The three tents Douglas had brought with them were set up at the end of the dirt street. Kerosene lanterns burned brightly, and the aroma of cooking food filled the night air. Mosquitoes buzzed about the children who played happily around the tents, while moths fluttered in the light shining from the lamps. Douglas walked beside Natasha, shining the flashlight ahead of them in the dirt so they could see where they were stepping. She could feel the tingle from the kiss radiate through her veins, her lips still throbbed where they were pressed together.

Teresa and Manuel were speaking softly in words Natasha couldn't understand but looked up at their approach and smiled friendly. They were a young couple in their early twenties, and from what Natasha had heard them tell Old Henry, they came to California illegally from Tijuana, in the back of a semi-truck filled with cattle. Their families didn't care much for their marriage and fought to keep them apart, even to the point at one time, to file divorce papers in their names. After their oldest child Elisa, who was now five, was born, Teresa's mother told Manuel to take her daughter and leave. She blamed Manuel for her daughter's disgrace and openly disowned Teresa, refusing to acknowledge their legal marriage or the birth of their child.

Natasha felt some degree of sympathy for the young couple. They had married against their families’ wishes, and thought that by having a child, they could unite the families. Their love for each other was stronger than their devotion to their parents, and because of that love, they had left their home and came to America to start over. Two years after they arrived in Los Angeles with their two small daughters, Elisa and Pia, Manuel lost his job and was forced to accept a lower-paying position as a busboy at a Mexican restaurant.

Teresa had given birth to Veta in the clinic where Douglas worked, and almost immediately became pregnant again. With the price of housing and the small amount Manuel could make, the young couple was forced to apply for welfare. The social worker, however, discovered their illegal status in the U.S., and threatened to have them deported. That was when they began living on the streets. It was said, if you didn't want to be found you hid where everyone could see you. Everyone saw the homeless, yet no one was willing to look at them.

Beverly sat beside the campfire, a pan sizzling across the flames and another sitting on a rock nearby. The smell of hot dogs made the children laugh and sing, while they played leapfrog in the deserted street, asking repeatedly if dinner was ready. Natasha looked at Jacob, who sat by himself against the edge of the wooden walkway in front of the buildings. The cigarette he puffed on, lit up his face in a soft amber glow, but Natasha felt certain he didn't know or care where he was at that moment. Nate stirred awake by the sounds of the children playing and looked around at the sights of nightfall.

"I think Uncle Herman put your things in that tent there," Beverly said, looking up at Natasha and the baby. "If you want, I'll be happy to take care of the baby from now on."

"The hell you will," Jacob said in a rough growl. "We have enough damn brats, we don't need to take care of anyone else's."

"That won't be necessary, Mrs. Strause, but thank you. I'll keep Nate with me."

Natasha started toward the tent, irritation and anger filling her mind. She once feared Douglas might try to take Nate from her, but she never imagined any of the others would try as well. She supposed she didn’t think about it because they never showed any interest in the baby when his mother left him alone.

"Nate," Jacob snorted, crushing his cigarette out in the dirt next to him. "Where the hell did you come up with that name?"

"That's his name, Mr. Strause," Natasha answered, making her way closer to the tent, hoping to ignore any further argument with the man.

"The hell it is. His mother was a whore, she didn't even know who his father was, so how could she give him a name?"

"I'm Nate's mother now, and I'll thank you to remember that." Natasha pulled the flaps back on the tent, listening to the gurgling of the baby against her shoulder.

"He's not your kid, and he never will be. If you want a damn baby so bad, why don't you come over here and I'll help you make one."

Natasha gasped at the man's nerve, turning a startled angry stare on him while Manuel cleared his throat and Teresa looked as appalled as Natasha.

"You'll do no such thing!" Beverly growled slamming the pan she was holding down in the dirt. "It's one thing to sit by and watch you sleep with that street whore, but I'm warning you Jacob Strause, you go anywhere near that girl and it'll be the last thing you'll ever do."

"Don't worry, Beverly," Douglas interrupted, stepping between Jacob and Natasha. "He won't be taking up his old habits here, and definitely not with my woman."

"So, you've laid claim to the little tramp, eh Herman?" Jacob chuckled, with a disgusting sound rumbling in his throat, before spitting in the dirt.

"Watch what you say, Strause," Douglas warned softly, ignoring the man's lack of manners, as his fists rolled into tight balls next to his powerful thighs.

"I don't think it's very fair, Herman. You have the only woman around here, worth looking at. She cleans up real nice, doesn't she? I'll bet she tastes as sweet as she looks, too."

Douglas closed the distance between them in two strides, wrapping his large hands around the man's collar and jerking him off the ground. Jacob gasped as his feet left the earth beneath him, his face level with the wall of muscles straining to remain under control.

"This is the last time I’ll warn you, Strause, keep your ugly mouth shut and stay away from Natasha, or I'll have to do something you'll regret for a very long time. If you want to have a woman, try taking your own for a change, that is if she’ll even have you after the disgusting things you’ve done to her."

"Let me go, Herman, I was only joking. God, can't you take a joke?"

"Not when it's concerning a woman's dignity, and you won't be talking like that again, understand? I won't have you teaching these children to act like a snake."

"Alright, alright, whatever you say just put me down."

Douglas slowly lowered the man to the ground, until his feet were securely level in the earth, keeping a tight hold on his shirt to make certain he understood exactly what he was getting involved in, if he acted up again.

"Take it easy, Son," Henry said, stepping up to Douglas's side. "The boy's suffering from a lack of booze. He'll straighten out in a day or so."

"He'd better if he knows what's good for him." Douglas released his grip but remained in front of Jacob.

"I think your lady needs you more right now than Jacob does," Henry said, nodding to Natasha who stood dumbfounded by the tent's opening. "She looks a might shook up."

Douglas turned around and saw Natasha, feeling the tension and anger drain out of him the instant he locked his gaze on her.

"I'm trusting you to keep him under control," he told Beverly, looking down at the woman's pale face. "If you can't make him behave, I will...gladly."

Beverly knew the statement was more of a warning for Jacob's benefit, than her own, but she nodded all the same.

Natasha watched in stunned silence as Douglas approached her. Her legs shook with emotion, her eyes watered with fear, but whether it was for herself or for Jacob she wasn't certain. She never imagined Douglas could become so angry, or appear so large, and dangerous. She had no idea what he was thinking, or how he was feeling as he stepped closer to her, all she knew was for the first time since she had known the man, she was frightened of him. His strength was four times that of an ordinary man, and at least ten times that of her own.

"Are you alright?" he asked her softly, his hand touching her cheek gently. Natasha nodded silently, unable to speak and unwilling to move. "Come on," he continued in a deep tone, filled with tenderness. "We'd better get Nate out of the night air."

He held the flap open, slowly easing her under the canvas dome with a warm hand on the small of her back.

Once inside, he took Nate from her arms, and laid him carefully to the sleeping bags that had been placed on the covered floor.

"I'm sorry that upset you so much, Sweetheart," Douglas said in a voice low enough, only she could hear him. "I just couldn't stand by and allow him to talk about you like that. I'm sure he didn't really mean anything he said. He's going through withdrawals, and the next few days are going to be rough on him."

"Would you really have hurt him?" Natasha whispered, her voice shaking with the emotion pinned up within her.

"Only if I thought it was necessary. I don't like fighting, and I especially don't like the results afterward, but I will fight him if he ever comes near you or Nate. I won't stand for him trying to push his weight around."

"It's your weight that concerns me," Natasha said, more for her own benefit than his.

Douglas chuckled, reaching up and holding his hand out for her to take then pulled her down to the padded floor next to him.

"I know I frighten you, Sweetheart. Most women feel a certain degree of fear when they meet me, my size and all, but I'll never hurt you."

"Maybe not intentionally..."

"No, not at all, that's a promise."

Natasha sighed deeply, hoping it would pull her nerves under control.

"Why did you tell him I was your woman?"

The memories of the confrontation began to filter through her emotions and register in a realistic format.

"If Strause thinks you belong to me, that we're involved, he'll keep his distance in the future. Unfortunately, we'll have to share the same tent for a while."

"Why? He won't come near me with his wife around. You told her to keep him under control, or you'd have to. That's enough to keep him from trying anything."

"I wouldn't count on it, Natasha. His wife was back in L.A. with him, and that didn't prevent him from sleeping with Sugar every chance he got."

"We can't share the same tent, Douglas, it's impossible."

Dignity and modesty were rare commodities nowadays, but Natasha was feeling their full force as she imagined sleeping next to him every night. She couldn't even begin to visualize what it would be like. He was too physically powerful and too sexually stimulating for her to resist if he tried to kiss her again, much less anything else.

"Why not? It's not like the idea is completely out of the question. I know you’re attracted to me, nearly as much as I am to you. I felt it a little while ago when I kissed you, and earlier today at the pond. Is the thought of us becoming lovers so disturbing to you, you're willing to risk Jacob Strause's advances?"

"This doesn't have anything to do with Jacob Strause. I simply cannot share a tent with you, and that's all there is to it. Now, would you kindly leave so I can get Nate ready for bed?"

Douglas sighed, trying to contain his rising anger before continuing.

"You don't seem to understand, Sweetheart," he began calmly. "It's not just for your protection, we share a living space. There are three tents. Old Henry has back problems, and sleeping on the ground is painful for him, so I put him up in the cab of the truck. The older children are sleeping in the bed of the pick-up and the younger ones are sleeping with their parents. The Valdez's have one tent as their home until we can fix up one of the buildings for them, and the Strauses have the other. That leaves one tent, this one, and you and me without a place to sleep."

"Where were you going to sleep, before you told Jacob we were lovers?" Natasha was astonished at how readily he seemed to find an excuse for bedding down with her.

"I was planning on sleeping either in here with you or in the pick-up, but since Old Henry wanted the cab and the older kids wanted the truck bed, there's nowhere else to go. If you can come up with a better solution, than let's have it, but until then you may as well get used to the idea of sleeping with me - strictly platonically of course, so quit acting like a frigid little virgin and start accepting facts as they are. You're stuck with me, Sweetheart, at least until we can come up with a better solution."

Douglas finished his lecture, then slipped out of the tent before Natasha could reply.

Less than an hour ago, she would have willingly surrendered the virginity he had thrown in her face to him, now she would rather sleep with the rats in the saloon than spend one minute in his arms. It wasn’t so much the sharing part that had her bothered, it was what came after, she was worried about. She had never felt so drawn or attracted to a man before, much less a walking mountain. How was she ever going to withstand his advances if he tried to test the waters. Then again, did she really want to?

Dinner that night consisted of hot dogs, beans, and potato chips. Far from dinner at the Ritz, but nobody seemed to mind. Given the fact that food was scarce and rarely available, the meal was a welcome banquet. Douglas remained by Natasha's side throughout the evening, yet somehow managed to keep a distance between them. He could feel her tension and knew he had insulted her ego, but then she had done the same to him. He could give her the names of ten women - no make that twenty - who would willingly switch places with her, but unlike them, she would rather sleep with the coyotes than be within ten feet of him.

Natasha ate her meal in silence, she'd finally decided there was nothing else to do but accept her fate and told Douglas she agreed to share accommodations with him, before they joined the others for dinner. After that, she slid quietly into a state of reclusive solitude. Only Nate had managed to get a response from her, and that was for his benefit only.

She finished her meal and set the plate aside with the others, while Manuel and Teresa prepared to wash them. It had been decided that they would all rotate turns cooking and washing, each taking a full day at a time on the assigned chore. Tomorrow, Manuel and Teresa would do the cooking and Natasha and Douglas would do the washing. Not exactly favorable conditions, but it was better than the dirty water bucket under the concrete bridge back in town.

"So, Uncle Herman, what are the plans for tomorrow?" Henry asked, slurping the last of the coffee from his tin cup.

"I think the first thing we need to do is take an inventory of what there is and find out what needs doing. If we work together, we can fix up one place at a time and a family can move into the building when it’s finished. We should be able to have enough of the places fixed up - or at least livable by Christmas." Douglas finished speaking and set his empty coffee cup aside.

"Do you really think we can do it, Uncle Herman?" Beverly asked. Douglas glanced up at Natasha and smiled.

"A dream is just a dream until you put some action into it. I know we can do it if we're willing to work together."

"Well, I'm ready to start now if we only had a little light," Henry said rubbing his hands together.

The small crowd roared with laughter as a cheer of excitement rose among the children, an eagerness to work rather than sleep became an interesting alternative.

"I think we should all get a good night's sleep,” Douglas insisted with a hearty chuckle. “Tomorrow we'll get up early and get a jump on things. We'll have to make a list of the supplies we need, and I can get those when I go into town, and then I have to check out the tent we left behind to see if anyone else showed up. With luck, we should be able to at least get a little bit of cleaning done."

He stretched his long legs out in front of him as he finished talking, ignoring the disappointed groans from the children.

"I have a suggestion," Natasha said, speaking up for the first time since the conversation began.

Douglas sighed a deep breath, certain her suggestion would be leaving the town and the dreams of rebuilding it behind.

"Why don't we start on the saloon? When I was in there earlier, I counted eleven bedrooms and a bathroom on the upper level. If we worked on fixing them up first, we'll all have a place to live while we're working on the other buildings. This way, we can take our time fixing up the rest of the town, and if it takes longer than Christmas, then at least we'll have a roof over our heads."

"That's a good idea," Teresa said, her Spanish accent tinting her every word. Manuel smiled and began caressing the swollen stomach of his beloved wife.

"There are several tables we should be able to fix up. We can use the main room as a dining hall, and we can fix up the stage into a kitchen or maybe even a living room, someplace we can gather together."

Natasha's voice began to grow in strength, as she spoke of the ideas springing to mind. Douglas listened in silence, a smile of pride and knowledge etching his handsome face. She was getting as excited about building a life here, as the others were, a fact he had been counting on from the very beginning.

"If we can get the material, I can sew some curtains," Beverly said, eagerly.

"And I can make clothes, I'm a good seamstress," Teresa added, excitedly.

"I'm sure if we look around, we can find enough wood that's still in good enough condition to start mending the stairs,” Henry added. “Jacob is a carpenter, he's the one to tell us whether the wood is usable or not."

The old man was becoming just as excited as the others, adding his ideas and suggestions to the conversation.

"You know, I'll bet we can find enough furniture around these old buildings, so we could move in right away," Beverly commented.

"Not so fast," Douglas interrupted. "There is no glass in the windows and until Jacob can inspect the place, there's no telling whether the floor above our heads is going to fall through or not. We may just find ourselves under a pile of rubble come daybreak."

"I was up there Douglas, it seemed alright to me. I'll bet once we clean the rooms, we can start sleeping in them right away. There are no beds of course, but we can sleep on the floors once they're clean."

Natasha forgot her irritation and found her enthusiasm strengthening her determination.

"Need I remind you, Sweetheart, there are also rats living in that place? Do you want to wake up and find a rodent in your bed with you, not to mention a variety of spiders?"

"You don't need to remind me, and it's better than waking up with you in my bed," Natasha snapped, then blushed at the realization of her statement as the others chuckled.

"There is a slight difference between a rodent and me, Sweetheart," Douglas began, leaning closer to her and capturing her blue eyes with his penetrating green gaze. "When I bite, I don't leave rabies. Rats and mice can."

"How are we going to get rid of them?" Manuel asked, suddenly afraid for his children's welfare, not to mention the rest of them.

"The only way I know of, is with traps or cats, and we're fresh out of both."

Douglas adjusted himself to a sitting position away from Natasha and her all too inviting lips, as he continued the conversation.

"Well, we're just going to have to get some traps then," Henry said proudly. "Either that, or we go back to the city and collect all the stray cats we can find."

"There's a problem with that, too," Douglas added. "Strays have fleas and unless they've been vaccinated, there's a good chance they may have distemper."

"You're just filled with good news tonight, aren't you?"

Natasha recovered from her embarrassment enough to add the snide comment, receiving a look of disapproval from the man next to her.

"What if we tried to catch them? I'll bet we'd be able to round them all up in just a couple of hours," Beverly added, boldly.

"Hundreds of them?" Jacob asked, finally deciding to join the conversation.

"There aren't that many, are there Uncle Herman?" Beverly asked, looking at him from across the fire.

"If not more," Douglas replied, nodding his head in agreement.

"What are we going to do?" Teresa asked in a fearful voice.

The thought of returning to the hell they just left in the cold city, was enough to make them face the rats, and fight them for the town.

"The first thing we do is get some sleep," Douglas reminded them sternly. "There's no point in worrying about any of this tonight. Tomorrow will be here before we know it, and if we don't get to bed we'll still be here talking about what we're going to do at daybreak. In the morning, we'll take a tour through the saloon and see what happens after that."

"You're right," they all agreed, standing up and gathering the remainder of their meal together.

Beverly gathered the children together, and quickly ushered them to the truck, insisting they say a prayer and thank God for sending them Uncle Herman. Within a few minutes, the group had dispersed completely, each retiring to their sleeping places with uttered words of goodnight.

"Sweet dreams," the children cried out through the stillness of the night, being answered by the exhausted responses of the adults.

Douglas zipped the flap of their tent closed and glanced down to Natasha who was already in one of the sleeping bags, cuddled close to Nate.

"Sweet dreams to you too, Sweetheart," he whispered as he leaned across her and kissed her cheek, a grin pulled the corners of his lips up as if to say, I told you so.

Natasha glared at the man, through narrowed eyes. She still had doubts about his endeavors, but there was an air of hope that seemed to embrace the small group, though she would never admit it to him.

She snuggled down inside the heavy, well-used sleeping bag that smelled of being stored for quite some time and zipped her and Nate up inside it. She hugged the sleeping child close and rolled onto her side, offering Douglas her back as a companion. Memories of that night began to filter through the exhaustion and fatigue, bringing with it the thrill of a challenge and the hope of a real future.

She thought of what the old saloon would look like when they finished with it, envisioned the old town filled with laughter and happiness the way it had once been. The realization that dreams could come true remained with her as she drifted off to sleep. Dreams worth holding on to, worth working for. For the first time in months, there was something worth doing, a dream worth building - like Douglas kept saying, hope was a four-letter word for faith. That was the one thing she had lost all these long months on the streets. Somehow, being driven into the desert with a strange man and a group of homeless reprobates, to build a future out of rotting wood and splintering timbers didn’t seem quite as bad as it had once sounded.

Douglas grunted his irritation when Natasha handed him a forgotten plate, now dry and caked with grease, gravy and eggs from breakfast. He made haste with the diaper she donated as a washcloth and scrubbed the debris from the plastic disc, before handing it back to her, who dried it with a second diaper. With breakfast over, the dishes washed and the children gathering blankets and sleeping bags together, they were ready to begin their day's tasks. Natasha took the wet diapers and rung them out, hanging them across one of the wooden beams of the covered walkway, so they could dry under the hot morning sun.

"We'll need to get more water before lunch," Douglas told her, emptying the pan of dishwater in the dirt at the end of the wooden sidewalk.

"Where do we find water out here?" she asked looking around the deserted street.

"There's a stream and a small pond not far from here, we can walk there in just a few minutes. In fact, the town was built because of that stream. Some miners back in the eighteen fifties found gold there and when news got out, prospectors flocked in from all over the country."

"How do you know so much about this place?" Natasha asked, sticking her hands in the back pockets of her worn jeans.

Douglas watched her actions with interest, admiring how his long shirt had been tied into a knot around her tiny waist to make it fit better.

"Matt found an old book on ghost towns and told me about it. There wasn't much written about the place, just a few lines about the gold rush and a problem with an Indian tribe at the time."

"How long has it been deserted?"

"Since the late eighteen-eighties, as I recall. Some of the settlers tried to make farms and ranches out here when the gold started drying up but left soon after they started. Matt never told me why, and I never thought to ask."

"Maybe they couldn't get anything to grow, the soil is a little rough."

"With the right work and the right crop, I think we'd be able to make a farm work."

"Do you really think we could get anything to grow? It’s all sand and the ground’s as hard as concrete."

"I honestly don't see a problem. A century ago they didn't have the machinery, or the knowledge we do today, which may explain their leaving. We could start off with a small garden. It would be nice to grow a few vegetables of our own. It would save us having to buy them, and it would teach the kids how to take care of what they have.”

“I know a little about gardening, my mother and grandparents always had one when I was growing up. It was hard work, but Nathan and I loved to eat the vegetables, so we didn't complain too much about it."

"Fresh vegetables would save a lot of money and be a refreshing change to pancakes and potatoes. We'll have to find the right spot and get some seeds, but I'll bet with a little determination and elbow grease we could make it work. Let's see what the others have to say about it."

"Douglas," Natasha said, halting the man's departure. "I want to apologize, about the way I acted last night. I know I was wrong and I'm sorry."

Douglas stepped back to where she stood, his hands reaching out and circling her tiny waist.

"I'll accept your apology, on one condition," he began with a serious look. "Tell me why you're afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you," she answered, feeling light-headed and nervous by his touch.

"Yes, you are, I can feel it. Every time I look at you, I can see it in your eyes. The only time I'm sure you're not going to run away screaming in horror is when I kiss you. Now don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind kissing you every chance I got, but it wouldn't do much to relieve your fear. Is it my hair, my morning breath, what? I need to know."

Natasha laughed at the man's easy manner, feeling relaxed and comfortable in his embrace. He was right, he did frighten her, but she didn't know why and certainly wouldn't know how to explain it if she did.

"It's not you exactly," she began softly. "It's just me. I'm not very good at making friends, at least not male ones."

"As beautiful as you are," he stated, lifting a strand of red hair to his nose. "I can't believe you weren't a very popular girl growing up. I'll bet you had a dozen boyfriends calling every hour of the day and night."

"I only had two boyfriends and they didn't last very long. I guess, I just wasn't meant to be popular in that way."

Douglas eyed the woman strangely for a moment before chuckling softly, easing her closer to his chest.

"You are nothing I assumed you would be,” he said with a warm smile. “Actually, I'm rather glad about that. It's nice to know a real woman for a change."

"And what happens when you grow tired of knowing this real woman?"

"Is that why you're afraid? You think I'm going to run out on you, on all of you, just as soon as I get bored? I'm not that shallow, Sweetheart."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then answer my question so I'll understand what you mean. Tell me why I frighten you."

Natasha stiffened in his embrace, wondering how he would take her reply.

"I've never known a man like you. You're willing to give up your job and your home just to help a group of people you don't know."

"You're building my ego now, but you still haven't answered my question. I promise you won't hurt me with your remarks. I'm a big boy. I can take it."

"You're a lot bigger than a boy," she replied in a nervous whisper.

Douglas eyed the woman, inspecting her for a long moment before smiling, revealing a set of perfectly straight white teeth, in a warm, inviting grin.

"Is that it? You're afraid of my size?" Natasha looked at the questioning green eyes, before nodding silently. "You're a very odd, young woman," he chuckled, pressing her cheek against his hard chest. “I think you’re going to keep me on my toes.”

"Why? I haven't done anything."

"Oh yes, you have."

He eased her away from him, tilting her chin up to look in her innocent blue eyes as he continued.

"You've blown every thought I'd ever had about you, right out of the water. The others called you quiet, so I assumed you were either stoned or drunk, maybe deaf, then you turn out to be anything but quiet. When I first saw you, I thought you were a child and I despised myself for being attracted to you, and then I learn you’re an adult. A desirable and beautiful adult, with a body to stun a horse. You argue with me every chance you get, challenge, and confront me, but when I come close, you hide. Then when I assume you're a spoiled runaway, I find out you're on the streets for noble causes, looking for your brother who's in trouble. You take in a homeless infant and give him love, food, and shelter, and feed a group of families you don't even know with food you could have kept for yourself. Why? Who are you Natasha Palmer, and why is it I feel so absolutely addicted to you?"

Natasha eyed him with curiosity, wondering if it were possible for her to be all he claimed she was, unable to believe his words were anything more than a fleeting fancy, a masculine desire for a woman caused by being away from normal people for so long.

"I'm nobody," she responded, feeling betrayed by her own thoughts, and confused by the sudden eruption of feeling she had never experienced before. "I'm a frigid virgin, who doesn't believe in dreams, remember? Maybe you're right, maybe I am a spoiled runaway. Why else would I leave an abusive step-father and a mother who is drunk twenty-four-seven, just to travel all the way to Los Angeles on foot, too afraid of hitching a ride, to find my twin brother who writes me one little letter, one letter, the first in over a year, begging me to send him money?”

She pushed out of his embrace as she continued speaking, feeling a dam of emotion break free inside her, flooding the man with the full effects of months of having been pent up.

“None of that sounds much like the kind of life a respectable young woman would live if you ask me. And as for feeding all those people, I knew they needed food and I came upon it, simple as that. I took that baby in because nobody else would. The Strause's were there, so were the Valdez’s, they all saw his mother leave and never attempted to stop his crying or soothe his fears. He was left to starve and perish in the streets while those around him pretended he didn’t exist. And you ask me why I don’t believe these people can rebuild a town? Look around at your new neighbors, Douglas, and then ask me again. They are lazy and selfish, thinking only of themselves and what they can get to benefit their own satisfaction. Drugs, alcohol, prostitutes, it’s all the same thing, an addiction that will one day destroy all your dreams. As for me, I’m just another number on the books of society, easily seen easily forgotten, hell, my own mother can barely remember my name much less that she has a daughter. As I said, I’m nothing."

Natasha turned away and walked toward the small tent she had spent a very restless night in, tears streaming down her cheeks unnoticed, her head pounding and her heartbreaking. For the first time since leaving home, she finally forced herself to face the reality of what she had done to herself, what her brother caused her to do.

Douglas watched her departure with a frown furrowing his brow. One minute she appeared shy and afraid of her own shadow, not to mention his, admitting to a past she had probably never spoken of to another living creature before, the next minute she was like a wounded leopard in his arms, fighting for her freedom, striking him in the face with a reality that had sunk into her soul like a festering wound. She was more frightened then he gave her credit for and more vulnerable than she was willing to admit. What she said was the truth, these people were selfish but not from their own doing, time and society had caused them to think only of their next action. They needed a fix and the only one he would provide them was a dream. A dream he hoped she would soon succumb to and embrace as her own.

"It's hopeless," Jacob growled, anger and irritation raking in his voice, the effects of withdrawal beginning to show in his shallow face and shaking hands. "There isn't a damn thing in here that's worth saving. Why the hell don't you just set fire to the place and have done with it?"

Douglas watched the man’s actions carefully, as though examining him, watching every step he took, listened closely to every word he spoke, and narrowing his green eyes whenever the man bumped into something. It was obvious to everyone, something was wrong with Jacob, something was happening to him, but he wouldn't allow anyone close enough to offer assistance or even give him a comforting shoulder to lean on. Whenever his children or Beverly stepped within a foot's distance of him, he would growl and narrow his eyes like a rabid dog, frightening them away. Twice he had raised his hand to strike one of them, but then thought differently when he spied Douglas standing by, waiting for the blow he knew the large man was eager to deliver.

"Do you think you can finish this?" Douglas asked Henry, in a quiet whisper.

The old man nodded silently, gripping Douglas's arm when he turned to leave.

"Give him some distance, Son," Henry commented. "He's going through a pretty rough time, right now."

"I'm aware of what he's going through. I'll stay clear until I'm needed, don't worry, but I'll need you to help keep the others away as well. When the time comes, I don't want the children around to watch their father. It wouldn't be very good for any of them."

"I understand. I'll do whatever is needed."

Douglas watched Jacob stagger back into the street, shielding his eyes from the light of the morning sun. He turned to see Henry begin his inspection of the saloon, instructing Bradley to write down the materials they would need, and ordering the others to take inventory of the furniture and number of rooms. Having the old man around was just as useful as Jacob, though Douglas had hoped that getting the drunk working would help his recovery, that much quicker.

"What's going on?" Natasha asked once Henry and the others had left the room, while Nate fussed against her shoulder, biting and sucking on his tiny fist.

"Jacob's going through the first true stages of withdrawal," Douglas explained, glancing down at the child and smiled, touching his soft cheek gently.

Natasha was proving his assumptions wrong. She was turning out to be a loving mother and it was more than obvious she cared a great deal for the baby. If only he could get into her heart as easily as the child had, maybe he could help her have faith in a dream, maybe she could help him learn to love again in return.

“Is he dangerous?"

Douglas frowned, her question filtered through his thoughts, bringing him back to the subject at hand.

"He could be if he's not controlled. Help Henry keep the others busy for me, will you? I don't know what's going to happen with Jacob next. Every person is different and it's best if the others aren't in the way."

"Douglas," Natasha hesitated, trying to form in her mind the question she needed answering. "Will he die?"

Douglas slid his arms around her waist, cursing himself again for the surge of desire rising in his neglected libido.

"Not if I have anything to say about it, Sweetheart. He's an alcoholic and he needs a drink like a starving child needs food," he glanced down at Nate as he said this, realizing how close his statement hit home. "As time passes, and the effects begin to grow, he's going to get worse. Eventually, I'll have to take him in hand and that's when I'm going to need you the most. I'll need water and coffee and nothing else, understand? No children, no observers, no help. Can you do that for me, Sweetheart?"

"I'll try, but what about Beverly? She's going to want to be with her husband."

"She won't be able to help him, and she'll just get in the way or get hurt. Jacob doesn't realize what he's doing, he doesn't really understand where he is or how he got here, and until his system is clean he won't be able to recognize his wife and children. He's hurting, Natasha, he's in real physical pain and like any wounded animal, he will attack."

"I'm scared, Douglas. What if he tries to come after one of us in the middle of the night? What if he comes after you?"

"He won't get that far, I'll stop him first. You have to have faith, Sweetheart, in me, and in my ability to help him."

"I'll try."

Douglas hugged her gently to him, glancing in the direction Jacob had taken.

"Go help Henry now,” he said, kissing her cheek. “We still need to know what kind of work we're looking at here. There's a lot to do, and we're going to need all the help we can get."

"Please be careful," Natasha added, her voice shaking with fear that caused Douglas to smile slyly, knowing this time her fear was not because of him, but for him.

"You won't be able to get rid of me that easily, Sweetheart," he assured her, tipping her chin up so he could look directly into her blue eyes.

Slowly and surely, he lowered his lips to hers, pushing aside the nagging feeling that warned him not to rush her. Her lips against his caused him to groan softly, deep within his chest. It had been too long since he'd last had a woman, he told himself, hoping to find some reason for desiring her as desperately as he did. He was certain once he made love to a woman again, he would no longer crave this closeness. At least, he hoped he wouldn't.

"Go on now," he ordered in a husky voice, his accent making his words nearly impossible for her to understand. "I'll call you if I need you."

Natasha patted Nate on the back softly as she walked away, feeling emptier at that moment than she had all the nights she slept under that cold freeway. She feared for herself and for the others, for the children who would have to witness their father's reactions, and for Douglas who had to face him and hold him back once things became unbearable. She walked slowly into the room next to the bar, where Henry and the others could be heard talking and whispered a silent prayer.

"Please help him," she said, trying to believe for the first time in twelve years in the faith and hope Douglas continued to talk about.