Disclaimer: All the characters from the "Magnificent Seven" T.V. series are property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide.
There was only one way for Chris Larabee to prove that he was not going mad. After Buck Wilmington, his oldest and closest friend had informed him that the year was 1875 not 1880 as he believed, Chris found his mind reeling with the possibility that it might be true. How else could he explain how he had suddenly come to be in the same Mexican tavern that he and Buck had found themselves the night that Sarah and Adam had died? One moment he was in Four Corners, lying in bed with Mary and the next he had woken up to find himself here, five years in the past. Chris was not a man who believed in miracles and he had yet to decided how real any of this was, yet one thought registered above all else.
Sarah and Adam were still alive and there was still time to save them.
Buck had resumed dancing with his Mexican senorita although judging by the furrow in the man's face, his heart was not in it as it once was. His eyes were still fixed in Chris' direction, silent in the worries about the strange exchange of a few minutes ago. Chris felt his heart pounding in anxiousness because if this was real and he was here, he had to go home and he had do it now. Striding forward, he grabbed Buck by the arm and pulled him free of the woman. This time, she was not content to express her annoyance in a sharp glare aimed at his direction, instead her shrill voice exploded into a series of rude Mexican expletives.
"Now what!" Buck grumbled, wondering what the hell was going on in Chris' head today. He was convinced Chris had been drinking some of that home made stuff that the bartender sold to drunks who were too wasted to know any better.
"I'll explain later," Chris said abruptly, his grip around Buck's arm still firm as he dragged the big man out of the establishment, trailing a lengthy verbal assault from the young lady he was with.
"Explain what?" Buck demanded but made no attempt to pull away as Chris hauled him outside.
"On the way, Buck!" Chris retorted.
Both men left the tavern and immediately proceeded to the livery. The journey there had Buck firing numerous questions at Chris which the man in black did not respond. Outside the tavern, away from musty smell of cigars, liquor and cheap perfume, the night sky was beautiful and the air as equally fresh. Chris looked up into the sky and saw a myriad of stars twinkling with the same enchantment as he had known, during his last visit here. He had stared at the canvas or iridescence, without suspecting in the slightest what nightmare was taking place at home and what terrors were being faced by his wife and child in their final hours.
Not this time.
He had a chance to stop it from happening. Somehow, Fate had granted him a second chance to save Sarah and Adam and he was not going to waste it. When this had happened to him before, he and Buck had left this place too late to do anything but bury the dead bodies they had found. He closed his eyes shut, trying to force away the memory of how he had found them, their bodies burned and ruined. He had only managed to endure the ceremony of burial because he had been numb inside. Had he allowed the sheer horror of it to filter into his mind, he would have gone mad and plunged into an abyss from which there would be no return.
Back then, all he had been able to do for them was to give them a decent burial, a splinter of what he truly owed them but had little choice but to accept. Until Ella's arrival in Four Corners, he had not even known why, even thought the years preceding her arrival had allowed him enough time to conjure all sorts of reasons. Chris had always believed it was an old adversary, never realising for one moment that all enemies show their faces in the same way. They say evil can assume a pleasing shape and in Ella's case, it was frightfully true.
Buck Wilmington had tired of asking questions during the journey to the livery and had abandoned the idea of getting a straight answer out of his friend until after they had collected their horses and were on their way home. Despite his annoyance at being forcibly removed from the company of a very accommodating young woman, Buck knew that Chris did not do anything on a whim. Every thought and action was carefully calculated, nothing was ever left to chance. Buck knew that if Chris was this determined, there was a reason for it.
Buck studied Chris unobtrusively as they made their way out of town and saw that his best friend was almost on the edge of panic and could not understand what had frightened him so. It took a great deal to shake the iron hard exterior of Chris Larabee's persona but the expression on his face at the moment did not merely look shaken but afraid. Chris was afraid and for Buck, the idea was almost preposterous. Chris feared nothing, had done so ever since they met the first time. There were very few men that could walk through life the way Chris did and still allowed some measure of humanity to survive the darkness within their souls.
The darkness inside Chris Larabee was always there, surfacing just enough to tell an enemy to withdraw, lest they provoked something terrifying into making itself known. Buck had seen it himself, those fleeting moment when it appeared in the ice of Chris eyes and what he had seen made him recoil. Something so black and vile, predatory in its savagery and possessing the cool of a killer without remorse, would present itself, daring someone to provoke it into action. He knew Chris kept tight rein of it, controlled it with shackles of discipline and ruthless determination. Buck could not possibly imagine what would happen if it was ever allowed to take complete possession of Chris Larabee. He only knew if it took Chris, it would never let go.
Once they had left the town far behind them, Buck asked his questions again. "You mind telling what the hell is going on now?" He looked at Chris with a frown, understanding that this was Chris way but refusing to believe he should have to like it.
Chris took a deep breath and knew he owed Buck an explanation even though when he did tell his story Buck would most likely think he was crazy. In truth, Chris did not know what was real or unreal any more. He remembered the past five years, the grief and pain of Sarah and Adam's death and the ultimate healing that brought him Mary. It was as clear in his head as this place before him. All he knew was in this time, Sarah was still alive and he clung to that as the only anchor for his sanity to cope.
Releasing a held breath as he formulated some sort of way to present an explanation to Buck, Chris met the gaze of his old friend who would stick by him through the worst of what would happen, should be fail to save Adam and Sarah tonight. "Do you remember me telling you about Ella Gaines?"
"Yeah," Buck nodded, recalling the lady in question even though he had never met her but knew her from Chris' recollections. "You took up with her straight after you got out from the army, didn't you?"
"That's right." Chris swallowed. "I met her just after I resigned and turned in my stripes. When I got out, I drifted for a bit. There wasn't no family waiting for me so I didn't really have any place to go. I ran into Ella and it was like fire and oil from the moment we met. Being with her was like having a fever in your head, she made me crazy and I was ready to shoot anyone that came between us. It was self destructive and I knew it couldn't last forever."
"Ones like that burn out quickly." Buck replied, unable to imagine Chris in the grip of such passionate relationship. With Sarah, the relationship was warm and affectionate, devoid of the heat of a frenzied sexual fire but nonetheless just as satisfying.
"They do," Chris agreed. "Unfortunately for Ella it didn't. When I left her and moved on, I assumed she did too. Buck she's been watching me every day since I left her. She's had people follow me, keeping a bead on who I'm with and who I've married. She thinks I'm hers and she ain't gonna stand anyone else being in the way." Chris met his eyes so that Buck would understand the full measure of Ella's insanity.
Buck started to understand where this was going. "Are you telling me, she might think Sarah and Adam are in the way?"
"Don't ask me how I know this," Chris continued and prayed that Buck would leave it at that. However, he needed Buck's help if he was going to stop Fowler and the men who were on their way to his home, if they were not already there. "She's hired men to kill Sarah and Adam and they are going to do it tonight, while we were in Mexico."
Buck's eyes widened. "Jesus, Chris!" He swore. "Why didn't you just tell me this?"
Chris did not know how to explain to Buck that he had seen an alternate ending to this situation, where he and Buck had stayed on in Mexico as planned only to return home the next morning, to find his house a funeral pyre to his dead wife and son. How in the years that followed, he would almost be driven mad by the grief until a chance stop at a small town called Four Corners, would change everything with a glimmer of cascading gold hair.
"I can't explain it in anyway that can make sense." He retorted, hoping that it would be enough to satisfy Buck for the moment. "All I know is that we have to get there before Fowler and his men arrived or they're going to burn down the house with Sarah and Adam in it."
"Christ," Buck turned away, exasperated by the lack of answers but struck by the fact that had they stayed in Mexico like he wanted and if Chris was right about these men, then Sarah and Adam would die because of him.
Chris knew exactly what Buck was thinking, even though he had hurdled the need to blame Buck following the death of his family. He knew that was part of the reason why Buck had endured the next five years, always remaining close enough to come to his aide if required. During those first few months, Buck was all that had kept Chris Larabee from putting a bullet in his head. Buck had refused to let Chris take the easy way out and the result had been a fracture in their friendship that had never really healed, no matter how much time had passed. Sure, they were still friends but it was not quite the same as what it was before.
"Will this woman Ella be there?" Buck ventured a guess.
"Yes," Chris nodded, his voice icy cold as he made the admission. Mary had mentioned something about Ella's presence at the house the night Sarah and Adam had been killed but did not go into details. Chris had the impression she was trying to protect him from something, although he could not for the life of him imagine what that might be. After losing his wife and son to a fire, Chris could not see what could be worse beyond knowing that. "If she is," he said coldly, "I'm going to find her and make sure they lock her up forever."
Buck hoped that was all he was going to do.
Okay, she was not dreaming.
She knew this for certain now. Mary Travis found herself walking through the town of Four Corners, not knowing why how this could have happened but having come to the conclusion that this was not fantasy. The rampage by the drunks had subsided for the moment and the town was using the quiet to repair the damage caused by stray fire and general rowdy behaviour. She had left Stephen in his office after cooking breakfast for him and Billy, to take a walk so that she could catch her breath at everything that had happened since this morning.
Despite herself, she could not help feeling some measure of irritation knowing that the office she had spent the last three years, being editor and chief of the Clarion News was no longer hers. She was ashamed of her selfishness. After all, she had always wished for Stephen to survive that terrible night when those greedy landowners had come to take his life. However, in having this particular wish come true, Mary was remembering some other things that had been conveniently forgotten in time. Stephen was a wonderful husband but he let her do nothing and took care of everything. When she had lost him, she understood how much of a liability it was to go through life assuming your husband was required to take care of things.
Strangely enough, during the few weeks she had been married to Chris, that had never been a problem. His requirements were slight, as long as he had enough money to buy bullets and liquor, he did not care what happened to his money and preferred that she managed it. He left most things to her because he knew she was capable of taking care of it and only offered his opinion, when he felt strongly enough about something to make himself heard. For most part, Chris was easy going and very different from what she remembered of married life with Steven.
As she strolled along the board walk, she could not help feeing a pang of yearning for him. However, this reality that she was now trapped in had turned her world upside down and suddenly, Mary did not know how she ought to feel about him. Steven was back in her life and she loved her husband as much as she always had but the years since his death had changed her and she was coming to the uncomfortable realisation that the woman who was wife and had spent years mourning her husband was gone. A new creature resided in her place. A creature who was fiercely independent, who knew her mind and was not afraid to storm the gates of heaven to get it and most of all, a woman who was still very much in love with Chris Larabee.
She found herself at the general store and peered through the shop front window, paying little attention to the items in display but more concerned with what was transpiring inside. She could see Mr Hennessy taking case of a number of customers who were at the cash register with their goods, while spotting Mrs O'Leary engaged in a rather heavy session of gossip with Mrs Stern whose husband was the local barber. Mary searched the store until her eyes rested on a figure in the background, trying to go unnoticed as he continued to pack the shelves with packets of flour.
Mary found herself smiling despite herself, seeing the utter boredom in his handsome face as he placed another packet of flour on the shelf, while trying to ignore the gaggle of words emanating from Janet and concentrate on what he was doing. He seemed so completely lost doing what he was and Mary knew that he was probably imagining wide open spaces where he could lose himself in the wilderness in complete anonymity. Vin Tanner looked completely out of depth as he tried to adhere to the mundane existence of a shop clerk, trying not to hate what he was doing and looking only for the slightest excuse to get himself thrown out of the place. Mary smiled in secret knowledge, completely aware that the time was drawing near for the event that would change all their lives and the future of Four Corners.
She resumed walking, pleased that salvation for Vin was just around the corner. Her eyes shifted to the town beyond the boardwalk, unable to believe how much would change in two short years following the arrival of the seven. At the moment, it looked as lawless as ever. The sheriff was nowhere to be seen and Mary fumed knowing that he was most likely cowering under his desk in fear, just in case he might be called on to perform his duties.
It surprised her how much law and order had changed Four Corners. At the moment, it looked like any other town where the law of the gun had run rife and citizens were force to tread lightly in fear of the men who wielded their weapons like demi-gods, uisng fear and intimidation to get whatever they wished. The seven had changed all that. Mary sometimes wondered if any of them knew just how much they had contributed to the prosperity of Four Corners, following their arrival. With their presence in town firmly entrenched, businesses had returned, people who were ready to pack and abandon it had been persuaded to stay and suddenly, no one was afraid any more.
Mary was so intent in her observations that she took her gaze from the path she had been walking and found herself bumping into someone.
"I'm sorry..." she started to say when she looked up at the stranger's face and reacted almost immediately. "Chris!" She gasped.
The man in black stared at the woman before him, hiding everything behind his steely blue gaze. Like she, he had not been watching where he was going; more interested in finding where the saloon was situated in this dusty town. However, as he laid his eyes upon her, he felt his breath catch and something inside him, long believed to be dead, shook itself free like a huge dog shaking the water off its back.
Sweet Jesus, she was beautiful!
That was the only thing that Chris Larabee could think as he looked into the most expressive blue eyes he had ever seen. In a flash he saw things within those specks of grey that made him feel like a teenager again and the need to run his fingers through that cascade of gold hair framing her lovely face was more than he could stand. He took a step away from her hastily, like he had been scalded at her touch, unable to remove his eyes from that face. It took him another second after he had stepped away from her to realise that she had called his name.
"I don't think we've met." He said coolly.
Mary saw the confusion in his eyes coupled with the intense feeling she would come to know as his love for her, reflecting back at her. He was just as captivating to her as he had been the first time he strode forward into danger, with his black duster trailing behind him in the wind, looking as if hell had rode into town wearing the face of a god. Of course he would not know her even though how he felt was apparent in his face. She felt a swell of pride knowing that he had been affected by her almost as completely as she had when they first laid their eyes upon each other. Mary felt her heart pounding in her chest and knew that around him, a normal heart rate was going to be a memory.
"You're Chris Larabee," she said recovering as best she could. "The gunfighter."
"Just Chris Larabee.' He answered, studying her with that penetrating gaze of his.
His heart was beating in his chest and although he wanted to continue the conversation with her, he had no idea what to say. He had not been this tongue tied with any woman like this since Sarah. Suddenly, the memory of his wife surfaced in his mind. It reminding him of how things were and made him feel extraordinarily guilty that he was even looking at this woman, whom he just noticed was wearing a wedding ring, like someone he would love to take somewhere and spend a lifetime making love to.
"Will you be staying long in Four Corners, Mr Larabee?" Mary asked, her own voice breathless because she wanted so much for him to take her in his arms and explain what was going on. She looked at him and knew for certain that this reality should not be. Steven had died and as much as she loved him and might have wished for his return, she knew that the person who made that wish had moved on and this reality that she was now experiencing was not meant to be. Mary wanted her life back, the life where she had married this man before her a few weeks ago, where he had made love to her this morning after breakfast.
"Just passing through." Chris answered, telling himself to walk away but finding that he could not. He studied her face, admiring the luminescent skin whose texture of ivory made him want to brush his fingers against the peach like softness of her face and feel the silk of those pink lips.
"That is unfortunate." She continued, her eyes never leaving his and unspoken things were conveyed and the electricity between them was a force to be felt, a heat that could stood on the edge of starting an inferno.
"I can't see no reason why....Mrs?" He asked, his gaze briefly moving to her hand where her wedding ring glimmered under the sunlight.
"Just Mary." She said softly, feeling somewhat ashamed admitting to him that she was married. What must he think of her? A married woman, starting a conversation with a known gunmen in the middle of a public street, with her attraction for him obvious to anyone who paused to look. Her cheeks flushed crimson at the idea and she looked around nervously, breaking the gaze long enough to see a few curious eyes in her direction.
"Maybe I'll see you around, Mary." Chris replied, taking the opportunity to break away.
"I think you will." Mary called out to him.
He looked over his shoulder, long enough to give her a faint smile, one of those shadowy smiles that she had so much trouble reading in the beginning. However, he did not answer but there was just enough sparkle in those cobalt coloured eyes to agree with her. Mary let out a sigh and turned away from him, when she found Steven staring at her.
"Steven." She swallowed being able to tell by the dark expression on his face that he had seen the whole exchange and was completely unimpressed by her behaviour.
"What the hell were you doing talking to that man?" He hissed, taking her arm and towing her back to the Clarion, in front of god and everyone.
"Steven!" She exclaimed loud enough for Chris to pause in his footsteps and watch her being manhandled across the street. She saw a slight flicker in his eyes as if he wanted to intervene but knew not whether he should or not.
"Steven Travis, let me go!" She pulled herself free. "What is the meaning of this?" She demanded, glaring at him in indignant fury. All eyes were fixed on them and Mary felt her cheeks deepen with a crimson shade in pure mortification of this public display.
"Mary," he said barely concealing his anger. "I saw you talking to that man! That's Chris Larabee! The gunfighter! A decent woman does not carry out conversations in public with that kind of scum!"
Mary immediately shifted her gaze to Chris and saw him standing on the barest edge of control. She knew it would take little more than another harsh word from Steven before the gunslinger would be on his way to her defence. Mary did not want things to reach that point. "I'm sorry Steven," Mary said swallowing her anger and tolerating his anger for the moment. There was a sequence of events that needed to happen and if Steven and Chris become locked in some kind of confrontation, it would not happen and neither would everything she remembered. "I ran into him by mistake and we started talking, there was no impropriety intended. I apologise if it appeared that way."
That seemed to pacify his anger and he softened considerably at her admission. "I'm sorry too Mary," he reached for her and ran a gentle wisp of his thumb against her chin. "I over reacted. I just want to keep you safe."
"I know." She replied and linked her arm through his before continuing back to the Clarion.
When she looked over her shoulder as they drew away, she saw that Chris was gone.
Vin Tanner stared at Kincaid's body wondering how this could be.
He knew for a fact that Kindcaid had died more than two years ago because finding his body and returning it to Tascosa had been one of the defining moments in his life. The sequence of events that would shape his future following his return to Tascosa had stemmed from this one pivotal moment. When he had taken the body back to the little town, Vin had never suspected that the body he was carrying had been any one but Eli Joe's. He supposed it was an easy enough mistake because Eli Joe had selected his victim well. The man who was lying half immersed in the water trough bore enough of a physical resemblance to the image of Eli Joe on the poster Vin had at the time, for the tracker to make the mistake of thinking it was him.
For a few seconds after his discovery, Vin merely sat and stared in stupefied astonishment at the body before him, trying to understand how this could happen. He had come to realise that somehow, although he was at a loss to know how, he had been returned to the day he had found Kincaid's body. The irony of it was that he had always wished for the opportunity to return to this moment, to walk away so that he could avoid the ramifications it would have upon the rest of his life. Without the bounty on his head, he could actually marry Alex and make a decent start to their life together.
Walking away now would ensure that much would happen but that he still wanted to bring Eli Joe in for using this poor unfortunate as bait. For the longest time, Eli Joe had operated on the assumption that Vin did not know what the outlaw looked like. However, things had changed significantly with the present situation. Vin did know what Ely Joe looked like and he also knew that this body in the trough was a trap laid for him. Vin also had the advantage of surprise because at this time, the outlaw would assume that he had return with the body to Tascosa to collect his reward. Eli Joe would have every reason to believe that Vin was no longer on his trail and thus would not be looking over his shoulder.
Besides, even if Vin did walk away now, where could he go? Alex was still travelling the world with her father and Chris Larabee had yet to make the fateful trip to Four Corners that would see the formation of the seven. Even then, there was no guarantee that Eli Joe would not come for him because Vin had been the only bounty hunter to get within hair's breath of taking him in. Such men could not live with that possibility hanging over their heads. In the past Vin remembered, Eli Joe had tracked him down even after he was a fugitive with a price on his head. Vin had no intention of walking away only to have Eli emerge from the woodwork in the future to visit grief upon everyone he cared about.
Vin pulled the body out of the water, deciding that if he was going leave Kincaid then the least he could do for the man was give him a proper burial. Vin returned to Peso and rummaged through his saddle, seeking for the tool that would allow him to dig a suitable grave. Like before, there did not seem to be anyone present so he had to find a suitable spot for the gravesite and hoped that Kincaid would not mind the choice. Even though the cold had set into the man's corpse from being in water, the look of him told Vin that Kincaid had not been dead for very long. As he produced the small spade he had in his keeping, Vin decided that once he had completed the task before him, he would camp some distance away from the property and wait until first light.
Once the sun was up, he would return and conduct a thorough investigation of the place, seeking the tracks he had never bothered about before that might give him a clue as to which direction Eli Joe might have headed. No doubt the outlaw would be complacent now, assuming Vin had fallen into his trap and would not be expecting him to continue the hunt. As Vin started digging, he realised he knew very little about Kincaid and wondered if the man had any family to mourn him in or would even care if he was dead. He assumed there had not been because he had been residing in Four Corners for some time now and the only ones who seemed interested in bringing him in were the private bounty hunters and not the law.
In any case, the task of burying Kincaid did not take long. A little more than an hour had passed following Vin's discovery of the body before the tracker put the final piece in the ring of stones that framed the mound where Kincaid was laid to rest. He had selected a spot underneath the shade of some trees not far from the house and although the darkness did not allow him a clear view of the site, it seemed peaceful and somewhat appropriate for a final resting place. Vin wanted to say a few words but nothing came to mind so he decided to leave it at that. If Kincaid had family, they would find him soon enough. Vin had left enough markers to indicate where the grave was.
Returning to Peso, Vin felt the need to put as much distance between himself and this property as possible. A slight shudder ran through his spine at the knowledge that he had somehow stepped through time to emerge at such a fortuitous place in time. Climbing back on top of his horse, Peso seemed just as happy to depart as Vin himself. Before Vin could even nestled himself back into the saddle, Peso had started moving of its own volition, indicating to its master its eagerness to leave this place. Animals were known to have keener senses then men would ever know and Vin wondered if Peso could feel the disturbance in time and space that had allowed his return to this point.
"Come on boy," he dug his heels in and Peso broke into a robust trot away from the property, covering enough distance in a few short minutes to put the place far behind them. Vin could not blame his horse for feeling skittish. This entire situation reeked of supernatural forces at work. Vin was neither gullible nor superstitious but he was not obtuse enough to deny what was right in front of his eyes. He knew his mind, he knew that he had come across Kincaid's body before this and events had unfolded in a different way. Why some twist of fate had allowed him to be in the same position again was beyond his ability to answer but he knew if he had a chance to change things he was going to take it.
The further he drew away from the Kincaid property, Vin found himself wondering how things would progress after this point. While he knew what would happen when he finally made his way to Four Corners, everything between now and then was a mystery and Vin knew it was never wise to tamper with the way things ought to be. However, in Eli Joe's case, he was willing to make the exception. Vin rode further into the darkness, seeking a suitable place to make camp. Despite himself, he found himself wishing Alex was here. He missed her terribly and had no idea how he was going to endure the lonely nights before her arrival in Four Corners.
Even when that did happen, there was no guarantee that she would even recognise him and what they had meant to each other. He was almost tempted to go after her, wherever she was but unfortunately wherever she was, was nowhere on this continent. If what she had told him was correct, at this moment Alexandra Styles was somewhere across the sea with her father. Besides, Vin did not know whether he wanted to face William Styles and explain to the man how a tracker without a penny to his name had somehow won his daughter's heart.
Still, it pleased him to know that if he resolved this situation with Eli Joe, he would no longer be a fugitive. When Alex finally came into his life, everything about their relationship would change. He could marry her, without having to worry about some bounty hunter turning up periodically to claim the $500 reward for his head. It was strange, Vin had never believed he was the marrying kind. Certainly not to a lady of Alex's calibre. Colour not withstanding and he would readily gut any man who made reference to her skin, she was indeed a lady as any he had ever met. Although he feared what William Styles might think of him, Vin would have like to have known the man.
Judging from what Alex had told him about her father, it would have been quite something to know William Styles, since nothing about him seemed very conventional. Vin admired the man for raising such a headstrong daughter even though the fruits of his labour tended to give Vin more headaches than he could possibly imagine, especially when Alex got into her mind to do something to which Vin was diametrically opposed.
He was some distance away from Kincaid's property when suddenly, he could see the illumination of a campfire in the distance. He was still far away enough not to be heard by whomever had started the fire and Vin immediately pulled Peso to a halt. There was no other sound to be heard, except the voices emanating from the fire and the occasional hoot of an owl in the darkness. Vin had a good idea who was out there so he climbed off his horse and tethered Peso to a nearby tree. He could make the rest of the journey ahead on foot and it would be far wiser to make a stealthy advance.
Moving through the scrub, Vin blended into the dark, making no sound as he crept towards the fire, his eyes keeping watch on everything around him, paying attention to every bit of sound that spoke to him in the night. Despite his eagerness to have his suspicion confirmed, he did not make the mistake of rushing in blindly. The enemy had proved himself to be a crafty opponent and the innocent sounds in the dark might easily be faked to trick someone into believing all was well. Vin who had used the tactic enough times in his life, was very aware of this.
However, by the time Vin finally neared the campfire, he had so far remained unaccosted or had yet to stumble into any ambush. As he let his guard down a bit, he neared the edge of the fire's concentration, closing in on the prey just far enough to see the illumination of the campfire, bouncing off himself but not enough to be seen by the four men who were gathered around it. Their lively chatter indicated no sign of awareness of being watched and judging by the slur in their speech, they were quite drunk. Vin's eyes moved across the faces, recognising none of them as he followed the bottle they were passing around. Only when the last man took a hold of it, did Vin's breath catch.
Eli Joe was among them.
Vin's eyes narrowed at the sigh of his nemesis, wondering if the man had any idea that he was being watched or how much difficulty he had caused Vin in the past that only the tracker remembered now. Of course he knew, Vin thought ruefully glaring at Eli Joe who was taking a swig from the bottle of whisky being bandied about. It had been the man's plan all the time, not only to make Vin a hunted fugitive but to make him feel just as hunted and disaffected as he did, to make him know what it was to not have a future. If it was not for Chris Larabee and Alexander Styles entering his life, Vin might have very well succumbed to the anguish that Eli Joe had wanted him to endure, except there was one significant difference between himself and the man he had been tracking.
Vin had never murdered anyone.
Still all that had now changed. The moment he had walked away from Kincaid, he had erased the stain that would follow him in the years ahead and by the time Vin was done with Eli Joe tonight, there would be no other Kincaid's left to find.
When Alexandra Styles finally coaxed her legs into movement, she ran forward and embraced the man coming towards her without care or thought for that matter of the spectacle she was making of herself. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him close to her, unable to believe that it was really him until she was able to feel the warmth of his familiar embrace around her. The tears had come so quickly, she had little time to stop them as she held her father in a hug full of happiness and rejoicing.
"Daddy" Alex whispered, crying softly as she clung to him. "Its really you."
William Styles was mildly surprised by this emotional greeting from his usually level headed and extremely competent daughter. "Of course it's me, Lex." He said somewhat puzzled by the reception. "You only saw me yesterday."
Alex pulled away from him and composed herself, ignoring the strange looks she was getting from the people moving past her in the hospital corridor. Yes, that would make sense in this strange world she had stumbled into. He was always a big part of her life, even if she did snare a plush posting in a hospital like this, she had no doubt he would cross an ocean to be with her. They had rarely been apart since the day she was born and Alex had no doubt that if Randall Mason had not caused his death prematurely, they would still be together.
"I'm being silly," she said drawing breath to steady herself at the shock of seeing him here. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she looked at him and saw that he had not changed at all. He still wore his favourite dark suit, his once dark hair having thinned considerably and he stared at hers with the dark brown eyes that most thought she had inherited from her mother but were actually from him. "I'm having a very strange day," she responded, uncertain if she ought to tell him that just yesterday, she was in a world far removed from this one.
"Well," he frowned, not believing it for a second because there seem to be more to it than she was letting on. However, as he had come to know about his daughter, she would let him know when she was ready. "I thought I would tear you away from this bastion of medical conformity and take you to lunch."
"Bastion of medical conformity?" Alex had to laugh, remembering how he felt about practicing in a proper hospital. Her father severely disliked conventional medical practices, which was why he had spent the first half of his life trekking across the globe and the rest of it taking her with him. "Daddy, you haven't changed a bit but lunch sounds good." She smiled, linking her arm through his as they resumed walking towards the main doors.
William Styles stared at her a moment, wondering what was behind that odd remark and shook it off. "You seemed a little distracted, Lex."
As they stepped out of the hospital into the sunshine beyond the white walls of the establishment, Alex took a deep breath and decided that the air like everything else she had experienced today was real enough. She was still confused at how she had come to this place but at the moment, with the blue sky shinning gloriously over the manicured perfection of the hospital lawns and her father at her side, she decided she could leave the questions of the how until later. For right now, she wanted to enjoy the moment, even if she could wake up at any moment and find this to be nothing more than a vivid dream.
"I'm wondering what I'm doing here." She admitted, deciding that was as close as she was going to get to telling him the truth.
"I often wonder myself. We're in a new continent," he declared, his gaze moving across the place in a gesture of the land's sweeping vastness. "We could travel the country from one end to the other, I for one would like to meet the Indians at some point. I could probably devote an entire section of my book to their medicine men alone. Unfortunately," he sighed with the barest hint of a smile on his face. "I am doomed to languish in this stolid surroundings because my daughter wishes to adhere to convention and practise like an outstanding member of the medical community."
Alex rolled her eyes, remembering his sense of humour and realising that she probably acquired it from him. "That's not exactly true you know." She remarked, embarking upon an idea that was probably insane but not caring because there were two things in her life she could not do without. One was her father and through some miracle he was here, talking about exploring America like he was Marco Polo setting out on the Silk Road. However, his remarks did give her the opportunity to acquire the other thing she could not be without.
Vin.
"I would not mind practising some frontier medicine." She met his gaze and saw the surprise filtering into his face at her admission. "Perhaps in some place like the west."
"Really Lex?" He stared at her hard. "I never thought you were interested in frontier work. That is probably my fault for dragging you half way across the world."
"Daddy," Alex sighed, not liking for one minute that he believed she might have not enjoyed time together. "I loved every minute of it but I have a question of you first." Undoubtedly, if she wished to make her way to Four Corners, deep inside what was known to proper Bostonians as the Territory, her father would accompany her and to truthfully, Alex was reluctant to leave him behind after finding him again.
"I am intrigued." Styles retorted and he truly was. For as long as she had completed her internship, all Alex had ever wanted to do was practise in a proper hospital. Although he was disappointed for he had hoped they would resume their globe trotting once again, he understood that he could not hamper her quest for her own dreams. Unfortunately, he was painfully aware that proper English society considered his beloved daughter to be of questionable pedigree despite the fact that he came from a notable family. However, who her mother had been would follow Alex all her life and he knew that there would be no residency at any hospital with that stain in her past. Thus, he had used his considerable influence across the Atlantic, calling on favour from friends who were physicians in the New World and landed her this post.
Since her arrival at Boston Mercy, Alex had accomplished what most women of her time could only dream of. She had become a surgeon with a reputation that was quickly becoming one of the most notable in Boston. Even though he missed not having to travel, he was still exceedingly proud of her. To hear that she now considered leaving all this behind for something entirely different, practising frontier medicine no less, was somewhat of a surprise.
"Daddy, if I told you I met someone, what would you say?"
He showed no reaction even though inside, William Styles knew that this day would come. He hated thinking his free spirited daughter chained to a society like this. Bostonians were the most boring people in the world, the very idea of Alex becoming counted with their ranks was depressing. "What would you like me to say? I always assumed this would happen. I gather he is a doctor?" He ventured a guess.
Alex smiled, seeing the dread in his eyes. He could never lose her, did he not understand that? They finally reached the edge of hospital grounds and stepped onto the sidewalk that ran past one of the many streets in Boston. The day had brought everyone out and well dressed folk in suits, made their way up and down paved streets with lamp posts and grand buildings towering over them. It was so far removed from Four Corners that Alex knew in an instant that she hated it.
"No daddy," she replied, wondering how she would describe Vin to him. "He's not a doctor, or a lawyer or anything like that. He can barely read, although I understand his lessons are progressing well. He's a lawman in the Territory."
His amazement showed. "How on Earth did you meet a lawman in Boston?" He asked, although Alex had yet to see any signs of disapproval in his eyes.
"It's a long story." She said brushing the question aside. He had no idea how long a story it really was. "He doesn't have a penny to his name or anything else for that matter. He lives on a dollar a day." Alex had no idea how much her expression told her father as she spoke of Vin, unaware that the emotion swelling inside her heart was being reflected in her eyes. "But he loves me daddy, he doesn't care who my mother was, he doesn't call me a doctor, he calls me a healer and at this moment, he's in back in a little town called Four Corners, doing the things he does. I miss him."
"I can see that." Styles responded, having never seen his daughter being so taken by any man. He supposed if this lawman was anything like how she described him, Alex had ever reason to be so enamoured. Styles himself could not judge, he would reserve that opinion until he met the man for himself, although in truth, he cared little about the man's background just his character. Alex's mother had been the single brightest light of his life, eclipsed only by the daughter she left him. He had never regretted for one moment the decision to take Yasmine for his wife, despite the objections of his family due to her heathen background and her vocation as a dancer. The brief years he had spent with her had been the best of his life. He would not trade them for anything. Certainly not for the respectable English wife everyone had assumed he should have taken. If Alex had found someone who fulfilled her in the same way, he could not begrudge her his blessing because he knew what it was like to be cast out for the choices on made in life.
"So, what is this lawman's name?"
"Vin. Tanner" She answered, pleased that she saw no recriminations in his face and was grateful that her father was not inundating her with questions since when she finally did arrive at Four Corners, she was going to have enough of that with Vin. Nevertheless, Alex was determined to find the tracker even if he had no idea who she was. Besides, she knew Vin loved her.
He just did not know it yet.
When Ezra Standish finally walked out of the townhouse supposedly occupied by himself, his wife and two children, the gambler found himself letting out a sigh of relief the likes of which he had never known before. Once in New Orleans, he had been forced to play a hand of poker with two rather menacing individuals who took to polishing their knives during the game as a clear indicator to their opponents as to what would happen should they lose the hand. Ezra, who had been holding a straight flush at the time had never been so concerned in his life and later considered it to be the most frightened he had ever been.
Finding out he was married with children, was even worse than that.
Although he stumbled through most of the morning like a soldier suffering battle fatigue, Ezra had somehow managed to offer his 'family' enough coherence to not rouse any suspicions. When he had finally left for work, he had been most astonished to find he had a carriage waiting for him and had confessed his desire to take in some fresh air before Annabelle would let him leave on his own volition. Ezra had no idea being married could be so damn restrictive. Upon leaving the house, he came to the very terrifying conclusion that if this was what it was like just to endure a morning in the state of matrimony, he would never survive a life time.
Despite his abhorence to the whole prospect of a having a wife, he had to admit feeling some spark of pleasure at seeing his children. Elizabeth seemed to be his shadow, following him around for most of the morning, chattering idly about things only a child considered important and to his surprise, Ezra found he did not mind listening to her prattle on. Then again, Ezra had always had a soft spot for children although he would rather be tarred and feather before he was ready to admit it.
According to Annabelle, he was a lawyer and if it were not for the cards in his wallet, Ezra would have had no idea where his office was or what city he was presently in. He discovered that he was indeed in Charleston as he had guessed earlier in an address that was located in the fashionable side of town. Ezra walked past the tree-lined avenues, admiring the old houses that had probably been standing for as long as Charleston had existed on the map. He had to admit this fantasy of the life he had dreamt of as a child, certainly did fit the image held in his mind.
He was expected at work apparently and a morbid curiosity was drawing Ezra to the office where he supposedly conducted his law practice. Although he knew in his mind that everything that had happened today was impossible, he wanted to see what his respectable alter ego did during his day. Ezra could not imagine himself as a notable man of the law but he had considered that a solicitor would have a great deal of resources at his disposal. Perhaps, he could make use of those resources to find Julia and the rest of the seven. If he was here in this twisted reality, where the rest of his friends? What had happened to his mother? Was she still moving from place to place, following one con after another? How had she managed without him?
Despite the idyllic existence he had supposedly wanted all his life, Ezra felt suffocated by the whole persona he had woken up to this morning. He needed a drink badly and he needed a game of cards to remind him who he was. He thought about Julia, feeling a deep pining for her as he wondered where she was in the scheme of things. Was she in Four Corners with the rest of the seven? He wondered if they would miss him and before he realised that such a thing was an impossibility when he had never been apart of their lives in the first place. He had no illusions that they would have gone on quite well without him, finding no sense of loss by his absence.
Eventually, he relented and proceeded to the office where he supposedly carried out his career as a lawyer of some note in Charleston. The city itself had not changed and Ezra was able to navigate he way through the streets and busy avenues to find the prestigious business district where as displayed on the card, resided the office of Ezra Standish, Attorney at Law. Even seeing it on the card did not make it any real for him because Ezra still had memories of who he had been and those memories did not speak of a person of any repute. The man he had been, no, he corrected, the man he was, had the basic ingredients of morality but little more than that.
The office was located in a building that towered at least three stories in height and as he walked into the main lobby, a well dressed door man tipped his hat in Ezra's direction and greeted him with a wide smile. "Good morning Mr Standish."
"Good morning." Ezra said trying to return the warmth in the man's voice even though he did not feel it.
"Congratulations on your big case." He added. "You sure show them darkies how we do things in the south."
Ezra looked at him sharply. What the hell did he mean by that? Ezra wondered, starting to have some very terrible suspicions rising from the pit of his stomach. "Thank you." He said hiding how much the door man's words had shaken him.
As Ezra descended up the stairs, his mind whirled at what the man had said. He supposed the Ezra Standish who was an outstanding member of the community would never have had the chance to meet Nathan Jackson or Alexandra Styles. Between the two of them, they had managed to change the way Ezra viewed people. Until Nathan's presence in his life, the idea that a black man could become a friend let alone and equal was unimaginable to him. Even though he never condone the cruelty to negroes in any shape or form, he certainly did not feel that they were equals. Nathan had changed all that.
If he had never met Nathan than all that he become since knowing the healer would be no more. Ezra had a feeling that the man who was in place of that person was a true figure of southern hospitality, cut in the same ilk as men like Nicholas Serfonteine and James Micawber. The idea that the progression of his so called respectable life had led him to adopt such philosphies made Ezra sick to the stomach. Nathan Jackson was his friend, a close a friend as any he had ever had. Nathan had not only saved his life more times than Ezra could count but he had done so knowing how Ezra had felt about him.
He was still engaged in these disturbing thoughts when he reached the floor where his office was supposedly situated. He walked down the corridor that smelled of fresh paint and the lacquer of the polished wood floor and found that he was in extremely good company. Passing by the doors on the way to his own, Ezra spied a doctor practice, a cadastral surveyor and even an insurance broker in the office preceding his own. Ezra could not imagine spending his days cooped up in one place, pouring over books trying to find legal loopholes which were really nothing more than another form of the con, except the mark was a jury of twelve men supposedly good and true. Ezra supposed it was not so difficult for him to excel at the vocation when anything requiring deception was involved.
Upon reaching his office, he saw his name stencilled neatly on the frosted glass of the door and voices busy at work emanating from behind it. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if the wiser thing was to just walk away right now, instead of entering and facing the real possibility of being exposed as a fraud. As it was, he had serious reservations about the kind of law he practised. Was he merely a mouth piece for extremist views on keeping the black man down in his place? Is that what being respectable was all about?
Deciding he would never know until he found out, Ezra twisted the door knob and entered the room. He found himself in an office a great deal more elaborate in furnishings and design that Mary Travis' own at the Clarion News. He saw a number of clerk sitting behind desks, doing battle with typewriters, flanking an aisle ran past their desks, culminating at a partitioned section that Ezra assumed was his own private bastion. The room had the aroma of old papers and books, the source of which he spied found one corner, where a thick volumes of law books were in residence along a wide shelf.
Light poured through the open window, illuminating the dust in the air and giving the place an atmosphere or erudite respectability. He had no sooner stepped into what passed for his waiting room, when he noticed a young black woman rising to her feet at his arrival. Before she was allowed to speak, one of the clerks obviously in his employ, hurried from behind his desk to intercept the conversation. A weedy looking young man with pocked skin approached him nervously.
"Mr Standish, this is Mrs Washington." He whispered anxiously, his eyes darting furtively to the lady and then to Ezra as if trying to convey some secret message of importance.
"Mrs Washington?" Ezra asked, naturally unfamiliar with the name, wondering why the man was keeping his voice low and doing it in such an obvious way that the woman was completely aware of it. Her brown eyes met Ezra's with nothing less than contempt and he prayed secretly that his respectable stance on racial politics had not caused this woman mischief.
Turning to the lady, he tried to continue the façade that he had some idea of who she was even though it was a mystery to him. "What can I do for you Mrs Washington."
She strode up to him, fire in her eyes, looking magnificent even though her clothes were faded and worn. She carried herself with great dignity as she approached him. Without warning, her hand flew back and struck him clear across the face. "You bastard! I hope you're happy!"
It was not by any means a blow that hurt him but it was the vehemence behind that caused the most damage. Her face glared at him with rage but underlying it was an anguish that was as plain as day for anyone who cared enough to look. Without knowing the specifics of what he had done, Ezra knew instinctively that he had wronged her greatly and mischief was a vast understatement to what crime he had committed under the veneer of respectability he used as a shield.
"Now see here," his clerk declared and took a step towards her. She held her ground, unflinching in her fear of harm coming to herself. The other clerks were rising from their seats, rallying to his defence in similar fashion.
"Stop." Ezra said firmly, gesturing with one hand that he wanted no action taken against her. Judging by the unspoken sorrow in her eyes, he guessed that she was in enough pain. A slap across the face was not exactly the worst insult anyone had ever paid him and he knew his ego would survive this. "Madam, if you could just tell me...."
"Tell you?" She laughed a cold humourless laugh, devoid of any amusement. "You got your friends off. All of them! They raped my little sister, killed my Albert when he tried to stop them and you! You let them get away with it!" Her voice started to shake as she stared him down, her eyes welling with tears that had been long restrained. Ezra saw the wall of strength shatter and the grief came tumbling down across her face.
"Mr Standish is not responsible." The clerk said behind him. "You nigras ought to know your place. You had no business buying that place next to Ray Parkinson and his kin. You asked for what happened to you."
Ezra swallowed, feeling the bile rise from his stomach as he started to understand what part he had played in this woman's tragic circumstances. No doubt, the Washington's as many others before and after them had done since the war, found themselves land owners next to white families who still believed that a Negro's place was still in the cotton fields as slave. Violence ensued as it almost always did and naturally, Mrs Washington had made some attempt to seek justice only to realise that justice to negroes in the south was a scarce thing.
"I came here today to let you know that you let an innocent man die for nothing. I guess to folk like you what's one more dead nigger." With that, she turned on her heels and left, saying nothing and eliciting silence in her departure from everyone in the room. Only after the door had slammed behind her could Ezra release a held breath. If anything had the power to tarnish the dream of this seemingly perfect existence, it was the sorrow he had seen in her eyes as she spoke her final words.
"Uppity bitch." Someone said with complete and utter derision.
Ezra tried to hide his disgust at the lack of compassion or the understanding for what the woman had been trying to say and decided it was pointless attempting to make them understand that there was no pride to be had regarding the case that had garnered him everyone's salutations. He felt the clerk pat him on the back and remark. "Don't worry about her Mr Standish," the man said, smiling at Ezra as if the compliment he was paying Ezra only served to deepen the gambler's disgust at the man he had become in this fantasy world.
Ezra said nothing and broke away, striding towards his desk, deciding that at least in there he would have a moment to decide how much more of this charade he could tolerate before he got on his horse and started riding for Four Corners.
She was rich.
She was finally secure. She was rich, rich, rich.
Although Julia Pemberton had once believed that when she was allowed to inherit her father's entire estate without the burden of having a husband to lord over her and her money, she would be deliriously happy. Often she would play out a scenario in her head where she would be transformed from restrictive heiress into a world famous traveller, using her money to take her across the globe from one adventure to another. Even though she had loved her father, she had been a different person in those days, selfish and self absorbed. Julia had believed the world to be her oyster and no one had the right to deny her what was hers, in particular her father. He had been her creature for as long as she had lived and when he had arranged her marriage with Packard, Julia had learnt for the first time how wrong she had been. Even after she had fled Philadelphia, even after she had reached Four Corners, she had often wished that if he had only died before he could arrange the marriage with Roderick Packard.
Now that it had finally happened, Julia was uncertain or not whether this was a blessing or a curse. After the initial shock had faded, following Packard's announcement of what was contained in the will, Julia had felt a certain smug satisfaction as she walked into the house, surrounded by relatives she despised for the reading of the will. She watched them treading lightly around her, uncertain of how to behave since her father's death had been so sudden and it was likely the will he left behind would favour his only child. Most of her relation, owed in some way, their income to the prosperity of Donald Avery. With his being dead, that income now remained in precarious balance and those who had reason to treat Julia with scorn, realised now the folly of their actions.
When the will was read, it was as bad as they feared. Julia had indeed been left the entire estate, all two million dollars worth of assets, from cash to stock and bonds, to real estate. She had barely paid attention to the details once she was told she had inherited everything. Julia enjoyed the expression of stark fear in the eyes of the family as they learnt that the trusts they had lived upon for so long were now to be handled at Julia's discretion in whatever manner she saw fit.
For the first few days, she had been in a bliss of power, exulting in it as she had never enjoyed anything so much in her life. She had once believed that the heights of pleasure could be reached by sexual possession of another being but there was power more potent and far more satisfying than that. She thoroughly enjoyed her intimidation of her pompous relatives who had lived viewed her with contempt all her life, hating her because she was as highly regarded to Donald as the wife they never approved of.
Although she meant them no real harm, Julia nonetheless kept them in the dark, seeing no reason to let them know that she had no intention of interfering with their incomes, because her father's holdings were still ongoing and managed by efficient accountants. However, that did not mean she could not enjoy herself at their expense for a little while. Still, the pleasure soon dwindled as a new threat began appearing on the horizon.
Roderick Packard, despite her best attempts to convey the message that she wanted little to do with him, was an insistent visitor to the house. While she tried not to be unkind because he had a manner about him that could inspire menace if properly provoked, Julia had no intention of giving him any false hopes that that she might be in the least interested in pursuing a friendship wit him. Only his death had stopped the plans her father never had a chance to bring to fruition when he had first approached Packard. Julia had no wish to fall in the same trap again.
However, Packard was not the only problem. Unfortunately, the word was out all across Philadelphia society that a very eligible heiress had suddenly come into a considerable fortune. That sort of news was enough to send every fortune hunter in the state scurrying in her direction. Very soon, Julia was becoming inundated with invitations to tea from dowagers whom had previously looked down upon her, having properly been informed of her wanton behaviour by her loving relations. Apparently the money seemed to have created a vortex of amnesia because no one seemed to remember her past reputation.
Julia knew there was only one man she wanted and as soon as she was able, she instructed detectives to find out if Ezra Standish was still in the town of Four Corners and if not, where was he? Their services had not come cheaply but fortunately, they were well worth the investment. In a matter of days after her initial inquiry, Julia Pemberton was told that Ezra Standish was indeed in Four Corners, being one of seven men charged to protect the township from the bad elements of the Territory.
Julia remembered reading the report and thinking with a faint smile that the seven men charged with maintaining law and order were the bad element. Still, knowing Ezra was in Four Corners gave the heiress a great deal of relief. The fortune hunters that were after her inheritance had come out of the woodwork with a vengeance. It did not help matters that she was an extremely woman but coupled with the fact that she was a young millionaire, the men who came courting for her hand saw this a mere bonus to the robust fortune that would become theirs to control upon the betrothal.
It was not to say that the men vying from her attentions were less than perfect. Not all of them were like Roderick Packard whose interest in Julia actually eclipsed the money she had inherited. While he would have been ecstatic, as any man might have been to acquire such a fortune, he was more interested in the family from which Julia came. Packard was known as new money to the traditionally upper classes of Philadelphian society. Such men had trouble gaining acceptance into the social circle of the elite. While Packard was liked by some and tolerated by others of this select group, he could never hope to counted as one of them.
That is unless he married well.
Despite the fact that she was considered a wanton in Philadelphia society, Julia was still an Avery and to Packard that was the vehicle in which he would ride into the company of the elite. They would accept him begrudgingly of course but tradition would demand that he be accepted, nonetheless. Thus, he was determined and resolute in his desire to win the affections of the young lady that would make his dreams come true.
Julia knew this of course and she held him at arm's length. In fact, she pushed them all away where once she would have made them tear each other apart for her amusement. Unlike Packard, not all her suitors were coarse and unrefined. Some were polished like fine stones, while others were beautiful to the point that they would be completely boring outside the bedroom. Julia had no need of such distraction and found herself thinking as they paraded themselves before her, that none had the charmer or the character of a gambler who was willing to con a bunch of marauding drunks with a card and gun with one live bullet and five blanks.
When she had discovered that Ezra was where he was in Four Corners, continuing with his life as always, with the notable exception of her acceptance, Julia found the first bright spark in her life following the fulfilment of what she once thought to be her perfect dream. Two million dollars had become a millstone around her neck from which Julia had not the strength to discard. She needed to find Ezra, to have him tell her that this was going to be a nightmare from which she would awake. Julia did not care that he would not even know her if she were to seek him out.
She had made him love her once. Julia was absolutely certain she could do it again.
Still, Packard might prove to be a problem. The reasons for his determination to marry her were also adequate reasons as far as Julia was concerned for him to pursue her. She remembered the difficulties endured by Alexandra Styles when Randall Mason had appeared in town and she had no intention of enduring a similar situation with Packard. He was rich and used to getting what he wanted in life, managing his fortune as easily as he managed the people who ran it for him. If he suspected things might not go his way, Julia had no doubt that he would resort to extreme measure to see to it that it did.
Fortunately, Julia had a plan. She always did and the intellect of Roderick Packard and the likes of him were easily circumvented because they possessed an arrogance about them that enforced the belief that the will to do a thing could make up for the lack of ability. In truth, Julia's plan had even more far reaching consequences than anyone who have guessed, should she be forced to remain in this strange reality where wishes came true in the worst possible way. It was a plan to rid herself of fortune hunters, the would be husbands and the sycophants who would do anything for her just to be thrown scraps from her table.
To be free of Packard and others of his kind, she had to married. Fortunately for Julia, she had just the perfect candidate in mind.