The carriage bumped and rattled roughly over the terrain, wheels scraping and bouncing against rocks and stones, jostling the passengers inside. The thunder of rifles barked sharply inside the coach, accompanied by wild whoops and answering shots from the raiding party of pursuing Cheyenne.

Kneeling between the bench seating, her head resting on the stiff padding, the young woman squeezed her eyes closed. One arm was curled around her body, the other pressed hard against her ear, trying to block out the noise and the horror. The weight and heat of a male passenger pressed over her back and shoulders as he bent, blocking her body with his. His shout was more of a whisper against the din.

"You jest sit tight, ma'am! Them coach horses won't stop runnin' fer nothin', and them Injuns'll give up soon enough!"

One of the other men inside gave a gurgled cry, slumping over dead. The lady flinched, crying out as his hand brushed across her cheek, smearing blood against porcelain skin. It was pulled away instantly, but the feel of it still haunted her.

"Ma'am?" it was called to her, but it sounded from far away as the world spun and dimmed. "Ma'am?"

"I'm alright..." her words were weak, shaken as she closed her eyes tight. "I'm alright. Is it suddenly quiet?"

"Yes ma'am." The man protecting her moved back, helping her back onto the seat. "The Indians pulled back, likely decided we were too much trouble."

"I see." She straightened her hair, an arm still curled protectively around her ribs. The other men looked concerned at her, but only one spoke, the same man as before.

"Name's Riddick, ma'am, Logan Riddick. You hurt?"

"No...I'm alright, just shaken."

"Where you headed, ma'am, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Bear River, I believe? It's the last stop for the coach."

"That's in Wyomin' Territory, ma'am!" A blond headed cowhand called Pony interjected. "That's a long way fer a woman like you to travel alone-!"

"Shut up, Pony." Riddick threw him an annoyed look.

"I wasn't sayin' nothin' against her!" he protested, but the young lady interrupted gently.

"It is a long way, but I must get there."

"It's a far way to go on your own." Riddick stretched out a steadying hand as she suddenly swayed, looking pale. "You got family to help out, ma'am? What's your name?"

"I'm going to meet my husband. My name is Pemberly...Pemberly Adams."

She thought he might have looked disappointed. His eyes dropped to her hand, still resting against her belly, and Pemberly suddenly felt that he knew. Straightening up, her hands went self-consciously to her hair. Logan Riddick said nothing about it, however, much to her relief.

"Mrs. Adams, it happens I'm heading toward Bear River," he held out his hand. "I'd be obliged to escort you safely."

"I'll take that kindly, thank you." She shook his hand, smiling, but behind her eyes lay wariness, unease. It was obvious she was hiding something, but no man on the stage would pry, or assume. To sully a woman's reputation and virtue could lead a man to an unwelcome necktie affair, and it wasn't worth the risk. Riddick only smiled, sitting back.

"We'll be to our next stop shortly, Mrs. Adams. Try to catch some shut eye."