"Listen here little Maebelle and you remember what I tell you. Words are men's greatest weapon. If you let what somebody says cut into you, it can tear you wide open. You gonna have to be strong and always hold your head high." Miss Lady held out her hand, palm up. It was empty. "Take this from my hand." Mae's small fingers curled over it, picking up the imaginary item. "Now push it into your chest." Mae pretended to push it into her body and giggled at Miss Lady's pleased expression. "That's a good girl, now you got strength inside you. As long as you do, cain't nobody hurt you." Miss Lady pressed her hand over Mae's on her small chest. "Do you understand?" Mae nodded not quite understanding. "Now repeat after me. I am a strong, valuable lady. Repeat it." Mae began repeating the words. "I am a strong, valuable lady. I am a strong, valuable lady."

Mae clung to the words Miss Lady ensured she repeated many times over the years. Then John rounded the wagon and forced Jefferson from the back.

"I can't believe you're leaving me here and taking a two-bit whore's side." Jefferson's arms waved wildly and his eyes bulged in his mottled swollen face.

They'd made it to the outskirts of a particularly small town, and John stopped the wagon. It was close enough that Jefferson could walk, yet far enough it would take him some time to arrive.

The men stood a few feet away from the wagon facing off. John towered over the shorter male. He stood taut, his features tight with anger.

Although the younger male's words were nothing new, Mae forced her attention away from the duo to the tiny town. In the distance, Mae made out only a couple of people exiting what looked to be a small general store. Other than another man walking into what looked to be a shop of some sort, no other people were present.

With a hand over her brow to shade her eyes, she turned to see Jefferson direct an angry glare at her. "She ain't worth it Captain McClain. You'll find out soon enough. I 'spose you already got plans, as it's a long lonely road to Texas..." The young man's words stopped when John grabbed him up by his collar and pulled him face-to-face with him.

Mae strained to hear John's reply to Jefferson's exclamation. Whatever John replied in a low growl to the now struggling man was too soft for Mae to make out the words. Not that it mattered. The only reason she remained on the wagon rather than Jefferson was because John gave his word to Miss Lady, and if nothing else, he was a man of his word, otherwise she'd bet a large amount it would be her standing on the side of the road. She doubted he felt badly for what happened to her. He'd actually thought she'd willingly lay with Jefferson.

When Mae looked over her shoulder one last time, she saw John push a sputtering Jefferson away and walk toward the wagon. A passive expression did not hide the clench of his jaw and brightness of his eyes. When he climbed up to sit beside her, she kept her back straight and eyes ahead as the seat shifted under John's weight.

From under her lashes, she spied John's grim expression, his face sharp angles from the tight lips and drawn brow. He snapped the reins, and the horses moved the wagon forward at quickened pace into the town. Just a few minutes later, he pulled to a stop in front of the general store. Without looking at her, he jumped down and tethered the horses. "Would you like to come inside with me?"

Mae shook her head. She preferred not to face people with her bruised face and cut lip. Once left alone, she leaned out to look back, nervous that Jefferson would come up from behind her. It was obvious the man had a mean streak, probably kept a grudge too. With his pack over one shoulder, the young male headed toward town. Fortunately he was still far enough she couldn't make out his features. Relieved he seemed to be taking his time, she peered through one of the shop's windows. John stood at the counter, hat in one hand and a parcel in the other. When he turned to head out, Mae resumed her perusal of the road ahead.

The wagon shifted when John climbed into the wagon just a few moments later. He replaced his hat on his head and held out the small parcel to her. "It's some hard candy. For you." Mae's mouth watered, yet she took her time opening the parcel, careful not to tear the paper too much and then offered it to him. Once he popped the candy into his mouth, John grabbed the reins. "The shopkeeper told me there's a boarding house a few hours ride from here. We should reach it by nightfall. I know you'd appreciate spending the night on a real bed for a change. Is it to your liking?"

"Yes, it would be wonderful." Mae almost cried at the combination of the sweet candy in her mouth and the thought of a warm bath followed by a soft bed.

The reins tight, he snapped the horses to get moving. "Well, seems we got us a place to head to then." The crinkle of her closing the paper over the candy caught his eye. "May I have another one please?" She shared his peace offering, and he took one more. "Thank you."

They rode in silence for a several hours before John brought the wagon to a stop. He climbed down and checked her horse's hooves. "This one seems to be limping." He patted Mae's horse on the rump. I don't notice anything amiss, although it's better to be safe. I'm going to unhitch them and take a better look. You may want to take advantage, we won't stop again."

Mae scrambled down and made her way to some trees for privacy. Once in the shade of the trees, she leaned against a tree and closed her eyes. Who was John McClain? Why did he treat her with disdain one moment and buy her candy the next? Guilt. He felt guilty for what Jefferson had done. It was the only answer she could think of.

After relieving herself, Mae made her way back toward the wagon. The horses were once again ready to go, and John stood at her side waiting to assist her. Their eyes met. His dark gray eyes seemed to bore into hers, and for a brief moment everything stood still. Mae took a shaky breath at the warm sensation when his hand touched her elbow to push her up into her seat. Road weariness was the only explanation she could find for her reaction. John McClain would never consider her more than a burden.

To him, she was nothing more than a common whore.

Soon they were on the road again, the horses trotting along perfectly. Her back stiff, Mae stretched and moaned. It was too soon into the journey to be so sore. They were not even half way. How would she survive until Texas?

Twilight's long shadows began to fall over the wagon, Mae shivered in the cool evening air. "How long before we arrive?" Hours earlier, she'd given up pretending to be strong, too exhausted to care and had slumped over, her head on John's shoulder. "Maybe we should just stop and make camp. I am so tired."

John's shoulder moved up and down when he shrugged. "I promised you a bed Mae, and you should have one tonight. We've got another hour or so before night falls. Let's give it a bit."

How could he remain so strong? Probably due to his years in the Calvary, riding for days on end, with little in the way of accommodations or regular meals even. Truth be told, she'd not slept a wink after Jefferson's attack. Afraid he'd return, she'd kept an eye on the back of the wagon. If only she could relax more, understand John.

Seeming to read her mind, he began to talk. "On one of my assignments, two men and I spent so many days out in the wilderness chasing after a deserter we became delusional. We were so hungry. The sounds of our stomachs growling became so loud, I was sure if we neared the man he'd hear us coming." He chuckled and Mae got the feeling he could see the scene he spoke of. "We spotted some wild fowl and had a feast that night. For some reason, the next day Corporal Harrison began to cluck like a chicken in the direction of another soldier. The man, a sergeant, lost his temper and dove from his horse to grab at him. Well, I don't know how they managed it, but both got all tangled up and ended up hanging upside down from Harrison's horse."

Mae giggled in spite of the tiredness, thinking of the poor men hanging upside down on a horse. "What happened to them? Did they get hurt?"

"Not really, except Harrison did get a black eye. I guess his face rammed into the horse's leg. I suppose the horse was too startled to move, and it gave several of us time to help them get off the horse." He shook his head at the memory. "When I asked Harrison why he was clucking, he said it was a joke. He'd overheard the sergeant tell another soldier he had a hard time plucking fowls’ feathers and then eating them."

It was the most he'd spoken to her, the deep timber of his voice soothing her. She opened her mouth to ask him another question in an effort to keep the conversation going, but he spoke again.

"There it is," John told her pointing. "Looks like the place the shopkeeper told me about."

Suddenly aware that she still laid her head on his shoulder, she straightened and her gaze scanned the building. It was a modest two-story house, a bit smaller than hers. Smoke from the chimney promised a warm interior. Light streamed from the windows. When they neared, the front door opened, and a large barrel-chested man came out to greet them. His eyes lit on Mae's bruised face for only a beat before he rounded to John's side of the wagon. An easy smile curved his lips. "The wife saw y'all comin' and sent me out to greet ya." With a hearty laugh, he shook his head. "Mighty bossy for a such a tiny woman. I'm Clark Clearwater. The wife's name is Beth Ann." The men shook hands, and John looked to her and her eyes widened.

Without speaking, both realized they would not be able to stay the night. An unmarried couple would not be welcomed into this or any respectable home. It took several gulps for the lump of sadness to finally get past her throat.

John turned back to the man. "John and Maebelle McClain. The missus and I are hopeful you have a spare room for us. She's had a hard time of it. We were accosted a ways back."

The man's scrutiny made Mae shift. "Well goodness sakes, I'm glad you weren't hurt too bad."

"I ran him off," John told the man, and Mr. Clearwater's eyes lit on the bruising on John's jaw and then the cuts on his knuckles. "It would be nice to get some safe shelter for a night."

"Of course, of course," Mr. Clearwater helped John with the bags while Mae made her way to the front door. A short woman greeted her at the front door. Her graying hair pulled back into a tight bun brought attention to her round face softened by a spray of freckles across her nose. "Well come on in. I know you must be exhausted."

"Dead on my feet," Mae admitted. "Although I could collapse easily, I desperately need a bath before I could lay in a clean bed."

The bed loomed larger than life, and the more time passed the more it took her attention. Mae sat in the steamy tub and stared at the sizeable four-poster bed. Earlier, she and John stood next to each other awkwardly while Mrs. Clearwater showed them the room. The woman did not seem to notice anything amiss and had briskly called for the bath water to be brought by a young man who looked to be their teenage son. After the lad finally left, John excused himself to give her privacy. So intent on getting into the warm water she didn't even consider the ramifications of their lie. Not until now.

Well there was nothing to be done about it now. Surely the man didn't mean to sleep in the bed with her. She'd offer him the bed, especially after noticing his limp after the brawl with Jefferson. He needed to rest, ensure his leg did not get infected or cause him to fall ill again. She'd sleep on the floor. A couple of blankets and one of the pillows on the rug would still be more comfortable than the back of the wagon. She rose from the bath to change and descend to join John for dinner. Before leaving the room, she pulled her hair down along the sides of her face before pulling it back. The style hid the bruising on her jawline. Not much could be done about the other wounds, although her lip was barely swollen now, and beneath her eye, the slash of purple had decreased.

When Mae descended the stairs, there were several other guests along with John already gathered around a square wooden table. Conversation stopped, and everyone turned to look at her. With a forced smile, she moved forward, keeping her eyes on John. With a grim expression in place, he stood and pulled a chair for her. Once she sat, he lowered into the chair next to hers and introduced her once again as his wife.

After dinner, John paced outside the house, ignoring the pulses of protest from his leg. Did the woman even understand what she did to him? To other men in any room she entered? Dinner had been the longest of his life, the unfortunate closeness of their bodies made it hard for their legs not to occasionally touch. And the way she looked. John almost grabbed her to drag her back upstairs. She was not dressed immodest, but even if clad in a flour sack, the woman commanded the attention of every male in a room.

The other four guests were men, and it became very hard to keep from demanding they stop staring at her. Mae, either used to it or oblivious, had been the picture of grace, taking time to speak to each of them until they were practically eating out of her hand. John clenched his jaw. Of course she did. It was what she did for a living.

Currently she was preparing for bed while he gave her a few minutes of solitude. Too tired to remain upright, she'd surprised him when her head leaned onto his shoulder. He hated to admit how good the closeness felt, how strong it made him feel. Without realizing it, he'd slowed the horses, stretching the time until they arrived. He had to get all the confusing emotions under control before they got on the road again and spending unending hours alone. One of the guests stepped outside and nodded at him before moving away to light a cigarette. John wasn't in the mood to start a conversation so he went back inside.

John made his way up the stairs, each step matching the deep breaths he took. What now? He was overthinking things as usual. Surely they could maintain their distance in the large bedroom. They were adults, and he was responsible for keeping her safe.

A charge.

No, it was his duty.

The intimacy of the interior did little to settle his mind. A lamp cast a soft light in the room. Mae was bent at the waist placing a blanket on the rug. Dressed in a floor length, long sleeved nightgown, she swung to face him, her eyes wide. "Oh goodness, you startled me John. I didn't hear footsteps."

He eyed the blankets she was arranging on the floor. "What are you doing? I will take care of it. Lie down and get some rest."

She straightened. "John, I think it's best if I sleep on the floor." He started to argue, but she moved closer and he could only swallow. The light from the lamp caused for her entire body to be silhouetted. Long legs and the soft curves of her outlined for him to see. "…you've been limping. It's more pronounced today, and after sleeping on the hard ground for days, it makes more sense." He finally listened to her words and realized Mae was unaware of how sheer her gown was. Or was she?

Forcing his eyes away from her, he grunted and went to pour a glass of water. "Damn woman do you have to make every thing so difficult?" Her irritated sniff brought his gaze back to her.

With her nose in the air, she threw the blanket at him and moved to the bed. "You know what John. Sleep in the barn for all I care. I'm trying to be nice, making sure you're leg…is…oh never mind." The last word came out more of a growl.

"Mae? I, er…you were...are nice."

"Forget it John. Do what you want, I'm going to sleep. I'm too tired to deal with you right now." When she noticed he'd neared, she dropped her arms to her sides and didn't move away. Her bright emerald eyes met his. "Let's just admit how bad of an idea this entire trip is. We can inquire at the next town about a stagecoach…I can…"

His mouth crushed hers, surprising him far more than her. She didn't move away when he placed his hands on both side of her face holding her in place, not wanting her to. She tasted like everything he ever imagined since meeting her, sweet and fiery. Her hands covered his, and Mae returned his kiss. It took all he had within him to keep from moaning.

Past the point of rational thought, he pressed his tongue to her lips and her mouth opened, inviting him in. Minutes passed, lacing one to another with only the sound of their breathing and suckling. The silken tresses fell down her back, and John smoothed them back from her face. When his hand slid to the small of her back, she pulled away and stepped back. Her wide eyes locked to his face, she moved further away and rounded the bed. Without a word, she pulled the remaining blanket away and lay down with her back to him and pulled the blankets up over her shoulders.

"I'm sorry Mae, I didn't mean to…"

"No explanation necessary. Of course you didn't John. Why in the world would you?"

Not sure what could be said to make things better, he began to arrange the blankets on the floor. He removed his clothes and lay down.

In the darkness, John listened to Mae's breathing until he was sure she slept, then got up and went to blow out the lamp. He glanced at her and couldn't help but wonder what would happen to her. In sleep, her beauty could only be described as pure. Innocent, the furthest word one would normally use when referring to Mae. Desirable, intriguing and ultimately dangerous, those were a much better fit.

He focused on her pursed lips and without thought touched his own. The light reflected a shiny tear sliding down from the corner of her eye. She cried in her sleep. Had he caused it?

Once again the heaviness fell upon him at wondering if he was indeed the cause of her sorrow. The first reaction was to reach out and wipe the errant tear. Instead John blew out the lamp instead. On the bedroll, he stared up at the ceiling. From now on, he'd make more of an effort to keep a distance from her. The kiss was a mistake. Now he'd gotten the curiosity out of his system, it would be easier to control any impulses in the future. Yet down deep he knew it was a lie; he'd never forget the taste of Mae's kiss.

The next morning, Mae ate breakfast downstairs while John bathed. Mrs. Clearwater poured coffee into a large sturdy mug for her. She'd lingered in bed as long as possible enjoying the comfort of the soft mattress. When she'd first awakened, the sight of a sleeping John kept her attention. On his back, he was sprawled on the blankets, his breathing even, on hand curled under his jaw. Thankfully, guilt didn't assail, as he seemed as comfortable as she on the downy bed coverings she'd shed from the bed.

Mrs. Clearwater placed a plate replete with eggs and potatoes before the woman smiled brightly at Mae's enthusiastic eating.

"Is there a stagecoach stop in the next town?" Mae blurted between bites, realizing her mistake when the woman's concerned gaze focused on her bruised lip.

"No dear there isn't, not a regular stop anyway. The route runs south of here, so you'd have to double back a ways." She looked over her shoulder toward the staircase. "Does he beat you often?"

Mae met the woman's eyes evenly. "No John does not hit me. He'd never lay a hand on me. Thank you for your concern, but we really were accosted." She waved away the woman's apology. "I asked because I planned to recommend your home to my -- my mother when she travels to visit me."

"Oh dear, that would be lovely. If she comes through here, I'd love to meet her."

John descended the stairs, his eyes immediately seeking her. "Good morning." With wet hair brushed away from his face and a clean shirt, he looked refreshed and unfortunately as handsome as ever.

Both women responded and Mrs. Clearwater hustled to the stove to fetch his breakfast.

"There isn't a stagecoach stop along this road," Mae told him keeping her eyes on her coffee cup and her voice to a whisper.

"I will get you to Texas Mae," he replied in a low tone. "It's going to be fine, I will ensure nothing else will happen between us to make this trip harder than it needs to be."

She hoped so. Because it was already proving to be an ordeal.