Breakfast the next morning was eaten in near silence. The only noise heard was that of the children playing nearby and the soft Spanish spoken between Manuel and Teresa. Nate whimpered from time to time to remind everyone of his existence, and the call of birds echoed through the autumn morning. Natasha tried to concentrate as the others planned their day’s task of cleaning the upstairs of the saloon. She found herself looking out across the empty desert for a lone red pick-up, longing for the return of the man her heart cried out to.

Five hours had passed since Douglas went after Jacob, and still there was no sign of either man. Natasha's mind bounced between memories of passionate kisses and shouts of angry tempers. She felt her heart pounding wildly whenever she remembered last night, being held in Douglas's arms, his kisses stimulating responses she never knew herself capable of giving. Then thoughts of Jacob would invade her pleasure and the fear for Douglas's safety would again cry out for his return.

"I guess we should get started," Henry said, bringing a halt to the silence enveloping the small group and the thoughts swarming through Natasha's tired mind.

He shouted to the children and waved them back, instructing them to gather the cleaning supplies and take them into the saloon. Natasha began stacking the dishes to wash, when the sound she had been waiting all night for, echoed through the air.

Douglas pulled his truck to a halt behind the tents, sending a cloud of dust and uprooted weeds flying through the air. He slid out of the driver's seat, closing the door to the cab, then glanced in the back of the truck at the unconscious man surrounded by the walls of metal. His hair was mussed from the wind blowing through the open windows and his eyes looked puffy and tired. He proceeded to the fire with a weary step, sinking down in the dirt next to Natasha.

"How's Jacob?" Beverly asked, her tone appeared cold and unconcerned, yet she knew she had to ask, for the sake of the others, if not her own.

"He's asleep," Douglas said, taking the cup of coffee Teresa passed to him.

"Is he alright?" Manuel asked, sitting down on the ground across from him.

Douglas took a deep breath, swallowing the hot coffee in his cup before replying.

"I had to sedate him, but I think he'll be okay for a while."

"What happens when he comes to?" Henry asked after shooing the children into the saloon, with the homemade brooms and cleaning supplies.

"I don't know. I can't sedate him every time he wakes up and I really don't know how long I'll be able to control him otherwise. I just wish we had someplace to put him where he wouldn't do any harm."

"Maybe you should take him back to the city?" Beverly suggested pouring the hot water into the pan they used to wash the saloon. "You could put him in the hospital."

"I don't think they could do much more for him, than I am, and it would prove very expensive."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to make due then," Henry said, optimistic as always.

The small group talked a few minutes longer before dividing up to begin the day's work. Natasha remained with Douglas while the others went about the task of cleaning the top floor of the saloon. Her nerves sprang to life when he looked at her, his eyes tired yet holding a secret seductive twinkle.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, reaching for a plate.

Douglas stopped her hand in midair and pulled her closer to him, his gaze roaming her face, his fingers gliding through her hair.

"I think I'm more tired than hungry," he told her, raising her chin with his forefinger and thumb, tilting it in the position he desired most. "I'm sorry about last night," he whispered, kissing her lips tenderly. "If I had the chance to do it all over again, I wouldn't have allowed anything to come between us, and there wouldn't be any power on earth that would have stopped us. I promise to make it right with you."

"You really didn't have a choice." Natasha felt the burning heat of her blush tint her delicate skin. "You're not the kind of man to sit back and watch while someone tears the camp apart."

"Do you want to hear something?" he asked, pulling her across his lap and cradling her in his arms. Natasha nodded. "There was a point last night, when I wished I could have just left him to the fate of the desert. I've never felt like that about anyone before."

"You're only human, Douglas," she said, snuggling closer to his broad chest and accepting, as well as giving, the comfort they both needed.

"Being human doesn't excuse me from wanting the man dead, Sweetheart. I can't get the thought out of my mind. I'm a doctor, I've given my life to healing not killing."

Natasha stared at the man for a few minutes with disbelief. She wondered why he had been able to get his hands on the sedatives in that little black pouch. He told her he had once worked at a hospital before working at the clinic, but until now she assumed he was a volunteer, not a doctor. Somehow, his admission to the fact seemed to help settle her nerves a little. Having a doctor around was much more convenient, especially in dealing with Jacob Strause, than a clinic volunteer with visions of grandeur.

"You can't help how you feel, Douglas," she continued at last. "Especially when you're tired. You should lie down for a while and get some sleep. I don't think you'll be able to rest once the kids start playing, but you should be able to sneak in a couple of hours at least."

"You look tired yourself," he said in a husky tone, his hand caressing the leg stretched out across his own as it traveled slowly upward. "Why don't you come lay down with me?"

"I'd love to, but there's work to do and I can't let the others do it alone. Besides, Nate is still asleep, so you'll have his company to keep you warm."

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," he complained, chuckling at her embarrassment.

"Too bad. It's that or nothing, you decide."

"I am tired, so I'll do as you say - this one time - but I expect a rain check for later."

Natasha hugged his strong neck, thrilled with the moment of teasing.

"I don't know how large of a check I can issue, but I'll make the offer just the same."

"Leave it blank, Sweetheart," he told her, his hand caressing her back and hips as he returned her hug. "I'll fill in the amount later."

"What if I haven't the funds to cover it?"

"I'll accept an IOU."

Douglas smiled a tired grin when she eased away from him, and reluctantly let go of her altogether. Natasha stood up off his lap and reached down, holding her hand out to help him to his feet.

"Do you think it's safe to leave Jacob alone?"

"He's got enough drugs in him to stun a horse for a good six hours. I'm not worried."

"Then go lie down and rest. I'll take Nate with me, so he won't disturb you."

"Leave him be. I'll bring him to you if he becomes too much to handle."

"Are you sure?"

Douglas pulled Natasha back into his embrace and kissed her lips for several long moments.

"You may have taken him in and given him a mother he never really had, but since he doesn't have a father, I'm taking over. I can love him just as well as you can."

"Douglas," Natasha began, eager to object.

He slid a long finger across her lips to silence her.

"Every boy needs a Dad, Sweetheart. You can't deny him that, or me for that matter. I want to do this."

"Because he's an orphan, or because you're closer to him than you claim?"

His deep chuckle rumbled through the stillness like thunder.

"He's not my son, Natasha. I don't need to sleep with prostitutes for my comfort, but I did bring him into this world. I think that gives me a few rights, don't you?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate anything. I know your personal life isn't any of my business."

"If you don't have a right to know, then who does? Besides, I rather like making women jealous," he told her leaning closer to whisper in her ear. "They make better lovers, when they think they have to compete."

Natasha blushed scarlet, which got her another chuckle, his warm breath sending goosebumps traveling down her spine to the secret recesses of her most private areas.

"Go to bed, Uncle Herman," she insisted, pushing at his powerful shoulders.

"Are you sure you don't want to join me?" he asked one last time, his invitation interrupted with a yawn of fatigue.

Natasha laughed at the man's embarrassment.

"You can't keep your head up, what makes you think you can keep..."

"Don't say it," he growled, pulling her back into his arms again and pressing the hard evidence of his building energy against her thigh. "For a sweet little virgin, you're very courageous."

"I didn't mean...well, I guess maybe I did, but I didn't think you'd take me seriously."

"You're not still afraid of me, are you?"

"Not really," she said, fear and confusion running wild inside her. "I think I'm more afraid of what I'm feeling."

"Feelings you don't quite understand, is that it?" Natasha nodded shyly. "When I'm rested, and things settle down a bit, I'll help you explore those feelings and maybe a few new ones."

He kissed her with the heat and passion of a man who meant every word he spoke.

"If you don't leave right now, Sweetheart," he told her, his tone deep and husky. "You're not going to get another chance."

Natasha eased out of his embrace when he released her, smiling shyly at the emotion shining in his tired green eyes. She reached down to the baby sleeping soundly on his blanket and picked him up, securing him in his new father’s arms.

"I'll check on you later," she whispered, turning around to leave.

"Natasha," his voice caused her feet to falter and stop, her head turned to look back at him. "I'll be dreaming of us."

Natasha lowered her eyes and smiled, walking to the saloon on legs she was certain had turned to rubber.

"So, will I," she whispered to the silent town, before stepping into the tavern to begin her work.

Four hours had passed since Natasha left Douglas and still, she hadn't heard Nate crying. Fear and concern controlled her better judgment, forcing her to suggest they break for lunch. She hadn't been able to think of anything other than Douglas since he had gone into their tent to sleep. She thought about his kisses and his promise of helping her explore her feelings, but mostly she thought about his insistence to be Nate's father. Natasha never considered the natural father, didn't really think about him, or worry that he may one day come back and claim his son. To her, Nate was hers alone, with no threats of losing him. Her thoughts began filling with images of what Nate's father was like, what he looked like, and who he was. She remembered what Douglas had told her about the boyfriend who brought Rita to the clinic, and how he disappeared into the night, never to be heard from again. Was he Nate’s father or just a guy his mother hooked up with?

Scenarios were running freely in her mind as she considered the possibilities of losing her baby to a faceless, unknown predator. Nate was fair-skinned and fair-haired which could easily make him hers. Even though she was born with red hair, her brother had been blonde like their mother. With Douglas insisting to be the baby’s father, he too was blonde so there would be no questions asked. Her thoughts quickly turned from the unknown sperm donor, back to the man asleep in the dome tent. She asked herself if Douglas would make a good father for Nate. Would he care for the baby as his own, or would he eventually grow tired of playing house and turn his back on the boy?

Natasha closed her eyes, the image of Douglas danced in front of her solitary gaze. She envisioned him playing ball with Nate, the way her father and brother once had. She saw them laughing and telling stories and exploring the wonders of life together. Then she saw Douglas walk away, never to return again.

It could happen, she realized, it had happened with her own father. They never saw him again once he moved out of the house. For all she knew, he was dead and buried, that was the reason he hadn't written to them or came to visit like other fathers did when they divorced their wives of seventeen years. What was to stop Douglas from leaving and returning to the sanity of his life in the city? She knew nothing about the gentle giant she was willing to surrender her virginity to. Hell, she didn’t even know his full name. How could she assume anything about his actions or his motivations?

With a heavy sigh, Natasha wondered if Douglas could be like that, then another image began to form, and she began to wonder if he had any children of his own. A weary thought came to mind, maybe he had a wife and family he was deserting back in the city. Maybe that was why he was so eager to start a new life in the middle of nowhere, an escape from a situation he could no longer bare being a part of. There were many questions suddenly growing to life within her mind, questions that demanded answers, that she couldn’t concentrate on what was happening around her.

Teresa began gathering together the cans of stew and the bags of bread from the box of supplies, while Beverly walked with the children to the stream for freshwater. Henry and Manuel took the small ax from the supply of tools and headed out to a patch of trees some five hundred yards away, to chop some extra firewood. Natasha decided to take advantage of the solitude and look in on Nate and Douglas.

Lying in the middle of the pile of sleeping bags and blankets, were the two people she felt were the very soul of her life. Douglas lay on his back with his eyes closed, the faint sound of snoring echoing from the broad expanse of his bare chest. Nate lay asleep beside him, the pajamas Natasha had dressed him in, and two diapers were hung up to dry on the small string she strung inside the tent for night use. On the sleeping bag beside him, lay a half-empty bottle of formula, its sticky contents dripping from the tiny hole in the rubber nipple to soak into the edge of his blanket, his tiny mouth sucking at an imaginary breast as he slept.

Natasha smiled and stepped quietly out of the tent, trying not to disturb them. It was strange to see the two of them like that, but what was stranger was the feeling swelling within her heart. She felt proud and sad all at once. She suddenly felt left out of the scene, yet she knew she was being silly and tried to push the depressing thought aside.

"Can I help?" Natasha asked Teresa, hoping to ignore the eruption of emotions inside her. Teresa smiled softly and nodded, handing her a can of stew and a can opener.

"You love him, si?" the young Mexican woman asked, aware of the looks the two shared when they thought no one else was watching.

Natasha stared blankly at the woman and frowned. How could she possibly love Douglas, she hadn't known him long enough to feel anything for him, except the passion and desire he deliberately created. Wasn't that what she was just contemplating a few minutes ago? Granted, she enjoyed being with him and she found it difficult to concentrate whenever he wasn't around, and when he was around she found it impossible to breathe much less think straight. She longed for his touch and craved his smile, hungered for his kisses as though she were starving. She could feel his arms holding her even when he wasn't near her, and she felt lonely and depressed when he was nowhere to be found. She worried about him constantly, thought about him without even realizing it half the time and…

Good, God! She was in love with him.

"Are you okay?" Teresa asked, capturing the can from Natasha's grip before it fell to the ground.

"I'm not sure," she answered softly. "Tell me something, Teresa. What does it feel like to love someone?"

Teresa smiled brightly, pouring the can of stew into the large pot, setting it on a rock in the middle of the fire pit to cook.

"Si, I thought so. He's a good man, no?"

"Yes, too good I think."

"No, he is not too good, he is just good and very attractive."

"Huh?" Natasha asked, unable to understand the woman's Spanish.

"It means attractive," a voice said behind her.

Natasha turned and saw the tall frame of Douglas standing outside the tent's opening, his large arms wrapped securely around Nate, who looked around at the world with interest. She blushed profusely at the look on the man's face, certain he had just heard everything they had been talking about. Teresa chuckled and said something in Spanish to Douglas, who replied in the same language, their tones filled with amusement and pleasure, which caused Natasha to feel even more uncomfortable.

"Well, hello there," Henry said, as he and Manuel joined them, bringing a halt to Natasha's embarrassment.

"How's the work coming along?" Douglas asked stepping closer to the men and the food cooking across the fire.

"It's coming along just fine, but we could use some help. Feel like giving us a hand after lunch?"

"I'd love to, just let me check on my patient first."

"Is he still asleep?" Manuel asked, glancing at the truck sitting in the shade of the buildings, unable to see in the bed.

"I don't know. I was just going to check on him." Douglas handed the infant to Natasha with a warm smile. "Tell your mama to change your diaper. I've done enough for one day."

"Poor baby," Natasha purred, taking Nate from Douglas's secure arms, irritation and embarrassment etching her delicate tone. "Did you have to put up with that mean man's crude talents?"

"Watch it, woman," Douglas growled seductively. "I may just have to show you how crude my talents are."

That comment brought another blush to Natasha's delicate features and a joyful laugh from Henry and Manuel.

Douglas walked to the truck, his lips curled into a content smile as he chuckled under his breath. Teasing Natasha was a nice change of pace, he felt relaxed and happy knowing he could do so without fear of her running away. Now that he knew the secret of her innocence, perhaps he could win her confidence as well as introduce her to the world of passionate lovemaking. He knew it was wrong to hunger for this young girl, knew beyond a doubt he had no right to take her innocence from her, yet found the idea of another man one day doing it, unbearable. Natasha had saved herself all these years, saved what she considered a curse, for the right man to show her how special a gift she truly had, but was Douglas that man? Did he have the right to make love to her, to make her his own when she had no idea what it was she wanted for herself, beyond finding her brother?

With a heavy sigh, he climbed up into the back of the truck. He'd given up trying to deny his feelings for her. He'd tried to stay away from her, cursed himself when he couldn't, and knew he'd never be able to deny the need and desire to love her when they were alone again. If it hadn't been for Jacob's attack on the camp last night, he'd have taken her in their tent. Her soft body had yielded to him, her arms had pulled him closer and her desires had found a way of making her surrender without actually giving in. She admitted to being afraid of him, he knew she still was, to a point, but then he was frightened himself. It had been many years since he'd made love to a virgin, and back then he was too inexperienced himself to really know how to take his time

Pushing aside the nagging twitch of stealing something so precious from such a naive young woman, he began examining Jacob’s unconscious body. His pulse was steady, and his respiration and temperature appeared normal under the circumstances. The shade kept him out of the hot sun and the sedative administered several hours ago continued to do its magic, rendering the man harmless. He reached into the locked compartment under the back window and removed the leather pouch, preparing another syringe, hoping he wouldn't need it but decided he'd rather be safe than sorry. Assuring the man was resting as comfortable as possible in the back of his truck, Douglas climbed down and locked the box again.

"How is he?" Natasha asked stepping up to his side.

Douglas frowned looking at the beautiful young woman. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he hadn't realized she'd joined him until she spoke.

"What?"

"Jacob? Is he alright."

She glanced over the edge of the pick-up at the sleeping man then back to Douglas.

"Sorry, I had my mind on other things. He's fine, he's still out and from the looks of it he won't be much bother for a while yet."

"Good," she said briefly then drew a deep breath to continue as they turned and walked back to the fire pit. "Douglas, I've been thinking. You said you wished you had someplace you could put Jacob where he wouldn't cause any harm. How about the jail? It's in pretty good shape, according to Henry, and there's a key if we can get it out of the cell."

"I don't know if I like the idea of locking him in jail just to keep control over him. It's not his fault he's going through this."

"Then whose fault is it?" Natasha snapped suddenly. "Nobody put a gun to his head and forced him to become an alcoholic. Nobody ordered him to abuse his wife and children or gamble away their entire lives."

"Take it easy, Sweetheart," Douglas said reaching out and taking hold of her arm, stopping her short of joining the gathering group for lunch. "It honestly isn't his fault. Alcoholism is a disease, once you start it's hard to stop. I don’t know why he started drinking, maybe it was stress, maybe it was peer pressure, who knows for sure. But once a person starts, it becomes a crutch and soon becomes a habit. That habit turns from a couple of beers after work to a case or two on the weekends, and then a few drinks with breakfast, and pretty soon that’s all the person can think about. It’s a serious problem and sobering up is a hard path to take.”

“So, you’re saying it isn’t worth trying?”

“No, I’m saying we need to be patient and try to support him while his body is detoxing. Locking him away may not be the best thing. If we put him behind bars, in his delusion he’ll think he’s in jail, and that can be as frightening as being left alone. It’s not unheard of for an addict to kill themselves trying to escape their prison. Right now, I don’t want to have to bury the man because he made a few wrong choices in his past.”

“Look, it was just an idea. If you don’t like it, then don’t use it, but stop lecturing me on what addicts are like. I know first handed what people are like when they try to sober up and how easy it is to fall back into the bottle.”

“What are you hiding, Natasha?” Douglas asked with a frown. “You’re not here simply to look for your brother, are you? There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

“So, now you’re a psychic? Stick to healing the drunks, Douglas, and leave the head shrinking to the cannibals. I’m not one of your hopeless cases in need of curing.”

She turned and stormed away, leaving the man to stare after her with a curious frown. He had struck a sore nerve, that he was sure of, but what was she hiding and why, and how could he help her while he was trying to rebuild a town and dry out a drunk? Suddenly, Piccadilly had become more than a ghost town, it had become a home for what ailed the weak and weary.

Perhaps by the time this project was over, sanity would find a small corner to set up shop, but for now, there was only confusion and frustration filling the cracks of the old buildings. But was it enough to hold the walls together, or would they come crumbling down like a house of cards, trapping the souls of all who stood beneath them, under a layer of despair and fear?

"What would it take to get the jail ready to use?" Douglas asked after a very tense lunch.

Natasha tried to ignore his question by taking Nate and walking in the direction of the saloon but was forced to stop and face the man when he took hold of her arm.

"I'm sorry, Natasha," he told her with reluctance.

Apologizing didn't come easy for him, so he avoided making mistakes that would cause him to feel regret. This time, however, it was more than regret he felt, but he just couldn't find the right word to describe the sorrow for having hurt her.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Sweetheart, and I didn't mean to start another argument. I suppose I'm still too tired to think straight."

"I'm sorry too," Natasha replied with a reluctance equal to his own. "I'm new at all of this. I've never been asked for my opinion, so I've never tried to offer it. I've always had my advice thrown back in my face whenever I volunteered, so I stopped giving it. It's usually stupid suggestions anyway."

"Once all of this is over, we're going to have a very long discussion and get things straightened out between us, and I'm going to change your opinion of yourself. Until then, we still have the matter of Jacob to deal with. He's going to be coming around soon and I don't want him loose in the town when he does. What would we have to do to get the jail ready for him?"

"About all, we really can do is clean it. It needs windows and a new roof, but according to Henry, it'll hold up for now. Whoever the last person was to leave the town, locked the keys in the cell as a joke. We'll have to get them out, so we can get into it."

"I'll get Henry to help me with the keys and we'll see if we can't patch the roof temporarily if you and the others can start cleaning it. We'll have to make up two beds. Until Jacob's in a more stable mood, I can't leave him alone."

"You won't sleep in the cell with him, will you?"

Concern echoed in her voice and worry etched her delicate features, causing Douglas to smile wickedly.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart, he's not my type."

Natasha blushed as she opened her mouth to respond but couldn't find the words to cuss him out with. Douglas chuckled and pulled her against the hard wall of chest muscles. It felt like a breath of Spring air to joke with her again, even though it was nearly October.

"If it will make you feel any better, I'll sleep outside the cell, far enough away so he can't strangle me in my sleep."

He kissed her soft lips with a desire only she inspired in him, then released her abruptly.

"We have work to do," he insisted with deep accented tones. "We'll save this for another time."

"I'll put it on your account," she teased lightly, frustration beginning to swell up within her neglected soul.

"As I seem to recall, I still have a blank check of yours," he told her tweaking her chin gently before he turned to leave. "I'll put it on your account instead."

Natasha watched Douglas walk away with a feeling of need burning like white-hot coals inside her. She knew as well as he did, there was going to come a time when he would use his blank check and make her pay him for his patience. The problem was, did she really want to repay him? Douglas had called her virginity a gift, perhaps once she offered him that gift, he'd walk away and never look back. After all, any gift could be exchanged and returned, even if the price to pay was a broken heart.