The horse tore through the landscape, its hooves pounding the sandy dirt north to Colorado Springs. Glancing behind him, the riders pursuing him closed in the distance quicker than he anticipated.

A bullet zipped by his head, ricocheting off a boulder. Thunder cracked overhead unleashing a torrent of water and a gnarled hand of lightning snaked across the sky ahead of him.

“I don’t wanna be sober for this,” Quint groused under his breath.

Whipping out his pistol and leaning back careful not to lose his balance, he took a shot at the man to the left. The man crumpled off the back of his horse, lying flat on the ground while the horse reared in panicked confusion. The posse of riders huddled closer together, barreling for him.

Quint slowed his horse, turning to face the oncoming gang. His left hand reached around, grabbing his right shoulder. Bringing up his pistol, he rested it on the crooked elbow, aiming another shot at the man on the left.

His bullet fired as another gun cracked and, struck the man in the chest. The man on the horse didn’t fall, lying flat back and dead in the saddle; the horse charging forward. Quint watched the man’s body flop, a bullet caught him in the left thigh.

Quint winced, moving his horse to face the shooter, stopping to shout above the rain, wind and thunder. “I’d stop there, Charlie Hilbert.”

Charlie reined in his mount, fifty yards from him. “Quint Morris, we meet again. Sadly, you always seem to choose the wrong side.”

The other rider with Charlie reined in a few feet behind him. She leaned over, adjusting her skirting in the stirrups and pulled her hat lower on her face. Quint’s horse shook under him. Rain cascaded over his face. Quint wiped the river of water out of his eyes and off his nose. Lightning’s yellow tendrils reached out over the blackened sky to his right; the storm moving quickly west.

“Not this time,” Quint shot back.

Charlie laughed. “The woman you’re allowing to get away hid a great deal of money; money you could have a cut of.”

Quint pulled the hammer back on his pistol hoping the storm would hide the click and let the loaded firearm rest on his good thigh. His anxious stallion pranced in the goopy soil. Quint pulled the reins, keeping his heels to the ground. The animal snorted, irritated.

“We don’t have to end this way, Quint,” Charlie called over the din of thunder. “We can work together.”

“I’ve no intention,” Quint replied.

“Too bad,” Charlie said, firing his pistol.

The bullet whizzed by his ear. Bringing his pistol up, Quint fired blindly in reaction. The bullet caught Charlie’s horse in the neck. The horse foundered, dumping Charlie sideways. The woman screamed, scrambling off her horse to check on Charlie. The sudden movements of the woman and Charlie’s horse spooked the woman’s horse. The beast side stepped, bolting a few yards.

Charlie wriggled out from under the dying animal, stumbling to his feet. The woman put a supportive hand endearingly on his shoulder. Charlie smacked her hand away, unknowingly shoving her to the side as he brought his gun up to shoot. Firing another round, Quint got Charlie in the head. The man rocked back on his heels, finally falling backward.

The woman, unphased at her lost lover, grabbed the gun from Charlie’s dead hands. The pistol shook, waggling at him.

“Ma’am,” Quint hollered sternly, “I wouldn’t.”

The woman wiped wet hair off her face. “Or what?” she seethed, hellish eyes narrowing on him. “You’ll shoot me dead?”

He nodded and shrugged. “Yes… I’m not above it.”

The woman blanched at his comment, dropping the gun. Her pistol fired at her feet; the bullet pinging off the rocks. She screamed, bending down for cover, and crawling toward Charlie’s body. Quint trotted his horse toward her, bullet fresh in the chamber. She rifled through Charlie’s pockets quickly, taking what she could off the dead man.

Quint watched her emotionless figure crawl about her dead husband and his dead horse, taking what she could from them. Finally, hiking up her skirts, she sauntered to her horse, apparently lacking the good sense to run.

“Don’t come back to Colorado,” Quint shouted.

She spun on him, eyes dark as venom and glared at him. Mounting, she sped off south. Quint let out the breath he was holding, pushing the hat off his head.

“That woman has the devil in her,” he commented to his horse.

The beast shuddered under him.

“I wasn’t gonna shoot her… well,” Quint scratched his head. “Nah, I wouldn’t have.”

He trotted over to the animal he shot on accident. He winced when he saw it still breathing, eyes wide and nostrils flaring, blood trickling from its lips. Quint dismounted, careful of his angry, bleeding leg. Bending down, he covered the horse’s eyes with a bandana from his pocket.

“I’m sorry bud,” he said to the horse, patting his neck. “I didn’t mean to get ya.”

Drawing his pistol, he let out a harsh breath, pulling the hammer back. His mount whickered softly. He stroked the animals head, ruffling his fingers through its dirty mane.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

Pressing the barrel to the suffering horse’s head, he closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. Getting up with a pained groan, his eyes searched for the other rider-less horses. The horses stopped where their mounts fell, heads down with ears back, breathing heavily; the rain pelting their bodies.

“That saves time,” he said, gathering his horse’s reins.

Quint grabbed the body of the dead Charlie Hilbert, throwing him on behind his saddle. Taking out some rope, he tied Charlie on. Mounting, he trotted off toward the first horse. His mount whickered under him, ears back and agitated. The beast side stepped, tossing his head. Quint leaned over, patting the horse’s neck.

“It’s all right, Joey,” Quint soothed. “We’ll be back in Denver soon.”

Joey snorted, bolting off to the rider-less horse. Joey slowed to a halt nearing the animal. Quint dismounted carefully, inhaling a hiss when his shot leg hit the ground. The exhausted, soaked horse didn’t balk at his hurried appearance. Quint checked over the animal, unleashing the dead man from the saddle, letting him drop unceremoniously. On the horse’s croup, two deep cuts oozed blood.

“Shit,” Quint breathed. “Gonna need to get you some help.”

The weary horse whickered, shuddering in the cold, bone-soaking rain. Quint unsaddled the horse, tossing all the gear on the ground by the dead man. Picking up the person he killed, Quint tossed him on the wounded horse.

Gently, he tied the person on, careful not to see his face. Quint’s heart clenched. In all his years of making poor decisions, he killed three people. Now, he’d ended three more. Sighing, Quint strode to the other person, face down in the muddied soil.

Thunder boomed overhead. Chills from the icy rain crawled up his soaked arms and permeated the rest of his body. Quint adjusted the hat on his head, pulling it low over his eyes. Unsaddling the last horse, he tossed the tack by the dead man. Picking up the fellow, Quint caught a glimpse of the man’s face.

Quint sighed, closing his eyes. “Damn it, Danny,” he breathed. “Stupid kid.”

Quint flung Danny over the back of the horse, tying him down beside the other one on the uninjured horse. Running a hand over his face, he sucked in a breath. Gathering the reins to all three mounts, he led the horses across the plain to where he last remembered seeing Ross and Mary.

“Ross!” he hollered; his voice drowned out by the passing tempest.

Shuddering from the rain, he backtracked toward the river. “Mary!” he called, being met with no sign of his companions.

The surging river roared with the driving rain. Lightning crackled, spindling out like a spider’s web across the sky to the east. A booming roll of thunder followed, making all three horses whinny shrilly. Quint frowned. I can’t wait to be back in Denver, he thought.

“Ross!” Quint hollered again.

“Quint? That you?” Ross answered to Quint’s left.

“Yeah. Charlie’s dead,” his voice faltered slightly. He hoped the storm covered it up.

Ross stood with a drawn and pale Mary in his arms. Quint changed direction, heading toward him. Approaching his friend, his eyes toward the ground at Ross’s questioning gaze.

“What happened?”

Quint shuffled from foot to foot. “They were closing in and shot at me. I shot back. I killed them. Charlie, Little Danny and another.”

“Danny Roister? And the woman?”

Quint met his gaze. “Yeah. That kid we saved from hanging when Del Avilasto was looking for a scapegoat a few years back,” Quint shook his head. “I let the woman go. She headed south.”

Ross nodded. “I owe you much.”

Quint shook his head. “No… I got to right some wrongs. Call this straight.”

Ross offered his hand. “Deal.”

Shaking Ross’s hand, Quint brought Joey around, offering up the saddle to Mary. Ross hoisted his woman on the horse’s back, taking the reins from him. Quint let them drop, holding the horses with the dead people on their backs. Ross helped him switch out horses, alleviating the wounded horse of his horrible burden.

The rain abated, bringing instead a light drizzle with a stiff wind. Quint didn’t mind. The stinging of his skin helped to remind him, he was breathing. Walking, he headed to the open road. He let out a breath. In a few hours he would be in Colorado Springs, inside a saloon, drinking away the memory of what he’d done.

Quint sat at the Whitman Diner, in the back corner, counting the money he got from the Colorado Springs sheriff for killing and bringing in the body of Charlie Hilbert and his gang. Quint shoved it all in his pant pocket. His heart swelled shut at the killing of three people. Even though in self-defense, the killing shamed him, just as the previous three killings he’d done.

Drinking the rest of his cup of coffee, he leaned back on his chair. Fork in hand, he played with his fried eggs and biscuits. Closing his eyes, his mind flashed the images of the boys he killed.

Not even a moustache between them, he shook his head. And I killed them because I was so blinded by greed and what Del Avilasto promised to see straight. Running for a bit with Charlie Hilbert didn’t better my odds either. Lord, I am unforgivable.

Quint ran a hand over his face again, trying to swipe away the memories and the pain they brought forth. Six lives taken. Taking the life of the horrid Charlie Hilbert wouldn’t ever correct the pain he’d inflicted but at least he was able to bring the man’s reign of terror to an end.

“Where did it all start going wrong?” he questioned himself quietly.

Screeching of chairs echoed in the stillness of the diner as people paid their tab and left, leaving only him. Glancing over his shoulder Lena’s beautiful hazel eyes caught his.

“You all right?” her melodic voice asked him.

Quint tilted his head to the left. Lena smiled at him, a coffee pot in one hand and a stack of dirty plates in the other.

“Fine,” he responded with a smile and a shrug.

Lena leaned over, filling his mug to the brim with the black gold. “Mary says you saved her.”

Quint snorted, shaking his head. “No… I surely didn’t.”

Lena smiled softly at him. “Still, mighty brave of you to go with Ross and face those men.”

Quint took a sip of coffee. Lena walked away, going back to the kitchen, leaving him alone, the only patron in the entire dining room. He sighed, running a hand over his face and scratching the back of his neck.

I am a damned man. Ain’t no woman like her would want me, he sighed. Getting off his rickety chair, he put his worn hat back on his head. Lena came out the kitchen with a magnificent smile on her honeyed face, holding something behind her back.

“Here,” she said abruptly.

Quint took the offering of a molasses cookie, smiling at the morsel wrapped in a cloth napkin.

“Don’t tell Claudia,” Lena whisper-chuckled. “She counts them now with Eugene and Ross stealing them throughout the day. And if she notices and says anythin’, tell her you saw Eugene sneak out with one.” Lena winked and giggled.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Lena,” he began, choking on his words, “can I… if you want,” Quint choked some more.

Lena stood patiently in front of him. Her hazel eyes frightened and shocked at his attempted proposal. Lena grabbed her right wrist with her left hand, biting her lower lip.

“I’m,” she choked out.

Seeing her stricken face, Quint held up a hand, giving her a lopsided grin. “Have a good day, Lena. I’ll see you at supper.”

Lena cleared her throat. “Yes, see you then Quint.”

Quint strode out of the Whitman Diner to his tethered stallion. The horse whickered gently at his approach. Quint patted Joey’s back, gathering the reins in his calloused hands. Peering over his shoulder, Lena waved at him from the window. Quint raised a hand to her.

He tucked the cookie Lena gave him in his pocket. Mounting up, he spun his horse south toward the train station. Getting his horse into a smooth trot, he headed out of town to the Rocky Pine Ranch, silently berating himself for embarrassing Lena.

The train whistle blew loudly; the engine roared, coming alive to take people south on their travels. Quint crossed the tracks heading west, following the main road to Black Hawk.

Joey whinnied underneath him, ready to stretch his legs. Letting his horse have lead, Joey opened up, barreling down the road. Quint allowed himself to enjoy the freedom he felt on Joey’s back. The wind whipping his body brought a smile to his face. Taking the second road to the left, Quint followed it down a small hill, curving down until it flattened out.

Down below, a small house plumed smoke from a chimney. A barn settled itself to the right of the house. Cattle lowed out behind the buildings, across a small creek in an open pasture.

“It’s peaceful way out here,” he said to Joey, pulling him to a walk.

The horse tossed his mane, irritated he didn’t get to run more.

Quint reined in at the top of the last hill, gazing down at the beauty below. I want something like this – a house, a wife, my own small slice of Colorado heaven. Sighing, Quint rubbed the back of his neck. It’s not going to happen for me. Not when a woman learns of what I did, she’ll leave me quicker than meat spoils.

“Shall we?” he asked Joey.

Spurring his horse, the animal galloped the last half mile or so to the ranch house. Quint dismounted out front before his horse ever came to a stop. Taking the cash out of his front pocket, he shoved it all in his saddle bag. Looking down at his gun belt, he contemplated taking it off.

Spurred bootsteps and the slam of the door, caused him to peek over his shoulder. Quint smiled, at the older man coming out onto the porch.

“Quint Morris,” his boss hollered. “Good to see you again and just in time.”

Looking up, Quint smiled. “How goes, Mr. Kirby?”

“Frank,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

The ranch owner rocked back on his heels, leaning against a beam of the house. Taking off his hat, Frank ran his fingers through the salt and pepper hair covering his ears and flopping over his forehead. “Not too bad. Branding calves and making a larger holding pen for them.”

“Where’s the party?”

Frank chuckled. “Out in the east field, across the bridge. Albert quit this morning, hopped the train, and headed south to Kansas City. So, it’s only you and Brandon from here on out. Or at least till I can find a replacement for him.”

Quint nodded. “I’m certain we can handle it, Frank.”

The older man scratched his beard. “Thank you. See you later then.”

“Are you staying for supper?” Frank’s wife asked, coming around the side of the house. A dead chicken, plucked clean, dangled in her left hand. The woman’s bright eyes held warmth and kindness. Streaks of gray weaved through the braid holding her hair tight.

Quint shook his head. “No ma’am. Thanks though.”

“Heidi,” the woman corrected, coming up and lacing her right hand in with her husband’s, holding the chicken away from their bodies.

“I’m going to dine at the Whitman Diner,” he smiled, thinking of Lena.

“A woman,” Heidi commented to Frank, winking at Quint before going inside the cozy home.

“Remember, the bunk’s out back, the small building attached to the barn,” Frank said in a teasing tone, hand on the door knob. “Heidi already put blankets out there for you.”

“Much obliged.”

“Pay is once a month. Twenty-five dollars. See you later, Quint.”

Before Quint could respond, Frank turned and went inside his home. Taking off Joey’s saddle and pad, he carried it and the saddle bags to the bunk house. Opening the door, Quint set his items just inside, heading back to Joey. Leading his horse around the back, and crossing the bridge, he let him loose with the cattle in the west field. Joey took off bolting out of sight.

Spinning on his heel, he went toward the east field where Brandon stoked a growing fire. Glancing at the sky. Not even noon. He pulled the molasses cookie from his pocket, stuffing it in his mouth. He moaned, smiling at the thought of Lena and the secrecy she held him to.

I’ll tell Lena, he decided. See where it goes… Tonight.

Lena watched Quint ride away from the diner, heading south toward the train station. Her heart tumbled in her chest. She didn’t know whether or not to be fond of him or write him off. The man was illusive, harboring more than what he let on.

Everyone has their secrets, she thought. I know I surely do.

There was something about Quint which drew her to him. She thought him rugged and handsome with his deep brown eyes and coal black hair. His clean-shaven face with the upward quirk of his lip sent her heart fluttering. At the same time, her head cautioned her to remember her past and avoid the male gender all together.

Lena brought the soiled plates back into the kitchen, depositing them by the sink where Mary washed and dried. She offered a genuine smile to her friend thankful she was back and alive. Mary glanced up, her right eye swollen and discolored from the kidnappers who took her.

“You doin’ all right, Mary?” Lena asked.

Mary nodded. “Yeah. I’m not as sore today.”

“Lena,” Claudia called.

Lena spun on her heel facing the elderly and gossip-loving cook. She offered the woman a polite smile. “Yes, Claudia?”

“Could you run to the mercantile to see if they have any eggs, milk and flour in?” Claudia asked, strumming her fingers on the counter. “Leonard said more would be in today.”

Lena nodded, heading toward the back door leading into the hotel. “Sure thing, Claudia. Anything else you, or Ada need?”

Ada poked her head above the oven, pulling out another sheet of cookies. “Molasses and sugar please.”

Lena waved her hand behind her head. “I’m on it,” she said, heading out of the stuffy kitchen.

Taking a deep breath, thankful to be out of the hot kitchen, she strode toward the manager’s office. The cool air felt refreshing on her face. Lena breathed in deep, relishing the wafting scent of cookies mingling with the aroma that was all Colorado.

Her mind wandered back to Quint, wondering if someone like him would love her, if he truly knew her past. Lena shook her head; I could never tell him. He wouldn’t want me when he learned of what I had to do... Lena shook off the uneasy nerves crawling on her skin, forcing the handsome cowboy from her mind. No more, she decided. No man would want me and I don’t want the rejection. I have friends here, food, a roof over my head, and it's good enough for me.

Striding past Bartholomew at the front desk, she went to the door, leading to the back office.

Without glancing up at her Bartholomew called, “Jane left you money for the shopping in the envelope in front of me.”

“Oh,” Lena said. “Do you know where she went?”

Bart shrugged, reading the Denver Times. “Checking in on Ross and the new girl, Natali.”

Lena nodded, grabbing the envelope. “Thank you, Bart.”

Striding out of the Whitman Hotel, the autumn sun warmed her face. A cool, gentle breeze blew the wispy chocolate brown hairs off her face. With a smile on her lips she headed down the stairs of the Whitman Hotel. Pausing at the bottom, she looked both ways, waiting for the wagons and horses to pass. Men tipped their hats to her, smiling as they passed. Lena nodded, keeping her face pleasant but impersonal.

Her skin crawled. She didn’t mind going to the mercantile. She minded the looks she got from men she passed along the way; they made her anxious. Taking a cleansing, calming breath, she jogged across the street, turning to pass a couple stores.

Seeing all the cowboys in town made her think of Quint Morris. She admired his easy laugh, how his brown eyes twinkled whenever she neared. He made a point to come see her almost every day since he and Ross had returned with Mary.

Good Lord, she thought. What am I even thinking? I have to get him out of my head before he ever gets into my heart. He mustn’t know. I could never tell him or anyone else. No one would like me then. Lena sighed and shook her head as she stopped in front of Handover’s Goods. No more thoughts of Quint Morris. No, no Lena Jenkins.

Opening the door to the mercantile, the bell tingled above her head.

“Good morning, Lena!” Leonard exclaimed. “Claudia send you for more eggs and milk?”

Lena grinned, at the old shop-keep. Leonard moved behind the counter slowly, bent at the knees and hand on his back. His snow-white hair combed over the bald patch on his head endeared her more to him. Small black spectacles sat on the tip of his nose.

“Yes. I also need molasses, sugar and flour.”

Leonard shuffled behind the counter, going to a barrel. “How much flour?”

Lena opened the packet of money, pulling out coins. “I will take two bags each of flour and sugar.”

Leonard nodded, taking a seat on the stool. “I’ll let my help take over. It’s why I hired the young kid,” Leonard chuckled. “I’m thinking of retiring,” he winked at Lena then raised his voice, yelling over his shoulder, “Clyde, I need you out front.”

“Yes, Grandpap?” the blond-haired boy around thirteen said.

“Help, Ms. Jenkins. She needs two bags each of flour and sugar, eggs, milk and molasses. And help her carry it to the hotel.”

Clyde nodded, getting busy. Approaching Leonard, Lena set the money on the counter. Leonard took it, counting it and put it in the cash register. The old shop-keep handed her back some change.

“How are you doing, Lena?” Leonard asked. “Any man around here catch your fancy yet?”

Lena blushed and shrugged. “One has, although I’m not sure.”

Lena felt herself burn hotter than Claudia’s oven. No more, Quint. No more, she chided herself. I can’t let myself get close. I can’t let him know.

Leonard smiled kindly; one of those smiles she figured a wise grandpa would show. “God sends people to us when we least expect it,” he said, taking a seat on his stool once more. “God sent me my Ethel when I’d just gotten my advances rejected by Ethel’s cousin,” he chuckled, shaking his head and smiling fondly. Leonard glanced heavenward, his gaze seeming to pass through the beams in the mercantile shop. “God knows what you need and sends it exactly when you need it most.”

“Amen,” she said softly.

His comment made her skin crawl. She didn’t want Quint; not right now anyways. She wasn’t ready to confess to another man what she did back in New York or all the way here. It was sinful. It was against everything she knew and the bible.

“Shit,” she cursed under her breath.

“You say somethin’, Lena?” Leonard asked. “Or did you sneeze?”

Lena blanched, rubbing her nose. “I sneezed. Sorry, Leonard.”

“Bless you. Clyde, after you help Ms. Jenkins, I want you to sweep the shop.”

“Yes, Grandpap,” the boy answered, putting all her items in a crate.

Lena got the door for Clyde, heading up the small incline of a hill back to the hotel. Clyde spoke a few sentences to her about helping his Grandpap at the store and how he liked it. Lena responded absentmindedly; her thoughts elsewhere. Lena bit her bottom lip, glancing to where she remembered Quint ride off to. If God sent Quint to her, how long could she keep from telling him about her past and if she did tell, would she be forced out of town like after the last man she told?

Hours after speaking with Leonard, her nerves remained rattled. If any of her friends could tell, they were polite enough not to say anything. To remain busy, she cleaned all the windows, inside and out, all the tables and chairs as well; swept the dining area until she was certain she could eat off the floor, and cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom. Even after all the labor, her nerves had yet to calm.

She swallowed, stepping into the dining room and glancing again toward the door. Any moment, Quint would walk through for supper, taking a seat in the very back, far right corner as per his usual; his back to the crowd of diners.

“Lena,” Natali said, tucking blond hair behind her ear. “Anything I can help with?”

The soft-spoken new hire, more skittish than a fawn, poked her head out of the kitchen door to ask.

“I’m all right. Take a break and go relax. I will need your help during the supper rush,” Lena replied.

Natali nodded, sticking her head back inside the safety of the kitchen. Lena let out a breath. She wanted to be alone for a bit more. Taking the broom inside the kitchen, putting it back against the right side of the wall by the hutch, she made her way outside.

Taking in a lungful of air, she moved to sit on the bench on the right side of the door. Closing her eyes, she ran her hands over her face and let them linger on her cheeks.

“There’s no way,” she said softly to no one, “no way, I could tell him.”

Sighing, she leaned back against the bench and groaned. She was making a mountain out a prairie dog hill. But to her, this secret was everything. It was her reputation here in Colorado. It could ruin her if her past got out. Adding her fancy for Quint on top of it all, made it feel like her small, contained world was crumbling to bits.

Oh Mama, how I need you now, she thought through misting eyes. Mama wasn’t coming back, dying the day after her fifteenth birthday from lumps all over her body. Lena still remembered hearing the doctors whisper about her mama being a “medical mystery” and “nothing to be done” for her. Those words still struck fear in her.

Lena swallowed hard, wiping a tear from the edges of her lashes. Mama, she thought, I miss you so much. What would you tell me to do? You know I didn’t want to do what I did. I had to eat though, and get away from the slums of New York if I ever wanted to be free of the position life had forced me into there.

The door creaked open. Lena straightened herself. Closing her eyes, she feigned basking in the sunshine.

“Hey Lena,” Natali said. “Mind if I join you out here?”

Lena shook her head. “Not at all.”

Natali took a seat, blowing air through her lips. She put her head in her hands, leaning her elbows on her knees.

“What’s the matter?” Lena asked, thankful to not be focusing on her own issues.

“I miss my mama. I’m worried about her,” Natali confessed. “My step-dad is a mean bugger.”

Lena put a hand on her back. “It will be all right. Sometimes you have to save yourself as horrible as it sounds. Then you can have hope to save others.”

Natali shrugged. “You’re right. Doesn’t make it any easier,” Natali sniffed.

Lena wrapped an arm around the young woman. Natali leaned against her, crying the tears she’d been trying to keep in. Lena held her, rubbing her arm while she cried, understanding all too well what Natali had to leave behind in the shack she called a home. Lena’s own tears tracked down her cheeks.