"Colt, they never had a chance. Those murderers killed them outright. Right through the head, both of them." The deputy looked over at the Marshall fearing what he'd see. The dead woman was Colt's wife, Deborah, and the man with her was her lover. They took the stage to run away from town when the vehicle was attacked and robbed.

"She didn't have to leave, not this way." The marshal knelt on the ground, holding his head in his hands.

"Sir, you go. I'll take care of this." Deputy Harper was very uncomfortable seeing his boss’s silent anger.

"No, Dave, I'm alright. I'll see whoever did this dead."

"You don't mean that. That'd be going against every thing you and the law stand for."

"I'm quitting. I've got to hunt these murders down. Let's get them loaded up and then I'll go talk to Sam."

"No, Colt, don't do it. You’re too good a lawman to go down this way."

"Let's get the job done." Colt became the stoic man that he was known for, a man with a granite face and extremely fast with the gun. His reputation became his name. Before the War Between the States, he'd been a Pony Express rider and known differently then as warm, caring and honest, but that was before an event that changed his life.

Colt loved a girl, but he'd never told her before she was suddenly taken away from him. The Indians that captured her captive were known for their savage treatment of hostages. She was never seen or heard from again. Her disappearance left its mark on Colt. She had said, "Wait too long and the right time will pass you by." and he'd waited too long.

When he met Deborah, he knew he should not wait too long. After a short courtship, they married but they should have waited longer and gotten to know each other better. Colt's ghosts came between them and she hated the lonely nights when he was working upholding the law. Even the birth of their son didn't help the relationship. Deborah met Jacob Weatherby and was smitten.

They made their plans to run away and start over back East where no one had ever heard of Colt Miller and his smoking Navy Colt. She saw Jacob as an escape from a prison that held her. Deep in her heart she hoped Colt would come and claim her as his and plead for her to return.

The stage left Laramie at three in the afternoon and was to reach Bufort by eight but it never arrived. Thirty miles east of Laramie a band of four outlaws pulled the stage over, shot the driver, guard, and four passengers, including Deborah Miller and Jacob Weatherby. All died immediately except the guard. He wrote a short description of the robbers before he died.

"Sam, I quit. I'm going to find those murderers and see them hang for what they did." Colt's face showed no sadness, just determination.

"I can't let you do that. If you are going hunting them, do it under the law, not by taking it in your own hand. You know better than that, Kid." the marshal was worried.

"I told you to never, never call me that again, he spat at his friend. He died back in that relay station. Leave him there. I'm going. Good-by." The anger rose in his face.

"What about your son, what is going to happen to Jimmy?" Sam had to get this man to start thinking with his head not his heart.

Colt looked Sam directly in the eye and said, "He's yours and Emma's now." Colt turned and walked out of the office and never looked back. Getting on his horse, he rode out of town to begin the search that would keep him away from Laramie for months.

"Sam" a woman cried. It was Marshal's wife of six years, Emma. "I just heard about Deborah. Did Colt find them? Where is he?"

"He's gone."

"Gone, gone where?" Her face was etched in pain.

"Left to get the killers. Quit his job and rode out."

"Didn't you try to stop him? What about the funeral? Oh, my, what about little Jimmy?"

Sam went to his wife and hugged her, tears filled his eyes too. "He's really hurting now. I'm sure he'll be back when he has a chance to think about what he's doing. I said we'd take care of Jimmy for him. I guess we'll have to bury Deborah too, unless some of her family shows up."

"Oh, Sam, how much pain must one man bear? First Lou and now Deborah. Why can't things work out for him?"

"You know Emma, when a man lives by the gun those around him might get hurt. His life hasn't been easy but then neither has most peoples."

The rough dusty ride lulled the five passengers on the stagecoach into off and on dozing. The three men and two women rode along in silence. The day was bright and sunny and it hadn't rained in a long time so the dust cloud kept swirling around in the coach. Louise sat back and stared out the window, alone with her thoughts for the first time since her rescue from captivity. "Oh, what am I doing? If it hadn't been for Dr. Farrell... Enough of that kind of thought. I'm going to find Teresa and Jeremiah. I'm sure that they think I'm dead. Will this be too big of a shock if I show up?" The rocking coach soon put her to sleep.

An hour later the coach stopped to to give the passengers a break for water and a chance to stretch their legs while the team of horses was changed. "Ma'am, water stop," the driver said to Louise.

She opened her eyes and saw that the sun starting to set, the air cooler and the dust settling. Her eyes felt like they were full of sand but she knew one didn't pass up water stops. They came too seldom.

"Miss," said one of the male passengers. "May I help you get down? You've had quite a nap."

"No, I'm fine. I'll do just fine myself." Louise answered quickly. The last thing she wanted was to have some man falling over her. She quickly got off the stage, went to get a drink and washed her face. Removing some of that dirt made her feel better and helped wash away some disturbing dreams. She couldn't quite remember them except they frightened her.

"Load up. Time to get moving." yelled the stage driver. All of the passengers quickly ascended into the coach and found their seats.

Six days later and six nights spent in small, and sometimes dirty, hotel rooms Lou and the rest of the passengers left the coach for the last time. This was Independence, Kansas, and the end of the line for the Eastmond Stage Line. A boomtown since the Civil War, it claimed the honor of being the jump off point for those headed west or returning to the east.

Lou got off the stage and brushed the travel dust off her skirt, looking around for any familiar landmarks. Everything changed so much since she came here six years ago to visit her brother and sister. Where were they now?

"Well, standing here won't get them found," she told herself. Knowing that the orphanage was east of the train station and that the stage drove over some tracks shortly before stopping to let the passengers disembark, she headed east looking for the train station.

"I'm sorry, miss. The Foundling Home here closed half way through the war and the house became a hospital. I don't know what happened to those children that were still here. You might want to talk to Father Jerome over at St. Joseph Church. They're the ones that ran the Home." Lou thanked the maid for her advice and walked back down to the street.

"Now where do I find a church?" Lou said to herself. "If only I... Now hold it right there. No more of that kind of thought. I will find them and they will be happy to see me." She kept talking to herself to keep at bay the nagging thoughts that she was truly was alone in the world, that every one she ever loved was taken from her or believed her to be dead.

"Yes, Ma'am I think that I can help you. I just arrived here when we closed the orphanage. Let me get the books, we did keep track of most of the children who lived there." the priest said. Lou waited patiently, hoping she would finally get some good news and help with her search. "Ah, yes, here it is. Now you must know that all of the children were placed a couple of years ago but that doesn't mean that they are still in those homes."

"Yes, sir, but at least I’ll have a direction to look." Louise shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "Please, please give me a clue" she prayed silently.

"Is this who you're looking for? A Miss Teresa McCloud, born in 1851."

"Yes," Louise opened her eyes and looked at the place where the priest pointed. "Where is she now?"

"It says here that she went to work at the home of a Mrs. Randolph Hursten as a domestic help for the period of three years or until, well now doesn't that beat all."

"What, what does it say?" Louise was excited, being this close to finding her sister.

The priest answered, "Her contract ends in three days. She will be of age and no longer bound to remain in the service of her indenture. I hope, for your sake, you can find her before she slips away from you again. My blessings to you, child." He reached over and shook her hand.

"Thank you, thank you." Louise quickly left the man's office and went to find out where a Mrs. Randolph Hursten lived.

"No, can't say as if I ever heard of any Hursten's living here in Independence. You sure that is the name. I've been here for three years and I'd sure remember that name." The Post Officer shook his head. "Sorry, I couldn't help you find your sister. No, wait a minute; now I remember. There was a lady here for a while by that name only I think she now lives near St. Joseph, Missouri. Can't give you a name of a town though. She was here visiting her sister."

"Do you remember the sister's name?" This wasn't going at all like Louise had hoped.

"Yes, but she died back then, that's why Mrs. Hursten came, to be with her as she died. Sorry that is all I remember."

"Thanks for your help." Louise sighed and closed her eyes to hold back the tears. She walked slowly from the Post Office and headed back toward her hotel. She knew she didn't have much money left. Dr. Farrell loaned her enough for the stage trip and for a week's stay in Independence and after the money was gone, she would be on her own.

Returning to her room, she laid on the bed trying to decide what to do next. Should she go on to St. Joe and see if anyone there knew Mrs. Hursten or her sister? Did Russell, Majors, and Waddell still owe her some money from her employment with them? She knew that would be a long shot. They'd probably declared her dead and kept no record of owing her a red cent. Closing her eyes she quickly fell asleep. The scream awaked her. Where was she? Why did she feel all clammy? Who screamed? She suddenly realized she woke herself with the same horrible dream again. Why wouldn't it go away? Whenever she was really tired it came to haunt her. Louise knew the dream was terrifying but she could never remember what happened.

After buying a pair of trousers and a shirt, Louise's money was gone. She walked toward the building where she signed on with the Pony Express. No sign declared the business of Russell, Majors and Waddell. Lou bit her lower lip as she walked into the office building.

"I'm sorry, son. They went bankrupt in '62. I don't think anyone saved any records. If you were owed money, it was lost. There's nothing I can do."

Louise walked over to the door, shoulders sagging. She discovered her sister moved to Chicago over a year ago and was married but no one remembered her husband's name. There was no trace of Jeremiah and the company that owed her a life's savings no longer existed.

As she walked down the boardwalk, going no place particular, tears filled her eyes. She always controlled her feelings, but this was all too much. What would she do now? "I'd better get a job even if its scrubbing floors," a job she detested and why she signed with the Express.

As she stepped off into the street a horse and rider almost knocked her down. "Hey, kid, watch where your going!" he yelled.

Louise looked up from starring at her feet. Coming out of her daze she realized she walked a long time and was lost. She glanced around trying to get her bearings. "What does it matter, I don't have anywhere to go anyway."

Halfway up the block, a man walking with two crutches, climbed onto the boardwalk. Louise saw him and she also noticed something else. The man looked down at his feet and didn't see the Bank's signboard dangling by a single chain. The wind blew it back and forth. "It's going to fall on him," she said to herself. Quickly she ran toward him and pushed him down just as the sign fell. It struck her on the back of her head and she collapsed unconscious.

The man lay on the boardwalk gasping for breath. Slowly he looked around to see what happened and saw boy lying on the walkway with the signboard on top of him and a small pool of blood forming by his head .

"I don't care what it costs. I'll pay for his care. He saved my life and got hurt in the process. Give him the best care you can and I'll make it up to you."

"Yes, Mr. Stevens. We will take care of the boy." the doctor replied. He looked over at his wife who was removing the injured Louise's clothing. "What's the matter?" he demanded.

She looked up at her husband, her eyes betraying something amiss, smiled, and said, "Nothing."

"What is wrong with his back?" Thomas Stevens exclaimed. "How dreadful. What could have happen to him?"

The doctor looked at the bare back, and the scarred neck. "He's been a prisoner and must have been beaten," the doctor said in a low voice.

His wife held on to Louise while the men turned to look at Lou's bag. She quickly laid her down and covered her bare body. She decided to tell her husband Louise's true sex after the rich, crippled man left.

Reaching into the bag, the doctor pulled out the dress Lou received back at Fort Carter. "Why would he have this rag? Oh, here is a piece of paper. It says 'Mrs. Rudolph Hursten, St. Joseph, Missouri.' Why would he be looking for her? She died over a year ago."

"It doesn't look like we'll find out much about my benefactor until he comes around. Is there any thing else in there?" Thomas asked.

"No, but your boy isn't very rich either. He's got 32 cents in his pants pocket." The doctor shook his head. He'd seen a lot of riffraff since the war and knew that this injured kid was no different. They came west looking for work, got into trouble, and usually ended up on the wrong side of the law. He was sure that was the future for this one too.

"Doctor," his wife whispered, "This is a girl." She looked directly in his eyes.

"No!" the doctor responded. He looked over at the other man picking up his crutches. "Mr. Stevens, I think we have solved a part of this mystery. Your 'boy' here is an imposter." Thomas looked at the doctor puzzled. The doctor continued "He is not a he, your rescuer is a girl. And by the looks of it not one who had a genteel lifestyle. Do you want me to talk to the sheriff and see if she is an outlaw?"

"How could you suggest such a thing? Just because one's body suffered abuse by others doesn't make him an outlaw. Will you continue to care for her or should I find other accommodations?" Thomas fumed at the doctor’s callous attitude toward the injured girl. "Why should the fact that the boy turned out to be a girl changed their feelings so?" he thought to himself. "I'll be back to check on you, my dear, soon," he thought to himself.

Thomas walked back to the hotel deep in thought. He felt very sorry for the girl injured while helping him. Life dealt her an unkind hand. Those scars on her back were horrible. How could anyone do that to a fellow human being? And her neck, that scar hadn't been healed all that long. He knew he would have to try to help her after she recovered from her injuries.

As he walked into his hotel, a stray thought made him smile. Laughing to himself at the plan that suddenly struck him, he said out loud, "Yes."

The desk clerk looked up in surprise. "Can I help you, Mr. Stevens?"

"Ah, yes. Do you have any available rooms next to mine or two rooms by each other some place else in the hotel? I have a guest coming and we'll need separate rooms." Mr. Stevens looked pleased with himself.

"I'll see what I can do." the desk clerk replied. "Yes, room 216 next to yours is open today. Do you want me to reserve it for you? Is your guest arriving today?"

"Yes, save it. If he doesn't come, I'll pay for it anyway, but I have a feeling that in a day or two he will show up." Thomas slowly climbed the steps to his room number 214. The crutches made slow going of steps, but he wasn't going to let his wound from the Civil War stop him from his dream of seeing the world and all the interesting people in it.

Thomas laid down on his bed and sighed. It had been another exciting day here in the West. The girl that had been injured was another dramatic prospect. Hearing her story of her life would certainly not be boring. "I sure hope she'll talk to me and accept my plan." He fell asleep and had a restful night, the first in a long time.

On to Chapter Six

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