<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/e/e4/Natehunter.png/437px-Natehunter.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Nathan Hunter<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Senior Deputy (Law Dogs)<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 2nd, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Night<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The road to Vigilance Ranch<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Margeurite, Closed<br/><hr/>He nearly ventured a small embrace – some part of him wanted to reach out and hold her, and for a moment he leaned forward, compelled to hold her, but the strange, hysterical mix of laughter and near-tears kept him in place, uncertain if such a comfort was welcome.  “I'm sorry,” he apologized, as her voice dripped with acid.<strong>“I didn't mean to imply... I didn't know you.  He'd... claimed you'd kept your maiden name, out of respect for your family.”  </strong>But then she mentioned the train, and his eyes widened, filling with a fierce anger.<br/><br/><strong>“He. What?”</strong><br/><br/>His voice had the same controlled fury when he'd pushed himself off of her – when he'd considered putting the muzzle of his gun in Tom's throat and then shooting his way out of the camp with her in tow.  He grit his teeth, eyes fixed on her for a moment, the nights he'd spent consoling Eklain over his lost wife, his lost business, his lost life suddenly taking on a new light.  The hours of drink, the whiskey – his hand drifted to the pistol at his side, and his voice was a growl.  He'd courted Nathan's sympathy, and he'd offered it, thinking the man shared his heartbreak; instead he'd simply been vying for assistance with his plans to leave a woman murdered or adrift in the west.  By comparison, the chinamen were saints.<br/><br/><strong>“I think Alfred Eklain and I will have a … talk, when we get back into town.”</strong>His jaw was set, his nose curled, rage still seething in his eyes.<br/><br/>The rage slowly drained as he saw her struggle to answer.  The deep tragedy in her voice, the pain of hurt... His hand slipped from his side, and his head hung.  No amount of righteous vengeance could save her from her hurt, and he felt an enormous well of sympathy.<strong> “I'm sorry,”</strong>he said softly.<strong> “I... lost my wife.  A few months after we were married.  Consumption.” </strong>He shook his head.<strong>“I can't imagine how it must feel to... know he's out there, and not know how he is, or... what's happening to him.”</strong><br/><br/>He let his head hang, ever so slightly, uncertain if it was any consolation.