TITLE: Love And Bullets
AUTHOR: Sandra Nitchman
FEEDBACK: snitch@earthlink.net
STANDARD DISCLAIMER: The Young Riders don't belong to the author, but to
MGM/UA Television, Ed Spielman and Josh Kane. No copyright infringement
intended.

                              Love And Bullets
                             By Sandra Nitchman

April 1859

Winter had finally released it's frozen grip on the town of Sweetwater and
spring was in full bloom. Most people had shed their heavy coats in favor of
shirt sleeves and smiles were much in evidence. Standing outside of his
office, a cup of coffee in one hand, Sweetwater's Marshal trained his
watchful eye on the town. While he welcomed the warmer weather, he knew that
it also brought out all sorts of undesirable folk. This spring and the
summer months that followed, would be a busy time for he and his Deputies.

As he looked for signs of trouble, he noticed a small crowd of people
forming in the center of town. They were apparently observing the town's
mayor as he directed the raising of a banner. Sam continued to watch and sip
his coffee as ropes were pulled to slowly lift the banner so that it hung
over the middle of the street. Since the printing wasn't facing his office,
Sam couldn't read what it said. His curiosity getting the better of him, he
stepped off the sidewalk and made his way towards the crowd.

By now, the small crowd had grown and a festive spirit filled the air.
Standing among them, Deputy Marshal Dave Reardon spotted his boss and waved
him over. He greeted Marshal Cain with a big, infectious grin. "Howdy Sam.
Don't worry, I've got everything under control."

Sam smiled back at his friend, clapping a hand on the shorter man's
shoulder, "I can see that, Dave." He glanced up, reading the banner. "Spring
Dance? Is it that time all ready?" he wondered aloud.

"We missed it last year, remember?"

"Yeah," replied Sam, giving his stubbled chin a scratch, "I seem to remember
it having something to do with the Morgan gang."

"Them boys were trouble, that's for sure." agreed Dave, thinking back on the
long, hard week he and Sam had spent tracking the outlaws. "Well," he
continued, "I promised Claire that I'd take her this year... no matter
what." He cast a worried glance at his boss. "You weren't planning on goin',
were ya?" One of them would have to be on call that evening. They could
leave the new man, Barnett, in charge but Dave didn't think he was ready.
Nor, for that matter, was Sweetwater.

"I ain't considered it yet." Sam replied evenly. The image of untamed, red
hair framing the fair, lightly freckled face of Emma Shannon came into his
mind.

Looking aside at Sam, Dave suspected that he knew what the Lawman was
thinking about. "Well, ya' got less then two weeks for considerin'." he
warned, "Don't wait too long."

Sam gave his Deputy a questioning look, wondering what he was talking about.
"What're you talkin' about?"

Before Dave could answer, Miss Martha Stuart bustled over to where the
lawmen stood, all aflutter with excitement. "Good morning, Marshal Cain...
Deputy." The men returned her greetings. Despite the fact that she was a
pretty, friendly woman, Martha had yet to marry. Most people figured it had
to do with her flighty and slightly annoying personality.

Turning her full attention to the tall, handsome and available Marshal Cain,
she gave Dave, a married man, no more thought.

"Isn't it exciting?" she practically squealed in delight, "The spring dance
is just around the corner! I hope you're planning on attending this year."

Although the statement was obviously directed to Sam, it was Dave who
answered her. "The Marshal and I were just discussing that, ma'am. Weren't
we, Sam?" He took great pains to harass his boss whenever he could and
counted on their friendship to save him from being strangled. The glare he
received from Sam made him wonder if maybe he'd gone too far this time. Ever
since arriving in Sweetwater, the Marshal had been sought out by most of the
available womenfolk as a prospective husband. Some of them had since given
up. Miss Stuart wasn't one of them. She was his most ardent admirer and Sam
had tried everything he could to dissuade her without hurting her feelings.

"Yes, we were, Dave." answered Sam, slowly. "But we can't make any plans
because of the nature of our job, you understand, ma'am"

She nodded her agreement and was about to say something more when Sam, his
attention directed elsewhere, interrupted with a quick "Excuse us ma'am."
Grabbing Dave's shirt sleeve, he abruptly pulled him away from the
bewildered woman and through the crowd.

Dave was a little confused himself. "What's up, Sam?" he asked, running to
keep up with the long legged strides of the Marshal.

Sam didn't answer but drew his gun and began running towards the bank. His
Deputy still hadn't seen anything wrong but didn't waste any time following
his boss's lead. Together they made their way towards the building. Before
reaching the bank, Sam gestured for Dave to go around to the back. He then
worked his way along the front of the building until he crouched next to the
front window. Peering cautiously into the bank, he saw two men with guns
drawn. One covering the customers while his partner oversaw the manager as
he stuffed bags with money. Mulling over the situation, Sam decided it would
be best not to burst in and risk a gun fight that might injure the innocent
people inside. Glancing around quickly, he saw what must be the outlaw's
horses waiting patiently in front of the bank. Taking care to stay low, he
crept to the hitching post, untied the two horses and gave each of them a
swat on the rump to get them going down the street.

Sam had just returned to his place against the wall when the men burst out
of the bank. They had barely taken two steps when they noticed that their
horses were gone.

"U.S. Marshal. Put your hands up!" Sam had stepped from his place of
concealment and now stood between the outlaws and the bank, his gun cocked
and ready. Both men spun instantly, dropping the money bags and going for
their guns. Sam got the first man before his gun cleared the holster. The
other one got a shot off but the Marshal's aim was better and the outlaw
fell back onto the dirt street, mortally wounded.

The sound of gunfire had brought Dave running from around the back of the
building. He found Sam kneeling next to the would-be bank robbers. The
Deputy stood looking down at the two men sprawled on the ground. "Well," he
said to Sam "I see you didn't need my help."

Sam turned his head to look up at his Deputy, a grim look on his face. "Next
time, I'll watch the back door, ok?" He stood up, stretching his tall frame
and returned his gun to its holster. By this time, a crowd had gathered.
Many of whom had just been watching the banner being raised. Sam scanned the
faces seeing Sweetwater's doctor making his way through the people.

"'Fraid there ain't much you can do for 'em, Doc." he informed the older
man.

Casting a quick glance at the men, the doctor knelt and felt for signs of
life. Shaking his head slowly he looked up at the Marshal and his Deputy.
"No...I guess not." he replied, "But I would like to have a look at that arm
of yours."

Sam looked at the Doctor, a puzzled expression on his face. He hadn't felt
anything during the confrontation with the bank robbers but now he was aware
of the burning sensation in his arm. Looking down, he saw the blood seeping
through his shirt sleeve.

"Ah, dang!" he exclaimed, "This is my new shirt!

                                    *****

Sam made his way downstairs into the office, buttoning the faded blue shirt
he'd found stashed in his trunk. The bullet had just creased his bicep but
the wound had been deep enough to require some stitching. The Doctor said
he'd be sore for a few days, but would otherwise be all right. His new
shirt, on the other hand, was ripped and blood stained and nothing could be
done for it. Looking up, he saw Dave sitting in the lone office chair, his
feet propped up on the desk, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands.

"Comfortable, Dave?" he asked, not even attempting to mask the sarcasm in
his voice.

Dave turned his head to look in Sam's direction before replying, "Yeah,
thanks for askin'."

Sam shook his head, unable to stop the smile that crept over his face. His
Deputy was all business when he needed to be but the rest of the time he
sure could try a man's patience. Walking up to the desk, Sam swatted Dave's
feet off their perch so he could lean on it.

"Everything taken care of?"

"Oh, yeah." replied his Deputy, "The undertaker has the bodies. I had
Barnett chase after their horses and they're stabled at the Livery. The
saddlebags are over there on the table." he pointed to the heavy, oak table
in the corner. "The bank manager has the money all accounted for and..." he
paused, taking a sip from his cup, "Miss Martha Stuart will be stopping by
to make sure you're ok."

This last statement almost made Sam fall off of the desk. "What was that
last part?" he asked, although he knew perfectly well what Dave had said.

"She was concerned about ya' and was gonna stop by later."

Sam looked long and hard at his Deputy to see if he was pulling his leg but
Dave's apologetic look convinced him that it was no joke. A heavy sigh
escaped the Marshal's lips and he pushed himself off of the desk. Walking
over to the front window, he looked through the thick glass until he was
satisfied that the coast was clear. It wasn't that Martha was a bad person,
but until Sam could figure out a way to make her realize that he wasn't
interested, the best course of action was for him to avoid her. He heard
Dave walk up and stand beside him at the window.

"This might be the perfect time for you to do something about the dance."

Sam couldn't understand why Dave was making such a big deal out of this
dance. If Sam wanted to go, he would. If he wanted to escort a certain woman
to the dance, he'd ask her...in his own good time.

"I wouldn't wait too long Sam." continued Dave, " I happen to know that
Mitch at the Livery has mentioned Emma's name a lot lately.

"What?"

"Oh yeah. Then there's always ol' Jamie Murphy at the mill. I wouldn't be
surprised if he asks her to the dance."

Sam glanced at his Deputy, a stricken look on his face. "She wouldn't go
with him, would she?"

"Well, I don't know." began Dave, stroking his chin, deep in thought, "She
might. Unless someone else asks her first. If you know what I mean."

Sam knew exactly what he meant. Striding towards the door, he grabbed his
hat from the peg on the wall and set it firmly on his head. "I'll be back
shortly." was all he said as he left the office. Standing at the window,
Dave watched Sam mount his horse and ride out of town at a gallop. A big
grin spread across his face. He walked back to the chair and sat down,
propping his feet up on the desk.

                                    *****

The sound of a rapidly approaching horse made Emma look up from her
gardening. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she recognized Sweetwater's
Marshal riding into her yard. He hadn't been out her way in some time and
Emma wondered what could have prompted this visit. Rising, she brushed the
dirt from her skirt and tucked a few stray hairs into her hat. She also
hoped that she didn't have any of the dirt on her face.

Spotting her by the front walkway, Sam slowed his mount, stopping by the
hitching post. He looked down at her and gave what he hoped looked like an
easy-going smile. He felt anything but easy-going right now. "Mornin',
Emma." he managed to say, touching the brim of his hat.

"Morning', Sam." she returned, " What brings you out my way?"

The Marshal dismounted, looping the reins around the post and walked over to
where she stood. She looked absolutely fetching in her simple print dress
and wide-brimmed hat. Gazing at her, he was suddenly aware of his unshaven
chin and old, faded shirt.

"Well, ah...I was just in the area and thought I'd stop by to see how you
were doin'" he replied lamely.

Emma gave him a warm smile. "Why that's kind of you, Sam. I'm doing jes'
fine."

"That's good to hear."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something more. She
knew perfectly well that he wasn't just "in the area". Whatever the reason
for his visit, Emma figured that he'd get around to it sooner or later.

Sam removed his hat, combing through his hair with his fingers, desperately
stalling for time. On the ride out to her place, he had rehearsed what he
was going to say. But now that he was here, standing in front of her, he
couldn't remember a darn thing. Maybe he should have just waited until she
came into town. But Dave was right, he reckoned, if he didn't do something
soon, somebody else would.

Steeling his nerves, he plunged on ahead. "Emma... I was wonderin' if you
were planning on goin' to the dance next Saturday."

"I wouldn't miss it." she replied. Her dark eyes looked directly into his
blue ones. "Why do you ask?" For a moment he lost himself in her gaze,
feeling, as much as seeing, the sparkle that lit up her entire face. A lock
of hair flew free of it's restraint, waving about her face. Emma reached up
and tucked it behind her ear.

"Well...I was wonderin' if maybe you'd like to go with me."<italic>There,
that wasn't so bad</italic>, he thought, letting out the breath he didn't
even realize he'd been holding.

Emma lowered her gaze for a moment before raising her eyes to look at him
again. The smile that came to her face was all the answer he needed. "I'd
like that, Sam."

                                    *****

The dance was all ready in full swing when Sam Cain walked into the hall
with Emma Shannon on his arm. A number of heads turned to see the new
arrivals. Emma noticed the town's gossips looking in their direction. The
women stared for a moment with open mouths before putting their heads back
together, talking animatedly. In a town as small as Sweetwater, any new
event was welcomed with open arms and wagging tongues. The fact that she was
being escorted to the dance by Marshal Cain would give them something to
talk and speculate about for days.

A smile came to her face as she remembered her first sight of him earlier
that evening. Dressed in his best, and probably only suit, Sam had come to
her door holding a bouquet of wildflowers that he had picked on the ride out
to her place. He looked very handsome and Emma figured that he had most
likely spent as much time preparing for the evening as she had. By the way
he gaped at her, she knew that he appreciated her efforts also.

The ride into town had been pleasant enough. Though at first, it seemed as
if Emma would be the only one of them saying anything. Sam sat ramrod
straight on the buckboard's seat, looking a trifle uncomfortable, tugging
frequently at his shirt collar. Emma figured it wasn't just the suit that
was making him restless. As the setting sun cast it's glow on the low hills,
she was able to coax a few stories out of him. She, in turn, told him about
how the town had changed since she had first arrived many years ago. She
didn't mention her absent husband as it wasn't the time or place for such
things. By the time they arrived at the edge of town, Sam had visibly
relaxed and was relating some of his more humorous run-ins with his
erstwhile suitor, Martha Stuart.

A change in the music brought her back to the present to find Sam watching
her. "Would you like to dance, Emma?"

"Yes, I would."

Emma held lightly to Sam's arm as he guided her through the crowd to the
dance floor. In the last week, he had spent whatever spare time he had
brushing up on his very rusty dancing skills. Dave had walked in on him once
and, after he'd finished laughing, had volunteered his services as Emma's
stand-in. An offer Sam was quick to refuse. Placing one hand on Emma's waist
and holding her hand in his other, he led her into the waltz. He prayed that
he didn't step on her feet.

As they made their way around the dance floor, Emma was pleasantly surprised
to find that Sweetwater's Marshal was light on his feet. She had danced with
quite a few men in her lifetime and didn't care to remember the many times
she'd been stepped on or run into. Dancing with Sam, though, felt
comfortable. He held her gently, yet firmly and appeared to have a natural
sense of rhythm. She didn't feel any of the awkwardness that comes with
unfamiliarity. What she like most was that, unlike most men, he didn't avoid
her eyes.

The musicians played one song after another, switching from hand-clapping,
foot stomping reels to waltz's without giving the dancers much of a chance
to rest in between. Sam had lost count of how many tunes he and Emma had
danced to. He enjoyed the slower ones the best, when he could hold her
close. Now he watched Emma as she made her way back to him, her face aglow
with the exertion of the dance. Catching her, he swung her around, having
the time of his life.

That feeling was to be short lived, however, when he spotted his newest
Deputy enter the hall. Sam hoped he was just stopping by, but the worried
expression on Barnett's face could only mean that something had come up that
was beyond his ability to handle. Handing Emma off to the banker, Mr.
Morris, Sam excused himself and motioned Barnett to an empty corner where
they could talk in relative privacy.

Trying, without success, to hide his annoyance at being interrupted, Sam
asked, "What is it, Barnett?" a bit shortly.

Knowing what kind of temper his boss could have, Barnett swallowed nervously
before informing the Marshal of the reason he had interrupted his evening.
Sam listened in growing frustration. Just once, he'd like to have an
uneventful night. Looking back to the dancers, he searched for Emma.
Catching a flash of her red hair, his eyes followed her as she moved
gracefully around the dance floor. As she and her current partner neared the
corner where he stood with Barnett, he caught her attention. Giving her a
small, regretful shrug he stalked out of the hall with Barnett in tow.

                                    *****

A little over a half an hour later, Sam returned to the dance. He found Emma
in the company of Dave and Claire Reardon. She gave him a warm, welcoming
smile, making his heart skip a beat.

"Everything all right now, Sam?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"What was that all about?" inquired Dave.

"Just a little disturbance over at the Wild Horse. Nothin' serious." Sam
answered, which wasn't exactly true. Barnett had been right to get his help
to break up a potentially deadly situation. Being new in town and mostly
unknown to most of the men in the saloon put Barnett at a disadvantage. The
fact that he was also inexperienced at his job, didn't make it any easier.
Sam, on the other hand, with his hard-won reputation could usually diffuse
such situations without spilling any blood.

But Sam didn't want to talk shop with his Deputy. He had responsibilities to
a certain red-headed beauty and he was determined to fulfill them. Offering
his hand to Emma, he led her back to the dance floor.

                                    *****

Throughout the course of the evening, Sam had to excuse himself periodically
to handle various problems. Emma was understanding, but he knew that she
must have been as frustrated as he. What had started out as a promising
opportunity to further his courting of her, quickly turned into an equally
opportune chance for his many rivals. Each time Sam had returned, he found
Emma dancing with a different partner. He knew he had no right to deny her
such pleasure but couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Fortunately
for him, Emma would welcome him back and they would dance with each other
until the next interruption.

All too soon, the band played the last song. When the haunting ballad ended,
Sam held Emma for a moment longer than usual, not wanting to let her go. She
didn't try to pull away but held his eyes for a moment, a smile playing at
her mouth. Tracing her hands down along his arms, she grasped his hands,
giving them a quick squeeze.

"Whoo-we!" exclaimed Dave, coming up behind them with his wife. "I think I'm
just about danced out. How 'bout you, Sam?"

"Nope." Sam replied, casting a sidelong look at Emma who stood next to him,
her arm looped through his, "I reckon I could dance all night."

"Yeah, but would Emma's feet survive?" retorted Dave, laughing heartily at
Sam's expense. Sam gave Dave's shoulder a light jab, but grinned anyway.
Despite the constant interruptions, he'd had a wonderful evening and even
Dave's teasing couldn't change that.

Emma had chuckled softly at Dave's comment but looked sternly at him now.
"Deputy, I'll have you know that Marshal Cain is a fine dancer. In fact, he
only stepped on my feet once the entire evenin'."

"You faired better than I did, Emma." chimed in Claire, "Dave's feet spent
more time on top of mine then on the floor!" Now it was Sam's turn to laugh
as Dave's face quickly flushed red in embarrassment.

Dave endured the laughter knowing that he'd been had, but good. "Well, I am
sorry about that, darlin'. Maybe Sam can give me some pointers."

"It could only help." his wife replied. She squeezed her husband's arm,
letting him know that she was only teasing.

The four of them made their way outside with the rest of the dancers. Sam
hadn't realized how stuffy the smoke-filled hall was until the cool night
air washed over him. He felt good. Looking at Emma, who was talking with
Claire, he knew why. She must have sensed his scrutiny because she turned
her head to look at him. She gave him a smile that he was coming to know so
well.

Claire couldn't help but notice the look that passed between them. Walking
over to her husband she took his arm. "Dave, I think it's time you took me
home. It's gettin' late and I'm tired." Dave had also noticed and he figured
that Sam would like to spend some time alone with Emma.

"All right, Claire. I'm goin'." They said their goodnights and walked off,
arm in arm, down the street. Emma watched after them, a wistful expression
on her face.

"Emma? Would you like me to take you home now?"

"Yes. I'm feeling a little tired myself."

                                    *****

"Whoa, boy!" Sam brought the buckboard to a stop in front of Emma's house.
Laying the reins over the rail, he climbed down and then offered his hand to
Emma. She grasped his hand lightly, hitched up her skirt and stepped down.

"Thank you for escorting' me to the dance, Sam. I had a wonderful time."

"It was my pleasure, Emma." Realizing that he was still holding her hand,
Sam reluctantly let go. "I'll walk you to the door."

They walked slowly up the path to the house. Though he tried hard not to
show it, Sam was nervous. He shouldn't be, he told himself. The evening had
gone well and Emma had made it plain what her feelings towards him where.
Still, he wasn't sure if her feelings would include a goodnight kiss.

When they reached her front door, Emma stopped and turned towards Sam,
waiting for him to make the next move.

Sam cleared his throat. "I'll put the buckboard away for ya' 'for I go,
Emma."

"Thank you, Sam." She stood there for a moment longer, giving him ample
opportunity to kiss her. The fact that he didn't made her wonder whether she
had misread his intentions. Well, she wasn't going to wait all night to find
out. "Goodnight, Sam." she said a bit curtly, turning back towards the door
and reaching for the handle.

"Emma..." She turned around at the sound of her name, spoken softly. Sam
stepped towards her, closing the distance between them. His hand lightly
brushed against hers sending a rush of chills up her spine. Their fingers
entwined as he slowly leaned towards her. Emma closed her eyes, tilting her
head back, and waited. She could feel his breath as he reached her waiting
lips. Then, at the last moment, he moved slightly, kissing her lightly on
the cheek instead.

As he pulled back, Sam saw Emma's eyes snap open and her expression darken.
He braced himself for the blow that was likely to come next.

"Cain't you do better than that?"

Releasing the breath he'd been holding, Sam brought his lips to hers, giving
her a soft, sweet kiss. He allowed his lips to linger for a moment before
drawing back. Gazing at Emma, he knew that he'd found what he didn't even
know he was searching for. Then he was kissing her again, more passionately
this time. His arms encircled her slim waist, pulling her body close. She
returned his kiss with a fervor that surprised and delighted him. When their
lips finally parted, he had to catch his breath.

Sam looked a bit sheepishly at her. "I've wanted to do that for a long
time." he admitted.

"Well, I'd say it was worth the wait."

He chuckled softly at her response. Lifting a hand, Sam gently caressed her
face, tracing along the line of her jaw. Emma closed her eyes, enjoying the
feel of his touch. His strong arms enfolded her, giving her a warm,
protective feeling that she hadn't had in a long while. Resting her head
against his chest, she breathed in the scent of his cologne, mixed with his
sweat and the dust of the road. They stood this way for a while, saying
nothing.

Sam sighed heavily. He'd given Dave the night off and was supposed to
relieve Barnett at midnight which meant he had to leave.

"I best be gettin' back, Emma."

She lifted her head to look up at him. "You have to?"

He nodded. "Goodnight, Emma." He gave her a quick kiss, wanting it to last
longer but knowing he'd never leave if it did.

Sam opened the front door and held it for Emma. Before going inside, she
looked him in the eyes, an amused expression on her face. "I expect I'll be
seeing a lot more of you, Marshal."

He grinned widely. "I 'spect so, ma'am."

                                  The End