Dr. Whateley spoke at length with Coraline as they took a walk that lead them to the periphery of town, speaking of magic and the workings of it, and of what they might both do now that they had managed to successfully deal with the threats. After some time, he departed, making back for the heart of the town, while Coraline looked out in the dark of night at the open prairie.

Cold.

It was always how it was at first, his body shaking like he had been abandoned to the elements in the deep of a Montana winter. Every muscle within him convulsed with the sensation, leaving him unable to do anything but curl up on the packed earth and wait, wait until the horrific sensation ran its course.

”Hell and damnation,” he snarled, his voice hollow, like iron scraping iron.

It’ll pass, he reminded himself, It always does.

In time, it did, allowing Morgan to stand shakily to his feet. He closed his eyes, struggling to calm his ragged breathing, his body aching from his transformation into something that should never have been.

Quantrill was dead. He could see the raider’s destruction through the red tunnel of his animal memory.

But at what cost?

What might the others now think? The companions he had come to care for over the last weeks? How might they see him now that they knew he was a…

beast

He blinked at the thought, realizing as he did that he felt something different within, a weight on his soul that had never been present before. It stood to reason. Every time the creature had woken, it had been against his will, the result of the full moon and its irresistible pull. But tonight, he had loosed the monster of his own free will, unleashed it on Oakley out of his stubborn need to see things made right.

He had kept the creature under rein. It had harmed no one that was innocent. Of that, he was certain.

He looked to the west, where he could see the lights of the town. A town that the raiders had been unable to put to the torch.

Whisper would be there. The horse was faithful. He would wait. There were fresh clothes in his saddlebags. He glanced down at his only remaining garment, his tattered jeans. He looked like a marooned sailor.

And when he reached Oakley? Would he find welcome, or fear? Would he be forced to return to being a lone marshal, hunting…

prey

No. He suppressed the savage thought. Fugitives. Outlaws. Those who needed to be brought to justice.

The fact was, he couldn’t know. He couldn’t even begin to imagine where the future led. He had been obsessed with stopping Quantrill and his kind for so long, he suddenly understood that he was without direction. Absent of a clear path.

Ignoring the stiffness in his muscles, he began the walk back to Oakley.

Figures moved in the darkness, seen only in a blur of gray fur or the flash of gleaming eyes, golden and familiar and ever watchful.  They were pacing, escorting, protecting.  It was a familiar scene in some ways, a kinship of sorts, but something in their manner had changed.  As the firelight of Oakley grew closer, it became clear why.

A feminine silhouette came into focus against the soft glow, long dress and dark tresses catching the light as she turned.  One of the wolves paced forward, closing in, but there was no scream or surprise or fear.  Coraline bent down to greet the large animal, running a bare hand through its fur and scratching it behind the ears.  It didn't simply tolerate her touch; it actually leaned into it, accepting and understanding, even enjoying.

"Thank you," she said quietly.  A heartbeat later, the pack had dispersed and Coraline straightened, searching the darkness.  Tentatively, she called out.  "Caleb?  Are you there?"

The wolves had warned her of his approach, but she was uncertain if he'd be in the mood to talk.  After what had happened, after the revelation of his hidden nature, she could understand if he wanted to avoid them all and ride off on his own, but she hoped that wasn't the case.  Coraline had her own demons come to light and understood what it was to have to defend her very nature.  She couldn't begin to fathom the depth of the burden he carried, but she'd had a taste of it in her own life.

"I brought your saddlebag," she continued, lifting the leather satchel off the ground.  "I thought you might need... a few things."

The wolves had told him Hawthorne was near. Morgan hadn't asked for them to accompany her, to escort her across the dark grassland. The pack had sensed her character, her compassion, all on their own, and chosen to protect her. The significance of their choice was not lost on him.

When she spoke, he emerged from the shadows. He approached her slowly, wanting her to know that he was no longer the raging monster she had witnessed just a short time ago. He accepted the saddlebag gratefully.

"I can't...I can't thank you enough for your kindness, Miss Hawthorne," he said quietly, his voice now mostly his own once more. "If you'll excuse me a moment."

When he returned, he was clothed in a clean shirt and jeans, his spare pair of black boots on his feet. He gazed at her for a long moment, the light from the nearby town framing her softly, setting her apart from the long shadows of the prairie.

"I didn't know if you, or any of the others would want to see me," he said, "Now that..."

His gaze fell.

"Now that you know what I am."

"Well, I cannot say that I was not shocked at the transformation, but I should have guessed that your connection with wolves went a little deeper."  Her smile may have been lost to the darkness, but her tone was warm and full of compassion.  "You have nothing to fear from us.  All of us carry our own demons and secrets.  Some just have heavier burdens.  I am fairly certain that no one is going to shun you, though do not be surprise if the albino lays into you about hiding such a dangerous secret.  He seems to think he knows what is best for everyone."

She shook her head.  "He thinks you put us at risk by not divulging the beast hiding within.  I obviously do not see it that way.  You willingly relinquished control to that dark part of yourself to save us all, and were able to control yourself when you did it.  Quantrill is truly dead because of you and can no longer spread his blight upon the world.  I cannot imagine how difficult it was for you to let go and become that... creature, but you saved a lot of lives doing it.  I do not think the townfolk will ever realize how close they came to being slaughtered down to every man, woman, and child.  If you had not stopped Quantrill, I have no doubt that's exactly what would have happened."

Stepping closer, Coraline placed a comforting hand on his arm.  "Are you going to be... alright?  I was worried that the transition might have other ill effects from which you would need to recover.  Can I do anything for you?"

He nodded, grateful for her kind touch. "I'm spent. Weak. My thoughts get...tangled. It takes a little time for me to find myself again."

He looked to the lights of Oakley, then back to her, "Could you stay here with me, just for a little while? I'm not ready to return. Not just yet."

Morgan had spent years keeping his emotions in check. So much time that doing so had become an unconscious habit. Before, when he had recovered from the wolf's presence, he had always done so alone, unaware of how raw, how unguarded he was in the wake of the transformation.

As he looked at her again, he felt a deep need to tell her, to lay bare his experience, certain that she, of all people, would understand.

"I didn't choose this," he said, his words slow, halting. "I don't suppose anyone would. I survived an attack by a monster. The only one who survived, actually, only to find out later that I had become one myself. I've spent a lot of time trying to find a way to rid myself of it. If it exists, I've yet to stumble across it. A Cheyenne medicine man, very old, very wise, once told me that there was no way to cast the shadow away. That it was up to me to hold its power. To keep it in check."

He shook his head. "When the moon is full, I can't stop it. At nightfall, I change, no matter what. It's at its strongest then. Completely beyond my control. Once I understood that, I did the only thing I could do. I sought out an abandoned farmhouse, an old, sturdy tree with deep roots, even a boulder. Anything I could use as a makeshift prison, to chain myself up. Once a month, it's how I pass the night."

"The truth is, that's part of the reason I became a Marshal. You're alone all the time. Riding in the wilderness, hunting desperate men. I took to it quickly enough. Because of my curse, I'm a better tracker than most. And I have help, when I need it. And doing the job, it made it easy to keep people at a distance. Not to have anyone close."

"I managed to keep it that way, until that train ride we all shared not long ago."

He sighed. "When I let it loose, I did it because I was afraid a handful of straight shots weren't going to be enough to bring Quantrill down. He'd already defied the grave once." His gaze found her dark eyes in the dimness. "The whole time, I had it in a choke hold. I held it with all the strength I could find. I would only let it lash out at the raiders."

Without thinking, he reached out, gently placing his hand on her shoulder, the same shoulder she had injured saving his life in Dodge. "I would never hurt you, Coraline. I couldn't live with myself if I did."

"I never thought you would, Caleb," she said honestly.  "I was never afraid of you, no matter what you had become."  She took his hand in her own and gave it a soft squeeze.  Rather than dropping his hand, she twined her fingers with his.

"It cannot be easy for you being alone all of the time, can it?  I realize that you chose a solitary life to protect others, but you have friends now.  Friends that can help you.  Even if you have one other that knows your secret, you will have support to help you through the dark times -- be it chains or some other prison.  I think it would be even safer for you to have someone watching over you and ensuring you do not do harm to others."

Tilting her head at a nearby outcropping, she gave his hand a tug.  "Come and sit.  Rest.  Do you have a canteen in that saddlebag?"  She smiled again.  "Or a flask?"  Wicked of her, of course, but Coraline wasn't exactly the model of a prim and proper female.

Once they'd settled, hip to hip, she turned her gaze downward to the large, manly hand still clasped with hers.  Thoughts tumbled over one another, but as she looked his way, studying the hard lines and slashes of shadow upon his face, a singular idea rose to the surface.

"I know nothing of the ways of the natives and their brand of magic, but I do know that there are other forms, other people that have magic.  Perhaps one of them might have the answer to your curse."

"Would you mind if I began researching your... condition?  My spells... hexes, really... do not work that way.  They are usually only temporary solutions, but there are other sources out in the world.  Other libraries, other books, different ways to work through the same problem.  You know that you are not the only one afflicted.  Perhaps someone has overcome it."

A breeze swept over the plain, stirring their hair and clothes, and bringing with it the scent of wood smoke and gunpowder.  She fell silent, attention upon him despite the movement of lights in the distance.  The townfolk were trying to regain their lives, cleaning up the carnage, but Coraline was where she needed to be in that moment.

For a brief time, he was silent, gazing at her hand in his, enjoying their closeness. Reluctantly, he released her hand to search his saddlebag. Retrieving his steel flask, he opened it and handed it to her. Trying unsuccessfully to suppress a smile, he said, "It gets cold out on the prairie at night."

He took her hand again, lacing his fingers with hers. He gazed at her for a long moment, recalling how in Dodge City he had, for the first time, truly seen her and understood how courageous and lovely she was. Now, rather than shun him, as he had feared many would do, she was offering to help him, to try to find a way to undo the curse that had haunted him since the war.

Looking out at the dark grassland, he said, "I didn't ask the wolves to accompany you. When the change happens, they often come. It...stirs them up for some reason. Many times, when I've woken up after a full moon, I'll find some of them nearby, watching over me."

"I knew they were with you, when you came to find me. But they chose to walk with you, to protect you, all on their own. They sensed your kindness and they adopted you. Accepted you as part of the pack. They're good judges of character."

He shook his head, his eyes finding hers. "It means the world to me that you would try to find a way to free me from this." He paused, then added, "I trust you, Coraline. Completely."

Guided by his emotions, he loosed his hand from hers, easing his arm around her shoulders. Leaning in, he kissed her. Once, gently, on the lips.

How long had she wanted him to do exactly that?  She'd admired the handsome man from the moment they'd first been introduced -- this quiet U.S. Marshal that exuded such strength and confidence in the face of danger.  Now, with his arms about her, it was such a bittersweet moment.

Coraline pressed against him warmly, chin automatically tipping upward as he leaned down.  Her breath caught as their lips met and she closed her eyes, poignantly aware of the flutter that danced in her stomach.  It was a fleeting kiss, the hesitant embrace of an uncertain relationship, the first brush of true connection that made the heart race with excitement and anticipation.  It left her breathless, wanting, and a little heartbroken that it hadn't happened sooner.

When they broke apart, her long lashes fluttered in a whisper against her cheeks as she opened her eyes and lifted her gaze upward.  Her bare hand rose to his face, fingers tracing the story of the life he'd led, caressing lines born of weather, age, and the open prairie.  It was a face that had endured so much heartache and trauma, and she couldn't help but feel guilty for stripping away another raw layer to expose the tortured soul beneath.  Her thumb brushed across his lips, followed the strong line of his chin, and the stubble upon his jaw.

"That is going to make this infinitely more difficult," she quietly confessed.

"You are unlike any other man I have ever met, Caleb.  And I do not mean the curse you carry within, but simply you... the man you are, your true self.  The sadness in your eyes cuts into me like a knife to the heart, and I have long wanted to help you drive it away, to be the one that makes it flee and brings in joy to takes its place.  Perhaps it is only a silly girl's romantic nonsense, but the pain your carry inside, hidden behind those eyes, makes me wish for it."

"Before coming to find you, I had already come to a very difficult decision."  She sighed softly and let her eyes fall.  "I left New York to pursue my own gift, to learn more of my abilities, how they could benefit me, and find someone from whom I could learn.  There is only so much I can do on my own.  I have had someone enlighten me to the basics, but I need a proper, more powerful mentor to teach me."

"I found that here.  Doctor Whateley has agreed to take me as an apprentice and help me unravel the mysteries that I have not been able to understand on my own."  When she lifted her eyes, they glinted with unshed tears.  "When the posse moves on, I am remaining behind.  The others... I doubt any of them will miss my stubborn nature.  Randolph is a very good friend, but he has his own agenda and it does not include me.  Sky Dog and I will never come to terms, and I am so very weary of fighting him every step of the way.  He and Gabby will never see me as anything other than an obstinate girl that dabbles in witchcraft."

"In truth, you would be my only reason for staying with the group, but... you are also the reason I must go.  I cannot possibly find a cure to your condition while trailing along looking for the next group of innocents in danger.  I am very proud of the lives we have saved along the way and the evil we have destroyed, but our work here with Earp is done, and I feel it is time I move on to follow my other pursuits."

She had taken his breath away. Morgan had worried, briefly, that he would clumsy, oafish, so accustomed as he was to solitude. But he couldn’t keep his feelings from her any longer. Although he recognized that the time had been short, it seemed as though he had carried his growing fondness for her for far longer.  When she returned his affection, he found himself both elated and humbled.

When she spoke, explaining the decision she had made, grief washed over him. He found himself studying her, drinking in her presence, trying to capture the light in her eyes, the sound of her voice, her smile, everything about her in his memory, recognizing that the pictures he carried of her in his mind would have to last him for a long, long time.

He couldn’t ask her to stay. Not because she intended to seek out a way to free him from his perpetual darkness, but because to do so would be a disservice to who she was. She was uniquely talented, gifted in ways he couldn’t begin to fathom, and she needed to learn how to harness what she’d been given. Regardless of how deeply he would feel her absence, he understood that she had made the correct decision.  It was a journey she had to take.

Unbidden, he found himself recalling his mother. He was eight years old, walking with her up to the porch of his family’s home in Lawrence. Suddenly curious, he had asked her where the house had come from. ”Your father and I built it,” she explained. As she had looked at the weathered building, a smile had crossed her face. ”It wasn’t much at first. Only a couple of rooms. The first night we spent in it, there was a windstorm and the front door fell off.” He had laughed over the revelation. ”The roof leaked. Grass grew up through the floors. And we had to replace the window in the kitchen three times. The glass kept cracking.” She had smiled down at him, patting his shoulder. ”But now it’s as solid as can be. Keeps me, you, and your brothers safe and warm, doesn’t it?” He had nodded in agreement. ”That’s true of a lot of things, Caleb,” she had said, her tone serious. ”Those things that are important, that matter most, they take time. But they’re worth seeing through.”

When he spoke, his voice was quiet. ”I’ll miss you. More than I can say.”

Gazing at Coraline, more taken with her than he had ever been before, he recognized that while she was beginning a new path, the one that he had been on had finally come to a close.

He was silent for several long moments, looking out at the prairie, the long expanse of rolling terrain. ”I’m tired, Coraline. During the war, I hunted men who used the hostilities as an excuse to pillage and destroy. When it came to a halt, I pinned on a badge and kept hunting them. Sometimes, it feels like it never ended.”

“But now Quantrill’s gone. And most of his men that went to outlawry are in prison. Or in the ground. There are still bad men out there, no question. But I think it’s time that someone else put a halt to them. At least for a while.”

“A few years back, I tracked down a fugitive, one of Bill Anderson’s partisans. He had murdered several Cheyenne men and women up North. When I was on his trail, I came across a group of braves that were also seeking him out. We worked together. I became close friends with a warrior named Dull Knife. Saved his life before it was all said and done.”

“That was where I met the medicine man. Because of what I’d done, the chief, Four Bears, told me that I would always have a place with them. A home, anytime I needed one.”

He looked back at her, still struck by how beautiful she was. ”I could go there. Hunt. Tend the horses. Teach the young people how to track and ride. And I could heal. Put some things behind me at last. Find my brother, Josiah. Rebuild that relationship. And I wouldn't be alone."

“You need to go with Whateley. To learn what he has to teach you. It’s the right choice. If I tried to go with you, I’d only get in the way.”

“You are an amazing woman, Coraline Hawthorne. The most courageous, kind, intelligent woman I’ve ever known.  And you are very, very precious to me. I’ll be up North. I’ll wait.”

He met her eyes. ”I would wait for you forever.”

She tried to imagine him living among natives, riding with them, battling with them, teaching their young the skills he had adapted to his own life.  She tried to imagine what his life would be like among the people, living off the land as he'd done for so long, a part of their society and tribe.  If they knew of his ailment and accepted him still, then he truly did belong there.  But would he wish to leave when the time came?  Would she want to live as he did?  Would he balk at living in a proper city after the solitary life he'd led?

They were uncertain questions of the future, but she surprisingly found that the answers really did not matter.  So long as she found him again, cure or not, then she would be happy with her life.  So long as they could be together, no matter where their path took them, then she would be content.  Bettering herself and growing in skill would allow her to help her mother, to make and send her mother the money she needed to survive.  So long as she saw through that promise first, she would have no trouble keeping her promises to Caleb.  With Abaddon to help her along, a true teacher that could give her practical experience, she didn't think it would take long.

I've often seen these people, these squares at the table, short stack and long odds against them.  All their outs gone. One last card in the deck that can help them. I used to wonder how they could let themselves get into such bad shape, and how the hell they thought they could turn it around ...and then it happened to me.  One moment it's 'all in' and the next it's all gone.  And then what's left for me?  Marriage?  Desperate to snag a wealthy man so I don't live the rest of my life in poverty?

Her worst fear had long echoed in her head -- living as one of the lowest of society, falling to unthinkable behaviors simply to survive, selling her body and soul just to eek out one more miserable day in her miserable life.  Those fears had driven her from home, desperate to find a way out that didn't involve binding herself to a man twice her age.  Like a bird from the wild suddenly trapped and caged, her once passionate song would soon die to mournful tones as her independence was taken by a loveless marriage.  She might beat at the cage with clipped wings, but she would never be able to free herself, not while she needed a husband for protection.

Long before she'd decided on a path that took her west, she and her mother had discussed their options at length.  When first broached with a marriage of convenience, Coraline had immediately balked at the idea.  She wasn't the type to flutter her lashes at a wealthy man in hopes of snagging him for his wealthy estate.  It would be as degrading to her as whoring out her body for money!  Her nature was too wild and her spirit too proud.  Having once been a widely traveled explorer and independent woman herself, Coraline's mother had understood completely.

Those fears that hounded her suddenly dissipated when she thought of making a life with Caleb.  There would be no clipped wings or gilded cages with him.  He had lived away from society and needed only the basics to survive.  Could she learn to live as he did?  Could she shun the greed for wealth and riches that festered within her heart like a disease?  She wasn't certain, but she knew she wanted to try.  For him.  To have him be a part of her life and she his.

His words made smile through her tears.  "Caleb, you shall not have to wait forever.  I promise that I will find you again once I uncover the answers we both need.  Whether you are still ranging with the posse or have settled up North, I will find you again."

"Just don't get yourself killed before I return to your side.  Don't throw your life away because you think it worthless when compared to another's.  It is not true, no matter what burdens you carry or how dangerous you might be during the full moon.  Take precautions, hold fast to those that would help you through those times, and stay alive.  Stay alive for me.  Will you promise to try?"

Why is doing the right thing so very hard?  Icy fingers gripped her heart and squeezed, causing the uncomfortable tightness in her chest that she'd come to associate with grief and loss.  She'd first felt that emptiness when her father had died.  Now it came again, already anticipating the loss of Caleb.  He might not be dead, but living her life without him, without those glimpses of him that she'd cherished every day since their meeting, without the feel of his hand upon hers, and without the strength of his arms surrounding her, that hollow emptiness would plague her as cruelly as any death.

Her words pierced him, because he knew they were true.

How often had he thrown himself into a fight, walked into the midst of gunplay, heedless of his own safety, entirely focused on ending a threat, on bringing a lawbreaker to justice?

Deep down, he had always known why, especially once he had learned that William Quantrill still walked the earth. Because of the curse, he had pushed everyone away, dedicated his life to hunting those that had inflicted such terror and loss on Lawrence. On his own family. He wanted to ensure that innocents were kept safe, that others did not have to face the grief that he and Josiah had. Given his affliction, and his talents, he had believed he was following the right path.

But the path led nowhere. Once Quantrill and his kind were stopped, what was left? To keep hunting renegades until death finally found him? To wander the prairie as a cursed outcast? He'd recognized the emptiness that awaited and, as a result, been willing to yield himself to something greater, accepting his own destruction as the inevitable cost of keeping others safe.

Only now, the path led somewhere different. To someone who he cared for, and who cared for him.

He had fought the battles he needed to fight.

He gently brushed the tears from her face and took her in his arms. "I promise," he said softly, "I won't take unnecessary risks. And I'll reach out for the help I need. I'll stay safe. I promise you."

As a child, he had dreamed of raising horses. Was that what the future held? To build a livery and care for animals in a place of her choosing? If not, he could easily find a job with the law, as town marshal, or even on the police force of a large city. He wasn't certain. But he knew he would find a way to help provide them with the life they needed. The life she deserved.

He didn't want to let her go. Suddenly, this outcropping on the vast prairie had become the most important place in the world to him.

"When do you have to go with Whateley?" he asked. A selfish question, he knew, but he wanted all the time with her that he could have.

She surrendered to his arms, leaning into the embrace and resting her cheek upon his shoulder.  Her arms encircled his waist, unwilling to let go even if he had released her.  Despite the night's violence and fighting and the town that was in shambles a short distance away, Coraline had never felt such security.  She closed her eyes and committed the scene to her mind -- the warmth of his body, the feel of his arms holding her close, the warm breeze that danced around them upon the quiet prairie, the blanket of infinite starlight overhead, the distant glow of the town.  Those memories would remain with her always.

His question faded away into night and Coraline suddenly found it difficult to speak of the future.  By saying it aloud, it made it far too real.  As emotion threatened to choke the words in her throat, she forced herself take a deep, calming breath.

"Tomorrow?  The next day?  We have not yet discussed it, but it will be soon.  There are still plenty alive here to help rebuild and lay the dead to rest.  I think that he does not intend to linger for long."

"For people like us, those with special gifts, it is all too easy for strangers to appreciate us in times of need.  With no immediate dangers present, people tend to forget how much you have done to aid them and only see how much of a burden you are or how strange you seem.  He revealed himself to them to help save their lives, but most folk fear what they do not understand, and the whispered accusations of witchcraft and devil worship will soon begin." She sighed at the inevitability of it all.  "I have seen it happen before."

Drawing back without breaking free of his embrace, she tipped her face toward his so that she could meet his eyes.  "With all of the chaos still stirring the town, I doubt that we will be able to seek out rest any time soon.  These people still need our help.  But when the hour comes to find a quiet place to sleep, would you stay the night with me?"

It might have been a bold request, but Cora was a bold woman.  She was no innocent teenage maiden.  She was a grown woman in her late twenties and, by most accounts, should have already been married with several children clinging to her skirts.  He could interpret the request however he liked, imagine a handful of different scenarios from simple comfort to fiery passion.  Essentially, it meant a few more stolen moments to strengthen the emotional attachment they'd already developed.

As he held her, he tried to remind himself that these stolen moments, this yearning for time, was temporary. With patience, there would come a time when her presence became a constant, something he could look forward to each day. He knew that when they parted, her absence would haunt him. It would be a weight on his soul that he would feel, acutely, each and every day. Even as he dreaded it, he silently vowed to welcome it as well. The pain, and the memory of it, would keep him thankful when they finally found each other again.

He knew she was right about the fear of her and Whateley that would be forthcoming. He'd seen such mischaracterization of her even among their own ranks. Yet, without her powers, her intervention, he felt certain he wouldn't even be alive. He hated it: the injustice of how people with her gifts were treated and the perilously short memory so many had regarding those that had given them help.

When she had gazed up at him with her dark eyes and asked her question, his answer had been immediate. "Yes. Yes, I could," he told her, as he brushed a curl of her hair from her forehead. He couldn't know what the evening would hold, but for him, it didn't matter. It was time in her presence. That was more than enough.

He forced himself to look toward Oakley. How strange. Quantrill. The violence. The unleashing of his dark self. And now to be here, with Coraline, in a place he never wanted to leave and never wanted to forget.

How he wished he had confessed his feelings for her sooner.

"Should we go back?" he asked, the discomfort of his own words evident in his voice. "The sooner we help settle things down, the sooner we can find a place to rest."

"I suppose," she said with a sigh.  Coraline released him reluctantly and pulled free, letting her hand linger as long as possible.  Duty was calling, but she would rather ignore it for a few more stolen moments with Caleb.

Picking up the flask she'd placed in her lap, she uncapped it and tipped it up for a quick swig.  The whiskey burned down her throat, but the punch was the wake up she needed.  Clearing her throat, she offered it to him with a smile.  "Strong stuff, but good."

Pushing off the rock, she stood and shook out her skirts and dusted off her backside.  Turning toward him, she offered her hand.  He didn't need the assistance, but it was another excuse to touch him, to hold his hand.  "The night grows long and I'm sure there is much to do to help the townfolk.  Fires, bodies, and frightened people.  We have our hands full."

Morgan had never been one to yield to impulse. His life, as a soldier, as a lawman, as one under the yoke of a curse, had never afforded him the luxury of being freely steered by emotion.

He could remember the last time he had let the moment seize him. He was sixteen. He had found work at the depot in Lawrence, unloading cargo from the trains that rolled into town each week. It was late afternoon, his body sore from a long day of labor, his clothes dark from coal smoke. He’d walked home, knowing that more chores awaited him there, hearing Josiah and his mother arguing as he drew near the front door. Sauntering to the back of the house, he had fed and watered the horses, bringing hay last to Stormcloud, the aging appaloosa stallion that his family had raised from a foal. The horse was restless, snorting and stomping about the stable like the confinement of the small building was intolerable.

Without thinking it through, he had saddled Stormcloud and led him out of the stable. As soon as he had mounted the horse, he could tell that the appaloosa and he were of the same mind. With only a little urging, Stormcloud had taken off at a gallop, jumping the fence at the far end of the yard and racing out onto the prairie. The sudden freedom of it, the wind in his face, and the speed with which he rode across the open plain had overtaken Morgan’s spirit and he had laughed freely, unburdened for a precious moment of all his cares.

Even as he had spoken of returning to Oakley, he had regretted it. The townspeople, he knew, needed their help, needed their guidance to bring sense to the chaos that had been visited on them. It was his duty, a burden he had willingly accepted many years before.

Only now, he had found someone who meant the world to him.

When Coraline offered her hand, he took it and stood. And then, without thought, yielding to his heart, he had tugged her to him, and he had kissed her, not with the gentle hesitancy he had felt the first time, but with certainty, with tenderness, with the deep caring she had awakened in him.

When they parted, he looked to Oakley and said quietly, ”We’ll manage. We always do.”