"Who goes there?"

The sound of at least nine hammers cocking back sent Cade's hands into the air. Stopping his horse just outside the campfire's glow, he answered "Cade Sinclair," while squinting past the flickering flames, unable to see anything more than ominous shadows.

A small part of him wished the sound of his name would set off a blaze of gunfire that would put him out of the misery his life had become. But a bigger portion, that had once been touched by an angel, urged him not to give up.

"Come into the light."

He did as he was told, nudging his horse forward with his knees. He hoped this was where he could stop running. Running from his past, and running from his thoughts. That he'd be accepted into this gathering. He would know within the next few minutes.

A tall man stood on the other side of the fire, his hat obscuring his face. But Cade could make out the weapon pointing at him, an exact replica of his own. This, then, must be the leader of The Brotherhood of the Damned, the group for whom he sought admittance.

A murmur of unease rumbled through the shapes huddled around the fire like so many birds of prey, their guns not wavering from their target. Him. Words manifested from the whispers.

"How did he find us?"

"If he found us, so could others."

"I say we kill him, just to be sure."

"Enough."

That word, rapped out like the slam of a door, silenced the growing sounds of discontent. Cade shot his gaze to the man standing within the light from the fire's flames. If he was the leader, he was the only one Cade needed to convince that he was worthy of becoming one of the Damned.

"How did you find us?" The speaker, although indistinct through the hazy smoke of the fire, seemed familiar to Cade. He'd remember; he always did. He had a good memory for faces. But he needed to reply to the question before he became Swiss cheese.

"I tracked you."

"Impossible." Another voice snapped from the circle of the Brotherhood. Cade sat back in his saddle, pushed his hat off his forehead with a forefinger. He smiled, though he felt no humor.

"Not for me. It's what I do best: tracking. That, and killing." He frowned now, stared at the leader, who also shifted his hat back, revealing his identity. Cade couldn't contain the gasp that escaped his throat when recognition bloomed. For the first time in a long while, he worried about his mortality.

"You're Sonny McQuade, the Fastest Gun in the West," he breathed, while a ripple of amusement spread through the listeners. The man across from Cade, a legend in his own lifetime, which was less than thirty years, bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"I see my reputation precedes me. These are my brothers—and sisters—of the Damned." He half-turned toward the circle of watchers, waving the hand without the gun at each in turn. "This is Colton Lassiter, Doc, Sal, the Undertaker, Lazarus, Phineus, Ricardo, and Mustard." He faced Cade once more. "I imagine you fancy yourself an equal to the rest of us."

Snorts of disbelief brought the rise of heat to Cade's cheeks. If only they knew his torment, they wouldn't dismiss him so readily. He opened his mouth to set them straight, but McQuade wasn't finished.

"Why do you think you belong here? What have you done that places you with gunfighters, marauders, and thieves?"

The silence following McQuade's question was absolute. A piece of wood broke apart in the fire, sending sparks up to light the darkness. But they didn't reach the black in Cade's soul.

He leveled his gaze on Sonny McQuade, let it travel around the crouching outcasts. He felt the razor-sharp edge of their attention. And took a deep breath.

"I killed my wife to save myself."

A long silence met his damning declaration, followed by a terse, "Fie. Definitely kill him, now." It came from the one introduced as Colton Lassiter. A slew of approving murmurs had Cade second-guessing his decision to approach this bloodthirsty group.

"There'll be no killing here. Yet," decreed McQuade, and Lassiter sat back on a grumble. The legendary gunfighter-turned-leader continued to gaze at Cade through the fire's floating sparks, until he felt like kneeling on the ground and asking for forgiveness. The problem was, the only person able to forgive his monstrous deed was already dead. He stared at his hands as they rested on the pommel of the saddle.

"Get off your horse and tell us the tale. We'll make our decision afterwards." Rustling from around the fire told Cade that McQuade's decision wasn't favorable with the others. Hell, he wouldn't accept himself, so why should he expect them to? But another look from their leader quelled their dissention. He swung off his horse, letting the reins trail in the dirt.

McQuade moved to the circle, seating himself beside the one called Mustard. After glancing around the circle of his Inquisitors, Cade took a deep breath. He'd never recounted the story aloud, didn't know if he could get through it without breaking down. But his life, what was left of it, depended on it.

He began to speak, voice breaking at first, growing tighter with each subsequent word.

"I always knew my past would catch up with me."

***

Cade galloped into the yard, dirt spewing up in a cloud of smoke as he pulled sharply on the reins. His horse reared in protest while he yelled, "Cassie, Cassie, where are you?" He couldn't disguise the quaver running through his words.

The front door to the homestead opened, and Cade nearly sobbed in relief. In the doorway stood his wife, Cassie Sinclair. Kicking his feet free of the stirrups, he leaped to the ground and swatted his horse on the rump, sending it trotting into the barn. He'd deal with it later. If there was a later. He ran up the steps and onto the porch, grabbing Cassie's arm and propelling them both into the house. He slammed the door and locked it.

"What is going on, Cade Sinclair? You went into town for feed, and come back like the very devil is after you. Explain." Cassie yanked her arm free and scowled into his face, crossing her arms under her breasts.

"We don't have time for explanations, Cass." Her frown deepened, blue eyes sparking like lightning at midnight. She shook her head, and the long braid she tamed her flaxen hair into each morning flopped over her shoulder. She'd put on her mule look. He wouldn't get her cooperation unless he told her the truth.

Thank god, she knew most of his sorry past. He'd come clean years ago, when he'd ask her to be his wife. Unfortunately, a few facts he'd neglected to divulge had just resurfaced, and he had maybe five minutes' head start before they overtook him. He hated wasting that time in explanations, but Cassie was a boulder that wasn't going to move otherwise.

"The Pueblo gang is in town." His voice shook as he spoke the name of the gang he'd run with before he'd met Cassie.

"So? You quit that group, what? Two years ago? Why would they search for you now?"

Cade looked down at his feet. He'd been born to parents who abused each other, and him. He'd run away, only to join a gang that preyed on the innocent in this world. They'd become his family when he'd had none. He'd pledged his allegiance to them, but had turned his back when he'd had enough robbing, marauding. Killing. And then he'd encountered Cassandra Wright, who'd found him worthy of her love.

He took an unsteady breath, finally met Cassie's gaze. And almost swore aloud. He could see the love she had for him shining like a beacon on her face. What he was about to say would wipe away that expression and replace it with repulsion. He couldn't be a witness to that moment. He stared at her forehead instead, swallowed, and confessed in a hushed whisper the part of his past she didn't know.

"When I left the gang, I stole money from them. My portion of a bank robbery, as well as some of theirs. I took it and bought this ranch. Now they've found me and want their share back. Do you understand what I'm saying, Cass? We've been living on land bought with blood money. And now they won't leave without it, or my dead body as a down payment. I've endangered you, all that we've built, and I'm so ashamed."

She made a tiny sound, a whimper. He counted to ten, ten long seconds of shattering silence that seemed to separate them like an ocean. He hated hurting her, had hoped his prior life would never touch her. He had forgotten that you couldn't outrun your past.

He closed his eyes, damned the tears that welled under his lids. Men didn't cry. Hadn't his father beaten that into him? Yet, those beatings paled in comparison to disappointing Cassie. Her love, her confidence in him, had shown him a different future, a future he could look forward to sharing. A future of children, laughter, and a lifetime of love.

Her continued silence frightened him to the core. He bit his lip to stem the hot flow of tears that threatened to escape. Just when he thought he might have to repeat what he'd said, two warm hands cupped his face. Gentle lips brushed across his mouth as his angel whispered, "Sh. If anyone's not worthy of love, Cade Sinclair, it's me. You love me so much that you changed your entire life for me. That's the greatest love a person can give. It's selfless.

"I love you now more than ever. Do you hear me? There's nothing you can do that could change how I feel. Except stop loving me."

Cade opened his damp eyes, couldn't believe what he was hearing. Her blue gaze flared as it met his, challenged him to argue. He felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. She'd taken his painful admission of guilt and given it wings. His heart swelled, full of redeemed love for her that all he could do was smile and place his hands over hers as they held his face steady.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve you, but I promise—"

A gunshot rang out, and the front window of their clapboard home shattered, cutting off his words. Cassie pulled out of his grasp on a frightened squeal.

"They made good time," Cade muttered with a curled lip, drawing his Peacemaker. Using his other hand, he grasped Cassie's elbow and pulled her close, planting a quick, hard kiss on her lips. "I don't want to surrender, Cass, even though I stole their money."

"Fie on surrendering, Cade Sinclair. Did they earn that money through blood, sweat, and tears?"

"Not theirs, love." Another gunshot sounded. More tinkling of glass. He and Cassie crouched low.

"Then we fight. At least the money went into land, and not women and whiskey."

Cade chuckled, amazed at how lighthearted he felt for being under attack. It had to be his wife's love, and forgiveness, that made him that way. He duck-walked toward the blasted-out window, saying over his shoulder in response to her earlier comment, "A little went to that, too, I'm afraid." She snorted, and the corner of his mouth tipped up.

Peeking over the window sill, he was dismayed to count seven men ranging behind the bushes and trees. The gang had grown over the past two years.

"Hand me the rifle, Cass, and get ready to reload," he snapped over his shoulder. Within seconds she'd shoved the rifle within reach. He gave her a quick wink, though he wasn't quite sure how they were going to pull this off. Those men outside had had two years to fester their hate.

"You're surrounded, Sinclair. Git out here with your hands up, and we promise not to riddle you with holes."

Yeah, right, Cade thought, sighting down the barrel of the rifle. All he could see was a hat brim, but he fired anyway. It blew off, and started a round of return volleys. More glass shattered. Cassie continued to load his guns as quickly as he emptied them.

This wasn't going anywhere. He had to lure them away from the homestead. A daring idea popped into his head.

"They're going to capture us if we stay here, Cassie. I'm gonna draw them away. While I do that, you hide in the root cellar."

"No."

He turned from the window and skewered her with a silencing glare. She raised her chin, but the sheen in her eyes told him it was fear for his life, not stubbornness, that fueled her response. He dropped the rifle and scrambled to her side.

Hooking her chin with one unsteady finger, he brought her face around. She met his gaze with her stormy one, and the barrage of bullets streaming through the empty window went unnoticed as they looked at each other.

"I can't let you die for my crimes, Cassie-baby. They might as well shoot me in the heart if you do."

Her tears spilled at his words, and he put his hand behind her head and drew her close enough that their noses bumped. He kissed away each teardrop.

"I can't hide, Cade. I'm not a coward."

"I know that, Cassie. God, do I know that. But you have to stay here, so I don't worry about you. Only then can I concentrate on losing these bastards for good." The vase on the kitchen table, filled with wildflowers Cade had brought to her just yesterday, shattered, glass snowflakes covering their hair. He silenced her startled squeal with one last, hard kiss.

"Get in there, sweetheart, and don't come out until you're sure they're gone, no matter what you hear. Promise me." His look must have told her he meant business, because she crawled on her knees to the door hidden under the table and lifted it. Right before she started down, she said, "You'd better come back to me. I love you, Cade Sinclair."

He was already at the bedroom window, which looked out at an outcropping of rock so close he could reach out and touch it. It would be a tight fit for him to slither through, but that's why he'd built there. They didn't have to guard the backside of their home.

Once through the window, he crept toward the front of the house. Timing was crucial. He had to make sure they saw him and gave chase, but not so soon that they blocked his escape. On a silent three-count, he burst from his hiding place and zig-zagged toward the barn, keeping low.

"There he is," someone shouted.

Dammit, it was a little early. Bullets began peppering the ground around him. Shit, these losers couldn't hit the broadside of a barn.

Just as he thought that, he felt a sting in his upper arm, and gained the shadowy entrance to the barn. He'd been winged. As the pain grew, he sucked air through his teeth and located his frantic horse, pacing by the rear door.

"Easy, boy," Cade crooned, approaching the animal. It recognized him, and he mounted. Leaning forward, he opened the door. As soon as the horse saw daylight, it bolted forward, and Cade headed into plain sight.

"Get him, boys!"

They gave chase.

He returned their gunfire while leading them away from Cassie and their home. It wasn't until he reached a rise that he pulled up and hazarded a look back. The Pueblos were still following, though they fallen behind. But it was the sight behind them that started Cade screaming.

A dark, black plume of smoke spiraled into the blue sky like a menacing tornado where the homestead once stood. They'd set fire to the house, and Cassie was trapped inside. He'd never built a back door to the root cellar.

***

"Yup, that's definitely worth killing him."

Back in the present, Cade couldn't disagree. What man left his wife to die? He raised his arms from his sides and faced the shadowy speaker. Lassiter, he thought he was called. "Then take your best shot. I've lost my reason for living. I came here to see if the damned of society found me worthy of life. Apparently not.

"So, mete out your justice. I won't fight. My life isn't worth living without my true love, so do it. Do it."

"Stop."

All heads turned to the speaker, the one introduced as Mustard. He stood, pushing aside Lassiter's drawn gun before moving to stand before Cade.

Cade held his breath. Was this one going to shoot him in the gut, let him bleed out slowly, like he deserved? Or knife him in the heart, which was already broken? He muttered, "Show your face, executioner, so I may thank you before I die."

Mustard grabbed hold of his hood and threw it off. As if hearing Cade's request, the moon escaped its cloud cover and revealed Mustard's identity in its pale glow. Cade gasped. His heart lurched to a stop. He had to be hallucinating.

Before him stood Cassie Sinclair, looking exactly as she had the last time he'd seen her. Not scarred by fire, but as beautiful as before. Alive.

The ground tilted beneath his feet. The moon spun in the sky. Cade heard himself whisper, "You died. I watched our home burn to the ground. There wasn't any escape route."

And the Mustard/Cassie person said, "I crawled out before the whole place burned. They never stayed to check for anyone. You of so little faith, not even the size of a mustard seed. Did you think I could ever be separated from you?"

When she enfolded him in her embrace, held him close to her still-beating heart, Cade understood at last that from tragedy grows the most binding love. One only needs a little faith.

Editor's Note: Tragic Love day judge AngelaStevens562 chose this story as the winner in this theme!