a sharp eye on Charlie Wooster. Charlie seemed to be holding on, after the shock of finding Lissa Burke dead last night, by his gnarled fingertips. The Wagonmaster was just thankful, for once, not to be the one leading these sad services. He'd done so far too many times, and each one seemed to lay on his shoulders, this morning.

Now Rhys Parry stepped back to the graveside and opened his Book to read in a clear, warm voice from Psalm 30: 4,5:
"Sing praise to the Lord, you saints of His, and give thanks at the remembrance of His holy name. For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; weeping many endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning"

Then he looked over the mourners and surprised them all by going to embrace Lissa's mother, and murmur some more personal words of comfort. And only after doing so, did he turn and address them all, with a sad, calm gaze.
'' All of you here this morning are aware that I am not the One here Who knows Lissa Burke best of all, the One Who alone knows her heart and soul.'' He began. ''That One has young Lissa, and her tiny son Willy joyfully reunited, in His All-mighty, All-compassionate arms, at this very moment. That One, not any of us here, called them back to Him, back to the Home that has always and will always be prepared for all of us. And it is, as always, for Him, not
for us, to decide, to choose, and to judge the moment He will call us Home to His all- embracing arms.
And that is perhaps the hardest thing to understand, my friends. And in my own seeking,
in my own soul-searching at such times as this, what I've finally come to understand is;
that we cannot grasp His judgments, His choices, or His time. How can we, His creatures,
even begin to comprehend the mind and heart of our Creator? So we needn't try. We'd be foolish to make the attempt.
We only need understand our own hearts, as best we can, we only need grasp our own choices, our own judgments. We only need comprehend to the best of our ability, the hearts and minds of our neighbors, our fellow-creatures. And where we still cannot comprehend, we only need follow the One Commandment He placed above all others, to 'Love One Another'. And that is what you are doing here, today, by coming to stand and sing and pray with young Lissa's mother, young Willy's grandmother. And that is how I know without question, that the One Who made us all, and shaped all our hearts and minds, is looking down and blessing us, for what we do here, today. G-d bless you all. Are you ready, now, Charles?''

Coop looked at Charlie and then at Chris, the latter looking as surprised as Coop felt, the former nodding and stepping forward to take the Bible Reverend Parry held out to him. Then, standing straight as an oak, squaring his shoulders like a soldier going into battle, in a stronger, sadder, deeper voice than most of the mourners had ever heard him use, Charlie began to read from Isaiah: 61: 1-3:
"The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion- to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.''
'' That was grand, Charles.'' The young minister said and then, surprised the group again by beckoning to Barney. ''Barnaby, finish up for us, won't you?''

Barney gulped plainly enough for all to see and hear, but nodded vigorously and walked over to take the Bible from Charlie. The old cook hugged the youngster hard, patted his shoulder and walked back to the others without another word. His young face solemn and not a little proud, Barney opened the Bible to the third place marker, and read, from Romans 8:38-39:

''For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will
be able to separate us from the love of God our Lord."

''Very well done, Barnaby, thank you.'' Parry told the boy, getting something close to Barney's daylight bright grin in return. Then one last time the minister turned to the mourners. ''My friends, let us pray.'' He asked. And all bowed their heads in silent prayer for a mother, a daughter and a grandson. In the stillness of that moment, none of them saw a lanky, bony faced, long legged stranger, moving quietly away from the copse of willow trees where Lissa Burke now lay at peace. @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
CHAPTER SIX

The Hale train moved back onto the trail after two more days. In that time, not surprisingly, Amanda Burke made the decision to remain in the small town of Kearny, next to the old fort. And her erstwhile neighbors from the train did all they could to see her settled ''where m' girl and her little 'un' are, now.'' That first day out was almost as slow and problematic as the first day out of St. Joseph had been, more than a month before. But the mood was subdued, not celebratory. No one could quite take their minds from the sad events of recent days, to the happier prospects up ahead.
And no one, including Chris Hale and Cooper Smith found themselves ready to pick up their day to day conversations, especially the ones so harshly interrupted by a young mother's death. Lissa Burke's death, although Hale hadn't told anyone besides Lissa's grieving mother, and the chief medical officer at Fort Kearny, was a mystery in and of itself, now. Chris found himself stumped, when he examined her; and turned what little he knew over to someone who might find more answers.
There was nothing the Wagonmaster could point to show the sad young woman hadn't poisoned herself that night, with a massive dose of laudanum. On the other hand he'd found nothing to make certain she had. Amanda Burke bluntly told Hale she wasn't sure she wanted the answer; her daughter had been through enough, and more than enough. But Chris knew he would go on believing he'd somehow been negligent in Lissa's case; and he'd be remiss in his ongoing responsibility, if he didn't learn the truth. He couldn't say he wanted proof the distraught young mother took her own life; yet Chris dreaded the possibility that she hadn't.

[ Did you say I was on the horns of a dilemma over Coop's hiring, Katie mauvoreen? Well now I've got one that beats the other, all-hollow! ] Chris thought as he rode up the line of wagons to find his oldest friend. Whether he should tell Kate, or anyone else his suspicions was the question Hale wrestled with now, Whether he had any right to keep this to himself until word came back from Kearny was it's other side.
And none of that kept the work he had to do, getting these people across a continent, from demanding his time, his energy and his hard-won pragmatism. They depended on him, and so they should since he'd given them all his solemn word. And that word extended to his crew, his friends here, too. They only got in the occasional uproar about his retiring because he'd made a family of them; a family for them, when the very different one created by Seth Adams was broken by 'the Major's' death.
[And now there may be some damnable coward of a killer, riding with us, up this trail! And how do I find that out, how do I make certain those in my charge are safe, without creating total panic? And a couple days ago I was mainly worried about telling Coop I knew and loved both his parents, and yes, that had some part in his getting this job? What makes me think Coop's so young and hotheaded still he wouldn't eventually understand that?

He's Danny's son, and just as levelheaded as Danny always was, after all. And he's Beth's son, and has all of her black-Irish temper, as well. Well, never mind that now, old man! You've got to get your priorities straightened out and on the double-quick! G-d alone knows if all the women on this train, or just the single or widowed, or bereft women on this train are facing deadly danger! So you've got to deal with that, before you go back to worrying if you're going to lose your chief scout before we get out of Nebraska!]
Still making his way up the line, Hale now approached his crew, all on horseback except for Charlie, who kept his perch at the front of his cook wagon. And they were confabbing so intently, it was apparent they didn't note Chris riding up. This might mean anything from a plan of Charlie's regarding fresh meat for his cook pot, to a disagreement over which route Duke should take the point on, to Barney's latest idea to get out of his daily lessons. Bill and Coop could usually be relied on to keep these sessions brief and to a minimum, and not to contribute much to the general chatter. In this instance, not so much, it seemed, as Chris rode around the back of the wagon, unobserved, for now.

'' I swear, I think these folks have forgotten almost everything we taught them since they left St. Joe! Maybe we should make them drill, the way we had to in the War when we weren't too busy marchin', ridin', buildin' earthworks or getting' shot at behind them.'' Bill was suggesting dryly, which earned him wide grins and nods from Coop and Duke, and a wide eyed look from Barney.

'' Well, for Pete's sake leave out teaching them to build earthworks! '' Coop laughed. '' We'd never stop some of them from building sod-houses, and settling in for the winter, instead!''

''Glad to hear you gentlemen in such high spirits.'' Hale called out, coming around Charlie's wagon. '' Now, with your kind indulgence, my friends, may I ask that you break up your symposium for now and get back to the business at hand?''

[ What's the matter with him, now? ] was the look that flashed between the five crew members. ''Yes, sir!'' was what they answered aloud. Nodding and hiding his own half
grin at their reactions, the Wagonmaster turned and rode up the line, again.

'' I think it's the toothache.'' Charlie suggested in a whisper, then. ''Why, even the Major would get irraggible just like this, whenever he had the toothache.''

'' I think he must be on the outs with 'Katie''' was Duke's suggestion, made just as quietly.

'' Well they sure didn't seem that way to me the other night.'' Coop disagreed. '' I think Chris tried Charlie's biscuits again. Because they always give him indigestion. Matter of fact, they always give me the same. What Th' devil do you put in those things, Charlie?''

'' None of your beeswax, Mister-never- got- his- colonel's- wings-Colonel-Smart! Go on and try makin' your own, under these harsh commitments. '' Charlie scolded, while the others went on pretending he was speaking English instead of Woosterish.

'' And I think Chris is gonna turn back and ride down on us like a pack of tooth achey, up all night 'miserable, sick to their stomachs Kiowa, anytime now, 'gentlemen'.'' Bill told them, while he kept a weather eye on the Wagonmaster. '' So let's go on and get busy, shall we?''

''Yes, sir, Mister Ramrod, sir!'' the other four chorused and scattered, not so much to the four winds as to their assigned positions for the afternoon's push towards Grand Island, Nebraska, and points west.

Chris Hale watched them dispersing and sighed. He wasn't looking forward to the rest of this day, as much as he'd wanted and needed to get his people, his train, back on the trail again. They were making what seemed amazingly slower progress this year. Or maybe he was just amazingly more weary and worn-out. And that he couldn't afford to be. Not until he had word back from Fort Kearny.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Out of sight of the Hale train, a group of men, wearing dusters and slouch hats, sat their
mounts and watched and waited, as the line of wagons stretched longer and longer, towards the western horizon. One of these men in particular, a long legged, dark, gangling fellow, astride a grey stallion, kept watching the slowest of the wagons, dropping back, further and further. He'd ridden close enough, twice, in the past week's time, to make clear mental note of which travelers were in the most difficulty on this trek. Now he was letting his companions know which of those presented the least threatening targets. But that wasn't their sole, or even their main criterion for what happened next. Instead, as the man reporting in got nearly done, he glanced towards a slightly younger man in the group, who nevertheless had been its principal, since the late Conflict ended.

This was a cerebral looking man, of medium height and a graceful build, with deep set dark hazel eyes, and thin, black hair receding slightly, now. Under the cavalry officer's slouch hat and duster he effected, this man wore an expensively tailored suit, minus its jacket. Similarly the black gelding this man rode was elegantly outfitted, and like his rider, showed every sign of a gentle breeding. And as his companion stopped speaking, done with his report, this man smiled and nodded, and turned to address the group as a whole.

''My friends, we were extremely fortunate, a few nights ago, in that our boldest companion, our dear Solomon, here, was not apprehended while dealing with our latest target. Greater attention to detail must be paid, in future. In this case, it only seemed our person of interest went unobserved or at least, was not missed by her main companion, that being her mother.'' The speaker, a man called Morrissey told them.

''Mebbee we shouldn't go after folks that ain't growed up enough to leave their mommas!'' another member of the group, an unusually tall young man named Geronne, with a powerful build and jovial features, laughed and was joined by all his comrades.

'' We go after whomsoever we need to!'' the first man, who went by the name Solomon Howell, responded with fury. '' And we take them down, as needed. That's what we come
out to this danged wasteland for! Well, ain't it?''

''Hey, take it easy, Sol!'' a fourth man told him, stepping between the two. This was a
member of the group who went by Matt Harkins, these days. He was among the youngest here, with a still boyish, but well muscled build and a wiry frame. His eyes were the color
of old bronze coins, and his molded features showed a likely Creole heritage. '' Robby here was just joshin' with you. You know that as well as any of us. And besides, you could've been tripped up, the other night, by that old man came out and found your danged person
of interest, easy. I saw him, I was watchin', same as you when they planted the girl. He's
old, alright, but he's not blind or deef, now is he?''

''So, what're you saying, Matty-boy?'' Howell demanded, his fists cocked, ready to fly. ''What are all y'all saying to me? That y'all think I done something stupid? Well, think again. I never got caught, not even close an' I got 'er, dint I? I took one more name off th' roll, now, dint I?''

''Most assuredly, you did, my dear man.'' A fifth in the group answered. This was a tall, slender, gracefully built, older man with hair like a black lion's mane flowing back from his vivid features, who called himself Palmerston Montagu, for the most part. He rode a dark red roan thoroughbred, which mount looked as richly appointed as his rider, and now guided his roan next to Howell's grey.
His eyes were wide, icy grey, and cold as a hurricane from his native South Carolina coast. His manner, gestures, appearance and speech were elegant, always deliberate, always with
at least the semblance of serenity and reason. ''No one here questions or quibbles on that point of order. One more irksome creature is now, no longer … irksome, all thanks to your skill and your valor. Why, if such a thing had ever existed, Solomon, my dear, dear friend, I would be calling for you to be awarded the Confederate Medal of Valor!''

'' And I, for one, can think of far better uses to put a bit of brass to, Palmerston.'' Morrissey interrupted them, holding out one blunt fingered hand. '' And I'm sure Sol and the other
boys will agree. It would be much better used as the casing for a rifle's or revolver's bullet, especially when we were so metal-poor, in those old days. And it's still true that we stand
in more need of weaponry than of honors.''

''Well, certainly, old friend, certainly.'' The effusive Carolinian agreed, with only a momentary scowl marring his aquiline features. '' You are quite correct, as always.''

''But you think I done something wrong, is that what I'm still hearing from you, Lee Henry?'' Howell asked, nudging his mount closer to the group's leader, whose full name was Lee Henry Richard Morrissey.

'' Only in your zeal, my friend, your great zeal to accomplish our goals, which has been
known to take you in harm's way. And by doing so, you run the risk of putting us all in
no small danger of being exposed before we are done with our grand endeavors.
And I know you don't wish all our efforts and all our plans to be wasted, to be thrown
away, at this late date.'' Morrissey insisted, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin.

'' Damn right I don't!'' Howell exclaimed, throwing up his hands in obvious disgust. '' What d'ye want me to do, then? Stop cold when I've got another of those danged fools, another
of our rightful prey, walking right into my hands? 'Cause that I won't ever do!''

'' Certainly not. Certainly not, Solomon. I only ask that you no longer take on these
measures of irreproachable justice entirely by yourself. I only ask that you take at
least a lookout with you, from now on. And that is what I expect you to agree to;
as of this moment, my good friend. You do see the sense of that, don't you, Solomon?''
Morrissey answered him, without a note of anger or even temper in his deep, compelling voice.

'' I see you want to hobble me, Lee Henry. And I don't like it so much as a bit.'' Howell insisted, frowning.

''But?'' Morrissey asked, keeping his gaze fixed on the older man's sharp features.

''But I gave my oath, long since, to follow your lead in this. And I don't' break my word.
All y'all know that's nothing but true. So when I'm next heading out after another of the
foes of all of us here; yeah, I'll take me a tough little bandy rooster like Matty here, or a
sharp eared fellow like Zeke back there, along, to watch my back. Wake up, Zeke! Hey,
Adamson! We're not just having a friendly confab, here. I'm talking about you!'' Howell shouted.
Everyone in the group laughed, now as the man Howell called to, sat up on his buckskin gelding as if called to attention. This was Ezekiel Adamson, at least so far as most of this assemblage knew, a dark haired, grey eyed compactly built young man, with a reputation
for a quick trigger and a quicker temper. He had a gunfighter's key habits of sitting at the back of a room or a crowd, and only resting when absolutely sure no one could take a step
in his direction he didn't hear. Now he looked around, and grinned tautly as he recognized who'd awakened him.

''Hey, Sol!'' Adamson shouted back. '' Hey, heard you had a close call, t'other night, boy! You'd best be takin' ol' Zeke here along, next trip.''

''That's what I just told the Man, Ezekiel!'' Howell answered, his face creasing in a fashion that was as close as it ever got to laughter.

''Alright, that's all this gathering was intended to settle, gentlemen.'' Morrissey told the assembly. '' We'll meet in Plum Creek in exactly three days, if there are any pertinent developments regarding our grand endeavors.

Otherwise, we ride as always, in twos or threes at the utmost, westward again. And we will not see or make contact with one another; it is devoutly to be hoped, until we reach our next rendezvous point, the site of which all of you should be very well aware of. Company, dismissed.''
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CHAPTER SEVEN

They were back on the trail to California again, these people who'd uprooted their whole lives back east to make this trek. And they were finding it easier in some ways, harder in others,
to keep pressing on with each new day. But it seemed to those who guided them, that like
so many others on this trail before them, these would be settlers had just come through their first 'baptism of fire', better and stronger for it. They were going to reach Plum Creek, tomorrow. This was a place that had started as a Pony Express stop out on the Nebraska prairie, nothing more than that, and now was a small town not that much different from the ones they left behind in Pennsylvania, Indiana, Ohio or Kentucky.

And as the pace of the train picked up again, so did its Wagonmaster's mood, for the most part. Hale's crew had been on their best behavior since leaving Kearney, and Chris didn't mind that one bit. Except it gave him no excuse to call Coop over to finish their sadly interrupted talk. Was his chief scout right? Did he only call Coop or any of the others over when they'd done something wrong? No wonder they acted so skittish sometimes! What kind of antique New England style curmudgeon was he turning into?
Still waiting for word from Fort Kearney's medical officer, Chris knew he couldn't wait very long once he had that 'word' to at least let his crew know the unexpected danger they
faced, now. Hale knew most of his passengers firmly believed they were leaving behind
the corruption and criminality of eastern cities. Now he'd have to decide whether or not to
tell them, it had followed them westwards, into what seemed a clean and clear new land! Human nature wasn't essentially different west of the Alleghenies or the Mississippi, either. Good and bad warred within it, as they always had, the Wagonmaster considered, and always would. And how many of these people told me, when signing up, they wanted or needed ' a fresh start, someplace else' ? Why, if they had no troubles, back east?

''Mister Chris?'' Barney West called out, rushing up to the Wagonmaster, interrupting Hale's reverie. ''Mister Chris, there's a fellow, I mean there's a gentleman, just rode up to the cook wagon. But he said he rode all the way from Fort Kearney Just to talk to you, and not anybody… not anyone else, I mean.''

'' Thanks, Barney.'' Chris said, grinning at the youngster, who seemed to be growing taller everyday, these days, astride his blue roan. ''But where is he?''

''Oh, well that's the other part, I needed to tell you, Mister Chris. This … gentleman he and whooped, the way Duke and Coop do sometimes when they see something that's surprising but good. And then he practically ran up to Miss Kate, when she walked through the camp.
And then he gave Miss Kate the biggest ever hug. Seems like she knows him, cos she pulled back an' then hugged him, right back again. They're talkin' over by her wagon, now. And Mister Chris?'' Barney finished, nearly out of breath.

''What is it, Barney, something else I need to know?'' Chris asked, seeing the boy was excited about something, that wasn't how Kate Crawley hugged a stranger from Fort Kearney.

'' This fellow… sorry, this gentleman, he's one heckuva rider, I have to figure, cos he's only got his right arm!'' the youngster exclaimed, his eyes growing wide at the image.

'' That's likely to mean he fought in the War, Barney. A lot of men lost an arm or a leg, when there was nothing to save their lives but an amputation. So, of course they had to learn to do without, or else to use an artificial limb. And G-d willing you'll never have the chance to learn that at first hand.

Now, let's go find out who this gentleman is, who knows Katie that well. '' Hale said, putting one arm around Barney's shoulder, partly to keep the boy from racing back through camp at the same velocity he'd achieved in looking for the Wagonmaster.

''Sure, Mister Chris. Sure.'' Barney answered, accepting the older man's gesture, partly because he'd noted Hale favoring his left hip again today.
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'' Dr. Jemison Singer, this is my dear friend Chris Hale, who runs this outfit.'' Kate Crawley was saying, a few minutes later. She had one arm companionably around the back of a wiry, compactly built young man, with dark-sandy hair and sharp features, lit by bright grass green eyes. This man dressed like an Eastern nabob's son or grandson, Chris thought, down to the fancy material of his vest and the gold chain going into his watch pocket. But his manner didn't match that label, he was studying Chris now, too, with a keen intelligence in his gaze. His bearing was a soldier's at parade-rest. And his left coat sleeve was tightly folded, and pinned nearly at the shoulder.

''And Chris, this is my young friend Jemmy Singer from Raleigh, the protégé and colleague of another friend of mine from Boston, Thomas Macquillan. I'm afraid I waylaid Jemmy for a little while; when he actually rode up from Kearney to see you, Chris. But I hadn't seen this rascal in nearly four years! And he didn't write me either! So I'm afraid I've taken your name completely off my dance card, Jemmy!''

'' Now you've completely broken my heart, and given great hope to the whole, entire rest of the male population, Miss Crawley, ma'am.'' Singer grinned, and held his hand out to the Wagonmaster.

'' I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Hale. I came up the trail from Kearney with a report I think you've been waiting for. I'm also here to offer and arrange for any additional help you might need. And I rode up to ask if you're the Chris Hale my cousin Cooper Smith is working for, these days.''

'' He is, Jemmy. And just what kind of help does Chris need? And why all of a sudden do I get the impression I'm not supposed to ask either of you gentlemen about this report?'' Kate demanded to know, looking from Singer to Hale and back again.

'' Because, this report was written at Mr Hale's request, that's all, Kate.'' Singer told her. ''And since I wanted to see if Coop was here, I told the officer at Fort Kearney, I'd bring his report with me. Where is that n'er do well Cousin of mine, anyhow?''

''Oh, Coop rode out this mornin' to take another look at the North Platte.'' Barney blurted out, then turned a wide eyed look on Chris. '' Reckon I should have let you answer that, Mister Chris, 'm sorry.''

'' Reckon you should, Barney, but never mind that now. Dr Singer, this impetuous young man is my youngest crew member, Barnaby West.'' Chris tried and failed to frown at the youngster.

''Glad to know you, Barnaby. '' Singer nodded, took Barney's hand and shook it warmly. ''I actually get a letter about every two years from Coop, so I'm pretty sure he mentioned it being really crowded around here as far as competition for his job goes. Figure you're next
in line for chief scout, aren't you?''

Barney was still grinning ear to ear at Chris labeling him a 'young man', but he shook his head vigorously and corrected the Carolinian. '' Me? Oh, no, no, sir. Duke Shannon's a darned fine scout, too. And Bill Hawks, he's our ramrod, Bill can probably ride rings around both Coop
and Duke as far as scoutin' the trail goes.''

'' Then when I get a moment free, Barnaby will you introduce me to the rest of the crew?'' Singer asked.

''Oh, sure!'' Barney nodded, grinning even wider than before. '' Surely, Doctor Singer, I'd be glad to. That surely is a beautiful grey you rode up the line on, a real beauty.''

'' We try hard not to let Prince hear too many of the compliments he gets, Barnaby.'' Singer smiled, taking a conspiratorial tone. '' He'd really like to be a thoroughbred, you see. But
the old fellow's just a sort of Morab with some quirks added by way of the Welsh ponies my grandfather brought over here with him, years ago. So, if you don't mind, I won't tell Prince you were admiring him when we came in.''

''Oh, oh, sure.'' Barney nodded somberly. '' Wanderer, my blue roan, he gets a bit prideful himself, at times. So I can figure what you're sayin', surely. Ummm… Doctor Singer, I was admirin' the way you rode up, too… It was somethin' to see, alright! I was wonderin' if
maybe you'd be with the train long enough to show me how…''
'
Barney!'' Chris exclaimed, frowning in earnest at the youngster, now. ''Apologize for that, right now, young man and go on about your business.''

''Oh gosh! I'm sorry, Doctor Singer, sir! I'm real sorry. I shouldn't have asked about …'' Barney flushed red and chattered on until Singer put his hand on the boy's shoulder,
smiled warmly and looked him right in the eye.

'' It's alright, Barnaby, or do your friends call you Barney? Anyhow, I actually learned that
way of riding, for fun, when I was a … young man, myself. And I can tell you it really drove my folks wild, when I'd ride up that way. And they were well within their rights, 'cause I got thrown a time or two, doing it. So I didn't have much trouble at all, getting back to that. I don't think I really thought about it, much. Lots of fellows came home with one arm or one leg, some with both legs gone. I've got nothing to kick about, and I don't mind talking about it, either. So, never you mind. And don't stop asking questions, either.''

'' Ummm… alright. Reckon I've got some more work to get done. Thanks, Doctor Singer. I'll get back to that harness work now, Mister Chris.'' Barney said and took off like a shot again.

''Well, if you gentlemen will please excuse me.'' Kate said, chuckling as Barney disappeared from sight. '' I have work to get done too. And I won't trouble you about that mysterious report, again, I promise. Not unless my appalling curiosity gets the better of me, that is.''
'' Don't ever, ever change, Kate, please?'' Singer asked, and Hale could tell this was an old routine with them.

'' I have no plans to, certainly not at this late date, Jemmy.'' Kate answered and climbed
back onto her wagon, sitting with her back to both men.

'' I think we've been summarily dismissed, Dr.'' Chris said, shaking his head, leading Singer away. ''My wagon's over this way, and well out of earshot. I'm glad you brought that report. But I doubt I'm going to be glad about whatever it says. You've read it, I suppose?''

'' I did, out of old courier's habits, in case the paper itself were lost. It's not good news,
except I suppose, for the young woman's mother back in Kearney.'' Singer answered, and handed two twice folded sheets of paper to Hale. The Wagonmaster walked the doctor over
to his wagon and read both pages twice before looking at the younger man.

'' I was right, then. Melissa Burke was murdered.'' Chris finally said when he'd tried twice to find a different answer in those pages.

'' According to what you told us, and with Mrs Burke's permission to do an autopsy, that's what we found. Melissa was forced to swallow enough laudanum to stop the breathing of
a man twice her size! '' Jemmy Singer nodded, frowning. '' And she clearly fought her attacker. She undoubtedly fought for her life. WE found several small, but noticeable
defensive wounds on both her hands. That young woman was anything but suicidal the
night she died.''
''So, we know how she was killed. But we have no idea at all by why or by whom!'' Hale
shook his head, throwing the pages down. '' So now I get to tell my crew and probably the calmer, more rational among my passengers that there's been a murder on my train!''

'' Well, that's actually only partly true, Mr. Hale.'' Singer told him. '' I came up here to give you that, and to talk to my cousin Cooper, because there is some evidence to show us
the motive and the people involved in this killing. Melissa Burke was betrothed to a young
man named Aaron Calder, who died three months ago. And Aaron Calder served in the
8th Texas Cavalry, who called themselves Terry's Texas Rangers, during the War.
Well, in the past eighteen months or a little more, twenty other people, men and women who had the similar connections to the 8th have died, the same way Melissa Burke died. They were all poisoned, is one way to put it, with killing doses of either morphine or laudanum. And those are only the cases we're sure of because we were able to do autopsies. There may be as many as ten or fifteen or twenty more we aren't sure of!
And worse than that, we know that ninety men from that regiment, men listed as fit for duty gave their paroles when Joseph Johnston surrendered. And we know that one hundred and fifty eight men of that regiment left before the surrender, for the Trans-Mississippi, to go on fighting there. So we have, in potential, two hundred and eleven men being targeted by these murderers, as well as whatever surviving families they have.'' Singer sighed tiredly and glanced at the Wagonmaster.

Chris was listening to every word, the doctor-agent could tell, and he was coming to another unwelcome conclusion. '' And you wanted to talk to Coop about these murders? Do you believe he has a connection to the 8th?''

'' I don't have to believe it, Mr. Hale. I know. Coop has the same connection to the 8th Texas that I do, our cousin, Jess Harper rode with Terry's Rangers. The difference is, Coop and Jess are as close to being identical as they could be without being twins. And I'm standing here telling you this, and wondering why you don't look surprised by that fact. Have you met our cousin Jess?''

''Not for many years, no, Doctor.'' Hale answered, looking around, hoping his head scout wasn't learning about their past connection this way. '' I last went down to Nacogdoches
when Beth Smith died. And I haven't talked with Coop about that, either. So if you don't mind keeping a confidence, until I get the chance, until there's a time I can let my friend Coop
know his father was also my very good friend, long ago… ''

'' I won't say a word.'' Singer promised. '' Seems like that would be something between you and Coop, now. In any case, I need to finish telling you why I rode up from Kearney. And I don't think you'll like this part much, either, Mr. Hale. I'm going to tell my Cousin Coop he needs to leave your train, if there's any hope of keeping him alive.''

''Because these murderers could easily mistake him for young Jess, I understand that part. But I wish you luck, Dr, convincing Coop to leave, or do much of anything only for his own protection. I think you must already know just how hard a row to hoe you're looking at, there.'' Chris told the doctor.

'' How blasted stubborn, you mean?'' Singer nodded, with a crooked smile. '' That much I know, very well, and have for a long time.''

'' Yes, I'd have to guess you do. Is there anything more you can tell me, Doctor? Is there anything I can do to keep my friend and my passengers safe from what sounds like a pack
of maniacs, running loose out here?''

'' That's the most apt description I've heard, yet. We don't have anything that pins their motive down any closer than a shared connection to Terry's Rangers. Some of my colleagues are back east, trying to chase down records from that time. And of course, the greatest parts of the Confederate Army's records were lost when Richmond burned.

We're working on a number of theories, but none of them seem to fit with the details we
do know. It seemed logical for starters to speculate that these killers have in their number someone who served with the 8th, who's carrying some incredibly bitter grudge. But that doesn't really explain them killing people like young Miss Burke. It could be a family connection, too, we could be dealing with the survivors of one of the Rangers who didn't
make it home. But that doesn't explain the means these killers have to come across country, to kill and get away with such impunity, nor how they have such a supply of morphine and laudanum. And I hate to think any physician is a willing part of this murder scheme.

So I ask myself who have they robbed, or who have they in some way coerced to keep them supplied? And then I ask myself, if they really plan to murder as many people as we fear, how can we begin to protect those former Confederates and their kin? And that's when I start to wish I could fold, and leave this game. But I can't, not when my cousins and my friends, my best friends growing up are both in the midst of this danger. So, here I am, ready and willing to clonk both Coop and Jess over their hard as mahogany noggins, to keep them safe!''
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CHAPTER EIGHT

Coop knew the train would be safely 'tucked in' for the night by the time he rode back into camp. What the scout didn't know was the reason he'd become so restless, in the past few days, so edgy he needed to ride it off. And everytime he'd decided it was one small thing or another, Coop found reasons to argue those 'reasons'.
The train was making at best a slow progress this year, that was one, although Coop knew that problem rode Chris Hale a lot harder than himself. The accidental death of little Willy Burke had thrown a lot of folks on the train 'for a loop', the chief scout included. Little tykes like Willy were generally 'made of India-rubber', thus able to bounce back from almost any hurt or illness.
Coop recalled the same astounding trait in Jeff, who'd shrugged off so many bouts with ear aches, fevers, and so many bruises from roughhousing with his brother, he'd seemed indestructible. And so Jefferson Smith always was, until a gorgeous, flame-haired woman
with the heart of a ruthless …. [ Best not go there, best not ride that trail again.] Coop stopped himself.
[You nigh onta lost yourself on it, last time! And what good did that do Jeff, anyhow? None, that's what! Momma wouldn't have stood for the way you handled that near-fiasco. Daddy wouldn't either, not for an instant, no matter what about Jeff. And what about Jeff? Don't you know by now he's nowhere anything you … or anyone else does or says can touch him? Like that Welshman, that young preacher was saying, certain sure Jeff went running right 'home' like he always did, back in east Texas, dashing right up to Granpa Nate, first thing… hoping for some hard candy! Nope, time to face facts, 'big brother', what you got up to as far as Sandra Cummings was concerned, was only for you and your own helpless anger when Jeff … when Jeff went and got himself shot! Sorry, Jeffy! 'm so awfully sorry!]

But Sandra Cummings, her daughter Paula and their odd little troupe came in and out of Coop's life nearly two years ago, now. So he couldn't saddle them with the antsy, itchy-fingered feeling he had these days. And it surely wasn't because of Chris' ongoing 'close friendship' with Kate Crawley. The scout knew he was over his self-described 'boneheaded' reaction to those two. Chris saw 'Katie' and lit up like a German Christmas tree, every single time. He loved her. Kate saw Chris and smiled just as brightly every single time. She loved him, and cared for Chris, as the Wagonmaster would never do for himself.

[Yeah, and if you knew a woman who read you, who saw you through and through, the way Kate sees Chris, warts and all; and she still loved you that much… How many armies, even armies of your friends would you fight off to hold her? Yeah, reckon you know that answer. ]

None of these matters were riding Coop hard enough to make excuses for another turn
at the trail ahead. And there was nothing to find on that trail he hadn't seen on the first
go, this year. The plains of middle and western Nebraska were dotted with more towns
and homesteads, crossed by more tracks, cut up by more fences than last year.

The way those plains spread, then curved and narrowed, heading west into Wyoming Territory, up into the Laramie and Medicine Bow ranges hadn't changed, Coop figured, in only G-d knew how long. The Platte, and its major branches, North and South were muddied up with more irrigation this year, but in some places still flowed a mile across. Finally, stopping to let Gambler rest and drink from one of the hundreds of streams running off the North Platte, Coop nodded to himself as he found his 'reason'.
The sudden, shocking death of sad, young Lissa Burke, the brief glimpse he got of her lying like a broken alabaster-china doll in her mother's arms, the way it made no sense at all, that was driving him. She was hardly more than a child herself! That was driving him, the same way Jeff's death at nineteen had. And that, clearly was still driving Coop, the same way the deaths of so many other boys, not just in his own 1st Texas, but everywhere he looked, everywhere anyone looked, all through the war, drove him.

[ Yeah… and how many hundreds, how many thousands of other fellows, is that angry, helpless, uprooted feeling still driving? It surely drove me away from everything I grew up knowing and loving and thinking I'd hold to… always. It drove me out here, where at least
the whole countryside isn't marked with graves and ashes, isn't stained with tears and blood.]
''Okay, big fellow,'' Coop said, chuckling to Gambler as he mounted the big sorrel gelding. '' I've got the burr under my saddle worked loose and out, now. Don't know what more there's to do about it. Maybe Chris will. Guess I'm no wiser on this score than Barney is, after all. I can't think what …''

In the next instant, someone leapt at Coop from behind, knocking him and his attacker off
the gelding onto the stream-bank. The scout twisted to get out of this heavy-set stranger's grasp, and reached for his revolver. But now three men were on him, one pinning each of Coop's arms, hard to the ground, the other unbelting his gunbelt entirely, laughing as he untied the thong that held it to Coop's right leg, and pulled the whole belt away. A fourth, lankier man stood at Gambler's side, as Coop fought the two holding him, lifting the scout's rifle from its scabbard. Then he shouted and slapped the gelding hard on it's left flank. That signal from a man, even if not its own particular man, meant 'run like blue blazes', which the big horse did.

'' Who are you? And what in the devil, besides strandin' me out here, do you want?'' Coop shouted, staring up at this fourth figure, wondering why not one of his attackers had said a word. They seemed almost uniformed, all wearing long trail-riders dusters and cavalry slouch hats, and the first three all seemed to defer to this fourth one.

''Just you.'' a fifth man answered, stepping out of the dusk shadows like some kind of ghost,
in a voice cold enough to freeze a prairie fire. '' That's all.''

'' Yeah. And it was real helpful-like,'' the second man, a bright-eyed, sandy-haired youth really, holding Coop's right arm down laughed cheerily. '' Real helpful of y', ridin' away from
all those nosey, worthless, sod-busters on that there train, like y'done. we were runnin' behind on our grand ol' endeavors… But now ye put us way ahead of schedule! Ain't that awfully sweet an' obligin' of him, fellas?'

''Shut your damn flappin' jaw, before I shut it for you, youngster!'' the darker, compactly-built older man on Coop's left arm hissed. ''He ain't got any need to hear that!''

'' Y'all don't need to be in such a uproar, boy.'' the very tall, very strongly built man
who'd knocked Coop down suggested, grinning, tilting his head and peering down at the
scout. ''He hain't gonna be doin' much if any talkin'. Fact, he hain't goin' nowhere, not
till we send him… anyhow.''

[ Well, that didn't sound very promising.] Coop considered, glancing from one man to another, looking at the odds against him. '' Look if you wanted some cash, fellas, you should've kept my horse here, in fact, you should've kept my horse…''

The big man laughed and slammed one very large fist into Coop's face, laughing more as Coop's mouth and nose bled some. '' Who asked you anythin', Harper?'' he asked, and plainly, he did not want an answer.

[ Harper?! What in blue blazes has Jess gotten us into this time? I don't think these fellas
are only lookin' you up to swap war stories, Cousin! Fact of the matter, I don't think this youngster's much older than Barnaby!] Coop considered, tasting the salt of his own blood
and suddenly glad he hadn't had supper.
[Well, I don't like the looks of these fellows much, Jess. But they don't seem to know how some folks think we look alike, so I'm definitely not settin' them on your trail. There are only five of them; after all, I can still slip away… at some point. The train's not even a half-mile up the trail from here… Yeah, it'll be alright, Jess. But, dang it anyway, Cousin, I think it officially just stopped bein' fun, havin a look-alike!]

'' Stand up.'' the fifth man, who seemed in charge here told Coop now. The scout knew
his chin was jutting about a mile by now. His temper was climbing like a fever, too. He'd
never cottoned much to taking orders, unless from someone he greatly respected. Not
too many folks ever made that list. And this tall, thin, cold-eyed stranger wasn't among them.

''He said, stand up.'' the compact-built, tough looking man on his left growled. And then
he made what Coop had to take for his mistake and the scout's main chance. He released Coop's arm. The scout twisted away from the youngster's grip on his right arm. Then he ran,
head down into the order-giver, butting him flat on his bony backside, Coop hoped like hell.
Would 'cold-eye's' cadre help him up or just boil back up the trail after 'Jess'? Coop didn't know and wasn't about to stop and ask. Instead he dived towards the little stream, got up, and ran down its length another four or five good yards. Then, he realized his real trouble.

A quartet of riders sat their mounts directly in front of him, with four gleaming rifles fixed on Coop, as the first five came up behind him. This could become a problem.

The train was three fourth's of a mile back up the trail, Gambler might reach the circle up, or at least the picket line there at any moment, and riderless. That would certainly cause whoever had the watch tonight to take notice. And that could mean help on the way, soon.
That could also mean his friends riding into this exact same trouble. Coop hoped Duke, or
Bill, who were most likely to ride this way in such a case, first took some thought and some precautions. Some sort of waiting game needed to be played here. Some sort of bluff, one that didn't involve telling these friendly folks they had the wrong cousin here, was definitely called for. Now Coop put both hands up, as high as his arms would stretch. Both his arms were a tad bit sore right now, and so was he. But he swallowed on that and turned a wide eyed grin on the newcomers.

'' Do I owe you fellas some money that I plumb forgot about?'' Coop asked, shrugging in
what he knew was a very Jessian-manner.

''You owe us nothing.'' one of the newcomers said and Coop's jaw nearly dropped into the creek-bed. This speaker, wearing a slouch hat and duster just as the rest did, handling a stallion and a rifle with evident, practiced ease was a woman! '' I see you at least know to remove your hat in the presence of a lady.'' she then laughed, in a way that made Coop's spine turn to ice.

'' I was raised by a very strict mother, aunt , and grandmothers, ma'am to respect all womankind at all times, and under all conditions.'' Coop agreed, nodding. His hat was back
where he'd left his bedroll and kit. But there was no reason, yet, for him to contradict her.

'' Yes, yes, your maternal grandmother being one Meredydd Traherne Cooper of Louisville and later, Nacogdoches, your paternal grandmother was a Northern girl, though, I believe, from Frederick, Maryland, Maryellen… Clement was her maiden name… No, wait, wait… I think I may have that incorrectly…
Oh, now I recall the truth of the matter, it was your grandfather, Elias Alexandre Harper who was born in Mon'real and immigrated to Maryland as a small boy. And he did in fact, yes, now I have it right, he did marry a young woman who …lived for a time in St Bernard's Parish, near N'Olins. Her name … was given to me as Mirielle Anastaise Meraud Clement …Harper. I'm not quite clear on where she was born, or whom her people were, but surely she was … to some extent, a Southron girl. And your late mother was Jennifer Meredith Cooper Harper. Your maternal aunt, her sister, who partly raised you and your two surviving siblings, after your parent's tragic deaths, was Elisabeth Micaela Cooper Smith. So, perhaps we needs must excuse your lapses in proper behavior, Harper, with your paternal grandfather not being Southron at all, which would mean that you are not truly Southron, yourself. Perhaps. Yes, perhaps, that's the case, with you, Harper. Do you think so?''

Coop bristled, he'd heard this 'charge' against Jess, a time or two before now, mostly in school while growing up. And he wasn't sure if this oddly dressed, oddly regal woman really wanted him to answer her. So he waited, giving her only another shrug.

'' Ah, you are well-mannered!'' she exclaimed, almost giggling. '' You have my leave to answer my question now, Harper.''

'' No, ma'am. I don't think there's anything about where she was born that changes the core truth about my Granma Miri, my Daddy's momma. She was a real lady, you see. And so it wouldn't have made any difference if she'd been born in Frederick, N'Olins or in Raleigh or in some gutter anywhere else in the whole, entire world. And, b'sides, she died when I was two and a half, ma'am.'' Coop said, carefully amending his own age to Jess'. [How does she know as much as she does, and still these guns of hers mistook me for Jess?]

''How very sad. I believe I did come across that distressing fact and quite set it aside in my mind as simply too sorrowful to dwell on. One must learn from the past, after all, and yet live in the present, mustn't one, Harper?'' she asked, sounding as if she were in a Sunday parlour with a picture album, somewhere, instead of a streambed with a rifle.

'' Don't see as how one has much choice on that, ma'am.'' Coop answered, cocking his head, trying to see more of her face below the full brimmed hat.

'' No, one would suppose one doesn't. Well, with that well settled, I'll say farewell, now, Harper. I may possibly see you again. Yes, I think that's a strong possibility. I strongly doubt, though, that you'll see me. Gentlemen, please, go on about your business.'' the woman said, as if she were telling her maid to ring for tea, then turned her stallion and rode away from the seven men now surrounding Coop.

''Turn around.'' 'cold-eyes' told him.

He was in much more trouble now. Now this icy fellow was angry. And Coop knew he could only improve his chances by taking some. '' And just why should I?'' he asked, otherwise ignoring the man stepping up behind him.

''Because you were told to. Because I was told to go about my business. And that's the
way things work around here. We all do as we're told. That's the only way thing work
here.'' 'cold-eyes', who Coop did not know as Solomon Howell, answered.

'' Then I reckon things ain't gonna go on workin' so well around here.'' Coop snarled, and swung at the rail thin 'boss-man', connecting a strong left hook to his squarish jaw. Howell went down into the stream with a resounding splash. Coop didn't' run now, he was too mad for that. He had something to prove. Something about hired guns like these, if that's what they were, not being allowed to talk trash about his family, he supposed. And there were still nearly too many of them, three mounted. And now, the whole streambed echoed with the sound of six rifles being cocked all at once.

'' I was told to take charge, here.'' 'cold-eyes' shouted to the other six men, standing up again. ''And that is precisely what I mean to do.''

'' Well, come ahead, then!'' Coop dared him, his temper up, his nerves all but dancing. ''What's keepin' you, boy?'', judging 'cold-eyes' to be his own age, or a tad bit older. And
the word by itself was deadly insult enough in some places, the scout knew full well, to
earn the man who used it some serious grief. 'Cold eyes' swung at the scout, angrily,
and wildly. Coop felt like laughing in his turn, but saved his breath.
He needed it. This boss-man was exactly as slick and as vicious with his own fists as he
looked to be. They fell into the stream and got up, beat on each other and fell again and wrestled there. Coop knew a couple 'injun-tricks' that no Indian ever taught him, and made good use of what he knew about using another man's height or weight against him. The boss-man knew how to throw a well aimed sucker-punch, and the scout knew how to twist away from one. Coop knew, and usually forbore to use tactics such as aiming slamming blows at a man's kidneys. His opponent, however, had no such qualms. Coop's lower back felt as if
it was on fire.

'' Working for these Yankee bastards has you real softened up these days, don't it, Harper?'' the boss-man sneered.

''Not so I've noticed, not so they've noticed, either, boss-man.'' Coop scowled. '' Does workin' for a madwoman make you any softer? Does it?''

'' You're not the only man in the world that learned to respect a lady, growing up, Turncoat!''

Coop's eyes narrowed. He knew Jess'd made peace with riding dispatch from one Union fort to another towards the end of the war and just after. He knew some 'purely Southron' types like these would never make or find any peace with those years, and some Yankees too, for that matter. [ But most folks wanted, and still want it over. Hell! Most folks wanted it over nearly as soon as it began, for G-d's sake! ] '' My coat's the same as ever, boss-man! And I never needed to hide it under a damn duster, either! Also, and I know you boys, riding the trails out here, might not have heard about this: The damn-all War's over!''

''For some people, mebbee'' the big man yelled before his boss could answer. ''For all th' turncoats, little Yankee whores, traitors, nigger-and damn-Yankee lovers, mebbee! Not for
any true Southrons, not for us, it hain't over!''

''Who's asking you anything, big boy?'' Coop yelled back.

This man, easily as tall or taller than Duke and heavier, now rushed at Coop, his wide face flushed, his fists cocked, clearly eager to pummel the scout.

''Not yet.'' 'cold eyes' told him, though and he retreated, frowning.

''Don't keep all the fun for yerself, though!'' one of the other men, the youngest one, shouted. '' You been havin' all the fun altogether too often, lately, boy!''

'' I do what I'm told.'' Howell answered, glaring at the speaker, and the other five men. ''I follow orders, when they're given. And I get those things done that most need doing, a whole lot more often than you lot, put together! Do any of you boys dast deny that? No, you damn well don't! I go after traitors, turncoats and damn-Yankee lovers along with their bastards, all the time, five, ten times more than you lot has the dang nerve to! And I never came close to bein' caught! No, sir! I get who I go after, and I take 'em down, I take 'em off th' roll! Nothin' and no one has got in my way, so far, not and lived to tell the tale! And nothin' and no one will ever stop me!''

Coop stared at their boss, then glanced around at the others. Was their boss-man admitting they'd done murder? And if so, how could Jess be one of their targets? And if so, how was Coop going to get away from these 'fun loving' killers with his own life? And how was he going to warn his cousin? First he had to get past 'cold-eyes'.

'' I wouldn't be quite so sure of that, boss-man.'' Coop challenged him bringing that dark, icy gaze back to him again. '' It's not quite so un-civilized out in these parts anymore that a man won't still hang for murder. Most folks seem to insist on that. Reckon you and your boys and that lady must not worry much about going to prison for decades, or else facing
the gallows.

Now, it ain't always the gallows, though. I hear up in Utah, the Mormons like to put a man guilty of murder up in front of firing squad, 'stead of on the end of a hangman's knot. Quicker that way, too, unless they only manage to shoot you in the gut. Reckon you all saw boys
gut-shot in the war, didn't you? Pretty bad way to go, takes days, sometimes weeks. Yeah, pretty bad way.'' Coop shook his head and glanced back at the youngest of the men, once more. Then he shook his head yet more sadly and looked away, again.

'' Reckon you don't have worry about any of those things, Harper.'' The boss told him. ''Reckon mebbee you should be worried about me, though. And after me, my fellows.
I don't mean to have all the fun, this time. I don't mean to rush things, either. So you
might think about saving your breath, while you've got it to save!''

''Now, hold on!'' Another of the men called out, and as Coop had hoped, got off his big overo stallion. '' You're pretty much exaggerating things, aren't you?'' He asked, striding over to stand between the combatants. This was a whip-thin, muscular, young man with strong Spanish Creole features, wide dark brown eyes that seemed to take up half his face, and a high strung manner. At first, the scout thought this speaker was addressing him, but he turned to glare at the boss, which made Coop quickly swallow a taut smile.

''Exaggerating? What precisely do you think I'm exaggerating?'' 'cold eyes' demanded.

'' Well, just for starters, how much more you do, how much more you get done than the
rest of us.'' his challenger answered. '' And then, I'd have to say you're getting a bit carried
away, and a bit immodest, too, about what you're supposed to be in charge of; and what you're supposed to be doing, right now, today. We were all told what we're to do. And we're all ready and willing to do our part, here, same as always. But we're not to do any more than that, and you know it!''

''Is that all?'' the boss asked calmly, as if inquiring about the price of a meal or the list of supplies needed.

''Almost all.'' the Creole answered. ''There was just one more thing. I'd really be more careful, if I were you, about letting troublesome fellows like this gringo stir up trouble amongst us. Because that's just what he's trying to do, and you don't even seem to hear him!''

''Oh, I heard him. I just don't give a flying damn what he says. '' Howell told the Creole,
a man he disliked, but whom their leaders trusted, called Tyler Pierce, in most places.

'' Fine. Then you also don't give a flying damn that he's actually getting through to the boy, over there. Fine. Great. Go on then. Don't let me stop you making a complete disaster of what we were told to make a simple job of work, por favor, El Senor padron.'' 'Pierce' nodded and bowed, touching his forehead like the very image of a peon.

''Stop this Pierce. And stop it now, d'ye hear?'' Howell told him. ''We still have that job of work to get done here.''

''Si, Si, Senor padron. Esti apesadumbrado. Muy apesadumbrado.'' the Creole scowled,
and took a step closer to Coop. Then, in a bitterly mocking voice he began to seemingly upbraid and disparage the Texan. '' El orador no entiende una palabra de español, ninguno de los muchachos aqui ahora hacer. Pero, un amigo mutuo, Dr. Jemison Singer, cuya madre era su madre primo, Jessamyn, me envoi aqui para ayudar a poner fin a estos asesinos, y eso es lo que quiero decir ahora, y con sequir haciendo. Asi que you el gran favor de actuar insultado gravemente, al tiempo que me dice esto.''

Coop cocked his head and then frowned grimly at the Creole, just barely nodding to show he understood he was being given a veiled message. The Creole then went on, still in Spanish.

'' I'm here to stop these fellows' rampage, I can't actually get you away from them. But I can and I will stop them short of killing you, as they have more than twenty others. Also, I can and I will keep you from meeting with that madwoman again. It would not go well with you; not well at all, friend, if you did. When you see our mutual friend again, you need to tell him this; These bastards are under that madwoman's orders, and she has ordered them to do truly horrific things, including murder. I have learned she has a true vendetta against Mister Harper, something to do with her younger brother's death.
And this braggart over here, he's deadly dangerous, as you can surely tell. And as I said before, he likes to exaggerate his own importance and his own deeds. And he likes to assume command when he has no right to it, as he seems to be doing, again, today. He truly likes to kill. Yes, he's also quite crazy... And if he gets the chance my friend, he will kill you and your cousin. Not only because he may be ordered to do so, but because you've not made him very happy, today
The last person he killed was a young mother you may have known, Her only fault, according to these killers, was with the man she loved and wished to marry, Mister Smith, yes, I know your name, Jemmy made sure I knew of the family resemblance, also he told me which of his cousins and friends is in Nebraska presently, and which one is not.
Do you understand me, please say no, quite loudly and angrily, and as I said, please act
as though I just made some sort of reference to your sainted mother. Thank you. I'm sorry,
I can't help you further, in fact, I'll likely have to let these men hurt you rather badly or I
will be found out and they will continue their madness...Do not repeat this aloud, if you please, my friend, repeat this only to Doctor Singer, I am one of his associates, and despite what you may or may not hear from these madmen, my name is not Tyler Pierce, my name is Teo Bracamante. And Doctor Singer has been my friend and mentor since the last year of the late War.''

'' Don't dare say that again, damn you!'' Coop growled, just barely nodding his understanding of the Creole's warning, ready to land a haymaker guaranteed to take the Creole off his feet. '' Nobody says that about my mother! She's been dead and gone nearly twenty years, now! Don't you dare say anything about her, you…''

The Creole only grinned mischievously and clipped Coop on the jaw, so well the scout was the one knocked to the ground, or actually, back into the water. The whole group, except for their boss laughed heartily at that, and Coop wondered if the man's face would crack in pieces if he tried smiling. There wasn't any time to find out. Coop's mind was whirling at what he'd just found out. These laughing bastards really were murderers… twenty or more times over! And they had every intention of coming after Jess Harper. Added to those ideas were his cousin Jemmy Singer's involvement, and the murder of Lissa Burke, to boot!

''Shut up.'' the boss man told Coop, and as the scout stood again, followed that with a punch to his gut that sent Coop backwards, sprawling. [ No fair, I was busy bein' thrown for a loop about all these murders!]

'' No, you shut up! He was talkin' about my mother!'' Coop raged. The young Creole was damned brave and damned honest. There was no easy way out of this tangle, now. And where was Jemmy Singer, anyway, these days? In Frederick, doing his doctoring, or in Washington, Boston, Chicago or New Orleans, looking out for the real nabobs, or in Raleigh, or in San Antonio, or Nacogdoches, for that matter, just visiting kin there? The man never seems to keep still a moment, he never has. But the way the young Creole talked, that ever-busy Tar Heel had to be somewhere close by these days. Why hadn't he warned Jess? Or had he?

''I said, shut it!'' Howell ordered, and matched a vicious kick or two to his angry words.
'' You just said she's long dead, didn't you?''

Coop rolled away from the man's sharp-toed boots and made himself stay down a minute,
still working on what he'd learned. Groaning loudly then, he got up and made as if he'd still
go after the Creole, swearing to give him some real trouble.

'' You're getting things kind of mixed up, now, Harper.'' the boss said, shaking his head. '' We're the ones giving out all the trouble here. You're the one getting it, from us. Seems
like you're just not paying attention. And I was having so much more fun, acting like this was going to be a fair fight. Rope him.''

One lariat, then another and then a third swung over Coop's head now before he could move.
He was bound hand and foot, with allowances left for possible hog-tying, in another minute. No gag, though, not yet. They weren't worried he'd yell his head off… Except the boss-man didn't seem to like yelling. Help might be pounding up the trail towards him now, and it might not be. Gambler was a good fellow, strong, sure-footed, fast, and dependable as sunset and sunrise. But when last seen, the gelding was also hungry and thirsty. So was Coop. Nothing for it, now, but to break away from these killers, if he could. The scout didn't doubt his skill at getting out of tight situations. He also didn't doubt these murderers would ride right after him should he leave their 'company', right to the train!
[ Okay, bad idea. Don't let bad guys who like killing innocent young women ride back
after you where they can get at your friends and a few hundred other innocents just like
Lissa Burke! Stay here, make them waste some of their time. This is going to really
hurt. You can thank me another time, Jess. Cause you're going to really owe me.]

''This isn't my idea of how to treat a guest, fellows.'' Coop said, looking at his bonds.

'' You're not a guest, here. You're our job for today, remember?'' the boss told him. ''And
I'm not done with my share of the work yet. You don't want the other boys to have to
pick up my slack, do you?''

''Course not.''

''Fine. Great.'' the boss said jabbing Coop's still aching gut a few more times. ''Now we're getting somewhere, mebbee. No questions, Harper? No curiosity? What, have all these Yankees drummed that out of you? I heard you were always the eager one, always the first
to ask what kind of devilment, commotion or other trouble you could make for the Yankees.
I heard you were only sixteen when you signed onto the 8th Texas, and really full of beans, back then. Somebody knock the stuffing, or the beans right out of you, did they, Harper?''

'' Fifteen.'' Coop corrected him, grunting. '' I was fifteen when I signed on with Terry's Rangers. And I guess we made or stirred up enough devilment, alright. We made some first at Pittsburgh Landing and then all the way east to Atlanta! Made some stops at Chickamauga and Murfreesboro, and Franklin, too. Guess you didn't hear about those. Why? Who'd you ride with?''

''None of your damn business.'' Howell answered, and punched even harder, this time, dropping Coop to his knees in the stream.

''With nobody, then. I get it. Real brave fellow, aren't you, boss-man?'' Coop couldn't
keep himself from asking, groaning and glaring at the man. ''Specialize in beating men
bound up hand and foot, do you?''

Now the murderers' boss hauled Coop back onto his feet, and glared at him a long, and genuinely scary moment. Coop glared right back, chin out, mouth taut, eyes sparking. This guy was definitely muy loco, but the scout wasn't about to give him an inch of ground, while he could help it.

'' A lot of boys we here knew rode with the 8th, Harper. A lot of them got left at Pittsburgh Landing and all those other high spots. A lot of fine, brave, true-hearted Southron boys got
left all over the map back then.
But I don't figure anyone who came home whole has anything to brag on. All that means to me is they knew better how duck and run.'' Lissa's murderer hissed at him.

'' You think whatever you like, mister. The war's still over. And it has been for going on
eight or nine years now. Guess some of us would rather fight new fights. Guess some of
us are looking for a fight we can win, and not wonder if we should've. Bobbie Lee and Joe Johnston both signed the Armistice, back in the '65, y'know? I always figured if those two old warhorses, said to quit th' fightin'… I'd surely go along with them.''

''Jeff Davis would've never quit the fight! He'd be fightin' on, now, today if anybody had listened to him!'' 'cold eyes' almost shrieked.

''Yeah, that's what I heard, too.'' Coop nodded. '' And just think, if we'd done it that way, boys! Just think! How many more fine, brave, true-hearted Southron boys could be left stacked up like cordwood, everywhere you look by now!''

''So you are a Turncoat, after all, Harper. You are a traitor to the Cause. I knew you'd
admit it, soon or late. I knew you would. And here's a starting taste of what we give to traitors!'' the boss threw Coop off his feet, back into the water, and started back up kicking. As hard as he could, the murderer kicked Coop in the side, in the back, in the head, in the back of his head as Coop tried to maneuver away from the blows. The scout rolled in the water, that was feeling better and better as his body responded to its injuries with a rising heat. But when Coop thought this would turn out to be the biggest part of the lunatic's repertoire, he found himself pulled up and thrown down or punched in the face, in the gut,
and even more painfully, in the small of his back.
Now Coop felt something immensely hard striking at the back of his head. Fireworks didn't begin to describe the painful colors and lights before his eyes for the next long moment. Somehow turning or being turned, he saw their source, through the lights and colors, a
rifle butt, being wielded much more as if it were a baseball bat. Stunned, Coop looked up and held back a shudder. He was soaked through to his skin now, and getting cold but that wasn't the reason. What he saw plainly now was that this icy fellow would be just as glad to kill Coop outright, laying here, as to let his cohort join in, as to follow whatever orders he might have been given by 'esa loca'. They'd never laid eyes on each other, as of less than an hour ago, and this man was ready and willing to kill the scout, thinking he was killing Jess.

The chief murderer seemed in a kind of frenzy now, as Coop had seen happen to men in battle. He wasn't looking at Coop's face, he wasn't listening to Coop's gasps, or his occasional taunts, either. He was only raining blows, with his fists, his feet and Coop wasn't sure what else, on the scout's wiry frame. He seemed unaware that he was striking another human being. He was just as crazed as the woman! Coop stared at this eager, manic killer and shivered.
Then the boss-man gave some wordless signal and as bad as things already were, they took a sharp turn for the much worse. First one, then two, then four, two again and then three at a time the others joined in the 'fun'. Apparently the boss had done all he cared to, or used up his quota or some such; and so at least, now there were only six attackers. And they were all a lot fresher, coming to the 'fight' then Coop Smith was.
A kind of fury, a desperate kind, informed the scout's every thought now. These eager killers were just plain enjoying it too much! Dizzy and sick with blows from every direction. He knew these men might not be as crazed as the woman or their boss-man. But they were perfectly willing to do as those maniacs told them. Coop's face was cut and bleeding now, and a bit numb. His eyes were swelling shut on him. Any minute now, Coop knew, he'd be face down in the water. His arms were aching and weary. His breathing was hard and painful. His legs, especially the right one that he worried might be re-broken, were giving up the struggle again to hold him upright.
And then he fell, and lay sprawled in the streambed, only just able to turn his head enough
so he wasn't drowning. His back was to the killers, exposed to any weapon they came up
with. He couldn't move, much less well or fast enough to so much as turn his side to
them. But Coop was also losing a lot of his understanding, now, slipping in and out of
being conscious. Blurs of color and light moved around him.
A lot of somethings seemed to be touching him that he could just barely feel, now. A lot of the noise, anger, pain and fear of the past few minutes was slipping out of his grasp, as well. He had no more strength, and less and less will to hold it. He was losing… something. He was losing, letting go.. No! He was being pulled from every handhold, every foothold. He was struggling against a sudden, impossible undertow! Something strange and close around him and suffocating was taking over all his limbs. Something sharp and bitter as his worst, his darkest dreams, was wrapping itself around each of his senses. A freezing fog from G-d alone knew what or where was settling on his mind, on his thoughts, and somehow on his breathing, and whatever it's source, he only knew it would surely, easily destroy him.

Another change he couldn't control or fight off, and only that sharpness remained with him.
It was touching him, and touching to screaming, frantic, conversely paralyzing, panicked life every fiery nerve, for an endless succession of tortured breaths. It was shortening each breath into those taken at a mountaintop, clear and frigid and far too thin. It was killing him, and
he couldn't' say any longer whether by drowning, by freezing or by suffocating. And its nature, it's sharpness and it's destructive hold were all things he knew, or things he might have known, recognized or recollected, from somewhere, eons ago.
He couldn't have stood up now, not to save his own immortal soul, or anybody else's so how could he be falling, the reeling, whirring mind of the man face down in the wondered? He couldn't draw breath enough to whisper, so how could he be screaming now? He couldn't be blinded, deafened, paralyzed, without realizing that kind of injury, so how could he be where there was no light, no sound, and no hope of movement?
He was all but numb now, everywhere, which should have been a relief from pain shooting through his ribcage, his limbs, his back and neck. It wasn't. In fact, it terrified the scout.
At least the pain told him unmistakably he was still alive, still this side of Glory, or Perdition, depending on whether you asked his friends or foes. Absurdly, the scout began to recall, almost to hear his namesake grandfather Nathaniel Kieran Cooper, in his home church' pulpit, preaching on the subject of his firm belief in Predestination. The destined end of every living soul ever created, that text ran, was long since written and unalterably, by the hand of the Almighty. The Saints were marked out, and Saved Eternally, the Damned were likewise Always and Forever Lost.

[ But which am I, Grampa?] Coop heard his child-self asking the old man, who was as gentle with his grandchildren as he was harsh with his congregants. [ Can you see how I'm marked down, Grampa? Can you see for Momma, or Jeffy, Daddy, for Jess, Cousin Frank or Aunt Jenn? Where'm I to go, Grampa? An' why was I marked th' one way or t'other? ]

[ Only He Who writes in that Eternal Book can see those things, Cooper-Little ] the old man said, but in his kindest voice. [ And that is truly one of His Greatest Mercies, grandson. For if we knew, life-long what our end was, how could we keep our spirits, the spark of His Sacred Spirit alive within us, from condescension on the one hand, or from desolation on the other?
It's not given us to understand the mind of the Almighty, Cooper. Nor would we wish to. We can only rely on His Word, and do the best we may.
He doesn't wish us to fear Him, grandson, that's not what Fear of the Lord means a bit. No, He wishes us to accept that we are not, nor could we ever be the true Power in the Universe He made, and accepting that, accepting His Hand in our lives, we best do His Will. Now, don't worry yourself over such vast things, grandson. You see, to my way of thinking that's the whole point of the 'argument'.
We are like Children, compared to the Almighty, always. And like children, we please Our Father most by trusting in His Sacred Judgment, in His Holy Will. Now, run on along, Cooper. Run on up the hill and tell your momma and your Aunt Jenny I'll be there directly, will you? Run on, now, grandson, it's one of the gifts of Youth to be fleet of foot and unerring in their footpaths. It's one of the gifts of Age to be slow and steady, whilst heading for the ribbon. That's it, Cooper, run on up and hug your momma. I'll be there directly… I will…]

[ I'm goin', Grampa, I am! ] the child answered, started running, then turned and fiercely hugged his grandfather. [ Thanks, Grampa. I'm goin', now]

Suddenly, some kind of high, rackety, furious noise Coop couldn't understand, and
almost couldn't hear was filling the air above the stream. Some other growling, rumbling
noise responded to it. The racket came back and that seemed to settle the growling's hash
for it. A pounding, that shook the streambed and the bank and the wider world around it took the place of both growling and racket. But it was moving away from the man in the water.
And that man, Cooper Smith, was no longer sure if that noise moving away was good or bad. He wasn't sure in fact if he'd truly heard it. He wasn't sure of much at all, right this minute, really.
In that sudden lack of noise, part of Coop's dizzied brain tried to think, tried to figure what just happened. That was too much trouble now. It only made his head and the whole, entire rest of his body ache, just trying. Laying in the shallow water, the scout began to lose even the sense of where he was, or why he might be there, cold right through to his bones and
very tired. But there was … there had been a reason… It only made him even sicker and dizzier trying to recall what that reason might be, though.

When a new pounding shook him and the streambed, Coop hardly knew it. When new noises that were low and easing, warm and compelling reached him, the scout barely responded. He had no idea at all, now, if these noises were better or worse than the others. They weren't going to make him move again, were they, not when he was so well numbed up now, and so awfully weary? They weren't going to strike him again, were they, or make more of that painful, ringing, racket, not when he was just finding a quiet place to lay still and … Wait, his battered brain said. There it is again. There's that plaguing, wearisome, fogged in 'reason'. Feeling dizzy again, as somethings seemed to turn him on his back, his wearied mind pushed with it's last bit of will for now and brokenly, he spoke 'the reason'.

'' took … for Jess… want t' … kill … t' kill Jess.'' Coop whispered, in roughly the direction
of these new, softer noises. The new noises and somethings touching him seemed to know what he was saying, what he was talking about. The beaten, half drowned man was no longer sure he knew. But the new, warmer, much less painful sounds around him rose and fell in such a comfortable way, they were surely better, saner, finer, wiser ones than those others.
And now these new sounds had the reason. So, now he could just lay and drift, as if still in
the water. And so he did, or started to do. But a dimming part of his brain was saying there were yet some other, different but vital 'reasons' he needed, very badly to get hold of, to push out of his whirling head, into sounds, because these new, warmer, kindlier sounds also needed them.
He just couldn't remember why that would be; anymore than he recognized, just now, the two men crouching next to him, as men at all, much less as Duke Shannon and Jemmy Singer. And try as he might, the terribly beaten man could only keep hold of one of these other 'reasons' for staying among the whirring sounds and blurred shadows, lights and colors.
'' same… bas.. .ki…killed … Lissa, Teo… said … t' tell…Jem…'' Coop managed to
whisper hoarsely, and fell again, but now into a soft, dark, warm and welcoming quiet.

''Ah, G-d, Coop!'' Jemmy Singer groaned softly, shaking his head as Duke lifted Coop from
the stream as easily and gently as if the chief scout were an infant. '' Why didn't I ride up here yesterday, or a week, or a fortnight ago, Cousin?''

''Coop's going to need all you can do for him now, Doctor Singer.'' Duke advised. '' He's damn lucky they didn't kill him, outright! Damn them! If Gambler hadn't run right into the circle up the way he did… ''

'' Let's not even go there; and please, call me Jemmy. Doctor Singer … was my great uncle, Mister….''

''Jemmy, and its Duke.'' The tall blond scout stopped him. ''Mr. Shannon was my grandfather. Let's get on back. Chris is already pacing. Next Bill will start, and then Charlie!''

''And that would be a bad thing?''

''Really bad, only thing worse would be if Barney, Kate and I all start pacing with 'em.''
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translation of Spanish conversation:

Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. Very sorry.

He doesn't understand a word of Spanish, none of the boys here now do. But a mutual friend, Dr. Jemison Singer, whose mother was your mother's cousin, Jessamyn, sent me here to help stop these murderers, and that's what I mean to now, and to go on doing. So do me the very great favor of acting gravely insulted, while I get this said.

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