Just as Molly remembered, Four Corners was dusty and dry. As she rode down the street she glanced at the Clarion office, no longer Stephen’s, but hopefully still Mary’s. The last she had heard Mary was still here. Please let her still be here. But Mary could wait. Saloon first, then Nathan--Molly’s vision was blurred, but not her priorities.

Dismounting carefully, Molly entered the saloon and stepped to the right, just inside the batwing doors. It was a custom born of necessity, it allowed her eyes time to adjust to the dim interior, while avoiding being silhouetted in the doorway. In her line of work, saloons were exceedingly dangerous places.

When her gaze met Vin Tanner’s, it stopped long enough for them both to be certain of what they saw. Molly sighed...Wrong place, wrong time, Vin. The man sharing his table gave her pause, he had gunman written all over him. He seemed friendly enough with Vin, however, and Molly trusted Vin’s judgement more than she did that of most people. Satisfied she would likely live to reach her drink, she headed to the bar. The bartender was an old friend. Dan even held a bottle in reserve for Molly’s infrequent visits.

Chris Larabee looked up from his drink as the woman entered the saloon. What the hell... She bristled with weaponry and was dressed much as he was—men’s clothing, and most of it black. She carried a Winchester in her hand, a coach gun peeked out of a scabbard on her back, a wicked knife graced her left hip, and a revolver her right. A braid of brown hair bordered the scabbard, but the only true indications of her gender were her face and the barely visible curves beneath her rough clothing. Chris glanced at his drinking partner and caught Vin’s expression.

"You know her?"

Vin smiled slowly. "Used to. Molly Thompson."

"’Mostly Dead’ Thompson?" Chris looked surprised. "I didn’t think those stories were true."

"True enough."

"A woman bounty hunter...." Chris watched as Molly crossed the room, heading for the bar. "You don’t seem too worried."

"Molly’s not after me," Vin said softly.

"You sure ‘bout that?" Chris gave her arsenal another scrutiny.

"Yep. Molly is kinda choosy about who she hunts. I’m not her type."

"Glad to hear it." Chris refilled their glasses, his eyes staying on the woman. So why is she here?

"Dan." Molly motioned the barkeep over, forestalling any greeting with a raised hand. "I’ve heard about some hired guns watching over the town these days—would Vin Tanner be one of them?"

The bartender looked towards Vin. "He would be. That fella with him, too. That’s Chris Larabee."

Chris Larabee...it gets better and better.... "How many guns altogether?"

"Seven. Them two, Nathan Jackson, and some boys you likely wouldn’t know."

"Seven? And Nathan’s one of them?" Molly started to hope, for the first time in months. She gingerly touched her head, wondering if there was still blood visible on her face, or it the dust masked it. She needed to get to Nathan. "Thanks, Dan." She turned to leave, but felt her legs buckle as blackness engulfed her.

Vin and Chris both rushed to the fallen woman’s side, quickly checking for injuries. It was Vin who found the wound on the left side of her brow, but her blood-matted hair made it impossible to tell how serious it was.

"Let’s get her to Nathan." Scooping the injured woman up in his arms, Larabee stood and carried her from the saloon. Vin followed, bringing her hat and rifle and noticing, for the first time, the blood on both. They crossed the street and mounted the stairs to Nathan Jackson’s clinic.

Jackson was the closest thing Four Corners had to a physician. He received his medical training, such as it was, while serving as a stretcher-bearer during the War Between the States. Nathan's ability to heal was bolstered by both natural talent and keen intellect. The former slave had another calling as well, for Nathan was, as the bartender had said, one of Four Corners resident gunmen.

Nathan greeted them at the door. "What happened?" He was already assessing Molly’s condition as Chris laid her on the bed.

"She’s hurt," Vin said simply.

Taking note of the blood at her temple, Nathan began carefully probing around the edges of an ugly wound. "Bullet did this." He glanced at Vin and Chris, adding hastily, "It don’t look too bad—just a graze."

Chris stared down at the woman as Nathan continued his inspection. "Recent?"

Realizing what Chris meant, Nathan replied, "Yeah. No more’n a day at most." He began to clean and dress the wound. Should heal clean.

Before he could be asked, Vin stood and headed for the door. Never hurts to keep a lookout. Whoever done this might think she’s dead, then again, might not. Best to be safe.

Chris continued to watch Nathan work, Vin’s departure barely registering in his mind. This was going to be trouble, and it felt like it was going to be big trouble. He wished to hell he knew what had brought her here.

Finished his examination, Nathan looked over at Chris. "She’s gonna be OK, other than her head wound, there’s just some cuts and bruises. And Molly’s got a thick skull."

Nathan grinned.

Eyes widening at the mention of Molly’s name, Chris regarded the healer. "You know her?" He was beginning to wonder if he was the only one in town who didn’t know Molly Thompson.

Surprise showed on Nathan's face. "You do know who this is, don't you? Chris, she’s Molly Travis--the Judge's daughter."

Chris stared dumbfounded. "Vin called her Thompson."

"That’s the name she uses to keep folks from knowin' 'bout the Judge. She don’t want him hurt by what she does. 'Round here, she’s Molly Travis." Nathan glanced down at the still form. "But she don't come 'round much lately. Not since her brother was killed. Last time was a few weeks after the funeral."

Chris pursed his lips, trying to decide how worried he should be at her arrival. "I’ll get Mary, and until we know why she’s here, and how that," he gestured at the completed bandage, "happened, I’m posting a guard. I don’t like this."

Nathan watched his friend leave. Chris Larabee had an uncanny knack of sensing storms on the horizon, and he looked like he could feel one now. Nathan rose and began to inventory his medical supplies.

Voices. She heard voices. Molly tried to comprehend what she was hearing. "Judge Travis..." "Vin is..." "...knows her." She fought her way to consciousness, wary of the unknown voices surrounding her. Her eyes finally opened to see Nathan bending over her, concern on his face.

"She’s awake." Nathan sighed with relief. Head wounds always made him uneasy.

"Nathan." Molly looked beyond her friend, to the two men staring down at her from the foot of the bed. She recognized Chris Larabee from the saloon, but the other….

"Molly, just rest now. You’re gonna be fine. The bullet just grazed you, that’s all." The smile on Nathan’s face was all the reassurance she required. Nathan didn’t sweeten the truth for his patients--if he said she’d be fine, she’d be fine.

"Good to hear." Her voice sounded far away. Her head hurt abominably, but if she focused hard enough, she could get beyond the pain. "You’re Chris Larabee." It wasn’t a question.

Nodding slowly, the black-clad gunman stared down at her, his face devoid of expression..

"Buck Wilmington, ma’am." Buck spoke up as her gaze shifted to him.

"Mary?" Molly turned back to Nathan. "Is Mary still in town?"

"She’s been with you most the day," he reassured her. "I sent her to get somethin’ to eat. No sense both you being ill."

"Most of the day? How long was I out?"

"Since this mornin’, ‘bout ten hours or so." Nathan informed her.

She looked around for her clothes, belatedly realizing that she was wearing a nightgown, undoubtedly one of Mary’s. "I need to leave. I never should have come here--it was a mistake."

"And why is that?" Larabee asked. His tone was casual, but his eyes were hard and challenging.

"Not your concern." Molly met his gaze unflinchingly.

Chris nodded, he knew when to strategically withdraw. Molly Travis had her reasons, but they were her reasons, and not subject to public examination. When, and if, she were ready, she would tell them what had led her here.

"Vin’s out looking for whoever it was that shot you." Chris volunteered.

"Good for Vin. He’ll have found him by now. Dead."

"You always this agreeable?" Chris was starting to become irritated.

"Usually less so. Must be the wound." Molly gingerly touched the bandage around her head. "Nathan, you’re an angel. I don’t know what I’d have done without you."

An uneasy smile crossed Nathan Jackson’s face. Molly was in some kind of trouble, that much was clear. She didn’t want to ask for help, that much was even clearer. She needed help, that was clearest of all.

"Ma’am, forgive my surprise, but I didn’t know Judge Travis had a daughter." Buck was trying to reconcile the woman before him with the somewhat stuffy, dignified Judge.

"I suspect he doesn’t advertise the fact." Molly smiled ruefully. "Somehow I doubt he’d acknowledge me, unless pressed."

"Just why is that?" Buck ignored both Chris’ and Nathan’s warning glances.

"You always this nosy?" Molly mimicked Chris’ irritated tone.

"Sorry. Just trying to figure out why someone would try to kill you. Any ideas on who’d want you dead?" Buck looked at Chris briefly, but couldn’t read his friends expression.

"No idea at all. I do know that this man is the third to try in the last four months.

Whoever is paying the bills really wants me dead. That’s why I need to leave. Mary is in danger..."

Chris cut her off. "We’ll protect Mary. Stay as long as you need...or want."

Molly looked closely at the man. Larabee seemed emotionless, except for his eyes--his eyes held the kind of pain that could only be lessened, never erased. She saw something of herself in those eyes, and it wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

Chris sent Buck to locate Ezra and Josiah, and to post both to stand guard over Mary and Billy. He turned at the sound of cursing. "What is it?"

"I didn’t think Billy was here. He’d been staying with the Judge. If anything happens to that boy because of me..." Molly’s eyes closed in anger. "I’m leaving in the morning."

"If that’s what you want. But you’d be better off staying." Chris’ face grew thoughtful. "Can you tell me why you’re so sure these men all were hired by the same person? I’d imagine you’ve collected your share of enemies by now."

"I don’t suppose my saddlebags are around here somewhere?" Nathan handed them over. Molly removed a small cloth bag from inside and emptied the contents onto the blanket covering her legs. "Because of these."

Chris paled. After a long moment he raised his eyes to meet Molly’s--searching for something--he didn’t know what. Answers, maybe. He turned and left the clinic.

Molly watched him go. She scooped up the bag’s contents--four silver coins, each stamped with the same design --and clenched them in her fist. Larabee’s reaction had scared the hell out of her. He was involved somehow, and that could be fatal. She didn’t know Chris Larabee, but she knew she didn’t want to kill him, or to be killed by him. She reached for her pants...

"Whoa, Molly. You ain’t goin’ nowhere. Leastways, not tonight. I’ll tie you down if I have to," Nathan warned. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but it wasn’t good. Chris only got that look about him when his private hell was brought to the surface, and Molly never looked that scared. His earlier fears were coming true, a storm was gathering.

Lying back against the pillow, Molly realized she wasn’t fit to travel yet, at least not any great distance. She’d been riding hard for days, with little food or water. It was exhaustion, more than the injury, that was laying her up. Molly changed her tack. "Alright. I’m staying the night. Now, where’s my gun?" She smiled sweetly up at Nathan.