To Be You

By: Lady Angel



"Where's Chris?" Vin asked as he slumped down into a chair, eyes surveying the other saloon patrons. He smiled a 'thank you' at Inez as she placed a long neck before him.

Buck grinned at Inez before turning a slightly more mischievous smile to his friend. "With the lovely Miz Travis."

"Somethin' 'bout learnin' more 'bout the newspaper business," Nathan said, his eyes dancing with merriment.

All three men smirked.




She was trying, she really was. But it was absolutely no use. There was just no way on God's green earth that she could concentrate with a six foot something, black clad gunslinger sitting not five feet away and staring at her with those intense eyes. Mary threw her hands in the air, sighing in defeat.

"Mary? Something wrong?" Chris' quiet question was the first thing he had said in an hour. He placed the coffee filled cup down on Mary's desk in anticipation of trouble.

Mary whirled around, hands on hips. "Yes! I can't work!"

Chris gave her his trademark half smile. "And why is that, Mrs. Travis?"

Mary threw him a glare worthy of Chris himself.

He grinned widely. While not vain in any way, shape, or form, Larabee knew he was hard to ignore and having this particular woman admitting that he was distracting. . . . .

She groaned at his completely male smile but wasn't wholly successful at hiding her own smile. "That's it! Out! Now!"

The rogue turned puppy dog eyes at her, placing his hand over his heart.

Mary shook her head, trying her best not to laugh. The notoriously dangerous gunslinger Chris Larabee was giving her the puppy dog look!

"Do you really want me to leave?" He came to stand behind her.

Mary sighed, leaning towards his heat. "No, but I have an appointment."

"Really? With who?"

Mary threw a trouble-making grin over her shoulder. "Oh, no one too special . . . but he'll be here soon."

Chris' reaction was immediate – the tensing of his body behind hers and the low growl. "Who?"

Mary laughed. "Why, Mr. Larabee, are we jealous?"

"Miz Travis?" Vin's call was promptly followed by his knock on the office door.

Mary laughed even harder at the exasperated frown on Chris' handsome face. "Hello, Vin!"

Vin hesitantly stepped into the newspaper office, then froze. It was obvious that he was interrupting his best friend and his lady. "I'll come back later," Vin murmured quietly, already taking a step back.

"No, it's all right, Vin, Chris was just leaving." Mary tilted her head back, smiling at the now relaxed gunslinger.

"Nah," Vin shook his head. "We can do this another -- "

"No, Vin," Chris said, giving Mary a chastising glare. "You and Mary need to finish 'Usher', can't just leave in the middle of a story like that."

Vin smiled shyly at his friend. "You like that story?"

Chris, who had been shrugging into his coat, paused with a grin. "Poe's one of my favorite writers." His smile turned slightly sad. "Sarah loved 'The Bells'." He laughed. "I hated that poem. . . all those 'bells'."

Vin shared his friend's small chuckle. "Yeah, just finished that poem last week." He glanced over at Mary and saw the misty smile on her lips. This was one of the few times they had witnessed Chris remembering his dead wife with only a little sadness. "Hey, cowboy?"

Chris was pulled from his memories. "Yeah?"

"Wanna stay?" Vin blushed. "My readin's ain't that good yet, but maybe . . ."

Chris' smile was nothing but encouragement. "Sure, Vin."

"I have an idea," Mary said with a smile at the two men, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Since I can't seem to concentrate today." Her emphasis and pointed glare made both men laugh. "Chris, why don't you help Vin with his reading today?"

Her suggestion seemed to startle both men but they shared a glance before both simultaneously moving to the desk. Mary was still struck by the uniqueness of their silent communication. It was a marvelous thing to observe. She smiled, putting aside the thought for later. Now, the newspaperwoman sat down, ready to simply relax, letting Chris' and Vin's soothing voices float about her.




Josiah put down the hammer, wiping the sweat from his brow. He smiled in satisfaction -- another pew was nearly finished. He wandered into the night, enjoying the rare fresh breeze blowing through the street.

A strange muttering caught the ex-preacher's ears.

Josiah frowned as he followed the sound to its source. His eyes widened at the sight. "Mr. Matthews! No!"

"Stay out of this, Preacher!" The rancher took a step back further into the shadows behind the church, the gun never waving from his own temple.

Josiah held his hands out before him, his voice as soothing as he could make it. "Please, Mr. Matthews, put the gun down."

"Why should I? There's no damn point!"

Josiah inched forward. "Tell me, Mr. Matthews, maybe I can help."

The old man vehemently shook his head. "I worked my whole damn life for that place! My whole damn life! All I wanted to do was make a decent place for my family!"

"I know that, Ed." Josiah switched to the ranting man's given name, trying to connect with the distraught man. "Why don't you put the gun down, then we can sit down and talk about it."

"Damn banker! Just can't wait two more goddamn days! Nooooo! Has to have the money now!"

"What money, Ed?" Josiah was only two feet away now.

"Just two more days. . . that's all I need! Two more!" Matthew started to cock the gun.

Josiah jumped, catching the gun's cylinder. The burn in the palm of his hand didn't stand a chance against the preacher's relief. He caught the now sobbing man.

His voice was soft, deep, and understanding. "Let's sit down, brother."




"You were right, she is perfect."

The taller blonde smiled with pleasure as her young protégé bounced with excitement. "I'm glad you like her."

"She's soo pretty! And him!"

The older woman froze. "Him?"

The young brunette nodded. "He's so strong and handsome! I love him already!" she said dreamily, the image of the black clad peacekeeper and blonde-haired newspaperwoman walking down the boardwalk appearing in her mind.

The older woman made agreeing noises as she slowly picked up a brush. She began brushing the long brown hair, forcing her hands and voice to be gentle. "He'll be yours, my dear. But first you need to take care of her."

Suzanne smiled dreamily. "I will. I'll take care of her very soon."

Ella nodded indulgently. 'Yes, you take care of Mrs. Mary Travis, and then I'll take care of you.'




Josiah slowly lowered himself into the chair by Nathan's side, smiling a greeting his friends.

"Tired, Josiah?" JD asked, pushing a glass towards the older man before turning back to his dinner.

"Not as young as I used to be, JD." Josiah sipped the amber liquid appreciatively. Smiles broke out around the table. He took another sip before turning serious eyes to the men before him. "Ezra, I need your help."

The southerner stilled the cards in his hands. "How can I help, Preacher?" The smile turned into a roguish grin. "And what do I get out of it?"

"Saving a man's life good enough?" Josiah's smile was grim. That got everyone's attention.

"What's goin' on, Josiah?" Nathan leaned forward, not sure why Josiah would need Ezra's help.

"Ed Matthews, he owns the spread south of town." Josiah stopped when he saw the nods. "He tried to kill himself tonight."

Surprised exclamations sounded from several voices.

Josiah continued. "He's going to lose his spread because he owes the bank money. A lot of money."

Ezra leaned forward. "How much money does Mr. Matthews owe?"

Josiah inhaled deeply. "A thousand."

JD whistled, while Nathan sat back in shock.

Ezra was wide eyed. "Josiah, even if I were inclined to lend out money – which I'm not – I do not have that kind of money."

Josiah ran his hands through his hair. "Well, that's the thing, Ed's got most of it already. He just needs a day or two to get the rest of it."

"So what's the problem?" Nathan poured himself another drink. It sounded like this was going to be a long discussion.

"The banker won't give him the extra time." Josiah snorted. "Hardnose bastard can't hold off a day or two. . . has to have the money by Thursday."

"And Mr. Matthews needs only two more days to gather his funds?"

Josiah nodded. "Can you help him, Ez?"

Ezra leaned back into his chair, silent as he played the deck in his hands. The others watched in anticipation as the conman did what he did best. . . scheming. The slow dimpled smile had everyone else smiling in return.

The four men leaned forward, already plotting.




Standing in the darkened bedroom, she listened for a few to the sounds of the town as it settled in for the evening before turning her attention back to the wardrobe before her. She trailed fingers over the delicate fabrics, savoring their lushness. Her eyes hungrily absorbed all the information she could, filing it away for future use. She took her time because she knew that the house would be empty for quite a while. Her smile was dreamy as she slipped on the deep wine gown, twisting her hair up into a bun before moving to look at herself in the moonlit mirror. She frowned, noticing that her hair was the wrong color.

That would have to be remedied.




"Mother? May I borrow a moment of your time?"

Maude smiled up at her son. "Well, of course, mah sweet boy."

Ezra smiled as he seated himself, getting ready to sell the idea to his toughest critic. "Mother, I know you've been . . . restless here in Four Corners --"

"Ezra, sugar, are you trying to get rid of me already?" Maude calmly dealt the cards, not letting her hurt show.

"Actually, Mother," Ezra sighed, knowing with the intuition of a son that he had hurt her. "Do you remember the time you helped us catch Stephan Travis' killers? How you help set up Mr. Wheeler so beautifully with the lynching mob?"

Maude smiled. "Well, of course, I do! It was nice working with you again."

Ezra grinned. "How would you like to help again?"

Maude raised a brow. "Ezra, mah boy, I do believe I've done my good deed for the month by warning you about that Perkins woman."

Ezra's grin grew. "You mean you wouldn't be interested in conning a banker into believing that tomorrow is today?"




"Well, that was an enjoyable evening!" Evelyn Travis smiled down at Billy, as he walked energetically between his grandmother and grandfather.

"Yes, thank you, Chris, for treating us to that nice dinner." Judge Travis looked over his shoulder.

Chris nodded, guiding Mary around some tumbleweed. "My pleasure, Judge."

Mary unlocked the Clarion's doors. "It's a shame you can't stay longer."

Evelyn laughed quietly. "A judge's life is never boring, nor stationary."

Travis huffed. "Neither is a judge's wife's life." He turned conspiratorially to Chris. "She just wants to get back to Eagle Bend in time to judge the quilt making contest."

Everyone laughed as Evelyn mockingly slapped her husband on the arm.

"Oh!" Mary exclaimed. "I have something for you." The Travises, Billy, and Chris watched as Mary hurried up stairs.

Travis rolled his eyes. "Probably her entry for the contest."

Chris hid his smirk in Billy's hair.

"CHRIS!"

Billy was quickly passed to Travis as Chris flew past them and up the stairs. "Mary!" He skidded to a stop inside her bedroom. Running his eyes quickly around the room, Chris noticed the rumpled bedspread and items strewn on the floor. He grabbed her, pulling her away from her wardrobe. "What is it?"

Mary drew in ragged breaths. "Someone's been here."




"But, Ma!"

"No, Billy, you have to --"

"But I want to stay with you and Chris!" Billy clung tightly to his mother's skirts, refusing to go to his grandmother's outstretched arms.

"Billy." The one word was a compelling order and the little boy reluctantly obeyed it. He released Mary's skirts to stand in front of Chris' long legs, his eyes never lifting from the spur-adorned boots.

Chris gently picked up the young boy, tipping his chin up so that he could see the tear stained face. "Your ma needs you to be safe, Billy."

"But, Chris!"

"No 'buts', Billy. You're going to go with the Judge and your grandma. When this is all over, me and the boys will come get you."

Billy stayed silent and still in the gunslinger's arms.

Chris sighed as Mary rubbed a soothing hand on her son's back. "I'll miss you, Billy."

Mary nearly sobbed as Billy almost suffocated her as he hugged her tight. Chris got the same treatment before he placed the little boy into the stagecoach.

"Chris."

"Judge." Larabee shook the hand that his boss offered. "If you need . . . ."

The judge nodded. "I know, I remember." The two men had worked out a telegraph code in case of emergencies. Both hoped that they wouldn't have to use it.

Billy waved good-bye until he couldn't see his ma or Chris any longer.

Mary stifled a sob, leaning into Chris' side.

"It had to be done, Mary."

"I know, but I'm going to miss him so much."

Chris nodded, tightening his arms. "It's only until we find out who's been pretending to be you." He had been worried about Billy's safety ever since Nathan's trial, when Lightfoot told them about the woman pretending to be Mary had approached him. And then when Mary discovered several missing items from her closet this morning, it was the last straw. Sending Billy with the Judge and Evie had been the only way to keep him safe.

Mary nodded, understanding the necessity, but it didn't make her feel any better.