Rebecca sniffed, hearing voices, then looked up.  Her eyes were red, her face blotchy from crying, her hair a mess.  And she looked for a long moment at the man in front of her, as if wondering who he was...  Her pale eyes stared...

He wore a uniform fancier that Papa's, but Papa said he was important.  How could he be important?  All that gold braid?  He smiled at her, patting her head...

She blinked, trying not to cry anymore.  They were all dead, weren't they?

"C... Captain... Captain Jericho?  Oh God, is it you?  Ye're not dead too?  I'm not dreamin'?"  She let go of Clementine with her good hand, reaching out as if to find out if he were truly there...

---> from the streets

Ramsey couldn't help bit smile a little: that was his wife's voice he heard singing; she must be trying to comfort the injured girl.  Wife or no, he thought, she'd make a good nurse.

"Its Marshall Jericho now, Miss.  He's here to ask you some questions.  You do the best you can, but don't tucker yourself out; remember you need your rest, and the Marshall can stop by whenever he needs to."

He gave a sheepish grin to his wife.

"I, uhhh..., seem to have invited Marshall Jericho to breakfast, if that is alright with you.  It seemed the decent thing to do at the time, but I promise I will make it up to you and do all the dishes for you."

Well now... she seems to remember me... or at least the "me" as I was when I last saw her.

That's a good sign, it probably means her mind ain't broken and her memory's relatively intact... best Thank the Lord for any and all such small miracles, especially given what this poor young girl has been put through.

With a guarded glance from Clementine to Ramsey, as if unsure if it was his place to approach their "patient", Cyrus felt compelled to offer what reassurance he could to the distraught young lady laying in painful repose.

With tentative but unwaivering steps, Cyrus approached Becky's bedside and carefully reached out his hand to gently take Becky's offered hand in his as he gave her a warm smile and said in a soft, caring tone, "Please rest assured Miss O'Dell that your eyes & ears do not deceive you.  You are not dreaming, it is indeed me in the flesh... alive and well, just as you are.

Though as Dr. McQueen has pointed out, it is now Deputy Marshal Cyrus Jericho.  I traded in my gold oak leafs for the silver badge about a month ago... shortly after my Troop and I found you and brought you to the healing care of the good Dr. McQueen and his wife."

Cyrus spared a momentary glance over at the doctor and his wife, nodded his head to both of them in appreciation for their "good work" before returning his gaze back to Becky and continuing in the same soft, caring tone, "I am very pleased to hear that you remember me even after all the intervening years, I suppose I must have made a good impression.  Your father, Patrick, was a good sergeant, a good soldier, a good friend and above all a good man.  Both he and your good mother will be mourned and missed.

You have my deepest sympathies for your painful loss Miss O'Dell.  While I know my own grief cannot possibly match yours, please know that you are not alone in grieving their passing.

But I promise you Miss O'Dell that I intend to do everything in my power to bring the guilty to justice and I hope, with your help, that I shall be able to make good on that promise."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:25, Fri 26 July 2013.

She squeezed his hand hard, as if to assure herself he truly was real.  Her eyes were wide and now that she was awake, he could see that she had grown up to be as pretty as she had been as a little girl.

Her mind was a whirl in chaos.  She remembered being a girl, playing at the fort with Bobbie, helping the cooks, spending all her time with the Cavalry's horses.  She remembered her Father in uniform, saluting Ca... Mr. Jericho.  He was a Marshal?  A lawman?

She bit her lip as more memories flooded in... Riding Midnight, enjoying the breeze that seemed cool on such a hot day... Seeing Antelope in the distance... calls of Indians...  Circling wagons... Fear...

She blinked, realizing she hadn't said anything, trying not to start crying again.  She took a very deep breath.  "A... A month?  It has been a month?"  If it were possible, she became more pale, the few freckles sticking out more.  "So..."  She took another breath, her eyes searching Jericho's.  "No one... nothing else... survived?"

A flush of heat suffused Clementine’s cheeks but she strove to hide her embarrassment, quickly swiping away her tears as she welcomed Cyrus and motioned him near. “Marshal Jericho, please excuse me. Of course I am quite all right, and you are always welcome. Please, Cyrus, won’t you come in?” she smiled up at him.

Seeing the broken-hearted girl brighten at the sight of Cyrus, Clementine realized at once the medicine that Rebecca needed most. Gently letting go of the anguished child, Clementine stood and moved away from the cot; and then, with a searching look to Ramsey, Clementine quietly retreated to the rear of the house, leaving the hospital room to the doctor, the marshal, and the delicate inquiry that was to be conducted.

Cyrus glanced over at Clementine and nodded his head as he said in a polite tone, "Nothin' needs excusin' Mrs. McQueen, at times like this both tears of sorrow and tears of joy are equally appropriate.  I'm just relieved to hear that you're feelin' fine.

As for your gracious welcome, I am much obliged to you for your warm and kindly hospitality.  I shall try not to make too much of an imposition of myself upon your home."


Cyrus focused his attention back on Becky and he could help but admire the courage of the young woman, he knew she was hurting (more inside than out, he suspected) but damned if she wasn't trying her hardest to hold back her tears and put on a brave face.

Cyrus gave Becky's hand a light reassuring squeeze as he replied in a soft, understanding tone, "Yes Miss O'Dell... it has been just about a month, give or take a couple of days.  You were mighty ill when we found ya and I'll admit you gave us a bit of a scare for awhile as you slipped in and out of a right nasty fever.  But thanks to the Good Lord and the impressive healin' skills of Dr. McQueen and the tender mercies of his kindly wife Mrs. McQueen, you pulled through.

Now as to your other question... well... that isn't nearly so easy to answer.  I don't wish to upset you Miss O'Dell but you have a right to know what truth there is to be knowin'.

I am really sorry to have to tell ya Miss O'Dell that both of your parents have passed on.  I assure you that I made certain to see that they were given good Christian burials... with a Catholic priest sayin' the rites an' all.  Mexican mind you, not Irish, but the same style funeral and I'll be darned if he didn't know a word or two of Latin to be interjected here and there at what I suppose were the opportune times... don't speak it myself, so I'm takin' the Padre's word that that's the tongue he was speakin'.  Very solemn affair but all right & proper."

Cyrus paused and seemed a bit conflicted about how best to proceed before deciding that honest straight talk beat hollow honeyed words any day of the week, and twice on Sunday, "Now as to your older brother, Robert... well... I can't rightly say for certain.

Now please don't get your hopes up too quickly because the truth is there were remains that couldn't be easily identified and it had been a long time since I'd last seen the boy.  I probably wouldn't have recognized you Miss O'Dell, seein' as you're all grown up now goin' from a cute tomboy of a girl to a proper, pretty young lady... except that I recognized your silver birthday locket worn around your neck with the pictures of your dear parents inside of it.

Still... there's a possibility that Robert was not among the dead and thus hasn't been accounted for, one way or another.  If he's still alive, and I stress If because the last thing I want to do is give false hope only to have to dash it later with hard uncovered truth... but if he's still alive, I will do my darndest to find him and bring him back to you safe & sound.

Along those lines... do you think you're up to answering a few questions about what you can remember?"

Rebecca couldn't help it... the tears came.  She knew.  But to hear it, it was somehow much worse.  And then to hear that Ca... Mr. Jericho had thought to give her parents a proper Catholic burial.  Her mother would have been so happy.

She let go his hand to wipe her eyes and brush her hair from her face.  She was, when she was able to think about it, so very happy that he found her.  He had always been so very nice to her.  Her Papa liked him.

She finally nodded.  "I can, I'm thinkin'.  Anything.  But..."  She swallowed.  "Did ye find a big black stallion killed?  Big horse, had a silver bridle on him?"

Cyrus had always had a bit of a soft spot for a lady in distress and he could feel downright uncomfortable (or "malleable like warm putty" as one ex-lover had put it) at the sight & sound of a woman's tears (though woe to the lady who was found out as a faker putting on a false show of "waterworks", Cyrus detested being manipulated).

Cyrus casually looked away to give Becky privacy to wipe away her tears (and to spare Cyrus the sight of a young lady in pain), though he did rummage in one of the pockets of his duster to produce a clean cotton handkerchief which he cautiously offered to Becky to wipe her eyes with if she wanted to.

In response to Becky's question about the horse, Cyrus's mood lightened slightly and a warm smile formed as he replied in a pleased tone (clearly happy to have some good news to finally report), "You mean "Kitty"?  Or at least that was the name etched into the silver bridle when we recovered your large black stallion... alive and surprisingly unhurt.

I suspect he was able to gallop away and out of reach of the ambushers since I doubt thieving scoundrels like that would have willingly left behind a beautiful horse like that or let him keep the silver bridle.  Though I must admit that "Kitty" seems a somewhat peculiar name for a stallion.

But in any case, I am happy to report that "Kitty" is doing well and is in good health.  I now have him stabled along with my own blue roan quarter horse stallion, "Black Jack" over at the U.S. Marhsal's office.  I feed and see to them both on a daily basis."

Cyrus paused because he was reluctant to proceed with "business" after finally being the bearer of good news but the longer he waited, the less sure her memory might become.  With a small sigh, Cyrus added in a guarded tone, "Now Miss O'Dell... do you remember just how many people were traveling in your caravan?"

Ramsey sat back and allowed the Marshall to ask his questions, but kept a sharp eye on his patient, lest she start to swoon or feel faint.  But he was also wishing more and more that he'd gotten to his bottle before all of this happened this morning.  Now he'd have to wait until sometime in the evening to give it another go...unless he went to another one he had stashed elsewhere, or nicked off to a saloon without anyone noticing - fat chance, everyone in town knew him, and he had no idea who would inform on him and who would keep their mouth shut.

He was better off not taking any chances, and flying right - he knew that, yet...it was hard.  Very hard.  he found himself wiping his mouth with the back of his hand more often than he would like.

Rebecca looked at Cyrus for a long moment, then she burst into giggles.  As a girl, she laughed a lot.  With the young woman, while unkempt and ill, the giggle and following laughter lit her eyes and face with joy and brought out her true beauty, if a bit unexpectedly.  Cyrus had seen the pretty little girl, but the laughter showed the potential of the young woman.

"Oh Mr. Jericho, I am so very sorry!  Ye wouldn't be rememberin,' but 'Kitty' was Papa's nickname for me, as he was thinkin' of me as a kitten, small and always in trouble!  He gave me that bridle when I was 14.  The horse is Midnight, and my very best friend in the world!  I am so happy that ye found him!"

She had accepted his handkerchief, wiping the few tears the laughter brought.  She shook her head, then composed herself to answer his question.  Clearly he had cheered her.

She took a deep breath.  "We had 8 wagons, four of them freighters.  There were four families... ours, the Taylor's, the Sears' and the Hutchinson's.  I'm thinkin' there were maybe ten of the freighters?  We didn't have escort past th' border, and a few of the men were Indian fighters, so we were not worryin'.  P... Papa thought it a grand adventure, he did."  She took a shuddering breath, dabbing at her eyes.

---->The Streets of Escondido

There's soft knock at the kitchen door of the McQueen residence.

In reply to Temperance Peters (msg # 26):


After several false starts and certain sadness that Clementine had been determined to put behind her, the McQueens arrived in Escondido, Texas where Ramsey hung his shingle for what he swore would be the last and best of times. Clementine had labored by his side to put to right the neglected two-story clapboard home which would be Ramsey’s office and surgery on the first level, with a spacious area behind that Clementine had portioned into a cookery with a dining and seating area before the fireplace.

Ramshackle, weather-beaten, and in need of scraping and painting inside and out,  Clementine had suffered great pain to set the place to rights, managing to make what little she had shine. As yet sparsely furnished, still the house had what was required, although the cookery and its contents continued to confound Clementine, who before she had married Ramsey had never boiled water. Although what she knew of cooking was more than she knew the month before that her husband had invited Cyrus Jericho to stay for breakfast was enough to make her quake. She had yet to serve up a batch of biscuits that weren’t doughy in the center or hard as rocks.

So engrossed was Clementine with the sifting of flour that it was the second knock-knock-knocking that had alerted her to the fact that someone was tapping on the rear door. Wiping her hands on her apron did nothing for the smears of flour on her face, yet be that as it was, Clementine turned and through the gap in the curtains she saw Temperance Peters. Immediately, Clementine crossed the floor and threw open the door. "If ever there was a sight for my sorry eyes," Clementine exclaimed, grinning as she pushed back a wayward tendril of hair with the back of her hand. "Temperance Peters, thank heaven you are here!"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:36, Sun 28 July 2013.

"Clementine what happened? You look a fright." Temperance stepped in the door motioning for the twins to follow.

"There's flour dusted all over your face. I've never seen you look this way before. Did you find a mouse in the flour sack or something?" 

In reply to Rebecca O'Dell (msg # 25):

Cyrus smiled in genuine mirth as he said in a friendly tone, "There's no need to be sorry Miss O'Dell, you have a charming laugh and a pretty smile... a good giggle, even at my humble expense, beats tears every time.  I'm just pleased that I was able to see you light up with joy, even if only for a moment.

But now that you mention it, I think I might recall Paddy... I mean Patrick or rather Sgt. O'Dell referring to you once or twice in conversation by that nickname, "Kitty".  I thought there was something vaguely familiar about the name when I first read it upon the bridle.

Well in any case, "Midnight" is doing just fine and will be more than ready for you when you have your strength back and Dr. McQueen says you're ready to ride again."

Cyrus took out a small pad of paper and began writing down Becky's remarks as he wanted to be able to review his notes at a later time.  Cyrus nodded his head and then said in a guarded tone, "So that's 4 families and 10 freight handlers.  If I remember correctly, your family, the O'Dells, were you, your older brother Robert, your mother, and your father... were there any additions to the family after the War?

Can you tell me a bit more about the other 3 families, the Taylors, the Sears, and the Hutchinsons?  Like how many family members in each, perhaps their ages, backgrounds, and genders?  I imagine all 10 freight handlers were male, what were their ages and races?

You see Miss O'Dell, in order for me to gauge whether there might be any survivors who escaped the attack, I have to have a good idea of just how many people were present as part of the caravan and what the group's composition was like."

In reply to Temperance Peters (msg # 28):

"Bite your tongue, Temperance, that's the last trouble I need," Clementine retorted as a wry smile crooked her full lips. "Rebecca O'Dell came awake this morning and when Ramsey went to fetch Marshal Jericho the clever thought that popped into my husband's head was to invite the man to stay for breakfst!" Clementine exclaimed exasperatedly.

"The last time I made biscuits Ramsey used one of them to balance his bookshelf! I can't imagine what he was thinking, and now I am afraid that they are going to come walking into my kitchen with their bellies rumbling and I'll not have a proper breakfast to set upon the table."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:43, Mon 29 July 2013.

Rebecca listened to all the questions, trying to answer them all, her head starting to spin.  "No, there was only the four of us.  The teamsters were all men, I'm thinkin,' some might have been young, I didn't look too good.  One was negro.  The Taylor's had a girl my age and I think Mrs. Taylor might have been in the family way and... and..."

She stared at Cyrus as tears began to flow again.  "And they're all dead... I can't remember... I'm so sorry... I should have noticed more... I just... just..."

She buried her face in her free hand, overcome.

In reply to Clementine McQueen (msg # 30):

"The girl is awake! Lord be praised. We've been including her in our prayers morning and night."

Taking stock of the flour covered table Temperance gave her head a bemused shake. "Don't worry about the gentlemen having their breakfast. You've got help in here now. But first, girls be quick and make your presentations. There's work to be done here."

Prudence uncharacteristically steps forward before her sister has a chance. With a shy smile she offers Clementine the continence of her basket.

"Ma and I picked you these Bluebonnets this morning. See, we wrapped them in a cool cloth to keep um fresh. They smell so good and look so pretty they’re sure brighten up a place."

If Prim had anything else to say it's lost as Emily shoves herself between the lady of the house and her usually shy sibling.

"I got a jar of strawberry preserves. They're my favorite so I figured the hurt girl will like um too. This is the next to last jar but that's alright the berry patch is looking mighty good this year and..."

“That will be enough for now Em. You two put your things on that little table by the door please. Then wait quietly.”

"Perhaps", interjected Ramsey at the girl's renewed outburst of tears, "we can continue this discussion another day?  We don't want to wear her out, and she'll need her strength for her recovery.  I promise she will be here tomorrow morning to answer any more questions - and if she should recall more of the unfortunate incident between then and now I'll be sure to have my wife or myself write it down for you, Marshall."

He tried to give a reassuring smile to the young lady.

"Young Miss, I know its a bother, but if you wouldn't mind resting for a bit now.  We will only be in the next room if you need anything, and my wife or I will be back to check on you soon.  Is that ok?"

Rebecca looked up, her face red, and reached for... anyone... with the tear-soaked handkerchief.  "No, please don't leave me.  I am sorry.  I'm not knowin' m' own mind!  I don't want to be alone!"  She looked at Cyrus, pleading.

Cyrus looked from Rebecca to Ramsey and back as he said in a reassuring tone, "Well I think Dr. McQueen is right, that's really enough questions for one day.  You need to continue building your strength Miss O'Dell and I refuse to wear you out the first day you awaken.  It won't do anyone any good if you get sick from too much emotional strain.

Now you just rest and wipe those tears and don't worry about what you can't remember."

Cyrus glanced over at Ramsey as he added in an uncertain tone, "All that said Doc, what do you think about perhaps inviting Miss O'Dell to join us for breakfast?  I know you want her to get some bed rest but if she's all distraught over bein' left to herself, she probably won't get any rest anyhow.

I sure don't want to leave the young lady in this emotionally fragile state of mind.

Do you think your wife would object to adding another place at the breakfast table?  Maybe after a good meal, Miss O'Dell will feel more sleepy... feel more like takin' an early morning siesta sort o' speak?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:42, Tue 30 July 2013.

In reply to Temperance Peters (msg # 32):

“Well now, my lovelies,” Clementine stooped to meet the children's gazes eye to eye, fussing over the twins with genuine delight as had been her way from their first meeting. “I can’t imagine anything more perfect first thing in the morning than sweet-smelling Bluebonnets and strawberry preserves, unless it is kisses on my cheek from the pair of you,” Clementine opened her arms welcoming them into her embrace.

Above their heads Clementine’s look caught Temperance eye, and she smiled her heartfelt appreciation to the determined young widow who had so quickly become friend and confidant.

“Your sweetness will lift our patient’s spirits, I’m sure,” Clementine finished as she freed the girls from her hug. “The dining table has been laid with room to spare,” Clementine indicated the long table before the fireplace which was set with the few nice things that had survived the journey West. “Why don’t you place these gifts there as your mother has asked?”
This message was last edited by the player at 05:24, Wed 31 July 2013.

"I couldn't vouchsafe a reply from my wife about adding another at the table, but...as long as she can keep her food down it is ok by me.  The syrup I've given her gives some to upset stomach; but she needs to eat to keep her strength up, and a good breakfast is a dandy start.  What do you say, Young Miss: does solid food sound ok in your book?"

She might need a hand in cutting up her food as well, but it would be a good sign if she was at least hungry and able to handle solid food.  It was food that kept fever away.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:30, Tue 30 July 2013.

She nodded.  "I'm thinkin' I might fancy some... or at least be tryin'," she replied softly, her mother's accent coming out.  "B-but I am... I am hardly dressed.  And my hair is so very awful.  And I'll have trouble standin.'  Will ye not be embarrassed t' be havin' me?"

Her question was directed at the good Doctor, but her eyes were on Marshal Jericho, who's opinion seemed to matter more.

"I'm sure we can wrap one of my wife's shawls on you and no one would mind; as far a your hair goes, it won't be eatin' for you, so I shouldn't worry about it if I were you".

His eyes crinkled in amusement; she had to feel better if she was worried about her appearance.

"And we can help you stand and move about, if you need it.  And if you can't feed yourself, why we can help with that too.  I'm sure the Marshal wouldn't mind helping with that, would you?"

He gave the Marshal a sly wink, knowing the young lady seemed to have an eye on the younger man.

Surprisingly, she blushed furiously.  "I wouldn't impose... I... I can be handlin' m'self.  A shawl would be nice."

For the first time, was the hint of a shy girl.