Justified 1. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

_Nelson Abraham Limehouse_

Nelson slipped off his polished brown loafers and placed them neatly side by side, the toes slightly under the end of the narrow bed. He laid his wallet, watch, and a folded newspaper clipping on the dresser. Slipping off his white shirt, he sniffed it and hung it on the left side of his closet. His pants he threw in the hamper by the door.

Standing in his stocking feet in the tiny bathroom, he washed his face and brushed his teeth, not even glancing at the reflection in the mirror.

Back in the bedroom, wearing only his boxers and t-shirt, he eased himself onto his knees beside the bed.

Crossing himself, he began. _Father, forgive me, for I have sinned. _He let his mind go through the day, through the hundreds of thoughts, miniscule and important, all of them laced with human failing. He prayed for forgiveness and the strength to forgive in turn. He prayed that the Lord would bless his work and be with the twelve souls living under his care. He prayed for his brother, Ellstin and the people of Nobles' Holler and lastly, as he did every night, he prayed for God to bless his daughter, wherever she might be, and he also prayed for Francis' son.

Rising to his feet he picked up the newspaper clipping from the dresser and smoothed it out, glancing again at the headline; _Task Force Brings Down Domestic Terrorist_.

"You'd be proud of your boy, Francis," he whispered. He tucked the clipping into the top drawer and threw back the covers. Setting the alarm for 5 a.m., he crawled in, grateful. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Mornin' Boss," James greeted him.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Nelson muttered out of habit, knowing after five years, James would continue to ignore the request.

"We got two new intakes comin' today." The young man laid the paperwork on the desk. "That puts us at capacity, and the state inspector is here day after tomorrow."

Nelson glanced at the papers and looked up at James. "We'll be ready, right?"

"Yes, sir. DeVon and Amari spent most of the day yesterday fixin' that broken pipe in the one bathroom. And Yvonne scrubbed the kitchen from top to bottom. Still got mice, but what old building doesn't?" James turned to go. "Oh, and don't forget, that reporter from the Tribune is comin' this afternoon. Paper'll be good publicity for that grant you're writin', maybe bring in some donations."

Nelson grumbled but reluctantly agreed. The interview wouldn't take that much time, and it might attract the eye of someone with cash to burn looking to do some good.

The reporter arrived late, apologizing. "I got off the 'L' at the wrong stop," the young woman said. "Meghan James." She shook Nelson's offered hand and looked around. She was a little shorter than him, dark-haired, with almond shaped eyes that hinted at an Asian heritage. She wore pressed khaki slacks and a crisp white blouse under a denim jacket.

_Lazarus House _was located in an old firehouse in Garfield Park, sandwiched between the blighted area of North Lawndale, also known as K-Town and the newly revitalized Puerto Rican neighborhood of Humbolt Park.

"This place is really interesting," she said, looking up at the stamped copper ceiling.

"It's on the historic registry," Nelson told her with not a little pride in his voice. "The city has been happy to put the firehouse to use, and with the large kitchen and sleeping area, it was easily repurposed for what we needed," he explained, walking her through the large bay that once housed fire engines, now divided with partitions into a reception area and three small offices for himself and his staff. He introduced her to James, his assistant and Lily, one of the three part-time counselors on staff.

The reporter trailed behind him, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. Nelson pushed open a door and led her into the kitchen. "Afternoon, LaMar," he said to a tall dark-skinned man pouring coffee. Another man stood at the stove, stirring a huge pot of chili.

"Mr. Fox." LaMar shot him a toothy grin. The other man didn't acknowledge them.

Nelson led Miss James to a tiny patio wedged between the firehouse and the laundry next door. The narrow space was lined with flower-pots some overflowing with impatiens and sweet potato vines, several others holding tomato plants heavy with reddening fruit. He pulled out two chairs at a small café table.

As she sat in the offered chair, Meghan asked, "How many residents do you have?"

"We can hold up to fifteen residents, and we're usually full. Most of the men here are recovering addicts, some paroled from prison, some stepping down from detox centers or stepping up from life on the streets." James brought out a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses, pouring one for each of them.

"Thank you," the reporter said. She slipped on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses before she took a sip and tapped some notes into her phone. "What ages do you work with mostly?"

"Any age, really." Nelson stirred some sugar into his own tea. "Except juveniles. Right now, we range in age from nineteen to sixty-two." He chuckled. "Makes for some interesting arguments in the television lounge."

"How many TVs do you have?"

"One. And one computer."

"For fifteen men?"

"Yes. We believe time spent in service to each other - cooking, cleaning, and laundry are all done by residents – there is daily Bible study, prayer time, and some of the residents hold down outside jobs. Doesn't leave much time for technology, Miss James."

The reporter looked stunned, but recovered quickly, asking about the demographics of the residents.

"There are six African Americans, three Hispanics, and two Caucasians, the rest of the residents are biracial."

"You don't serve women here. Was that a choice? Certainly there are recovering women who could benefit from a program like yours."

Nelson leaned forward in his chair, aware of an opportunity to present something he'd been thinking about for a while. "We've been researching the possibility of opening a second location," he said. "When people are in recovery, relationships are complicated and it's best not to start anything new. Avoiding that is the reason for the segregation. Of course, we would like to serve women in recovery as well. We just don't have the facilities at this point."

The reporter typed furiously, obviously intrigued with this angle for her story. "Where does the shelter get its funding?" she asked, not looking up.

"We get most of our funding from private sources. The Church, of course, is one, but only one of many." This was true. Nelson courted benefactors wherever he could, spending far more time at parties and receptions than he would like. "We also have several grants: one federal, the rest from private sources." Again, much of the time he would have liked to spend with his charges was spent on paperwork.

"I always like to have a personal angle in my stories." Meghan took another sip of her iced-tea and leveled her gaze at him. "You were an addict yourself at one point, weren't you?"

"I was," Nelson said without embarrassment.

"Was it a place like this that helped you recover? Is that why you started Lazarus House?"

Nelson shook his head. "No. I owe my recovery to a friend. She stood by me when I needed her and showed me the way out – showed me that I had a lot to live for." He looked around. "This place is a testimony to her."

"What was her name?" She asked, fingers poised above her keyboard.

"Miss James, some people are private people, and we all ought to respect that."

"But surely. . ."

Nelson glanced at his watch. "I really need to get back to work, Miss James. We have two new residents arriving this morning and there's a lot to do." He rose, extending his hand. The young women regretfully shook it, thanked him, and followed him back out through the shelter, pausing to snap pictures with her cell-phone camera as she went.

Back on the sidewalk in front, she turned to him. "May I take a shot of you?"

Nelson shrugged, and she backed up, framing the shot of the tall black man with the Engine House No. 7 and _Lazarus House _signs in the background. "Thank you, again," she said, pocketing her phone, but when she looked up, her subject had already turned and disappeared inside the firehouse.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Despite their plan to arrive in Chicago well ahead of the five o'clock rush hour, what should have been a nice and easy, five-hour drive into the city became long and miserable for all. Baby Willa, who had been a dream on her last road trip, fussed almost all the way there. Anna, seated in the backseat with Adam, was instructed to give her niece some Baby Tylenol, but it didn't do much good.

Other than stopping for restroom breaks and a fill-up, they decided to drive straight through to lessen the baby's time in the car. There was no point in extending her discomfort, although they knew the discomfort on their ears would be a given.

Seemed like a good plan, and Raylan was making excellent time until they made it to just outside of Gary. A sea of red tail lights flashed in front of him on the expressway, as far ahead as he could see until traffic came to a complete halt. Anna offered to check out the situation on her Smart Phone. An overturned semi which turned into a Life Flight rescue had the Lincoln and all surrounding vehicles trapped between exits. There was nothing to do but to settle in and wait for the accident to be cleared. This was going to take a while.

"Jeez." Raylan let out a long, frustrated sigh. Eventually, he killed the ignition and lowered all the windows, as it was another warm afternoon. Bad idea. The air reeked of road tar and gasoline fumes, and he just as quickly raised the windows back up. Willa continued to fuss at a higher volume. Winona asked Anna to release the straps of the car seat and pass the baby to her in the front seat. The change of scenery turned Willa's fussing into little whimpers. She had big tears in her blue eyes.

"What's the matter there, girl?" Raylan asked, as Winona sat Willa on her lap facing her Daddy. "Have ya' had enough of this car ride?" Shifting his tall frame that was becoming stiff, he declared, "I know I have."

It became warmer inside the car as the sun beat down. Willa's little cheeks quickly turned to crimson, and Winona took Willa's little shirt off, allowing the baby a chance to cool off.

"There's plenty more juice in the cooler," Adam reminded them. "Anyone want one?"

They all said 'yes' at once. Adam offered to retrieve them from the trunk of the car. Raylan pushed the trunk release on the dash. Adam quickly exited the vehicle and just as quickly returned with the cooler. He passed a couple of ice cold bottles forward to Raylan, and handed one to Anna. Winona reached down into the diaper bag and grabbed a clean bottle. Seeing that her hands were full with Willa, Raylan gently took the bottle from her and filled it with cold apple juice.

Little Willa became very animated at the site of her bottle, and she reached her little hands out for it.

"Oh. Ya' know what this is, don'tcha?" Raylan grinned and handed the bottle to his baby who wrapped her little hands around it.

Winona propped her up against the crook of her elbow, as Willa began to drink. Raylan twisted the cap off the other bottle of blackberry juice and offered it to Winona. She gladly took it.

"Want another one up there, Raylan?" Anna asked, holding her cold bottle up to her cheek to cool her face.

"What else ya' got in there? I'm not much a fan of these two flavors."

Rummaging through the cooler, she said, "There's a couple of lemonades?"

"That sounds good," he said, taking the ice cold bottle from his sister.

"There's some red grapes in here, too," she offered.

"Oh, yes. Please," Winona chimed in, immediately popping one in her mouth.

Raylan let out a groan, as he tried to stretch out his legs.

"You can slide the seat back, if you need a little more room," Adam offered, angling his knees toward Anna, who sat on the other side of Willa's car seat.

"Thanks," Raylan said. "I think I will." And he pulled the lever and adjusted his seat back an inch or two.

Once again in the cooler, Adam asked Winona if she'd like to split a sandwich, giving her a choice of tuna salad or ham and cheese. Popping another frozen grape in her mouth, she answered she'd prefer tuna.

"I'd like the ham and cheese," Raylan chimed in.

"It's huge," Anna said, unwrapping it. "Want to split this with me?"

"Sure," her brother answered, as Winona poked her head between the seats and smiled at Adam. Adam caught her unspoken yet knowing smile, surely caused by the genetics of the two being ham and cheese lovers. Yet another similarity.

It became quiet inside as each one was busy feeding their respective faces. Occasionally, they heard shouting, a curse word, or a horn honking from the parking lot of cars they found themselves in. Anna passed forward an empty paper bag for Raylan and Winona to discard their napkins. It was about that time that Willa popped her bottle out of her mouth, screwed up her little face, and began to cry.

"Honey. What is it?" Winona looked concerned, taking the baby's bottle from her and sitting her up a little straighter.

And then, it came. Willa threw up her earlier lunch all over the front of herself. And it smelled bad. Sour.

Raylan's eyes became wide, as Winona's hand reached down into the diaper bag, fumbling for a cloth diaper to wipe up the mess.

Inside the hot car with no air circulating, it didn't take long for the foul smell to permeate every square inch inside of the cab. In reaction, Raylan lost it and began to wretch. He barely managed to open the car door before he lost his sandwich and lemonade onto the hot asphalt.

Willa let out a high pitched scream.

"I know, baby. It is _so_ sad." Winona tried to comfort Willa, wiping her down with diaper wipes that she promptly discarded into the same trash bag as their napkins. "To know that your LEO Daddy can handle seeing a man's arm get chopped off right before his eyes, but he can't handle a little baby barf."

Despite trying to hold them in, snickers erupted from the backseat as poor Raylan continued to heave it outside of the car. After emptying the entire contents of his stomach, he held his heavy head in his hands and squinted into the sun, looking from a different angle at all of the vehicles ahead to see if there was any sign of movement.

There was no such luck.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"She's _finally_ down," Winona said, sliding up behind him and beginning to knead the muscles of his shoulders, tight from driving.

"God, that feels good," Raylan murmured, leaning into her hands.

Digging her thumbs into a knot at the base of his neck, Winona dipped her head, planting a soft kiss at his temple. "So, tomorrow you start your search for Anna's father?"

He sighed. "Yeah, I just wish to hell I had some kind of idea where to start."

"Well," Winona said. "You could always start with the police. You know he was a drug addict, right?"

Raylan nodded. Winona looked down, studying his expression. "Is there something else bothering you?" 

For a moment, he considered telling her about Karen's offer, but he didn't have the emotional energy to deal with the conversation that would follow. Honestly, he wasn't sure what her reaction would be. He should've stopped trying to predict her a long time ago anyway. Instead, he turned, sliding an arm around her waist and tugging her down onto his lap.

"Hello there," she said, smiling into a kiss. His hands pushed her shirt up, sliding over the soft skin of her back, expertly unhooking her bra. She laughed, low in her throat and lifted one leg, straddling him. "I thought . . ." she kissed his neck. ". . . you . . ." another kiss along his jaw ". . . were tired." Her mouth found his again as her fingers deftly undid the buttons of his shirt.

"Mmmm," he murmured. "Not so much."

They kissed for a long while, hands roaming, taking their time. He slipped his arms out and tossed his shirt onto the floor. Flushed and hot, Winona tugged her blouse off over her head, not bothering with the buttons. He scooped a breast in his hand, and lowered his mouth, sucking. That nipple rosy and taut, he gave the other equal attention. She threw her head back, biting her bottom lip.

He stood, lifting her easily and tossing her onto the king-sized bed. Stripping down quickly as she watched, he tugged at her skirt, adding it to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. He kissed her belly, feeling the ripples of laughter, as his stubble tickled her skin. Working his way down, he slid her panties over her hips, tantalizing her with soft kisses on the inside of her thighs until she moaned, threading her fingers into his hair and guiding him where she wanted.

She held her breath, waiting to see if he was going to make this a 'sweet, delicious torture' or a 'get down to business' affair. She thought it would depend on how tired he was. A low moan escaped her lips when he ran his tongue over her sweet spot, slow like honey. She lay back and settled in for the slow torture. He skillfully used his mouth to build on her desire, allowing her to take the lead and let him know when she wanted more.

Raylan knew her body; every square inch of it. He knew how to play her . . . how to keep her going for a long time. Trying to keep her moaning down so as not to wake the baby, Winona's breathing became harder. She felt herself coming closer to the verge, and her hands clenched into the covers. She raised up on her elbows and threw her head back. Her breathing was heavy, and the pace of her movement increased, as he softly suckled her.

"Oh, my God," she cried out, helpless to keep her voice down. She panted, breathless, as she reached her shuddering climax. Raylan cupped her buttocks in his hands and held onto her as she reached her peak, until the shuddering stopped.

He moved up in the bed, closer to her.

"Mmmmm," Winona murmured into his ear. "Thank you."

He grinned down at her. "You're welcome." 

"Now," she said. "What can _I_ do for you?"

He rolled over onto his back. "I'm sure you could thinka somethin'."

Winona moved down on him, teasing. Raylan threaded his fingers behind his head. His mind was again preoccupied with the conversation he knew he was going to have with Winona about the job offer. He couldn't put it off much longer.

But Winona also knew every square inch of his body, what made him tick. He let out a guttural moan as she slowly took him into her mouth, her tongue skillfully gliding over him. His thoughts were abruptly taken off any shop talk, as his body had a mind of its own. He was ready, his need was urgent, and he began to thrust into her willing mouth.

After a time of raising his passion to new heights, she looked up at him. "You want to fly solo or take me with you?"

He answered her by reaching over to the nightstand and quickly retrieving a condom. He opened the package and deftly rolled it onto himself. Then, he tugged at her shoulders to coax her up and over him, and she helped to guide herself on top of him and him inside her.

This time, he was ready to 'get down to business.' He held her hips down against his pelvis with both hands. It didn't take long for her to catch up to his passion, and she could feel herself building to another climax. She began to rotate her hips in little circles, which drove him wild. Afraid their cries would wake the baby, Raylan flipped Winona underneath him in one swift motion. She brought her knees up, allowing him even deeper access, and he covered her mouth with his from above. Three more thrusts and she reached her summit, her moans muffled inside his mouth. He followed her and held her, as their bodies quaked through their epic release.

Talk of moving to DC was nowhere on Raylan's mind.

_(To be continued . . .)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

_Bed and Breakfast_

"No, Mom, I told you . . ."

Adam looked at her quizzically, and Anna held up a finger. "Why did you even tell him? I thought we'd decided he didn't need to know."

Adam sighed and shook his head. Anna should have known that her mother couldn't keep anything from the man she'd been married to for over forty years. He hoped that there wouldn't be any interference from André while they were in Chicago.

"I don't make it a habit of keeping things from your father."

Anna snorted. "Too bad that isn't a two-way street."

"That's not fair, baby girl. He's different now. He knows he's done wrong, and he's trying to make up for it."

Anna flopped onto the overstuffed couch and stared out at the city lights. She doubted her father was any different than he had ever been. In her experience, leopards didn't change their spots. "Mr. Limehouse said that Daddy sent Nelson to prison on trumped up charges. All because he came looking for me. How do you make up for that?"

From hundreds of miles away, her mother sighed. "Do you think it's a good idea to talk about this right now?"

"No," Anna said. "It's not."

"So, Raylan, the marshal, is with you?"

"Yes, he is. Adam is here, and Raylan brought Winona and his little girl."

"That is the sweetest baby!" Her mother exclaimed, recalling the dinner she shared with them. She couldn't help but think about the fact that she would probably never have a grandbaby from Anna.

"She wasn't so sweet in the car today," Anna chuckled and told her mother the story of their extended trip.

"Well, you've had quite a day, haven't you?" Her mother yawned, and Anna realized that as late as it was in Chicago, already past ten, it was later in Atlanta.

"Sorry, Mama," she said. "You've got school tomorrow. I'll let you go."

"Alright. You take care and let me know how it's going." There was a pause. "Remember, we love you, Anna."

"Oh, Mom. I know. No matter what I find out, you're my parents." 

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Very early the next morning after a quick shower, Raylan made his way downstairs of the Bed and Breakfast to see if he could rustle himself up a cup of coffee. He was to meet Anna so they could strategize their day. He found Adam out on the veranda, alone, with a cup of coffee and a newspaper.

Raylan took a moment to appreciate the view of the Navy Pier, jutting out into Lake Michigan. The blue of the sky and the lake blended into each other in the morning sun.

"Hey, Adam," Raylan said, walking up on the younger man. "Where's Anna?"

Looking up from the paper he was reading, Adam responded with a little smile. "She's still getting ready. She went for a run earlier, down along the lake. I thought I'd come down and order some breakfast. Have it ready for her when she finishes her shower."

"That's an area where my sister and I differ," Raylan pointed out. "I would never wake up early to extend myself in any way, shape, or form."

He looked Raylan up and down and found him to be . . . not yet awake. "Want a cup?" He slid an empty cup and saucer over in the lawman's direction, followed by a steaming carafe.

"Thanks," Raylan gave him a grateful tilt of the head and took the seat beside him and placed his hat on the table. "I could sure use some of this."

"Did little Willa keep you up last night?" Adam surmised.

"Naw," Raylan shook his head, pouring himself a cup. "But her Mama sure did," he said under his breath, as a smile came over his face. "Luckily, Willa went down for the count. She was still sleepin' away when I left the room. So was Winona." A yawn came over him, and he scrubbed his face with one his hand, as he poured cream and sugar in the cup with his other. He then raked his fingers through his hair, still a little damp from his shower. "What did you order?"

"The specialty is huckleberry flapjacks with farm fresh eggs and maple-cured bacon," Adam reported, folding the paper and setting it aside. "Farm fresh eggs in the middle of the big city," he chuckled.

"There's biscuits and red-eye gravy, too," the proprietor said, walking up behind them.

"This is Warren," Adam said. "He owns the place. Warren, Raylan Givens my soon-to-be brother-in-law."

"Charmed." Warren said, flashing a smile.

"Nice to meet you. Could I have the biscuits and gravy with a side of the bacon?" Raylan asked.

"Certainly, _Raylan_," the man said, placing another carafe and place setting down on the table. "That's an interesting name."

Raylan looked up. "It's the one they gave me."

"I'll bring your breakfast right out," Warren told them. "It's going to be another gorgeous day, and I'm sure you want to get out and see the city."

As he walked way, Raylan leaned in. "Wanna bet it's gonna be hotter than blazes, again today? I need to get the Lincoln to a car wash. Get the upholstery shampooed after Willa's little upset in the car, yesterday."

"That was terrible, wasn't it?" Anna contributed, as she walked up to them. She leaned down and gave Adam a peck on the lips and then reached over and gave her brother a hug. "Poor little thing. How did she do last night?"

"She went down easy. She's sleepin' in, too." Raylan's eyes kept contact with hers as she went around the table and took a seat on the other side of Adam.

"But Winona didn't go down easy," Adam informed Anna, in a teasing voice.

"Hmmm hmmmm," Anna laughed at her brother. "Well. Good for you."

Raylan turned a shade of red. "I shouldn't have said anything. That's not gentlemanly." Embarrassed, he offered, "I must've said somethin' because I wasn't really awake yet. It was before my first cup." He pointed to his coffee.

Pouring a cup for herself, she was still smiling. "It's okay. You're secret is safe with us. You're among family, you know?"

"Yeah, I was just having a little fun with you," Adam explained. "I would never embarrass Winona."

"Yet, you'd embarrass me," Raylan raised his eyebrows.

Adam couldn't tell if Raylan was kidding or not. His little attempt at humor may have fallen flat on Anna's older brother.

Raylan silently sipped his coffee and let the younger man stew for a minute before shooting him a grin.

Adam visibly relaxed. "So," he said, glancing from Raylan to Anna. "Where are you gonna start?"

Anna pulled a legal pad out of her satchel. "We're starting with the police, aren't we?"

"I thought we'd stop in, let them know we're here – the local law always appreciates that – and see if his name rings a bell."

"And then?" Adam looked up as Warren, along with another, older man with close-cropped white hair and a neat goatee, wheeled in a cart with their breakfast.

"This is Frank, my partner," Warren said. The two men began unloading plates and bowls of food onto the table.

"We serve family style," Frank explained. "There's another member of your party, isn't there?" 

Raylan drawled, "She's still sleepin'."

"No, she's not." Winona came in, a sleepy Willa in her arms. "What she is . . . is starving." She took the chair closest to Raylan and reached for the carafe of coffee.

"Allow me, Ma'am." Warren poured a cup and placed it in front of her. "That baby is gorgeous. Isn't this baby just gorgeous, Frank?"

"Gorgeous," Frank echoed.

"Gah!" Willa said, blinking. She turned her head and grinned when she saw her daddy.

"Here," Raylan said. "Let me take her while you get somethin' to eat." He leaned in to take the baby and whispered in Winona's ear. "You worked up quite an appetite last night."

A slow smile curved her mouth. "So did you."

"That's exactly why I ordered these rib-stickin' biscuits with gravy," he grinned.

She looked over at his plate and then, the colorful, printed piece of paper that was on the table, describing the day's breakfast offerings. "Well, as good as those look, they'd go straight to my hips," she nodded. "Warren? I think I'll try the pancakes and eggs. With bacon, as well."

"Coming right up," Frank smiled. "Anything for the little one?"

Winona looked at Raylan. "I can share my pancakes with her."

"You can share your pancakes with me," Raylan teased. "Willa doesn't eat much."

Winona wasn't kidding when she said she was hungry. She looked back up at Warren. "Unless you happen to have a banana?"

"We do," he responded.

"Na-na-na-na." Willa became animated.

"Oh, isn't that cute, Frank," Warren gushed. "She knows what we're saying."

"You're so fortunate," Frank chimed in, directing his attention to Raylan and Winona. "To have such a beautiful child. Warren and I have been trying for more than a year now."

Raylan cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't give up, love," Warren placed a supportive hand on his partner's shoulder. "I just know we're going to get our wish."

The unexpectedly emotional proprietors walked away, back towards the kitchen.

"We are fortunate," Winona agreed.

"That, we are." Raylan looked over at Winona, bouncing Willa a little.

"Na-na-na-na?" The baby persisted.

Raylan deftly distracted Willa by handing her a clean spoon. She grabbed it and held it tight in her little hand, catching a reflection of herself in the stainless steel. She was mesmerized.

Watching her niece, Anna chuckled in amusement. "She's very entertaining."

"Oh, yes. She keeps me amused for hours at a time," Winona gushed.

"Since you're so amused, mebe you outta think about babysittin' your niece for an evenin' some time," Raylan hinted. "Might be fun for the two of you."

"Oh, God," Anna reacted, touching her forehead. "I don't know the first thing about taking care of a baby."

"I do," Adam piped up. "I helped take care of my youngest sister when she was born. Babysat her, too."

"Is there anything you can't do?" Winona grinned at Adam, rubbing in his Renaissance man persona, a little.

"You'd think you were the FBI Agent in your family," Raylan joined in goading him, partly to get back at him for earlier that morning.

"FBI?" Warren asked, overhearing the last part of the conversation, as he placed Winona's plates of food in front of her and pulled a banana out of his apron pocket and handed it to Raylan for the baby.

Feeling bad about blowing Anna's cover, and for a laugh no less, Raylan quickly came to her defense. "I'm a US Deputy Marshal outta Eastern Kentucky," he said, and he pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket to show the owner his ID and shield. "I'm here in Chicago, workin' a case. I need to check in with your local FBI office, later this mornin.' I believe _that_ is what you _overheard_."

Warren became sheepish. His customer was obviously not pleased with his eavesdropping. "That's not a problem. I'm glad you'll be staying with us for a few more days. I feel safer already, knowing we have a marshal here, as our guest."

Raylan peeled the banana and broke of the end and fed it to Willa. "How about you keep that information as our little secret? Okay?"

"Um, yeah. Sure. You've got it."

"Good. Now, I hate to be a pain in the ass, but do ya' think you could bring us some more coffee?" Raylan asked, almost hoping he was being a pain in the ass. "Because we've emptied out these carafes."

"It would-d-d be my pleasure," Warren stammered, suddenly self-conscious. He reached across the table and retrieved the two empties and once again headed back towards the kitchen.

After she was sure Warren was out of earshot, Anna looked over at her brother and said, "Thanks."

"I'm the one who caused the problem," Raylan acknowledged. "Fixin' it was the least I could do. Problem is, I'm sittin' here with my back to 'em. That's the second time they've snuck up on me." He sighed. "Can't even have a private conversation."

"I'll be your lookout," Anna volunteered. "I have a perfect vantage point."

After pouring warm, huckleberry syrup over her pancakes, Winona dug in. "Mmmmmmmm. These are soooo good."

"I know. Yeah?" Adam agreed. "I would have never thought of adding huckleberries. Not something we see much, around D.C. Of course, I'm stealing the idea."

"Good," Winona said, going for a second bite. "Because these are delicious."

"Make sure you save me some of those," Raylan protested.

"I don't know," Winona countered, her mouth full. "There may not be anything left for you."

Raylan reached over and pulled a piece of pancake from the other side of her stack with his fingers and dipped it in the syrup. As he was pulling his arm back, Winona gave his hand a playful swat.

"Owwww," he teased and quickly popped the bite into his mouth.

Adam and Anna laughed. "Are you guys always like this?" Adam asked.

"Mostly? Yes," Raylan answered after he swallowed, as Winona smiled, very pleased with herself. "And by the way? These _are_ good."

"Told you so," Winona rubbed it in.

"Eh, eh," Willa protested, ready for another bite of banana.

Raylan quickly got to it.

"She's got you wrapped around her little finger," Adam said with a chuckle, observing Willa's behavior with her daddy.

"Well," Raylan began, looking over at his future brother-in-law. "I aim to keep her happy. I don't think you and Winona want another day with her like we had, yesterday." Then, he turned to Winona, reached over, and placed his hand on her thigh. "What are ya' goin' to do today?"

"Go shopping, of course," she said very matter-of-factly with a big smile on her face. "Why else do you think I wanted to come to Chicago?"

Raylan gave her leg a loving squeeze. "Well, excuse me, but I thought ya' came to have some quality alone time . . . with me."

She reached over and placed her hand on top of his. "Well, yeah." She blushed, thinking about last night. "And then there's that, too."

Anna, finished with her breakfast, was beginning to become antsy. She glanced at her watch.

Out of the corner of his eye, Raylan caught his sister's growing anxiety. He couldn't blame her and asked, "You about ready to head out, over there?"

"Yes," she answered. She was grateful he noticed.

"Here. I'll take her," Winona said, referring to Willa. She moved her coffee and plate out of the baby's reach.

Raylan passed Willa over to her, but not before giving his baby a kiss on the cheek. "You be good for your mama."

Anna and Raylan stood and said their goodbyes, giving kisses to Adam and Winona.

"We won't be late," Raylan offered. "Whatever you two decide to do for dinner will be fine with us," Raylan offered. He reached over to grab his hat, and they left.

"So, you want to do some shopping?" Adam asked Winona. "You brought a stroller, right?"

"Oh, shoot," Winona hissed, frantically searching for her phone with Willa on her lap. "It's in the trunk of the Lincoln."

"Hold on," Adam calmly said, seeing she had her hands full. And he proceeded to text Anna. A moment later, his phone vibrated, and he read the text message out loud. "They are leaving it at the Front Desk." A moment later, his phone vibrated again. "Oh, Warren said they will put the stroller inside your room."

"Perfect," she smiled.

Willa was all done with her breakfast, too. Winona dipped the corner of a napkin into her water glass and used the wet napkin to wipe off the baby's sticky hands.

Adam grabbed the newspaper and rifled through the ads. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"Shoes," Winona smiled. "They're my weakness. And handbags."

Adam returned to the paper, when the Community Section fell out. There, on the front page, Adam was drawn to a photo with its caption that read, _"Nelson Limehouse. From Addict to Administrator. Lazarus House."_

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"We aren't really going to check in with the FBI, are we?" Anna glanced over at Raylan from the passenger seat of the Lincoln. She twisted her hands in her lap, nervous.

"Nope."

"Then, where are we going?"

Raylan sighed, staring out at the endless stream of morning rush-hour traffic. "Nowhere, at the moment." He slid a paper across the seat to her. "Tim gave me the name of a guy he knows on the job here. They were in the same unit in Afghanistan. He's a S.W.A.T captain. Gutterson gave him a call, and he's expecting us. Oughta smooth our path in looking into Nelson."

"Sean Mullhoney," Anna read the name aloud. "An Irish cop in Chicago."

"Imagine that." Raylan grinned as he maneuvered the car into the turn lane. "Tim says he's a good guy."

After half-an-hour of negotiating Chicago streets, they arrived at the precinct. After inquiring at the front desk, a short, muscular man in police blues approached them. He was older than the sniper, closer to Raylan's age, and his military-short reddish hair was flecked with gray.

"Marshal Givens? Agent Rulé?" He extended a hand to Raylan. "Sean Mulhoney. Timbo called yesterday and said you'd be coming by."

"Timbo?" Raylan chuckled. He couldn't wait to spring that nickname on his colleague. "I appreciate ya' agreein' to meet with us."

"It's no problem," he assured them. "Besides, our mutual friend saved my ass more than once. I owe him. Follow me."

Raylan and Anna trailed behind as Captain Mulhoney led them through the labyrinth of hallways to his office. He indicated the chairs in front of the desk and they took a seat.

"Now," he said, leaning on the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. "I looked up the name Timbo gave me." Reaching behind him he picked up a thin file. "This is all I could find. I'm afraid it won't be much help. Nelson Limehouse was arrested several times on drug related charges and vagrancy, but the last arrest was in July of 2000. After that? Nothing." He handed the file to Raylan.

As Raylan opened the folder, Anna leaned in and saw the face of her father for the first time, stunned and glassy-eyed in his mug-shot. She couldn't hide the look of disappointment on her face.

He reached over and braced her shoulder with his hand. "Are ya' alright?"

"Yeah," she uttered, her eyes never leaving the mug-shot.

Raylan didn't believe her.

_(To be continued . . .)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

_Looking For Mr. Limehouse_

"Raylan isn't answering his phone either," Winona reported, sinking gratefully onto the bench beside Adam.

She set down her packages and glanced into the stroller where Willa slept, one hand clutching tightly to her monkey. They'd spent most of the morning exploring the pricey shops on Michigan Avenue. After a light lunch of soup and salad at Corner Bakery, they were on their way to more reasonable shopping at Nordstrom Rack on State Street.

"Did Anna tell you where they were going?"

"No." Adam shook his head. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and looked at it again, but there was still no response from Anna to his many texts.

"Maybe they saw the paper, too," Winona speculated. "Maybe they're on their way to see him right now."

"That's it," Adam stood. "_We'll_ go see him."

"Us? Do you think that's a good idea?"

"We could invite him to dinner." Adam was excited now. "It could be a surprise for Anna."

"Are you sure she'd want that kind of surprise? And what about him? What are you going to tell him?"

"The truth," Adam said. "I've already made reservations at David Burke's Primehouse for the four of us, and Willa, of course – it shouldn't be any trouble to add one more."

Winona watched him pace back and forth.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Raylan and Anna checked out several rehabs recommended by Captain Mulhoney but came up with a big fat zero. They spent the afternoon on Skid Row on West Madison Street just west of the Chicago River, slowing a photocopy of the mug shot they had of Nelson Limehouse to anyone who would take a look at it. Finding no takers, they were getting nowhere and running out of ideas.

"You know, he might not even be here," Anna said, as they walked down the street. "He may not even be alive."

Raylan was thinking the same thing, but he didn't want to be the one to have to say it. "Problem is, our leads dried up," he said.

Anna let out a big sigh of frustration. "I'm sorry to have dragged all of you all the way here. For nothing."

Raylan looked over at his sister. "I'm sure it's not _all_ for nothin'. I can guarantee ya' Winona is shoppin' her little heart out. She jumped at the chance to come with us, and it had nothin' to do with you findin' your father."

"Adam did the same," she smiled, grateful he gave her the out. "Only he wanted to come to Chicago for the food."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Who'd you say you were again?" The man, whose nametag read _'James'_ peered at Adam through wire-rimmed glasses.

Adam sighed, exasperated. He hadn't imagined it would be this difficult to get in to see the man. "My name is Adam Ralston, and I need to see Mr. Limehouse." Behind him, Willa whimpered in her stroller.

"What's this about?"

"It's personal."

James shook his head. "Mr. Limehouse is busy. I'd be happy to give him your name and number."

Willa whimpered again, and Winona saw an opportunity. "I'm sorry," she interrupted. "But is there a place where I could change her?" She laid on the southern lilt in her voice and gave James a smile. "She gets pretty fussy when she's wet."

"I guess you could use the bathroom." James pointed. "Just down that hallway. Turn right, and it's the second door on the left." 

"Thank you so much," Winona said. "I really appreciate it." She pushed the stroller past the two men. Instead of heading to the restroom, she walked past it and peeked around the corner at the end of the hall to find another corridor. Glancing back behind her, no one was there, so she continued to push the stroller down the corridor. A wiry Hispanic man in baggy jeans and a hoodie came out of a room just ahead. He pulled the door closed behind him and walked toward her. Her heartbeat quickened, but after giving her the once over, he continued on his way. She was astounded at her luck when she saw the plaque on the door he'd just exited that read, "Nelson Limehouse, Director."

The door was slightly ajar, and she saw a black man, his short hair flecked with gray, sitting at a desk, head bent to paperwork. Lightly, she rapped on the door.

"Mr. Limehouse?" she called out.

"Yes," he looked up.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, but I need to speak with you. It's important."

"Okay," he said, leaning back in his chair.

Winona opened the door a little wider and rolled the stroller into his office. "My name is Winona Hawkins. My ex-husband . . . I mean, now he's my fiancée . . . anyway, he recently found out he has a half-sister who was adopted. Her name is Anna Rulé?" She waited for a reaction from him but found none. "Before that, her name was Anna Dumois . . . from New Orleans?"

Still nothing.

She began to get nervous and fidget. Willa was fussing. She wasn't doing a very good job of quickly connecting the dots. "Look," she tried again, reaching into the stroller and picking up her baby. "My fiancée's name is Raylan Givens. He's from Harlan County Kentucky. His sister, Anna, is the birth daughter of Raylan's mother Frances Givens . . ."

Nelson's eyes widened. "Raylan? Raylan Givens? Frances' boy?"

"Yes," Winona said, relieved and excited that the connection had been made. "And we have reason to believe Anna's birth father is . . . you, sir."

Nelson dropped his pencil and slowly stood up. His mouth fell open. "Anna?"

"Yes," Winona nodded. "Your brother, in Nobles Holler, told Raylan about you. Anna's here, in Chicago, looking for you."

The man held onto the desk for support, his hand shaking, and Winona took a moment to study him. Although she found the resemblance between Raylan and Anna uncanny at times, she realized now it was more mannerisms and personality. Anna's physical features, especially her expressive brown eyes and her height, obviously came from this man.

"Anna's here?" His voice was soft.

"Well, she's not physically right here at this very moment," she explained. "Raylan and Anna are out looking for you, right now. Anna's fiancée, Adam, saw your picture in the paper this morning. So, we came over here to Lazarus House, hoping to find you."

Nelson walked around the desk and leaned against it, steadying himself. "Anna's looking for me?" He looked at Winona with tears in his eyes. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day."

Winona patted Willa on her back, calming the babe. She was pleased at Nelson's reaction to the news. It could have easily gone the other way.

"Look, we're all having dinner tonight together. Would you like to join us? It would give you a chance to meet, and then, maybe the two of you could go somewhere and . . . talk."

Still in a state of shock, Nelson responded with, "I'd love to."

After giving Winona a few minutes to change the baby's diaper, Nelson led the way to the lobby with Winona and Willa right behind him.

"Adam?" Winona called out. "This is Nelson Limehouse."

James quickly interjected, "Nelson, I tried to keep them out of . . . "

"It's okay, James. These people really do have business to do with me." Nelson extended a hand. "Adam? It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yes, sir. Adam Ralston. And the pleasure's all mine," Adam said, shaking the man's hand.

Winona stood behind Nelson, beaming, pleased with herself for making this happen. "Adam, Mr. Limehouse would like to join us for dinner tonight. What is the name of the restaurant?"

"We're all meeting at David Burke's Primehouse. Do you know where it is?" Adam asked.

Nelson had heard of it but did not know the location. Adam quickly looked it up on his smart phone. "It's downtown on South Rush Street and the corner of East Ontario. We have reservations at 7:30."

"I will be there," Nelson said, feeling a little lightheaded from all the excitement. "Adam? You wouldn't by any chance have a photograph of Anna. Would you?" 

"Oh, yes. Of course," Adam said, flipping through photos on his phone. "Here's a recent one." And he handed the phone to Nelson.

"Oh, my," he smiled. "She's so beautiful."

"That, she is," Adam agreed.

"Wow," Nelson exclaimed. "As I told Winona, I've been waiting, praying this day would come for a long, long time."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

True to the weather forecast, it was another warm afternoon in Chicago. Anna dressed appropriately for the day in a short sleeved blouse and linen slacks and flats. Raylan, on the other hand, wore his standard lawman uniform: long-sleeved button-up shirt, tie, slacks, boots . . . and the hat.

He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top collar button of his shirt and adjusted the hat to the back of his head, as beads of sweat formed on over his brow. "I don't know about you? But I could use a cold one. Maybe regroup?"

"Sure," she answered, a little resistant to giving up their search, but the truth was, she didn't know what to do next.

Looking around the dilapidated surroundings, Raylan spied a cab down the street. He raised his hand in the air and gave a sharp whistle to the driver. In less than a minute, they were picked up in an older Yellow Cab. Once the two lawpersons were inside the hot backseat, Raylan asked, "Do ya' know of a bar? In a nice part of town?"

The Middle Eastern driver looked at the two, out-of-place tourists through the rearview mirror and answered, "Yes. There is place from here. Not far."

As they took off, Raylan added, "Do ya' have some AC you could turn on?"

The driver shook his head. "Sorry. No air conditioning."

"Tsk." The sound involuntarily escaped Raylan's lips. It had been that kind of day. He shook his head in disbelief at their luck and took off his hat. Then, he removed his tie, altogether, folded it, and placed it in his pocket.

The windows were all rolled down and warm air blew Raylan's sticky, wet hair. Anna faired a little better. Her hair was all up, off her face and neck, pinned in a neat little bun. Sitting silent in the backseat, they arrived at their destination in about five minutes. _Dylan's Tavern and Grill._

It looked like a nice place. Quite a contrast from where they'd just been. Raylan exited the cab and paid the driver. And then, they walked inside.

"Ahhhhhhh," Raylan said with a smile on his face. The place was nice and cool. He raked his fingers through his damp hair, tousling it away from his scalp. He noticed his shirt was sticking to him, and he looked down. He thought he was okay. No wet rings under his arms. But a few more minutes out in the heat, and it could have soon gone the other way.

"Would you like a table or would you prefer to sit at the bar?" A leggy waitress walked over to seat them.

"How about a table," Raylan answered. He scanned the room. It was almost 3:00 p.m., and there weren't many people there . . . yet. "How about that one. In the corner." He pointed to the table that looked good to him.

"You've got it," the blonde smiled. "Follow me."

She led them to the table and waited for them to take a seat before handing them the Happy Hour menu.

Glancing at the long lists of beers, Raylan asked, "Could ya' recommend a cold beer for a man who's not up on Chicago beers, yet has an incredible thirst after bein' outside too long, on this hot day?"

The waitress smiled at him. "I always like the Begyle Blonde. It's nice and light. Leaves room for an appetizer."

Looking over at Anna, he asked, "Do ya' think an appetizer would spoil our appetite for dinner tonight? I know I need to stop by the place we're stayin' and take a shower before we go."

"I think we could order something," she answered. "Are you a fan of wings?"

Raylan looked at the waitress and caught her name tag. "Yeah, Jen," he nodded, finding them on the menu. "Why don't ya' bring us one of these here Jumbo Chicken Wings. And one of those blonde beers you was tellin' us about."

"Alright." Jen wrote his order down on his pad.

"Could you make that the same beer for me, please?" Anna asked.

"Sure thing." Jen flashed a pleasant smile and left to put their order in. "I'll bring you some water, too. Those wings are a _little_ on the spicy side."

As the waitress left them alone, Raylan excused himself to go to the restroom.

"I'll stay here and wait for the beers," Anna volunteered. "I'll go when you get back."

She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. Swiping a finger across the screen she was surprised to see numerous texts from Adam. Realizing neither she nor Raylan had checked their phones all morning, she tapped on the first text, hoping nothing was wrong.

When Raylan returned to the table, Anna's pilsner glass was already half empty.

"Guess you were thirsty," he joked, sitting and quickly taking a gulp from his own glass. "Good, huh?" Anna's answer was to pick up her glass and down the rest of it.

"Adam found him." Her voice was hardly above a whisper.

Raylan cocked a questioning eyebrow.

"Adam found my father," she repeated

Jen arrived with a hot platter of wings, celery, bleu cheese dressing, and placed it between the two of them. "Can I bring another round?" she asked, eyeballing their nearly empties.

"I think so," Raylan answered, his eyes never leaving Anna.

A beat off, Anna chime in. "Yes." She nodded and looked at both of them. "Another round. Please."

"Coming right up." Jen smiled.

As the waitress left, Raylan leaned over the table and reached out for his sister's arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said with a weak, unconvincing smile. "Adam says we're all to have dinner tonight. And Nelson was invited. He said he'd be there."

"Do say?" Raylan asked. After a pause he continued. "Ya' know, if you'd rather have this reunion in private . . . just say the word."

"No," she responded, immediately, warmly placing her free hand on top of his. "I don't want to be alone when we meet. I mean, I don't know him. Nelson Limehouse may be my biological father, but he's a complete stranger to me."

"Alright," Raylan said from a place of strength, giving her arm a squeeze. "We'll all be there for ya'. Mr. Limehouse will be outnumbered."

Anna drank down the remainder of her beer. "God. I hope he shows."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Tepid water sprayed over Raylan's head, washing away the day's sweat and grime. He poured some of Winona's shampoo into his palm and lathered up his hair. The scent was one he had come to love. A little floral on himself, for his taste, but it beat the far sweeter smell of the shampoo that came with the room. After rinsing his hair, he lathered up a washcloth, soaped up his body, and rinsed himself clean.

He reached outside the shower curtain and grabbed a nearby towel and quickly dried his hair. Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped the towel around his waist and pulled out his razor. If he was going to meet Anna's father, he figured his facial hair could use a bit of a clean-up.

He applied a little shaving cream to his cheeks and neck and took the first pass with the razor when heard Winona arrive with Willa.

"Knock, knock," Winona said, her arms full of baby and the fruits of her day of shopping. She unloaded the bags on the bed.

"Well, hello," he smiled, looking at her through the mirror. "So. You and Adam managed to do what a Chicago cop, a US Marshal, and an FBI Agent could not do. Huh?"

With Willa in her arms, she walked closer to the bathroom door. "You sound jealous," she teased.

"Da-da-da-da," Willa called, excited to see her Daddy.

"Hey, little one. Didya' have a good day power shoppin' with your Mama?" Taking another pass with the razor on the other side of his neck, he said, "And no. I'm not jealous. I just can't figure out how ya' did it."

"Well, as fate would have it, there was an article in this morning's paper about the Lazarus House. It's a rehab facility where Nelson works. He's the Director and his picture was in the paper," she explained.

"He's the Director. Huh? Good for him." He couldn't help but remember Nelson's mug shot. He didn't appear to be in very good shape.

"We both tried to call you and Anna."

"Yeah. I know. We didn't have any indication you'd left texts until later this afternoon. Damn cell phone towers," he said, rinsing his razor under the running faucet. "Uh, sorry," he grimaced, catching himself curing in front of the baby. "So. Ya' took Willa into a rehab facility?"

"It was Adam's idea to check out the lead. Especially, when we didn't hear from you." Then, she unapologetically said, "I'm glad we did."

He gave his face a quick rinse and grabbed a face towel to pat it dry. "I'm glad ya' did, too," he said, and he leaned in for a kiss, followed by giving Willa a kiss on the cheek. "Now, if you'll give me a minute to finish gettin' dressed, I'll take Miss Willa off your hands so that you can get ready."

"Sounds good," she smiled. "I'd like to get her fed so that maybe she'll fall asleep. She's pretty worn out. I'm thinking that Burke's Primehouse and a wailing baby might not mix well." Raylan nodded his agreement. After a beat, she asked, "Raylan? Do you think it's a good idea for all of us to be there tonight? Don't you think Anna would like to have some time alone to meet her father?"

"I asked her about that," he said, boxers already on and a t-shirt following. "She said she doesn't know the man. She'd feel better if we all were there."

"I hadn't looked at it that way," Winona said, biting her lip. "Okay. I feel better knowing that. Because I felt like we would be intruding. I even said something about it to Adam."

Stepping into clean slacks, Raylan said, "I gotta hand it to Adam. He seems to know her pretty well. A lot longer than we have."

After he quickly brushed his teeth, combed his hair, applied some deodorant and put on a clean button down, his socks and his boots, he motioned for Winona to hand over his baby. "C'mere you," he smiled, riding the baby up in the air. "Come spend some quality time with your dear ol' Dad."

Winona gave him a warm smile, another peck on the lips, and she ducked into the bathroom.

_(To be continued . . .)_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

_A Prickly Reunion_

Nelson checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror for the fourth or fifth time. Picking up the small scissors, he trimmed a stray hair from his beard. He ran a hand over his hair, smoothing down the nap.

A rap at the door startled him, and James poked his head in. "Your cab's here. Don't wanna be late for this meetin'." The younger man flashed a grin, happy for his boss who'd taken him in and changed so many other lives for the better.

"No," Nelson agreed, shrugging into his best sport coat. "I've waited way too long for this to waste one moment." He opened the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out a brown envelope, tucking it into the inside jacket pocket, careful not to bend the contents.

"You nervous?"

Nelson raised an eyebrow at his friend. "What do you think?"

"She was lookin' for you," James reminded him. "That says something."

Outside, the cabby honked, impatient. Grabbing his wallet and keys, Nelson headed out, James following. "Be sure Ramirez signs those papers," he said, over his shoulder. "And Donnie went to his new job today. Check in and see how it went. Check on LeShawn, too. I'm worried about him since his mama passed."

"I got it. I'll take care of it all," James assured him. "You go have a nice evening with your daughter."

After giving the cabby the name of the restaurant, Nelson sat back against the seat and watched the city go by. Familiar streets, lined with buildings . . . some abandoned, some deteriorating . . . others in various stages of revival, faded away in the dark as the lake shore skyline came into view. The last of the evening traffic slowed them down, and it was close to 7:30 by the time they pulled up in front of the hotel that housed the restaurant. Nelson paid the cabby, giving the man a generous tip.

As he took a deep breath and opened the car door, stepping out into the warm evening, he said a silent prayer of thanks for the opportunity before him . . . and really wished he could have a drink.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Winona slipped a yellow sundress on a sleepy Willa and tucked her into the carrier. "Would you grab Monkey out of the crib?"

"Ya' know, if Monkey was ever to turn up missin'? We'd have hell to pay," Raylan quipped. "Maybe we better buy another Monkey to have a spare. Just in case. Where'd Monkey come from, anyways?"

"Gayle, bought it for her at my baby shower," she reminisced. "That's a good idea. I'll ask her she got it."

Raylan bent down, scooped the stuffed animal up, and tossed it to Winona. She caught it in her free hand and gave it to the baby, who immediately stuck the animal's tail in her mouth and began sucking on it. Her eyelids fluttered and closed.

"And . . . she's out," Raylan whispered. He leaned in and planted a kiss on Winona's mouth.

"Let's hope she stays that way," she worried. "I'm not sure it's a good idea taking her to such a ritzy place."

"We don't really have much choice," Raylan pointed out. "Unless ya' want to ask Frank and Warren to babysit."

"I'd be afraid we'd never get her back," Winona chuckled.

"Guess she's goin' with us, then." He winked as he bent to pick up the carrier. "Ready?"

Winona paused for one more look in the mirror, adjusting the neckline of her dress and tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

"You look great," Raylan said. "Is that dress new?"

She nodded. "Do you like it?"

He slid his free arm around her waist and pulled her close. "Yep. I like the way it looks on ya', but not as much as I'm gonna like takin' it off of ya' later."

"Promises promises." She giggled and pulled away. "Let's go. I know Anna doesn't want to be late."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The interior of the restaurant was modern and elegant. A wine rack filled the wall dividing the restaurant from the bar and entranceway, giving a view of the more formal dining room to the left. A young woman, tall even without the high heels she wore, her straight blonde hair pulled back in a neat twist, approached Nelson.

"May I help you?"

His eyes darted left and right, searching for the man and woman who had come to the firehouse earlier. "Um . . ." he cleared his throat. "I'm meeting some folks." 

"Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes." He nodded.

She raised an eyebrow. "Your party's name?"

"Oh, oh my, I'm sorry. It's Ralston. Adam Ralston."

A manicured finger traced the names on her list. "I have a Ralston at 7 o'clock, but they aren't here yet. Would you like to wait in the bar?"

"No, no," he said. That would be inviting temptation. "I'll just wait here." Too nervous to sit, he pretended to be interested in the wide variety of wines displayed in the floor-to-ceiling wine rack.

The door opened behind him, sending a rush of warm air into the cool vestibule. He turned, but it was a well-dressed older couple. They gave him a smile and a nod as the blonde escorted them to their table.

Two more times the door opened, and he was disappointed and getting more nervous by the minute. What if Anna had changed her mind? What if they'd decided not to come? He mentally chided himself for not giving the young man his phone number or getting the name of their hotel, when he had the chance. _Calm down, Nelson, _he thought. _This is Chicago. The traffic is always bad. They're probably just running late._

Another few minutes went by. The blonde glanced at him every so often, finally walking over. "Are you sure you don't want to have a drink in the bar? We'll hold the reservation for ten more minutes or so, since we aren't full tonight."

"Thank you, and no. I don't drink." Nelson buried his worry and flashed her a smile. "I'm sure they'll be here any minute."

Just as he finished speaking, the door opened again and the woman from earlier that morning stepped in. He recognized her right away, even though her hair was pulled up now, curls trailing around her face. She beamed when she saw him.

"She's coming," Winona assured him. "But she's pretty nervous."

"Me, too," was all he could manage to say.

Winona laid a steady hand on Nelson's arm, as a man came through the door behind her, holding a sleeping baby in a carrier_. _The man was tall and lanky, like his father, but the brown hair swept back off his face and the eyes that took Nelson in were his gift from Frances. Winona had convinced him to forgo the hat for this special occasion.

"Raylan," Nelson uttered, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "I'd know you anywhere. You look so much like your mother."

Raylan held out his free hand for a firm shake. "Nelson. I wish I could say I remember you, but I don't."

Nelson shrugged. "You were a bitty thing. I'm neither surprised nor offended."

"That's good." Raylan nodded, glancing away, out the window. "Eh, Anna's a little skittish. Excited, but," he stopped, looking somewhat desperately at Winona for help.

"I already told him she's nervous," she assured Raylan. "Who wouldn't be?"

The blonde hostess approached. "Is this the Ralston party? I can seat you now."

"We've got two more," Raylan offered. "They're right behind us."

Winona leaned into Nelson. "Anna didn't want to be late, so we came on ahead. They should be here any minute."

"That's fine," the hostess motioned for them to follow her, and they did. "I'll bring them to you when they arrive."

They were led to secluded six-top with a linen tablecloth that had a _'Reserved'_ sign on top of it. Winona took a chair on one end of the table and asked the hostess for a stand for the baby carrier. Raylan motioned to Nelson with his hand to take the seat, across from them on the end, thinking that Anna might want to sit next to him. And then, he carefully placed the carrier on top of the table without waking the baby. Willa was weighing heavy on his arm.

"Frances' grandbaby," Nelson said in a low voice upon peering inside the carrier. "She's a pretty baby."

Taking a seat, Raylan said under his breath, "She'd be Frances' grandbaby _if _she was still alive."

Nelson's face grew heavy at Raylan's remark, as Winona's eyes filled with concern. She shot Raylan a look of disappointment at his lack of sensitivity.

Catching her glance, Raylan softened and followed up with, "Sorry, Nelson. Ya' did know my mother is deceased. Didn't ya'?"

Swallowing down the lump that formed in his throat, Nelson answered him. "Yes. I knew."After a beat of silence, he looked up and added with mournful eyes, "One of the biggest regrets I have in my life was allowing your mother to go back to your father."

"I'll say," Raylan rolled his eyes. "As if ya' had any say in the matter."

Nelson let out a sigh. "Back in those days? I really didn't." Folding his hands on top of the table, he said, "I can't imagine Arlo is happy about our reunion, tonight."

"Hmmph. Don't have to worry about that. Arlo's dead, too." Raylan shot a look of irony at the man.

Nelson reacted to the news by shaking his head. It all made sense. "And that's when you found out you have a half-sister."

"Now, you're trackin'," Raylan nodded.

As a young male server brought a stand to Winona, and another brought a round of waters with sliced lemon and a basket of warm sourdough bread, the blonde hostess arrived with Adam and Anna. As the couple approached the table, Nelson automatically stood up, his eyes fixed on the beautiful Anna. At the same time, Raylan managed to carefully place and secure Willa's carrier onto the stand, next to her mother, without waking the baby.

Recognizing him from the photo Adam showed her in the newspaper, Anna held out her hand when Adam said, "Nelson Limehouse, this is my fiancée, Anna Rulé."

Without a thought, Nelson took her hand, pulled her to him, and wrapped his arms around her. He hugged her tight and for a long time, as his eyes became moist. Anna felt him shaking with emotion . . . emotion she wished she could return. She just stood there, hyper aware of this man who was her father. This man she did not know.

When the hug was finally over, Nelson took her by the shoulders and said, "You don't know how long I have waited for this."

Silently, she nodded, as they each took their seats. How she wished she was seated across from him rather than next to him. Then, she could look at him without the physical proximity. It all felt so . . . unnatural to her.

As if she didn't feel uncomfortable enough, Nelson couldn't keep his eyes off of her. He couldn't help but stare at her.

"Could I bring you something to drink so start off with?" the hostess asked. "A bottle of wine . . ."

"Yes!" Anna piped up. She looked nervously over at Adam. "A bottle of wine would be very much appreciated."

"Sure," Adam nodded. He quickly perused the wine list. "We'll have a bottle of the La Crema." He handed the list to the young woman.

"Very well, Sir. I'll be right back with that."

Raylan, who would have normally jumped on a whiskey drink, decided to pass, under the circumstances. So did Winona.

"I'll take a Club Soda," Nelson politely answered.

After the hostess left them, it suddenly dawned on Anna that Nelson was in sobriety. "Oh. I'm sorry for ordering the wine. I wasn't thinking."

"Oh, no, Darling," he said. "You go right ahead. It's not going to bother me in the slightest. I was a vodka man. Now, if you were throwing back Stoli cocktails? I might be tempted."

Nelson's little joke was met with an uncomfortable laugh from the adults at the table.

"How long have you been sober?" The FBI Agent in Anna just came right out.

"I've not had a drink in a little over 20 years," Nelson answered, proudly pulling out his 20 year pin from AA.

"You must be _very _proud of that," Adam commented, drying to deflect the tension.

"I am," Nelson concurred. "It was not easy to do, but I did it. I stopped drinking, _and_ I stopped using. And now, I've devoted my life to helping others get a new start."

Winona chimed in. "That is a very noble calling, Sir."

"Thank you," Nelson nodded, returning his pin back to the safety of his inside jacket pocket.

After an awkward pause, Nelson took his chance. "Enough talk about me. I want to hear all about you, Anna. And you, too, Raylan. Your lives must be far more interesting than mine." He continued, "I know you are both in law enforcement. The FBI and the Marshal Service."

"I'm stationed in DC," Anna answered, not having much more to say.

"We recently served on a task force together," Raylan elaborated. "We went after some homegrown terrorists." He reminded himself that he still needed to have that conversation with Winona . . . the one he had been putting off about Karen's offer.

"I read about that," Nelson nodded. "In the paper."

"You _knew_ about that?" Anna asked, unsure how she felt about it.

"I knew Raylan's name," Nelson said. "_Raylan Givens_ isn't a name you hear every day. What I didn't know was yours."

The wine steward arrived, showing the bottle to Adam, who nodded approval. He placed five glasses on the table, but Adam shook his head. "Just the two of us," he said, indicating Anna. "Unless you've changed your mind." He shot Winona a smile.

"Go ahead," Nelson said. "I'm fine."

"Well, in that case..." Winona smiled as the waiter set a glass in front of her. After opening the bottle, he poured first for Adam, letting him taste. Adam nodded again and the waiter poured.

"If it's not too much trouble," Raylan said. "I'll take a whiskey, neat."

"Woodford is our house liquor. Will that be acceptable?"

"Absolutely."

Nelson looked around the table. "Good," he said. "I want you all to be yourselves. Don't change anything for me. I'm invited to plenty of social events around the city, through my work at the shelter, and this city likes to drink. I learned long ago not to judge." He glanced down at his place then over at Anna. "But, addictive behavior can be genetic," he said softly. "So, be careful."

Anna flushed and set down her wine glass.

"She doesn't drink to excess." Adam said, jumping to his fiancé's defense.

"Nah," Raylan said, attempting to ease the tension. "That'd be me – sometimes."

"Not so much, anymore," Winona added hastily.

Another waiter arrived with menus and all at the table dropped their heads, focusing on them, grateful for a break in the increasingly uncomfortable conversation. Raylan's eyes bugged at the prices, as did Nelson's.

"What look's good?" Raylan asked Winona.

Equally aware of the prices, she said, "I was thinking about the Ravioli. And you?"

"The stuffed pork chop would be just fine," Raylan responded, relieved that Winona selected a dish under $30.00.

"I'm considering the pork chop, as well," Nelson chimed in.

"Guys. This is the number one steak house in Chicago," Adam said, peeking over the top of his menu. "No one is going to try one of these aged steaks?"

"At $60.00 a pop . . . I think I'll pass," Raylan said, chasing his words with a sip of his whiskey. "As a matter of fact, I think I'm pretty much drinkin' my dinner."

This made Anna feel doubly uncomfortable. Everyone was there . . . for her. "Look," she said. "Dinner tonight is on me. Please, get whatever you'd like."

"I don't feel right about you picking up my tab," Nelson interjected.

"Honestly? Can you afford this place?" she asked, knowing where he worked.

"No," he hung his head. "I really can't. I'm paid a stipend to run our non-profit."

"Then, I absolutely insist," Anna said, softening a little. "You did me a big favor coming here tonight."

Adam cleared his throat. "Coming here was my idea. If no one's told you, Nelson, I'm known to be a connoisseur of different cuisines. I'd heard about this place and really wanted to check it out." He shifted his weight in his seat. "Dinner is on me. I insist." He looked around the table to include Raylan and Winona in his offer.

"Well, then, hell," Raylan chuckled. "I'm gonna have this here $70.00 piece of cow with a couple of these overpriced sides."

"Raylan," Winona chided, giving him a swift kick under the table.

"I'm kiddin'," he said. "I'm stickin' with the pork chop."

"Why don't you try the aged 40-day rib eye?" Adam suggested. "That's what I'm getting."

"Well, I had been lookin' forward to a steak all day." Raylan reconsidered.

"They're supposed to be the best in Chicago," Nelson chimed in.

"Alright," Raylan said, nodding to Adam. "Sounds good."

A waiter came with another basket of warm bread and took their order. Nervous, Anna went with a shrimp cocktail and a salad. Adam ordered the aged steak, medium rare, with a side of squash and creamy greens.

Raylan ordered his steak, and Winona chose the roasted chicken, and they got a side of the gourmet mac and cheese to share.

Nelson stuck with the pork chop.

After the waiter left them, Nelson reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope he brought with him. As he carefully opened it, he said, "I have a few pictures of your mother I thought you might like to see."

Anna took from him the first Polaroid of a woman and a little boy. Upon further scrutiny, the boy looked familiar. "Raylan? Is this you?" She passed the picture over to her brother for a look.

"Looks like," he answered, squinting in the dim, restaurant lighting. "I don't remember this place."

"That was a diner in Corbin," Nelson said. "I don't think it's around anymore. Anyway, if you look closely, Frances was pregnant with you, Anna. And you were about five-years-old there, Raylan."

"Let me see." Winona leaned in to get a look. It wasn't often she had a chance to see pictures of Raylan when he was very young. "Oh. You were so cute," Winona gushed.

"Was?" Raylan objected.

Nelson passed more photographs over to Anna. "And here's a few more when Frances came to stay in Noble's Holler."

There was another one of Frances and Raylan, and one of Frances by herself. She was a pretty young woman. And she looked happy. Raylan noticed it, too.

"Why did ya' leave?" Raylan asked Nelson.

"You don't know?" Nelson asked. "I assumed my brother would tell you."

"Your brother said ya' came back to Noble's Holler one time, after you left," Raylan reported. "That you were strung out and needed to get yourself cleaned up."

"I left you and your mother because Arlo, who was in prison at the time, put a bounty on my head when he found out Frances was pregnant," Nelson explained. "Believe me, I didn't willingly leave Kentucky." He paused, to collect his emotions. "That's when I began to drink and then, to use drugs. What kind of a man was I? I couldn't be there for your mother or you. Or you," he said, looking at Anna.

"But you came looking for me," Anna said.

Nelson looked surprised. "How'd you know that?"

"Elstin gave us some information," Raylan said. He took another sip of his whiskey.

Nelson sighed. "I did go down to New Orleans, but . . ." he shook his head. "Couldn't find out anything. Just got myself arrested and thrown in jail."

Raylan shared a look with Anna and mouthed the words "_Up to you."_

"There's something you should know," Anna said. She leaned her elbows on the table. "My fath – Andre Dubois, the man who raised me . . ."

"Your father," Nelson said, emphatically. "The man who raised you _is _your father."

"He had you arrested," Anna explained. He had you arrested and thrown in prison because he didn't want you around."

"I know," Nelson said. "Your father is a cop."

"Was," Anna corrected him. "He was forced to take an early retirement. It's a long story."

"Your father," Nelson continued with his thought. "He testified at my hearing." Nelson looked deep into his daughter's eyes. "In those days . . . at that troubled time in my life? Honey, I would have done exactly the same thing, had I been your father and if the tables were turned."

Anna took in a deep breath. For the first time since she met Nelson Limehouse, she felt something. She felt the depths of the change he endured through her lifetime.

Raylan downed the rest of his whiskey. There was more to the story, but now was not the time.

_(To be continued . . .)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

_Two Steps Forward, One Step Back_

Adam and Anna arrived back at their room. Since leaving the restaurant, Anna had been very quiet.

"A penny for your thoughts?" After opening the door, Adam put a supportive arm around her and gave her a hug

She melted into his arms. "How could I have searched for him, sought him out . . . and then have nothing to say to him?"

"It went better than you think," he suggested. His head leaned in to touch hers.

Looking up at him, she said, "No. It didn't. It felt so . . . awkward. Surreal." After a beat, she added, "Nelson has all these memories. Stories. When he talks about Frances or Raylan, he lights up like a Christmas tree. Those are good memories for him. And me? He can only imagine memories of me, because . . . he doesn't have any. There aren't any."

Adam brought her closer into his arms and listened.

"I have no memory of any of it. How could I? I was too young." Anna's eyes became moist with tears. "I feel nothing for the man. Nothing. I know I'm supposed to feel _something_. He's my father! What's wrong with me?"

Hugging her tighter, Adam kissed her lightly on the top of her head. "There's nothing wrong with you. Of course you wouldn't have any memories. You only know what you've been told. Your parents weren't exactly forthcoming with information. It's no wonder you don't feel anything."

Anna began to sob, releasing the tension she'd held in, buried inside.

"There's good news in not having any history," he suggested. "You two don't have any _bad_ history to overcome. I mean, he did nothing bad to you. Not directly. Not intentionally."

Sniveling, Anna reached up and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "I guess that's true."

"And you two can make your own memories. New ones," he again suggested. "With no one in the middle, mucking up the works."

"That's true, too," she nodded.

"Just take it as it comes," he said. "Don't add any pressure or expectations. Let it be, and let it grow."

"I suppose," she nodded. She could always count on Adam to ground her. It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

Adam took her chin in his fingers, tipped her face up toward him, and leaned in for a kiss that began slow and smooth. Anna responded, and the kiss grew to one of tongue and passion. The heat between them built until their bodies began to grind in their embrace. Frantically, she unbuckled his belt buckle, and he raced to help to lift off her top, up over her head.

Off came the rest of their clothes, landing in a heap at their feet. Lip-locked, they moved further inside their room, until Adam led them over to the easy chair. Using the chair as support, he eagerly entered her from behind. Anna skillfully reached down and slowed his pace until their movements matched their breathing.

Adam's hands were free to roam her body, and he sensually stroked her back, her shoulders, and her arms with his fingertips. Then, he leaned over her and wrapped his hands over her breasts, caressing them. She responded by moving back, against him with each inward thrust. She turned her head towards his, and they kissed. They picked up the pace and intensity until he brought her over the top, and he soon followed with his own release.

Upon recovery, they moved to the bed. Tired and spent with a little too much to drink, the two cuddled in close and were out in no time.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Willa, who slept all the way through dinner, was wide awake by the time Raylan and Winona returned to their room. Raylan took care of his baby's bath, giving Winona some time to relax before nursing her. He allowed Willa to play and splash in the bathtub for quite a while before scooping her up in a towel. Winona had her pajamas and diaper all ready, laid out on the bed. Raylan diapered Willa, put a clean sleeper on her, and handed the clean baby girl to her mother, who was propped up against the headboard of the bed.

Willa was hungry and ready to nurse. Raylan walked over to the mini bar and took a look around.

"There's a couple of beers in here. Want one?"

"Sure," she answered.

He twisted the caps off of both bottles and handed one to her. He then took a seat in the chair, across from her. "Winona? I need to talk to ya' about somethin' that's come up."

"What?" she asked. By his tone, she could tell this was serious.

"Karen Goodall gave me a job offer. In D.C. Seems like my stayin' in Kentucky is not financially an option for the Service. That came as no surprise." After a long pause, he went on. "But a transfer to Miami is no longer an option, either. That part _did_ surprise me."

Winona took in a deep breath, reached over to the nightstand for the beer, and took a long pull on the bottle.

"The money is good. I mean, Karen's makin' it work my while to transfer. You won't even have to work, unless you want to," he explained. "And I guess another plus is we'd be closer to Anna and Adam."

He watched her avoid eye contact with him. "I know it's askin' a lot for you to leave your family. Especially after what just happened to Davis." He leaned forward in his chair, holding onto his beer. "I promise we'll rack up a lot of frequent flyer miles, and you and Willa can go and visit your sister as many times a year as ya'd like."

"Raylan." She finally looked up at him with big, blue eyes. "You know I'll go anywhere with you. But you also have to know how I feel about you working so closely with Karen Goodall."

"I'm bein' recommended to work with the task force based on my performance at my last assignment. It's a joint project between the Service and the FBI. If anything, Karen will have eyes on her." He sighed. "I don't see that as a bad thing."

"But what about the danger?" She continued, "I know it's dangerous in Harlan. Or Miami. But homegrown terrorists?" She shifted her weight in the bed with the baby still in her arms. "You and Anna and Tim could've been killed!"

"Kentucky drug thugs, Miami cartels, or American homegrown terrorists. What's the difference?" He shrugged. "They're _all_ violent criminals, breakin' the law."

Winona was uncharacteristically silent for a while. "Does Anna know?"

"No. I wanted to talk to ya' first."

"I appreciate that," she softened, a little. "When is this going to happen?"

"I told Karen to give me some time to talk it over with you."

Winona rolled her eyes. "Bet she was thrilled with that."

Raising his eyebrows, he continued. "She told me not to take too long."

"Understood."

Sheepishly, he admitted, "She called me about the job, _before _we left Kentucky."

Winona shot him a look of surprise.

"I didn't wanna deal with this until your father came home from the hospital, and we found Anna's father. Well? Davis is home, and we found Nelson. At least you and Adam did," he said under his breath. "You and me? And Willa? We are now back on the front burner." After a beat, he added, "I hope _we_ can stay on the front burner for a long, long time."

"That would be nice," she said, looking down into Willa's sparkling eyes.

Raylan continued to sip his beer.

"Alright. I'll call Karen in the mornin'. Find out what's next."

Finishing the beer, he placed the empty on the end table and made his way over to the bed. He toed off his boots, stripped down to his underwear, and slid under the covers next to his girls. They played with Willa on the bed for another hour or so, until she finally began to fight sleep . . . and lost.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Winona stretched her arms over her head, running one foot down the length of Raylan's naked leg. "How does it just keep getting better?" She giggled. "You'd think we'd be bored with each other by now."

"Bored?" He rolled onto his side to face her. "I don't think borin' is in the cards for us."

Winona's brow furrowed. "Especially if we're living in D.C."

Raylan considered her for a moment. "Are you sayin' you wanna go? Or you don't?"

"What do you want?" she asked, turning the tables.

"Honestly?" He pushed the hair back out of his eyes. "It's a great opportunity. Not only to keep workin' for the Marshals, but also to work with Anna and get to know her better; spend some time together. I know ya worry about Karen." He traced a finger along Winona's ribs, and she shivered. "But she respects ya', and our relationship. And if that should change?" He kissed her collarbone and her neck, stopping just below her ear and whispered. "I'll just sue her for sexual harassment."

He muffled her giggle with a kiss to begin round two.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Nelson returned to Lazarus House, a little after 10 p.m., and headed back to his office to catch up on paperwork before turning in for bed. Signing off on the daily attendance and accounting reports for funding were part of his daily duties. As were the nightly bed checks.

"You're back," James said, surprised when he poked his head into Nelson's office at one point. I wasn't sure if you were plannin' on comin' back here tonight or not." After a pause he added, "Just wanted ya' to know that they're all accounted for. Includin' Donnie and LeShawn."

"Good." Nelson looked up. "Oh, is Donnie's job going okay?" He wanted a little more information.

"Yessir. It's all goin' just fine."

"Thank you, James. For holding down the fort."

"Well?" Now, it was James who wanted a little more information.

His head buried again in his paperwork, Nelson answered the question with a question. "Well, what?"

"Well? How did it go with your daughter?"

Nelson leaned back in his chair, let out a sigh of frustration, and laid his pen down on the desk. "I talked too much. Like a blithering idiot. I was nervous and didn't know what to say. So, I jibber-jabbered . . . about nothing. Especially, when I was met with her silence."

"A quiet one, is she?" James chuckled. "Are ya' sure she's your daughter."

"Yes," Nelson nodded. "I'm sure. She takes that thoughtfulness before she speaks after her mother."

Once again that night, his thoughts turned to Frances. He hadn't allowed himself to think about her in years, and yet, seeing Anna and Raylan brought memories of her flooding in. As he stared off in the distance, obviously preoccupied, James took the hint.

"Night. I will see you in the mornin'." And James left Nelson, alone with his thoughts.

About a half an hour later, Nelson locked up his office and walked the short distance from Lazarus House to his flat, where he drank a glass of ice cold milk before turning in.

Despite his long day and the milk that usually soothed him, Nelson found himself rolling and tossing on the narrow bed. Finally, he threw off the covers and got up. Stooping, he reached under the bed and pulled out a rough-hewn box. The lid creaked as he opened it. Carefully, he took out the faded clipping and, setting it aside, he stared at the photograph underneath.

His much-younger face looked out from the picture, caught by surprise, the wide window of Ellstin's barbeque joint behind him. Beside him stood Frances, her head thrown back in laughter, one arm holding a small boy close. The boy gazed up at her in wonder, as if he'd never heard her laugh before.

Nelson remembered that moment, and his mind took him back in time.

"Oh, my," Frances said, wiping at her eyes with one hand. "I haven't laughed this hard in ages."

Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled. For the first time, he noticed how beautiful she was, now that the cuts and bruises from Arlo's last beating were healed. His heart beat a bit faster, and he hoped his admiration didn't show on his face. Frances was skittish as it was.

"Mama?" Raylan tugged at the apron she wore tied around her waist. He was a worrier, that boy.

"What, Baby?" She bent her face close to the boy's, as he turned and whispered something in her ear. Her smile faded, and she straightened, smoothing the apron. "Mama's gotta get back to work." She took a paper placemat from the stack and fished a box of broken crayons out from behind the counter. "You sit here and draw me a picture. When I'm done, we can go wade in the stream if you want."

Raylan made a face but scooted up on the stool and picked up a crayon.

After a moment, Nelson laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Why don't I take him fishing?" He suggested. "I was meaning to go, anyway. No reason he can't tag along." 

"I don't know," Frances hesitated. She looked at her boy. "You wanna go fishin' with Mr. Nelson?"

Raylan nodded, kicking his feet. "Can I, Mama?"

Frances bit her lip, then nodded back. "Go ahead. Behave yourself and mind Mr. Nelson, you hear?"

"Yes, Mama."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"You're going to work in D.C.?" Anna's eyes widened. "On the task force? With me?"

"That's the plan." Raylan grinned across the breakfast table at his sister. "Whaddya think?"

Anna shook her head. "I think it's an incredible stroke of luck. For you and me, anyway." She turned to Winona. "How do you feel about it?"

"Well," Winona said, shifting Willa on her lap and giving her a clean spoon to amuse herself with. "I'll miss my sister and my parents, but I'd be missing them in Miami, too. If we aren't staying in Kentucky, D.C. is at least closer. I can be home in a little over an hour on a plane, and it's not a bad drive." She took a sip of coffee. "And if I want to go back to work – which I do eventually – I'd imagine there's no shortage of court reporting jobs in Washington."

Anna gave a sideways glance at Adam who cleared his throat. "My uncle might be able to help with that."

Raylan raised an eyebrow. "Who's your uncle?"

"He's a judge on the Circuit Court of Appeals in D.C."

It was Winona's turn to be surprised. "Reporting jobs there don't come up often," she remarked. "And they pay extremely well. The coursework I took at Louisville while I was pregnant would qualify me, too."

"If you get me a resume, I'd be happy to pass it along to him."

Winona nodded. "I'll do that." She looked down at Willa and smiled. As much as she enjoyed being a mother, the prospect of going back to work, in a city as exciting as she imagined the nation's capital to be, was very tempting.

Raylan leaned back in his chair and took a sip of hot coffee from his cup. In an instant, the dread he carried for having to call Karen with an answer flipped off like a light switch. While it was true he could work anywhere, so long as he was given enough leeway to do things his way . . . it wasn't just him anymore. It was Winona he'd been concerned about. To see her happy, even excited about their future in D.C., took a load off of him. So long as Winona was happy, he and Willa would be just fine. And to have Anna and Adam living nearby? That was icing on the cake.

Anna's phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out and glanced down at her phone display. It was Nelson. They had exchanged phone numbers before leaving the restaurant last night.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Anna. I hoped to catch you before you started your day." Nelson took in a slow breath. "Look. I just wanted to apologize for last night. I was extremely nervous, meeting you for the first time."

"I know what you mean," she shared, pleased to hear the honesty in his voice.

"I wanted to know if you might have time to stop by Lazarus House? Let me show you around. See what I've been up to?"

She thought for a moment, and then said, "Okay. What time?"

"Would you like to stop by for a little tour and then, lunch? I'm the boss. You name the time," he said.

Looking over the tempting breakfast spread served family style on the table before her consisting of a lobster pecorino frittata, cherry hazelnut muffins, and fresh fruit with yogurt, she suggested, "How about I stop by at 1:00?"

"That would be wonderful. I'll see you then."

After disconnecting the call, she announced, "That was Nelson. He wants me to come by Lazarus House for lunch."

"That's great," Winona smiled. "It's a wonderful project he has going there."

Adam moved his chair closer to Anna and placed a supportive arm around her shoulders. "Would you like to have some one-on-one time with him? Go alone this time?"

"No," she said without hesitation. "Would you come with me?" she asked him.

"Of course," he answered with a loving squeeze. Then, he looked over at Winona. "I'm sorry. I know you wanted to do some more shopping today."

"Oh, that's fine. Finding Nelson is the reason we're all here," Winona assured him. "Besides, now Raylan can go shopping with me." She looked over and smiled at Raylan, too sweetly.

Letting out a sigh, Raylan commented under his breath, "I can hardly wait." Then, he leaned over and whispered in Winona's ear, "Just make sure we make it back here in time to take advantage of Willa's nap time." And he slyly, suggestively ran his fingertips along the side of her full breast.

"You've got yourself a deal, Cowboy," she whispered back.

_(To be continued . . .)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

_Reminiscing_

Raylan stayed behind on the veranda of the bed and breakfast, while Winona took Willa back to the room to pick up a few things for the baby before leaving for her shopping plans. He placed a call and nervously paced back and forth, waiting for Karen Goodall to come on the line.

Thoughts filled his head. He had mixed feelings about leaving Art, Tim, and Rachel. He had mixed feelings about working more closely again with Karen. For as much as he tried to downplay it all with Winona, the truth was, there was history between them. Like a double-edged sword, some of their history was good, and some of it was not so good. He always felt like Karen had more of a problem with their past than he, especially when she asserted her power.

"Raylan! I've been wondering when I'd hear from you."

"Well," he said to Karen, keeping his voice down low. "Now, you can stop wonderin'."

"Did you talk to Winona about my offer?"

"I did." He was proud to report, "She's not opposed to movin' closer to Anna. Not at all." That was one way of giving her an indirect answer.

"Good! When will you and Anna return to the District?"

"Um, yeah," he stalled to collect his thoughts. "I need to have a word about that. You remember me tellin' you that we were goin' to search for Anna's birth father? In Chicago?"

"Yes. Did you find him?"

"We did. But only last night. These things are . . . complicated." He nervously shifted his weight and put the phone to his other ear. "Do ya' think we could have another week or so to get this done, before we head in?"

There was silence on the other end of the line and then, "After what you and Anna went through on the Arndt case? I think both the Bureau and the Service can spare you two for another week to ten days. But I must tell you . . . When you come back, we need you both here and focused. Understood?"

"Yes, m'am," he answered in his full Southern charm. "And Karen?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for this. I mean it." Sounding uncharacteristically humble, he said, "Much appreciated."

"Raylan? Call my assistant, Natalia Freeman. She needs to get some personal information from you for your transfer of benefits, taxes. Your raise. And a relocation bonus that will help you move into a new place. She's out on an appointment now but will be back after lunch, our time."

"I'll do that."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"How much will the bonus be?" Winona asked, eyeing a chocolate brown leather couch at Crate and Barrel on Michigan Avenue.

"Karen didn't say, and I haven't had a chance to call back yet since you've been draggin' me up one side of this street and down the other." He yawned, shifting the bags containing enough clothing for Willa to wear a new outfit for the next two weeks with no repeats.

"We were lucky to find that sale at Kid's Gap," Winona countered, looking around for a salesperson. "She's having a growth spurt. I swear her legs got longer overnight! Those tights she's wearing are going to be too short the next time."

"She's gonna be tall like her Daddy, aren't ya, Baby Girl?" Willa grinned up from the stroller, showing her three teeth.

An associate approached. "Can I help you?"

Raylan and Winona spoke at the same time.

"We're just lookin'."

"Yes, is this couch available online?"

The man chuckled before turning his full attention to Winona. "Yes, it is. All the items you see here are online, and there are other colors of leather and fabric available as well." He walked over to a nearby desk and pulled a pamphlet out of the drawer. "Here are some samples."

"Thank you," Winona gave him a smile. "We're going to be moving soon and . . ."

"Decorating a new home is always so exciting!" he gushed.

Raylan rolled his eyes and wandered to the window, staring down on the bustle of North Michigan Avenue. Winona found him a few minutes later. "You do realize that we have absolutely _no _furniture, right? Not even a bed."

"Isn't your stuff in storage?"

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "We are _not _going to start our new life sleeping in the same bed I slept in with Gary."

Gary. He'd honestly almost forgotten about ol' Gary. He shrugged. "It's just a bed."

"It's bad luck."

He slipped an arm around her, as she pushed the stroller into the elevator. "Think of how many folks had slept on that old motel room bed, and it wasn't such bad luck." They both looked down at Willa. When the elevator doors slid shut, he tipped her chin up and stole a kiss.

"That's different, Raylan," she said, pulling away before the doors opened again.

"Okay," he said, giving in. "When we find a place in D.C., we'll look for some new furniture." 

"We'd better have some basics _before_ we find a place."

"So, we'll get a bed." He held the door open, and they exited onto the sidewalk. A strong breeze was sweeping in off the lake. Raylan put a hand on his hat to steady it. Clouds had rolled in while they were in the store, and the temperature had dropped a good ten degrees. He was comfortable in his jacket, but Winona shivered in her short-sleeved blouse and reached down to tuck a blanket around Willa and grab a sweater for herself out of the pocket of the stroller.

"How 'bout some lunch?" He glanced at his watch. "It's past one. That means it's after two in D.C. I should be able to get ahold of Karen's assistant now."

"Let's go to that place Walter was talking about," she suggested. "Shaw's Crabhouse?" She shivered again. "A hot bowl of lobster bisque or clam chowder is sounding pretty good right now."

"Alright." He tapped the name of the restaurant into his phone. "That's a ways from here," he said, as they walked. He looked up at the sky. "Looks like rain. Wanna take a cab?"

"What about Willa?"

"Most cities exempt cabs from car seat laws, I'm sure she'll be fine on my lap for a short ride."

Winona looked skeptical, but they flagged down a cabbie who helped collapse the stroller into the trunk. Raylan slid into the backseat, and Winona handed him the baby before slipping in beside him.

"No have to have car seat," the driver assured them. "I drive very safe."

"Make sure ya' do." Raylan glared at the man from underneath the brim of the hat. He reached behind and grabbed his wallet from his back pocket with one hand. While holding onto Willa with other, he opened the wallet to reveal his shield to the driver. Through the rearview mirror, Raylan warned, "I am a U.S. Deputy Marshal and . . . if anything happens to her?" He pointed his head in the direction of Willa, and continued, "I'll hunt ya' down like a dog."

The expression on the cabbie's face fell flat. He checked and rechecked the traffic three times before slowly pulling away from the curb. Winona bit her lip, trying hard not to let out a chuckle."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Anna and Adam were directed to have a seat by a tall, lanky Lazarus House resident in dreadlocks, who interned as a receptionist.

"I'm Ezra," he said, "But they call me Easy. I'll get Mr. Nelson for you."

When they were left alone, Adam looked over and saw Anna, tapping her foot. "Are you nervous?"

"Huh?" she asked, unaware of what she was doing.

"Your foot?" He pointed at her foot still tapping, up and down.

"Oh," she answered, suddenly self-conscious. "No," she corrected him. "I guess I'm impatient. Part of me just wants to get this over with."

A few minutes later, Nelson appeared with a scowling Easy following on his heels. "He should've just brought you back to my office," Nelson said. "I guess James forgot to pass on that message."

He reached Anna and stopped, unsure of what to do. Sensing he wanted to hug her, Anna took a breath and stepped forward, willing to do it, even though it made her uncomfortable. Nelson stopped her with a hand on each shoulder.

"No," he said, firmly. "I don't want you feeling obligated to show me affection. Why should you? You don't know me." He held his hand out, and she gratefully shook it. Placing his other hand over hers, he squeezed gently. "I'm so glad you and Adam are here. I can't wait to show you around."

Turning to Easy, he instructed. "No interruptions. Anything other than an alien invasion, James can handle."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"This is quite an operation," Adam said, when the tour brought them back to the entrance. "I'm impressed."

"Me, too." Anna nodded. "It's amazing what you've done." Her eyes took in the board, covered with photographs and letters from grateful former-residents and their families. 

"Oh, it wasn't all me. Not by a long shot." Nelson shook off the praise. "I had help from too many people to name. But none of this would've been possible without Foxy. You say you met her?"

"I did," Anna answered. "She's really something. She said I looked like my mother."

Nelson's gaze softened. "You do. So much. I know that sounds odd, since Frances wasn't black, but you look more like her than you do me."

"I noticed the resemblance with Raylan right away," Adam said. "Does he look like his mother also?"

"Some," Nelson acknowledged. "But I see Arlo in him, too." Then, he chuckled. "Don't tell Raylan I said that." He glanced around, noticing the desk was empty. "I need to make sure we're covered, and then we can go to lunch. There's a diner not far from here I enjoy. Simple food."

"Sounds good," Anna said.

Nelson wandered back down the hall in search of his wayward receptionist, giving Anna and Adam a moment to themselves.

Adam slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, planting a kiss on her forehead. "You seem more relaxed. Do you feel like you're getting to know him?"

She shrugged. "I guess." She sighed. "It's just really, really weird."

"I can't imagine," Adam said, meaning it. He looked over her shoulder at the wall of memorabilia behind her. "It _is _impressive though – what he's done with his life. And he seems to be doing it without ambition . . . I mean . . . not for himself."

Anna nodded against his shoulder. She had to admit that she was beginning to like the man. And he'd been so proud showing them the halfway house, glancing her way every so often to see if she was interested. Still, it was surreal to think he was her _father._

Nelson returned, without Easy, but with another man. "I know he's your sister's boy, but you need to reign him in, James. He can't just go running off during the work-day."

"I'm sorry," James said. "It's that ex-wife of his, always callin'. I'll tell him to stop taking her calls while he's workin'."

"You do that." Nelson looked up and cleared his throat. "Sorry about that." He indicated the man beside him. "This is James, my right hand man. I couldn't run this place without him. James, this is my daughter, Anna Rulé and her fiancé, Adam Ralston."

They all shook hands. "It's so nice to meet you," James said.

"Now, we're going to Cindy's for lunch. We're good, here, right?"

"Yessir, we are good. I'll stay out front myself until Easy gets back."

"Thank you, James."

Adam held the door open for Anna and Nelson, and they walked out into the warm and sunny day.

"Cindy's is a nice walk from here," Nelson said, leading the way.

"You seem to really like it here," Adam said, trying to make small talk. "Have you ever thought about going back to Kentucky? For a visit?"

Nelson bristled. "I don't think that would be a very good idea."

Anna flashed her fiancée s troubled look.

"Well, what about coming to D.C.? For a visit?" Adam found himself a little flustered and tried to get his foot out of his mouth. After receiving yet another look from Anna, it seemed he may have inserted it even further.

Nelson looked over at his daughter, studying her non-reaction. "If it's all the same to you, we can take this as slow as you'd like. I'd love to come visit you two. But only when you're ready. I can wait."

"Thank you," Anna give him a grateful smile. She didn't want to call him Nelson. It seemed cold. But she certainly didn't want to call him Dad or Daddy, either. That just didn't seem right. So, she didn't call him anything at all. "We'll be here another week," Anna offered. "Then, Raylan and I need to get back to work."

"Another week, huh?" Nelson seemed pleased. "Not to push anything on you, but if you'd like . . . maybe I could take a day off, and I could take you around? Show you some of the sights? We could go to the top of the Sears Tower. They renamed it Willis a couple years back, but I can't get used to it. Then, there's the Art Institute, and you can't leave without seeing The Field Museum – they have Sue, the most complete T-Rex skeleton ever discovered." Nelson rambled, clearly in love with his adopted city. "It's too bad baseball season is over. There's nothing like an afternoon in the bleachers at Wrigley."

"That's where the Cubs play, right?" Adam asked.

"Yes. The White Sox play at U.S. Cellular Field – _that _used to be Comisky Park."

Adam nodded. "So, Wrigley hasn't sold out to corporate America, yet."

"No, and hopefully it never will." Changing the subject, Nelson asked, "Remember when you asked me if Raylan looked a lot like his mother?"

"Hmmm, yes," Anna acknowledged.

"I'll tell you how he _really_ reminds me of her," Nelson continued, walking down the avenue with his hands in his pockets. "It's his diction and the polite, easy, Southern way he has about him. He certainly did not get that from Arlo. Also, I strongly suspect he got his sense of right and wrong from his mother. I can guarantee you he didn't get _that_ from Arlo."

"Sounds to me like there was no love lost between you and Raylan's father," Anna remarked.

"No, there was not," Nelson stated as a matter of fact. "He wanted to kill me. And he wanted to kill Frances, too."

Anna looked at him with wide eyes.

"It was a different time, and Arlo Givens was an angry white man." His thought went back to Frances. "Your mother came to Nobel's Holler to escape Arlo's beatings."

"I know," Anna hung her head while walking. "Raylan told me."

"She had Raylan with her that time because Arlo was in prison. But that wasn't the first time she had to run to Noble's."

Anna looked up at him, in surprise.

"No, the first time I met your mother was about two years before," Nelson volunteered. "Arlo had run her off. Mr. Givens had a propensity for getting drunk. I can't judge the man for drinking, as I later developed the same problem. I just hope and pray that I never physically assaulted anyone while under the influence. I don't think I did. I _know_ I never assaulted a woman or a child."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Arlo assaulted a child?" She thought she pretty well knew where this was going.

"It was no secret around town that Arlo not only beat Frances. He beat Raylan, too," Nelson volunteered. "And when he wasn't beating on him, he was hard on him. Over the top." He let out a sigh. "I never could understand it. Raylan was such a _good_ kid. And Frances was such a good woman."

Anna and Adam both immediately thought this explained why Raylan had no love lost for his father.

"The first time Frances came to Noble's, Raylan wasn't with her. Arlo wouldn't _allow_ her take him." Nelson shook his head. "Poor thing was worried sick about her little boy. So, I would go over to Harlan and check up on him. You know? To make sure he was okay. I don't know what I could have done if he wasn't, but at least I was able to be a set of eyes for her. I could let her know that her boy wasn't being harmed. Although taking his mother away from him was as mean and abusive as hitting him." After a pause of silence, he added, "Anyway that is how I became friends with your mother. By watching over Raylan for her, when she couldn't. I must have been pretty good at spying on him, too, because I never got caught. Arlo Givens would have shot me on sight, if he'd seen a black man anywhere near his property."

The picture Nelson drew about the family she was being born into made Anna shudder. Adam walked up closer to her and put a supportive arm around her.

"There's Cindy's, up on the left," Nelson pointed. "Good. We missed the lunch crowd. There's usually people spilling out onto the sidewalk, waiting to get in."

When they walked in, the hostess knew Nelson as a regular and immediately sat them at a table in the corner and set them up with water and coffee. There was a navy bean and a chicken noodle soup, both homemade and served in a bread bowl. Nelson and Anna ordered the soup, while Adam ordered a BLT.

They were all quick to order, as Anna wanted to hear more of this story.

"Back to the story of the first time Frances came to Noble's," Nelson got back on track. "I would go and talk to her, every day, to give her an update on Raylan. Telling where I saw him. What he was doing. She got to where she would wait for me to come each day, and she was so relieved and grateful for the information. Anyway, over time, she became pretty comfortable around me and would talk. She opened up and confided in me about her life with Arlo. I don't think she had anyone else to talk to about it. The drinking and the beating. Running the barbeque joint, Lord knows I'd seen my share of drunk and disorderly behavior among men. Ellstin and I broke up too many drunken brawls to count. But the thought of these men, going home and beating on their wives and kids? In Nobel's, the men in our Holler wouldn't have stood for that. Not from one of our own." He took a sip of ice water. "For that reason, Frances felt safe with us. All the beaten women felt safe with us. And that is how we became a haven for all the abused white women in Harlan."

"Wow." After a moment, Anna continued with her thought. "I'm an FBI Agent. Please, excuse the bluntness of this next question, but I have to ask. Did you befriend _all_ the white women who came to Noble's seeking safe harbor?"

Nelson closed his eyes. He was offended, but he could also understand why Anna would ask such a question. He centered himself before answering, directly. "No. I was a shy young man. It was not my nature to make time with the white women."

"Thank you for answering my question," Anna said. "It's just that it's something I have to know."

There was real pain in the man's eyes. "I understand."

After a moment of silence, a waitress arrived with their lunch. After she left them alone, Nelson broke the silence. "Anna?"

She looked up.

"I _loved_ your mother. With all my heart. I've never loved another woman since her," he shared. "She was _it_ for me." Still in pain, he dropped his head and began to silently spoon his soup into his mouth.

Tentatively, Anna reached across the table and placed her hand over his arm. She felt bad that she was the one who brought up something that visibly hurt the man. It was the first time she reached out to touch him. "I understand, too," she said. "Thank you . . . so much . . . for telling me that."

He looked up to find tears welling in Anna's eyes, which caused his eyes to do the same. She squeezed his arm.

Swallowing down the lump that formed in his throat, he gave them all an out by saying, "How about we eat this soup? Before it gets cold."

_(To be continued . . .)_


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

_Highs and Lows_

Raylan found Willa making little babbling noises from her crib after waking up from her nap. He and Winona had dozed off for a little while after returning to the B and B for a little 'afternoon delight.' He reached down to the floor and grabbed his jeans from the pile of disheveled clothes and quickly put his bare feet through the legs.

"Hold on there, child o' mine. Daddy's comin'."

"I'll sure say you did," Winona stirred from under the covers.

"As did you. Twice," he seamlessly deadpanned, reaching out for the baby. "Sometimes, I envy women, bein' able to come again . . . and again."

She propped her head up on her hand. "I figure that's our reward for having to carry and give birth to babies."

"Touché," he said, swinging Willa up and out of the crib and bringing her up to his bare chest. After looking her over, he said, "I don't think she's hungry. Maybe she's lonely. All by herself in that crib."

"Hmmm. Maybe she's wet," Winona offered. "Want to toss me the diaper bag?"

"I was just thinkin'," he said, handing her the bag, followed by Willa. "Now that we know we're gonna have enough of that relo bonus to put a down on a place, and my new salary can more than handle a mortgage payment . . . what say we talk about a brother or a sister for little Willa?"

Winona smiled and shook her head as she checked Willa's diaper. She was dry. Raylan was right about Willa, but she wasn't about to tell him he was. Instead, she distracted him by answering, "Don't you think you're putting the horse before the cart?"

"What do ya' mean?" he asked.

"I mean, you're talking about having more kids . . . and you and I haven't even seriously talked about getting remarried. It's always been something that will happen in the future. Some day."

"You wanna talk about it, now?" He was pleasantly surprised she brought it up. "It sure would make applyin' for all these Federal benefits a lot easier."

Pulling the monkey out of the diaper bag and handing it to Willa, who was now sitting up on the bed, propped up against her mother, Winona quipped, "Gee. You make it all seem so romantic."

"Funny," Raylan grinned. "Seriously? We have to go back to Lexington so that I can turn in the Lincoln before we can head out to our nation's capital. You could have a chance to say goodbye to your folks and Gayle and Wade and the boys . . . pack up a few things. We could even get married at the courthouse." After a pause, he added, "If ya' want to."

"We went from talking about it to actually doing it?" she asked, not sure of what just happened.

"Hey. My sister is gettin' married," he pointed out. "We can't have me livin' in sin on the Task Force while she's about to become an honest woman. Now, can we?"

Playing with Willa's hair with her finger tips, Winona was gently reminded this conversation wasn't only about the two of them, anymore. "I guess it would be nice to have Mama and Daddy there." After a beat, she added, "And, considering this compensation package you just negotiated, I can't deny I won't receive more than a little bit of satisfaction flashing the sparkler you're going to put on my finger underneath your boss' nose,

"See? It's a win-win." He grinned and leaned down to give her a kiss that involved a lot of tongue, before jumping in the shower.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

After their heavy breakfast and late lunches, the four of them had made due with Warren's heavy hors d'oeuvres for supper, then taken the short walk to the John Hancock building, towering over North Michigan Avenue. They rode the ear-popping express elevator that made Willa fussy and found a table near the windows to look out on the city lights.

"I guess we're lucky to be here during the week," Adam said. "Warren said it's packed on the weekends."

A tall brunette waitress, with generous cleavage displayed, took their drink orders. Adam took the liberty of ordering a bottle of Shiraz, as Winona kicked Raylan under the table. "It's not nice to stare."

Anna smirked. "Give him a pass on that one," she advised. "Even I stared."

"Thanks, Sis." Raylan gave her a wink.

The bottle of wine arrived with four glasses as the bosomy waitress poured and left them to themselves.

"Winona and I have some news," Raylan smiled, holding up his glass. "We're gettin' remarried, as soon as we get back to Lexington."

"Wow," Anna smiled, clinking her glass first to Raylan's and then, Winona's. "That's fantastic news."

Adam joined in. "Congratulations, you two!"

"Well." Winona felt like an explanation for the sudden decision was needed. "Raylan found out what his new compensation package was today. It's a very nice package. And one thing led to another in our discussions." She smiled. "It seems like everything is just falling into place this time."

"Gee." Teasing, Raylan gave her a look. "Ya' make it seem _so_ romantic."

"Me?" Winona reached over and play-slapped his leg. "You're the one who was talking about doing this so you wouldn't have to fill out your benefits paperwork more than once."

Taking a sip of the wine with blackberry undertones, Raylan retorted with, "It _is_ a consideration." Wanting to get himself out of this one, he changed the subject and turned his attention to Anna. "How was your day with Nelson?"

"He told us stories about our mother," Anna answered. "Several of them. To be honest? I don't think he had thought about her in years. It seemed painful for him to remember her."

"I don't know about that," Adam chimed in. "It is obvious to me, even as an outsider, that he loved Frances very much."

Raylan cocked an eyebrow, suddenly feeling he'd missed out on something. "What kind of stories did he tell?"

"Oh, about how they met." After taking a sip of her wine, Anna continued. "Did you know that our mother sought refuge at Noble's Holler, more than once?"

"No," Raylan said, giving Anna his full attention. "I didn't."

Carefully choosing her words, she went on. "The time we know about was when Arlo went to prison. There was another time when Arlo was still around. You were very little. Anyway, Nelson said the first time she arrived, she had been beaten."

Raylan set his jaw firm and clenched, a reflex that happened whenever he was pissed at Arlo . . . It still happened, even though is father was dead.

"Nelson said you weren't with Frances that time." She looked up and locked eyes with her brother. "Your father wouldn't allow her to take you from him."

The look on Raylan's face was one of being puzzled. "I don't remember."

"Probably because you were too young," Adam suggested, having had the luxury of some time to think about the story.

"Probably," Raylan agreed.

"Anyway, Nelson become friends with Frances when he would sneak over to your house and spy on you to make sure you were okay," Anna recanted. "He would return to the Holler and report back to our mother."

Raylan was quiet, taking it all in.

"He also said you were a good boy."

"Did he say anymore?" Raylan asked, surprised at his sudden thirst for information about his mother.

"No. But he wants me to come back tomorrow." She looked up at Raylan again. "Would you like to come with me?"

A little surprised at her offer, Raylan looked over at Adam, questioning with his eyes.

"That's a great idea," Adam volunteered. "Winona? Maybe you and I could go looking at wedding rings."

A gleam came to Winona's eye. "Raylan? Would you mind?"

Knowing Winona had far better taste than he when it came to the jewelry department, he said with a grin, "Naw. Just make sure ya' remember when looking for your sparkler that we need new furniture in our new place, too."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Finished nursing, Winona yawned and held a sleeping Willa out to her daddy, who lay her on her back in the port-a-crib before fetching himself a beer from the mini-fridge.

"Beer on top of all the wine we drank?" Winona smiled up at him.

"Worried I can't perform?" He raised an eyebrow and returned her grin.

She answered with a yawn. "I'm the one who can't perform," she said. "Can I have a rain check?"

"Absolutely." He flopped on the bed and propped himself up with several pillows. Winona snuggled up, her head on his chest. "Mind if I turn on the game?"

"Nope," she murmured, already drifting off.

Raylan slipped one arm around Winona and sipped his beer. He watched the game, keeping the volume low for his two sleeping ladies. He was just about to turn out the light and give in to drowsiness himself when his cell phone buzzed with a text.

Tim: _Heard about your transfer to the task force. Congrats._

Raylan typed back. _Thanks_

_You won't have me to kick around anymore. _ Tim added a winky face.

Raylan paused before responding, deciding to be serious with his fellow marshal for once. He typed quickly and hit send, before he could change his mind: _You always had my back, and I didn't make it easy_.

_No lie_.

_So, thanks._

_Aww...R u getting sentimental on me?_

_Goodnight, Timbo._

_I'm gonna kill Mulhoney._

Raylan chuckled and set the phone screen down on the nightstand. Reaching over, he turned out the light and tossed one of the extra pillows onto the floor. Excited as he was about the move to Washington and working with Anna, he hadn't thought about leaving Tim, Rachel, and Art. _Shit, _he thought. This isn't going to be easy.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

It was a little before nine the next morning when Raylan parked the Lincoln in front of Lazarus House. Anna opened her door, but he hesitated, his hands on the wheel.

"What's wrong?" Anna turned back to him, puzzled.

Raylan shook off the feeling of unease. "Nothin'. Let's go." Once through the entrance, he slid off the hat, turning it over in his hands as he gazed around the converted firehouse.

Easy jumped up from his seat behind the desk when he spotted them. "Welcome back, Ms. Rulé," He said. "I'll let Mr. Limehouse know you're here."

He hurried off down the narrow hall and Anna turned to see Raylan staring at the man's retreating back.

"Does Nelson allow guns in here?"

"Well, you're a LEO, like me, so I'm sure it's fine."

"Not talkin' about me," Raylan said.

Anna looked at him quizzically.

"That guy, Easy?" Raylan wasn't sure he had gotten the name. "He's packin'. Got it tucked into the back of his pants. Probably a 32."

"I didn't even notice," Anna said, chagrined. She was used to precise detective work, mostly involving computer research, search warrants, and endless paperwork. Usually the people she was going after were already identified. She didn't have to smoke them out, or be suspicious of everyone she encountered. And here, she was out of her element. Her guard was down. She wondered if Raylan ever let his guard down. She was beginning to realize that her brother approached his job in a much different way than she did.

"Are you always hyper aware of stuff like that?"

"I always do a visual check for weapons. It's a habit." Raylan shrugged. "I like to know what I'm up against. Maybe he has it for protection. This block is okay, but the area we just drove through is sketchy at best. It might be perfectly legal. I'm not up on concealed carry laws in Illinois."

"Do you think we should tell Nelson?"

"Let me feel him out on it," Raylan suggested. "I'll try to work it into the conversation." 

Easy returned. "Mr. Limehouse was on a conference call. He'll be out just as soon as he can. We got coffee in the kitchen if you want some."

Anna and Raylan answered him at the same time.

"No, thank you."

"That'd be great." Raylan caught his sister's eye.

"Um, sure," she said. "I guess I could take another cup."

Easy led the way back to the kitchen. This time, following along behind, Anna could easily make out the telltale bulge of the gun in the back of the young man's pants. She chided herself for being so self-absorbed that she hadn't noticed.

"Cream and sugar right there," Easy said, as he poured two cups of coffee from a glass carafe. He handed one to Raylan. "So, Nelson tells us you're a U.S. Marshal."

"Yep." Raylan turned his back to the man and spooned a generous amount of sugar into the brew.

"Must be interesting work."

"It has its moments." Raylan leaned against the counter and took a sip from his cup. The coffee was strong, and he added a bit of cream to cut the bitterness.

"What do you do here?" Anna asked. She preferred her coffee black, and this was nowhere near as strong as she was used to at the Bureau.

"James is Nelson's right hand man, and I'm James' right-hand man," Easy said with a smile.

Raylan shot the man a grin. "That's not exactly answerin' her question."

Easy shrugged. "I man the desk out front. I keep the time sheets for the work assignments. I fill in wherever I'm needed."

"There's some rough areas around here," Raylan noted. "You ever have any trouble?"

"We been broken into more'n once."

Anna walked around the kitchen, glancing down the hall as she passed the doorway. There was no sign of Nelson. "I'm surprised you don't have a guard or watchman," she said, coming back to lean against the counter next to Raylan.

"Mr. Nelson, he doesn't want nothin' like that," Easy said. "James tried to get him to get a carry-license, but he wouldn't hear it."

"Can't imagine he'd want any of the residents carryin' either then," Raylan said, meeting the young man's eyes.

Easy didn't back down or look away. "No, Sir. He wouldn't."

"There you are!" Nelson came in, extending his hand to Raylan. "Sorry about that. What do you think of the place? Did Easy here show you around?"

Raylan shook Nelson's hand. "We hadn't gotten past coffee."

"Well, come on then." Nelson led the way, showing off the center. He went farther than he had the first time he'd given Anna the tour. Upstairs, in the huge, empty, dormitory room, bunk beds lined both walls.

"This is where the men start the program," Nelson explained. "We have about ten individual rooms. They have to earn their privacy through work and good behavior."

Anna circled the pole in the middle of the floor, looking down to the entryway below.

Nelson chuckled. "Yes, in case you're wondering. We do use it. Sliding down that pole, if they want to, is the way the fellas leave on their last day."

"Have you ever . . .?" Anna raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, maybe . . . once or twice."

They came full circle back to the entrance hall, and he looked at Raylan expectantly.

"It's quite somethin'," he said. "I can see why you're so proud of the place."

The man beamed at the praise and turned to James, who was now manning the desk. Easy was nowhere to be seen.

"We're going to lunch." Nelson guided Anna out the door first, a hand on her shoulder. "Today, I'm taking you to Café Bella. It's a little further, so we'll take the 'L'." He led the way to the station, slid his pass through, and insisted on paying their fares.

Several young Hispanic men leaned against the railing as the three of them walked up the steps to the street. One looked Anna up and down and gave an approving low whistle. Nelson shot the kid a stern look.

"You got a problem, old man?" His friends stepped forward, crossing their arms over their chests in tandem.

Before Nelson could react, Raylan turned, lifting aside his jacket and exposing his badge and gun. "No problem, here. Right Gentlemen?"

The one who whistled spit on the sidewalk, inches from Raylan's foot.

"Nah, No problem." He sneered, then made a gesture to his buddies and they disappeared back down the stairs into the 'L'.

Anna watched Raylan's jaw tighten as he looked after them and worried for a moment that he might go looking for trouble. She wondered how many times he had, in the past. Taking a breath, she laid a hand on his arm. "Let it go,' she said. "They aren't worth it."

Wordlessly, he fell into step with her and Nelson.

"This used to be a nice neighborhood," Nelson said, as they continued on their way. "And it's on its way to being one again. But there's still a lot of gang activity in the area." He stopped under a broad green awning. "This restaurant has been here since the 1920's. Rumor has it Al Capone dined here." He winked.

The restaurant was old and ornate with dark wood and deep booths lining the wall, but the menu was surprisingly simple and the prices very reasonable. Once the waiter, who Raylan guessed to be as old as the restaurant, had taken their order, Nelson slipped a photo across the table to Raylan. "Thought you and Winona might like to have this."

Raylan took the colored Polaroid. It was faded, but clearly a picture of his mother and himself as a young boy.

"Oh, look," Anna pointed at the photo, leaning in close to her brother for a better look. "I'd know that hat anywhere."

"That picture was taken in 1973."

Raylan squinted as he looked on the bottom of the picture. The ink long ago faded, the year was etched into the white border.

Nelson continued, "You couldn't have been any older than 3. Your mother carried that picture around with her, in her purse. I remember she told me that you got that cowboy hat for Christmas."

"I don't remember," Raylan mumbled, scrutinizing the photograph.

The waiter arrived with their lunch. He placed the Caribbean jerk chicken with mashed potatoes in front of Raylan, and fettuccine Alfredo in front of both Anna and Nelson. Both Raylan and Anna noticed there was no alcohol served. This place specialized in juices and fancy coffee drinks. They all decided to stick with water.

Raylan returned his attention to the photo and the little white cowboy hat. Even then, he was one of the good guys. Frances was dressed in a yellow pantsuit and matching platform sandals with a square heel. The pants had big, flared bell bottoms. Her hair was pinned up. _She was pretty_, he thought. They looked happy.

"I can't believe how much Willa looks like you," Anna remarked, twirling her pasta onto her fork. "All this time, I thought she was the spitting image of Winona, but I can see where she looks like you, too, at that age. The shape of her jawline. The mouth. The smile. Blonde curls, peeking out from under that hat."

"She's better off lookin' more like her momma," Raylan countered. Changing the subject, he asked Nelson, "How did ya' come into possession of the picture?"

"As I said, Frances carried it with her. She was proud of it because she bought you the hat with her own money. Money she earned when she worked for us." Taking a sip of water to swallow the lump that formed in his throat, Nelson went on. "The first time your mother came to us, Arlo wouldn't allow her to take you with her. But then, one day, word came that you'd become very sick. It was your adenoids. Arlo wasn't about to take care of a sick kid, so he came for your mother in the middle of the night."

Raylan sighed and rolled his eyes in disgust. "Once again, that sounds like Arlo."

"He gave her two minutes to pack up her belongings and go with him. She inadvertently left the photograph behind." Taking another sip of the water, he said, "They had to take you to the hospital that night. You had your tonsils and adenoids removed."

Raylan looked up at Nelson. "I remember that," he said, sounding surprised at himself. "Havin' to stay in the hospital. Mama stayed with me. And I remember havin' one of _the_ worst sore throats of my life. She would give me Life Savers to suck on. "

Nelson nodded his head, happy he was finally making a connection with Raylan.

Raylan leaned back in his chair. "I remember she promised me guns with holsters when I came home from the hospital, too. To go with my hat. And she bought me cap pistols."

"That's right," Nelson smiled. "And that was the last time I saw her until she returned to Nobles, a couple of years later. Anyway, Foxy held onto that photograph for her. But when Frances returned, Foxy forgot to give it to her. Her memory wasn't as good as it had been. When your mother and I parted ways for the last time, I was a mess. At one point, Foxy came across the pictures she kept all these years. Gave them to me. I didn't know she had them. And now? I'm giving them to you and Anna. Seems like I've been holding them for all these years to give them to you."

"We don't want to take all your pictures," Anna said. She could see how much they meant to him. "We can get copies made while we're here. That way, there will be copies for each of us."

Nelson smiled. "That's a fine idea."

"I know Winona will be thrilled. Her parents have tons of pictures of her," Raylan said, carefully placing the photo in his inside jacket pocket and finally digging into his lunch. "She's never said much, but I can tell it bothers her that there are so few pictures of me when I was very young. I have school pictures. Baseball team pictures. My Aunt Helen saw to that."

"She wants them for Willa, right?" Anna asked.

"Mmmmm hmmm," Raylan nodded, his mouth full of the rustic mashed potatoes.

The three finished their delicious meal, peppered with a little more conversation about Frances, until Nelson glanced at his watch. The time had flown, and he had a meeting scheduled that afternoon with a donor and needed to get back to work. The conversation had been so pleasant, in stark contrast to the night Anna first met Nelson. Raylan thought better of bringing up Easy and the gun.

A short time later, they exited the 'L' and continued their short walk. As they turned the corner and started back toward the old firehouse, Raylan stopped in his tracks and pushed the brim of his hat slightly up.

"Well, shit," he said, staring at the spot where the Lincoln had been parked.

_(To be continued . . . )_


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

_Connect the Dots_

"_U.S. Marshals Service, victim of car prowl, looking for a smash-and-grab suspect,"_ Adam read from the morning paper. _"A thief made off with a deputy U.S. marshal's tactical gear in downtown Chicago early Tuesday in what authorities are describing as the random smash-and-grab theft of an unmarked car._

_The U.S. Marshals Service was working near Walnut Street at about 3:15 p.m. when someone broke a window of the vehicle. The suspect made off a tactical vest that held body armor, a Taser, ammunition, magazines, a knife and a radio."_

"Not to mention a gently used baby stroller," Winona interjected, glancing up at Raylan who let out a long sigh.

Adam continued reading. _"No firearms were stolen and the radio was quickly disabled after the theft," the Marshals Service reported in a news release. "This appears to be a random 'smash and grab' theft and not a targeted event. The investigation is ongoing."_

_Marshals pointed out that they were working in the neighborhood at the time of the car prowl and observed the suspect vehicle as it sped away. Police searched the area but did not locate the suspect, who was described as driving a gray four-door Toyota 4-Runner that appeared to be an early 1990s model._

_The Toyota reportedly had a loud muffler. Investigators found surveillance footage of the car. _

_Crime Stoppers is offering a cash reward of up to $1,000 for information that it receives resulting in an arrest. Tipsters may remain anonymous. _

_Tips can be left by text, in English or Spanish, at CRIMES (274637). Police suggest putting 823HELP in the subject line, followed by the tip."_

"Are ya' done havin' your fun?" Raylan asked, clearly not enjoying the razzing.

"Not quite," Winona said, taking a sip of her coffee. "Did you call Art yet?"

"I did," he said to her surprise. "Turns out the car is the least of my worries. It had so many miles on it, Art said I would have been turnin' in a piece of shit. This way? His office, I mean, _he_ gets a brand new car when I'm officially transferred." Under his breath, he continued with, "Which should be about any day now, after this."

"Was he mad?" Winona softened. She knew how Art's disapproval could get to him.

Raylan shrugged his shoulders. "Mad? Art gets a brand new car." Then, he proudly nodded. "And he even commended me for keepin' my firearm outta this mess."

"Have the local cops had any luck finding your car . . . or what's left of it?" asked Adam, familiar with what usually happened to stolen cars in the big city.

"The investigation's been turned over to the Chicago Marshal's office," Raylan answered. "I'm surprised they haven't called."

"It's only a little after eight," Anna said after glancing at her watch.

Willa grabbed at the muffin on her mama's plate, and Winona broke off a piece and fed it to her.

Raylan reached over and ruffled Willa's hair with a broad hand. "You got us up mighty early this mornin', pretty girl."

"You didn't sleep that much anyway," Winona gently chided.

Anna came into the room, slipping her cell into the pocket of her jacket, her brow furrowed. "That was Nelson." She took the chair beside Adam and across from Raylan. "Easy hasn't shown back up. He tried to talk to James about it but said James clammed right up and then left. Nelson's pretty upset." She chewed her bottom lip.

"You think Easy had something to do with the car?" Adam slipped an arm around Anna.

"He was carryin' a gun, and Nelson had no idea," Raylan answered. "The kid as much as lied to me about it in a conversation we had. Then, we left for lunch and, when we got back, the car was gone." He poured another splash of cream into his coffee. "And so was Easy."

"You don't think . . . No." Adam couldn't even verbalize the thought.

Anna finished it for him. "That Nelson's involved?"

Winona's brow frowned, sensing a possible disagreement between brother and sister.

"We don't know that," Raylan answered, hanging his head and clenching his jaw.

Winona silently noted that Raylan refrained from blurting out what he really thought, and her brow began to relax. She surmised the only reason he would do so was to spare Anna's feelings.

Anna sighed. "No. Raylan's right. We can't know that." After a beat, all she could say was, "We don't the man. We've known him . . . what? All of a few days?" Her stomach suddenly went sour at the thought. After initially putting up such a tough front, she had let her guard down and become somewhat fond of the man over the past days of stories and photographs.

Raylan gave his sister a side-ways glance. "Mebe we just go and ask him? We didn't come right out and ask him, directly, if he was involved."

"You think he'd tell us? An FBI Agent and a US Marshal?"

Clarifying his statement, he answered, "No. We take off our LEO hats, and we talk to him . . . like kin."

"Okay." Anna sounded unconvinced. After a long silence, she added, "Let's do it."

"I suppose we're free to go looking at rings, again," Winona said out of the side of her mouth to Adam. Finished with her meal, she reached over and lifted Willa out of her high chair.

Hearing her, Raylan reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a loving squeeze. "I didn't even ask ya'. Did ya' find anything ya' liked, yesterday?"

She answered with, "Not anything that would make Karen Goodall gasp."

Anna put her fingers to her mouth and chuckled.

"So, that's the criteria now?" Raylan grinned. "Suddenly, I'm afraid. I'm very afraid."

"You should be, Cowboy," Winona steadied Willa, who was seated on her lap, and handed her the monkey. "You know Karen," Winona diverted her attention to Anna. "What kind of a ring do you think would make the woman sit up and take notice? I mean, what's her taste in clothing?"

"Hmmmm," Anna thought with the smile still on her face at the thought of the Task Force lead becoming jealous. "The suits and slacks she wears aren't off the rack. She's petite, like you. I'd say she wears high-end designer suits at her executive level. Everything is beautifully tailored."

"Custom," Adam translated. "Maybe you should design something, Winona?" He thought he would have loved to design Anna's ring, if he'd thought of it.

"Yeah," Winona nodded. "Maybe that's why I didn't fall in love with anything I saw yesterday. We looked at so many. After a while, one ring looked like another . . . looked like another."

"Isn't custom made jewelry _really_ expensive?" Raylan asked with great concern.

"Well, yeah," Winona nodded again. "That's the idea. Something beautiful _and_ . . . unique." She glanced over to Adam. "Ethan Lord had a designer on site."

"Want to go back there?" Adam glanced at his watch. "They open at 10. Want me to call and see if we can get an appointment, today? I'll entertain Miss Willa so you can have some time with the designer."

"Sounds good," she said, liking the idea. "But don't go too far away. I value your opinion."

Giving her shoulder another squeeze, Raylan leaned in closer to Winona and said, "Just don't go breakin' the bank."

"Tsk," she snorted. "That's exactly what I'll tell the designer. That _'I want a ring that will knock the socks off my fiancée's old, rich bitch girlfriend, yet won't break the bank. Do you think you could help me?'_"

"You're funny," Raylan deadpanned, while Anna and Adam burst into laughter. Willa joined in and laughed, thinking surely they were all laughing just for her. She shook the monkey upside down and cheered, "Yeh-yeh-yeh."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"The three stone engagement ring is quite popular." The jewelry designer laid several settings on the dark blue velvet in front of Winona. "But the vintage look is gaining quite an upscale following. The settings are very unique."

Winona slipped one of the vintage bands onto her finger and held her hand out in front of her, then did the same with the other. "I thought I was a modern woman, but I really like this vintage one."

"I thought you might," the man said. "We can do something like that in a custom. How many carets are you thinking?" He slipped another velvet tray out of the case showing her diamonds of all shapes and sizes.

She glanced at the stones. "They're all gorgeous."

The designer studied her the size of her hand and ring finger for scale. Using a pair of tweezers, he turned one square cut stone over. "1.75 carats," he said. "It would look absolutely magnificent on your hand in one of the vintage settings."

"Adam," Winona called. "Come see."

Adam came over, carrying Willa, their only option since the stroller was gone. Willa reached her arms out to her mama, and Winona took her, bouncing the baby against her shoulder. "What do you think?"

"If you're still talking about knocking Karen's socks off, I think that ought to do the trick," Adam said.

"Okay," Winona met the jeweler's gaze. "This diamond, vintage setting . . . how much?"

"Gold, platinum, or palladium?"

"Platinum," Adam whispered.

"That diamond, platinum vintage setting . . .," the man pulled out a tablet computer and tapped the screen several times before turning it and showing it to Winona. "Something like this?"

"Oh, it's gorgeous!" Winona gasped.

He tapped the screen again, and a printer beeped to life behind him. He slid the picture of the ring, which included all the dimensions, the diamond's '4-C's,' and her choice of setting, across the counter.

Winona picked up the paper and studied the ring. "I _love_ it."

"Good." The designer beamed and looked up. "A woman should love her engagement ring, don't you agree?" He winked at Adam. "And not have to worry about price."

"Oh, yeah," Adam said. "But I'm not her fiancé."

"Oh!" The man exclaimed, flustered, his eyes dropped down to Willa. "I assumed . . ."

"My fiancé is tied up, and Adam is filling in, giving me a second opinion." Willa fussed and Winona patted her back, thinking they probably should head back. The little one was due for a diaper change. "I'll take him the picture and show him what I've picked out. How much would this be?"

"$12, 889," he rattled off the figure, not batting an eye. "Plus tax, of course. We also offer a five-year replacement policy if the stone is lost for $1,000."

Winona paled. "Um . . ." She chewed her lip and looked down at the tray, pointing to a smaller diamond. "What about this one, in a white gold setting?"

Reluctantly, the designer placed the larger diamond aside. "This is a very pretty stone," he said. "1.5 carats, and in a white gold setting that would be around $8,300."

"Could you print that one out for me, too?"

"Certainly." The designer printed out her second choice, jotted the price at the bottom of the paper and attached his card. "Have your fiancé ask for me."

"I will," Winona said. "Thank you for your help." She glanced wistfully between the two pictures. The first ring _was _gorgeous, but the price was just too much. She shouldn't need to impress Karen. After all, she had Raylan. That was enough. The second ring was much more practical. She folded the paper with the smaller ring and slipped it into her purse.

"Thank you again," she said, shaking the jeweler's hand.

"You're welcome."

She stooped for the diaper bag, but Adam beat her to it. "I got this." With Winona's back to him, Adam caught the eye of the man behind the counter. Smiling, the designer slid the first paper across the glass. Adam folded it and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The cab ride over to Lazarus House was quiet.

Raylan was the one who finally broke the silence. "I'll ask him. You shouldn't have to do it."

"Thank you," Anna said, hugging herself.

"No problem," he went on to say, "This is personal. It's not an investigation."

She looked at him, appreciative of the fact he was trying to let her off the hook. She certainly did not feel much like a Special Agent these days. Raylan was right. This _was_ personal.

"But it could become one."

"Hey." He reached over and placed a firm hand on her arm. "We'll cross that bridge, when and if we come to it."

After they arrived, they entered to find a new man, a clean-cut African American, manning the reception desk.

Taking off the hat, Raylan explained, "We have an appointment with Nelson Limehouse. He's expectin' us."

"Wait just a minute," the young man said and picked up the phone to announce their arrival.

A few minutes later, Nelson came out and escorted them back to his office.

"Have ya' heard from Easy?" Raylan asked.

"No," Nelson said, firmly. His face was still filled with disappointment, the same as when they'd left him the day before.

"I didn't think so," Raylan said, under his breath.

"How about you?" Nelson talked as they walked down the now familiar corridor. "Any word on your car?"

"Nope," Raylan responded. "No word on that front, either. Although I do know that I am the laughin' stock of the Chicago Marshal Service for losin' my car, gear, and all."

Raylan and Anna took a seat in front of Nelson's desk.

"Look. I need to ask ya' somethin' that ya' may not want to answer," Raylan began. "But I also want to assure ya' that Anna and I are not here as law enforcement. We're here as your kin."

Nelson, looked over at Anna. She gave him a nod of confirmation. He returned it with a weak smile. "Okay. Shoot."

"I told ya' yesterday that I saw the outline of a gun in Easy's clothin'. It was clear he was armed, and it was clear that he lied to us when we asked him about it. He's under your charge. So, it begs an obvious question: Are you involved in this?"

Nelson shot him a look. "Involved? No," he said, firmly. "I'm embarrassed that I didn't know what was going on. Right under my nose. But no, to answer your question." He turned his eyes to Anna's, pleading, "I'm not involved."

"We had to ask," she explained.

"I understand," Nelson nodded. "I told the Marshal Service the same thing."

"Good," Raylan said.

Nelson rubbed the side of his head with his hand. "I've been wracking my brain, trying to think of anything that might help."

"Did Easy have any friends here?" Anna asked.

"Yes. He hung out with two young men," Nelson recalled. "Both were at Lazarus House, but left about a year ago. One is Ronald T. Moorehouse. He goes by the name of "Taco." The other is Louis Rice. On the street, he goes by "Twankie."

"Twankie?" Raylan cocked an eyebrow. "As in Hostess Twinkie?"

"It means a twenty," Nelson explained, somewhat amused. "As in a twenty dollar bill."

"Oh. As in someone who likes to make twenties?" Raylan asked.

"That would be my assumption," Nelson concurred.

"Maybe 'Twankie' likes to make _a lot_ of twenties," Anna surmised.

Nelson volunteered, "Louis' brother was a member of the Black Disciples."

"Was?" Raylan asked, familiar with the gang, as they had members is Lexington.

"His brother was killed by a rival gang, Folk Nation. Assassinated. Shot in the head at point blank range." Nelson bit his lip. He wasn't used to talking about such things.

"How do you manage to operate in gang territory?" Anna asked.

"We take care of them," Nelson explained, very matter-of-factly. "We take care of their drug addicted. In exchange, they leave us alone."

"Do they offer ya' some kinda protection?" Raylan asked.

"No," Nelson bristled. "They leave us alone."

"Mmm-kay. I believe ya'," Raylan said, in a firm, calm voice. Then, after a beat, he asked, "Where's your right-hand man? Can we talk to him?"

"James?" Nelson asked. "He had to take care of some family business in Milwaukee. Said he'd be away for a few days."

"Don't ya' find the timin' of his urgent family matter to be a little odd?" Raylan screwed up his face. "Considerin' what happened yesterday?"

Nelson sat forward in his chair, leaning onto his forearms on the desk. "I trust James. I've known him for a long time. He wouldn't have anything to do with the theft of your car. He's not affiliated with any gang."

"Pardon us for asking these question," Anna offered. "We feel like we need to understand what is going on, including _all_ the players."

"I understand," Nelson nodded to his daughter.

"I still contend there is no such thing as a coincidence," Raylan remained firm. "And I don't mean to sound disparagin' about you as a judge of character. But in our line of work? A plus B always adds up to C." He leaned back in his seat and propped his leg up on his knee, at the ankle. "I believe you're not involved in anything . . . neither guns nor auto theft. But Easy wouldn't have had access to anything here if he hadn't been given a job in your administration area. Mannin' your reception desk. He sees who comes in and out of here, at what time. He answers your calls, knows your schedule." After another beat, he came right out and asked, "Who gave Easy the job at the front desk? Whose decision was it to put him there?"

Nelson swallowed. "James hired him from applications among our charges. But in the end, I take responsibility for that decision. I take responsibility for _every_ decision made on behalf of Lazarus House."

"And therein lies the problem," Raylan explained, his eyebrows arching for emphasis. "If it's not you . . . and we have no reason to believe it is . . . we need to speak with your trusted number two man, James. Again, I find it more than coincidental, I find it _odd_ that he's not here."

"We connect dots," Anna explained. "Wherever they might lead."

A weighty sigh escaped Nelson's lips, and for the first time, doubt slowly poured over his face. Maybe he didn't know James as well as he thought he did.

_(To be continued . . . )_


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

_Between a Rock and a Rodent_

"Can I help you?" An attractive older woman, short gray hair framing a face with wide eyes almost as blue as Winona's, accosted them as soon as they walked through the door.

Raylan shook the rain off his hat and gave the woman a nod. He glanced into the display case. No prices. Experience told him no prices meant high prices. Very high. No wonder they were the only customers in the place. Of course, it was only a little after ten. They had dropped Winona, Anna, and the baby at the Art Institute, promising to meet them later for lunch.

"Just lookin'," Raylan flashed the saleslady a grin.

Adam studied a glass case full of watches. "Does anyone even wear these anymore?" he asked, soft voiced since the woman was still hovering. In answer, Raylan tugged up the sleeve of his jacket, showing his.

"Okay, Old Man," Adam chuckled.

"Go ahead. Make fun of me. When some electromagnetic pulse from outer-space zaps all your fancy electronics, I'll still know what time it is."

"Yes, but it won't matter anymore."

Laughing, Raylan pulled the folded paper out of his pocket. "She really liked this one, huh?"

"Yep. She just lit up when he showed her the picture."

"Lit me up, too. That's a helluva lot of money," he said. "But, I s'pose she deserves it after all I've put her through." He sighed. "Might as well bite the bullet. Do ya' see the guy ya' talked to yesterday?"

"There he is," Adam said, nodding his head toward the back. "He's the one Winona worked with yesterday." Spotting Adam, the man smiled and moved toward the front of the store.

"I'll get this, Madalyn," he said, as he passed the woman.

She frowned, sorry to lose a potential customer, but retreated behind the counter.

The salesman smiled and held out his hand to Raylan. "You must be the lucky man."

"I'd say you're the lucky one, makin' this sale," Raylan responded.

"Well, yes, I suppose I am. Right this way, and I'll go over our process with you." Raylan followed him to the back and reluctantly sat in one of the over-stuffed chairs while the man went on about color, cut, and clarity and showed him the setting Winona had chosen.

"The design process takes about a week, so including the finishing touches we should have the ring ready for you by . . ." He paused and flipped a page on his calendar. "The 29th?"

Raylan ran a hand through his hair. "Anyway you could speed the process up? We gotta be headin' back to Kentucky here in the next few days and I was hopin' to have it ready for her before then."

"Art and quality cannot be rushed."

Raylan didn't really see what could take so long. "Ya' got the setting and the diamond right here. Can't ya' just put the two together and . . ."

"Perhaps I can help?" It was the woman from earlier. Ignoring the stony glare of her co-worker, she went on. "I'm sure we can find you something up front that you could give to her today." She took the glasses from around her neck and slipped them on. "Is this the ring?"

"That's the ring she designed with _me,"_ the salesman pouted. "You can't just interrupt my sale . . ."

He stood and then Raylan followed suit. "Nothin' against ya," he said. "But I really do need somethin' I can take sooner rather than later."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-

Over an hour later, Raylan and Adam exited the store into hazy sunshine. The skies were clear but lingering humidity made the air thick. Raylan felt the sweat trickle down his neck and reached up to loosen his tie. He heard a beep and Adam pulled his phone from his pocket. As he stepped toward the curb to hail a cab, Adam grabbed his elbow.

"The girls are at Gino's East. It's right around the corner, so we can walk. Give you time to think up your proposal."

"Huh?" Raylan asked. "I already proposed. She accepted. Twice, as a matter of fact." He mumbled the last part under his breath.

The light changed, and they crossed Michigan Avenue, turning onto a narrow street, shadowed by skyscrapers. The shade was a welcome relief, and they picked up their pace.

"So, what?" Adam chuckled. "You're just going hand her the ring? That's real romantic."

Raylan patted his jacket pocket. The ring was there, tucked into its dark blue velvet box, waiting. The design wasn't exactly like the one Winona picked out, but it was close. And by avoiding the expense of a custom ring, he had been able to get a bigger diamond _and_ a matching wedding band, in platinum like she wanted.

"This is it," Adam said, taking several steps down into a below street entrance. "Are you going to give it to her now or wait? I mean, I understand if you want to be alone but if it's not going to be a big romantic moment, Anna and I would love to . . ."

"Shut up, Adam."

"_O-_kay." The younger man shot him a sideways glance, not sure if his soon-to-be-brother-in-law was joking. Noting the tension in Raylan's jaw, he wisely reined in his enthusiasm. As their eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting inside the restaurant, they saw hands waving from a booth near the back. Willa pounded on the tray of the high chair when she saw her daddy."

"Dadadadada!" She squealed gleefully, looking up at him with big blue eyes.

"Hey there, little girl." Raylan bent and kissed the top of her head, managing to keep her from grabbing the hat at the same time. He slid into the booth next to Winona and gave her a quick kiss as well.

"Mission accomplished," Adam said, giving Anna a wink.

Winona cocked her head and held out her hand, palm up. "I'll be the judge of that. Let me see."

Raylan caught Adam's eye. "And you thought _I _wasn't romantic."

"Oh, you're plenty romantic when it counts, Cowboy. Now, show me the ring."

"Okay, okay," he laughed, reaching into his pocket for the box. As he did, his cell phone vibrated. "Just a sec." He turned his back to the booth and ducked his head to hear. "Hello?"

"Is this Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens of the Lexington division?"

Yeah, this is Deputy Marshal Givens. Who's this?"

"Deputy Marshal Chet Almada, Chicago. We found your stolen Lincoln."

"You did? Where?"

"Chop shop on the east side. Lotta local gangs use it. Guy who runs it keeps us in the loop – even let one of our guys go undercover there for a while - so we give him a bit of leeway."

"Got an address?" Grabbing a napkin from the table he snagged a pen from a passing waitress and jotted down the information. "Thanks for lettin' me know."

"These things turn over pretty quickly," Almada said. "I'm afraid there's not much left of your vehicle. We got some partial fingerprints. We're running them now."

"You'll let me know what you find out?"

"Sure will. Sorry your stay in the Windy City had to include this."

"You'n me both." Raylan hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket just as the waitress set their pizza on the table. He leaned in to Winona. "Can I grab a slice to go? They found the Lincoln at a chop shop. I wanna get there before they turn it into scrap."

"I'll go with you," Anna said, bumping her hip against Adam to get out of the booth.

"Great." Raylan used the spatula to slide a thick slice of pizza onto a doubled napkin. "I'll just eat this in the cab."

"Hold on," Winona said, glaring up at him.

"What?" He took a bite and glanced toward the door.

"The ring!" She held out her hand again.

"Oh, you wanna _see_ it?" He set the pizza down, slipped the small box out of his pocket, and popped it open. "There ya' go." Her eyes widened, and he snapped the box shut, sliding it back into his jacket. He leaned in and kissed her. "Gotta go."

"But . . ." She stared after him.

"Hey," he called back over his shoulder. "You saw it."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Claim ticket?" The burly man at the impound desk, with a name tag that said 'Sam,' and a thick Chi Town accent held out his hand in anticipation of taking the ticket, as he eyed Raylan, up and down. The man thought Raylan looked like a duck out of water with the hat on his head and his boots on is feet in the heat of the day . . . accompanied by a tall, attractive African American woman who was dressed more appropriately for the weather.

"Here ya' go," Raylan said, pulling his wallet out his back pocket and flashing his badge. "_This _is my ticket."

The Southern accent confirmed to Sam that this man was not from around this part of the country. "The car's already been taken over to the scrap yard. Follow me."

Raylan and Anna struggled to keep up with the man's quickened pace.

"We'd better hurry, before it's too late," the man huffed and puffed.

Anna asked, "What do you mean? _Before it's too late?"_

The man's face was becoming red. "Before what was left of the vehicle goes into the crusher."

Upon hearing that, the three began jogging in double time. It must have been at least a mile from the entrance of the salvage yard to the back of the lot. The noise from the crusher and the forklifts became louder and louder.

As they slowed upon reaching their destination, Anna looked up at the mountains and mountains of car frames that surrounded them.

"Hey, Jack!" Sam bellowed over all the noise. "I need you to find a frame. A Lincoln Town Car. Federal issue. It came in earlier this morning."

From his forklift, Jack looked at the ticket number. "It's over there!" he yelled, pointing to a shorter stack over to his left and handing back the ticket.

Sam led Anna and Raylan to the stack, and they watched as he scanned the frames. "This one is yours!"

"How can ya' tell?" Raylan asked. They all looked pretty much the same to him. Nothing was distinguishable . . . until he saw his license plate. "Well, shit!"

The wheels had already been removed. It looked as if it had already been completely stripped for parts.

"It was like this when we got it!" Sam yelled, almost reading the marshal's mind.

"From the Marshals Service?" Anna yelled.

"No!" Sam yelled, motioning them further away from the crusher. "From a local tweaker by the name of 'Baskin!' He brings in scrap metal, cars for cash!"

"'Baskin?! What kind of a name is that?!" Rayland asked.

"As in Baskin and Robbins? The ice cream place!"

"Oh!" Raylan reacted.

Anna laughed and turned to her brother. "Right up your alley!" she shouted.

"Then, can ya' tell me where we can find this tweaker?!" Raylan asked Sam, still shouting.

"I hear he's with the 48th Street Disciples! He's a little punk who's always as high as a kite. Heroin would be my guess, the way he peddles the metal!"

"Would ya' show me where that is on a map?!" Raylan asked, pushing his hat back off his sweating forehead.

"Sure!"

And the three walked back to the office at a much slower clip. Once inside, Sam pulled out a map and circled where they were at the salvage yard . . . and where they wanted to go on 45th Street.

"How about a physical description of this Baskin dude?" Raylan asked.

"He's African American. Kind of a short, heavy set guy. Maybe 5 feet 5 inches tall. 180 pounds."

"Distinguishing marks? Tattoos?" Anna asked.

"Not that I could see," Sam answered. "But he does walk around with a ferret on his shoulder."

"A ferret?" Raylan asked, making a face. "Isn't it like a rat?"

"More like a weasel," Sam corrected the marshal.

"Fittin'," Raylan smirked. "Do ya' happen to have an address on file for him?" Raylan continued to pepper Sam with questions.

"Not one I have any reason to believe is legit. Like I said, the guy comes in. Waits for his cash and then, splits." Sam leaned onto the counter. "It's not worth my time or safety to ask questions of known gang members."

Anna shifted her weight. "Have you been threatened?"

"Not directly. But I've lived in this area all my life. And I know better than to mess with The Disciples."

"Tough bunch, huh?" Raylan glared.

Sam shook his head. "Oh. You don't want to cross them."

Raylan tipped his hat and said, "We'll make sure to keep that in mind."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

What should have been a fifteen minute drive turned into over an hour, solely because of the traffic. Raylan had the idea of stopping to get some ice cream to possibly entice Baskin into a conversation, but the traffic and rising heat of the day made him think better of making the stop that would only result in melted ice cream.

Despite a visual effort to revitalize the area with remodeled row houses, gang presence was alive and well on E. 45th Street, especially near MLK Boulevard. A run down World Church had some obvious drug activity going on, right in the middle of the street.

"Raylan. Look!" Anna pointed from the passenger seat of the rental car to a young man fitting the description, sporting a ferret no less.

A young man meeting Baskin's description was standing on the corner with two other thuggy looking guys, buying a packet of what appeared to be heroin. The two suppliers were obviously packing heat in their pants that were pulled down to their hip bones.

Anna remarked, "Looks like Baskin scored his next fix."

"Looks like," Raylan said, as he slowed his speed, pulled up along the corner, and lowered the window on Anna's side of the car. His hand was on his weapon, at the ready.

"Excuse me!" he shouted through Anna's car window. "Would ya' mind tellin' me where you got the ferret? I've always wanted one of those!"

The two other guys, who couldn't have been more than 15-years-old and were finished with their transaction, took off on foot. Higher than a kite, Baskin approached their vehicle.

"You into ferrets?" he asked. "You don't seem the type."

"Yeah? What's the type?" Raylan leaned over Anna, closer to the window.

"You gotta be cool. Like me."

Raylan asked, "What's your ferret's name?"

"Captain Crunch," the young man answered. "And he's _not_ for sale."

"That's cool, man." Raylan smiled. "Hello there, Captain Crunch." Then, staring up at Baskin, he asked, "Do ya' feed him the cereal?"

"No, mane," Baskin scowled, looking over at Anna. "You don't ever feed cereal to a ferret. He likes cat food."

Raylan continued to banter. "Cat food? Like Little Friskies?"

"Yeah. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got some business to attend to."

"Whoa. Hold on there," Raylan tried to stop him with his words. "I want to ask ya' somethin'."

"Yeah?" Baskin turned around so that he and Captain Crunch again faced their car.

"What do you know about Lazarus House?" Anna asked.

"Don't know nothin' about no Lazarus House." Baskin spit between his teeth, on the ground.

"Well, what do ya' know about a stolen Lincoln that belongs to a U.S. Marshal?" After a beat he added, "Like the one you sold for scrap this mornin'?"

"I heard somethin' about a marshal's car bein' lifted." Baskin looked him up and down, as Raylan stepped out of the car, motor running. Glassy eyed, the young man smiled, revealing a gold tooth. "Are you the marshal who lost his car?"

"I might be," Raylan answered, slowly approaching the high young man. "So, tell me. Where did ya' get the car?"

"Look, mane. I just do as I'm told. And I don't remember where I picked it up. Ya' see, I was pretty fuckin' lit this morning."

Coming closer to the street gangster, Raylan said, pointing, "Lookin' at your eyes? I'd say ya' still are. Lit that is."

Just at that moment, the ferret lunged and bit Raylan's outstretched index finger.

"Son of a bitch!" Raylan swore, recoiling his digit.

"Captain, how many times do I got to tell you not to do that?" Baskin play scolded the ferret.

Shaking his finger in pain, with little drops of blood coming from the teeth marks that broke the skin, Raylan grabbed his clean handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around the finger. "Has Captain Crunch had all his shots?"

"What shots? Ferrets don't need no shots."

Anna was way ahead of Raylan, quickly entering information into her smart phone. "When's the last time you had a tetanus shot?"

"Last time I took a bullet," Raylan answered.

"Hmmm. It mentions rabies," she said, continuing to read from Web MD. "How does the ferret look to you, Raylan? Look at its eyes."

"It looks like a ferret. Beady eyes," Raylan said under his breath. "So back to you, Baskin."

"You know my name?"

"Yep. You're world famous. Now, about the car. Isn't your gang a rival of Folk Nation?" Raylan asked.

Basking scowled. "Mister? You really don't want to be askin' about them around here. Know what I mean?"

"Baskin? Do you know a guy name Twankie or another one named Taco?" Anna asked from the car.

"Yeah. We understand Twankie had a brother in the Disciples," Raylan added. "You might as well tell me what I need to know. Or I'll run ya' in for assaultin' a U.S. Marshal."

"What the fuck?" Baskin was tripping. "I didn't … assault … you."

"Yeah, but Captain Crunch here, did. And you're his owner." Raylan continued, "You are armed with a ferret who hasn't had its shots. So, I guess I'm gonna have to haul both of ya' in."

"No, mane," the guy started tweaking, mostly worried about what would happen to his bag of dope. "Look. I think I remember now. Yeah. Uh. Twankie Mane, of Folk Nation? He owed the Disciples a favor."

"What kinda favor?" Raylan asked.

"His life," Baskin answered. "So, word is on the street? He stole the car and turned it over to the Disciples. To wipe out a debt. Because it was a cop car? He got double points."

"Double points?" Raylan squinted.

"You know. In cred."

"Street cred," Raylan elaborated.

Then, Baskin asked Raylan. "Are you going after Twankie?"

"Do ya' think I'd tell ya' if I was?" Raylan turned around and headed back to the car. "Ya' look like you're due for another fix here at any time. Ya' won't remember this conversation. Just like you don't remember where you picked up the car this mornin'."

"Damn straight," Baskin nodded. "You is damn straight."

Raylan put the car in 'Drive.'

As they took off, Anna continued reading from her smart phone, "_All_ animal bites need to be checked out by a doctor."

"Shit," Raylan muttered, as he headed for the nearest Emergency Room. "Winona's gonna have my hide."

_(To be continued . . .)_


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

_Best Laid Plans_

Raylan entered to find the main room of the suite dark. He tossed the hat on the dresser and shrugged out of his jacket. Hearing water splashing, he pushed open the bathroom door, expecting to find Winona giving Willa her bath. Instead, Winona was alone in the Jacuzzi tub, up to her neck in bubbles. One hand rested on the rim of the tub, fingers wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. She smiled up at him.

"Well, hello Cowboy."

He craned his neck over his shoulder, but the port-a-crib was empty. "Where's Willa?"

Her smile widened. "Adam offered his and Anna's babysitting services for the evening. Wasn't that nice of him?"

"Uh-huh." He pulled off his tie and hung it on the doorknob.

"And Walter sent up this delicious Pinot Noir." She took a sip. "Why don't you pour yourself a glass? That is, if we have something to celebrate."

"If?" He raised an eyebrow.

She waved the fingers of her left hand at him. "Of course. I've got no actual physical evidence that there's anything to celebrate."

Chuckling, he leaned through the doorway and felt in his jacket pocket for the ring. "This what you're talkin' about?" He held up the velvet box.

She took another sip of wine and closed her eyes, leaning back in the tub. "The next time I see that ring," she said, waggling her hand again. "It better be on my finger."

Taking the wine glass from her hand, he finished the contents in one swallow and set the glass behind him on the counter, next to the open bottle.

Her eyes blinked open. "Liquid courage?" She smiled.

"Nothin' to be afraid of," he said, fiddling with the ring box in his hand.

"Have you got a question for me?"

"Is your water hot enough?" He feigned concern. "Wouldn't want you to catch a chill."

"The water's fine, Raylan," she said. "I might even let you join me if . . ." she raised an eyebrow.

He sighed, shaking his head. "You're really gonna make me do this again?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I think I am."

"Well, alright then." He crouched beside the tub and popped the velvet box open. "Winona . . . Reeves . . . Givens . . . Hawkins . . ."

She made a face and tossed a handful of bubbles at him. "Do you want a litany of your mistakes, Cowboy?"

He laughed and brushed the bubbles off the front of his shirt, then took the ring out of the box. He cleared his throat. "Winona. Love of my life . . ."

"That's better."

"Can I finish? Please?"

She giggled. "Yes."

"Will ya' marry me? For the _last_ time?"

"Yes."

He slid the ring onto her finger, and she pulled him into a kiss. "I love you."

In answer, he braced himself on the edge of the tub with one hand and kissed her again.

She covered his hand with hers, pulling away when she felt the bandage on his finger. "What happened?" 

"Ferret bit me," he said, trying for another kiss.

"A ferret?" The water sloshed as she pulled away to get a better look. "Isn't that like a rat?"

"More like a weasel. Ugly little thing with beady eyes. Sharp teeth too. Hurt like hell."

She frowned. "Do they carry rabies?"

"The emergency room doc didn't seem to think it was high risk," Raylan said. "Took two stitches though."

"Well, then," Winona rose up out of the tub, foamy bubbles sliding down her body. "We'd better move this celebration somewhere a little drier."

Raylan stared. "Yeah," he agreed pushing to his feet without taking his eyes off her. "That'd be good."

She stepped out of the tub and pressed up against him, dampening his shirt. "Hand me a towel?" She tipped her chin up, and he covered her mouth with his own as he reached behind him for one of the thick, soft towels.

"Let me," he murmured. He gently rubbed her dry, planting kisses as he went on the warm, flushed skin of her collarbone, her breasts, the soft mound of her stomach. As he worked his way lower, Winona threaded her fingers into his hair and parted her legs slightly, urging him on.

"This what ya' want?" He stroked with a finger before finding her with his tongue.

"Um hmm." she moaned, soft, and leaned back against the tub for support.

He drove her to the brink and back more than once, thrilling to her sounds of pleasure, until he took her over the edge. Easing up, he held her close until she stopped trembling and her legs could support her.

"You're overdressed," she murmured, tugging at his belt. "Let me help you with that."

Belt undone, Raylan quickly toed off his boots and shed his jeans and boxers, stepping out of them and walking Winona backwards toward the bed. She fell back, gazing up at him as he took off his shirt, tossing it on the floor, followed by the wife-beater.

"Com'ere Cowboy," she said, opening her arms. "Your turn."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"You'd better not make that baby throw up," Anna warned, watching Adam toss Willa up in the air, to the baby's delight.

"What? I used to do this to my baby sister all the time. See? She likes it."

Willa was laughing and cooing back to her soon-to-be uncle. Even Anna had to admit Willa seemed to be having a great time away from her folks. Adam was very good at distracting her.

She glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven o'clock when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket.

"Nelson?" she answered, surprised to see his name on her screen at this hour. "Is everything alright?"

"The police were just here. They found a man's body that sounds like it could be James," the man explained. 

"Have you heard from him?"

"No," he answered abruptly. "But the description matched his, down to a Lazarus House polo shirt the staff wears. They want me to go to the morgue and identify the body. James has no family in town."

"Where are you?" she asked.

"At Lazarus House," he answered. "The police met me here when they came to notify. They offered to drive me to the morgue, but then, they got a call."

"You stay right there," she instructed. "I'm on my way. We'll go together."

"I tried to call Raylan first. But there was no answer," he said. "Not that I don't think you're a capable law enforcement officer, Anna. I don't know why I called him first."

She scratched an itch on the tip of her nose. "Raylan is proposing to Winona tonight. I'm not surprised he didn't pick up," she explained. "It doesn't matter. I'm leaving in just a few minutes. I just need to get a cab."

"Thank you," he said. "I really appreciate you."

After ending the call, she also tried to call Raylan. It went straight to his voicemail. She then warned Adam, "I've got to go to Lazarus House. It seems Nelson was asked to go to the morgue to identify a body. I don't want him going alone, since I'm here in town. Raylan's not picking up. Will you be okay with Willa alone? For a while longer?"

Adam looked very concerned. "Yes, we're fine here. But how about you? Are you okay?"

Anna had already shifted into FBI Agent mode. "I'm fine," she said, as she gathered up her weapon, her purse, and a bottle of water. She made her way over to him and gave him a kiss, pressed hard on the lips and then, tousled the top of Willa's head. "You two don't have too much fun without me," she said with a smile.

"Be careful," he said, under his breath.

"I'm taking a cab. I'll be fine."

Adam watched her leave, bouncing the baby on his hip. "Well, it's just you and me, kiddo. What's say I read you a bed time story? Would you like that?"

Handing her the monkey, she reached out for her favorite pal. "Gah." She smiled.

Adam was a natural in the bedtime story department.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"So . . ." Raylan said an hour or so later. "Victory lap?"

Winona stretched her arms over her head. "Maybe we should rescue Adam and Anna. Willa's probably gotten cranky by now."

"She might be sleepin'."

"Not if I know our daughter. Besides, I want to show Anna my ring." She held out her hand to look at it and yelped. "Raylan! The ring! It's gone."

"Well, shit," he muttered. He was suddenly relieved he took out the insurance on the ring. "It's gotta be here somewhere."

"It must've come off when we were . . ." She leaped up. "Maybe it's in the tub."

She came racing back into the room with a panicked look on her face. "It's not here!"

"We'll it's got to be _somewhere_," he said, following her into the bathroom.

She was right. It wasn't in the tub, nor anywhere on the bright white bathroom floor.

Raylan flicked on all the lights in their room and crouched down on the carpeted floor, tracking their path back towards the bed. Then, he rifled through the pile of his clothing. Nothing.

Meanwhile, Winona methodically began to peel off the layers of bedding, starting with the pillows. When she got past the bedspread and the blanket, she carefully pulled back the top sheet. "There it is!" she cried out with great relief in her voice. She jumped on top of the bed and scrambled for the piece of platinum beauty. Raylan's head popped up to watch the scene of a nude Winona on all fours, with her engagement ring clutched close to her heart. And there he was on the floor, naked, rummaging through his dirty clothes. _We're some crazy sight_, he thought to himself.

"My God," she exhaled. "I almost had a heart attack. I was honestly afraid it had gone down the bathtub drain." After a beat, she asked, "Where's the box? This ring is staying in that box until I go and have it sized!" she declared.

Raylan pointed to the nightstand closest to her. She grabbed the velvet box and carefully placed the ring back inside. "Its soooo beautiful," she smiled, very relieved to have it back.

"Do ya' _really_ like it? You're not disappointed I didn't go for the one you picked out? It's just that they couldn't have it ready any time soon."

"Are you kiddng?" she asked in amazement, taking in the site of the larger diamond, reflecting all kinds of beautiful light. "This stone is . . . it's the most beautiful, exquisite diamond I've ever seen." She carefully closed the box and set it back on the nightstand. She looked over at Raylan. "You did good, Cowboy."

Then, she noticed a prescription bottle next to the box . . . with Raylan's name on it. "What's this?" she asked, holding up the bottle.

"It's for the ferret bite," he confessed.

"Have you taken your second dose, today?" she asked, scanning the label.

Standing up, he walked over to a guest basket that was on the table and picked out a bottled water. "Guess I better do that, now."

"It says to take it with food," she went on reading before handing him the bottle.

"There's a banana here," he pointed back to the basket. "Think Willa will mind?"

"Willa," she gasped. "We'd better go get her."

Swallowing the large horse pill, chased by a large bite of the banana, he said, "Why don't ya' stay here? I'll go and get her."

"Thank you," she smiled and began to put their bed back together, while Raylan threw his clothes back on.

"I'll be right back," he said, closing the door behind him.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

It wasn't long before Raylan made his way down the hall and rapped lightly on the door to Anna and Adam's room. Adam answered making a 'Shhhhh' noise with his index finger extended over his closed lips.

"I just got her to sleep," he explained. "Did you get Anna's message?" he whispered.

"No," Raylan answered, keeping his voice down, looking around the room and not seeing her there. "Where is she?"

"At the county morgue. With Nelson," he explained. "The police think its James. The man Nelson works with. They want Nelson to identify the body."

Raylan pulled his phone out of his pocket, turned it on, and suddenly saw the missed calls from both Nelson and Anna. "No shit," he gasped under his breath. "Look. Would ya' mind takin' Willa over to Winona? I'm gonna get over to the morgue. Okay?"

"That sounds good," Adam said. He somehow felt better now that Anna wouldn't be handling this, with her birth father, alone.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The scrub-clad morgue attendant picked up a clipboard and flipped the page over.

"Follow me," she said. Her sneakers squeaked against the scuffed linoleum as he led them down a narrow hallway.

The three of them trailed the young woman. "Thank you for coming," Nelson said to Anna. "I didn't want to do this alone."

"Well, ya' don't have to," Raylan said.

"I appreciate that more than you know."

They stopped at a heavy door, and she slid the tag from around her neck through the receptor and the door opened with a click. "Wait here."

Walking over to a wall of steal drawers, she checked her list and pulled one out, checking the list again against the toe tag on the body. "Okay. You ready?"

"I guess so." Nelson licked his bottom lip and his hand trembled slightly.

Anna and Raylan stayed several steps behind Nelson as he moved forward and the attendant lifted the sheet.

"That's him," Nelson sighed. "That's James."

The elder man's stance waivered as reality rushed through his veins alongside adrenaline. Raylan reached over and steadied him on one side, while Anna did the same on the other.

"Let's get you outta here," Raylan suggested, nodding to the attendant, indicating that this was enough for their witness.

As she covered the dead man's face, the attendant said, "I just have some paperwork that needs to sign with photo I.D. You can wait for me in the hall," she suggested.

Anna guided Nelson out of the cold, sterile room. Raylan stayed behind to see what he could find out from the attendant.

"My God," Nelson whispered under his breath.

Anna led him to a bench in the hallway where he took a seat with a thud.

"I just don't understand why anyone would want to kill James."

"Well, I know one thing," Anna remarked, taking a seat beside him. "You're not going back to Lazarus House until we find out what the hell is going on."

"But I _have_ to go back," Nelson protested. "I have responsibilities to the Board of Directors. To the men who are in my charge. Aren't they in danger, too?"

"Could be," Raylan joined them. "But she's right. You're not goin' back there tonight. Not alone." Then, he looked over at Anna and filled in the blanks. "Gunshot wound to the chest, though the back. Execution style." Then, he looked over at Nelson. "If it's any comfort to ya', James never saw it comin'."

Raylan dug into his jacket pocket for his cell phone. "I think we need to call in some favors." And he proceeded to call the Marshal Service.

"It's late," Anna glanced at her watch. "Too late to get you a room where we're staying. Adam and I have a convertible sofa in our room that folds out into a bed. Would you mind bunking in with us tonight? And we'll sort all this out at the light of day."

The elder man was about to put up argument, when he met Raylan's steely stare, while still talking to the marshals.

A short time later, Raylan ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket. "The Marshals are gonna keep an eye on the shelter tonight, so there's nothin' for ya' to worry about."

"I've never . . ."

"Nelson," Raylan stopped him. "You're comin' back with us, and that's that."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

When Anna and Raylan returned from the morgue with Nelson in tow, a quick call to Warren had been made. The proprietor sent up some sheets and extra towels. Nelson made some phone calls while Anna made up the sofa bed, and then she went to take a shower, leaving Adam alone with Nelson.

"Can I get you another blanket?" Adam handed Nelson a pillow from the closet. "There's a couple more in here."

"No. No, I'll be fine." With Anna out of the room, the older man stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt. "Thanks for taking me in. And on such short notice."

"It's not a problem," Adam said, meaning it. He liked this man far better than his future father-in-law, André, and hoped that Nelson and Anna could forge a relationship. Her decision to bring him back here was a good sign. He reached over, turned on the bedside lamp, and cleared his throat. "I'm really sorry about your friend."

"Thank you," Nelson said. He sighed. "James was much more than a friend. He was my right-hand man at Lazarus House." He shook his head. "I still can't believe it."

"I'm sure it's a shock." Adam nodded. Sensing Nelson might need a listening ear, he sat on the edge of the dresser. "How long have you known him?"

"Going on six years," Nelson answered. "Seems like a lot longer." He glanced at his phone. "I placed a call to his sister in Texas, but she hasn't called back yet." He sighed. "I don't relish telling her the news. Still, it's better coming from me than from the Chicago police."

Nelson was a tall man, but sitting on the bed in his underwear he looked shrunken, diminished by his shock and grief.

"Did they say anything about what might have happened?"

"Raylan said he was shot in the back. Never saw it coming." Again, he shook his head in disbelief. "It probably had something to do with that _damn_ nephew of his . . ."

"Easy?" Adam asked, recalling the dreadlocked young man he and Anna had met, their first time at Lazarus House.

"Yes," Nelson said. "That boy . . ." he shook his head again. "I don't believe anyone is beyond redemption, you understand, but Ezra? That's his given name – I never trusted him. If it hadn't been for James vouching for him . . . I would have never allowed him to work at Lazarus House."

"He was a resident?"

"Yes. Most of our workers were one-time residents. Their first job after re-hab. Helps them to establish a work history." Nelson gave a scoot and leaned against the back of the couch. "Ezra was a gang-banger and an addict. James brought him in, got him cleaned up. He was a model resident."

The man paused and Anna joined them, leaning in the doorway wrapped in one of the thick motel bathrobes. He met his daughter's eyes. "But I always thought he was faking the steps."

"Did you ever talk to James about it?" Anna asked.

"I tried." He tugged at the blanket and covered his legs.

Anna couldn't help but note Nelson's socked feet. Her high instep and skinny heel came from him. Maybe fine for a man, her skinny heel had always caused her problems in wearing some of the more popular sandals and sling back shoes.

Nelson went on. "I guess I should have tried harder."

"This isn't your fault," Anna quickly added. "People don't like to think the worst of family. James probably wouldn't have listened."

"He felt responsible for that boy. I do know that."

"Is it his mother you're trying to reach?" Adam asked. "The one in Texas?"

"No, his mother is dead. James basically raised that boy since he was eleven or twelve." Nelson's voice cracked a little. "James got himself clean for that boy. Turned his life around, and he still, he couldn't save him from the damn gangs."

After a long beat of silence, the investigator in Anna couldn't help but ask, "Did you get yourself clean for anyone?"

Nelson looked at her, his eyes suddenly welled with tears. "For you, baby girl. I got myself clean for you. I knew you were out there. And I prayed and prayed all these years that someday . . . you would search for me." Swallowing the lump that formed, down his throat, he added. "My prayers have been answered."

Emotions laid thick in the small room.

Sniffling, Nelson said, "I can't thank you and Raylan enough for being there with me tonight. I don't think I could have done it, alone."

Pulling the belt of her robe, tighter, Anna walked over to him and took a seat on the side of the sofa bed. "You're welcome. I didn't want you to go alone." She reached over and placed her hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze. "I'm so sorry for your loss . . . _Dad_."

She called him _Dad_. It made his heart soar and caused the grown man to begin to break down. Without missing a beat, Anna wrapped her long arms around him and drew her father to her shoulder . . . where he had himself a good, long cry.

The sight of his love's tough veneer, coming all the way down, brought a tear to Adam's eye as well.

_(To be continued . . .)_


	11. Chapter 11

_On Haitus_

'_And Its Outta Here' and 'Romantique The Original' will be on haitus until after the series, Justified, wraps it all up_


End file.

Justified, Family, Romance