Amos Howard closed his worn leather bag and stood up from beside the bed in his tiny office, weary eyes seeking those of the elderly woman sitting on the other side. His face was serious and looked almost diabolical in the flickering light of the oil lamp.

"Running out of oil, Margaret; don't leave yourself in the dark if you're stayin' here long."

"I can manage that alright, Amos. What about this young woman?"

"The injuries are superficial; I put a small dressing on them, they'll heal up okay. I also gave her something to help keep her calm. The shock of what she did might take a lot longer."

"Don't you mean what was done to her, Amos?"

"Okay, Margaret," Amos sighed defeat. "Thing is, she now needs a place to stay 'til she can move on."

"I'll talk to Ryan; we might be able to find a small room at the hotel for a short time."

"Good, good. Well, I'm going to give my report to the sheriff then get a large drink to wash down my distaste about this whole mess."

Margaret pulled the blanket up to Allison's chin and turned down the jittering light.

"Just make sure it's a report, Amos and not your opinion." She shooed the doctor out the door and returned to the bedside, her face pinching in sympathy struggling with an image of the horror the young woman experienced.

***************

Nathan Tessler's chair squeaked and he rocked it back and forth, a silly feeling of pleasure from the sound, when Doc Howard entered the office. He watched with amusement at the familiar ritual that took place before each of their conversations. The silver flask appeared from inside the coat, the top unscrewed and a short swallow followed with a loud smacking of lips.

"How's your patient, Amos?"

"Resting well enough. Margaret's with her in my office. He dropped his bag on the desk and pulled up the only other chair from beside the small stove. "She's going to see about a spot in the hotel. What are you going to do about her?"

"Might depend on your opinion, Doc."

"Report, Sheriff, report. Don't say opinion in front of Margaret." He sat forward, arms on his thighs and turned serious. "First off, she wasn't uhm- assaulted- I mean . . . you know what I mean. He's her husband so it wouldn't be called rape."

"Even if it was?"

"They're married, Nathan!"

"Not officially, Doc." The fact hung silently between them. "What about the wounds and her story about how it happened."

"Sounded perfectly reasonable. The chest scratches and the torn top, several bruises from falling and wrestling . . . his were worse."

"You could say that, since he's dead."

Amos frowned and got up, retrieving his bag. "Margaret's goin' to try and get her a room at the hotel 'til she's on her feet- shouldn't be too long."

"Thanks, Doc, I'll check on her later and see how she's doin'. Gotta speak to Harley about keeping Wellman on ice 'til I do. I want to check on his cabin tomorrow too, see if there's any money or papers havin' to do with his property and this marriage thing."

****************

Nathan saw the two men come out of the cabin and step apart. A third was walking slowly from the stable out back. He reined in about twenty feet short of the pair and leaned on his saddle horn. Their behaviour signaled quite clearly they were not ranchers.

"Howdy, boys. Mind if I ask what you're doin' in the cabin?"

"Don't see as how that's any of your business, mister."

"Well for starters it's Sheriff, not mister and it is very much my business since the owner of this ranch just died and he lived here alone. Begs the question, who are you boys and why are you here?"

The speaker stepped forward and hooked his hand on the butt of his six gun.

"I'm Corbin Wellman. Blake Wellman was my brother."

Nathan sat up in his saddle and gauged the trio's behaviour before climbing down and moving away from his horse.

"Sorry for your loss. Your brother was killed in a fight with the woman he brought out here to marry."

"Killed by a woman!" He gaped around in disbelief.

"He tried to assault her, they struggled and she stabbed him. Your brother left her in pretty bad shape."

"She's alive! Where?"

"I don't reckon you need to be thinking about that."

"I want to see her before she gets hung."

"The woman was the victim, Mr. Wellman; she killed your brother in self defence."

The man jerked forward, hand gripping his holstered gun. "That's a lie!"

Nathan set himself, eyes darting to the other men; he knew Corbin's rage would prevent any accurately directed danger from that quarter, still never assume he reminded himself.

"Blake couldn't be done by any fancy-skirted city woman!" Corbin drew his gun and waved it about menacingly.

"Better get your friend under control, boys or the Wellman family's gonna get smaller." Nathan stared at the two men until they grabbed Corbin and settled him down. "Now I suggest you all mount up and leave the ranch. When the investigation is complete and all the paperwork is done the county will get in touch."

Corbin climbed on to his horse and pulled around, straining to keep it from its nervous stepping and cursed Nathan.

"I don't need no investigation to tell me what happened. You best hide that woman, Sheriff because I'm gonna see she gets what she deserves."

"Just calm yourself down and ride outta here, Mr. Wellman."

The two friends called to him and urged him to do just that and after a little more posturing, the trio galloped off away from the ranch.

Nathan blew out a breath, watched them for a bit then went into the cabin. First thing he noticed were the blood streaks on the floor beside the bed and on the dirty blanket; the thought of Allison Bleeker's struggle made him cringe inside. There was no sign the three men had disturbed anything any more than it was and he went to the small dresser and began poking through the drawers.

There were odds and ends of old tools, a few half filled cartridge boxes and an old, creased reward poster naming one Ichabod 'Ike" Wellman wanted for rustling. The bottom drawer held a few pairs of long johns and a couple of blankets under which he discovered an envelope containing a sheaf of papers.

Spread out on the table, Blake Wellman's documents presented a pretty lean life. Receipts for feed bills and other supplies, about eighteen dollars, a handwritten letter stating the ranch had been left to him by his uncle, the notorious Ichabod and another letter to an agency back east describing the business of marital arrangements. Nathan just packed it all up and took it with him, deciding to study it all back in town.

He took a ride around to the stables to make sure the stock had been rounded up and moved to another ranch for care. With nothing else of interest in the cabin or the stable or anywhere else on the property, he rode cautiously back to town.

***************

Ryan Marks looked up from his ledger as Nathan entered the hotel office, and placed the quill back in the ornate inkstand centering the front of his desk. With a self important adjustment of his sleeve garters he placed his palms on the desk and expressed his displeasure

"Sheriff. You here about my guest? This is most inconvenient."

"I am and don't fret, Ryan, the town'll compensate you for your benevolence."

"If that means for givin' up possible income then good on the town."

"Is she here already? Can I see her?"

"Margaret's with her right now. Room at the end of the hall." Ryan waved a hand modifying his directions. Nathan knew that Ryan had been bulldogged by Maggie into providing a room and he smothered his grin as the young man huffed and puffed.

Margaret greeted him and placed a finger over her lips for quiet; Allison's eyes were closed and he was struck by the calm beauty in her sleeping face. In the dim light a shadow was cast across half of her face creating the suggestion it was broken and he moved closer, bending down.

"Nathan?" Margaret shuffled behind him.

"I thought the shadow was a bad bruise on her face."

"She does have a sore head on one side where he hit her. Poor dear had a devil of a time relaxing. Amos poked and prodded like he was testing a steak for doneness. I swear that man must have found that doctor paper hanging in his office and he changed his name to match."

Nathan grinned at her fierce expression, knowing she was really rather enamoured of the doctor.

"Did you hear anything she said about what happened?"

"The whole disgusting story, Nathan. You realize after travelling all this way to meet a strange man destined to be her husband and on the first day this happens? On top of that the poor thing had to get the horse from the stable, hook it up to the wagon and drive herself all the way to town in her condition."

"Yeah, how did she manage that anyway? She a rider?"

"She didn't get it right but it held together long enough to do the job. Grit, that's what."

Nathan stood looking at the woman for a while, taking in the brown shaded blonde hair brushed back off the visible part of her smooth face. A pair of tiny creases marred the surface between her brows suggesting even in sleep she was troubled.

"I can call you when she wakes up, Nathan but right now she needs this sleep."

"Right. Thanks Maggie, I'll be in my office or close by somewhere." He patted her shoulder and left the room, Allison's face floating in his mind. Back at his desk he went through the envelope from the cabin a little more thoroughly. The receipts indicated Blake Wellman owed close to sixty dollars to three different businesses in town. Ledger's General Store, the smithy and the saloon.

The deed to the property was stuck to a short, hand-written copy of the uncle's will, naming Blake as the only heir. Nathan wondered if the uncle didn't have much use for Corbin. The newest document consisted of three pages containing all the correspondence regarding the mail order bride deal. Blake had posted a notice in an eastern paper and an agency had answered. There was half a page of glowing reports about their ability to match couples and how they prepared all the contract paperwork and made all travel arrangements.

Nathan's eyebrows rose when he read that their service, everything included, totaled two hundred and sixty-three dollars, payable in advance. Obviously Blake had paid but Nathan wondered where the money came from when he couldn't pay his bills in town. Maybe that was why, he thought.

The last piece of paper was folded tightly and when he pried it open he discovered an I.O.U. for three thousand dollars owed by an Ansen Playford dated several months earlier.