The saloon was quite rowdy in the small cow town, as a trim young man stood at the bar his back held to the wall while he chatted with a surly looking blond gunman with the fine cut mustache. The gunman was one that no one wanted to mess with, tonight was no exception as he was particularly drunk, and in no mood to be disturbed by anyone let alone the salon girl that came up behind him sliding her arm down his chest seductively. The young man standing with him watched his friend, for a moment before trying to catch the woman's eye and shooing her off. There was no doubt the woman misunderstood as she reached over to the boy, who reacted quicker than a rattlesnake in deflecting the woman's probing hand.

"I said you best git, fore you get some where I reckon you don wanna be," the gunslingers friend said casually, a hint of a threat lingering in the air.

Doc smiled at his drink knowing that Cole could handle himself in any ring, and often thought about the outcome should the two of them get into it one day. When the woman had finally filtered away into the crowd, Doc looked up at Cole, his eyes a hard steel gray as he looked around the saloon ignoring the shot of whiskey that sat untouched in his hand on the bar. Doc cracked a soupy smile at Cole. "You don't like this much, do you?"

Cole just calmly shook his head, his dark brown hair hidden under the dark brown Stetson that almost matched in color. "I'm gon git some air," Cole turned his attention to his friend, "You stay out a trouble in here, Doc," the question hung in the air as he downed the shot quickly and winded his way out of the small establishment. Doc Scurlock just watched his friend go knowing that the man disliked the crowds, but still he wondered if he could take him, smiling and shaking his head he turned back to his drink.

Cole stared up at the night sky as a gentle breeze wafted through the town, in the distant stables he could hear the sound of horses calling to some others. Cole approached the bay horse tethered in front of the saloon, his white face reflecting in the full moon light. He checked the horses thick boned legs and his strong hooves, there was no doubt that Lucky had been a range bred horse and lived the hard life of a mustang. Sliding his hand over the horses rump Cole took note of the hard muscles that were stored beneath that white splash of color and the bay spots that showed through, it. Cole leaned against his arm as it rested on the horse, who stood there as if knowing he wasn't supposed to move. He stared up at the moon.

"Come on Kass, it's not like you ain't don it fore," came a taunting voice. Kass looked up at the young boy as he stood staring down at her with his toothy smile, while his friends stood behind him laughing. She knew the group. Knew what they wanted. Standing her ground she watched her foster brother keeping a mental note on where his friends were.

"Come on Kassie, I seen ya do it. With that half breed."

There was no warning as Kassie threw a fist at the boy knocking him square on the jaw, the boy hit the ground hard, and looked up at her. His friends suddenly quiet and sullen. She knew when she got home there would be hell to pay, but she didn't care. She wasn't going to take it.

What was called home never related to her as a sanctuary. The small plantation held fifteen slaves on it, she knew for a fact that some of them had been taken across the borders from the northern states. Kidnapped as they traveled. Deemed a loss to the Indians. One of them was a boy that kept the stable up. Half Seminole Indian, and half African, taken from his home. The boy couldn't speak but Kassie had liked him, she would spend hours talking and helping him in the barn. Jim Creed was the man who had taken her in when no one else would, a distant friend of the family is what he called himself. He ruled over Kassie with an iron fist and hard rules. Rules that seemed to change with a whim. She often felt no better than the field slaves, as she watched Jim rule over them in the same manner. When he walked into the stable that afternoon, there was no doubt in Kassies mind that Jim had been told what happened down by the river. She looked up at the domineering man, his dark eyes seemed to fall on her like lead weights. "You - Out," he demanded of the half breed.

The boy obediently left looking back at Kassie quickly before disappearing, she knew she was small and insignificant looking under the man that hovered over her, like a storm cloud. Kassie felt fear.

"Cole... Cole," Cole snapped out of his gaze at the moon which had drifted higher into the night sky, he looked back at the voice it was Doc, "Mind tell in me what ya find so interestin up there?"

Cole shook his head to ward of Doc's question. Standing up he turned to face the man. "Headin out?"

Doc nodded as he untethered his buckskin, the mount seemed tired from the long ride they had been on from New Mexico. It was easy telling that she had been raised on the ranch that Doc ran with his wife and daughters. The same people he was intent on escaping. Cole took Luckys' reins and turned him to mount up. Swinging effortlessly into the saddle, Cole sat up straight and tall, before bringing his mount around.

"Scurlock!"

The sudden sound of the voice yelling Doc's name elicited the swift swing out of Cole's right arm, with it the glint of light coming off of the barrel of the Frontier Colt .45 the double action Colt held on the man that stood in the doorway of the saloon. His eyes wide as he stared at the seven and a half inch barrel. Doc smiled as he looked at the man.

"And what may I do for you," Doc asked casually as he finished mounting his horse.

The man stammered as he stood there wanting to call Doc a cheat and get his money back, but there was no getting past the gun that held him at bay. Doc just grinned and shook his head. "I don't think I like you, tell you what I'll give you a chance," the man nodded at Doc ready to hear how he was going to get out of the mess he was in. "You turn around and go back in my... Friend here won't put a bullet in you."

There seemed to be no contest as the man turned to go, Cole kept his gun trained on the man not wanting to be caught off guard. He wasn't disappointed. The man turned quickly drawing his gun rolling with his back to Cole, to shoot Scurlock. A fatal mistake. Before the man even managed to swing his beefy arm out across his chest Cole released one round go, which slammed into the base of the mans skull, causing his head to lull back awkwardly. Lucky sidled a little ready for the run that he knew would be coming. Doc grinned at the shot before wheeling his tired mount out of town, the buckskin moving as fast as it could. Cole watched the man as he teetered there as if stuck in time, before tumbling to the ground. The thud causing Cole to urge the bay into a gallop out of town.

They rode hard for miles before they decided to chance it and give the horses some rest, Doc knew his mare couldn't run much farther with out breaking her down. The posse they figured was after them, caused them to find shelter in the canyon. As they traveled it, Doc spotted a small out cropping of rocks. The boulders seemed to offer some shelter from the canyon winds, Cole urged Lucky toward them and smiled when he noticed that nestled behind the boulders was a shallow cave. He motioned for Doc to head in and was relieved. Now they could rest. It wasn't long before Doc had hobbled his mare and settled into his blankets for the night. While Cole methodically checked his bay over, he knew that the horse was fine. Still he hated to leave anything to chance. It Cole took the time to select the firewood they would burn to keep warm that night, being careful to pick the driest pieces. Before building a small fire, and settling down next to it and watching the flames. They danced before him.

Scott Cooley was a respected Texas Ranger, and good with a gun. His thick black bushy mustache making him look older than his eighteen years. Kass smiled as she watched him twirl the Colt .45 with the nickel finish. She had been following him around for days. She enjoyed watching the brown eyed Ranger. Enjoyed his stories. There wasn't much to the man. He was loyal as a dog, and stubborn as a mule. Two parts of the whole that made Kass look up to him.

"All right now, keep your holster here on your waist," the man coached as he showed Kass how to carry her gun.

She managed to knock the row of five cans off the fence rail with the first shots making Cooley quite proud of his teachings. She had only lived in Mason county for a year before the two had become good friends. The war had broken out which only spiked her want to learn more about guns and shooting. The south needed more soldiers. Kass didn't know if she believed in what the south stood for but it was her home. And she wasn't gonna loose that. In the winter of eighteen hundred and sixty- three Kass finally decided it was time to move on. She sat in the stagecoach ready to head to the next big adventure on her list. Kass hadn't seen the man she had spent so much time with over the past two days. Still she looked for him. She watched his favorite leaning post over by the jail, but he wasn't there.

"Kass," a quiet sincere tone came from behind her, causing the small woman to jump.

Kass smiled as she turned to look back at the man, who grinned in spite of himself, she grinned back at him. Her face lighting up, as she watched him. He raised a small package that was made out of a gunny sack, and wrapped with twine. She looked at him curiously.

"What's this fer?"

Scott smiled, "You might need it along the way," was all he said before giving her a quick peck on the cheek and faded off behind the stage out of sight.

She watched the place where he disappeared and was surprised by the sudden lurch forward of the stagecoach as it took her farther west in the big state of Texas. The ride wore on and she just held the package on her lap. He small long thin fingers playing with the twine.

Cole felt a sharp nudge in his rib cage, which instantly brought his arm up under the blanket. His Frontier Colt held on the source of the kick. Looking up he could see it was just Doc, as he raised his hands to ward off a bullet from his dear friend. Recognizing the angular face of Doc, Cole lowered his gun and tossed off the blanket. The cool morning chill causing him to wake up quickly. Doc offered Cole some of his fresh coffee, which Cole casually declined.

"Best git movin," looking up at the sky there was a buzzard that flew high overhead. Cole packed up his stuff, glancing up periodically at the buzzard watching where it was honing in on.

"Where we going," Cole added as an after thought.

Doc looked at the small man, and then up at the horizon, "That way. Figure its as good a place as any."

Cole shook his head and grinned as he saddled his mount and packed him. The buckskin having finally caught her needed rest. It wasn't long before they were mounted up and riding west. There was little to pay attention to the posse seemed to have never been or were all just to damn drunk to care at the time, Cole thought with amusement. It didn't matter anyhow.

The rides had been hard, especially on the pasture bred horses in the ranks. Horses that weren't adapted to the hard marches and rough terrain. All the soldiers wished that the war would end. The gray uniforms, no longer their brilliant color they once were. The riders slouched in aboard their mounts, hungry. Out of rations, and low on ammunition. Sergeant Jenson tried to ride tall. Tried to be the crutch he knew that his squad needed. Their horses ate better than they did. Still the whole mess of them were a sorry sight. Jenson looked back at the man directly kitty corner to him. The man was a hard man, someone that Jenson himself never wanted to cross. Hardin had a hard time dealing with their loosing battle. He knew that what he was doing was right. Or at least he believed it, Jenson thought calmly turning back to face front.

On several occasions the two had gotten into arguments, on who was a target and who wasn't. Jenson had even watched the man kill three slaves as they stood before him, scared. One a small boy. Quickly he tried to shake the sight out of his head and concentrate on the world in front of him. Some where in the distance was gonna come a truce, and the south would be left alone. There had to be. If there wasn't. . . Jenson shook his head at the thought not wanting to think about what could happen to the men in his squad.

Appomattox, came and went swiftly. Some of the southern soldiers fleeing to Mexico to escape persecution by the new government. While Jenson, headed west. He still needed to see more of the country side. He enjoyed Hardins company, and often smiled at the thought of this clean cut man being the son of a preacher. John was a rough and tumble man that would draw fast and never warn you. It took Jenson by surprise one day, while they were staying over in a small Texas town. He watched as John drank, there was no dealing with this man when he was drunk. . . or sober. Still Jenson stood at the bar and drank with him.

There was a dark shadow that fell into the saloon from the door, as a man entered. He was black man,that had a huge hulking figure that seemed to take up the entire doorway. Hardin turned to the shadow, and in an instant drew his gun, Jenson pushed Hardins arm away deflecting the shot as it rang out rushing itself into the wood next to the ex-slave. The man only flinched as the bullet tore into the door jamb, and stared at the man that had shot the bullet.

Cole snapped his head around when he heard the noise, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He glared at Doc when he realized that the buckskin had slipped on the rock. "Shoud trade tha mare in," Cole stated to the gunman casually.

Doc only nodded at the comment knowing that the horse wasn't made for this type of punishment. "I'll trade her when we get to Four Corners."

Cole looked back at the rider, "Four What?"

There was a slight smile on the gunman's face as he heard Cole's question, "Corners. Small Cow Town up a head a few more miles. Can increase our pocket change while we're there."