Vision swimming, an unnatural twilight encroaching on his view, Red didn't move. Diggs was no fool and was not about to let him gain an advantage. Only, he must die, of that Red was certain. This was over today. Diggs was talking but Red felt as though cotton was stuffed in his ears. Roy had to shout to get his attention.

"I'm not gonna just shoot you, Red! I'll give you a chance. A fair fight! Let's see if you really are as good as ever'one says!"

The absurdity of the request struck Red as funny. A chuckle formed deep inside him, a hard dry cackle and Diggs felt himself go cold. It was the sound of death riding on his heels.

"Get off that horse, Diggs, and take your best shot!" It startled the hired gun and he looked sharply at the tattered gunfighter, abruptly unsure.

Red taunted him though, driven by rage that was fueled by hatred. He was going to miss out on a life with Faith! He would be denied what he most wanted in the entire world, the love of a good woman.

"What's the matter, Diggs? A dead man scarin' you off? Or are you only tough around defenseless girls?"

An old memory surfaced in Diggs mind, but he pushed it away irritably. No one knew about that day! It was buried deep in the past and was going to stay there. Leroy Diggs swung out of the saddle and moved free of the horse, his eyes snapping. Though it was hot he stood tall, a dark brown coat over his blue shirt, a tan hat sweeping low over deep brown eyes and jet-black hair.

"Load your guns, Rivers, I'll let you."

Dropping the rifle Red lifted one of his Colts free, loading the chamber with a single bullet. He snapped it shut and spun the cylinder without taking his eyes off Roy. Diggs stared in disbelief.

"I ain't shootin' at a defenseless man! You load your piece! Make it fair!"

Red didn't respond, dropping the revolver back into the holster, his fingers loose and spread. He knew his gun; it would not fail him now. Vision dimming, Diggs' slowly becoming a blurry shape, he felt the end coming. Hot blood trickled down his skin in numerous places, every heartbeat driving more from his body.

Sounds were muted, as if filtered through thick glass. Suddenly cold, a deep chilling numbness whispered terrifyingly sweet words in his ear. He'd cached in his chips, played his hand and this was it. Both men were too good to miss from this distance.

"Goodbye, Faith," he muttered hoarsely, lips barely moving.

Red never knew when he went for his gun. The shots cracked like thunder and he felt himself sway then pitch backward. The ground reached up to catch him. He couldn't see the sun, but felt it's warmth on his body, smelling the fragrant scent of crushed flowers.

His mind cleared for just an instant. It left the image of a lovely face in his memory. Pale blond hair, deep gray eyes, and soft full lips calling his name. Then darkness claimed him.

~~~

Faith had seen them riding in. On her way home, the tightly bunched group of riders had caught her eye. Instantly recognizing Diggs, she swung the mare into a shallow gully, pulling up in a sparse patch of shade. Her fingers were cold and stiff on the rifle, but they never noticed her. A second later she realized why.

With loud calls and spurs to their horses, they took off after something heading into the mountains. Heart in her mouth, anger simmering in her blood, she'd known it was Travis. They'd seen him and had taken chase.

"Why wouldn't you let me help you," she muttered angrily, watching them with an unwelcome burn of tears in her eyes. "They won't let you live through this, Travis..."

Waiting until the dust trail began to settle, Faith started toward home, but her heart was restless. What was she doing? If she indeed meant what she'd told him earlier, wouldn't she be following him, making sure he got through this? Reigning in, her head lifted in sudden resolve.

Her mother had died protecting her, but she'd done it standing over the dead body of her husband. A final act of love, a desperation not to be left behind. Every time she thought of Travis, Faith could understand those actions. Wasn't she ready to face straight into the Devil's grinning jaws for him?

"Come on," she spoke suddenly to the mare, wheeling her around to follow the tracks in the dust. "Maybe he'll be mad, but at least he'll live to scold me."

Knowing what faced her, who was ahead of her, Faith braced herself against the still painful memories. The brutal betrayal, the harsh sobs, the violence of her rage.

After Roy had been driven off, she had returned to the cottage, determined to rid every trace of him from Wildcat.

She remembered yanking all the dresses from the closets, bundling them in her arms as she went outside throwing them on the ground. Her gaze had fallen on the white dress with the lace collar. After pulling that one free from the pile, she rehung it in the closet by itself. Somehow that one dress was special. The rest she had burned, piling on top of it all the furniture from the room Diggs had slept in during the time he lived here.

Everything he'd touched that could be destroyed went to fuel the fire. She'd stood there, watching it burn with hot tears streaking down her cheeks. Tears of outrage. Tears of hatred.

She had then bathed; scrubbing her body until her skin was raw and burning, cutting her long hair up around her shoulders. Still bare, scared, and angry, she had gone back to the cottage- Faith's memory paused. The cottage? No, around the cottage, to the shack, her legs had trembled violently, tears in her eyes, but she had not hesitated.

Inside the shack, on the floor in the back, were three chests. She had pulled one out and opened it up, looking down at folded clothes. Men's clothes. Buckskin pants and cream-colored cotton tunics lacing up the front with thin leather strips.

Faith could not recall ever having seen her father wearing them, but her memories were fragmented, vague and scattered. Determined to wear something more protective than a dress, she'd hugged the clothing to her chest, closing the shack door firmly behind her. Though baggy and loose fitting for a time, eventually her girlish figure had blossomed, and she grew into them.

Feeling the mare slow, Faith blinked rapidly, looking around. She hadn't been paying attention to where they were going, but- Gunfire jerked her head around, heart squeezing. Travis! The volley of shots roared like thunder, echoing from up ahead.

Mouth dry, she never hesitated. Urging the mare faster, Faith yanked her rifle smoothly from the bucket.

"I'm coming," she whispered into the wind. "Wait for me, I'm coming, Travis,"

The pair raced along the mesa, sliding down the steep incline to the open grasses of the hills just shy of Saddle Ridge, separating them from Bluebell meadow. Echoes of more gunfire came as she crested the ridge. Instantly swinging the mare at right angles to the meadow, she stayed in the trees, working her way quickly around toward the sounds. Sudden silence brought Faith to a halt, her hands tight in the mare's mane. Was it over?

"Travis," breathing the word, unable to swallow, she walked the horse to the edge of the trees and looked out, keen eyes searching. Some distance away she saw them. Travis swayed slightly on his feet, his shirt a tattered mess of bloody stains, his black hat low over his forehead. The rifle was in his hand. Facing him, with his back to Faith, the last killer was sitting in the saddle. Her gut clenched, bile climbing up her throat.

Leroy Diggs!

Heart hammering, breath coming in shallow pants, she watched as Diggs swung from his horse. In horror, she saw Travis drop the rifle. 'No, no, no! What are you doing?' Her mind was screaming in silent protest as she began to lift her rifle in readiness. Diggs said something she couldn't hear, but Travis answered by slowly dropping a bullet into his pistol before putting it back in his holster.

It was unreal, and Faith couldn't convince herself of what she was seeing. They moved suddenly. Sharp barks echoed across the meadow. She was off the mare and running as Diggs went down, dead. Travis swayed before he collapsed. Behind him, pinned beneath the body of his horse, was a man with a smoking rifle in his hand.

He was grinning with wild glee. Seeing Faith sprinting toward him, he cackled a laugh.

"I killed Red Rivers! I killed-!" He died gloating, the bellow of Faith's rifle hanging in the air. Panting, shaking, she ran to Travis, dropping to her knees at his side. Tears dripped from her eyes as she rolled him over.

"Travis," sniffling, shaking him by the shoulders, Faith called his name. "Answer me!"

Features slack, eyes closed, he lay limp and unmoving in the tall grass and crushed flowers. Calloused fingers were wrapped around the handle of his gun, clinging there as if in readiness for the next attack. Covering them with her own, Faith curled forward, resting her forehead on his, wetting his cheeks with her tears.

"Oh Travis..." voice a hoarse whisper, she shook her head, beginning to sob. "Come home now, okay?"

The buckskin moved to her side, nudging her elbow with a velvety nose in concern. Sitting up, she looked at him through blurry tears.

"Will you help me?" Wiping a hand across her nose, she gave a choked laugh. "You carried him here, so will you carry him home for me?"

The horses stood silent as she hefted the limp body up, managing to get it into the saddle. Leaving the others where they lay, ignoring the riderless horses grazing on the tall grass, Faith gathered the buckskin's reins as she turned for home.

Whatever he'd been in life no longer mattered. From this point on he'd be just Travis. Not the dead gunfighter, Red Rivers.

~~~

A rider from the 33 Connected heard the blazing guns and came upon the scene at the last. Red standing punched full of lead, facing off against the last of the posse. In a blur of motion, the men went for their guns. Neither missed. The last hired gun dropped dead, Red taking only a moment longer to fall.

Tyler watched her break from cover to run toward them, only to skid to a halt, lifting her rifle. Keen eyes picked out what she was aiming at a moment before she killed him. Lips twisting, the cowhand shook his head. Digg's hadn't made the kill shot. Red had been brought down by a bullet to the back. Gut churning, he watched as she began to cry.

This was the end he'd seen coming. It was the only end for a gunfighter. Bullets and blood. None of them ever grew old. It wasn't the cards they were dealt.

He walked the sorrel a step closer than paused. She'd want to be alone. To grieve. To rage. To cry.

Backing up, Tyler watched her struggle with Red's body, getting it onto the buckskin herself. Impressed, knowing she'd make out alight, he shrugged urging his gelding into a slow gallop. Diamond Phipps waited for him on the far side of the ridge, expression curious.

"What was all the noise?"

"Rivers is dead."

Diamond swore in surprise. He'd bet Red would come out of it. Now he'd owed Evans part of his pay. Tyler's mouth was a grim line.

"They're dead too. I think you boys can call your bets a draw."

"What?" Moving off at a trot, the pair pushed a few straying head of cattle back toward 33 land. "All of them?"

"All of them."

"No one's going to believe this."

"Probably not," Tyler agreed.

Word spread like wildfire across the country. Red Rivers was dead! He'd been hunted by over a dozen men and he had bested them all! Killed in a final shootout with seven gunmen, including Leroy Diggs, his demise would become legendary. His body shot to a rag doll, Red had defeated the likes of Pat Barnes, Joss Stone, and Burton Mead.

His reputation was now forever set, to be remembered with the like of Wes Hardin, William Bonney, and Pat Garrett. Gossip crossed the country on horseback, stagecoach, and telegram alike.

In a cool upstairs office near Tucson, New Mexico Territory, a man sat back in his chair after reading a telegram explaining the news. He chuckled as he bit off the end of a cigar and lit up, puffing contentedly. The rancher had wanted to secure his reputation as a man not to be crossed. Killing the likes of gunfighter Red Rivers had done that. The death of his idiot nephew in the saloon had been only a catalyst.

The man had nothing personally against Rivers, but he was shrewd and turned every opportunity to his own advantage. Now, his word would be like law, none would dare to question him. Everyone in the county knew he'd hired the men to hunt Red down. Even better, none of the mercenaries had survived the battle, so the reward money was still sitting in his pocket. He chuckled again and went to the window, looking out over his vast range. It was a beautiful day.

That same sun was shining through the dense trees deep in the Ozarks. An old man sat quiet at a table he had carved with his own hands. His eyes were a vivid blue, his deep mahogany hair mostly white. Two of his sons would be coming in soon, and his heart was heavy at having to tell them the news. The other boys would have to be told also, and that would fall to him to do.

He looked around the spacious cabin, seeing in his mind Travis on the floor, reading through one of the many books that lined the fireplace mantle. That boy had been the apple of his eye, reminding him so much of the youngster's mother. Now he was dead, shot down in some senseless manhunt. Six bullets they said, six fresh bullet holes plus numerous half-healed ones. The father put his head into his hands and quietly began to weep for his youngest son.

~~~

The breeze lifted the edge of Faith's skirt as she walked barefooted through the grass. She was headed toward a quiet spot, a secluded place sheltered from the rain, tucked back in among the trees. A large bouquet of flowers was in her hand and she tried hard to keep tears from falling. It was long overdue.

After bringing Travis home, she'd given into grief and despair. She'd been furious, hurt, and scared. Then the raw emotion faded, replaced by quiet acceptance. Now she was washed and dressed, the soft fabric smooth and gentle against her skin. Life had to go on.

She had carefully put up her thick hair, pinning it securely in place, and she wore the dress she had saved from the fire. It was made of light white cotton and lace, a wide swooping neckline and long fitted sleeves. It hugged her figure in all the right places and accented her natural grace. Faith found herself wishing she had worn it earlier. Stopping at the edge of the small glade she hesitated.

What good could she accomplish here? There was nothing she could do; nothing would change what happened. So maybe this was a waste of time.

She almost turned away; almost she left as quietly as she had come. Steeling herself though, Faith knelt briefly at the smooth stone slabs she had set up. Tears briefly warmed her eyes, but she blinked them away, smiling sadly. Pressing a kiss to her fingertips, she gave a gentle sigh, resting them against the stones as she set the flowers down.

"I won't forget you."

Now, walking back to the cottage she felt a peace that she had never remembered feeling before. She was going to be all right. The cottage was silent, unnaturally still as she entered, so she left the front door open. The fresh air was nice. Moving on silent feet to her bedroom, she eased open the door. What greeted her caused her heart to thump painfully against her ribs as her breath caught.

"Faith...?" it was as soft as falling rain, but warm.

"Hi,"

Those vivid blue eyes were finally open and clear, his damaged body wrapped with clean, white linen. She had removed all the slugs she could and patched him up as well as she knew how but could do nothing more. Travis lay more dead than alive for days, wracked by fever and chills. Plagued by nightmares. There had been times she was convinced he'd die but she couldn't make herself give up on him. Not until he stopped breathing.

Only thing was, he never stopped. Day after day, his heart kept beating. Gradually louder, stronger. Now-

"Where am I?" Travis remembered all too well the impact of bullets, the numbing darkness that preceded death. He remembered life fading from him. Blinking slowly, he glanced around before settling his gaze back on Faith.

"What...what happened?" He didn't have the strength to even frown, only lay there, looking up at her. Sunlight turned her hair into pale flames as tears sparkled in her eyes.

"You did your best to break your promise to me."

Going to his side she settled on the mattress, taking his fingers in hers. Her free hand brushed through his hair as she smiled lovingly, joy and relief brimming in her eyes. His skin was dry and warm, a welcome sign that he was beginning to mend.

"Haven't ever broke a promise to you, Faith," he murmured, the beginning of a smile teasing his lips. "Don't figure to ever start."

"Are you hurting?"

"Not at the moment," he paused, frowning. "Well, maybe a bit, but...nothin' I won't get over."

Her features brightened.

"I'm glad. I've never been so scared. I thought...I thought that..."

"Hey," his fingers moved, tightening a fraction around hers. "Me too...but I didn't."

"Yeah," sniffling a little, she half-giggled before sobering. Gazing at him, her head tilted a little. "I got things to tell you."

"I wanna hear them,"

"I'll wait until you're feeling stronger."

"I'd appreciate that," he breathed, actually able to smile this time. She smiled back. More memories had returned since that day. Bits and pieces of her life before, which was why she'd set up the memorial for her parents. She meant to tell him about it, to share with him who she was, and where she'd come from but right then, only one thing really mattered. Leaning down, she brushed her lips across his with feathery lightness.

"I won't let you go. You know that, right?"

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away."

"Then," she kissed him again, cupping his unshaven jaw in her hands. "Welcome home, Travis."

Thank you for coming along! A writer can be accomplished by just writing. An author needs an audience. I've always considered myself a writer, but I am humbled and grateful for all of you helping me to be an author. Thanks again.

Sara