"This Saturday?"

They were seated at the table having breakfast, and Elizabeth had just finishing telling him about the town dance at Felix Wheaton's ranch.

"That's what he said," her eyes sparkled a little at the thought. "Dancing, music, won't that be fun? When was the last time you and I danced?"

"Sweetheart," his tone cut through her dreaming and she looked over at him. "This Saturday I'll be transferring Duke Fisher to the United States Marshal in San Bernardino, remember? I told you about it last week."

Her eyes went flat and Morgan, realizing their truce still on rocky ground, knew this might reopen hostilities.

"I had forgotten about that," she paused, "is there any way Luke can do it for you?"

Luke Skye was Morgan's deputy, a capable and smart young man, fairly new to La Ciudad, but promising. Hel was already shaking his head, taking a swallow of his coffee.

"Fisher would eat Luke alive. No, I have to take him. Besides, they'll need my report and a briefing when we change over custody."

Well," she was searching for alternatives. "Can you leave today, and make it back before the dance? Even if you make it back a little late?"

"Beth," his tone was patient. "Even if I left today, Sam Beck won't reach San Bernardino until Saturday morning. It's just not possible sweetheart."

He saw the frustration build in her eyes then vanish as she got up and turned away. She stood with her back to him for a long moment, and Morgan knew she was struggling to accept his reasoning.

"All right," her voice was soft, resigned. "I know you'd come if you could. There will be other dances,"

"Beth, please try-"

She turned around, the look on her face abruptly cutting off what he'd been about to say. There was such emptiness there, such a fierce loneliness that for a moment he couldn't even breathe.

"I do Asahel," she told him quietly. "I try harder than you'll ever know."

He rose to his feet, slowly approaching her and Elizabeth let him put his arms around her.

"This is my life Beth, you knew that before we married. I tried to tell you, to explain what it would be like, and I make time for us whenever I can,"

"I know that. I don't blame you, how could I? It's who you are, and I married you with my eyes open." She pushed gently away from him. "You were wearing a badge before you ever wore a ring. I accept that."

"Do you, Beth? Or do you merely tolerate it."

He saw the blue of her eyes swim with tears that she refused to cry. In one swift move Elizabeth turned and pressed a kiss against his lips then moved away, heading toward the bedroom. Without turning she spoke.

"I'm feeling unwell this morning. Please don't wake me when you leave."

Hel stood staring at the solid wood door separating him from his wife, and inwardly he let loose a flood of swearing that would have shamed a mule skinner. What had happened to them? What was he doing? Beth's happiness meant everything to him, yet his sense of duty and rigid principled standards made him practically inflexible. Morgan had no illusions, not about life, nor about himself.

He recognized he was flawed, that he placed honor and responsibility above anything else, and he'd always been that way. It wasn't until he met Elizabeth Grayson that he realized there could be more to life. Still, habits of a man of thirty-five did not vanish overnight, or over the course of years. He'd lived and survived by being the way he was, and change came slowly. But change I must, he told himself, change, or lose Beth forever.

His steps were slow as he moved along the boardwalk, the sun making even the short crossing of the street nearly unbearable. Despite the fact it was May, the scorching heat was reminiscent of July and August, and Hel knew this year would be the worst this county had seen in many years. The heat was only a brief distraction, however, as his mind returned to the look in Beth's eyes, the utter loss of faith in him, the resignation. It rankled, filling him with a helplessness he did not like.

"Mornin' boss," Luke greeted him as Hel stepped into the office. "Someone back there is mighty unhappy at present."

He indicated the cells lodged behind the closed inner door. Morgan never batted an eye.

"What's Fisher's complaint now?"

"He wants a smoke, an' I won't give him one. I don't trust him with the clothes he's got on, I ain't given him access to fire."

Morgan cracked a wry grin at his deputy.

"You'll live a long life thinkin' that way Luke. Fisher could blow up this whole jail with nothing more than a cigar and a bar of soap."

"Really?" Luke was all ears. "How? Is that even possible?"

"I have no idea," Hel shrugged. "But if there's a way, he'd find it."

He paused for a moment, looking at the floor.

"Luke, you going to this dance out at Wheaton's place on Saturday?"

His deputy looked up, surprised.

"I ain't heard of it," he said slowly.

Hel felt something shift inside him, something ugly rearing its head. He told himself he was a reasonable man, but even with his logical thinking Morgan could not deny he was a fiercely jealous husband. Without moving he seemed to fill the room, growing larger by his absolute stillness.

"Beth is going out there, and with the prisoner exchange in San Bernardino, I won't be here. I'd take it as a favor to me if you'd look after Beth, escort her there and back safely."

"Sure boss, I'd be glad too," Luke was no tinhorn, and he had been in the restaurant the morning before.

He'd seen Wheaton's prolonged and shameless look after Missus Morgan. He'd not said a word to the marshal about it, knowing Morgan would have ripped the town apart looking for Felix, and likely would have killed him. He silently vowed to make sure Elizabeth Morgan was kept at a safe distance from Felix Wheaton. He didn't want to see Hel Morgan on the prod, which would be bad for everyone.

Elizabeth had not gone back to bed, but had sat at her vanity, staring outside into the backyard until her husband left. Once he was gone she dressed and went back into the kitchen, working diligently to make a batch of muffins and a tray of cookies. She knew Timmy Bayne always enjoyed her baking and he had no one else to give him a meal. Placing them on the table to set and cool, she opened her parasol and stepped out into the stifling heat. Keeping to the shade as much as possible, Elizabeth made her way to Doctor Wellington's office, knocking as she entered.

"Come in, be right there!" his voice came from the back office and Elizabeth smiled.

"It's Elizabeth Morgan, I was coming to see about Victor Bayne, and if Timmy is ready for breakfast."

He popped his head out and flashed a smile at her.

"Of course. Give me a moment while I finish up this paperwork, then I'll go see if they're awake,"

She waited in the front room, her eyes lingering over the pictures of the ocean on his wall, depicting massive sailing ships. She'd always wondered what it would be like to sail on such a vessel. Her eyes flicked outside briefly, catching sight of Deputy Skye walking briskly along the lane between the businesses and the homes.

Frowning, Elisabeth shook her head. Why would he wear a coat on a day like today? Surely he would die of heat stroke! Her eyes followed him for a moment then she saw Felix exit the saloon, glancing both ways before heading toward the stable. On such a hot day, where could he be off to? she wondered. If he was nothing else, Felix Wheaton was a man who liked his comforts. Doctor Wellington broke into her musings, coming into the room as he smiled.

"I think Victor is going to pull through. His fever broke last night late, and he's been sleeping."

"Oh, what a relief!" she smiled nodding her head. "Timmy will be so glad. He looks up to Victor so much!"

"One moment Missus Morgan, let me just-" abruptly he cut off, his face going white as he opened the door of the room. Rushing in, she could hear him mumbling curses under his breath, things clattering hurriedly before deep silence set in. Appearing again, his features were somber, blood staining his hands and shirt as he met her worried gaze.

"Is your husband in town today?" Wellington's voice was hoarse, tight.

"Of course, he's probably down at-"

"Pardon me ma'am, but you need to go get him, quick." The last word was rapped out more like an order.

Elizabeth paused long enough to understand something had gone tragically wrong. She nodded, a queer trembling in her limbs.

"I'll go directly," looking back at him she swallowed. "Is there anything that can..." she let her voice fade.

Wellington shook his head.

"Please ma'am, if you'd hurry."

She nodded and left his office, hurrying along the walkway toward the marshal's office. Crossing the street was shocking, the scorching sun blazing down on her for those few brief seconds. Luke was in the office when she opened the door and he looked up, smiling when he recognized her. His smile faded at the look on her face.

"Deputy Skye, where's my husband?" she asked quickly.

"He stepped out for a minute," Luke came around the desk "You okay ma'am? You look...pale."

"Where's he gone? I must find him, now."

"He headed up the street to the telegraph office. He'll be right back."

"I cannot wait for him, thank you Deputy. If I should miss him, and he comes back here, have him go directly to Doctor Wellington's office."

"Yes ma'am," the young deputy looked after her as Elizabeth hurried away, her long skirt rustling.

'Hel'sgonna be ready to tear up the town,' he told himself, 'I never seen Missus Morgan move at anything faster than a leisurely walk'.

Elizabeth hurried along the walkway, dodging past people, ignoring their shocked looks as she hastened toward the telegraph building. It stood slightly apart from the rest of the town and she crossed into the bright sunshine heading for the door. It opened before she could get there and Morgan filled the doorway, a pensive look in his eyes. He started to smile at her then saw the expression on her face. He caught her elbows as she crumpled against him, her eyes squeezing tightly closed.

"Beth, honey what's wrong?" he put his arms around her, feeling the violent tremors in her body.

"You need to go see Doctor Wellington," she lifted her eyes to his. "Something terrible happened,"

It took only a second for his mind to adjust, relief flooding him that his wife was unhurt and safe. Then he straightened.

"Beth, you go on home, and stay there until I come. I'll be along right after I see the doc. Go right home, understand?"

"Yes," her eyes were dry, but Elizabeth was filled with horror. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the details of what had happened. "Shell... it must... it's just, what about Timmy...?"

In broad daylight, there in the middle of the street, Hel Morgan took his wife in his arms and put a long, tender kiss against her lips, hugging her tightly to him before releasing her. She was deathly pale, clear blue eyes wide with fear. Gently, he cupped her chin.

"I have to go see what happened, sweetheart. Go home and wait for me."

Numbly, her mind churning with all the terrible fantasies of the unknown, Elizabeth made it home, not remembering how she got there.