Allison looked up and smiled as Nathan entered the store, removing his hat. "You don't have to take your hat off, Sheriff, unless you want to buy a new one." Amusement covered her face as she watched him fiddle and finally put it back on.

"I just wanted to drop by and see if things are okay . . . Maggie can be a handful sometimes."

"Things are fine. She is such a sweet lady; you'd think she was my mother." She patted the pile of linens she was straightening and brushed her hand over her skirt.

"A common feeling with folks around here." He gave a small wave to Ledger, who came out from the back to see who had come in. "Hi, Edward, your new helper workin' out okay?"

"You'd be first to hear if she wasn't. It was your idea." He disappeared into the rear of the store again.

Nathan laughed and turned back to Allison. "Looks like it's my safety in your hands."

"That might be a nice change," she murmured, straightening some of the linen goods again and keeping her eyes down.

"Huh? Pardon?"

"Nothing . . . are you delivering mail now?" She dodged his query and pointed the envelope in his hand.

"Uh, this- nope. Came to me from Cincinnati." Allison froze, her eyes locked on the item. "It's about Wellman's property. I suppose you had lunch already."

" . . . No, Mr. Ledger said if I worked through my lunch I could leave early." She glanced at the pendulum clock on the wall. "I've got a lot of uh- sorting of clothes and bed things that need laundering at home-- in my room."

He bobbed his head and slapped the envelope against his leg. "So, uh- when are you through?"

"Not for another hour or so . . ."

A few more slaps. "Okay then maybe could I call on you this evening?"

"Well I sup-"

"I'd really like to talk to you about this." He gestured with the envelope. "I have some questions."

"-pose so . . . questions?"

"Great, I'll call tonight then - around seven?"

Allison just blinked an uncertain assent and Nathan tipped his hat and left.

He was envisioning another evening with Allison, even if part of it would be business - at least he hoped only part of it would be. When he heard his name he stopped a turned around to see the young woman hurrying toward him.

"Wren, what are you doing out in the daytime?" His grin faded when she she stopped and gasped a few breaths.

"Jennie sent me to tell you that two men came to the lounge and started asking questions about Corbin Wellman. She also said she recognized one of them, a Trace Banner. She saw him in Abilene a few years ago. She said he's a hired gunman."

"What about the other man- the one in the suit."

"How did you kn-"

"I saw them in the saloon."

"I don't know, she didn't say but he was the one askin' all the questions."

"Thanks, Wren and thank Jennie for me too. It's good information to know."

**********

Ansen and Trace loped along side by side, giving their horses their head. Ansen was laying out how he was going to approach Wellman if he was at the cabin and what he wanted the final outcome to be. Neither noticed the lone rider way back behind them.

"Should have come here first, don't know why I thought he'd stay in town when he had a place out here."

"Doesn't look like much of a spot to want to stay to me," Trace said, as the structures came into view.

"Yeah, well it isn't the cabin I care about, it's this property."

They pulled up in front of the cabin and Ansen climbed down, spending a few moments studying the dismal surroundings.

"Go see what's in the stable." He walked toward the cabin door and waited. Trace returned with news of the reasonably fresh grave and a marker that read Jethro, murdered by Corbin Wellman.

He considered that a moment; hoping there wasn't someone else interested in the land. "I doubt Wellman would write that; seems like someone else might be interested." Trace climbed down and moved cautiously to one side, toward the door.

"Wellman!" Ansen called. "Wellman, you in there?" He waited a moment then looked at Trace.

"Don't think he's home," He flattened himself next to the door.

"Check inside." Ansen held his breath as he watched his man shove the door open and move quickly inside.

"Nobody home, Playford."

Ansen went in and they both poked around the meagre belongings, noticing the blood stains and finding nothing of interest, went back outside. The man standing by their horses with the rifle brought them both up short; they had heard nothing of his arrival.

"What do you want in there?" Corbin snarled. Trace began a slow slide to his left. "You just stay right there, mister. "Now what are you doin' here?"

"You Corbin Wellman?" Ansen asked.

"Who are you?"

Ansen relaxed slightly and slipped his fingers into his vest pockets. He glanced briefly at Trace then gave Corbin a mirthless smile.

"I'm the new owner."

Corbin stared, his mind whirling. He was never told about any new owner! He was the owner; it was his brother's place. He bellowed as much aloud, waving the rifle threateningly.

"I'd be careful waving that rifle around, Mr. Wellman." Ansen shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Trace.

"Get of this property now or I'll do more than just wave it around. For your information I am the owner and that'll be confirmed soon as the land registry sends their report."

Ansen walked to his horse and slowly climbed into the saddle. He looked down at Corbin and said, he didn't think so, before pulling his horse around and trotting off. Corbin watched him ride away then spun back to the other man. Too late. Trace had his gun out and the hammer cocked.

"I'll drop the rifle, mister."

"Go ahead, I don't care. Rather you tried to use it though."

Corbin began calculating if he could swing it up and get a shot off and while he was thinking, Trace shot him twice through the heart.

Ansen rode back and studied the body. "Let's put him on his horse and take him back. Sooner they see he's dead I'll get the land and I'll burn these sheds to the ground."

"What are you going to say happened?" Trace asked, loading Corbin over his saddle and tying him down.

Ansen climbed down, picked up the rifle and fired several shots. "He fired on us when we rode up." He shoved the rifle in the scabbard then got back on his horse. "That was a whole lot easier than I expected."

"Price is still the same," Trace remarked, leading Corbin's horse behind his.

**********

Nathan tied his tie, then he tied it again. Then he undid it and just left it tucked in. He wet his hair and brushed with his fingers, stepped back and looked in his little mirror at what he hoped other people saw. Grabbing his hat and the envelope and the small bouquet Maggie had supplied he stopped, looking at his gun belt. Did he want to wear that on a- a- visit? He was the Sheriff, he supposed it was logical.

When he stepped outside he stopped again. The two strangers from the saloon were tying their horses to the jail hitching rail and the body of Corbin Wellman was dangling over his beside them. Nathan opened the door and tossed the bouquet and the envelope on his desk then shut the door and greeted the men.

"Something you boys want to tell me?" He stepped down and took a look at Corbin's face.

"We went out to see him at his ranch and he came out threatening us and when we tried to talk to him he started shooting."

"He isn't wearing a gun."

"His rifle. It's in the scabbard."

Nathan took a closer look at Corbin and took out the rifle, ejecting three shells. He picked them up and cradled the gun in his arm.

"How many shots he fire?"

Ansen made a face. "I don't know. Several."

"That right?" Nathan asked the other man.

"Sounds about."

"And he missed with all of them but took two in the chest."

"He was acting crazy, I told you. Probably drunk." Ansen snapped.

"And who are you?"

"Ansen Playford, I expect to be the new owner of that property."

Ansen Playford! Nathan fought to keep the surprise from his face and turned his attention to the other man.

"And you?"

"Friend of Mister Playford, Trace Banner."

"I'll need you boys to come inside and fill out a report about this and get Mr. Wellman to the undertaker."

Ansen waved a hand. "I've got some other business to take care of. You can fill out your own report and I'll look it over later."

"I don't think so, Mister Playford. Your other business can wait."

"The man said he had other business." Trace stepped away from the rail and faced Nathan.