"Buried at the base of the oak tree behind the house," her reply came, jarring him out of his reverie in the flames, and he could hear how her feminine voice caught with emotion that welled up at the admission that her husband, James, was deceased. A widow.<i>No wonder she was packing a six shooter in her skirts. </i>Malcolm's lip curled up on the right side; he appreciated a woman who was willing to fight and defend herself.<br/><br/>And then the push of the wet, sniffing nose against his coat and then arm, huffing and subjecting him to a thorough olfactory examination. It was only when Malcolm turned that he realized just how large the dog was.<i>Christ</i>, he thought,<i>you're a big boy, aren't you...</i>He waited until the dog finished, and when it whuffed in acceptance, turning its big body slowly round and round in a circle and then settling down, he carefully risked a few long, slow pets along its thick fur. Crixus must've clocked in at over one-hundred pounds easy, and possessed the capability to really ruin a man's day if it came to that, he imagined.<br/><br/>"Forgive me, this is Crixus. If you don't like dogs I can take him out back, though you're the first visitor he hasn't greeted with bared teeth and a rather vicious bark. I guess this means we can trust our new acquaintance, Little John..." the wry smile was back as Little John shook his head somewhat incredulously.<br/><br/>Her apology was swift and polite, but Malcolm smiled more fully and shook his head easily while he gave the dog a few more pets, "No, ma'am, I'm fine with him makin' sure he likes me, and it seems we'll get along jus' fine. It is<i>his</i>home as much as anyone's and if'n he's loyal to his old master and you, he's just doin' his job as he sees it, and I can't blame him for that." He grinned and gave the dog one last long brush with his fingers. "Sure glad he<i>does</i>like me though! Can't say I<i>ever'd</i>want to be on the wrong side of 'im!"<br/><br/>He gazed about the room, and noted that it was evenly and nicely furnished. She kept a nice clean house; he respected that. Sofa, two rocking chairs, and a desk spoke of a home tended by a woman who appreciated conversation, comfort, closeness, warmth, and study. Malcolm found himself more at ease and agreement with her the more he learned.<br/><br/>When Elody turned towards the kitchen once more, asking him how he took his coffee, he let his eyes roam over her figure. She was a beautiful woman. Long, rich chestnut hair, a body that was well proportioned, not waifish but not obese either. He admitted to himself that she had alluring warmth that drew him to her. Her cheeks and lips still glowed with vitality and her eyes were alive with crystal clarity. She took care of herself.<br/><br/>Realizing he took a moment longer to answer her than he should have, Malcolm hastily replied, "Black, ma'am. Maybe a bit of sugar if you have some." When she brought him the steaming cup, he breathed it in, sipped it, and then groaned with approval. "By god, that's some of the best coffee I've ever had," he said with eyes that glimmered with satisfaction.<br/><br/>Then all at once the house was on alert, taking up their stations as he found them when he first arrived. A frigid chill blew through the home, stealing the warmth of the hearth and the glow of Elody's smile away. Like Little John and Crixus, she readied herself for a fight and Malcolm saw the tension cord its way through her.<br/><br/>As the three moved to the front of the house, Malcolm followed in their wake, staying in the shadow of the doorway for the moment. Five riders approached, all men.<i>So this is what you were waiting for</i>, he thought.<br/><br/>"Hello there, Mrs. Winston!" the middle man, leading the others upon a painted horse said with a wave of his right hand. He was dressed in rugged, worn, and unwashed cowboy attire, and his hands, which were uncovered, and his face were both noticeably darkened with dirt. These men hadn't bathed in years. And their teeth were even worse.<br/><br/>Malcolm took account of their weapons. A couple rifles, several pistols, and even a shotgun. They carried very little provisions.<i>Hired guns</i>, he thought.<i>Christ.</i><br/><br/>"Have you considered Mr. Thompkins' generous offer? He's been very kind to you, being one of the last holdouts, ma'am."<br/><br/>The leader, dark eyes glittering with malice behind a thick dark mustache, glanced around at her property, his head noticeably moving while the other four men waited for his orders. "Gotta be hard here on ya, havin' only just that one serving boy around to help you manage this place! Why don't you take the money, Mrs. Winston? That'd be the smart thing to do! Go into town... find yourself a<i>good man</i>who can take<i>care of you</i><i>proper</i>, heh, heh," the leader laughed in leering, lustful fashion, his gang sounding off with their own wolfish smiles and laughter.<br/><br/>Then his voice deepened, "Or<i>more than one</i>..." One of the gang whistled loudly.<br/><br/>"In fact, maybe you could invite us in for a spell, and we could...<i>work something out</i>with you, eh?" He looked around with a big, hungry grin and his boys nodded their approval.<br/><br/>"Whaddya say? Me and the boys here could keep you<i>nice and warm</i>and Mr. Thompkins can make you rich! Well, richer than you'd be with this empty patch of land anyway!" He laughed harshly at his own lewd insinuations and insulting words, slapping his thigh.<br/><br/>Malcolm heard Crixus growling low and deep before he turned and saw the dog's fur raised along its back, muscles brandished and tense for battle.<br/><br/>"What's your name, sir?" he called out to the leader, stepping forward through the doorway, giving Elody and Little John a look that said,<i>Just let me work here</i>.<br/><br/>"Oh! Who the hell are<i>you?!</i>" the leader reared up off his forward leaning crouch, his horse stepping back one, two steps.<br/><br/>"I asked your name, first, sir," Malcolm replied, his hands passing nearer to his guns, getting into position, drawing his coat back just enough...<br/><br/>"My name's Quint Rollins, and this here's my gang, though you probably know me better as 'Cash,' since that's how my employers, like Mr. Thompkins, know me," he responded, tightening his grip on the reins and leaning forward once more.<br/><br/>"Well, 'Cash' Rollins, my name is Malcolm Blackwood, Colonel of the 2nd Division, 1st Brigade at Gettysburg."<br/><br/>"Army boy, are ya..." Cash sneered.<br/><br/>"Have you heard?" Malcolm continued, proceeding down off the porch, each wooden step announcing his approach in turn. His left hand went for his vest, but the gang tensed and two of them drew their guns. "Whoa, boys! Don't want to shoot a soldier of this country's army! That, I reckon, would at least be treason, and perhaps a declaration of war at the same time!" He laughed, concealing the adrenaline pumping through his heart right now.<br/><br/>"Heard<i>what</i>..." Cash growled.<br/><br/>"That the Army has taken it upon themselves to rid these lands of the Indian menace! You've not heard that?"<br/><br/>"Out here in Dakota territory?" one of the gang piped up. This drew a glare by Rollins that promptly silenced the overeager young man.<br/><br/>"It's the God's truth, I swear. That's what I'm goin' for here in my vest!"<br/><br/>"Nice and slow, Mr. Blackwood," Cash warned him.<br/><br/>Moving at a careful pace, Malcolm fetched a piece of folded up paper from his vest. Then, holding it up and unfolding it with one hand, he put his index finger next to a seal.<br/><br/>"See that? Yeah, you recognize that, doncha, Cash?"<br/><br/>The leader leaned forward and squinted, "Give it to me."<br/><br/>"No, sir. Can't do that. These are orders from Washington."<br/><br/>"You're out here on orders?"<br/><br/>"Just so."<br/><br/>"Why aren't you in uniform?"<br/><br/>"You think it's wise for an Army scout to move among redskins in<i>uniform</i>?"<br/><br/>Cash narrowed his eyes and grunted. "What's all that have to do with our business with Mrs. Winston?"<br/><br/>"Well," Malcolm managed a chuckle or two, "if'n something...<i>unbecoming</i>... were to happen to the lady here in the middle of her givin' you all some...<i>warmth</i>... as you put it..."<br/><br/>This elicited a few lewd chuckles from the men. Malcolm continued.<br/><br/>"... and the Army were to come through here and find out that you mistreated this here young lady... well, they're the law in these parts. They'd have to undertake her case."<br/><br/>"Not if there's no witnesses!" one of the other gang members shouted, idiotically. Cash glared at him as well.<br/><br/>"Right. 'Cept there are, unless you want to shoot one of their scouts in the bargain. I imagine that'd piss them off something fierce..." Malcolm smirked.<br/><br/>"What are you proposin'," Cash growled.<br/><br/>"My job is to scout the Indian movements and report back immediately to my commanding officers. I'll be gone in a few days time. Then there'll be no..." Malcolm paused and glanced back, and then turned towards Cash again, "Well,<i>less</i>witnesses to...<i>take care of</i>."<br/><br/>"What about<i>you</i>?" Cash studied him.<br/><br/>"Well, I reckon it'd be my word against yours then, and seein' as I won't even be here when you come back, that'd make for a weak case in court."<br/><br/>"Right you are," Cash agreed with a knowing smile.<br/><br/>"But if you<i>try this now</i>," Malcolm suddenly grew deadly serious with his voice, folding the paper up and returning it to his vest, his hands falling to the ready, "I guarantee you, you might actually win this, but not all of you will come out of it alive, and there'll be more than just their blood on your hands. And I don't know about them, but I've killed enough men to last me ten lifetimes, Cash."<br/><br/>The gang leader grimaced. He faced a battle hardened soldier; a man of war now, not just a pretty widow and her servant. The odds were greater than before something going wrong. He took several long minutes to consider his decision.<br/><br/>"We'll be back in two days, Mrs. Winston! You keep your place nice and<i>warm</i>for us, ya hear?" Cash Rollins called out to her over Malcolm. Then he returned his darkened eyes to the man in front of him, "And<i>you</i>best be gone from these parts when we get back, or we may feed you to those savages and your commanding officer will just have to count you as a<i>deserter</i>, Mr. Blackwood. Would be a terrible way to end your service to this great country of our'n."<br/><br/>Sitting up again, he called out, "Le's go boys. Give soldier boy here time to be on his way.<i>Two days</i>, you hear me, soldier boy?<i>Two. </i>I'd be on your way<i>tomorrow</i>, if I were you."<br/><br/>And then the gang, with a few hungry glances and scowls, turned their horses around, one after another, and followed their leader reluctantly away.