Leaving the railway depot in Tucson, Ben Wade paused to consider the landscape before him. The city had grown since his last visit. It seemed more prosperous, more advanced. Across from the depot was a wide park with tall, thin evergreens that waved sedately in response to the wind. In the center of the park, he noted, was a tall fountain of pale stone that could be marble. All along the roads that edged the park, new buildings gleamed and new warehouses bustled as people went by on foot, in wagons and on streetcars.

All this progress, he knew, was courtesy of the very railroad that he and his gang robbed whenever the chance and need came to them.

Congress Road stretched along to his right; he'd been told by some of the 'gentlemen' in the poker game that Congress Hotel was the proper location for a man of means. Thanks to how successfully they lost to his way of playing cards, Wade and his men were 'of means' on this fine day, so he led the way toward the impressive hotel of red brick walls and terracotta tile roof.

Their rooms were bright with the light that slanted though open shutters and gauzy curtains. Each room held two beds, their thick posters supporting sumptuous canopies. From his window, Ben could see Sentinel Peak rising majestically in the distance.

For dinner, they chose the hotel's own dining room. Anyone observing this large group of men would have taken note of their freshly scrubbed faces and the clean clothes Wade had insisted each man sport in such an establishment.

But after dinner, when they visited the notorious Barrio Libre section, just south of downtown, what people took note of was a group of men with a distinct aura of danger. Men you'd not try to hustle or rob. Wade and his men fanned out, taking advantage of free-flowing drink and whores to get the trip's pent-up energy out.

Morning found them hung over, sated and ready to ride at Ben's side. 

They headed southeast, following the trail to Benson before veering off slightly southwest. That night, their campsite was nudged up against the rise of foothills of the Dragoons.

"Boss, we make Redemption sometime about midday, y'reckon?" Charlie asked, his voice soft as wood crackled on the fire they'd built to keep warm and keep predators at bay.

"That's about right," Wade said. He was leaning back against a log, his hat over his eyes, resting but not ready to crawl into his bedroll.

"What're the plans when we get there?"

"Why, I'll be making for the saloon. Don't know about you boys, but I expect I'll be mighty thirsty after that long ride."

The men looked at each other as Ben offered nothing else from beneath his hat at first. They were uneasy. 

When no one said anything else, Ben flicked his hat up until he could gaze into the fire. And then: "He'll know we're there soon enough. But first, we do better getting the lay of the town from people we know how to talk with."

"What about your cousin? Y'think he'll..."

"He'll know we're there."

"Yeah, but..."

"You follow my lead - as always. Any problems with that?"

"No, Boss. No problems."

True to his word, when they made the town of Redemption, riding in past its red wood shops and dusty boardwalks, they rode without any sense of hurry. People stopped what they were doing, staring at the group of trail-dirty riders.

"Looks like this ain't the friendly town we were expecting," Ben said softly to Charlie, who rode next to him.

"Smaller than I expected," Charlie muttered. A moment later, he perked up, nodding off to the left. "Jail, Boss..."

"I see it. Smile at the nice people of Redemption, boys," Wade said, tipping his hat in the direction of people watching them as they rode on. 

Women's twittering voices suddenly drifted to them on the hard breeze of the desert town. Looking up, they saw a group of them, lounging on the second floor balcony of the building they were approaching. Had to be the town's whores waiting on customers coming to the saloon on the ground floor. When the women waved down, Ben waved back, giving them a charming smile full of promise. This seemed the place to start their reconnaissance of the town.

They tied their horses to the posts in front of the building, smacked off some of the dust on their pants and vests. Gazing all around as he stretched out the kinks, Ben Wade was mentally cataloging everything he could about the town.

Redemption was still rebuilding, it appeared to him. There was a large pile of rubble at one end of the main drag, just beyond a fountain with the remains of candles lining its ledges. Gaping holes between some of the buildings were further evidence of destruction of older buildings. Buildings that stood along one side of the street opposite the saloon were obviously made of newly hewn lumber or adobe.

So Cort Wade had become the force that led this town back from the brink of destruction? Interesting. He hadn't realized his cousin had that in him. He'd always seemed too weak, too unfocused to be a leader.

"Shall we take ourselves out of this cruel day, gentlemen?" Ben asked, pitching his voice just loud enough for the obviously listening townsfolk dawdling nearby along the little stretch of boardwalk before them.

The group of men followed their leader up the wooden stairs, laughing amongst themselves, amused at the discomfort their appearance in town was causing among the "good people" of Redemption.

Just as he made the top step and began striding across the boardwalk to enter the saloon, Ben Wade nearly collided with a pretty young woman with a well-turned ankle. He'd expected her to move away, like the other residents of this town had done as the group of men neared. But she stood as if transfixed, staring at him. He took in her proper little hat perched at the proper little angle atop her golden red, demurely-styled hair. He noted her mauve dress, fitted to dramatize her figure without being in any way vulgar.

He stopped in front of her, looking down into her upturned face. He tipped his hat and bowed with a flourish. "Ma'am," he said softly, sedately. "May I treat you to a sarsaparilla? Unless you'd prefer something...harder?"

His words brought Mattie Silk out of her daze with a start. Her blush was so pretty. It started at the base of her throat and then raced up to her cheeks. Ben smiled more broadly at the reaction, his eyes crinkling appealingly.

"No, thank you," Mattie said, stuttering slightly to get the words out. She swallowed deeply and tried to take a step back. But something in his stance held her in place. "If you'd kindly let me pass, sir..."

"Wasn't aware I was standing in your way, ma'am." Ben stepped back, gesturing for her to proceed before him. "Pretty little thing like you, I'd sooner cut off an arm than cause you any delay from your errands this fine day."

Mattie took a hesitant step as he held her eye. This was ridiculous. She looked down at her feet, willing them to simply move on. What was wrong with her? Just because he looked so much like Cort ... just because they'd all been anxiously waiting for the notorious Ben Wade and now here he was ... what was she doing acting like some babe in arms needing her mother to pull her along and out of the way of danger?

She flashed him a look from beneath her lashes as she moved now, firmly stepping out of the line of fire from his devilish charms that seemed to call to the girl she thought she no longer was.

Men chuckled behind her as she turned away and headed down the way she'd been coming when she'd stopped to watch as the group had ridden into town. She caught a few snickers before hearing Ben Wade chide his men for their rude behavior to "a fine lady" and it was surprising to her that his words made her chest swell with pride and awareness at his compliment.

A few minutes later, she stepped into the cool inner sanctum that was the Sheriff's Office. Cort stood at the window, gazing out, his tight jaw giving away the fact he knew the Wade Gang was now in Redemption.

"They're in the saloon," she said softly.

"I'll walk you to your shop if you're scared, Mattie."

"Aren't you going to do something?"

"Like what?"

"Go there...to the saloon. Get them to..."

"Get them to what, Mattie?" he asked, now looking at her over his shoulder. Her color was high. She looked flustered. Her eyes dropped from his, unable to hold his open gaze.

She shrugged her shoulders. "We all thought..."

"They have violated no law that I know of here in Redemption. Do you know differently?"

"No, Cort. I just..."

"Mattie, I appreciate your concern. But I'm the law here now. That means I have to abide by it in doing my duties." His voice softened when she glanced up and he thought he saw wetness rimming her eyes. He hadn't meant to take his tension out on Mattie. He strode over to her, putting his hands on her arms and squeezing lightly. "Don't you worry about a thing, Mattie. With any luck, they'll get bored and ride out tomorrow. But until they make any kind of move, we all have to just be calm and not give them any reason to cause trouble."

"Promise me you'll be careful."

He smiled when she finally looked up and held his gaze. "You promise me the same thing?"

She nodded.

"That's good. Now, if you'd just give me one of your beautiful smiles, I think I'd be set for the day."

"Oh, Cort," she said, her voice almost a sigh.

"You've got the loveliest way of blushing, Miss Mattie."

If he'd only kiss her, right then ... just a small kiss if that's all he could give her. But instead, he ushered her out of his office and she could do nothing but walk down the boardwalk toward her little dress shop.

He hadn't missed any of it. But then Ben Wade made it his business never to turn his back on anything. It was why he was still here after the life he'd lived. It wasn't just watching for the quick draws and the little rats who'd hand you over for the price of a few dollars. A man had to keep his eyes open all the time and never stop thinking. It was his brain not his fists that kept him on the top of the dung heap.

With a bottle of rye and a cigar, Wade had taken up a position by the window where a few of his men were playing cards. He shook his head when they asked if he wanted them to deal him in, raising his chin in the direction of one of the bar girls as an excuse. The girl had been waiting for a sign and scuttled over, preening herself that he'd picked her out of the others. Wade had barely even noticed her other than she looked docile and wasn't too fat. If she was going to sit awhile on his knee then he wanted to make sure he could still walk afterwards.

"Ben Wade. Now what would your name be, darlin'?" he whispered huskily as he pulled her against him, breathing her perfume and rolling his eyes suggestively. The girl smiled and cooed softly, "Pearl..."

Wade chuckled softly. "Pearl, is it? Now how did you get a pretty name like that? It ain't on account of that little pearl between your thighs, huh?"

Pearl giggled and swatted his arm playfully. "You being frisky, Mr. Wade?"

"I sure am, Miss Pearl. You're making it real hard..." he paused for effect and rocked himself against her softly. "...real hard...for a man to keep his wits about him..."

He kissed her, rather more tenderly than she was used to, ran his hand under her skirts playfully and then sat back in the chair while she poured him a measure of whiskey and he watched the play. "You couldn't go find me a plate of something to eat?  A man needs to keep his strength up..." He poked a coin down the front of her dress, burying it deep between her ample bosoms. "Go see what that buys you, darlin' while I wait here and finish my smoke...then maybe we could take a snack upstairs...?"

Pearl jumped up. "Room nine....give me fifteen and I'll get you a juicy steak, Mr. Wade..."

"Ben, darlin'. Yeah, juicy...I'm in the mood for some juicy meat..." he enunciated the words slowly and laughed as she shivered at his implication. She was nicely warmed up for later, he thought to himself. Then he returned his gaze to the dirty window and its view on the street outside where his attention had mostly been focused during his interlude with the girl.

He saw Cort standing outside his office with the young lady he'd met earlier on. Ben hadn't seen his cousin in years and would barely have recognised him had it not been for the singular similarity that they had always shared. People back then had always been asking if Cort was his little brother. It had not endeared him to the boy, mostly because he suspected he was. Her husband had died young, leaving Martha a grieving widow who still managed to give birth to a son ten months after the funeral. His father Jasper had been very attentive to his poor sister-in-law throughout. It didn't take a genius to work that one out.

Cort had filled out substantially from the stringy youth of sixteen with his gangly limbs, over-angular jaw and that shock of hair always falling into his eyes. But then that was the Wade streak for you; they were all big men, broad shouldered and good looking. Cort seemed taller than Wade remembered but that could have been a trick of the light. He was standing with the delicate little lady and had that stance of a man who walks tall, even if he isn't. He still had the hair, a girlish affectation when he was young; now it seemed to give him a wild, untamed edge. Wade imagined women went for that. They always had some damn-fooled notion or other about what they found appealing in a man, as if a big cock wasn't what they were really after, except they wouldn't likely admit it.

The way Cort was with the girl showed Wade that there was something going on there. Or at least that both would like for something to go on. He could also see that Cort was behaving stiffly, overly formal, the way a man is when he wants to impress a woman but not to alarm her. That story about him finding Jesus must be true. Looked like he'd lost his dick in the process.

The woman was a reformed whore, he judged, with his usual acutely accurate assessment of people. She might be putting on fancy airs and graces but he knew as soon as he looked at a woman. Or rather as soon as they looked at him. You could see it in their eyes when they knew the score and had been down that road many times before.

Wade licked his lips and drew deep on the cigar. There was an awkward moment when Cort seemed to be contemplating something else - a kiss perhaps or a visit to her private rooms? But he took his leave, watched her make her way to her little dress shop and then he paced up and down the boardwalk a few times before crossing the street. Only then did he raise his eyes to give Wade a clear look at him for the first time. And he saw something that made him smile. Cort was unsettled.

The best way to keep your enemy.

Moments later, the saloon doors parted and Cort stepped inside, standing in the shadow to survey the interior. From the corner of his eye, he immediately noted the presence of several members of the Wade gang over to his right near the window, and in their midst the figure of his cousin, swinging back on his chair with the usual ridicule on on his face, a cigar jammed in the corner of his mouth. Ahead at the bar were a few other suspicious looking characters, the kind of bad hat that Cort knew well. They were with girls and well on their way to drunkenness, but he wasn't going to underestimate them. These men were always half cut, but none the less deadly for that.

He strode forward, ignoring the hush and the air of expectancy that descended on the crowded room. Everyone was waiting to see what the Marshal was going to do. He rarely came in the bar so this had to be about the Wades. But, Cort just ambled over to the bar top, slid onto a stool and ordered a drink. "Big crowd in tonight?" Cort asked Horace, who looked uneasy and mumbled something incoherent in reply as Cort turned round and leaned back on the bar. He caught Wade's eye; the two men stared at each other.

Resting his glass back on the bar, the Marshal moved forward, the atmosphere charged like just before a storm. A few people stepped away, girls hung over the balustrade from upstairs to get a better look; all eyes were on the two of them.

"Long time..." Cort began.

"Sure is..." Wade countered.

"Not long enough..."

"Now, that ain't exactly brotherly..."

"We're not brothers..."

At that Wade merely smiled knowingly before answering: "Well, only old Martha rightly knows the answer to that little mystery - and she took it to her grave..."

Cort's eyes flickered momentarily. He hadn't known his mother was dead. Maybe she wasn't. Who could tell with Wade?

"I'm not playing with you, Ben. I expect you and your boys to ride out tomorrow morning. This town's got nothing for you. I've got nothing for you. Whatever brought you here, it was a waste of time..."

"It's a free country. We ain't breaking any laws. No warrant on us in Arizona..."

Cort said nothing for a moment, looking around at the other members of the gang who were listening in, primed for action if this should heat up. "Hand in your guns. No weapons in the town limits."

"That go for you, too, Marshal? You gonna hang up your pieces? Not sure I feel entirely safe with a gun slinger of your reputation walking round carrying. Man's got a right to protect himself. It's in the Constitution..." Wade reminded him smartly. His men laughed. Cort remained impassive.

"I'm the law. I keep the peace. Long as you're orderly, then you've nothing to worry about. On the table...one at a time..." Cort repeated.

He was one man against at least eight. If they said no, then either Cort backed off and lost or he had to draw. It looked like a mistake. Even he couldn't take this many on.

But to the surprise of everyone in the room - including Cort himself, who knew he had miscalculated, pushing too hard where he could so easily have played it cool, letting the older man goad him just as he had years before - Wade stood up, unclasped his gun belt and threw it onto the table. "If you say so, Marshal. No one here's looking for trouble..." He nodded over to his men to do the same. They followed suit even if they thought he had lost the advantage. But he hadn't. Wade had just won the first round. His smile of victory made that quite clear.

"Fill a basket..." Cort shouted over to Horace who scrambled to do his bidding and then ran over to the jail with the guns. "Much obliged. Enjoy your evening, boys...be on your way tomorrow, y'hear? First light..." He fixed Wade a meaningful glare and turned for the door.

"Hear John Herod passed....what was it? Lovers' fight?" Wade threw out. A titter of mocking laughter ran round the room. Cort's back stiffened but he carried on walking. Wade observed him as he headed straight for his office and slammed the door hard behind him.

Almost on his heels, Wade made his way out of the saloon, but his destination was in the opposite direction - the little dress shop on the other side of the street. Running his hands through his hair and straightening his collar, he pushed on the door.

Mattie was in the back, pouring herself a small measure of brandy and downing it in one, as she heard the tinkle of the shop doorbell. Smoothing down her dress, wondering if maybe Cort had decided to come see her after all, she dashed forward to check her reflection in the mirror. It was after hours. This couldn't be a customer.

"Anybody home?" 

She heard the soft low voice. It sounded like Cort - but somehow different. 

"Just a moment," she replied before licking her lips and then going through into her shop. 

And stopping dead when she realized who was waiting there for her. It was Ben Wade, the leader of the gang who had just ridden into town, the man she had begged Cort to get rid of. The man who had made her feel so awkward when he had met her in the street earlier. Her eyes went to the door, assessing her chances of escape. He followed them with his own, a knowing look on his face as if to say that she had no chance.

Mattie looked him straight in the eye. He was so like Cort - and yet so different. It was hard to take her eyes off him. He was thicker set, older, his face more rugged, his eyes more steely. His hair was shorter and he was unshaven. But he could still be Cort's brother, they were so alike. "I'm sorry, we're closed..." she announced tartly.

Wade's eyes danced in amusement. "That so? You couldn't just make an exception for me, could you? I just got into town. There's this little lady who caught my eye and I want to buy her a trinket to show the depth of my affection. Surely you wouldn't drive a man away when he was trying to woo his true love?"

Mattie knew Wade was teasing but she had to admit that he had a certain charm. And his face had softened as he said it. He had an adorable smile. Beautiful eyes. Not as good as Cort but...

"I know who you are, Ben Wade, and I'm not falling for any line you spin..." she answered, trying to stay focused.

"Well, you sure know my name, but that's no secret anyhow.  May I respectfully inquire yours?"

Mattie pouted. "Mattie. But you can call me Mrs. Matilda Silk." She never used the name Herod. She refused to call herself by the name of the man who had gunned his own son down. 

Wade grinned. "What have I done? Someone been putting a bad word around about me? I'm feeling a lot of hostility here today. The Marshal just took my gun and all but ran me out of town. Not sure what I'm supposed to have done to you people. Me and my boys are just passing through. We're heading for New Mexico. Looking for work. Got us a contract on one of those big ranches down there...Something wrong in a man stopping a few days after a long dirty ride?"

All the while he had been talking, Wade had been wandering about, fingering ribbons and running the soft drape of the display fabrics over his hands sensually, smoothing his palm across the velvet dress on a mannequin, lingering over the curve of the breast. Mattie could not take her eyes of his large rough hands and the unusually gentle way they stroked and caressed the material while his deep voice mimicked his action as it soothingly caressed her ears.

"You're the Wade gang! Everyone knows what that means," she spluttered out, forcing her mind away from the seductive spell of his tone.

Wade looked over and shrugged almost bashfully. "Never gonna live that one down, am I? Times were hard. Man's gotta live the best he can. What else we expected to do when the railroad comes through? Hard to tell who's the real bad men then. They come and buy your land for shit, throw you out of your home, break your Momma's heart - and then call us the thieves just 'cause we try taking some of our own back?"

Mattie knew that story well enough. Maybe Wade was trying to start all over again just like Cort had done. He might regret the reckless behavior of his youth now that he was getting older. Many men settled down eventually and turned to a law abiding life. She found herself listening and beginning to wonder if he wasn't a decent man after all. She had sure known worse.

"It's what people said. We got scared. We're only just getting back on our feet. This town used to be real lawless until Cort showed up and brought justice back..."

"Cort? You mean my ole cousin Cort Wade? Now there's one mean son of a bitch, if ever I met one. The Wades weren't tough enough for him. He rode off with the baddest man of all. Name of John Herod...you might say he was Herod's animal...metaphorically speakin', of course..."

Mattie frowned. Cort had killed John Herod. Herod had tormented Cort. She knew that there had been bad blood between them but what Wade was saying surprised her. Cort used to be one of Herod's gang? Was it true? Were Cort and Wade related? It would sure explain the likeness.

"Cort's a God-fearing man. He used to be a preacher.  He hated John Herod..."

Wade shook his head sadly. "So he turned on his old boss in the end, huh? Took the town for himself? Never thought he had the brains. He must be a Wade after all..."

"No, it wasn't like that!" Mattie defended the object of her affections. "He saved us all. He's not after the town..."

"No? Herod was the last Marshal? He stopped anyone carrying a gun without his leave? Ran any other outfit out of town the way they came in? And now we have Cort. The Marshal. Who won't let me carry a gun. And insists we leave tomorrow morning...? Sounds like he runs this town to me, sweetheart. Looks like he took a few lessons from his old master.  But that's okay. Live and let live, I say. And I'm a God fearing man, too. We was all raised right. Church every Sunday, singing the hymns out loud in our best clothes... Read the Bible, cover to cover. Who d'ya think taught Cort about Jesus?"

Everything Wade said made sense but in a sort of upside down fashion, turning everything she'd thought so far on its head. Cort did make all the decisions in the town. Nothing happened without his say so. He was as powerful as Herod - except he was a good man. No one died. There was no bullying of ordinary folk. He even made it clear men were to treat the girls in the bar decently. That was the difference.

"He's a good man. Herod was a bad man. It's not the same..." she claimed weakly.

Wade stepped closer and she found herself taking a pace back. His proximity was affecting her. 

"Looks like the Marshal got him a little supporter here. You and he got an understanding? You doing more for the good preacher man than holding his Bible on a Sunday morning?" His words were mocking but he said them in a way that was lighthearted, even flirtatious.

"What's it to you, if we are?" she retorted sharply, hiding her consternation at the way his eyes swept down her body and his nose seemed to brush her hair as he came closer, inhaling her fragrance and sighing softly.

"It might just break my heart, darlin'. Seeing as I came in here to ask you to dinner and maybe buy something for you to wear in your hair..." he plucked a dark emerald satin ribbon from a stand nearby and draped it against her red gold curls. "My Lord, you were born to wear that color ...and to lie in sheets of silk..." he murmured.

Mattie blushed. Green was her favorite color. His eyes were green. She couldn't help but smile. "Stop your fool talk! You only just laid eyes on me!"

"You don't believe in love at first sight? Shame on you...! So you and my cousin then. You spoken for? Because if you're his girl, then I will take my leave right here and now. But if you're free, I would dearly love to ask you to dinner tonight. Seeing as how it's my last night in town and I may never get the chance again..."

Mattie chewed thoughtfully on her lip. She couldn't claim to be Cort's girl seeing as he had never shown her much sign that he was interested even though she had been all but throwing herself at him for months.  And what harm was it to go to dinner with a man? Ben Wade seemed very different from the impression she had earlier formed of a mindless killer and a gang of brutal men. He was charming and honest and a pretty speaker. She got the impression there was no love lost between him and Cort, but who knew the whole story? Cort had walked on the wild side himself in his time and must have done a lot of things that were just as bad - if not worse - than Ben Wade had done. What harm could it do?

It might just make Cort sit up and take notice as well. Maybe he needed a gentle reminder that she was attractive to men and that she wasn't about to spend her whole life waiting on one who couldn't make up his mind.

"We're just friends. He knew my husband. I was widowed a while back. Since then he's taken care of me but...it's not like you think. There's nothing between us..."

Ben smiled a glorious open smile that charmed her so much she entirely missed the fact that it was a smile of victory, pure and simple. "Then I'll go smarten myself up as befits a gentleman dining out with a fine lady. And this is for the ribbon..." he tossed her a coin. "Wear it for me tonight? Seven thirty. I'll be waiting outside to walk you over...Until then..." Wade bowed his head and picked up her hand, giving it a soft kiss. Then he replaced his hat and sauntered towards the door, letting it close behind him with a jaunty slam.

Out in the street, Wade looked up at the late afternoon sky. Just enough time to go hunt the pearl.... 

A pale mauve sky was deepening into blue-black shocked through with magenta and peach clouds. Cort Wade studied it for what it could portend for the morning. Would it be peaceful, a welcome return to normal? Or would he and his rag-tag band of deputies be facing his cousin's gang of ruthless killers?

It would make perfect sense to no longer be concerned about the threat Ben Wade presented since his men's guns were safely locked inside the jail. But Cort had not gotten to this point in his life by expecting an evil man to change just because he pretended he had. Evil or weak, you had to expect a man to return to form, Cort thought to himself.

Guns or no guns, the Wade gang was a definite threat until he either got them out of this town or they killed him.

Redemption would never be safe otherwise.

Cort breathed in deeply, tasting the pungent odor of Redemption. It wasn't home but it was the closest he had to a home nowadays. 

Home.

The thought brought an uncomfortable twinge inside his chest. Cort's chin rose as he chose not to follow that train of thought. Instead, he pushed himself away from the railing where he'd been leaning, observing the comings and goings in the gathering night.

Looking to his right, he noticed the lights glowing brightly in Mattie Silk's shop and in her rooms above it. Curious, he thought. She didn't normally keep hours this late unless she was working hard to finish an order. He couldn't recall her mentioning such a thing.

Well, maybe he'd just mosey that way, check on her. Maybe she'd invite him in. Home-cooked meal in her little dining room with her near enough to reach out and kiss ...

Cort shook his head. Smiled down at the tips of his boots as he turned in Mattie's direction. Why was he taking such time and pains to feel his way into her arms? To slide into that first, deep kiss of sexual want?

The answer came to him with a cold start, as if he'd been a blind man suddenly granted sight.

He stopped as he looked up in the direction of Mattie's.

Seeing a familiar figure striding slowly across the road made Cort step back against the building next to him, taking up a position within the deep shadow there where he could observe but not be observed.

Ben?

Ben Wade, walking right up to Mattie's front door?

What was he up to? Should Cort run to head him off? Should he shout his cousin's name out, challenging him, stopping him?

But he did nothing. Something inside stopped him.

Even when Ben rapped sharply at Mattie's shop door. Even when she opened it, letting yellow-orange light spill out, showing Ben Wade all duded up, shaved, shined. Sex in the air. Even when Mattie's light giggles floated through the night air toward him. Even when she backed up into her shop, letting Ben Wade follow her in.

Mattie. Her name was a sigh he let slide down his spine.

He was still standing in the shadow, watching, as Ben Wade escorted Mattie Silk from her shop. They crossed the street. Ben's hand was placed on the small of her back. She leaned her head in toward him, giggling at something he was saying. Cort watched her fingers playing with her hair.

Just as they reached the cut-glass doors leading to the restaurant attached to the hotel, Mattie and Ben stopped, facing each other. She leaned in toward him, talking low and earnest. Ben looked around, as if searching for a particular witness to this scene. Mattie's fingers touched his cheek, drawing his attention back to her.

Cort looked up at the sky, cataloging the fading magenta clouds losing ground to neon cyan. When he finally looked back down to earth, Mattie and Ben were gone from sight.

But Cort still didn't move out of the shadow.

He was caught in the grip of a sudden, rude memory triggered by the touch, Mattie's fingers on Ben's shadowed cheek.

They'd returned just before the noon meal. Cort had heard the distant, indistinct disturbance in the gentle murmurs of his surroundings.

He'd been lulled by months of being the only man left at the compound. He'd let himself believe this respite could last. So when he heard the sounds of riders approaching, he dropped the reins of the plow, turning from the horse's wide flank toward the main house. He stood rooted there in the field he was preparing for planting. He watched the main house until the door opened cautiously and his aunt slowly stepped out onto the porch, her hand raised to shield her eyes from the harsh sun.

It was the confirmation he needed.

Couldn't be anyone but his uncle's gang, returning for the comfort of home.

He picked up the reins, called to the plow horse and prodded her to continue down the row. By the time he finished that row, the riders were in sight. He paused, watching them from his position on the slope of the hill that fronted the narrow dirt groove along the ridge across from him. His uncle, tall in the saddle, glancing up at him, a tip of the hat.

His cousin, riding next, a look of condescension on his dusty face.

Three men behind, watching as the two Wade men glanced up at the boy they'd left behind. Did they notice the gangly teenager's clothes were tighter than last they'd seen him? Did they see the growth spurt from where they watched him?

By the time Cort had the horse brushed down, watered, in the stall, the five men who'd ridden in were gathered around the table in his aunt's kitchen. She and his mother were hovering, refilling plates and bowls. The men ignored them except to accept their service. But when Cort entered, they turned as one to examine him as he stood, awkward and out of place suddenly in a house he knew intimately.

Except for his uncle's short greeting accompanied by slight smile, nothing else was said. His cousin stared at him, silent, an amused sneer on his lips. There was no room for Cort at the table. He took his plate out to the porch. Their voices carried clearly out to where he sat, hating them all.

He'd hoped they'd not return. Had really hoped for it.

This place choked him. Their voices weighed him down.

Leaving his plate on the ledge, he strode across the wide expanse between the house and the barn. He passed the corral now filled with their horses. At least they'd taken the time to water and feed them. Inside the barn, the air was cooler. Climbing into the loft, he sat on a bale, tossing the blade of his pocket knife against the rafter. Flick, flick, flick. Each toss sent the blade in further into the piece of wood it hit, over and over.

Within minutes, the gentle tossing of the knife turned into full thrusts, his shoulder rearing back so he could throw it with everything he had.

He never heard his uncle's ascension to the loft. It wasn't until he heard his name called out, loudly, over the thudding of the knife's blade into the rafter.

"What the hell you doing, boy?"

"Killing time."

"Looks like you wanna be killing my barn. What happened to your brain?"

Turning, he looked at his uncle, standing where sunlight shafted across his chest, throwing into relief the arms crossed there.

"I wanna ride next time." Cort faced his uncle, his chin rising.

"We'll see when time comes, son."

"No. Not good enough."

For a long moment, his uncle stared at him, the edge in his eyes sharpening. Then his soft voice said, "Not good enough? You think you're giving orders around here, son?"

"I'm not your son."

"Only man on this land who gives orders is me. You got that ... son?"

"But you'll consider it? I want your promise."

"I only take men who obey me, no questions. You think you can control that temper of yours and knuckle to my commands, Cort? Takes more'n that quick hand of your'n with a gun, boy; takes being able to aim it right, too. You smart enough to see what it's gonna take to be a man in this family? Or you still too wet behind the ears?"

"Take me with you and you'll find out kind of man I am. And what kinda shot - just maybe I'll surprise you for what I can do with a gun."

His uncle chuckled before turning to head down the ladder. Just before his head was out of sight, he looked up at Cort. "You got a streak in you, boy, scares me sometimes for your future. Just keep your nose clean. And don't make me beat that streak right outta you. You just may make the next ride, you show me you got something makes you worth taking a chance on."

Long after his uncle left him, Cort stood transfixed in the loft. Whatever else his mother had tried to teach him, she'd been wrong about this. She'd said he had to stand up to the man, show him he was no longer just some little kid. That he was now man enough to take his place in the family gang.

Hopping down the ladder, Cort ran from the barn, escaping out the back, knowing no one could see him as he headed up into the hills. Soon, he was winding his way through the brush, setting off for his secret place. The cave's entrance was disguised, well hidden behind fallen boulders. Before he went in, he tossed in a few large rocks to scare out any other animals taking shelter in there. When it was clear, he crawled in and forced his breathing to slow down.

He didn't mean to stay there as late as he did but he didn't relish returning home. When it was finally late enough that he knew the big family dinner would be over, he picked his way in the darkness until he stood before the back door of the house he shared with his mother. There was a light burning in the kitchen; his mother had no doubt left a plate warming for him. His stomach turned over with hunger at just the thought of food.

Letting himself in quietly so she wouldn't hear him and come down there to comfort him, he walked softly to the stove. There was a nice full plate, covered by one of the pans to keep the warmth in. Stewed chicken, roasted potatoes, corn - he savored the aromas as he carried the plate to the table, sat down and tore into the meal.

Only after he'd slowed down enough to pause and sip from his glass of water, did he hear it.

A soft scraping of a chair somewhere over his head.

His mother must be reading, sitting in the chair by her bed, waiting on him to come home, he thought. Another scrape of the chair. He smiled to himself at her impatience, annoyance.

Then her laughter reached him, soft and girlish.

The scraping became more frequent; he refused to hear the rhythm.

Not until he heard a man's chuckle.

His eyes shot to the ceiling.

Cort rose from his chair, walking slowly from the kitchen to the living room, his eyes focused on the ceiling as he moved. 

Now his mother's laughter had changed, becoming almost fearful, no longer a laugh but a cry, short before being strangled off.

The man said her name.

Martha, he said.

Cort was most of the way up the stairs by then. He stopped; for a moment, all he let himself hear was the unsteady heartbeat within his own chest.

Then he could no longer ignore the other noises. The chair's scraping was a steady, unambiguous rhythm. The man's voice was deep and unmistakable.

His mother called the man's name, her voice almost frantic.

When Cort moved again, it was to race up the rest of the stairs, tear down the short hallway to his mother's door, shove it open and march into the room.

He saw his mother's half-clothed back. She was straddling the man, who sat upon the chair, looking at him over his mother's naked shoulder.

Ben Wade's mouth was clamped over his mother's neck. His hands were under her dress. And he never once faltered in the rhythmic motion that was driving his filthy cock up into Cort's mother.

She ground obscenely down each time Ben thrust up.

Now Ben pulled his mouth from her neck and regarded Cort straight on. That amused look in his eyes couldn't hide the arousal of this confrontation.

Cort's mother seemed to only then understand someone else was in the room with them. Slowly, she turned, looking over her shoulder at her son, who stood flexing his hands in the middle of her bedroom.

Each time Ben pumped up into her, her eyes half closed even as she stared at her son.

Leave, she mouthed to Cort.

He couldn't seem to move.

Go away, she tried again, mouthing to him even as she rocked down atop Ben.

When he didn't move, she turned back to Ben, to where his eyes met hers as he whispered something only she could hear above the scraping chair.

Then, very deliberately, Ben turned to watch Cort, even as he picked up the pace and made the chair's scraping harsher to Cort's ears.

And this is when it happened.

His mother put the fingers of one hand on Ben's cheek, tugging his face over until he was looking at her again.

Then she kissed Ben.

 And Cort was backing out of the room, feeling cut off from the only parent he had - now an orphan in full. His mother was letting his cousin fuck her and did not even care her son was a witness. And the final coup de grâce was the way she put her hand on Ben's face, choosing to satisfy his lust over any loyalty she should have felt for her son.

"So, you and Cort are kinfolk? Real cousins?" Mattie asked as she and Ben dined in what passed for elegance in Redemption - there was at least a tablecloth, matching crockery and they ate with fork and knife.

Ben smiled over, resting down his fork and dabbing at his mouth politely before speaking. Mattie thought he had nice manners, an unexpected bonus. "Well yes, ma'am. He's my cousin. Allegedly." Ben raised his eyebrows complicitly.

"Allegedly? I don't get it. He either is or he ain't..."

To that Ben looked about him before lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I don't mean to be unseemly, but his Mama was married to a man named Jethro, you see. Her and my aunt were sisters. My aunt and uncle, my father's brother, took me in after my own parents died, raised me as their son. Cort's Mom was a lot younger than my aunt, awful pretty and a little bit wild, if you take my meaning? Anyhows, seeing as Cort was born eleven months after his Daddy passed away, there has always been a little doubt concerning his legal status. Fortunately his daddy had nothing to leave him, so it never got looked into..."

"So he's not really related to you. Then how come you look alike?" she asked, her curiosity now piqued.

Ben's eyes twinkled; he leaned even closer and whispered. "Well, seeing as my uncle was most likely his father that'd mean we share blood, and I guess you could almost call us brothers..."

Mattie's mouth fell open and she giggled at the revelation. "So your uncle was in the sheets with his sister-in-law? He must have been quite a fellow!"

Ben laughed. "Sure was. Still is for all I know. Wade men are not known for their self control where the ladies are concerned..." He flashed her the eye; she blushed and giggled some more. "Well, apart from Brother Cort, that is. He was always a quiet one. Prayed a lot. Asked God to cure him of his evil urges. But then, they say he liked the boys better...explains the long hair, huh?"

Mattie covered her mouth with her hand to hide her shock. Cort liked men? Maybe that was why he wouldn't do the girls in the saloon back then...She called to mind how he'd been with Ellen even. He had tried to stop her until she'd gone down on him. That's when he let her have it. That might just explain a lot about Cort Wade and his reluctance to take things further with her, too. Mattie was shocked. And disgusted. It wasn't natural. She hated perverts.

"Keep that to yourself, Mrs. Silk. It's only hearsay.  I wouldn't like to spread gossip and ruin a man's good name." Wade paused, sipping his glass of beer before continuing. "... May I ask you a personal question?"

Mattie nodded, wondering what he was going to say next. 

"You don't use your husband's name. Some reason for that?"

Mattie fumbled nervously with her hair, the appealing crimson blush deepening on her pale cheeks. Wade thought she was a pretty girl, attracted to her delicate beauty and slender girlish body. He liked that in a woman. There was something doubly appealing in the contrast of slim white flesh next to his bulk. He'd rarely met a woman who'd disagreed with him either - well, not many. And they'd still done if for him anyway. He wasn't generally one for forcing a lady - although there was a certain amusement when they cried and wriggled, his preference was more for seduction. There was nothing quite as satisfying as the thrill of the chase and the taking of purity. Underneath their skirts women were all the same when it came down to it, whatever airs and graces they assumed.

"My husband was John Herod's son, Fee. Well, never formally acknowledged but it was an open secret in this town. Much as I cared for my Fee, I'm not gonna call myself by the name of the man who gunned his own son down in the street."

Ben nodded sympathetically. "Herod? Now, that was one bad man. Young Cort had a worrying streak in him before, but that old bastard turned him. Never met anyone who was pure evil 'cept for John Herod. He made cousin Cort into his creature. In more ways than one. The kid was mixed up and easy meat...young fresh meat, as well..." Wade added, clearing his throat as he made the implication. Mattie's eyes flared. She got his meaning right away.

"Let's talk about something else," Ben said. "I didn't ask you here to spend the evening discussing other men and their secret vices." He ordered some pie and cream for them both and a pot of coffee.

"You never married, Ben? No special lady waiting for you somewhere?"

It was Ben's turn to blush, an unusually boyish expression passing over his face, his eyelashes lowered bashfully. Mattie noticed that they were long and thick. He'd father beautiful babies, she thought idly to herself. "There's been a few along the way who caught my eye, Mrs. Silk. I've had my hopes. But nothing came of them. Not many women'll put up with the life I live. Can't say I blame them, either. I never had much to offer a woman. It's not right to tie a woman to a man who can't give her a decent life. Way I see it is, a man's gotta provide for his wife and children. Not just money either. But a good home, security, safety. There's nothing secure in my life." he added sadly.

Mattie smiled over and let her hand drift across the table to rest on his large gnarled one. She covered it and squeezed softly. "Call me Mattie and I'll call you Ben. Maybe you just met the wrong girls? The way I see it is, a woman stands beside the man she loves and shares whatever the Good Lord sees fit to send them. I'd rather have a man in my bed who knew how to be a man then one who could just give me an easy life. There's more to life than comfort. That's my opinion anyway," she added, staring meaningfully at him.

This woman was aching for a man's body. She had all but asked him to take her right there and then.

But it wasn't in his plan. Not just yet anyway. "You're a good woman, Mattie. You shouldn't be alone. Life just never seems fair, does it? Here am I, ready for settling down but maybe I left it too late? I know I done wrong in the past, but I didn't have much choice. Times were hard. And young men think they'll live forever..." He smiled. "Or least ways, don't give a damn either way..."

Mattie nodded. "A man can change if he wants to, Ben. If he meets a woman worth changing for, that is..."

Cort sat by the window of his office all evening, watching the lights of the restaurant as if he might somehow read what was happening inside from the soft glow that they cast out on the street. He observed finally when Wade emerged, his arm linked in Mattie's as he guided her across the potholed street, keeping her from puddles or piles of stinking dung. They looked the very picture of a devoted couple already, talking and laughing quietly as they made their way along the boardwalk to her shop door.

Mattie would invite in him. Wade would push himself on her, just like he had done to his Ma. Like a snake he would wriggle his way into a woman's heart, promise her anything with his forked tongue, pretend he was going to be all things to her - and use her merely to get at him. And Mattie would do what all women did - even his own mother, the one who should have put him first.

She would choose Ben over him. They always did.

Memories of the past dripped like rain off a roof, leaking drop by drop. Half of them he thought he had forgotten, all the tiny hurts and wounds that had built up over the years until he had had enough and had turned his back on the Wades and all they stood for. He hadn't even used his own name ever since. It reminded him too much of Ben Wade and his mocking cruelty.

Cort had been a pretty child, his mother's little treasure. She had dressed him up the best she could and always kept his hair long, brushing it for him every night before bedtime, and telling him he was the handsomest little boy she had ever seen. He'd only been a child; he had thought then that all mothers were like this, unaware that for Martha Wade, he was the compensation for her loneliness without a man of her own. It was years before he realized that the other boys thought he was too girlish and made fun of him and his gentler ways. That's when it had begun, the relentless bullying that he had faced every time he left the house.

And it was his older cousin Ben Wade who led the pack who taunted him. Later he came to understand that Ben was probably jealous of the younger child; if Jasper was indeed his father then he could understand why. Jasper Wade had always been fond of his young 'nephew', kinder to him than he was to Ben, the boy he'd raised as his son. But it couldn't quite be excused as easily as that. Ben Wade was just a bully, plain and simple, who loved nothing better than finding someone's weakness and then picking away at it like a scab until it bled afresh. He seemed to thrive on pain and his uncanny ability to read a man's mind and know straight off what would unsettle him most.

Ben was his senior by ten years, a young man already when Cort had been a gangling youth. It had begun with the usual taunts of older boys, beatings and thrashings, the taking of his few possessions and the rest. But as Ben had become older it had taken a crueller turn still. The mocking jibes had become personal, attacking his self-esteem and manhood. It was hard enough to be a boy of fourteen in a world of hard men without the constant baiting he had endured. Cort had learnt to fight, began to win, showed an uncanny talent with a gun and hoped this would get Ben and his cronies off his back. But that had merely been the start.

Ben found new vulnerabilities. Cort had never had a girl. Ben somehow knew this. Constantly, he was laughed at for his inability to 'get it up' or his lack of 'prowess with the ladies'. It had got so bad that Cort let them bet him he couldn't do a whore. He'd taken up the challenge and gone with them to a cathouse. As nervous as he had been, Cort had been determined to go through with it, just to show them. He picked up a pretty little blonde with wispy curls and she'd taken him upstairs. He had been shy about his body and unsure exactly what to do. Eventually she had coaxed his pants off and they got started. He'd come straight off, even before he got in. That's when he'd heard it.

The laughing. Ben Wade had arranged it so he and his boys got a peep hole in the next room; they'd all been taking turns watching Cort's clumsy attempt to penetrate the girl and his premature orgasm. He still remembered that moment with a clammy sense of shame. For months he had had to endure the constant jibes and the nickname 'Quick Draw', which made them all hoot with laughter, rolling over on the floor in derision. It also put his development with girls back a few years. It was a long time before he dared to try it again. It had surrounded his early memories of sex with embarrassment and discomfort.

And that had been before he had witnessed Wade calmly fucking his own mother, the very picture of virile young man, so able to please a woman that she chose him over her own boy, and shamelessly carried on her debauchery, even flaunting it in her son's face.

Cort's hand went to wipe the cold sweat off his brow. It was ridiculous to let things that had happened years ago in his boyhood affect him now. He was a man; there had been many women since and he knew himself how to please a lady well enough. But those old memories still had the power to bite away at his confidence, bringing back old doubts and fears.

Ben and Mattie stopped at her door. Cort watched, standing now, hiding behind the curtain, unable to take his eyes off the scene. Mattie and Wade in a patch of moonlight on her stoop as they said goodnight. She said something to him and inclined her head; Cort guessed she had asked him in. Wade glanced upwards as if towards the bedroom above, paused as if giving it some thought and then shook his head. He leaned in and whispered something into Mattie's ear. She smiled back, a smile of pure joy. Then he kissed her tenderly, like a man does to a woman he respects. Wade stood back, tipped his hat and bid her goodnight, staying guard as she let herself in and then turning to saunter hands in pockets back along the walk.

As he passed the Marshall's office, Wade again tipped his hat. "Night, Coz... See you in the morning..."

Cort shrank back. Wade couldn't have seen him watching. Or did Ben have eyes everywhere, able to see deep into a man and all the dark things that lay hidden from sight? Somehow the knowledge that Wade was not seducing Mattie right before his eyes felt worse than if they had gone upstairs to bed together. Because Cort knew that what Ben was doing was what he had done to his mother - but even more calculating. He wasn't satisfied to simply boast the next day that: "I had your Mama's pearl last night ...She might be a used up old whore but she sure knows how to milk a man dry..." Ben Wade was planning to do worse than that. He was going to make Mattie fall in love with him and woo her right from under his feet. The ultimate victory.

His mind was too in turmoil to sleep. Much as he had done as a boy, he grabbed his gun belt and a box of bullets, took a bottle of whiskey from his drawer and rode out into the desert. Cort had to get away and think, shoot at the moon and get himself drunk until he could burn the image of Ben Wade from his eyes, shut his ears to his voices of derision - and try to work out where the hell he went to from here to rid himself of this man he hated so much. It was many years since Cort the Man had run away from anything. But tonight Cort the Man was someplace else.

Ben Wade had called up Cort the Boy again.