Cody

In the spring of 1864, I was scouting ahead for the Seventh Kansas regiment, riding quite a distance ahead of command to pick up all possible information concerning General Price's movements.

It was mid-afternoon when I rode up to a farmhouse offering food. Stomach rumbling, I entered, and was surprised to find a familiar figure sitting at a table eating a bowl of stew and cornbread.

Sauntering over to his table, I said, "You gone and turn Reb, Jimmy?"

Startled, James Butler Hickok, glanced up from his stew to study me. A slow smile creased his lips as he said, "By the looks or our similar clothing, I'd guess that if I have, so have you."

I laughed good-naturedly and sprawled into the chair across from him. "No, seriously, what are you doing here?"

"Order some grub and we'll talk about it afterwards."

I accepted his invitation and ordered a bowl of stew and cornbread from the lady of the house. Jimmy paid her and the next several minutes passed in silence as we ate our meal. The food was almost as good as Emma and Rachel's cooking.

Afterwards, Jimmy accompanied me outside to where my horse was standing so we could talk in private.

"Cody, it's been good seeing you."

"Same here, Jimmy. Now tell me, what are you doing here dressed like that?"

"I am a scout under General McNeil. For the last few days I've been with General Marmaduke's division of Price's army, in disguise as a Southern officer from Texas, as you see me now. What brings you around here?"

"I'm doing some scouting as well under General A. J. Smith. I'm trying to find out about Price's movements."

"I'll tell you everything I know." Jimmy proceeded to fill me in on everything he knew.

"Thanks for the information, Jimmy. It'll be very useful in how we make our advance on Price's army. Have you heard anything from the home folks?"

"Last letter I had from Rachel she said everyone was good."

I sobered. "Never thought we'd be fighting on opposites from Kid."

Jimmy chuckled. "Me and Kid have been on opposite sides from the day we met."

"True, but that usually about Lou. Any time things got sticky, we were always there to back each other up. This is different."

"Kid had to do what he thought was right, same as us." Jimmy paused and then revealed, "Kid and I came across each other on the battlefield a few months back."

"What?"

"Yeah, it was in the middle of some heavy fighting and he was just suddenly there. We stared in shock silence with our guns pointed at each other. There was a moment when I wondered if I could pull the trigger if he did, but lucky for us we didn't have the opportunity to find out.

A cannonball landed close enough by us to knock us off our feet and make our ears ring, but not close enough to actually injure us. Last I saw of Kid, he was running away."

"I'm glad. I don't know how our family would recover if one of you had killed the other."

"It still might now. The war changes people, Cody. Kid might harbor hatred towards us when all of this is over with."

I shook my head. "There might be tension at first, but we'll get through it. We're family, Jimmy. Hold onto that. Hopefully, the war will be over soon, and we will all be reunited."

"I hope so, Cody. Take care of yourself." Hickok hugged me and then I was astride my horse riding away.

I hoped to hell I would see him again. I hoped I would see Kid, too.

Buck

Running Buck Cross crouched by the flowing river, studying the reflection of the full moon, shimmering on the water. The river was quiet, its voice soft as it spoke to the moon. He strained to here its words, for the river was wise, and tonight it was wisdom he sought.

He'd had another vision. A dark and troubling one, filled with a jumble of foreboding signs, all indicating to him that someone he loved was in danger…again. He didn't have any idea who it was though.

He closed his eyes and offered up a prayer for protection over those he loved to the Great Spirit. He'd just finished his prayer when he heard a rustle of leaves so soft it might have only been a trick of the wind. He tensed, his hand hovering over the butt of his Colt, listening intently. His tension faded away when he heard the faint tinkle of beads and rustle of buckskin identified the intruder.

"You shouldn't be out here, Wife." He scolded gently, without turning to face her.

"I am well enough, Husband." Cherokee Rose knelt beside him, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "Your soul called to me. You are troubled."

He'd slipped out of their tepee when he'd awakened a short while earlier. He hadn't wanted to wake her by his restless thrashing about. She'd given birth to their daughter, Dancing Willow, four day earlier. This birth had been more difficult than the previous two and Cherokee was still healing. She needed as much rest as possible.

He should have known she'd sense he was gone and awaken anyways. She was too attuned to his thoughts and moods.

Buck sighed and turned to look at her. "I've had another vision."

"Tell me."

"It was dark and foreboding. Filled with jumbled images. A raven. A gun. Blood. "

Cherokee squeezed his arm where her hand rested on it. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know." Buck's dark eyes were troubled as he gazed at her. "Yet. It is still so unclear. I just have this sense that someone I love is in danger."

"We will ask the Great Spirit for protection over our family and guidance for you." Cherokee rose to her feet and held out a hand to him. "Come Husband, let us return to our tepee and the warmth of our furs."

Buck hesitated a moment before taking her hand and rising to his feet. His vision still troubled him, but he realized he could do nothing more until he'd received more information from the spirits. For now, he would take solace in the fact that at least Cherokee and their children were safe in his protective care.

Emma

"My Pa held to the personal belief that each farmer has an obligation to every living, growing thing." Emma Shannon told Lou McCloud, Buck Cross, and Ike McSwain.

Teaspoon Hunter, Stationmaster at the Pony Express station, had tasked the three riders to assist the housekeeper in planting the new garden.

Emma crouched down and ran her hand through the upturned soil they'd all just spent the past hour preparing for the seedlings they were going to plant.

"His love for the soil and for making things grow was the reason out farm was so prosperous. He had a set time to plant the different seedlings for the vegetables we grew every year. He taught it to me and now I'm going to teach it to you."

"What do riders need to know about growing things?" Lou asked. "It isn't a useful tool like the ones that Teaspoon taught us. "

"You aren't always going to be a rider, Lou," Emma said. "Some day you riders are going to be doing other things and it's important that you have skills besides riding and shooting."

She straightened into a standing position and surveyed the garden patch. "We'll start with planting the corn and move on from there."

Emma rifled through the vast pocket of her apron until she pulled out a packet of seeds marked 'corn'. "Follow me and watch closely."

She started down the left side of the upturned ground. Lou, Buck, and Ike glanced at each other before following the housekeeper. Each doubted they'd ever need to know about growing things, but they weren't about to argue with Emma. Instead, they followed behind her and listened intently to her various instructions.

Ike

Ike McSwain slowly approached the injured female wolf. Her hind leg was caught in a trap and she'd been gnawing at it in an attempt to free herself when he came across her.

Her warning growls had startled his horse, Paver, who'd reared up and nearly thrown him. Only his skills as a horseman kept him from losing his seat. He'd reined Pacer in, spending a few moments to quite the unsettled gelding, before leading him to a nearby tree.

Once his horse was taken care of, Ike returned his attention onto the female wolf. He couldn't leave her trapped. He could see that her teats were swollen and hanging down, which told him she had a litter of pups somewhere nearby.

He wasn't going to leave her trapped and unable to care for her brood. Still, it wasn't like he could walk up and just free her. He didn't even know if she'd let him get close enough to help her.

Her warning growls became more vocal the closer he got. He tried to be as less threatening as he possibly could, inching ever closer to the trap. Finally, he was close enough. Slowly, he reached out to place his hands on either ide of the trap, and the she-wolf lunged at him.

He fell back, out of reach of her snapping jaws, as she alternated between snarling at him, crying and whimpering in pain. She settled into a heap, panting hard. Ike moved back into position and saw she was exhausted by her earlier struggles to free herself and this last lunge at him.

Keeping a cautious eye on her the entire time, Ike grasped hold of either side of the trap. He gritted his teeth and then pulled on both sides, tugging them open wide enough to free her injured leg.

He sat back on his heels, watching and waiting to see how she would react now that she was free. She licked around her bleeding, injured paw before scrambling cautiously onto all fours. She let out another whimper, growled at Ike, and loped off ton three paws, through the prairie grass away from the express trail.

Ike hastily rose to his feet and keeping a safer distance behind the She-Wolf, followed her a short distance away. She saw her disappear inside a bush. He heard the sound of happy yips and smiled. The mother was reunited with her pups and that made him happy. He returned to where he left Pacer, mounted the gelding, and kicked him into a gallop down the trail toward Sweetwater.

Jesse

Jesse James hurried down the dark streets of St. Joseph, Missouri. He glanced cautiously around him as he approached his house. He couldn't risk letting anyone follow him home. He couldn't place Zerelda and their children in danger.

He reached the backyard of his home at last, stopping momentarily to try and catch his breath, and finding it increasingly more difficult to do so. His lungs felt as if they were on fire. He was going to need someone to dig the bullet out of him soon, and hoped his wife had the strength to do the job.

He smiled. His Zerelda was one hell of a woman. She was beautiful, intelligent, and sassy. She'd helped Frank and the other boys in their gang rescue him from the Pinkertons and put up with his wander lust. His recklessness. His inability to stay out of trouble for only a few months at a time. She was thrifty with their money. Made sure their children got what they needed, and their bills were paid.

Yes, she could handle digging a bullet out of him. But she'd give him what for the entire time she was doing it. As long as she never gave up on him, he'd listen to her curse him until he went to his grave.

He took a shuddering breath and walked up to the back door. He tried the knob. Locked. Zerelda kept everything locked up when he wasn't home. He let out an expletive, before bending his elbow and using it to break the corner pane of glass. Carefully, he stuck his hand inside and unlocked the door.

He'd just opened the door and stepped inside when he heard the distinctive sound of a rifle cocking. "Take one more step inside, Mister, and I'm going to blow a hole through you." Pride and love filled him at the steel he heard in his wife's voice. "I'd rather you didn't, Zee. I've got one too many bullets in me already."

"Jesse?" Zerelda's voice was filled with surprise and immediate concern.

He heard her set the rifle down and knew he was free to move. He quickly closed and locked the door behind him. He turned back to face the kitchen in time for light to fill it. Zerelda had struck a match and lit one of the lanterns. Then she rushed over to his side.

She threw her arms around him. Jesse grunted as the movement jostled him, and despite the pain, eagerly accepted the kiss she gave him.

"What were you thinking scaring the hell out of me like that?" Zerelda putting her hands on her hips.

"Sorry, Darlin'. I was trying to avoid anyone seeing me." Jesse told her.

Zerelda's eyes narrowed. "And just why didn't you want anyone to see you?"

"Now Zee, " Jesse started, "Can we talk about this while you're digging the bullet out of my side? I really don't want to bleed to death on our kitchen floor."

Zerelda's anger fled as soon as she realized he was really hurt. She helped him over to a chair, and soon had his bloodied shirt stripped off him.

She paled as she got a look at his blood, soaked skin and the nickel size hole in his left side. She scurried about, putting water onto boil, sticking a knife in the fire to sterilize it, getting a sewing needle and thread, tearing a towel into strips for bandages, etc.

Jesse watched her buzz about in pained amusement. There was no one prettier when she was in a tizzy, and his Zerelda was certainly that right then.

"Do you think this will be easier with you sitting or lying down?" Zerelda asked when her preparations were completed.

"Here is fine." Jesse said. "Just get it done Zee."

"Very well."

Zerelda steeled herself for the task at hand. She'd doctored Jesse's cuts before, but she'd never removed a bullet from him. However, she had assisted her father in removing a bullet from someone else, and vaguely remembered how to do it.

She pulled another chair close by and set a tray of what she'd put together on another hand. She handed Jesse a bottle of whiskey she'd retrieved from a cupboard.

Jesse took a couple of swigs of the whiskey, then handed it back to his wife. He gave her a curt nod and braced himself. Zerelda poured a liberal amount of the whiskey over the bullet wound. White hot pain seared through Jesse's torso and it took everything in him not to cry out.

Zerelda chewed on her bottom lip at seeing Jesse in so much pain and knowing she was going to inflict even more on him before she was done. She took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and got to work on digging the bullet from her husband.

By the time she'd dug it out and dressed the wound, Jesse was sweating profusely. His face was ashen, a slight tremor ran through his body, and he was slightly hunched over. She wordlessly handed him back the bottle of whiskey. Once he'd drunk enough, Zerelda cleaned up the kitchen and helped Jesse into their bedroom.

It took some doing, but eventually Zerelda got Jesse undressed and into their bed. She climbed wearily under the covers beside him.

Jimmy

James Butler Hickok kissed his wife goodbye, hugged his children, and left their suite of rooms above the Silver Spoons Saloon, and headed downstairs. He grabbed the mug of fresh brewed coffee from their daytime barkeeper, Harold, and continued on his way to the jail.

He strolled down the wooden sidewalk, gray eyes scanning both sides of Main Street as he walked. His stint as the new Sheriff of Abilene wasn't well-known yet, and his reputation as the gunslinger 'Wild Bill' was wide spread.

The only way he had stayed alive for as long as he had, was because he always knew what was going on in any town he was in. Most of the men in Abilene were law abiding citizens, but there were a couple he had his eyes on.

He'd nearly reached the jail when he heard someone call out, "Wild Bill!"

Jimmy dropped his mug of coffee, whirled around, Colt in hand, and had a split second to assess the man calling him out was merely a teenager. Not much older than he was when he signed on to ride for the Pony Express. A remembrance of another time, place, and kid flashed before his eyes Instead of shooting to kill the threat coming at him, he shot the gun out of the kid's hand.

The bravado left the youngster's body and his face flooded with fear as Jimmy stalked angrily toward him. He went to his knees in the dusty street and held up his hands to offset the shot he knew was coming. "Please don't kill me."

"You should have thought about that before you pulled a gun on me!" Jimmy growled as he jerked the kid onto his feet and started dragging him toward the jail.

"Lucky for you, I'm the new law in town. So instead of shooting you full of bullets, I'm throwing your scrawny butt in jail!"

"Thank you, Wild Bill!" The kid gasped with relief as they entered the jail.

"The name's Hickok! Sheriff James Butler Hickok, not 'Wild Bill!" Jimmy snarled as he shoved the kid into a cell and slammed the iron door closed behind him.

"I suggest you do some thinking while you're in there!"

Without waiting for an answer, he left the sobbing teenager alone to contemplate his stupidity, while he went in search of a fresh mug of coffee, since he hadn't gotten to enjoy the first one.

Kid

Lieutenant Killian Kidrickson entered his tent, immediately stripping off his soiled uniform and muddy boots. Both the uniform and the boots went into a basket placed by the flaps of his tent. The camp laundress and her husband would be by to collect them shortly. In the morning his uniform would be returned cleaned and his boots shined.

Clad in his long underwear and socks, he walked over to the desk in one corner and settled wearily onto the chair before it. He ran a hand over his tired face, before reaching to pick up his pen. He dipped the tip into the inkwell and brought the pen up to hover over the blank sheet of stationary as he considered what he wanted to write.

My Dearest Lou,

I hope this letter finds you and our children well. Not a day goes by that I don't miss you all. You are the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and are the last things I think about when I fall asleep at night.

I would have written before now, but we've seen some heavy fighting recently. Three men I was beginning to think of as friends, died in a skirmish with the Yankees yesterday.

I don't know why I was spared. I am just grateful that I was. I hope my luck holds out, so I can return home to you and our children when the war is over. I pray that it will end soon.

I think of our Px family often, especially those of our brothers who are fighting in this God-awful war too. Send my regards along with yours the next time you send a letter. Tell the children that I love them and give them a kiss from me.

All my love,

Kid

He read over the missive and decided he'd send it as it was. He folded the letter, slipped it inside the envelope, then sealed and addressed it. He placed it at the corner of his desk, knowing that the carrier would pick it up sometime the next day and it would be shipped out with the rest of the camp's mail sometime that week.

He rose slowly from his chair and blowing out his lantern, moved over to his cot. He stretched his lithe frame on top of his cot and felt sleep begin to tug at his consciousness. He closed his eyes and smiled when Lou's beautiful face was there to lead into slumber.

Lou

Louise McCloud gazed at herself in the gold framed mirror in Charlotte Rowan's suite of rooms at Wicks' bordello. Her face was pale, her dark eyes were red-rimmed, her bottom lip was split, and there was a shadowing of bruises along the left-side of her jawline and onto her neck.

She shuddered as she remembered the feel of his hand wrapped tightly around her neck. She remembered how it felt to have his much larger and stronger frame pinning her down, hurting her as he took her against her will.

She blinked away tears, forcing the horror of what had happened to her only a short time earlier from the forefront of her mind. There would be time later to give in to everything she was feeling.

The sound of the knob turning on Charlotte's door had her scurrying to hide herself. For all she knew Wicks had already awakened from his drunken stupor and would be furious she'd escaped his clutches.

"Louise?"

Lou came out of her hiding place at hearing Charlotte call her name.

"Put these on." Charlotte handed her a pile of clothing.

Lou hastily stripped off the robe Charlotte had given to her earlier when she'd come to her friend for help. Soon she was dressed from head to toe in boy's clothing. She cinched the belt she wore on the last loop, so the pants would stay up. Wire-rimmed glasses, a hat, boots, and a gun belt completed her outfit.

Lou took the new Colt out of the gun belt and checked to make sure there were bullets in the chamber. She closed it and holstered it.

"You act like you know how to use that?" Charlotte commented.

"I do." Lou told her. "My pa taught me how to shoot before he left us. I haven't done it for a while, but I'm sure I'll remember how."

"There's one more thing we need to do." Charlotte said moving over to retrieve a pair of scissors from her sewing table in one corner of the room.

Lou sighed and sat down. Her tears slid silently as her long, dark tresses fell to the floor at her feet. She was still crying when she moved to stand in front of the mirror again. Charlotte replaced the hat on her head and the two women were surprised at how different she looked in her new disguise.

"He'll never find you looking like this." Charlotte said encouragingly.

Her words were enough to send an edge of fear racing through Lou. She had to get out of town before Wicks woke up and came looking for her. "I need to get out of here."

"While you were taking a bath, I went to your room and poured some laudanum down Wicks' throat." Charlotte told her reassuringly. "He won't wake up for awhile yet."

She steered Lou over to her bed and picked up a small canvas bag. "While I was in your room, I packed up your few treasures and money sack. I added some of my own to it. You should have enough to last you until you can settle somewhere and get a job. There's a horse, complete with gear, including a bedroll, waiting for you outside. Along with your clothes, I purchased you some food as well, and packed it in your saddlebags.

"Thank you, Charlotte." Lou cried, hugging her.

"Sweet Louise, I'm going to miss you. Stay safe. Always be true to yourself." Charlotte hugged her back.

"I will." Lou promised.

Charlotte escorted her out the back way of the bordello, making sure no one spotted her. Once outside, Lou hurriedly mounted the black gelding Charlotte had purchased for her, thankful she knew how to ride. She kicked the horse into a gallop and rode out of town. She didn't know where she was going, just as long as she got as far away from Wicks as she possibly could.

A wake later found Lou riding Lightning onto Emma Shannon's homestead, which was the place where she and other boys would train to be Pony Express riders.

A thrill of excitement swept through her. She'd always wanted to live an adventure and now she would. Best of all, she would be able to save up enough money to get her younger siblings from the orphanage and buy them a ranch somewhere to settle down on.

A woman with curly red hair, kind eyes, and warm smile welcomed her when she rode up to the large, two-story yellow house. 'I'm Emma Shannon. How can I help you?"

"Name's Lou McCLoud. Folks in town told me this is where I needed to come to train to be a Pony Express rider."

"You'd be correct. Hop on down from your horse and I'll take you over to the bunkhouse and introduce you to Teaspoon Hunter. He's the stationmaster who'll be teaching you everything you need to know about being a rider."

Lou did as she was instructed. Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, she followed Emma to the bunkhouse never knowing how drastically her life was going to change forever.

Noah

Noah Dixon lay wearily on his bedroll beside a crackling fire. He gazed up at the night sky, his thoughts drifting as his eyes grew heavier. Just when they started to close, his horse neighed, and then he heard the distinctive sound of a twig snapping.

He was suddenly wide awake. His gun was out and pointing in the direction the noise had come from.

"I know you're out there. Come into the light of the fire where I can see you."

"Please mister, don't shoot." A male voice pleaded.

Noah tightened his grip on his gun as he waited for whoever it was to show himself. Slowly a form began to take shape in the flickering glow of the fire. It turned into four forms by the time they stepped completely out of the darkness and into the firelight.

A Negro family. Man, woman, small child, and an infant. They were dressed in worn, but clean and mended clothing, the man standing slightly in front of his family, shielding them, his hands outstretched in a pleading manner.

Noah lowered his gun. "What are you doing out here in the dark?"

"We're just passing through." The man said. "We were hoping you might share your fire for the night."

"Sure." Noah put his gun away. "I'm Noah. You are?"

"I'm Eton. This is my wife Maisey. Our children Jonah and Daisy. " Eton told him.

"Make yourself comfortable." Noah sat back down on his bedroll.

Eton lowered a burlap bag to the ground and pulled two blankets out of it. He spread one on the ground. His wife placed their sleeping daughter onto the blanket, then gestured for their son to lay down as well. Once he did, she took off the canvas pack she wore on her back, set it on the ground, and then stretched out beside her children. Eton covered all three up with the last blanket.

"May I join you?" Eton asked.

Noah nodded. He set his coffeepot with the rest of the coffee he'd brewed earlier to drink with his supper back into the coals to heat up.

Eton settled onto the ground near Noah's bedroll. He held out his hands to the fire to warm them.

Noah studied him for a couple of moments in silence. "You are runaways, aren't you?"

"We are." Eton met his eyes evenly. "Our master was going to sell Maisey and Daisy. I couldn't allow that to happen, so we ran away."

"No man has the right to hold another in bondage." Noah said.

"Are you one too?" Eton asked.

"No. I was born free. " Noah told him. "My father spent his life helping people like your family get to freedom."

"He gone now?"

Noah nodded. "A couple of years back."

He used the sleeve of his shirt to pull the coffee pot from the coals and poured some in a cup. He offered it to Eton who shook his head. He moved over to the canvas pack his wife had been carrying, rummaged inside it and pulled out a tin cup, before returning to sit by Noah.

Noah poured coffee into it and the two men spent some time talking and enjoying their coffee before they went to sleep.

The Pony Express rider woke the next morning to the aroma of brewing coffee, potatoes and onions frying in bacon grease, and hoecakes baking.

"Smells good." He complimented Maisey as he slipped on his boots.

"Be ready shortly." Maisey replied as she flipped the hoecakes.

Noah left the campsite to do his morning ablutions. When he came back, he rummaged in his saddlebags and brought out two slightly bruised apples and offered them to Maisey. "Not much, but all I have."

"These apples will make a nice addition to our breakfast. Thank you for your kindness in letting us share your campfire last night and now." Maisey told him.

"You're welcome." Noah smiled at her.

Shortly, the three adults and young Jonah were partaking of the delicious meal Maisey had prepared for them. After, when he was done packing up his gear, Noah dug into his pocket. He counted the money he had and extricated most of it and approached Eton.

"I'd like you to have this." He offered the money to the other man.

"No, I cannot. " Eton protested. "it will help your family more than it will me." Noah argued. "I have a place to go with people who've become gamily to me. I am on my way back there now. Take it and use it on your journey."

Maisey stepped forward and took the money from him when Eton did not. "Thank you."

Eton shook hands with Noah as the rider mounted his horse.

"I hope you make it safely to wherever you are going." Noah told the couple.

"We wish the same for you." Eton replied as he and Maisey watched Noah swing his horse around and took off down the trail toward Sweetwater at a gallop.

Rachel

"Good Morning." Rachel Dunne welcomed her schoolchildren with a warm smile as they filed past her up the steps and entered the schoolhouse.

"Morning." They chorused together.

When Teaspoon Hunter suggested she be Rock Creek's new school teacher, she thought he was crazy. She was a woman with a sordid past who was looked condescendingly upon by most of the women in town.

No way were they going to let her teach their children. She'd been right, too. But Teaspoon had persuaded the town council to give her a chance. They'd reluctantly agreed.

Two months had passed since then and Rachel found that some of the mothers had come over to her side. Their children were learning under her tutelage and seemed to be enjoying going to school.

As the stragglers entered the schoolhouse, Rachel hurried up the steps and entered. She closed the doors behind her and walked up the aisle of desks to the front of the class room.

She clapped her hands and gestured for the children to take their seats. There was a flurry of movements as the children hung up their coats and shawls, stored their lunch pails, and took their assigned seats.

"Please open your readers to page ten. I want you to read for ten minutes. Then I will call you up one by one to recite what you have read."

There were a couple of groans at her words, but she flashed a stern look at the class and the groans dissipated. Readers were taken out and the room fell silent as students followed her instructions.

Rachel spent the ten minutes taking attendance, studying the list of lessons she'd made, and jotting down items she needed to pick up at Tompkins Mercantile for that evening's supper.

"Timmy Walker." She called out when the ten minutes were up.

Little Timmy Walker was one of her newest students, as well as the youngest. He was only now able to put letters together to make words.

He approached her hesitantly, his bottom lip trembling. "I don't know all the words."

"That's all right." Rachel assured him. "We'll work on then ones you don't know yet."

"All right."

Timmy smiled at her. Rachel's heart warmed at seeing it.

"Let's begin."

"A cat ran." Timmy read hesitantly. "A cat ran in the barn. A dog ran…"

The next hour passed as Rachel listened to her students' recitations, before they moved onto the next subject. Some subjects were harder than others for some of her students to catch onto, and it was those times when Rachel could very easily understand why some teachers gave up on continuing to teach those particular students.

Not Rachel. She took the skills she'd learned wrangling six Pony Express riders with different personalities and tempers and applied them to those students who had more difficulty learning who were troublesome by nature.

While she would never be considered a proper schoolteacher, she'd proven she was an effective one. Her new students were learning, and that alone was rewarding enough for Rachel.

Sam

Sam Cain stepped out onto the porch of the Sweetwater jail and cast an observant eye around at the bustling activity. It was still early but Main Street was already alive with people. Businesses were opening, storekeepers were setting up displays of their waves on their porches, and all manner of horse drawn transportation conveyed local citizenry about.

Sweetwater was prospering. New buildings were being built. New farms were starting. New families were making their homes in Sweetwater and that was a good thing.

While he considered the citizens of Sweetwater mostly responsible for the continued growth of the frontier town, he knew he had a hand in it as well. He took his job as Marshal very seriously. Protecting the citizens was important to him and he worked hard to keep the bad elements that occurred in other towns, from taking hold in Sweetwater.

Some days it seemed like he was fighting a losing battle. Other days, he knew that despite the difficulties, his efforts to keep the town safe was succeeding. It was on those latter days that he felt great pride in the work he was doing.

Teaspoon

I'd been set to follow him inside, but the noise drew my attention away from the mercantile and down the street. I stepped to the edge of the porch, leaning against the post, and watched as two mean-looking men in broke free from the group outside the saloon, and strolled out into the middle of the dusty street.

One of the men, this one dressed in black, except for a brilliant red vest, walked several paces away from the other man. Then he turned and faced his opponent.

Both were wearin' gun-belts slung low on their hips. As I continued to watch, they lowered their hands until they were hoverin' over the butts of their guns, and steadily eyed one another. I didn't move or breathe, waitin' in wide-eyed anticipation, along with several other people who'd lined up on either side of the street, for them to draw their guns.

It happened in quick-silver motion. One moment, both gunfighters were standing still, glaring at each other, and the next moment they'd drawn their guns and fired. The scraggly-looking one closest to me, rocked back on his heels, as the left-side of his head exploded. He crashed to the dusty street and lay still.

I whirled around, hastily averting my gaze, as my stomach clenched unexpectedly. I stumbled forward until I was pressing my forehead against the front wall of the mercantile.

I'd never seen someone shot before. Or seen them die. Tears sprang into my eyes and threatened to spill over. I hastily squeezed them tight and prayed I wouldn't get sick.

It was there that my Pa found me a few minutes later. He'd heard the gunshots and came looking for me when he realized I hadn't entered the mercantile behind him.

He didn't say anything to me. He simply grabbed me by the arm and dragged me inside. He planted me in one of the chairs by the wood burning stove while he finished his shopping and paid the bill.

It wasn't until we were in the wagon on the way home that my Pa spoke.

Son, seeing a man die isn't something you'll ever likely forget. I want you to remember what you saw and how you felt at seeing it. Guns should never come into play in an argument, unless you plan on killing someone. They should never be the first tool you use in solving a disagreement with anyone.

Always give your fellow man the opportunity to prove themselves to you. Some will prove worthy of your trust, while others will not. Never expect all men to treat you in the same manner that you treat them.

Be honest in everything you do in life. Be loyal to those who've earned it. Forgive the faults of your friends, and they will most likely forgive yours.

There will come a day in your life when you will have no choice but to use a gun to protect those you love or defend yourself.

Remember these things I've told you and you will do well in life.

Teaspoon's words voice faded as he glanced around at the group of boys gathered on the porch of Emma Shannon's house. All six had signed up to ride for the Pony Express and been assigned to the Sweetwater station for him to train. Train them he had. He'd even shown them his bag of tricks, wanting them to be as prepared as possible for any given situation they came across while they were on a ride.

All he had left was to share with them his vast knowledge of life and hoped they learned from what he taught them without experiencing firsthand some of the same mistakes he had over his life.