Several of Jennie's girls were all chattering away in the lounge at the top of the stairs and they fell silent as Nathan came in.

"Hi, ladies, Jennie around?"

"You don't have to ask for Jennie, Sheriff, any . . . or all of us can help you." The giggling and flouncing of skirts and feathers made Nathan turn pink and he held up a hand.

"Not why I'm here, ladies. I need to talk-"

"Now Sheriff are you saying we don't know how to talk?" More giggling and teasing and Nathan resigned himself to their taunts until it all ended when Jennie came from her room and, eyebrows raised, settled the girls and beckoned Nathan to follow.

"Come again, Sheriff. Don't be shy. We're here day and night you know." The chorus of teasing followed him into Jennie's private quarters and he shook his head, chuckling as she wagged a finger at him and closed the door.

"Drink, Nathan?" Jennie swished to a small stand with bottles and glasses arranged neatly.

"Uh- no. No thanks, Jennie, Not a social call . . ." He blushed again at the look on her face.

"I don't recall you ever making a social call here, Nathan." The grin remained even as she drank from her glass.

"Yeah- no. I haven't . . . uh this is serious, Jennie." He went to explain all about the mail order bride and Wellman's death and the brother with all the trouble he'd been causing and where things stood that day.

"He's likely to turn up here at some point 'cause he's set on calling Allison a- a--" Nathan waved a hand towards the lounge and made an apologetic face. "I just wanted to warn you; he can be trouble, real trouble."

Jennie set her glass down and fussed with her gown. Her look was hard but a little sad and he felt his neck for his tactless approach.

"I know what you mean, Nathan. Don't get all fumbly with me. We have our cross to bear but at least we don't hide what we are or why we do what we do. Most of those girls had no options if they wanted to have three squares a day and a place to put their head at night."

He spread his hands and started to apologize but she continued right on. "I mother all of them. I see they are healthy, well fed and clean and we even have some reading learning sessions for those that never had that chance." He looked surprised and experienced a new respect for Jennie forming.

"So, back to why you're here. You don't have to worry, Nathan. Come, I want to show you something."

He followed her back out of the room and down the hall, around the back.

"See up there," she pointed to a small balcony with a ladder behind that overlooked the lounge but couldn't be seen from there. That's my insurance. No offence¸ Nathan but I need a fast response to trouble."

He stared at the little platform with a chair on it and standing beside the chair a double-barrelled shotgun.

"What-?"

"Ruger sits there and monitors the lounge when we are busy."

"Ruger? How- when-?"

"It is a secret, Nathan and I mean secret. We have only had a few incidents that required Ruger to intercede and they were all settled without any need for the law." She touched his arm. "And before you ask, Ryan and Maggie both know. So you know how secret this is, it's to protect the girls from the likes of your Mr. Wellman."

Who the heck is Ruger? I thought I knew everybody working in town."

"You do know him, Nathan." Her face lit up and she began to chuckle. "It's Gibson, our undertaker."

"What? Gibson . . . but what is Ruger?

"What do you call Gibson? And what does his shop sign read?"

"Gibson of course!"

"Everybody calls him Gibson. His first name is Ruger and that's what he's called here so his identity stays safe."

Nathan looked back up at the platform, his mouth hanging open. He was the Sheriff! How many more secrets did the town have that he knew nothing about? "The shotgun . . .?"

"Strictly a threat. Hasn't had to use it yet."

He looked at her and tipped his head. "You know if he did I would be involved."

"Then let's hope he won't have to." Jennie leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Remember, Nathan. Secret. And I will speak to the girls about your Mr. Wellman."

"If he does show up soon, you'll see a bruise on his jaw. Won't be there long though, probably fading already."

He walked back through the clutch of giggling girls and down the stairs to the dining room. Gibson the undertaker - part time gun for hire in a bordello. Nathan shrugged, wondering if 'Ruger' ever thought of creating business from his private business for his public business while sitting on his little platform.

Maggie and Allison were standing near the registration desk with Ryan and Nathan joined them, his face a question mark.

"So what's up now?"

"How is Jennie Christie?" Maggie's query sounded a bit scornful and Nathan just closed his eyes slowly and ignored the bait.

"So . . . what's up?"

"He's in the bar and he gave poor Ryan here a very hard time about- well Allison, 'cept he doesn't know it was her staying here."

"You okay, Ryan?" Nathan looked and didn't see anything in his demeanour that suggested a problem.

"I'm fine. It's Maggie, she gets all fussed up about-"

"Ryan Marks you know very well that you let people badger you all the time and I was just-"

"Whoa! Maggie, calm down." Nathan wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "You can't manage everybody's life you know. We all love you but we can do for ourselves now and then."

There was a muttered agreement and a hug for Maggie then she pulled away and frowned at Nathan. "Well what are you going to do? He's in the saloon."

"A while ago I was supposed to be resting, now you want me to do exactly what - have a drink with him? He hasn't done anything, Maggie."

"What about Ryan, he-?"

"Ryan, have you got a complaint?" Ryan slipped a glance at Maggie and shook his head. "Okay then. You walk Allison back to work and take a breather. I'll mosey inside and see what's what."

Cincinnati

Ansen Playford shifted the woman off his lap and slapped her bottom. "Off you go, Maize, I've got business to attend to." He stood and led her to the door, a quick peck on the cheek and another pat then he closed the door and turned back to his guest.

"Next time try knocking before you barge in, Brad." Ansen poured a drink just for himself and returned to his chair. "Alright, what's so important?"

"The registry office received another package from Parkerville; it was your I.O.U."

Playford sat up. "Did they see it? Did you get to it in time?"

I wasn't there when it arrived."

The drink glass sailed across the room followed by a loud curse. Playford pounded the arms of his chair and kept swearing.

"They know now you didn't pay the money."

"I know that, you- you idiot!" He stood and paced the room, lips pulled back in a frightening grimace. "I'm not stopping now, not after all this work!"

"But your claim is useless now and they'll even do something about the lie."

"That's exactly why I'm paying you, Farnsworth- to see that they don't."

"But it's too late-"

Playford turned on his man and grabbed a handful of shirt, lifting him onto his toes. "It's too late for you, my friend, if you don't come up with something to explain to your precious registry office."

"I- I-I'll try . . . I'll do what I can but-"

"No buts, Brad. Get it done."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to Parkerville to deal with Wellman's brother. Without another claimant the land becomes mine, Brad and that means you had damn well better get things sorted at the registry here."

"When are you-?"

"As soon as I make arrangements . . . are you still here?"

Brad left the room knowing his career and maybe even his life depended on getting Playford his way.

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

Trace Banner lifted his boots up onto the seat beside Ansen and tipped his hat down over his eyes. The trip had been silent for the most part; Playford repeating oaths and threats over and over in between a few actual moments of planning. He didn't really need or even care to know the reasons. When people hired him it wasn't to negotiate or socialize.

The only thing close to a negotiation was his fee and that was either 'pay what I say or I'm on my way'. Trace enjoyed his work and he was very good at what he did so there was rarely any discussion about fees. The fact that he was travelling in a train coach and not banging up and down in a saddle, was also a bonus. He began to snore softly and let the rocking of the car send him into a sound sleep.

He would try and dream of staring down this Wellman fella; urging him to draw and then feeling the buck of his own six gun as he blew his opponent away.