Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman 1. A Miracle

It was nothing short of a miracle of God.

One moment, Timothy was slipping and falling backwards on a patch of mud from last night's downpours, the next he was blinking and coming to…and he could see something other than blackness.

Dr. Mike said it was impossible. There was no cure for his blindness, and there probably never would be. It didn't even make sense. The Reverend's blindness was caused by an illness, not a conk on the head. How did it suddenly become possible to see again after a fall?

Not that this was what was on his mind as Timothy blinked the world into existence for the first time in two years…

…it was her face.

"Are you alright?"

Standing over Timothy as he lie stunned in the dirt was a young woman, about twenty-five years old. Her hair was unruly and red, redder than even Dorothy's hair. Not to mention, it was a tangled mass of twine about her shoulders, as opposed to Dorothy's usual neat, tidy hairstyle. She had a round face and a high-necked purple collar. Her eye color was undiscernible because of the angle of the sun. And she was nothing sort of radiant.

"I…." was all Timothy could manage to squeak out. This was all too much to take in. From his point of view, the sun formed a halo around the woman's head. "…can see."

"Oh no," the woman muttered. Timothy could feel more boot steps approaching him. His head began to throb. The next voice that joined hers' was more familiar, and through the haze, Timothy could make out Jake Slicker.

"Reverend, you ok?"

"We should get him to Doctor Quinn," said a third voice…it had to be Teresa Slicker's.

"Where is he, then? Someone hurry!" said the voice belonging to the red haired stranger.

"Wait just a moment, Miss!" chimed in a fourth voice. The woman's face was pulled out of the tunnel of the Reverend's vision as she was helped to her feet by Preston Lodge III. "I'm sure he's ok. The Reverend Johnson's taken more than his share of falls and injuries over the years, I'm sure."

"Jake? Preston?" Timothy muttered, still overwhelmed. "I can see you!"

Silence.

"I thought the Doctor said that was not possible," Teresa said softly.

"She did," Jake replied. "Where is she?"

"Maybe Brian will know, he was just at the general store," Teresa replied before whisking herself off in that direction.

"Don't sit up just yet, Reverend," Jake advised. He looked up at Preston, still holding his grip on the strange woman's shoulder. "That what she would say, right?"

"Who's she?" the woman asked quickly.

"The Doc," Preston answered. "I think the question is…who are you, Miss?" There was an obviously flirtatious tone to his voice.

That was when Timothy couldn't stand the headache any longer, and fell back into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Reverend? Reverend? Can you hear me?" asked a soft, gentle, very familiar voice…one that used to make Timothy's heart flutter.

"Dr. Quinn?" he moaned, trying to move. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I don't want you moving just yet. I'm pretty sure you've suffered a concussion. You hit your head on a stone when you fell down."

To Timothy's amazement, it wasn't a dream. The world was coming into focus around him again, like it used to before his illness took his sight in the first place. Michaela Quinn's clinic looked almost exactly as he remembered it. And Michaela herself was still as pretty as he remembered.

She stared down at him with a queer look in her eye. "I thought Jake wasn't being serious. Is…is your vision clear? Blurred? Colored?"

Timothy smiled. "Dr. Quinn, I can see you. You're a little blurred."

"This is quite…miraculous. You might just need some spectacles to help with the blur…but I don't understand. You didn't lose your vision due to injury!" She seemed both happy and confused. It made her skin glow.

"Am I going to be alright?"

"I should think so. You're concussed for sure, but I am confident that things are going to be fine. I'd like to keep you here in the clinic for a few hours to monitor you, but if everything seems normal, I will be able to send you home by suppertime." Michaela reached for two sterile-white pillows in a cabinet above her head. "Do you think you can stand me propping your head up? It will make it a little easier to stay awake until the immediate danger has passed."

"Yes, thank you," Timothy said. Michaela gingerly propped his head and shoulder onto the extra pillows. This only made his head throb a little more. He moaned.

"If you'd like, I'll make you a cup of willow bark tea. It might help with the pain you feel," Michaela suggested.

"I would like that, Doctor. Thank you."

A few minutes went by as the Doctor brewed the tea. Timothy took a slow moment just taking in the fact that, aside from some blurring, he could, in fact, see again! What a miracle, indeed!

"Praise the Lord," he muttered to himself. _Perhaps I can ask Michaela to bring a Bible so I could study it while I wait for release…_

Some movement drew his gaze to the window as he thought. With their backs to the window, Preston Lodge III was still talking with the red-haired angel who'd found Timothy first. He couldn't make out the conversation, not that it was his business anyways.

He couldn't help but notice how long her tangled tresses ran…to the small of her back. She appeared almost as tall as Preston, and her lavender-colored dress offset the warm hues of her hair, making her stand out all the more.

_Glory Be to God,_ he thought. _I am healed, and He has sent an angel to see His Will be done…_

* * *

"I saw you being shoved off the train earlier" Preston Lodge III said softly. "Stowaway? Runaway? Abusive husband at home? Or—"

"—I'm a wanderer, I suppose," the woman replied. "I have no family, no husband, no children. I was staying and working in a boarding house in Brooklyn until about two weeks ago."

"I see, and what brings you out west?"

"Opportunity," she replied blunting to Preston's pressing questions.

"Well, welcome, Miss—"

"—Lucile. Lucile Greene."

Preston grinned widely. "Welcome to town, Miss Greene. I think Colorado Springs just got a little prettier!"


	2. First Sunday

_**Three Days Later…**_

Lucy really needed to find work or move on soon. Colorado Springs didn't have nearly as much opportunity as she had seen upon arrival. She was beginning to run out of money for her lodging and food.

She donned the only 'Sunday' dress she had (and one of only two she owned entirely), a jade-green calico frock that was a little snug in the chest. Lucy wished she had a shawl to wrap over her rather large breasts, but that cost money…money she presently needed to ensure that she wouldn't be spending Tuesday night sleeping in the gutter or on the porch of the telegraph office. Binding her merciless tangles as best she could into a loose braid, Lucy figured that if she didn't look like an acceptable employee today, she might as well run off into the woods and try to live off the land.

The township seemed to have a bit more hesitation towards accepting strangers than Brooklyn. The General Store already had enough women working in it (and the older man running the place seemed skeptical to taking in a drifter), the school had a teacher, and the only other place that seemed to hire women at all was The Gold Nugget…and Lucy refused to work as a harlot to make ends meet.

But where else could she go? The train conductor told her not to bother sneaking aboard again…he would tell everyone on the rails to beware of a red-haired woman without a ticket. She couldn't hire a stage coach. She only had enough money for two more nights unless she found a job.

This was her last chance…she approached the black woman who ran the outdoor café as the general public gravitated towards the church house just outside of the main street. The woman had a young boy on her shoulder…she always seemed like she could not physically bring herself to let the babe go. Her husband always walked at her side when he wasn't working as a blacksmith.

"Excuse me! Mrs…Mrs…" Lucy realized she didn't even know the café owner's name. Instead, she dashed to catch up with the family. Finally, the woman turned her head about a hundred feet from the church.

"May I help you?" The woman had a graceful, smooth Southern drawl.

"Yes, you run the café?" asked Lucy.

"I do indeed," the woman replied.

"Ma'am, my name is Lucile, and I really need some work. I'm new in town and I've been looking all week—"

"—I don't know. It's taken two years to get up on our feet after the bank crash, and we're just now getting back to normal!" The woman looked to her companion/husband's face for advice on what to say next.

"Please? Please, ma'am?" Lucy found herself begging. "In two days I'll be out of money, and I have no way out of town right now."

The woman looked at her husband, then down to her son, who was drowsily napping on her shoulder.

"Well, I always try to help a woman in need," she mumbled. "Do you mind if I start you on the breakfast and lunch shifts? It's a lot to deal with, but the tips are usually better. I'll let you keep half to start, and if you do well after a month, I'll let you keep all of your tips. Is that a deal?"

Lucy nodded eagerly. The woman extended her free hand to shake Lucy's.

"You can call me Grace, Lucile. And this is my husband, Robert E, and our son Solomon."

"If you wish, you can call me Lucy," Lucy replied.

"I hope I can trust you to work hard," Grace said. "I don't usually hire people I don't know!"

"My last job was in a boarding house in Brooklyn. I was their maid in return for food and board."

"Then you should catch on quickly. Waiting tables and washing dishes isn't much different," Grace said, smiling cautiously. "Are you headed to service?"

Lucy shrugged. "I suppose I should."

"There's a church picnic right after. I can introduce you to some of the other townsfolk you might not have met yet," Grace offered. Lucy nodded.

"Well, pleasure to meet you, Lucy," Robert E chimed in with a warm smile. "We'd better hurry up, or we'll be late!"

As if on a cue, the sound of a congregation singing 'Bringing in the Sheaths' echoed from the church, the door still slightly ajar to allow stragglers in. Grace and Robert E picked up their pace, but Lucy dawdled a second longer.

_Well, at least now I have livelihood. She seems nice. I just hope the others around here are a just as open-minded. _

The morning was cool for an early-spring day, so it struck Lucy as odd off-hand for there to be a picnic scheduled. The dew on the short grass as well as the mud from the dirt road had already soaked through the old brown boots Lucy wore under her green dress. But the day was bright and blue. There weren't tall metal building obscuring the sun from warming her face like there were in Hell's Kitchen, no smoke from the factories and mills. It was quieter too, and more peaceful in spite of the loud crescendo of the hymn wafting around in the air. She could stand there all morning…

Before her mind began wandering (again), Lucy snapped out of her trance and quickly climbed up the steps into the church.

The first thing Lucy saw was how small the house was. There was hardly any room left in even the pews furthest back. The room was uncomfortable and hot, but the joyous sounds of music and prayer helped open the place up a little. Lucy hadn't been to a church service in nearly three years, since her brother's funeral. She decided to stand against the back wall and hope the Reverend wasn't much for long-winded speeches.

Up the aisle at the front of the room, the Reverend had caught sight of her as she made her way into the back corner of the sanctuary. He had been leading the hymn with a rich, gentle tenor, but he stopped short upon seeing her. Lucy looked around her. Was she supposed to squeeze in somewhere? Was that a rule?

The Reverend himself was younger than Lucy had remembered from her brief encounter with him the moment she arrived in town. He had a short, neat beard, auburn hair, and a very comforting, gentle smile. His eyes seemed to widen, and his expression become animated with some positive emotion Lucy had never seen on a clergyman's face.

The hymn ended, and the Reverend began his service after a pause. Lucy didn't take her eyes off of him the entire time. She could have sworn the Reverend looked in her direction a few more times than was traditional as well…

* * *

By one o'clock that afternoon, the first church picnic of the year was in full swing. The children of the grade school had spent some time making games for everyone to play. Grace was serving up a spread full of grilled meats, fresh corn bread, vegetables, and pound cake with whipped cream. The sun had warmed the air a bit, though it was still a little colder than usual for the time of year. But for Timothy, there was nothing greater than just to be there, under the gaze of the Father and embraced in the love of the Son.

Children laughed and ran around visiting the various games the school had set up. A pair of fiddlers played merrily by the church steps. People smiled and greeted one another.

Among them, the redheaded stranger in her green dress, which was slightly tattered around the skirt hem. Her hair glowed in the sun. Her cheeks were blushed, her dimples pronounced when she smiled. Timothy took a breath and prayed. _Oh Lord, give me the courage to finish what I'm about to start._

She had her back to Timothy has he weaved through the crowd, politely greeting everyone who got between them. She wasn't being very social for being at a picnic.

Timothy cleared his throat. "I…uh…never got a chance to thank you for helping me last Thursday."

She turned around to face him. She had hazel eyes. Hazel eyes that preferred green.

"Oh, Reverend," said the girl, blinking up at him and smiling. "I didn't do very much. The Mayor and his wife got you to the clinic."

Timothy shook his head. "Nevertheless, uh…thank you for finding me. I must admit that…uh…"

"Lucile. My name is Lucile Greene. But I prefer Lucy."

"That's such a—a—lovely name," Timothy said, stuttering. Lucy bowed her head.

"And your name is Johnson….Reverend Johnson," she replied.

"Well, yes, but I'm sure you could call me Tim—"

"—there you are, Lucile!" chimed Preston from nearby. He waved Lucy over, though she didn't move. After a moment, Preston finally sauntered over himself. His gait was so confident, with a twinge of arrogance in spite of his humbled, compromised position in the community.

In turn, Lucile looked back up to Timothy apologetically.

"Lucile, I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me on a walk down by the brook," Preston asked, offering his arm.

"Actually, I was getting to know a few people around here," Lucy declined. "I just got a job helping Grace with her café. So it looks like I'll be here awhile. I figured I'd get to know some of the people."

Preston shrugged. "Many of them aren't used to the finer ways of living like us city children."

"City children?" asked Timothy.

"Oh, didn't she tell you? She's from New York City. I'm from Boston, so we have quite a bit in common. I'm helping her get used to the ways of the west," Preston explained. Lucy smiled up at him.

"Yes, he has been very helpful," she mumbled.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to talk a stroll with me?" he repeated.

Timothy dropped his shoulder. "I understand, I have other—"

"—I'd rather stay here with the Reverend," Lucy stated firmly. "I know you already, Mr. Lodge. But I don't know anything about him yet."

Preston's smile never left his face, but it significantly faded. "Oh, well then. I hope to have that walk with you another time, Lucile." He turned to Timothy. "Reverend," he acknowledged.

"Preston," Timothy replied. Preston turned on his heel and walked further into the crowd. Lucy didn't look back at him. Instead, she looked up at Timothy again and grinned, flashing her beautiful white teeth.

"Come to think of it," she said softly. "I haven't been to the brook yet. Perhaps you'd like to show me?"


	3. By The Brook

The brook babbled gently as Timothy led Lucy down the bankside, further away from the activity back in town. The wind began to pick up, rustling through the leaves, adding to the tranquil rhythm surrounding them both.

"So, my mother and father both died when the flu spread through the neighborhood, when I was eleven. My brother and I both got it, but we both survived. He was a lot older than me, and married, so I lived with him and his wife for a while," Lucy explained to her new friend.

"What made you leave and get work in a boarding house?" Timothy asked.

Lucy shrugged. "My brother and his wife had twins, two loud little boys. I was just another burden on them all, so I left when I was sixteen. Also, I didn't get along with my sister-in-law. She thought I was an attention-seeker, and she would always try and exercise authority over me. I never let her, so that only made things worse."

Timothy nodded silently, thinking on this for a moment while Lucy continued on.

"After nine years of being a maid, I watched a lot of people traveling through the city and heard their stories. I decided that I wanted to do that too. I heard a lot of stories about people who'd found adventure, romance, and memories in the West. So I chose to try California on for size. But I could only afford a train ticket that would take me as far as Kentucky, that's why I got booted off," she concluded her story.

"So, where will you go from here?" Timothy finally asked.

Lucy paused and stopped in her stride, looking pensively over the brook. "I really can't say. I'll get out to San Francisco someday. But I need to make some money while I'm here so I can get there…legally."

Timothy smiled. "Well, Colorado Springs isn't New York, but it's got everything you need in the short term. Good people with good faith—"

"—that's the other thing, Reverend," Lucy interrupted. "I was raised without very much of a religion."

_ Without religion? Good Lord!_ The Reverend thought to himself. _Not that it's completely unimaginable…look at how I was before I found God. _

"Wh…what do you mean?" he decided to ask.

"Growing up in Brooklyn, especially in Hell's Kitchen where everybody is either Catholic or dead, my family decided our faiths were better left up to our own devices. We would attend services in Manhattan whenever we could afford to travel onto the island, but that was usually not more than once a year for Christmas," Lucy explained. "I don't think my father even believed in it at all. My brother sure didn't."

"And yourself?"

Lucy smiled up at her companion, and then back out into the surrounding natural world. "I guess I believe a little. I mean, how can you not with all of this splendor around you every day? I just have a hard time compromising the idea of a benevolent God with what I grew up seeing around me. You know, between the warring Irish gangs, the poverty, and the fact that I lost both of my parents in the same fortnight."

"God brings us many trials to test our faith," Timothy began to mention. Lucy shook her head.

"If God is so all-knowing, why doesn't he just know how true a believer someone is? Why doesn't he intervene more? I'm not one to be tested!"

_Poor woman_, Timothy thought. _She's been tossed around so much she's lost her way. _

Yet, there was something about Lucy's passionate rant that made her cheek go redder, her breath quicken, and her chest heave. The way she was getting flustered was inciting some odd thoughts into the man's mind…

Perhaps a dim room lit by a single candle…a large bed in the corner…the shadows of the two of them flickering against the far wall. A tight embrace as the world outside went away and was replaced with the blackened winter's night…he in his night shirt and she in just a corset and pantalets. Her hands gently lingering over his clean-shaven face before wandering down his chest and abdomen…her wet lips moving from his own to the nape of his sensitive neck…him gently lying her down on the bed and undoing her corset strings as her legs wrapped around his hips…

Suddenly, Timothy snapped back into the present as he realized what his lustful thoughts were doing to him. Without looking down, he knew he had to make sure Lucy didn't either, or she would see how just a few moments of wandering daydreams could arouse him so fully. His 'member' was fully erect and barely concealed under his black trousers. Sinful and humiliating…

"I should get back," he suddenly cut off. Lucy jumped a little at the sudden interruption of the silence.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel bad about your religion—"

"—no, no! Not that. I just think a church picnic wouldn't be complete without the Reverend there, right?" he said quickly. Lucy looked hurt.

"I let my mouth run away with me all the time!" Lucy scolded herself. "I really am—"

"—I'll see you around town, then," Timothy sighed before quickly spinning on his heel and walking away without even offering Lucy herself an escort back to the social.

_Dearest Lord, please forgive my wandering mind…_

* * *

The next day, Timothy went to see Dr. Mike for a check-up of his eyesight, as well as the hole in his mouth where his infected wisdom tooth had been. He usually had the woman check up on him yearly ever since he had it pulled by Jake Slicker a few years back…in case something hadn't healed right and an infection could flare up.

"Well, Reverend," Michaela said cheerfully, putting her glass away after examining his eyes. "I'll put in the order for your spectacles, and they should be ready in about two weeks. I order glasses for my patients from Denver, so they will be here shortly."

"Thank you, Dr. Mike," Timothy said, blinking. "Even if I never get spectacles, I don't think I'd mind too much now that I know what it's like to not have any sight at all."

"I think you might be right. But it would probably be better if you did have them!" Dr. Mike's broad smile was contagious, and Timothy couldn't help but reciprocate. "Well, we'll just examine your tooth socket quickly and we'll be finished!"

"Should I lean back?"

Michaela nodded. Timothy obeyed by leaning back on his arms, giving her a better angle to examine his mouth. Usually, dental surgery was Jake Slicker's domain, but seeing as this was just a brief inspection, Dr. Mike could take care of it. She took a white towel and draped it over Timothy's chest, around his neck. He took this as a signal to open his mouth. Michaela took a small probe and used it to find the empty tooth socket.

"I saw you walking with the new young lady in town yesterday," she said. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her yet, but she is quite lovely."

Timothy couldn't respond orally, so he indicated his agreement with a slight nod.

"I didn't think anyone could have hair redder than Dorothy's, nor be quite as tall as some of the men around here, but I suppose it's a bit more common in women from cities. I can hardly remember how tall women got to be in Boston—"

Timothy rolled his eyes to the side to look out of the window, as if Lucy would be outside waiting for him.

"—I saw that Preston has certainly taken a liking to her. I've never seen him interested in any one person besides himself!" Michaela said before removing the probe. "Your socket is a little red…have you been having any pain lately, Reverend?"

Timothy shook his head, unable to get his mind off of the idea of Preston courting Lucy. Dr. Mike was right…Preston was behaving noticeably more courtly with Lucy than he had ever done before.

"Well I'm going to apply a bit of antiseptic to it just to be safe, it will take just a moment," Michaela assured. As she did so, using a tamper instrument, Timothy's mind flashed back to yesterday, and how abruptly he'd broken away from Lucy after his…indiscretion (which, of course, disappeared before he even made it back to the social). She probably thought he was incredibly rude.

The Doctor finished her work and removed the towel from the Reverend's neck. "You're all set now, Reverend!"

* * *

"Lucy, you're doing very well for your first day," Grace said cheerily as she and Lucy whisked up soiled plates from tables at the café. "I don't think I've ever seen Loren Bray tip so well in my life!"

"Thank you," she said quietly. She hadn't been able to get her mind off of what she'd done at the picnic. Her first Sunday in town, and she'd offended the preacher!

"There will probably be some slow time before the dinner rush, so if you'd like, you can get an hour's rest! I can handle things here," Grace suggested. Lucy smiled and bowed her head.

"That sounds nice, actually. I'll be back to do dishes around four," she promised.

However, before she could walk more than thirty feet, she saw Preston Lodge III walking towards her, holding a small bouquet of daisies. He was smiling confidently at her as he approached.

"Miss Lucile?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr. Lodge?"

"Please…" he asked, holding out the yellow flowers to her to take, "…call me Preston."

"Oh, thank you," Lucy said softly. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Preston removed his hat and looked her in the eye with an uncharacteristically genuine demeanor. "I was hoping you could meet me this Friday evening for supper, and perhaps a moonlit walk?"

Lucy shrugged. "I have work here—"

"—it can be after the usual supper time, around eight-thirty?" Preston badgered.

Lucy looked over her shoulder, hoping to see if Grace was listening. Instead, she saw the Reverend coming out of the medical clinic, lightly massaging his lower jaw with two fingers. He happened to notice her at the same time, and stopped in his tracks. He looked hurt just looking at her.

Lucy whipped her head back around to face Preston. "Preston, I would be honored to join you Friday night."


	4. The Date

_**Friday Night…**_

Timothy kneeled beside his humble bed to pray before he went to sleep every night. He prayed for every person in Colorado Springs, for every person from his past, for the weather, good crops, and good business for the town. Tonight he added a special prayer for himself…the first time he'd been selfish before God in a long time.

_Dear Heavenly Father, please forgive all of my sins I have committed in thought, word, and deed, and please make me worthy of your glory. Tonight I find myself in special need of your guidance. I will accept your will for my life, Lord, but I am feeling more a bachelor than ever before. In my own heart I have wanted a family of my own since I left my past and found You. I have attempted courting twice before, and neither time the woman was your choice for me, but I pray that you help me to gather the strength and courage I need to try one last time, God. Lucy Greene is such a spirited, beautiful, intelligent woman, and I know that I can lead her back to You as well. But that's not the only reason why I want to court her. I just feel as if she was left here for a reason, and that reason is to be with me. Again, Lord, I cannot know your Divine Will for both of our lives, but I pray that you look upon the both of us as lonely people who need each other and show us your plans for our lives. In Your Holy Name I pray…_

He conveniently left out the admission that he'd fantasized about her sexually twice more since Sunday. He figured the Lord knew his thoughts anyway, so there was no need to bring it up again. Ever, if possible.

* * *

Preston and Lucy had a relatively quiet supper that evening, followed by the promised moonlit walk (although the moon was obscured by thick, bleak-looking clouds that evening, and the air hung heavy with the promise of rain).

"So, enough about me, tell me a little more about you," Preston said after a lengthy discussion about his past. Lucy shrugged. "I mean, what's a gorgeous woman from New York doing in a tiny settlement like this?"

"There isn't much to say other than what I've told you already," she admitted. "What else would you like to know?" _Damn, this is a boring conversation. _

"Your interests, maybe? Your hopes for the future? I mean, you don't want to work at Grace's for the rest of your life, do you?" Preston snickered a little under his breath, as if Grace's café were a dirty ghetto worse than Hell's Kitchen.

Lucy sighed. "Well, I like reading about history, especially biographies of famous people."

Preston yawned and tried hard to conceal it.

"I also love animals, especially cats. The boarding house had eight wandering around to catch mice. And, I love dancing, even though the only lessons I've ever had were in the streets back in New York," Lucy's voice got softer and less confident as she went on. "I know that I want marriage and children, but I also want to opportunity to see more of the country, maybe even the world. I would need a man who was willing to take an equal role in raising our babies—"

"—equal? How?" Preston asked.

"Well, equal share in their education, discipline, as well as the cooking, cleaning, watching out for their health and caring for them in sickness."

"I suppose you get that from living in a city all your life. Trust me, I know what that's like," Preston said.

"You do now? How so? What makes us city people different from someone like Jake Slicker or Loren Bray?" Lucy asked, name-dropping a few of the people she'd become familiar with over the past week.

"City folks like us are raised with a certain maturity. We have to adapt to sharing smaller, more intimate surroundings with more people. We're exposed to a lot more when we're younger. Out here, morals take on a much stricter definition because people have never seen examples of what life is like without rules. In fact, even most men around here are expected to have never lied with a woman before they marry them!" he mused as they strolled down the main street. "Except for maybe those who frequent The Gold Nugget."

"I've never been with a woman," Lucy chuckled. Preston laughed.

"I don't suppose you have. But have you ever been—"

"—while I believe that is none of your business in particular, no, I've never slept with a man, either." Lucy felt her face getting warm. She hoped the conversation would get boring again, quickly.

"I didn't think so," Preston said.

"What do you mean by that?" Lucy replied quickly.

Preston stopped and turned to face Lucy. He gently places both of his hands on her elbows to pull her close to him. "Because you're so young and beautiful, so naturally you're a virgin. No man in his right mind would want to spoil you."

"SPOIL ME?" Lucy cried, suddenly outraged. "Listen, Preston, even if I'd slept with fifty men, I wouldn't be spoiled, as you call it. I still have my dignity, my independence, and my own set of rules! My love life is no concern of any man who would want to share my bed, and it is not equal to my worth as a woman and a person!"

"Alright, alright," Preston muttered, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable. What a temper on this one! "I was just trying to be kind. You are very beautiful."

"I thank you for the complement and forgive you for your nosy indiscretion," Lucy said after a moment of thinking, lowering her voice once more. Preston continued to gaze into her eyes.

"I feel like I want to kiss you," he murmured gently. "But I feel compelled to ask your permission first."

"That would be a new twist," Lucy said, stone-faced. Preston stepped back and snorted.

"So you HAVE kissed men before?" he overreactingly asked. Lucy scowled.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. Twice."

"When?"

"I really don't feel like telling you," she said. "I honestly feel like going home and going to bed."

That was when the first rumble of thunder rolled overhead. Moments later, the rain followed in sheets as the beginnings of the storm moved in.

"I guess that's a sign that you're right," Preston sighed. "Come, I'll make sure you get there." He offered his hand to Lucy, who stared a moment at it with hesitation. "COME!" Preston urged.

Lucy finally took his hand, and the pair ran down the main street towards the hotel. The mud was thick, and it slowed them down considerably. Lucy began laughing as the hem of her good dress became stained.

Finally, they reached the hotel, and Preston led Lucy up the steps to under the porch overhang, so that they would at least be dry for a moment.

"I hope we don't catch cold!" Lucy moaned. Preston shrugged.

"It would be my honor to get sick on account of you, Miss Lucile," he crooned, taking her hand and kissing it delicately over the knuckles before finally letting it go. "I am sorry for offending you earlier. It's just…I'm a man who speaks before he thinks. I hope you understand."

"I do," Lucy agreed, nodding. Preston smiled.

"I would like to call on you again sometime, if you would allow it," he asked. Lucy looked out into the stormy night. She could see the church at the other end of town through all of the dark rain, only because a candle was lit in the window. In just another second, it was snuffed out.

Lucy turned to Preston again to answer him. "Maybe. Preston, I just got to town, and I feel like I need some air first."

"Well, the Rockies are the best place for fresh air—"

"—you know what I mean," she replied, giving a stern look that even a man like Preston couldn't misinterpret. "Tonight was fine…mostly fine, anyway. I need to think and have time to myself to settle in first. Then, as time goes by we can do something."

"So you want to? Just, after you're a bit more acquainted with the town?" Preston was beginning to badger Lucy to the point where she was uncomfortable, so to end the night, she nodded quickly.

"Yes."

It was as if an angel had shaken Preston's hand, and then left one hundred dollars in his palm. He grinned with victory.

"Then, may I leave you with one kiss? Until we meet again?" he suggested. Lucy nodded again with reluctance.

As they were nearly the same height, Preston did not have to lean down far to reach Lucy's lips. The kiss was pleasant, but also relatively mechanical and formal. Preston kissed by the book, as Shakespeare once described it.

It was the only kind of kiss that Lucy knew, so she didn't mind.


	5. Dancing in the Street

Once in a while, Timothy still thought of Louise Chambers, and how she was the closest he'd ever come to becoming a husband. She was as pretty and perky as a porcelain doll. While she was in town, everyone suspected that a wedding was soon to come for them...and it almost did. However, she had a dark side to her personality that he, in the end, could not tolerate. Louise believed in corporal punishment for children, and Timothy's soft heart couldn't think of hitting children, even if they weren't his own.

Timothy and Louise had a long history, even before she tried to move to Colorado Springs. He'd rejected once her as a boy. He didn't know what he wanted at the tender age of seventeen! Before he'd discovered her terrible true self years later, he'd so regretted doing so. He felt that seeing her again was serendipitous and the will of God. It had only turned out to be another test of his faith and his own morals.

The most tender memory he had of her was of teaching her the piano, then playing a lullaby for her, holding her hand over the keys, and then sharing with her a soft, holy kiss. Afterwards, he could never play the lullaby again. He had been in love with Louise to be sure. But even then, what perplexed him was he'd never had those lustful thoughts that he had with Lucy. And he wasn't even in love with Lucy! He'd only spoken with her just once!

He thought, perhaps, that it was his conscience tell him to make amends with Lucy Greene, and to explain that he really didn't leave her by the brook to be rude or because he was taken aback by her opinion. And he had to do it sooner rather than later.

* * *

Walking outside, the Saturday midday was glorious, if not a little humid from the rains the previous night. Putting on his hat and straightening his tie, Timothy decided immediately that he should go towards the hotel and call on Lucy directly. But then he thought the better of it, realizing that she would probably be working the lunch shift at Grace's anyway.

As he crossed the bridge to enter Colorado Springs' main road, he began to hear flute music drifting through the air, sounding like it was coming from outside of the general store. He smiled. Sometimes the people of the town still surprised him. Was it any wonder more people were settling in places like this? Surely in cities people didn't sit around outside, blowing on a flute or a harmonica.

He could see a small group gathered around what looked like three older men playing a flute, a fiddle, and spoons. A few children were dancing around them carelessly, and even a few young couples were stepping to the music. It was almost surprising to see Loren standing in the doorway to the shop, actually looking amused as opposed to annoyed (which he would be on most days regardless of who was blocking the entrance to his store). People clapped in rhythm, watching the dancers and giving the occasional 'whoop' to cheer them on.

As he made his way over, several of the onlookers greeted him with courtesy. Timothy smiled and began clapping his hands along with them.

That was when Lucy came out, twirling madly among the dancers, her purple skirt almost knocking a young boy over as it billowed out. Her feet were keeping rhythm in a most unusual way (and those boots had clearly seen better days). She was tapping with her heel instead of her toe, and skipping around in a way Timothy had never seen before.

"What's that one doing?" someone asked.

"I'm not sure…I think it's an Irish step."

"You mean a jig?"

Lucy's hair was loose today, and Timothy could barely see her face, for it was obscured by her bouncy hair as she moved faster and faster, eventually picking up double-time.

Then she stopped short, even as the music crescendoed. She looked straight at Timothy, her eyes stern and set. Timothy stopped clapping as she walked towards him, holding out her hand in offering.

"Dance with me?" she mouthed. Timothy couldn't hear her voice against the loud music and cheering crowd. He shrugged and shook his head. Lucy frowned.

"Please?" she mouthed. Before he could process his reply, Timothy felt himself being pushed forward towards her. He could only steady himself…by taking her hand.

Taking this as a 'yes,' Lucy brought him out into the center of the circle and took his arm. Confused and flustered, Timothy could only obey. He began smiling and laughing as Lucy led him around in circles faster and faster. After he regained his rhythm, Timothy suddenly took the lead (as the man should do in a dance) and took Lucy's waist. Lucy responded by putting her hand on his shoulder and letting him twirl her around, as if he were showing off his girl. Her face reddened, and they both began panting for breath.

The music built up one last time as they did a promenade step around the circle. After the song ended, everyone cheered and applauded the dancers. Lucy took Timothy's hand and bowed dramatically. Timothy laughed, took off his hat, and copied.

By the time he'd bowed, Lucy had let go of his hand and left the group entirely. Timothy saw her ducking past Loren into the store. The musicians took up a rendition of 'Beautiful Dreamer." Timothy went into the store after her, finding her where Loren kept the books. She was still catching her breath.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" he asked softly. Lucy was startled, but kept her calm.

"Back in Brooklyn, us children would watch street performers play, and they'd let us request songs for a penny. Many of the children were Irish immigrants and they'd teach the rest of us how to step dance. It's what the peasants used to do to pass the time back in Ireland, they said," Lucy explained. "I'm pretty sure I have Irish ancestors too, but my parents and grandparents were born in New York."

"Sounds like fun," he replied.

"Dancing makes me miss home sometimes," Lucy sighed, browsing the spines of the books.

"Are…are you looking for a book in particular?"

Lucy shook her head. "Anything history," she mumbled. "I love reading about the old kings and queens of Europe."

"Even the tyrants?" Timothy asked.

"Especially the tyrants!" Lucy grinned. "You can learn the most from the failed rulers, don't you agree, Reverend?"

"I guess so!" Timothy replied. "I don't think you will find very much. Most of what Loren keeps are cookbooks and Bibles. Not that there is anything wrong with—"

"—very well. I guess I might as well give you what you came to me for," Lucy interrupted. She looked him in the eye, and Timothy could see there was some remorse in them.

"What do you think that is, Lucy?"

"An apology for my ramblings last week. I shouldn't be discussing secular thinking with a parson, and I should have closed my mouth and minded my own business. I keep forgetting I'm not in New York anymore. People out here are more religious, and trust me, I do believe in God…I just…question Him more than people out here. I really hope you can find it in you not to see what I said as an affront…"

Lucy rambled on like that for almost a solid minute. Without even thinking, Timothy put his index finger against her lips and hushed her gently.

"Lucy, I came here to apologize to YOU for being rude. You said nothing to offend me. I thought you were avoiding me because of how I left you by the creek at the picnic!" he said.

He removed his finger from her lip. Lucy admitted to herself how soft it had felt…so nice.

She opened her jaw to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, she just nodded and said too words: "Very well."

"You forgive me?" Timothy asked timidly. Lucy shrugged.

"I was never upset with you," she said. "More so I was upset with myself."

"I could never be upset with you," Timothy whispered.

"You obviously don't know me well enough, then," Lucy joked. "Maybe we should remedy that."

"Excuse me?" Timothy asked, startled.

"Get to know each other more sometime," Lucy suggested. "That way, you can learn enough about me to run away while you still can!"

They both laughed. After they subsided, they both stood there silently for a moment, listening to 'Beautiful Dreamer' playing outside. Lucy began swaying her hips to the song.

Timothy cleared his throat. "Do you play music as well as you dance to it?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not," she answered.

"Would you like me to teach you? I have a piano at the church, and I could show you how to play sometime."

"I…I have to get over to Grace's," Lucy stammered, suddenly darting past him and towards the door. Timothy's heart sank at her reaction.

But she turned back and said with confidence, "I'll come by tonight at eight o'clock. I'd like for you to teach me a song, Piano Man."

As far as Timothy's heart had been able to sink, it rose again in triumph twice as high.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**__ Whenever I feature music in a story, I like to let readers know about it so they can listen to it when they read the scene. The piece that inspired me to write the dance scene in this chapter was River's Dance from the TV show Firefly. You can find the song on Youtube!_


	6. Auf dem Wasser zu singen

_Waves…waves rippling over a small mountains stream…_

Lucy could hear Timothy's playing as she walked up the steps of the church. The music was soft, tranquil, and reminded her of the irregular rhythm of ripples in a freshwater tributary trickling along. She stood before the doorway a moment, just to take in the beautiful melody.

Timothy sat at the far end of the church, behind his pulpit, where the small piano had always been. He was concentrating hard on the piece, which was fairly complicated. He missed an occasional note, but he was enjoying every note he got correct.

Lucy opened the door and began walking down the aisle slowly. When Timothy heard her approaching, he stopped short.

Lucy frowned. "Keep playing. That's a lovely piece."

"It's a difficult piece for a reverend to get right," he replied. "But when I was little, it was a newly-composed song, and I'd listen to the man who owned the music shop practice it."

"It reminds me of the brook. It's very…watery."

Timothy looked up at her and smiled. "I always thought of a rain shower myself," he said. "But—"

"—it's so relaxing. I bet it would make a nice lullaby."

Timothy's heart fluttered. He motioned for her to come and sit by him on the piano bench. Lucy obeyed and sighed.

"There are so many keys on this thing. How do you know what key makes which sound?"

"You practice until your head remembers it on it's own," Timothy explained.

"I can't memorize song notes," Lucy mumbled. "I can remember words from books much better."

"Then maybe let's try it this way…would you mind…?" Timothy gestured as if he was about to take her hand. Lucy nodded her consent, and he picked up her hand—calloused and muscular—in his. He then laid her finger on a white piano key and tapped it. The sound was low.

"Now, Lucy, make up a word that will correspond only to that note," Timothy suggested. Luicy thought a moment.

"….to?"

Timothy nodded and continued to the next note…a few keys higher. He looked ast Lucy after she played it.

"Sing."

Again, he guided her hand to a key.

"On…the…water…"

"Now, let's review what you've done so far," he said gently, letting go of Lucy's hand and encouraging her to repeat. Lucy hit every note as she spoke the words.

"To sing on the water…" she smiled up at Timothy. He grinned with delight and took her hand again.

"You are a fast learner, Louise!"

Lucy's heart suddenly fell, and she pulled her hand away. "Who's Louise?"

Timothy instantly realized his mistake. "Oh no, Lucy—"

"—it's nice to know I'm so memorable," she sighed, getting up from the bench and gathering her skirt. "This was obviously not a good idea."

"Lucy! Wait! I can explain!" Timothy went up after her as she headed up the aisle and for the door. She stopped and turned back to him.

"Do I remind you of a former courtship or something?" she asked rather forcefully. She was certainly quick to anger.

"NO!" Timothy assured. He took her hand and beckoned her to sit with him in a pew. Lucy grunted but followed him. "Let me explain, Lucile. Please?"

"Fine," she said.

Timothy began explaining his past with a woman named Louise Chambers, and how he had intended to marry her until he learned who she really was.

"Wait…she did WHAT to her students?" Lucy asked.

Timothy nodded. "She took the concept of discipline too far. Many of them did very little to warrant the bruises and welts."

Lucy shook her head. "I pity her."

"Pity her?" Timothy asked, confused.

Lucy nodded. "She was clearly afraid of those children. No one gets physical against someone smaller than themselves unless they want something from them. This Louise was obviously trying to get her students to fear her so that she wouldn't have to fear them first."

"That's quite insightful," Timothy noted.

"I told you that I read a lot of history. Many despots in time had the same fear of the meek, because they knew that the meek were the source of their power. Without keeping them in control, they lose their power," Lucy said. "Like Caesar Augustus and King Henry VIII—"

"—the Pharaoh who kept the Israelites as slaves until Moses freed them?" Timothy offered.

Lucy smiled. "Precisely."

Timothy felt his face blush (luckily his beard hid much of the redness). "Lucy, you're such a smart woman, and kind…full of fiery passion…"

He didn't expect Lucy leaning in to gently touch her lips to his. She didn't hit them directly…she got the corner of his mouth with her lips. But the kiss was gentle and thrilling at the same time. Timothy pulled away after a moment to catch his breath.

"This is how it happened with Louise before," he warned. "I was teaching her piano…showing her where her fingers went…and we kissed—"

"—don't insult me," Lucy said stiffly. "I'm not that dragon lady. I would never lay a hand on a child like that. You have to see some differences between us!"

"Well, yes," he replied. "You're much less formal, and a lot easier to talk to."

_A start,_ Lucy thought.

"Louise always had some sort of need to be proper, which is fine. It would've made her a great mother. She just didn't like children." Timothy sighed and stared down at his feet. "I…I thought I'd forgotten her by now."

"You were tricked because of love," Lucy said. "I think I should go…"

She got up and went for the door, but stopped in the frame for a moment. "And I do want children, you know."

Timothy looked up at her. She looked particularly beautiful at that moment. The bright moonlight created another halo around her red hair, much in the way the sun had when he'd first seen her. God was here, looking out for his angel on Earth. The mere thought inspired him to stand up and brush off the bout of melancholia over Louise. "You do?"

"I haven't had them yet because most men don't like the way I want to raise them," she sighed.

"How, then?" Timothy asked. Lucy looked outside.

"I want to raise them equally with their father," she said. "I don't want to be a homemaker and child-rearer. I want their father to be equally involved in their healthcare, education, and raising. But most men I've meet feel like it's the woman's job to stay in the home."

"I see nothing wrong with that. In fact, I think that's ideal," Timothy said, approaching Lucy in the doorway.

"Well, that makes you more than any man I've ever met," Lucy whispered. Timothy leaned in closer to her in the doorway.

"Is Preston trying to court you?" he asked. Lucy nodded. "And…?"

Lucy shrugged. "I bought myself some time to make my up my mind."

"Make up your mind?" Timothy asked with patience.

"He's a decent sort, I suppose. Too haughty for me. But I think it's a little early in my tenure here to make rivals," she said. "But I am not romantically attracted to him."

Timothy felt his shoulders drop in relief.

"I couldn't possibly tie myself to such a scoundrel," she mumbled on. "He asked me about…my history."

"Oh? Oh!" Timothy took a second to realize what she was referring to.

"It was humiliating. And an example of why I don't want certain men as my lawfully wedded husband!"

Timothy nodded. "I understand."

Lucy looked up at Timothy and smiled. He wasn't ruggedly handsome like that husband of the town doctor, nor authoritative like the mayor, nor even dashing and witty like Preston. But he was even more than that. His gentle, kind eyes that had seen the ups and downs of life and yet smiled now at her as if nothing else mattered. His teeth were straight and only a little yellowed by age.

What's more, he listened to her. And cared.

"Will you be at church tomorrow?" he asked. Lucy grinned and nodded in the affirmative.

"I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps afterwards we can go back to the brook, you and I. And I promise I won't abandon you this time!"

Lucy giggled. "I have no doubt about that, Reverend—"

"—Timothy. I would be pleased if you called me Timothy."

* * *

The next morning was warm and wonderful. Lucy sat in the window of her little room overlooking the town and brushed her hair (always a long chore). She was given the afternoon off by Grace (it was, after all, Sunday), and she had decided to ask Timothy to teach her how to ride a horse. Yes, she really wanted to learn, too, but she also admitted to herself that she wanted more time with him. His was a personality that interested her deeply.

As she struggled with the yellow ribbon she was using to tied back her hair, her eyes followed a dusty stagecoach rolling through the street below, stopping in front of the store. After a moment, a woman was guided out by the coachman. A pretty blonde woman (at least 30) wearing a rusty red dress and cap stepped out into the sun. She looked rather dignified and sophisticated, but at the same time was clearly trying to make herself seems as small and invisible as possible. Lucy couldn't imagine why…she was pretty.

Her gaze was interrupted by a small stone hitting the window pane, startling her. She looked down and saw that it was Preston who'd thrown the pebble. He smiled and waved up at her.

Lucy gave a curt nod and moved away from the window awkwardly.


	7. By The Brook Again

While church was still a foreign territory to her, Lucy admitted to herself it was growing more pleasant to be there. She still stood in the back of the room (there wasn't enough room, and she was strong enough to stand on her own anyways) in order to allow the families and children of Colorado Springs their usual places. She still felt like she had to earn a seat. Maybe with time.

Timothy was speaking with particular passion that morning, discussing the tale of Esther and its proof that anyone could rise up to save a nation if they were called by God to do so. Lucy appreciated the story…after all, it was about a woman saving a nation!

Preston kept trying to find excuses to turn around in his seat to steal glimpses of her. Every time he did, it was more and more obvious, and Lucy felt more and more compelled to look away. It was getting embarrassing having his attention, and she still hadn't managed to fully put aside his prying into her love life. She may have been a 'modern' woman, but a woman still had a sense of modesty if she wanted one. Lucy knew that to earn respect here, she'd have to keep that sense of modesty. For now.

For some reason, the blonde woman from the coach hadn't appeared again. Lucy didn't think twice about her.

The Reverend had to linger in the chapel to greet his flock, so Lucy waited outside for him in the open air for their trip to the brook. Looking around her as people began to flow into the world again, she noticed how content these simple people were, with their families close by and their refreshed belief in God. They were nothing like the families in Hell's Kitchen. The tenements always overflowed with screams and arguments in three or four different languages. Men were annoyed of their offspring, and their wives grunted as they did housework. The hallways reeked of alcohol and poverty. Families coming out of churches on Sundays didn't stroll leisurely down the roads. Instead, they rushed to market to buy bread for supper before it went stale.

After a week, Lucy was beginning to grow fond of the fact that the town shut down at sunset (aside from the saloon). At first, her ears rang at night from the lack of noise. Now, she slept deeply and fully, and it was beginning to show in her attitude towards the morning. Now she awoke with a sense of encouragement, ready to face the sun. In New York, she was groggy and irritable until she'd drunk at least two mugs of cheap coffee, after which the day was tolerable at best.

"Lucy!"

Lucy turned to see Grace walking towards her. Robert E walked just behind her, carrying a sleeping Solomon.

"Hello, Grace," Lucy smiled.

"What on Earth were you standing in the back of church for?" she asked. Lucy shrugged silently.

"You know we can hold Solomon on my lap if you need the room," Robert E added.

"Well, thank you," Lucy said, honored. "But only if you'll be comfortable with it."

"Well, I know Mr. Lodge would be a bit more comfortable with it," Grace giggled. Lucy's smile dropped.

"He wasn't hiding it very well, was he?"

"It's not like him at all, so I can't imagine he knows how to hide it," Grace replied. "Last time he showed affections towards a woman…well…it was complicated anyway, but let's just say it didn't end well."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lucy said quietly.

"Grace, the poor girl looks uncomfortable," Robert E mumbled. "Let's get home."

"Oh I'm sorry if I did make you feel uncomfortable, but I was coming over to ask if you were willing to take a few hours at the café by yourself tomorrow afternoon. I have an appointment with Dr. Mike," Grace admitted. Lucy shrugged.

"Of course."

"Not many people stop by on Monday afternoons. Our only regular is the Reverend. He'll take a cup of tea and make notes in his Bible for an hour if the day is nice," Grace continued.

At hearing 'the Reverend,' Lucy perked up like a puppy hearing his food bowl being filled. "Does he? Good!"

Grace raised an eyebrow and looked at her husband. This was a reaction she wasn't expecting.

"I can cover breakfast so you'll be rested," she said. "We're going to go home now, so we'll see you tomorrow?"

Lucy nodded. As the young family walked off, Lucy saw Preston out of the corner of her eye advancing on her with a prideful grin.

_Oh for Pete's sake…_

"Oh! My bonnet! I left it by the brook!" she quickly yelled (so that Preston could hear from the few yards away he was). Pretending she didn't see him, Lucy darted around him, knocking into his shoulder as she passed.

Running for the brook, Lucy began laughing as she caught glances behind her. Preston stood bewildered in her wake as her ruse sunk in.

The green afternoon flew past her as she found the brook again. Her hair became loose in the wind and fell out of the braid she'd tied it in. She finally stopped to catch her breath before sinking into the grass, still laughing. It was a schoolyard ruse she'd learned from her female classmates to use when she wanted to avoid a boy flirting with her. She'd initially thought the game a bit coquettish, but now that it had come in handy, she was thankful she'd learned it.

Lucy sat next to the creek and smiled to herself as she awaited Timothy's arrival.

* * *

A flash of red among the green grass alerted Timothy to where Lucy waited for him. There she sat, looking blankly forward, as pretty as he'd yet seen her. Her face was red from the sun.

"You should mind your bonnet," he called as he came near enough to speak. Lucy turned to him and sighed peacefully.

"I don't own one," she admitted. "A sun rash won't kill me, and I'm already plain as it is, so a red face won't make any difference."

Timothy clicked his tongue and offered out his hand as he approached her. "All of God's creatures have beauty in them. Don't criticize His great work or suggest it is worth less than it is."

"I must have been the practice template, then," Lucy replied, taking his hand. Timothy helped her to her feet, and let his hand linger on hers for a moment before dropping it again. Her hand felt soft and cool in his.

"I enjoyed your message today," she added. Timothy smiled.

"I must admit, you inspired me in its conception," he said with humility. Lucy's eyes grew wide. If her cheeks weren't already sunburned, they would've begun blushing, adding to her loveliness.

"How?" she asked, smiling.

Timothy didn't want to convey the entire story. The story of how, after she'd left last night, he'd spent the next several hours day dreaming like a schoolboy over her. How some of those daydreams weren't completely honorable, either. He had dreamed of having her under the night sky of some remote forest after their wedding and how her kisses would give him renewed energy with every passing hour to continue to enjoy their carnal pleasures. Then, after he'd come to and prayed for forgiveness from God for the lustful thoughts, he'd opened his Bible to the story of the woman that Lucy had most reminded Timothy of: that of the courageous and independent Esther, who stood up for herself, her people, and her beliefs in the face of death. Then, as he climbed into bed at two in the morning, he'd had another dream of Lucy, felt another arousal developing, and quickly put himself to sleep before more could happen.

"Esther had the resolve to save an entire people from the wrath of one. You've faced adversity too in your life in New York. I had hoped you would've felt that I was speaking of you today," Timothy abridged.

"I…I…oh," was all Lucy could get out. "I never imagined you thought so highly of me."

"Are you embarrassed?"

Lucy shook her head vigorously. "No! No! No! Just the opposite! I'm…I didn't think I'd ever arouse the admiration of a clergyman. I'm not the type to do that, really."

Timothy leaned in and closed the gap between them. "If I make you feel humiliated, please let me know, and I will leave you alone, I promise."

"I kissed you last night, not the other way around," Lucy sighed. "I should think I was making you feel awkward."

"Not at all," Timothy whispered.

"I'm not worth your attention. I'm just a wanderer from Brooklyn," Lucy said. "And an agnostic at that."

"God doesn't care if a Reverend spends his time with a princess or a beggar. As long as His will is done," Timothy added. "You're a wonderful woman, Lucy. Beautiful, brave, and smart."

"I've never met a man like you," Lucy said. "How can a man who's had women let him down before be yet so gentle and admirable around a nobody like me?"

"A nobody?" Timothy whispered. "Lucy, you're everything…"

"…you talk as if we're courting…"

The tension was solid as the space between them closed. He knew he wanted her lips on his again. Lucy gazed up at him and held her breath.

"How fast has this happened between us…" she whispered. "It's crazy."

"Lucy, do you think we should—"

Just before Timothy kissed her, a rude interruption halted the tender interaction.

"Did you find your bonnet, Lucile?"

Timothy and Lucy looked behind them, where Preston Lodge III stood a few feet off, looking indignant.

Timothy's shoulders dropped. Lucy cleared her throat and clenched her fists.

"I should say you've forgotten about it, seeing as the Reverend here distracted you. You're as red as an apple."

"Have you been looking for me, then?" Lucy said deeply.

"No," he said quickly. "I was actually showing off the land to a new arrival. The lady came in on the stage this morning and I was being a good host to Ms. Chambers—"

"—who?!" Timothy's reaction to the name uttered was reflexive, and enough to startle both himself and Lucy.

Preston gestured behind him to a woman just now catching up, working her way through the tall grass. It was the pretty woman in the rust dress from the hotel that morning. Lucy looked curiously at the stranger. But the new woman only had eyes for Timothy.

Preston gave a curt not to the woman and introduced her with a gentleman's grace. "This is Ms. Louise Chambers. She lived here some time ago and is just returning now. Ms. Chambers, this is our Reverend Timothy Johnson and Ms. Lucile Greene, who I've been getting to know quite well over the past week."

Ms. Louise Chambers looked at Timothy without the least hint of surprise or embarrassment. Timothy began to sweat.

"Wait…this is…?" Lucy mumbled.

"Yes. Ms. Greene, this is my…my FORMER…fiancée."

_Dear Lord, why do you try me again?_


	8. Beauty and the Beast

"You remember her, then? Fantastic." Preston said with glee before making eye contact with Lucy. "Why don't we leave them to get re-acquainted and head back to town, Lucile?"

"Now wait a moment, Preston, Timothy and I were talking—"

"—it's alright, Ms. Greene. Go ahead with him," Timothy said, his voice much lower and sterner. Ms. Chambers gazed at Lucy as she shot him a look of offense and surprise. "Ms. Chambers must be here for some very important reason, otherwise…she wouldn't be here at all. I think it best if you go now."

_Ms. Greene? _

"Yes, well, perhaps we can persuade Loren to open up shop long enough for me to buy you a bonnet," Preston firmly suggested. Lucy's mouth was still open, shocked and hurt at Timothy's sudden dismissal of her.

"I…I would appreciate that, Preston," she finally conceded. "I'm sure the Reverend and his long lost lover will have a splendid time getting re-acquainted." Stubborn as a mule and twice as agitated, Lucy quickly broke away from Timothy and made a beeline for Preston's waiting arm, which she let take her arm and lead her away towards town.

In her upset, she didn't look back once. If she had, she would have seen Timothy gazing longingly after her as she walked away.

* * *

"I thought we were here for a bonnet, not a dime novel," Preston said lightly, moving behind the bookcase where Lucy had taken up a hardbound book that piqued her interest. Preston looked at the book's gilded title: _The Blue Fairy Book._

"A children's book?" he asked. Lucy looked up from the book with a queer, offended look in her eye.

"Don't be so condescending," she retorted strictly. "I love fairy stories even now. And I heard about this fellow, Andrew Lang, and how he traveled the world just to collect the stories to form this treasury."

Preston smiled, genuinely amused. "I must say, you surprise me, Lucile."

"I surprise most people. It's when people surprise me that we being to have issues."

"The Reverend having a fiancée, you mean?"

"No."

Lucy came out from behind the bookcase with Preston following. She went up to the counter, where Loren Bray was giving her a dour look.

"I opened up the store on the Lord's Day so you could by a story book?" He scowled.

"No, and this, Mr. Bray," Preston slid a straw bonnet decorated with violet ribbons, onto the counter top after the book. "And remember, I promised to pay you double the price for your trouble."

"In my day, a man courted a lady with flowers and chocolates, not gaudy hats and novels," Loren mumbled back. "And I highly doubt you'd be able to afford my SUNDAY prices. Aren't you still in debt?"

"Yes, but sometimes someone comes along who may be worth more than all credit and any debt," Preston answered. This made Lucy look over at him with a pleasantly surprised countenance.

"Preston, I—"

"—that will be three dollars and twelve cents," Loren said stiffly. Preston nodded and took his wallet out of his breast pocket, paying Loren without another word.

"I thank you for going to the trouble, Mr. Bray. Lucile, shall we?" He offered his hand to her again. This time, she took it willingly and let her suitor guide her into the street and down the road.

After a considerable silence, Lucy broke it by expressing her gratitude. "That was very kind of you, Preston. Not just buying the book for me, but what you said."

"About what?"

"About me being worth more than money," Lucy continued. "No one's every said that to me before."

"Lucile, I know I've behaved rather haughtily, and I've had time to think about it. You've only been in town for over a week and I think I came on too strongly from the get-go."

"I concur," Lucy added. "Your interrogation of my private affairs Friday night didn't win you much favor in my mind."

"Yes, well…I'm not used to being nervous around people," Preston continued.

"I thought someone like you was never nervous."

"On the contrary," Preston sighed. "Before you came here…in fact it was a few years ago now…the bank collapse hit the town hard, and it hit me more than anyone. I…I let down a lot of people, and most of them still haven't forgiven me."

"I barely remember that happening," Lucy said. "Manhattan felt the effects more than Brooklyn."

"I'm bouncing back, and I'm doing it honestly this time. But I still am a pariah, and the past few years have humbled me a bit. But old habits die hard, and when I want to impress someone, I go on the offensive. I get…aggressive," he confessed.

Lucy absorbed all of this with sympathy and shame for her own treatment of him before.

"Then you were pushed off of that train, and I saw you and I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. I saw your hair setting the air on fire. I never knew anyone so pretty could also be so strong and independent. I…I panicked and regressed back into my old self. The self that betrayed Colorado Springs a long time ago." Preston pulled a handkerchief out of his sleeve and wiped his forehead.

"But you're not a beast?" Lucy asked.

"Don't judge me based on what you saw after nine days," Preston insisted. "Don't judge anybody based on first impressions."

Lucy sighed. "I think I've made that mistake already."

"Oh?"

"With Timoth-the Reverend Johnson," Lucy sighed. "He was so sensitive and sincere. I thought a parson wasn't one to sweet-talk a lady."

"The Reverend sweet-talked you?" Preston asked. "He seemed rather quick to be rid of you earlier."

"Exactly."

"Lucile," Preston turned in front of Lucy and stopped her in order to face her head-on. "You're sweet on him, aren't you?"

Lucy shook her head. "I thought I was until an hour ago. But I see I let myself feel too much beyond my place here. I'm still a new person. I'm an outcast."

"And so we both are, it seems," Preston added.

Lucy smiled and opened her new fairytale book. "Would you mind I read something to you? I..I think we both can identify with this story."

"A child's story?" Preston asked skeptically.

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Humor me, please. It's about looking beyond first impressions and finding real love in the last place you'd expect. It's called Beauty and the Beast."

Preston looked into Lucy's eye and felt his chest flutter. He smiled.

"I just hope you aren't calling me a beast," he laughed.

Lucy flipped through the book to the story with a smirk on her face. "Are you saying I'm not a beauty?"

"I can't possibly say that. It's a lie," Preston replied. Lucy could feel herself blush under her burned cheeks. "I just…want you to give me a real chance before you dismiss me again."

Lucy nodded. "I will, Preston."

Then she began her story.

"Once upon a time, there was an old merchant with three daughters, all beautiful. But the youngest daughter was the most beautiful of all…"

* * *

"Why are you back?" Timothy asked.

Louise Chambers had aged remarkably in the years since their last meeting. Wrinkles lined her face. Her hair was no longer bright blonde but beginning to dull and fade to gray. She was still pretty, but she wasn't the brightest star in the sky anymore. Far from it. The one part of her that hadn't aged were her eyes, and they were only young and vibrant because they were steel, and steel never aged.

"I'm only passing through," she admitted. "I'll be here for three weeks until a train comes through heading to California. I could've gone by way of Missouri and been there by next week. But…I had to see you."

"Again I ask…why?" Timothy repeated.

"We never said goodbye last time," Louise answered. "We didn't leave on good terms."

"I broke off our engagement because of your treatment of children!" Timothy protested. "I had seen you as what you showed me, not as what you were."

"And what was I, Timothy?"

"A child abuser," he replied, turning away. "I may not be young and spry anymore, but I still find that I have more in common with the heart of a child than I do with yours."

"Abuse! Everyone insists it was abuse," Louise scoffed. "It was what I myself was taught, and I still am not ashamed of it."

"That doesn't excuse it," Timothy retorted. "How can you imagine I'd be happy to see you?"

"Well, you sent that redhead away quickly enough. You did want to see me again. If you did not, you wouldn't have dismissed her."

Timothy bit his lip. He had been incredibly rude to her in the heat of the moment. And she walked off with Preston. There was no telling what move he was planning to make on Lucy next.

"I was indeed unkind to her. And I will beg for her forgiveness soon enough, even though I'm not worthy of it."

Louise drew a deep breath. "She's your wife, then."

Timothy sighed and shook his head. "She was abandoned here last week on her way to California. I have been getting to know her, but no, we are not attached in any way beyond acquaintance."

"Just as well. She is just a child herself from the look of it," Louise dismissed.

"Oh, but she isn't. She is far more of a woman than you still are."

"Timothy, how can you use such venomous words against me? We aren't a couple anymore, but we have a history that is longer than that redheaded girl's entire lifespan! Would you throw away our friendship over a botched romance?"

Timothy turned his back on her and stared out onto the creek.

"I prayed for months that your return was imminent, Louise. I felt as if I'd made a mistake in letting you leave. But God told me that what I did was right. We may have had love between us once. But not all feelings last forever. God had something better somewhere for me. I've been through the worst of times to arrive there, but I am arriving there. I can feel it. And you aren't supposed to be there waiting for me."

"Are you saying God separated us? How could you possibly fathom such a thing?" Louise said with injury. "I thought what we had was beautiful and you destroyed it because of how you feel about children!"

Timothy shrugged. "Christ himself bade the children come to him, and He took them upon his lap, as gentle as a shepherd would the littlest lamb."

"I still don't see your reason for letting me go."

"Because…I want to be a father," Timothy confessed. "I am not young, but I still feel as if it could happen."

"And as I said long ago, you have an entire congregation of people! It wasn't God telling you otherwise, it was greed!" Louise accused.

"That might be, Louise, but I've come to admire my decision, and I wouldn't take it back for the world."

After another elongated moment of silence, Louise spoke again.

"I will still be here for three weeks, Timo—Reverend Johnson," she said coldly. "And know that I won't pursue you. I am an old maid and I accept that as my lot in life. I have a placing in a small hamlet outside of San Francisco, and I will be gone forever when that train comes for me, whether I am alone, or if I manage to find a companion."

"A what?"

Louise walked closer to Timothy, as stiff-backed and straight-laced as she ever had been.

"I am in the market for a female traveling companion to take with me. I will pay for her train fare, and her living expenses until she can find other work upon our arrival. I may be heartless to the likes of you and men, but I am still lonely, and I am through traveling by myself. I'm sure there is some young lady in Colorado Springs who wants to see the world and has no ties here…perhaps that red-haired girl," Louise explained. "What is her name?"

"Her name is Lucile. Lucile Greene," Timothy said quietly. He smiled at the thought of Lucy traveling west in the employ of Louise Chambers. The two were night and day. Louise used intimidation and force to hide the fact that she feared chaos and the unknown. Lucy was chaos in its true character, a girl who would let the wind carry her with it if she could. They would prove a disastrous match.

"Well, I will have to speak with her while I'm here," Louise noted. "But I'm tired from my travels. Will you at least escort me back into town?"

"Very well," Timothy consented.

By the time Timothy and Louise reached the main road, it was halfway through the afternoon. Timothy quickly dropped Louise off at the hotel as if she were a pest he felt compelled to desert, and went back towards the chapel.

As he passed the telegraph office, he found Preston and Lucy sitting on the steps, a book open in Lucy's hands, and Preston smiling with admiration looking over her shoulder at the text as she read.

"…the Beast collapsed onto the grass, and as Belle wrapped her arms around him, he faded away into the blackness of death. Belle cried out to him one last time, proclaiming her love for the creature, and no sooner had the tears begun to fall from her eyes that the body before her had disappeared, and in its place there stood, healthy and strong, a handsome prince. 'I am your Beast,' he answered her puzzled gaze. 'And I pray that—"

"Reverend?" Preston interrupted. Lucy looked up to see Timothy standing before them.

"I am sorry to interrupt you, but I was hoping—" before he continued, he removed his hat in respect. "-I was hoping to speak privately with Lucy."

Preston looked at Lucy, whose face betrayed her hurt from earlier, and her cold stubbornness now.

"Mr. Lodge and I were engaged in a story, sir," she explained. "It is very rude of you to interrupt and assume that I will just abandon my present company in order to indulge you. Especially after how you were so willing to abandon your company an hour ago."

"Lucy—" Timothy began to protest. Lucy shook her head.

"I will speak with you tomorrow afternoon at the café. I am working by myself and I am told you are the only Monday regular at that time," she insisted. "If what you wish to say is so important, then you will keep the appointment as I have proposed it and leave Mr. Lodge and I now," she finished.

Preston worked hard to hide his amusement. Even Lucy herself was surprised at how cold she sounded, almost lawyer-like. It wasn't her usual conduct.

It didn't take Timothy a moment to accept the appointment and to obey Lucy's request. He respectfully bowed his head and silently replaced his hat.

"Until then," he remarked, and left the pair on the steps, his tail between his legs. Lucy did not waste any more time with the tense moment.

Timothy could hear her finish her tale as he walked away.

"—"I am your Beast, and I pray that you will allow me to offer you my hand, my heart, and my life." Belle, in her rapture, accepted the prince's proposal. The two were married that very evening, and they lived in happiness and splendor all the days of their lives."


	9. To Be So Blessed

"Are you certain that Mondays are always this...slow?" Lucy asked. . It was close to noon, and aside from five-or-so tables at breakfast, Grace's Cafe had been virtually empty. Grace, standing over a pot of steaming soup, nodded.

"Something about Mondays always keeps things down here," she replied, stirring the soup. Lucy inhaled the aroma. Even outdoors, she could smell the savory chicken broth flood her nostrils. There was a hint of cabbage as well, but it only blended with the dominant smell of the chicken.

"I wish I could cook," Lucy said, drying the last dish of the morning.

"You can't cook?" Grace asked lightly, with perhaps a hint of teasing.

Lucy shook her head and set the dish aside. "I was a maid in New York, not a cook. The boardinghouse had a separate chef to make meals, or the matron would do the task.

"I only know of a few women in town who don't cook. Dr. Mike is one of them," Grace noted.

"Well, she's too busy breaking gender molds," Lucy said with a smile.

"That she is," Grace said admiringly.

Lucy looked off in the direction of the church. The notion had been eating away at her since yesterday: had she been too hard on Timothy? It was probable, and he probably wasn't even used to a woman rebuffing him. One thing Lucy had picked up on immediately was the general passiveness and conservatism the ladies adopted in Colorado.

"Back in New York, ladies, especially ladies from poor families, are braver than what I've seen out here," she sighed. "Whole groups of women came together in public to demand things limke suffrage and more rights, and men support them."

"You wont find that so quickly in Colorado Springs," Grace rebuffed. "Men out here still think they deserve to be the heads of the town, and women belong in the home with children."

"I guess that's why I haven't made any real friends out here yet," Lucy mulled. Grace stopped stirring and looked at Lucy with disbelief.

"That's not what I hear. I hear you've made two special friends already..."

"Who?" Lucy asked. Grace raised an eyebrow.

"A certain Mr. Lodge and a certain Reverend-"

"-Oh dear," Lucy groaned softly. Rumors were abound already?

"Truly, this is a small town," was her answer. "I mean, Preston is a decent sort, I suppose. But I...the Reverend...I mean..."

"I hope I'm not too early for lunch?" chirped a voice behind Lucy as she stuttered. She turned to see Timothy's Louise Chambers standing before her. Grace quickly (almost too quickly) went back to tending the chicken soup. Lucy shook her head.

"Of course not," she said with courtesy. "Please have a seat right here."

Lucy guided Louise to the nearest table and seated her. "May I take your order or would you like to hear the menu?"

"I'd just like a cup of coffee to start," Louise said curtly.

"Right away."

Lucy dashed inside to pour coffee into a ceramic mug. Grace met her in the doorway.

"Why is she back?" Grace mumbled.

"That woman?" Lucy indicated. "I hear her previous stay in town was met with...shall we say...mixed reviews."

"That's a polite way to put it," Grace scoffed. Lucy decided to ignore the sudden rudeness in Grace's tone and rushed out with the coffee.

"Lucile, that was your name, yes?" Louise asked. Lucy nodded silently. "I would like you have a talk with you if you wouldn't mind."

Lucy looked around. No one else seemed to be headed in the cafe's general direction, so she figured a moment wouldn't back things up.

"Please, sit," Louise asked, as if they were sitting in her parlour. Lucy obeyed after another moment's hesitation. "I wanted to talk with you about a job proposal."

This was not what Lucy expected to hear. "A job proposal?"

"Yes," Louise replied. "I am travelling to California and will only be here for three weeks. I hope to find a young lady to be my travelling companion. Once we arrive, I'd let her stay with me until we could secure another job and lodging for her. I just feel lonely sometimes and forget what it's like to have someone, particularly a woman, to talk to."

"California? Where in California?" Lucy asked, her attention now fully on Louise.

"San Francisco," Louise said matter-of-factly.

What luck!

"I was hoping to end up there myself," Lucy admitted. "I...well, let's just say I was stuck here en route from New York."

Louise smiled. Lucy wasn't quite sure what to make of her perfect teeth and enormous dimples. They made her look doll-like and artificial.

"If I hired you, I would compensate you as well. Perhaps fifty cents a day until we found you a room in California."

Fifty cents! That wasn't too bad of a wage at all.

"I will consider it," Lucy said. Louise stifled a giggle.

"Oh, I see the glint in your eye that appeared when I mentioned San Francisco," she mused. "But of course, I will let you decide. But, if you want my two cents, it doesn't seem like there is much here for you."

"Perhaps not," Lucy agreed. "I've been here myself only a few weeks."

"This town doesn't take kindly to women like us. Women who want more than marriage and...children." Louise practically spat out that last word as if it were poison on her tongue.

"Oh, I want that," Lucy retorted. "Perhaps not tomorrow, but I suppose I would like a family one day if I'm so blessed."

"If you're so blessed?" Louise said with mild disdain. "You sound just like Timo-" she stopped herself.

Lucy dropped her shoulders. That was a phrase she never had used before. Was Timothy rubbing off on her so soon?

"Well, I was almost married once, and I thought that maybe I could be a wife. But a mother? No. Children...children are an occupation to me and nothing more. I have no desire to give birth either and lose my fine figure," Louise said with dignity.

Lucy frowned and looked down at her own body, which wasn't at all graceful or frail like Louise's frame. Lucy was aways bigger-boned. She had grown breasts before turning twelve, and her wide hips also sprouted sooner than her female peers in New York. It didn't help that she began her monthly bleeding at that age as well. Overall, Lucy was wide and tall. Not particularly fat, but large. Louise's comment about her figure felt almost like an affront to Lucy.

"Well, I should get back to work," Lucy said quickly. Louise nodded permissively.

"Do think on my offer," she asked. "And...one last thing."

"Yes?"

"Timothy likes his women as tiny and traditional as they come. I was even too progressive for him. It's natural, his being a clergyman, of course. You understand, I'm sure."

Lucy bit her lip and turned away. It seemed to be Louise's special gift, back-handed comments of that caliber.

Grace had been right about her, after all.

* * *

The afternoon passed quietly, and at about four-o-clock, Timothy arrived. Lucy was washing a few mugs in preparation for the dinner rush when he made himself known.

"I'm here," he announced with enthusiasm. Lucy turned around as he tipped his hat respectfully. Lucy felt her heart bounce against her chest.

"Just one moment," she said. Lucy then quick found Grace pulling a blackberry pie from the stove.

"May I have permission to leave for a moment? I have something to settle with The Reverend," Lucy asked.

Grace looked Lucy up and down and set the pie aside. She walked up to Lucy and, without any warning, reached out and tucked some loose tendrils of red hair behind Lucy's ears.

"You have a beautiful face," Grace said softly and kindly. "You should keep your hair back more."

"Thank you," Lucy replied unsteadily. Grace smiled.

"Go. I have everything covered here for now."

Lucy smiled. Grace was such a gentle, motherly soul.

Lucy returned to Timothy a moment later. She was suddenly very conscious not only of her hair and face, but of her large figure and height. Timothy smiled and sighed awkwardly. "Is there anywhere you would prefer to go in order to give us more privacy?"

Lucy shrugged. "Let's just walk."

They did so in silence for several minutes. They crossed the foot bridge and began strolling into the trees.

"About yesterday-" Timothy started.

Lucy quickly interrupted. "-I owe you an apology for yesterday."

"Me? You owe me an apology?" Timothy asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yes," Lucy said. "I treated you very coldly when all you were doing was being polite. I am such a rash, emotionally-driven person that I didn't think to consider your position. I hope that you'll forgive me and not see me as some kind of shrew."

"A shrew?" Timothy asked, chuckling. _If only she knew how I really felt..._

"I know you prefer women to be rather conservative like they are out here, and I know it is what you're used too."

_...they way your words sound like poetry no matter what they are..._

"I know I'm some liberal-minded city girl who literally was thrown off a train as a stowaway, but I can make the effort to be less of an annoyance."

_...the way I see the Miracle of God in your beautiful eyes..._

"I even promise to integrate myself better in the way you'd find acceptable if you'd just give me the second chance."

_...your violent passion and how it makes me feel like no woman ever has before..._

"So please accept my apology, Reverend," Lucy finished. "I hope you'll see fit to forgive me."

_...and how I feel like I've known your for my whole life and can't get along without you..._

"Forgive you?" Timothy replied. "Lucile, you silly woman, I was trying to apologize to you for the way I brushed you aside for Louise yesterday!"

Lucy looked into Timothy's eyes, stopping in her tracks. "So you aren't afraid of me? Or upset with me?"

"How? How can I be upset with you!" Timothy said. He felt his chest loosen and his mind begin speeding by like a train. "Lucy, when I first saw you, lying on my back covered in mud, I thought you were an angel taking me to Heaven! You were the first face I laid my eye on after being blind for years, and I thank God every day that you were there! And these past two weeks I've only felt the need to be beside you grow and grow, as if we've known each other much longer than a fortnight."

Lucy took a long time to process each delicious word Timothy was saying to you. He didn't stop there, either.

"I am supposed to be a quiet, patient man, and I am most of the time. But whenever I see Preston speak with you, it frightens me because I feel as if it is my duty to defend your honor against him, and I feel like I would do something very impatient and very inappropriate of a man of God to him if he ever touched you. I am confused and exicted, I afraid and bold all at once. I don't even know which way is up these days, and yesterday I was going to ask if you would allow me to call on you in a courtly manner before we were interrupted!"

Lucy searched for what felt like a full minute before she could respond. She genuinely felt at a loss for words. Her forehead began to produce a nervous sweat, and her pulse quickened.

"You were going to...ask to court me?" she stuttered, unsure if that was what she even heard.

"Yes," Timothy said after a breath. He toom a second to re-collect his rational thoughts, then took Lucy's hand in his own, looking her in the eye. "Most people don't think a Reverend can feel rash or passionate about a woman...but I'm still a man, too. You make me feel this way, Lucile Greene. I...want to court you if you would accept me."

Lucy felt a tear in her eye. She had the sudden urge to do flips around the glen, screaming at the top of her lungs, letting her limbs fly every which way in a fit of childish happiness. How she kept control of her manner and senses, she wasn't even aware of.

"Preston will be quite disappointed," she laughed. Timothy bit his lip.

"If you would rather wait and see where your relationship with him goes, I understand."

"No," Lucy said quickly. "Preston isn't for me. You are."

Timothy felt a lump rise in his throat. The good kind, the kind that comes when one anticipates a big, happy announcement.

"Timothy...yes. You would make me quite happy if you did call on me."

Timothy couldn't help but allow the lump in his voice to escape as a strong, brief laugh of joy. "Oh, thank you, Lord!"

Lucy joined in his laughter with the same amount of happiness. Timothy moved in closer. Lucy threw her arms around his neck and touched his nose with hers.

"You're certain about this?" she whispered. "I don't want my heart broken by a parson."

"I will never break your heart. I promise this before you and God. I am yours," he replied.

And with those words, he kissed her, moving his lips gingerly over hers as he tightened his embrace. His kiss was gentle and tender, but also confident and passionate.

There they stayed in each others' arms in the middle of the glen until sunset. Lucy had completely forgotten about the dinner shift at Grace's.

_I am so blessed_, she thought as she kissed Timothy and held him tightly to her. _Perhaps I am blessed after all._

* * *

The next afternoon, when Preston heard about the Reverend entering a courting relationship with Lucile Greene, he at first felt insulted. Then defeated, but only momentarily.

The fact was, Lucile was from a city. She was healthy, charming, quick, and beautiful. Preston knew that she would be an ideal wife for him. They weren't just matched in wit and intelligence, but she had a strong body, which could finally give him a son. Preston had the notion of having someone to inherit his businesses and his name. He was in his thirties already, and Lord knew if some Western disease would come and kill him any season. Having a wife to give him children had slowly become a priority in Preston's mind. Lucile was his best, and perhaps his last, chance to have a family. And perhaps a Preston Lodge IV.

Lucile must have been a silly girl who was being swept up in the romantic idea of a Western romance. There was no way possible that Timthy Johnson could offer her the romance that he, a dashing, courtly man from the East, could provide her with. The fact that the modest, slow-going Reverend had actually beaten him to a proposal did momentarily put his ego in check.

But Preston Lodge III never gave up. He certainly wouldn't surrender so easily now.


	10. Doubt

There was so much to celebrate the following Sunday after church. Not only had Timothy entered a courtship with Lucile Greene, but Jake and Teresa Slicker announced that they were expecting a baby in the coming year. When Timothy had heard this news the previous Friday, he smiled tenderly. The thought of him having a baby with Lucy entered his mind, and it gave him a rush of positive energy and love for the world.

Of course The Slickers were in Denver on Sunday, as they always were, attending Mass at a Catholic church, so Timothy took it upon himself to offer up a prayer and a blessing for the happy pair.

"Dear Lord," Timothy led the congregation at the end of service that morning. "We thank you for your abundant blessings, especially for the Slicker family, who are expecting the birth of a child next year. Your surprises and gifts to us are plentiful, and we are grateful that you continue to find new ways to bring love and happiness to Colorado Springs. We also thank you for your mercy and your kindness, and also for your love and guidance. In Jesus' name, Amen."

Timothy looked up from his pulpit, and his eyes darted directly to Lucy, sitting in the first row of pews on the left side of the room. She wore a new dress that she had the town seamstress make for her (on credit...after all she was still trying to save money). The fabric was soft and baby blue, and stood in stark contrast to her hair, which was styled up and away from her round face for the first time. Grace had done it that morning for her. The hair and dress made her look more womanly, but Timothy still saw the true beauty in her wide eyes and radiant smile.

"Well, thank you all for coming," he said. "I want to invite you all to a dance the town is organizing next Saturday night. It will be one last outdoor event before the winter weather sets in. I hope to see all of you there."

The congregation began to disperse. Lucy caught Timothy before he could go out to the steps to greet the people.

"I need to speak with the Doctor a minute. But I'll come back and we can walk down by the brook again," she suggested.

"Are you feeling alright?" Timothy asked with concern. Lucy nodded.

"Just fine," she said happily. "I need some advice is all."

"I'll wait for you," Timothy said gently before going out to the stoop.

He heartily began shaking hands and greeting the congregation as they filed out into the open air. He saw Lucy catch Dr. Quinn's attention and strike up a discussion. Michaela nodded as a request Lucy seemed to make, and the pair began walking away toward the clinic.

"Good afternoon, Reverend," came a deep, smooth voice.

Timothy turned to greet Preston Lodge III. It took all of his energy to look Preston in the eye as he shook his hand.

"How are you today, Preston?" he asked sincerely.

"Oh, quite well, thank you," Preston replied. "But listen, I was wondering if you and I could have a chat briefly?"

"As soon as I finish greeting people, I'd be happy to oblige you, Preston," Timothy replied with gusto.

"Good," answered Preston, smiling with his usual gentlemanly arrogance.

* * *

"I must say, Dr. Quinn, for as progressive as New York may be, I'm not used to seeing a woman doctor," Lucy remarked as she and the beautiful woman named Michaela Quinn entered her clinic. The place was small and humble, but cozy and welcoming. It even smelled nice (and herbal), as opposed to the sharp, sterile smell she expected.

"I get that quite often, Ms. Greene," Dr. Quinn replied with a sincere smile. Lucy felt like she could warm up to this woman fairly quickly.

"Please call me Lucy or Lucile," she replied.

"Well, what may I do for you?" Dr. Quinn asked.

"Two things," Lucy began. "First, I'm experiencing my monthly cycle, and I've never felt cramping this badly before. Is there any pain relief you can recommend?"

Dr. Quinn smiled. "I experienced the same thing travelling from the East. It may have to do with an environmental change. Is the cramping just in your abdomen?"

Lucy shook her head. "It goes up my back and makes my breasts ache too."

"And have you ever given birth?" Dr. Quinn asked as she looked through her medicine cabinets.

"Oh no," Lucy said quickly. Dr. Quinn nodded and took out a small tin.

"This is a special herb that the local Cheyenne give me. I use it myself when I feel menstrual pains. If you drink it as a hot tea, it should relieve some of your symptoms," she described, holding the tin out for Lucy to sniff.

"It smells like flowers," Lucy said skeptically. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"Absolutely," Dr. Quinn said with a pleasant tone. "I can make you a cup now if you're in no hurry."

"I was actually going to meet the Reverend for a stroll," Lucy replied. "But you are a Doctor, so if you let me have some, I'll make a cup later."

"Very well," Dr. Quinn said, going with the tin and taking out a smaller tin and some measuring equiptment. "Now, was there something else you wanted to talk to me about? You said there were two items."

"Yes," Lucy sighed woefully. "I was wondering if you had any...diet suggestions."

"Diet?" Dr. Quinn asked, keeping her eyes on her measuring spoons as she poured some of the Indian herbs into the smaller tin. "You mean a weight loss diet?"

She looked up and gave Lucy a once-over before twisting her lip and knitting her eyebrow. "You really wish to lose weight?"

Lucy nodded. "Now that I may be in a romantic relationship," she said sheepishly. "I want to look a bit more...ladylike."

"Lucile, I understand if you want to be healthy, but for your bone structure, you look just fine," Dr. Quinn said, her tone deepening a little. "Have you been this way for most of your life, or were you smaller once?"

"I was always large, even at my poorest times," Lucy complained. "I grew a womanly shape before my thirteenth year, and I was always in the street with the other Brooklyn children, fighting and wrestling and running around. I even beat many of the boys! I've never been delicate like every woman is out here in Colorado."

"Lucile, it sounds like this is your natural shape. You're a little more shapely than the average woman is all, and believe me, that is not only very common in city children, but very healthy. There have been medical studies that even suggest women with more weight on their frames are less susceptible to diseases and may even live longer. And larger breasts and hips can also indicate an easier ability to conceive and the likelihood of successful pregnancies. There really isn't a need to be insecure about it."

"I was just thinking," Lucy said. "I was told that the Reverend liked his women petite and soft."

"Was it Louise Chambers who told you that?" Dr. Quinn said with a tone of skepticism rising.

"Yes."

"There is something you should know about their history, the Reverend and Miss Chambers," the Doctor began.

"Oh, I know they nearly married once," Lucy quickly interrupted.

"That's good that you're aware of that. But perhaps you aren't fully aware of the conditions under which they severed ties."

"What do you mean?"

"When the Reverend broke the engagement, it was because Louise wasn't conducting herself properly with the school's children. She used physical force on them and left injuries on a number of them, including one of my own children. The Reverend kept his love for children and his desire to have his own the priority over his romantic feelings. He seemed to move forward, but Louise was very sullen and broken-hearted when she left town. I should think," Dr. Quinn concluded. "She might still have feelings for him. Feelings that might have arisen again now that they've met again and he is pursuing another woman."

"I was aware of the abuse she had done. You think she might try and come between Timothy and I?" Lucy asked with fear.

Dr. Quinn shrugged. "It's a possibility," she admitted. "So when she suggested that the Reverend had...a physical type of woman he was exclusively attracted to...a type that doesn't describe you, she might have been trying to deter you."

Lucy sighed. "That makes a little more sense." She paused a moment. "She really was violent towards children? I still cannot fully believe it."

"Very violent," Dr. Quinn confirmed. "It's why she left her position as the teacher of the school. The Reverend loves children too much to agree to corporal punishment."

"I can imagine he wouldn't condone such behavior either," Lucy said. The conversation took her back to New York, where corporal punishment was as common as cabbages. "In Brooklyn, it happened every day, and there were so many runaways in the street because of it."

"He's wanted to be a father for so long to children of his own, and Louise didn't seem to be interested in that," Dr. Quinn said, finishing her story.

Lucy thought a moment on this as she thanked Dr. Quinn for the herbal tea and left the clinic with her to rejoin Timothy. If children were his first priority in life, what would that mean for her? Lucy wasn't set on children for a while yet, and though she wanted a family, she wanted to make it to California first, or at least see a little more of the world. Having babies would tie her to one town for the rest of her life. Was she ready for that, and for the sacrifices she would have to make if she became a clergyman's wife?

* * *

"I must confess to you, Reverend, that I'm a little heart sore upon hearing the news of you and Ms. Greene," Preston said in his usual smooth-talker's tone.

"Heart sore?" asked Timothy. He tried not to let this deter him from the good day he was having. After all, with the attention he was paying to Lucy, this conversation was basically inevitable.

"I know you noticed the courtly attention I was giving to her, and there was a reason for that," Preston continued. "I happen to find her beautiful and smart, as well as fascinating."

"I feel the same way, and I thought it would be indicated as such in the new relationship I am pursuing with her," Timothy answered, calming and without a hint of vindictiveness.

"I didn't doubt that, Reverend," Preston said, itching a spot on the tip of his nose. "However, I don't think it was very gentlemanly of you to set a proposal on her until you consorted with me, her other suitor."

"I don't think she considered you a suitor," Timothy retorted with confidence. "Also, you should know that the decision was left up to her, and she agreed to the courtship quite enthusiastically."

"As she would, I would imagine," Preston said, lowering the tone of his voice suspiciously. "You know how city girls are."

"Excuse me?" Timothy asked. "I'm not sure what you mean by that."

"Maybe you don't know, then," Preston backtracked. "How much of her past as Lucy explained to you?"

"That she was orphaned young and left her brother's house to become a maid until she made her way out here," Timothy explained simply. Preston sighed and nodded.

"She didn't tell you about the other men in her life?"

Timothy felt something pound against his throat when Preston made mention of that. "Other men? She's a single woman, Preston, and I will take her word over yours."

"She told me so herself that first Friday night we went to supper," he described. "Women in the East...well, they tend to mature faster than out here. They also respond to this by going with young bachelors a lot younger as well. I would know."

"I still don't quite understand," Timothy said softly.

"Lucile told me about the men in New York she's kissed, and how far she let them go on her," Preston suggested.

Timothy shook his head. "You're stepping out of line here. Lucy is honorable and intelligent. And I don't think she would tell something like that to a strange man in a strange town, nor do I think a woman as bright as she is would allow herself to be used in such a way," He knew this had to be some attempt at retaliation for him beating Preston to the punch. Preston was jealous.

"Ask her yourself," Preston said, shrugging. "I don't mind a woman with a history, but a Reverend might want to reserve himself for a little lady a mite purer, if you understand me."


	11. Prying

"If you don't mind my prying...what was it like to be blind?"

Timothy chuckled. "Well-"

"-because if you don't want to tell me anything-"

"-I want to tell you everything."

Timothy smiled and looked up into the pure-blue sky. He let Lucy decide what to do on their first date. She asked him to pack a picnic and to take her to the place in Colorado where one could see the most sky. The picnic basket laid unopened by the blanket, as Lucy had immediately decided that lunch could wait, and that cloud-gazing was a more important task that needed her immediate attention. Timothy indulged her, and laid down on his back beside her.

"Being blind didn't come suddenly," Timothy began his tale. "I had a disease of the eye that Dr. Mike diagnosed for me."

"Then it's odd that you got it back from a fall, yes?" Lucy asked.

"That's right," Timothy answered, sighing contentedly. "But even as my sight gradually went away, I was very afraid. Afraid that God had abandoned me. Afraid that I would have to leave my church and my town. Afraid I'd be reduced to a body in a hospital for however long my life may be. Then, the world went completely black. I felt detached from everything around me. It was almost like walking in an uncomfortable dream. I felt vulnerable and infantile. I needed to learn how to walk with a cane, and even how to eat properly again."

"And you were even more afraid then?" Lucy pried.

"No. With the darkness came sorrow more than anything. I was never going to see a glorious sunset, or the smile of a child, or the intent gazes of my congregation as I preached to them. A part of me wanted to...give up entirely."

"Did you want to forfeit your life?" Lucy asked fearfully.

"It crossed my mind," Timothy confirmed. "But I am ashamed to say so now. I know life is God's most precious gift, and nothing truly justifies the taking of it."

Timothy felt something gently graze his hand. It was Lucy's warm, gentle hand. She was weaving her fingers in between his. Timothy felt a romantic shiver run up his spine.

"I got used to being blind over time, and life went on," he recalled. "I accepted my new lot, and was even able to keep preaching of course. After a while, I even stopped begging God to restore my sight. After I stopped asking for it...he brought you, and you gave it back to me."

Lucy giggled at the flattery, but just for a moment. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard you say, you know."

"What is?"

"That I'm an angel!" Lucy declared. "I would have thought that growing up in a place called 'Hell's Kitchen' would have been a clue for you."

Timothy laughed. "Why was it called that?"

"I'm not entirely sure. It's Irish, like me," Lucy said softly. "Maybe because it was such a close, tight, overpopulated neighborhood that it was always hot and damp?"

Timothy stayed silent a moment, not knowing what to say. "Now," he finally added. "It's my time to pry."

"Then by all means, pry," Lucy whispered.

"What was it like living in New York City?" he inquired.

"Not easy," Lucy muttered. "My mother was an Irish immigrant, and my father was the son of Irish immigrants. We all lived together in a tenement that was always overrun with awful smells, the screeching of babies, and was always falling apart in some way or another. Father worked in a factory and I think mother patched clothes for a few cents a day. I remember my brother dropping out of school to work in the factory with father very early too. But mother wanted me to finish school."

Timothy listened with sympathy and interest as Lucy recounted her full story. Diseases were always rampant in the winters,and Lucy had barely turned eleven when her parents died of influenza during an outbreak.

"They died within days of each other, and I remember it well," Lucy recalled sadly. "Father went first, on a Monday. Mother never knew because she was delirious with fever. She died that Thursday, before sunrise. That afternoon, I was taken away from my apartment by my school mistress, who kept me sheltered away from all of the illness in the classroom along with a few others until my brother came for me."

"Influenza is very contagious," Timothy suggested. "It was a miracle you weren't taken too, especially as a child."

"Yes," Lucy said quietly. "The air was always think and dank. People lived so closely together that sometimes even hiccups were contagious. Homeless people would sleep in our hallway sometimes and bring in fleas. Even my family's apartment was only two rooms with a stove in the corner and a piss-bucket in the other corner."

Lucy could feel Timothy wince as she cussed.

"Heavens, I'm so sorry! Just recalling my childhood brings out some of the worst in me. As a young girl, I was taught to swear before I could read," she explained. "It was just what people in the slums did. It made us sound tough, so I suppose it was about defending ourselves. I also wrestled with my schoolmates to build up my strength, you know. Sometimes other children would wager a penny or two on who would draw blood from their opponent first."

"Gracious Lord," Timothy mumbled. "You have had it rough."

"Why do you think I wanted to go to California?" Lucy replied. "I heard stories from people passing through the boardinghouse where I worked as a maid later on. San Francisco was roomy and clean, they said. You could breathe without smelling the factories and the dust kicked up. People were kindly and willing to offer real work to anyone with a smile. I heard it all. And the boardinghouse was nicer than my old tenement home, but it was hard work with long, demanding hours, and the proprietor was terribly angry and sometimes drunk."

"It sounds like a terrible place," Timothy mused. Lucy sat up straight and quick.

"Oh no! I make it sound awful..." Lucy paused, as if she were experiencing a happier memory this time. "..but some things, even small things, about New York make it one of the best places on Earth."

Timothy followed suit and raised himself to a sitting position. He shifted himself so that he could face Lucy. His breath stilled at the sight of her hair (loose again) flying off of her shoulder in the breeze. The glint of sunlight running though her tresses gave the illusion that her hair was on fire. It was beautiful, just like the rest of her.

Meanwhile, Lucy continued her tale. "I had many friends as a child. We would play stick ball in the street. Girls could play as well as boys at stick ball. Then there was the smell of roasted corn from Peter, who sold it for a nickel on the corner by the tenement during the autumn. Some days, if business was slow for him, he would give us some free corn if we correctly answered a history question from school. The taste of roasted corn is one of my absolute favorites, even though it would get caught in between my teeth and stay there for days."

Timothy chuckled. Now, it was as if Lucy was singing New York's praises like it was El Dorado.

"My girl friends and I would spend our summer breaks from lessons climbing all over the fire escapes and sitting in a group on one of the landings highest off the ground, where the boys couldn't call us names. We would read books out loud...dime novels our families forbade us from reading, and tell stories about the boys we were sweet on. We'd pass around an apple and each take a few bites, or on special occasions, share a handful of penny candies. Days that passed like that were some of the few times I felt like not even the rich girls on the East Side had it better than this."

Suddenly an image entered Timothy's mind...a bad image. An image of Lucy walking down a city street next to one of those 'boys she was sweet on.' Did Preston have a point? Were things in New York more...liberal...than in Colorado?

"Did you ever go with any of those boys?" he asked unassumingly. Lucy looked at him with a knitted eyebrow.

"Why would you ask that?" she said, cocking her head. "What do you mean, go with? As in, kiss?"

Timothy shrugged and immediately regretted his question. Perhaps he was investing too much into Preston's suggestion.

"One time I was tricked into kissing Sean O'Malley on Christmas Eve," Lucy admitted. "He had his toadie hang a mistletoe on a fishing pole above our heads at school. I kissed him, but I didn't like him all that much. Besides, I was ten years old. I only kissed one other before you."

Timothy didn't say anything, but his face indicated that he wanted Lucy to go on. Lucy began to feel uncomfortable, but obliged him anyway.

"It was years later when I was working for the boardinghouse in Brooklyn. A young traveling dentist named Joshua Rainier was staying for a few weeks. He and I talked a little, and I may have been sweet on him myself. We did kiss on the front stoop of the house the day before he departed for Maine. He said I could elope with him if I wanted to get away from the city. Obviously, I declined the offer. I was still only nineteen. I wasn't ready to be married." Lucy smiled meekly. "I'm glad now more than ever that I refused to run away with him."

Timothy nodded, as if her answer was acceptable to him.

"Why does it matter who I kissed once?" Lucy asked. "You've been engaged before."

Timothy took her hands into his and leaned in. "It's not really traditional for a Reverend to court a woman who isn't exactly morally...well...morally..."

Lucy's cheeks went red. "Morally?"

"Morally straight."

"What does that mean?" Lucy said, her voice betraying her quick change in attitude.

"You know," The Reverend began sweating, again regretting his comment.

"No, I don't." Lucy let go of Timothy's hands and became rigid as she pulled away from him.

"A woman who has a history of being with men," Timothy finally answered. "In an...intimate...way."

Lucy's jaw dropped. "You know...first of all, I am a virgin. I would never compromise myself like that. Secondly...Preston pried into me with the exact same concerns that one night he took me to supper. It's what made me wary of him in the beginning. He was rude and presumptuous, like you're being now."

Timothy felt the color leave his face. He'd done something terribly wrong, and he knew it.

"Lucile, I am so-"

"-I can't talk to you right now," she mumbled. "I'm too insulted."

She got to her feet and slipped her boots back on before turning her back to Timothy and heading back towards town. Timothy shot up to follow her.

"Lucy! Please forgive me. I should never have brought that up," he said in a raised voice. Lucy stopped in her tracks.

"I hope you don't expect me to be pure as the driven snow, Timothy," she said. "Because we come from two very different lives, and I'm not a shrinking violet like the women around here may be. I look after my own honor, but I also refused to be a sheltered shrub until a man comes a-calling! If you can't accept me for who I am now regardless of my past in the city, then this may not lead where we want it to after all."

"Lucy-"

"-I'm too embarrassed to finish our lunch. We can talk this over tomorrow, but please let me be."

Timothy stopped. He realized in that moment that perhaps it would be better for now if he did so. Sadly, he watched as Lucy began walking towards town, alone and upset at him.

_Maybe there is a reason I've been without a wife all my life..._


	12. The Long Night

The moon seemed further away than usual, and it made the night more ominous (and more deadly), than Timothy ever remembered it was alone on the bridge outside of the church, looking at his reflection in the stream below. It was odd he could see his reflection as clear as day when the darkness surrounded him more completely.

Timothy was lost in thought. About the apology he owed to his sweetheart and how he would carry it out. About how wrong he was and whether or not his sin against Lucy would lose him her heart forever.

For once, he knew God would not have the answers he required.

_Timothy..._

The wind whispered in her voice.

_Timothy..._

He looked and and could see the flash of red moving gracefully in the night. Timothy felt his chest tighten in anxiety, but nonetheless he began to follow. Even through his heavy black boots made imprints on the silent night with each step, Lucy didn't seem to notice his approach.

"Lucy, you really should not be out here alone this late...especially without an escort," he began to scold gently.

"Oh, but I'm not alone," Lucy sighed contentedly as she turned towards the Reverend. What he saw next was enough to stop his heart.

Lucy was with child. Very much with child. Her pregnancy protruded far out from behind her shawl, and her normally-large breasts were easily twice their typical size. Her left hand cradled her belly gingerly...protectively...defensively.

Timothy gasped. "Lucy-"

"-Reverend Johnson!" boomed Preston's unmistakable voice from behind Lucy. As he came into view, he slipped an arm around Lucy's shoulder. "I believe you have just had the honor of meeting my wife!"

"Don't you touch her!" Timothy hissed. "She isn't your wife!"

Preston and Lucy broke out into laughter together. Timothy took a step back in surprise.

"What, do you really think I am yours?" Lucy giggled, her hand passing over her belly in circles.

"Next, he will think the child is his baby!" Preston added, which only made Lucy laugh louder, as if the funniest joke in the world was being told.

"This is impossible. Lucy, I love you. We're courting!" Timothy pleaded, stretching out to take Lucy's hand. Instead of taking it, Lucy instead sank back towards Preston, whose grip on her tightened instinctively.

"Make him go away!" Lucy cried. Preston's smiling face quickly grew to one of intense seriousness.

"SHERIFF! SHERIFF!" He hollered.

In seconds, six men dressed in black and holding torched from atop their massive steeds surrounded the trio. Timothy didn't know what to make of this.

"This man who calls himself A Man of God is trying to kidnap my wife! Take him in!" Preston demanded. Lucy began to cry, burying herself into his shoulder. Preston's hand moved assertively to her chin, where he lifted her face to his and kissed her.

Timothy's blood boiled. He began to fight back at the sheriff brigade began wrestling him to the ground. He was quickly overtaken.

"I insist you do away with him! He is obviously a threat to the innocent women of this town! He is a wolf in sheep's clothing!" Preston monologued.

Timothy heard Matthew Cooper's authoritative voice reply.

"We know what to do with him, don't you worry."

Timothy couldn't even protest. What was happening? He was cuffed with his wrists behind his back, then Matthew Cooper tugged him harshly to his feet by the back of his collar.

"Come on, Johnson. We're going. You are despicable, going after pregnant women, you sick, sick man," he said.

Timothy looked back amid the struggle as he was carted away. Preston and Lucy were watching his arrest with strange, gleeful looks on their faces.

Sheriff Cooper led Timothy through town, which was suddenly crowded. Everyone hissed and spat at him as he saw where he was being led...

...a gallows in the middle of town.

_"Hang the rapist!" _

_"Hang the kidnapper!" _

_"Hang the false Reverend!" _

These cried accosted Timothy's ears as he was led through the middle of the angered crowd.

Rapist? Kidnapper? False? Timothy was none of these things!

"No, please! Let me say something!" he protested, fighting for his life as he approached the gallows.

"You have nothing more to say," spat Matthew. "Go on, dog." He shoved Timothy onto the first wooden step leading up to where a faceless deputy was looping a noose on a platform. Timothy nearly tripped from the force of it.

Tears began to roll down his desperate face, and he had to be forced to climb every stare. Matthew finally gave up and dragged him the final few feet, and positioned him above the trap door before swiftly tying his feet together.

"I've been framed! I don't even know what's happening! Lucy! My love! Lucy! I love you! Help me! Lord in Heaven, Help Me!"

_"Coward!"_

_"How DARE you call on God?!"_

_"That woman ain't yours!"_

As Matthew placed the noose around Timothy's long neck, he could see Preston and Lucy standing on the porch outside Loren's store in each other's arms, watching placidly as Timothy awaited execution. Lucy blew him a taunting kiss goodbye as Matthew Cooper tightened the knot of the rope right below Timothy's left ear.

"Get it over with," Matthew muttered to the faceless deputy. What, they wouldn't even give him the dignity of putting a mask over his face?

As Matthew descended the gallows steps, Timothy could barely see from behind the hot, fearful tears pouring down his face. No final words...no mask...no prayer...and Lucy was taking pleasure in watching him suffer and die.

"See you in hell..." mumbled the deputy. Timothy turned his face. Suddenly, the deputy turned into Louise Chambers, her blonde hair obscured by a large black veil draped over her face. She grinned evilly. Before Timothy could even make a remark, she pulled the level releasing the trapdoor.

The last thing Timothy saw before the noose went tight around his neck was Preston and Lucy watching from the porch. He was hoding her in a deep, victorious kiss, his free hand caressing her pregnancy with possessive authority.

He felt something explode in the back of his head and a sensation of swinging...

* * *

"TIMOTHY!"

He shot up, safe, sound, and free, though drenched in sweat and breathless, in his bed. Lucy was sitting beside him, wiping his forehead with a cloth and holding his hand with her free one. She looked down at him with extreme worry. She had her hair back in a loose braid, and wore a light, flimsy nightgown and a flannel robe over top.

"I heard you moaning through your open window," she said softly. "Your door was locked, but I knew I had to get in somehow."

Timothy, however, still hadn't come back to full consciousness. He sat up, and his hand shot to Lucy's stomach. While her abdomen was not flat, it was also obvious there was no baby growing in there.

"No...no baby inside you..." he mumbled breathlessly. Lucy leaned back and gently removed his exploring hands, shaking her head.

"Not possible...unless I'm giving birth to a Christ child," she replied. "You've had a nightmare."

Timothy heard her soothing, angelic voice, and he finally began to re-establish his position.

"I'm...not being hanged..."

Lucy smiled re-reassuringly. "No."

"And..." he trembled. "You aren't married to Preston..."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Never."

"And...you aren't having Preston's baby."

"It sounds like you had a nightmare for both of us," Lucy sighed. She put the damp cloth in her hand on the night stand. "I was coming over because I couldn't sleep. I was thinking too much about you. I came here to apologize to you for over-reacting. I should have considered your position and-"

"-I'm so sorry Lucy," Timothy sighed in relief. "I should have never brought any of those things up, or suggested any of those things about you or your past. I love you Lucy. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone aside from God."

"Oh Timothy!" Lucy sighed.

"And now more than ever I think you're God's own angel...you saved me from another world of darkness tonight! Lucy, my love..."

"Timothy, I love you too-"

Lucy was barely able to finish her proclamation before Timothy laid his hand upon her cheek and drew her into a deep kiss.

A jolt of pleasure shot through Lucy, and she wrapped her arms around Timothy's neck. Their lips became wet with each other's saliva. Timothy was pleasantly startled with Lucy began to nibble on his lower lip and take it into her mouth. Then he felt an overwhelming urge to bring her whole tongue into his mouth. With a little creative kissing, he was able to do just that.

Timothy sank back onto the bed with Lucy in his arms. He gently placed her beside him without their lips parting.

Lucy trembled as Timothy began running his nimble fingers down the side of her neck and onto her collarbone. Her nightgown was already flimsy and low-necked (it was discarded and old-fashioned). Timothy's own high-necked night shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, but still exposed less than hers.

Nothing made sense anymore in the best way possible as they moved around on Timothy's trundle. Lucy felt like she belonged there..both in his arms and in his bed. He held her like he was almost afraid of her letting go and leaving him. Her trust in him became absolute...even when she realized his mind was gone elsewhere. She knew this was happening when she felt Timothy's finger brush over her nipples, which were growing hard through the light material of her night gown. Whether that first touch was by accident or no...it quickly led to a more firm, intentional touch.

But Lucy let him caress her breast. It felt like nothing she'd ever experienced,and she never wanted it to end. She felt other parts of her body tremble in reaction to his sighs as he enjoyed feeling her. Timothy reflexively moved on top of her, and she, in turn, began to position herself beneath him.

Suddenly, as she squirmed under Timothy, her knee brushed against something hard that was under Timothy's night shirt, and this was enough to snap her out of her lusty haze. Startled, she gasped and reflexively crossed her arms and legs. She looks up at Timothy in surprise and fear. Timothy, in turn, stopped short long enough for his brain to catch up with his body.

"I...I should go. You seem alright now," Lucy stammered, sitting up and darting out from underneath the Reverend. She grabbed her robe and re-wrapped it around her exposed body...tightly. Timothy was left on his knees on his mattress. Lucy now could plainly see what her knee had brushed against...and seeing the outline of Timothy's member under his night shirt made her blush a deep crimson. And she'd_ touched_ it.

Timothy realized he was all but exposed, and he responded by grabbing his flannel blanket and covering the lower half of his body with it.

"This...isn't appropriate..." Lucy whispered, still stunned. Timothy immediately nodded in agreement.

"Yes," he gasped, catching his breath. "I'm sorry for touching you...your..."

Lucy shook her head. "I understand. I...I liked how it felt."

Those words didn't exactly help Timothy bring his indiscreet sex organ under control. "Well, we can't do it again," Timothy said firmly. "It's improper for us to do that until we...we're...we get...ma-"

He couldn't finish the sentence. His brain knew the word, but his lips refused to speak it.

Lucy nodded and silently headed for the door. Timothy got up after her, wrapping the blanket around his whole body like a cape, to escort her out.

"So...I hope you sleep better now," Lucy muttered as she fumbled with the door knob. "Good b-"

A rumble of strong thunder rolled across the sky as she got control of the door and opened it. "Oh no!" She moaned. Timothy came up beside her as a sheet of heavy rain crossed into town.

"This is a difficult situation," he said. Lucy shook her head.

"I can make it," she insisted. "Go to sleep."

"No," Timothy insisted. "You can't run across town in your night dress during a thunderstorm. You'll catch diphtheria, and I won't have that." His mind raced back to the epidemic that took the lives of many citizens of Colorado Springs a few years ago, including Dr. Quinn's sister.

"But where can I sleep?" Lucy said. "I can't...not with you. Especially not after..."

Timothy nodded. "I will sleep beside you on the floor. You have the bed."

"Are you sure? I can't let you sleep on the floor in your own home," she said softly.

Timothy smiled. "I'd sleep in the middle of a mud puddle if you asked for it."

Lucy looked out into the rain one more time. "Well, I don't seem to have a choice."

After exchanging one more brief round of kisses (this time, the kisses were entirely chaste and honorable), Timothy put Lucy on his trundle and laid a spare blanket over her body, gently tucking her in. Lucy sighed in relief and muttered a sweet, quiet 'goodnight.' As she slipped into unconsciousness, Timothy brushed her hair out of her face to gently lay his lips on her forehead, between her eyes.

Then he took a spare pillow and his flannel blanket and made a cozy little nook for himself on the floor at her feet. The rest of the night went by peacefully, the rumbles of thunder and the ticking of the rain on the roof the only noises to be heard. Timothy found himself dreaming of Lucy wearing white and running with him in a bright green field.


	13. You Belong to the City

Lucy got up early enough the next morning that she was able to slip past the slumbering Reverend and make her way back to her room before the town could get up to see the redheaded waitress leaving the town parson's house in her night clothes. She did manage to make the bed before she left, as a common courtesy.

That whole day, Lucy didn't even see Timothy walk buy, but she figured that was because even the life of a small-town holy man was busy. From what she gathered, Lucy understood that Timothy had duties to travel out to the homes of ill congregation members, to look into the physical upkeep of the church building, and to even travel out to the Indian reservations on occasion. Lucy herself was busy at Grace's cafe for most of the morning and afternoon anyway.

She did wonder, however, what Timothy would have to say after their rather heated night together. In the end, it was only some touching, but the carnal thrills that went along with it, at least for Lucy, weren't exactly virtuous. Granted, things for women were a bit more sexually liberal in the slums of New York, but even then, the worst Lucy had heard about were the teenage orphan girls who'd go uptown at night and sleep with the local politicians while their wives were blissfully ignorant. Those girls always seemed to have more money to spend than the less frivolous children. One of Lucy's peers had once suggested she was attractive enough to 'go uptown,' but Lucy refused to even consider it.

As it turned out, Timothy wasn't shy around her after the fact, like she'd expected. In fact, it almost seemed to have the opposite effect. That night of affection had opened a previously-unopened door, and the result was that Timothy seemed to be freer and more open-minded. He also became more of a charismatic suitor. He began surprising Lucy with little gifts and tokens, and whisking her off on romantic rides in his carriage during the times of day when the sky was four or five different colors, none of them blue. More than a few times, Lucy would be cleaning dishes only to turn around and find Timothy standing behind her, holding a single rose or a small box of sweets.

Though they didn't try getting heated in the same way as they had before, and thus walking a fine line between respect and dishonorable, they did allow themselves some physical intimacy. Lucy particularly enjoyed one Saturday evening when Timothy took her for a horseback riding lesson. Lucy could barely get control of her mare, and she ended up being tossed from the horse onto a pile of leaves in the middle of the woods. Timothy, of course, leaped off of his horse and ran to her side, asking if she was hurt.

Lucy wasn't hurt, but having Timothy hovering over her, as close as he was, drove her to yank his body down to hers via a strong tug on his white collar. They kissed on the soft ground in each other's embrace for a long time, nearly an hour, and didn't even notice their horses running off on their own.

* * *

At one point, during a midday lull in the dining crowd about a week after that passionate night in Timothy's home, Grace and Lucy began talking about Lucy's life in New York.

"You make it sound like folks out there are a lot more tolerant of different creeds and colors," Grace said in a low voice, though not for lack of amazement.

Lucy shrugged. "Yes and no," she said.

"What do you mean by that?" Grace asked, carelessly stirring a pot of chicken dumpling soup with a metal ladle.

Lucy thought a moment. "Well, New York City has so many different immigrants coming through from many different countries, I guess race-mixing is just something that comes naturally. Even in the Irish sections of Brooklyn we'd have some Jewish families, and Italians and Poles. But a lot of gangs formed from different neighborhoods, and there would be a lot of drunken brawls between some of the different groups. I even saw a duel fought with pistols once."

"Good Lord!" Grace gasped.

"No one died," Lucy assured her. "But an Italian got shot in the knee. He never came around again."

"I would imagine not," Grace tsked. "Why can't we all just get along?"

Lucy shrugged. "Politics."

Grace smiled tenderly at the girl. "Speaking of getting along...I hear you're beginning to really get along with the Reverend. How is that going?"

Lucy blushed, after which Grace put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, I didn't mean to be intrusive if that's going too far!"

Lucy smiled and shook her head. "I think I have some...strong feelings for him."

"Do you think there will be some wedding bells ringing soon?" Grace grinned.

Lucy was about to answer in the affirmative when a voice called out behind her.

"Miss Greene?"

She turned to see with was Louise Chambers, dressed in grey, her perfect curly blonde hair tucked neatly under a bonnet. It made Lucy realize her ribbon had fallen out of her hair at some point during the busy afternoon, so her unruly red tresses were flying about freely, making her look like a ragamuffin. Lucy suddenly felt very insecure.

"Are you here for lunch?" Grace asked, her usually warm, melodic voice going cold.

Louise shook her head. "No, I was actually looking for Miss Greene to discuss our business proposition."

Business proposition?

"Oh!" Lucy suddenly recalled. "The offer!"

"I need to know soon," Louise insisted. "My train will be here in five days,you know."

Suddenly, something Lucy hadn't thought of before entered her head: a dilemma.

On one hand, Lucy had a developing romance with the best man she'd known so far in her life. And despite getting off to a rocky start, things were growing in feeling, passion, but also in stability and seriousness. Lucy felt like she'd known the Reverend for the majority of her life, and the idea of leaving him felt like a punch to the heart.

On the other side, California still waited for her. And what lied beyond the coast? Where else could Lucy travel to? How many cultures could she experience? If she chose to follow the sun, the Reverend could not follow. He was anchored to Colorado Springs and his flock. The people needed him here. They loved him here. She could never ask him to come along. It was selfish.

Then again, Lucy's doubts about her ability to maintain a household, raise children, and be a polite, submissive, parson's wife nudged her thinking. For as much as she loved Timothy, what were his real expectations of her if they were to marry? Lucy had said before on several occasions that she wanted a partnership that entailed equal responsibility in the household chores and child-rearing. Timothy, in his life, probably didn't expect the same lifestyle.

"I...I don't know," Lucy muttered. Louise's shoulders dropped.

"Miss Greene," she said with concern. "It's been nearly a month, in case you haven't noticed. When I met you, I said my train would be here withing three weeks. I scheduled a later train to give you more time, especially after I'd heard about your...tryst...with Tim-Reverend Johnson."

"Tryst?" Lucy asked, offended. "He and I are courting." Lucy puffed out her chest and sat up straight, like a bird showing off its' plume in order to appear dominant.

"So I hear," Louise mumbled. "Nonetheless, if you're going to refuse me, please let me know now."

"Now?" Lucy sighed. "You're catching me off guard, I'll admit."

"Listen, dear," Louise said, leaning in as if she was about to expose some secret. "You have been getting to know him...but do you know what he wants? Really wants?"

Lucy bit her lip.

"A docile young housewife. A woman to conceive, carry, and bear his children, and to follow them around, cleaning up after them until they fly the nest." Louise said all of this as if it wasn't a big surprise. "And while we haven't gotten to know one another as well as we should have," she continued after a moment's pause, "I know more about you than you think. You aren't meant to stay around here forever."

Lucy looked off to the side, lost for a moment in thought.

"You belong to the city," Louise described. "Born in New York, meant to see the world. Don't deny that you've felt some wanderlust."

"Yes, I have," Lucy conceded.

"How could you thrive here?" Louise mused. "You need tall buildings, exciting sounds, the smells of foreign foods flooding your nose. The world is a lot larger than Colorado Springs...and you can't take Timothy with you."

Lucy recollected the city in her mind. Her home, her life. Colorado Springs was an odd place. The emptiness, the dusty roads, the eternal quiet that sometimes made her ears ring...compared to the closeness, the civilization, the culture mixes, and the potential for every new day to bring adventure or disaster. Maybe she did belong to the city. Maybe she was meant to follow the rails.

But what was all of that without Timothy?

"I...I have to decide now?" Lucy sighed. Louise gently bit her lip, as if she had to think very hard.

"I'll give you until Friday, the day before I leave," Louise agreed. "Settle your...affairs. Then, when you meet me at the station, I will have your train ticket."

Lucy nodded silently. Louise smiled and patted Lucy's knee condescendingly.

"Don't decide your life based on a man. I nearly made that mistake once. Don't make a choice that will force you to look behind you."

Lucy shot up and walked away from the cafe, deciding to go back to Timothy ask consult him. But on her way, she happened to bump into Preston, holding a group of documents. Of all the people for her to see next...

"Lucile," Preston said, grinning his dirt-eating grin as if there was no awkwardness between them. Lucy pouted.

"I have to see Timothy," she said defiantly. Preston nodded.

"Of course," he said softly, moving aside for her. Lucy began to move on when she heard him call out from behind her.

"I know you have a choice...a difficult one," he said. Lucy stopped in her track. Preston paused a moment as she turned to face him.

"If you had picked me, you wouldn't have that choice. I can take you wherever on Earth you wish to go...and not just California. I could show you Paris. London. China."

"Oh, how? You have a business here," Lucy said angrily. Preston moved in close...too close.

"But I can transfer my business to any bank in the world," he said. "I would take you to the moon if that were possible." His whisper was soft, almost sincere. "And," he continued. "It isn't too late, Lucile. I still feel passionately for you. And I have more to give you than a simple man of the cloth," he reasoned. Suddenly, Preston began to move in dangerously close...and he boldly wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned down to her ear. "Think of the mountains of Switzerland we could climb together. Think of the-"

"-enough!" Lucy yelled, a sudden rage flying through her blood.

Instinctively, she let her hand fly across Preston's cheek, causing his head to flip to the size. He raised his hand in surprise to his quickly-reddening cheek. His jaw hung open. A few gasps of surprise from the direction of Grace's cafe rang out.

"I said no before, and I mean it! Leave me alone!" Lucy hissed.

"How dare you?" Preston muttered, still too shocked to be angry. "Raising your hand to a man who is trying to confess his feelings for-"

"-I'll whip you again, only my hand will be closed this time, if you don't back down," Lucy said, standing defensively. Preston glared at her, physically and emotionally hurt. More than anything, however, his pride was hurt. "I. Said. No."

"Lucile-"

"-you want to test me?" Lucy barked. "You, more than anyone, should know that you don't mess with an Irish girl from Brooklyn!"

Preston didn't speak again. Lucy took three steps backward before turning on her heel and jogging in the direction of the church.


	14. White Dress, Blue Dress

Timothy was sitting in the first row of pews in the sanctuary, writing notes for a his next sermon. He always found that sitting where his people would be while he spoke inspired him to produce the right words and messages. Of course, it didn't matter when he couldn't see, so he quickly learned to visualize the church in his mind's eye instead. His sermons never faltered in their quality.

Lucy sat in the front row every Sunday now, and Timothy always felt a wave of love come over him when he looked at her sitting there, actually attentive. He admitted, when he first heard her lack of understanding, he felt inclined to believe her to be a heathen. A Godless nomad. Even now, she didn't seem to waiver in her doubts. But she came. She came for him every week. Church was the only time she'd put up her hair in the fashion of the ladies of the West, when she clearly liked it better flowing freely behind her. And he always felt that mattered just as much as a baptism or conversion.

For a minute or two, Timothy let his daydreams take over. Standing in front of the pulpit instead of behind it...perhaps Reverend Thomas in his place instead. Dressed in his best, with a new bow tie instead of a collar fit snugly around his neck, and his usually-bearded face clean shaven for the event. Lucy walking up between the rows in a white lace gown, veil covering her hair, roses in her hand. How beautiful she would be! The people of the town would stare at her in awe as Timothy reached out to take her hand and give her his vows in return, as well as his soul. Sealing their pledges of eternal love and fidelity with a gentle kiss as the townsfolk clapped in congratulations.

And then that night, in total privacy, finally allowing themselves to indulge in God's gift to married couples...finally being able to satisfy the carnal feelings dwelling in his belly that he'd been forced to suppress in the name of honor his entire life...Lucy surrendering herself to him with that beautiful, fleshy body he'd almost had once already...towering over her body, her aching moans indicating she was ready for him...his hips between her legs...

But when the church door opened, and a suddenly whisk of cold wind blew Timothy back to reality, Lucy looked less like a bride and more like a rugged she-wolf, ready to either strike at him or fall off a cliff. Her clear distress was enough to prevent a full erection from blossoming, for which Timothy was both very grateful and a little startled.

"Lucy? What's the matter?" He asked softly as Lucy ran up the aisle at him with speed and deliberation. He couldn't even brace himself for when she practically leaped into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing.

"Preston...Louise..." she cried heavily. Timothy's chest tightened. He too Lucy's chin in his hand and brought her eyes to meet his.

"What did they do to you?" he asked with stern authority. "I don't care if I'm a Reverend, I will make them know they can't touch you...especially him..."

"No, don't," Lucy said quickly. "Preston tried seducing me, but I hit him."

For a second, an amused smile shot across his face, and he felt a brief glow of warmth before Lucy began crying again.

"I will never let him near you again," he assured her protectively. Lucy shook her head and stepped a half-pace back. She took his hands in hers.

"We need to talk about something...I don't know what to say...but I want to hear what you will."

At first, Timothy thought Lucy was changing her mind and leaving him for the shady banker, but that wasn't the case. Lucy told him all about her wanderlust, and how this opportunity being Louise's travelling companion was probably her one opportunity to finally get to California for a long time, if ever. After all, she had been thrown off of a train and essentially stranded here. She described how she was beginning to miss the allure of the city, and how in spite of all of the good people of Colorado Springs, the western town was so wide, so empty, and so conservative that it was beginning to feel like a cage.

"But...I don't want to leave the best thing I've ever had happen to me," Lucy added. "How can I? Colorado Springs gave me the one thing that has made me feel important...more than just a maid or a street urchin...you, Timothy. You make me feel, well, adored."

"And so you are," Timothy said softly, sitting down with her on the pew behind them.

"But I'm not going to be a good wife," Lucy added. Timothy shook his head.

"Don't say that," he countered. "You're kind, sweet, fun, intelligent, a hard-worker-"

"-I'm also impatient, impetuous, and unrefined," she added.

Timothy sighed a moment. "And after all, who said you would be my wife?" He added without thought.

Lucy sat back, the look on her face changed. "What? You're saying you don't want to-?"

"Oh no! No!" Timothy quickly apologized. "It's just not been a very long time for us. We aren't getting married tomorrow, or even engaged. Let's be a little reasonable. There's time."

"But there isn't!" Lucy said quickly. "I have until Friday night to decide the rest of my life! Between you and my dream since childhood! Timothy, if I leave, I won't be coming back! Now do you understand?"

Now her cards were on the table, and she was left completely up to what Timothy said next. He knew he had to take time before he answered.

What was he, a simple man, to stand in the way of a woman's dreams, especially the dreams of such a remarkable woman who'd turned his world around in a month? But Timothy's own dreams had to be taken into account as well...his dreams of domesticity and bliss...a gaggle of children at his feet...and later, an even larger gaggle of grandchildren. He wanted to die with a loving woman at his bedside, holding him gently in her arms as he slipped away to Heaven. And then, later still, he wanted to walk through the Kingdom of God with her, sharing in Paradise with his soul mate.

Lucy, he knew in his heart, was that woman.

But keeping her trapped like a wild hawk in a cage was selfish and cruel to her, and Timothy would rather drop dead this moment than to deny her anything she wanted.

"Go, then," he said, his voice trembling.

"W...what?" Lucy asked, as if she'd missed his decision.

"Go, let your life be a dream," he said. "No one deserves it more than you."

Lucy hadn't expected this answer. She expected at least a fight from him. But he seemed so...willing and resigned...to just let her leave.

"You...you don't care?" she asked ambiguously.

"Your happiness is all I want," Timothy answered. Lucy felt her lower lip tremble with heartbreak.

"But...what about us? Our future? Do we...do we have one?" she asked. Timothy shook his head.

"I suppose we don't, after all."

That was it. The decision. The conclusion.

"So...you aren't even going to fight for me," Lucy replied, standing up defiantly. "All of this was just play?"

"I'm making it easy for you," Timothy said, his demeanor growing colder and colder by the second. Lucy stood a moment without breath.

"You...you really are just letting me go, then?"

"I said yes. Go. Live your life. See the world." Timothy was officially emotionless as he got to his feet. "Would you like me to escort you back to the hotel?"

"No!"

Lucy stomped her foot. "You know something? I thought you were The One. My Destiny. You had me believing in a higher power watching over us and bringing us together. You made me think I belonged with you and that you loved me. But now you're suddenly discarding me like a pile of leftover turkey bones. You can't possibly have meant everything you've said and done for me if you can let me go like this...you cold, cold son of a...son of a..."

Lucy couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. Instead, she whirled around and fled the church without another moment to spare.

She didn't see Timothy collapse to his knees and begin weeping like a child, desperate and hurt.

* * *

Lucy, back out on the street, spent a moment washing her face and drying her eyes, cooling them with a washing rag to help the redness fade. She couldn't let Louise, who was so refined and womanly, see her crying like a baby.

Not that it mattered. She couldn't find Louise anywhere for the rest of the day. Instead, she arranged to have a simple note sent to her room at the hotel:

_Louise, _

_I'm going with you._

_Signed, Lucile_

Then, she felt she needed to go outside again, where no one could see her. She chose to visit the brook one last time. The brook where it all began with Timothy.

The day was nearly over by then. Sunset painted the sky in a vivid red-orange that gave way to yellow to the West, and purple to the East. Lucy lied down in the grass, but only for a moment before shoot up again. The grass was cold and wet. When she'd been there before, it was soft and full.

Even the flora were growing cold towards her.

Instead, she sat on rock, watching the water in the brook float by. She didn't think at all. Her mind remained floating in limbo. She didn't even think about Timothy in the depth of her depression.

_Why should I be so depressed?_ She asked herself._ I've only known him a little over a month. And I just guaranteed myself a trip to California and out of this empty little village. Louise was right. I belong to the city. _

_So...why do I feel like drowning in this very brook at the same time?_

After the sky grew black, Lucy finally gathered up the energy to go back to her room. Perhaps then she could cry herself to sleep.

As she walked down the dirt road, she noticed people staring at her with concern and curiosity. She felt a bubble of isolation encircle her and place her in an alternate place from those around her. The mayor's pregnant wife (showing already, but she was petite so it wasn't surprising) looked at her with pity, which made her sick to her stomach. _Have they heard already? This town is even smaller than I thought. _

A brown package waited by her door when she returned. Lucy took the box into her room and shut the door. The card on top of the box was blank, but upon opening the box,on top of a few folds of paper, was a small handwritten note on plain parchment:

_I am thrilled at this news. Please arrive promptly at seven-thirty Saturday morning, wearing this and with your hair neat and worn up. A new dress for a new journey. _

_-Louise_

A bundle of beautiful blue linen fell out of the box after Lucy lifted the paper. The dress was like nothing she'd ever owned before (and certainly a far deal better than the two dresses she did wear). Lace collars and sleeves, the powder-blue color...the trim...the cut...all of it was nothing like she'd seen other than on a mannequin in the window of a dressmaker's shop back in New York. How did Louise afford it? How did she even guess Lucy's size?

As it turned out, Louise had been a bit off on size after all. While Lucy felt flattered Louise saw her as a trifle thinner than she was, the dress bodice was too tight across her chest, and her breasts were close to ripping the seams. Even though her shawl clashed with the material, she had no other choice than to wear it over the top. Fortunately, the skirts started higher on the waistline, so there was ample room for her hips. However, the skirts were too short, and Lucy's ankles would have been exposed were her black boots not as high as they were.

Lucy studied herself in the room's mirror. The dress was beautiful in spite of its size issues. She looked modest. She looked clean. She looked very...Western.

And Lucy hated it.

She feel asleep in a heap of blue fabric on the floor after collapsing where she stood, too upset to stand.


	15. Building the Dream

Saturday morning was damp and foggy. One couldn't make out the opposite side of the street through the fog. It felt thick and gross on Lucy's face as she stepped outside onto the hotel porch for the last time. Her carpetbag (falling apart, of course) held her two well-worn dresses and everything else she owned. As ordered to, she wore the ill-fitting dress. At the last minute, she refused to put her hair back in one of those severe buns. They gave her headaches, and to compensate, she made sure the plait she wove her tresses into were practically perfect. Not a hair out of place.

Lucy had not gone out into the open air since she'd confirmed with Louise that all was lost with Timothy, and that her best option was to take up Ms. Chambers' offer to be her travelling companion. The entire week was spent in her room,getting out every cry she could, taking only tea and a sandwich a few times a day, and trying to figure out what had been going on since she met the Reverend. She'd never found her answer.

Maybe I will just look upon all of this as a romantic dream that will haunt me for the rest of my life, she finally concluded. I fell asleep on the train and woke up in San Francisco. I was never thrown off. Colorado Springs doesn't even exist. There was no Reverend Johnson who played with my heart and threw it on the fire.

That mantra was what she repeated to herself every morning and every night that week. It had yet to become her reality, but that had to have been due to the fact that she hadn't left yet. Once she was California-bound with Louise, perhaps the dream would become vague and reality would mold itself to what she willed it.

As she slowly made her way to the station, Lucy stopped by Dr. Quinn's clinic. She'd written a goodbye letter to the woman, in spite of the fact that she'd only had a few private conversations with her. But, like the note she'd left Grace acknowledging her resignation from the cafe, Lucy felt compelled to say something to recognize the kindness Dr. Quinn had shown her.

_Dr. Quinn,_

_By the time you read this, surely I will be on my way to the coast. But I felt compelled to leave you with some gratitude for the kindness you showed me in my brief stay in this little town._

_The fact remains, and I'm sure you felt it once, I am a city girl. You were too, once. But you found true love and family out here in the mountains, and therefore have a reason to stay. I thought I did too, but I had it confirmed for me that the Reverend was only acting with me, and so I'm leaving this morning before the town awakens. I don't imagine I will ever be back._

_Timothy has already said his goodbyes to me back on Monday, when he told me he didn't need me in his life, and that I had to move away from here. Perhaps he finally saw how different we were, and I've felt from the beginning that a progressive girl like me has no business falling in step behind a preacher man for the rest of his life. I had hoped I was wrong._

_Once I'm gone, please tell him that while my heart remains broken, I still love him. I would have been proud to be his wife, and I would have done all I could do to bring him happiness and companionship. When we were near one another, I felt a force between us that would draw me closer to him, and I'd felt that since meeting him. And I would have given up every dream of my own so we could build new dreams together. I guess he simply didn't see things that way._

_When we first met, Dr. Quinn, he'd fallen in the dirt and hit his head. Later, I learned that he'd been blind, and that I was the first face he'd seen upon regaining his sight. He thinks that means I was an angel sent by God to be with him. I wish I could have fulfilled his expectations. Alas, I fell quite short of that._

_Please extend to him my apology for not being his angel. And let him know that I will wish for his happiness with someone else in the future._

_I still believe in him, and that he deserves it._

_Thank you again,_

_Lucy Greene_

Figuring that Dr. Quinn would be home and asleep at this unfortunate hour, Lucy slipped the note under the door and went along her way to the station without looking back.

She didn't notice that someone, indeed, retrieved the note from under the doorway.

* * *

"Reverend! REVEREND!"

Timothy couldn't imagine what the trouble would be, especially at this early hour. It sounded like Dr. Mike at the door, and she sounded like she needed him quickly. Perhaps someone was dying and asking for him...

"I'll be right there!" he yelled at the door, quickly pulling on black trousers, a white shirt, and black vest. He grabbed his Bible off of the night stand by his bed and in a flash, was opening the door. Dr. Mike was, indeed, standing there, her hair tussled about. She looked like she hadn't slept well that night. She held a piece of paper on her hand and was out of breath.

"Dr. Mike...what is it? Who is it?" Timothy asked with concern.

"It's Lucy," Dr. Mike said, handing the paper over to him.

Timothy's heart stopped. It was Saturday. Louise was leaving for the coast this morning, and taking Lucy with her. She hadn't been around at all during the week, and Timothy knew why. It was his fault. All his fault. He'd chosen to let her chase her own horizons. After all, he was the dead weight on her shoulders. He was the anchor holding her back. Lucy was too young and spry to be tied down and taken from her aspirations.

Timothy read the letter and felt every emotion he could feel at once.

**_"I still love him...I felt a force between us that would draw me closer to him, and I'd felt that since meeting him. And I would have given up every dream of my own so we could build new dreams together...I still believe in him..."_**

His hands trembled violently. He looked at Dr. Mike with a helpless, infantile face, pleading for help.

"I think she's for you," Michaela said bluntly. "Don't let her go!"

"I...I can't do it," he mumbled, letting the letter fall out of his hands and hit the ground.

Dr. Mike scowled. "What on Earth do you mean?"

"She's got too much to see in this world. I can't keep her here. It's like a cage!"

"Who said that? Lucy?" Dr. Mike shot back without missing a beat. Timothy shook his head.

"She's from a big city. She wants to see the world."

Dr. Mike shook her head. "I was from Boston, and Colorado Springs isn't a cage to me. I've never felt more free living here! And anyway, who says you're going to keep her here?"

"I belong here. My people are here," Timothy answered.

Michaela shrugged and nodded. "That is true, but they need me too, and I've been able to leave...just as long as I come back. And we all know very well that you will always come back."

Timothy sighed and looked at the ground.

"...but unless you get to the station, she won't be back. And then what happens, Reverend?"

Timothy looked at Dr. Mike. "I'm terrified."

"That's very normal. But you need to tell her the truth. She wants to be at your side, Reverend. But you need to be at hers too," Dr. Mike said, a smile growing on her face. "And maybe you both can chase your dreams holding each other's hand...no matter where you are."

"No matter where-?" Timothy stopped in the middle of his sentence. "Dr. Mike, I can't-"

"-we know you'll return to us," Michaela countered. "But you need her now. Go. And hurry...her train is going to arrive any moment."

Timothy whipped his head around and looked at the small clock on his mantle. 6:45. Fifteen minutes until the train's scheduled departure.

He turned back to Michaela and smiled. "I love her."

"Oh for goodness sake," Dr. Mike replied, rolling her eyes and raising her voice. "Why are you telling this to me?!"

"Oh...right."

Feeling like a fool, Timothy glanced past Dr. Mike and ran into the foggy air full-speed. In the distance, he heard the high-pitched whistle of a train pulling in across town...

* * *

"Lucile, I will only allow this once because we're only travelling out. But once we reach San Francisco, I would really like it if you put your hair up every time we appear in public," Louise scolded.

"It hurts my head," Lucy muttered. Louise stuck her nose in the air.

"Little girls wear their hair down, we're women," Louise replied. "Pain is a part of our lives, and it always has been."

Lucy nodded submissively. She really didn't like this lady very much. She had more pretense in her frigid soul than even Preston Lodge III. At least Preston acknowledged his slimy side. Louise polished herself up enough to disguise it under a layer of rouge. In a way, that made it even more obvious.

"I really prefer to wear my hair down," Lucy asserted through gritted teeth.

"I do hope you won'[t be so flip with me in California," Louise replied. "And remember, your only livelihood out there will be myself until you find work of your own, so please be careful of your tone with me."

Lucy sighed and chose not to add anymore. After all, this was the woman who thought nothing of battering children about. She would have no qualms whipping a full-grown lady in her service.

Even if said fully-grown lady could break her in two without the effort needed to slice bread.

Lucy let Louise step up onto the train first. When it came to be her turn to board, she stopped on the steps and took one last look at Colorado Springs and sighed.

It was just a dream...

"Lucile," Louise snipped. "Come along."

As she mounted the last step, Lucy could hear quick, irregular boot steps on the ground getting closer.

"Wait! Stop! Hold on!"

Louise rolled her eyes. "Oh good Lord, now what does he want?"

Lucy felt her heart thump in her chest. Then came a gentle tug on her skirt hem. She looked down at the platform, and sure enough, there he was.

Timothy was completely out of breath. He'd bolted through the entire town to reach her. He looked up into her eyes, his own pleading with her in silence. Lucy could feel her cheeks go hot. Tears already began flooding her eyes.

"Timothy, honestly," Louise scoffed. "What is the meaning of-"

"-Lucy," Timothy interrupted. "I was wrong. I can't just let you leave. I know it's selfish of me. I know it's absurd, but I can't let you go. You're my angel and I know it. I know it and I love you entirely too much to let you go out to California on your own."

"She is NOT on her own!" Louise barked.

"And even right now, I wouldn't have had time to tell you before you left...had it not been for someone being unable to sleep last night and was thus up early enough to come and help me realize it myself."

"The train is leaving! It's too late," Louise said sharply.

Timothy ignored her again. "Over the past month, I've dealt with people who don't want us happy together, I've dealt with my own desires. I've dealt with God and my faith. And everything keeps leading me back to you. That says it all to me."

"S...says what?" Lucy finally spoke, her voice soft and uneven.

"God did send you to me," Timothy said. "And I don't think it's fair that He did all of this work to ensure our meeting...if I just give it up because I don't know what to do."

"A...and...what will you do?" Lucy asked.

Timothy reached out for Lucy's hand, but the train jerked, and began to move slowly. Timothy missed and began to walk briskly alongside the train, chasing it.

"Lucy...I want to marry you...will you have me?" he asked in between breaths as he struggled to keep up with the train. It was beginning to speed up.

Lucy leaned over the railing and managed to keep her grip on the train as she caught Timothy's outstretched hand.

"RUN FASTER!" she said loudly.

Timothy mustered every ounce of his strength to make a jump onto the car's lower step. Lucy's hand kept him balanced enough to that when he landed, he stayed put. He rushed up the rest of the steps until he was safely on the train.

"Oh, I don't believe this," Louise muttered, going inside, defeated.

Timothy and Lucy took a moment to catch their breaths. Then, Timothy used the railing for balance as he got down into his knees, her hand still tucked into his.

"Would you be my wife?" he asked softly. "Please marry me...you would make me feel like a king."

Lucy let the tears fall. How could this be happening?

"But you can't be here...you belong in Colorado..."

"And I belong to you," he said. "I will be back here soon. But I can't let you fly away," he whispered. "I've had so much happen to me in my life, good, bad, and ugly. But none of it matters if I can't see the sunrise with you."

Lucy pulled him off of his knees and fell into his arms. _Please, God, let this not be a dream after all..._

"Oh Timothy...how can we make it work?" she trembled.

"We just will."

"But California?"

"I'm not jumping off of this train, Lucy. It's...moving too quickly."

Lucy looked over his shoulder, noticing that Colorado Springs was fading backwards into the misty morning behind them as they pulled away. She looked back and didn't waste a moment before leaning in a a long, deep kiss. Timothy put his shaking hand on her cheek, and it felt cool against her hot cheek, even as her tears ran over his knuckles as they fell. Never had she felt like she belonged anywhere more than where she was right now.

"Well, lucky for you, Reverend," Lucy said, smiling. "I'm well-practiced in the art of sneaking aboard trains. I can show you all of the best hiding places..."


	16. A Brief Epilogue

_October 31, 1877_

_Dr. Mike, _

_Please tell the people of Colorado Springs that their Reverend and his new wife will return by the end of November, and that until then, worship the Lord on Sundays through fellowship with your neighbors and doing good works. _

_When we arrived in San Francisco, the first thing we did was find a parson to marry us, and a government clerk to witness. Lucy barely had time to tie a white ribbon in her hair, and the only ring I had to give her was my mother's old wedding band, which I've kept on a chain around my neck for years. In spite of this, everything felt right, and the love between us felt complete at last. Lucy was (and is) absolutely radiant. Even though we've eloped, Lucy and I agreed to hold a party to celebrate our union in the spring, when conditions are appropriate for an outdoor dance. _

_Lucy and I are spending the month traveling up and down the California coast for a honeymoon. As of right now, I'm writing from a small boardinghouse near San Jose, where we will arrive tomorrow and spend the day by the sea shore. Lucy has seen the Atlantic Ocean before, but she is especially thrilled to see a sunset over the water. I'm just happy to be her husband and to make her dream of seeing California come true before we return home to build a life together. _

_Michaela, I'm writing to you personally instead of sending a telegram to the entire town because I feel I owe you a millions thanks. Not only for caring for my physical body, but for being a true friend, patient, and, of course, for convincing me to follow Lucy. I would have never seen her again, and I would never have married my true love. In the three days I've been married, my cheeks are bruised for the continued smiling and laughter I share with her. Lucy says that she sees me grinning in my sleep. There is surely a peace that comes with being married. A peace I haven't felt since before I went blind. _

_No matter what she says, I know in my soul that God sent Lucy to me. Whether she is a mortal or an angel, I cannot be sure. But she is here with me now and forever. And that's all that matters. _

_Yours with Respect, _

_Rev. Timothy Johnson_

* * *

_** Christmas Eve, 1878**_

A storm was ripping through Colorado Springs that night, and yet Timothy was outside on the porch of Dr. Quinn's clinic, huddled in a woolen overcoat, his hat pulled as low over his face and ears as possible. The wind was violent, and the rain was sharp and cold. Sadly, it was not snow. Timothy could hardly see the large Christmas tree across the road, barely standing up to the tempest.

The storm wasn't on his mind, nor was his suffering at the hands of the elements. There was more to worry about tonight.

For nearly eighteen hours, he'd been on the porch, refusing to leave. The townsfolk had stopped by for news in intervals, or to give him a bite to eat as he waited. Right now, Robert E and Sully were sitting with him keeping vigil outside the clinic.

Another sharp, piercing scream rang out from the clinic. Timothy's heart stopped when he heard it, and for the fiftieth time he tried to go around to the window and peer inside. Every time he remembered that Lucy and Dr. Quinn would be upstairs in one of the bedrooms, it was too late.

"Calm yourself, Reverend. Sounds like it won't be much longer now," Robert E said, chuckling. "You're just like I was when Solomon was born."

"As I recall," Timothy said, coming back to the bench and sitting down again, "Grace didn't yell quite so loudly."

"Michaela did," Sully recalled. "I'd never heard a woman shriek quite like that before."

Timothy couldn't stand the thought of his Lucy in pain. He wanted nothing more in that moment to be at her bedside with each pain, holding her in his arms and whispering sweet, gentle encouragement into her ear.

"OH GOD!" echoed amongst the screams as they came faster and faster, with increasing intensity. Timothy darted to the door, as if it wold speed things along.

"I can't wait anymore, Lord forgive me," he mumbled, opening the door and heading inside. Robert E and Sully followed. Robert E managed to stand in the doorway leading to the stairs before Timothy could get to them himself.

"You can't go up there until Dr. Mike says it's safe."

"Yes, that's right," Sully added. "You could bring in some of the bad air from the storm that could make Lucy or the baby sick."

Timothy nodded. "I keep forgetting myself, and I'm sorry."

Robert E smiled. "I think we both know how you're feeling right now. You've been waiting for this glorious moment your whole life. And on Christmas Eve, no less."

Timothy smiled at the funny timing. The night of the Christ Child's birth happened to be the same night his own firstborn was going to arrive.

"Just promise us you won't call it Jesus if it's a boy," Sully said with a wise smirk. Timothy's gentle smile grew into a toothy grin at the joke.

"Oh no, Lucy and I decided on either Adam for a boy or Alice for a girl," he informed them.

Another scream, this one louder and longer than the others. Timothy gripped the door frame leading to the stairwell and bowed his head in prayer.

_Precious Lord, keep my wife and baby safe. Make her pains brief and make the delivery smooth and without complications...and thank you for your blessings on this night-"_

The screaming stopped abruptly, and a new sound...a baby's piercing cry...replaced it. Again, Timothy's heart stopped as he looked up hopefully. Tears came quickly to his eyes. Robert E congratulated him with a pat on the back.

A moment of silent thanks to God, Dorothy came down to meet Timothy in the stairwell. She looked only a little surprised to see him there instead of outside. She was sweaty and as red as her hair, but she was glowing as well.

"Dr. Mike says you can go up now," she said, smiling.

"And Lucy?"

"Mother and child are both fine," Dorothy confirmed. "Congratulations, Reverend!"

Timothy let out another victorious laugh of pure joy, similar to the laugh he'd had when Lucy had first consented to court him. He rushed up the stairs quickly as possible, scrambling like a little boy expecting a surprise. It's wasn't too becoming to a man nearly forty.

He found the only open room and rushed inside.

Dr. Quinn was cleaning up several bloodied cloths and surgery tools at the other end of the room. Lucy, her hair frizzy and tossed carelessly about her shoulders, was crying happily, cradling a large, wet infant in a yellow blanket. The baby squirmed and howled in her arms, confused at the new world around it.

Timothy took off his hat and dropped it at his side. He threw himself on his knees at her bedside.

"Congratulations, Reverend!" Dr. Quinn chimed gleefully. "Everything went smoothly and I don't see any indications of complication."

"Timothy, it's a girl...Alice...Alice Esther," Lucy said gently, showing the baby to him.

"Oh, Alice!" he said with admiration. "Praise God, I am a father... and she's beautiful."

"Would you like to hold her?" Lucy asked. "I...I need a moment."

"You're feeling okay?" Timothy asked with concern. Lucy nodded.

"Yes, yes...just tired," she admitted.

"Lucile, you'll probably feel a few more contractions coming soon with the afterbirth, but they will be relatively mild. Then you can nurse her for the first time," Dr. Quinn informed the new mother.

Lucy handed the baby off to her father, who stood with the child and gently rocked. Almost immediately, the baby seemed to calm down in his arms.

"Her hair is red," he noted. Lucy rolled her eyes.

"Sorry about that. I'll try to make sure any future babies have brown hair," she said with a grin. Timothy sat down on the bed and used his free hand to caress Lucy's warm, red cheek. The cool hand of her husband felt good against her skin.

"She is perfect the way she is," he answered. He leaned over and gently laid his soft lips on her hot forehead. "And you're amazing."

'I need to rest," Lucy said, exhausted and breathless. "Labor is a lot more horrid than I thought."

Baby Alice began to struggle and cry again. Timothy responded by rocking gently.

"We should sing a lullaby," Lucy suggested. "I must know a hundred of them."

Timothy smiled. "Perhaps tonight we should sing something more appropriate."

He began to hum 'Silent Night.' Lucy sighed with satisfaction and leaned her head on his shoulder, running a finger over the baby's sensitive cheek. Together, Timothy and Lucy welcomed their baby girl into the world with one of the most special lullabys of all time.

_ Silent night, Holy night...all is calm, all is bright..._

**_THE _**

**_END_**


End file.

Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, Romance, Western