From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 6 Dec 2002 10:50:49 -0000
Subject: Three Crosses by TCS1121
Source: direct

Reply To: TCS1121@hotmail.com


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Title:  Three Crosses
Author:  TCS1121
Feedback:  TCS1121@hotmail.com
URL:  http://www.angelfire.com/scifi2/xfilesfanfic/ff.html
URL for Three Crosses is: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi2/
xfilesfanfic/ThreeCrosses.txt
Category: Guilty Pleasure AU, MSR
Rating: R
Archive:  As You Wish
Disclaimer:  Characters recognizable as X-Files characters 
are owned by 1013 and Fox
Authors Note:  Written as a response to a challenge at 
the Haven.  This is my Guilty Pleasure.  Throwing 
tomatoes at the author is not permitted.  

Elements of the challenge listed at the end.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Summary:  From the desert heat and from the heat of anger, 
two souls find their destiny.

~~*~~*~~*~~

F. W. Mulder picked up a ladle, and stirred the thick, bubbling 
liquid.  The ranch cook went into the kitchen tent, and came 
out with a big pot of coffee, and two loaves of black bread. 
In the dim evening light, brown sludge burbled in the deep 
cast iron pot, and pieces of unknown animals rose to the 
surface and sank again. 

"Old man Spender goes on a "buying trip" to San Diego last 
month," the cook ranted.  "Packing his dice, cards, and pearl 
handled revolver, and returns with a wife young 
enough to be his daughter."  Melvin wiped the corner of his 
mouth with his dirty sleeve.  "It just ain't fair."

"Mel, it wasn't meant to be.  Even if you'd gotten the chance 
to toss the dice across the table from Spender, you're luck's 
not as good as his," F.W. said grinning.  "She'd never have 
gone home with you."  The cook glared before turning to grab 
two coffee mugs off the table behind him.

F.W. was tall, lean, and copper-skinned from the relentless 
sun.  His bright eyes crinkled, as he smiled and shook his 
head.  In leather chaps and denim jeans, his light blue cotton 
shirt was unbuttoned, falling open at his chest. He'd rolled 
his shirt- sleeves above the elbow, innocently exposing scars 
created by skirmishes he'd lost with barbed wire, cactus 
needles, and mustang broncos. A warm desert breeze ruffled 
his sun-lightened hair. 

"You think that's how he got her?" Melvin asked.  "Won her 
in a poker game?"

F.W. shrugged, and stirred the pot, trying to decide whether 
he was really hungry enough to eat what was in there.

"You've seen her, and you know what I'm talking about."  
The cook said, as he grabbed the heavy ladle from F.W.'s 
hand.  "She's as pretty as a cactus flower, and hot as the 
desert floor at noon.  She talks nice to me.  Spender 
doesn't deserve her."  

"Yeah, I did see her once," he said, looking toward the 
big house.  "Spender doesn't let her out much."

"Prob'ly the sun.  I swear, F.W., her skin's so light, she'd 
sunburn in a heartbeat."  He sighed.  "She sure is pretty."  

"Like a cactus flower, so you said.  I'll have to keep a lookout 
for her," he said, making the decision, and picking up a 
spoon.  "Seems like you've seen her more than anybody 
else has.  But remember, my friend, she's the bosses wife."

"Yeah, yeah."  Melvin spat on the ground, then splashed a 
dipper of the brown mess into a bowl.  F.W. tore a big 
chunk from one of the loaves, and put it on top of the brown 
stuff.  Taking the tin mug filled with strong, thick coffee, 
F.W. winked at the cook, and ambled away.  Far out of 
sight of the bunkhouse, where the ranch hands and cowboys 
called home, he came to a dark corner between the large, 
flat rocks in the high ground of the desert.     

Every night, he sat on the rocky ground looking down at 
the back of the big house.  Sometimes it took a while, so 
he ate while he waited.

F.W. Mulder was accustomed to the hot, dry, desert air, 
but knew that Spender's wife was not. The Arizona territory 
was a world away from her San Diego home, and each night, 
when F.W. caught a glimpse of her, she looked sadder, 
and smaller than before.  He knew that she waited for the 
sun to set, and the temperature to drop before sneaking out 
of her huge timber frame home. 

'I wonder what she's wearing tonight,' he thought as he 
squinted through the heavy twilight, and trained his eyes 
on the house.  

The back door opened a crack.  F.W. saw a brief line of 
light as the door opened and shut quickly.  He put his 
dinner bowl in his lap, and held his breath.

She was delicate, but not fragile.  Her mane of red hair 
was piled loosely on the top of her head, but some wavy 
red tendrils curled around her shoulders and down her back.  
She walked lithely into the cooling desert, the same warm 
breeze lifting the crinolines and silks, baring her ankles 
and calves.  

Every time he saw her, he was sure she couldn't be real, 
that if he reached out to touch her, she'd melt away, or 
turn into shadows.  And he thought that very same thing 
ever since she arrived at the Three Crosses Ranch, 
because he'd watched her every night from 
this spot in the desert.

F.W. sat still, pressing his back up against the rocks as 
far away from the full moonlight as possible.  Kate 
Spender looked up into the night sky, spread her arms, and 
breathed the desert air deep into her lungs.

'She is magnificent,' he thought, as the moonlight beamed 
off the white sleeves of her outstretched arms.  He didn't 
blink as she unbuttoned her shoes, and took them off.  
Reaching her hands high above the hem of her skirts, 
he saw the pale skin of her thighs as she unhooked 
the garters, and released her stockings.  She leaned against 
the doorframe, rolled her stockings off one at a time, 
and tucked them into her shoes. She tested the ground with 
her bare foot, and sighed as she wriggled her toes in the 
coarse sand.  She held onto her shoes with one hand, and 
gathered the layers of her skirt's soft fabric with the other.  

"Kate!"  A gravelly voice called.  "Kate, are you out here?" 

She froze, and both shoes fell to the ground.  One 
high-buttoned shoe rolled under a row of low-growing chaparral, 
and she went down on all fours to retrieve it. 

"What did I tell you, Kate?"  Spender's voice boomed.  "What 
are you doing outside?"

"Nothing, husband.  I just came out to get some air."  Even 
from this distance, F.W. heard her voice tremble.

"You've gone out again?  After I told you not to?"  Spender's 
body blotted the light coming from the house.  He took three 
long strides toward her, and yanked her up by her elbow.  
"What's this?   Taking your shoes off, and going outside 
without asking me?  Are you expecting company?"  He 
turned his head side to side.

"No, husband, I swear!  There's nobody here, I--I don't even 
know anyone else.  My shoes--my shoes had sand in them, 
so I took them off."

"And your stockings, too?  What if one of the ranch hands 
saw you stocking-less!  That is unacceptable for any woman, 
and certainly unacceptable for my wife!"  He removed his 
belt with the large silver and turquoise buckle.

"I'm sorry, husband.  I'm sorry--Cedrick." She scrambled to 
put her bare feet into the shoes.

"Children play in the sand.  If you're going to act like a child, 
I'm going to have to treat you like one."  Cedrick Spender 
grasped the delicate silk fabric around her neck and tore 
the blouse away--pearl buttons bouncing on the sandy ground.

F.W. jumped up, spilling the hot meat muck down under his 
chaps and into his blue jeans.

It took F.W. a split instant to understand what was happening, 
for the blows came sudden and fast.  Glued to his patch of 
sand, wedged between two large, flat-topped rocks, he 
watched with glazed eyes as his employer used his belt 
buckle to lash the soft skin off the back and shoulders of 
his pretty, young wife.

Xxxxxxxx

Juana Montoya opened the heavy oak door to the big house.

"Buenos dias, Senor Fox."  She looked tired, but politely 
stepped aside.

"Morning, Juanita."  He said, as he slipped by her.  Juana 
smiled at the use of the diminutive for her name.  She was in 
her fifth decade of life, and well over 200 pounds. 

F.W. saw Spender leave the Three Crosses before dawn.  
It was Langly's job to make the deliveries to the big house, 
but it wasn't unusual for F.W. to show up with a variety of 
barrels, boxes and crates.  

Langly's last job was "Ringo," the rodeo clown.  But he 
ended up scaring so many of the children, that he was 
forced into what he called 'ranch servitude.'  It wasn't difficult 
for F.W. to bribe him out of the delivery job this morning, 
especially since one of the crates was especially heavy.

"Gosh, Juana, that coffee smells good," F.W. said as he 
placed the biggest crate in the front parlor.  He put the smaller 
boxes in the large pantry off the main kitchen.  "If you pour 
me a cup," he leaned down, and smiled boyishly, "I'll put 
whatever is in here away for you."  

"Senor Fox, if you put all this away for me, I will make 
you a big breakfast of huevos rancheros!"  She lowered her 
voice.  "Senor Spender will not be home until late 
tomorrow night, so he will not catch you eating in his 
kitchen."

"And what about Mrs. Spender?" he asked casually.  
"Would she mind finding one of the ranch hands in her 
kitchen?"

Juana pressed her fingers to her lips, and her dark 
eyes clouded over.  Juana did not like her employer, 
but F.W. knew she had a good job, and didn't want to 
jeopardize it by talking out of school.

"Senora Spender is not feeling well.  She is sleeping."  She 
turned away.  "I sent the rest of the house staff home, 
since Senor is away."

"All right," he said with a fake smile.  "I'd really like that 
breakfast then.  It'll probably take a while to get this done, 
so I'll just go ahead and start here."  He started popping 
nails out of the lid of the big crate.  

Juana paused, and looked at F.W. seriously for a moment.  
He waited for her to say something, but she sighed sadly, 
and walked into the kitchen.

F.W. bounded up the steps two at a time, and stopped 
on the upper landing.  He'd been upstairs in the big house 
once before, and glanced up and down the long hallways, 
remembering the layout.  The huge master bedroom was 
at the end of the right corridor, and took up most of the 
upstairs living space.  The large windows, filtered with 
white gauze gave the master bedroom a bright panoramic 
view of the desert.  When the sun got too fierce, heavier 
material could be rolled down to cut the glare and 
heat.  Smaller rooms were to the left, where the guest 
rooms and Spender's office were housed.

He turned left and walked down the corridor, away from 
the master bedroom, gently opening the door to the guest 
room at the far end of the hallway.  

Juana had cracked the window open, but drawn the heavy 
drapes.  The dresser and windowsills were lined with 
eucalyptus leaves, cloves, iodine, and aloe stems.  The scent 
of menthol and camphor mingled in the dim, stuffy room.  
Everywhere he looked he saw home remedies: a clove of 
garlic, a piece of hemp, bundles of herbs, a burning candle, a 
bottle of whisky, a bible.  No one had called a doctor.

Curled up in the double bed, a small, pale figure moaned 
softly.  She was covered lightly with a rumpled cotton sheet, 
and there were bloodstained towels beneath her shoulders.  
F.W. took a step closer and saw sweat glistening on her 
face, dripping down her neck and chest, as she trembled 
in little starts and stops.

"Christ, what did he do to you?" he whispered.  Taking 
the basin of water, and a cloth from the dresser, he knelt 
at the edge of her bed.  The water was lukewarm, but he 
dipped the cloth, wrung it out, and patted her face and neck.  
She stirred, and opened her eyes a crack.  

Her eyes went wide, and she recoiled, then hissed in pain.

"Shh--shh--Don't be afraid."  He pressed the cloth to her 
hot cheek.  "I'm going to help you."

"He did this to her."  Juana's voice shook from the 
doorway, and her eyes were wet.  "He beat her, and 
beat her.  After she fell to the floor, too weak to get up, 
all he said was, 'I'll be back tomorrow night.  No doctor.'"   

Juana went to the whimpering woman.  Kate's eyes were 
shut, but she reached out one arm.  Juana took her hand, 
and said, "Senora Spender, do not be afraid. This is Senor Fox.  
I know him, and he is a good man.  If he says he will help 
you, he will help you." 

"I swear it."  He turned to Juana.  "How bad is it?"

Juana shook her head, and whispered to Kate, "I am sorry, 
missus, I will have to move you."

Kate opened her eyes, looked at them, and nodded.  

It was difficult to tell whether it was the belt buckle, or 
the leather strap that had done the most damage.  Her 
back and shoulders bore the brunt of her husband's rage, but 
her neck and upper arms didn't escape his belt.  The beating 
must have continued long after she was dragged into the 
house. The lash had torn into the skin over and over, and 
chewed out pieces of the flesh beneath.  The damage was 
ghastly.  If she lived through this, her back would display t
he memory of these injuries forever.  The wounds 
were inflamed, and infection had set in during the night. 

F.W.'s eyes filled, as he helped Juana gently turn Kate 
Spender onto her side.  Every touch made her gasp, but 
instead of crying out, she said, "Thank you, Mister Fox," 
and tried to smile.

He blinked.  "I will help you."  Tears dropped down his 
cheeks. "I swear it."

Xxxxxxxx       
 
Jonathan Byers, MD, distrusted the upper class. With his 
tall frame, and conservative dress, he could pass as one of 
them, but F.W. knew this soft-spoken physician was mildly 
paranoid, and highly suspicious of people who hired others 
to do their work for them.  

Byers's paranoia would work to F.W.'s advantage, because 
Dr. Byers spoke to very few people socially.  F.W. Mulder 
was one of the exceptions.  They were from the same New 
England city.  Boston.

"Where are we going?  What will I need?"  Byers asked, 
as he packed his black doctor's satchel.

"To the Three Crosses Ranch.  And take everything you've 
got.  It's bad."  F.W. paced in the moonlight.  He'd waited 
until after dark to bring the doctor back to the ranch.  The 
ranch foreman was loyal to Spender, and if a doctor were 
seen entering the big house while the master wasn't home, 
then Big Walt Skinner just might report it to him. 

"What happened?" Byers shouted.

"He beat her for walking barefoot in the sand."  F.W. 
pulled rolls of linen bandages, and half-filled brown 
and green bottles off the shelves and stuffed them into 
his saddlebags.

"Slow down, Fox."

"We can't slow down!  I'll pay you whatever you want, 
but we've got to go right now!"

The doctor grabbed the ranch hand by the arm; causing 
F.W. to drop the cotton batting he was packing.  He looked 
up at Byers, angrily at first, then his face fell.     

"He beat her, Jon," he said softly.  "He beat her, and now 
she's dying." 

Xxxxxxxxx

Melvin handed a steaming bowl of chili to Big Walt.  It 
was peppered, and seasoned fire hot, the way Walt liked it.  
Then Mel produced another pint of dark ale from inside the 
cook's tent.  The foreman was happily occupied, while 
Langly guarded the back door.  Within a very short time, 
the cook, the ex-rodeo clown, and the physician became 
partners with a purpose. 

F.W. and Dr. Byers slipped into the back of the house.  
Juana hadn't left her mistress's bedside all day, fighting 
a losing battle against fever and infection.  

"I have been washing her with cool water all day, but 
she gets hotter and hotter, Senor Medico."  Juana's chin 
quivered, as she ran a gentle hand down Kate's cheek.  Kate 
opened her eyes halfway and began mumbling into the pillow.   

Byers examined the delirious, young woman, trying not to 
jostle her too much.   

"Fine, Juana, you've done fine.  Can you help me roll 
bandages?"  Byers asked softly.  He turned to F.W., trying 
to swallow his rage by briefly closing his eyes.

F.W. picked up the sponge, and began a valiant attempt to 
cool Kate off.  

"Mrs. Spender?  Hey,--Kate," he whispered.  She opened 
one fevered eye.

"Remember, Kate?  Remember I promised you I'd help?  
I brought Dr. Byers here.  He's going to make you better.  
It'll be all right."  He ran the sponge over her forehead.  
"You're going to be all right."  He flinched when his fingertips 
smoothed her sweat-soaked hair away from her face.

"Jon, she's burning up."  He swallowed thickly.  

"I know she is.  What kind of barbarian is Spender, 
anyway?  How could anyone do something like this?"  
Byers shook his head, and faced F.W.  "The infected wounds 
caused the high fever.  If we don't get her temperature 
down soon, she will die."  

"No."  He shook his head.  "That can't happen."

"We need to get the fever down first, and then treat 
the infection.  We need to get her into some cool water.  
Is there a bathtub where we can submerge her?"

Juana said, "No, Senor Spender sent for a bathtub for 
Senora Kate, but it is not here.  It is expected soon."  

F.W. stood up.  "Those crates I brought in this 
morning."  He turned to Juana.  "Is one of them the 
bathtub?"

Juana stood, and looked up at him.  "Si!  It could be.  
Senor Spender wanted it near the kitchen, for heating 
the water." 

F.W. knelt at the bedside, his face inches from her 
pillow.  "Hold on, Kate.  Please--hold on."  To his 
surprise, Kate's warm hand reached up and touched his 
cheek.  Her eyes flickered open briefly, before her 
arm dropped to the bed.

As he stood, the doctor asked, "Fox, how long have 
you known Mrs. Spender?"

"I just met her today," he said rushing out of the room.

Xxxxxxxxx  

After the war with Mexico, and after the Gadsden 
Purchase was made a few years later in 
1853, all of Arizona had become part of the United 
States. 

Now, in 1866, copper and gold had been discovered 
in Arizona, and stagecoaches made their way in and 
out in a constant stream.  The Native American's were 
systematically being robbed of their land, and the Apache 
and Navajo nations were putting up a fight with the settlers 
over it.  These battles distracted the rest of the territory 
from the War Between the States, which was currently 
being fought in the East.

Men came to the West to seek their fortunes as adventurers, 
farmers, businessmen, builders, and prospectors.  But 
Fox William Mulder came searching for his destiny.  He 
just didn't know it at the time.

Life in Boston was comfortable, but shallow.  His 
mother pretended to be the grande dame of arts and 
letters to her quilting club, and Mr. Mulder pretended 
to be the good husband and caring father to his drinking 
buddies.  Both parents failed miserably in real 
life, but excelled in their fantasies.
 
"Life is real here," F.W. had said to Melvin once, after a 
long day.

"Yeah, real hot, real sweaty, and real smelly."  He spat 
a small, brown blob of tobacco into the fire.  "Eat your 
stew."

The ranch cook, ranch hand, and ranch clown had finally 
finished setting up the heavy cast iron bathtub in the 
empty pantry.  As Juana replenished pot after pot of cool 
well water, filling the claw-footed tub, F.W. tried not to 
be afraid.


His search had ended; he'd found his destiny, but she 
was one floor above him, holding on to life by a hot, 
silver thread. 

Xxxxxxxxx

"Gently, Fox, gently."  The doctor unfolded two long 
lengths of calico and linen, and four large towels, and 
laid them out on the kitchen table.  A poultice was 
brewing on the stove.

F.W. cradled Kate's sheet-covered body close, as he 
carefully stepped down the long staircase.  Her eyes 
were closed, but her body was tense in his arms. 

"Even in the winter, the sun shines almost every day."  
He spoke softly into her hair, as he took one slow step 
down after another.  "We have more than three hundred 
days of sunshine a year.  And the desert, Kate, I love the 
desert.  It looks alive, like a beautiful, living creature, when 
the sun angles down on it in the spring.  I want you 
to see it, Kate.  I want to show it to you."

The bathtub was half full and prepared to receive 
F.W.'s precious cargo.  He held her shoulders and 
supported her head, while Langly took her legs.  Together, 
they lifted her over the lip of the tub, and into the cool water.  

"What did that bastard do to her?"  Melvin whispered 
fiercely.  "Jesus, she's torn to ribbons."   

"We can take it from here."  Byers eyed the cook, and 
the two ranch hands.

Melvin and Langly turned to leave, but F.W. shook 
his head.

"I'm staying."

"I'm sorry, Fox, but it isn't proper.  Mrs. Spender is 
a married woman, and Juana and I will have to completely 
undress her to make her as cool as possible.  Then we'll 
have to apply the balm to her bare body to kill the infection."

"I'm staying."

"Fox," he said sternly.

"Stay," a small voice said.

Kate's eyes were open, and all eyes turned to her.

"Please."  She repeated, looking blearily at Fox.  "Let him 
stay." 

He knelt down at the head of the tub, looked at her, and 
smiled.  "Don't worry.  I'm not going anywhere."

Byers sighed, but held his tongue.  Juana carefully unwrapped 
the sheet that was modestly covering Kate from chest to toes.  
The cloth stuck to the open wounds, and Juana slowly swished 
the sheet until the fabric floated away. 

"I am so sorry, Senora.  I try not to hurt you."

Kate nodded with her eyes tight shut.  Tears appeared at the 
corners of her lids, and she bit down on her lip.  F.W. reached 
into the cool water, and took her hand.  Finally, the sheet 
billowed in the water above her naked body, and Juana 
scooped it away.  

Kate squeezed his hand, and F.W. kept his eyes focused 
on her face, and not let them wander lower than her chin.  
He cupped water in his free hand, and dripped it onto her 
face.  She inhaled, and exhaled, slowly opening her eyes 
to look at him.  

"Thank-you, Mr. Fox," she whispered, then shut them again.  
He let go of her hand, and felt her hot cheek.

"Keep talking to her, Fox," Byers said, as he stirred some 
linseed oil into the concoction heating in the big pot on the 
wood stove.

"What are you cooking?"  Talking was a good idea.  
If he kept talking, he had a chance of keeping his eyes where 
they belonged.

"Dr. Joseph Lister found a way of fighting infection, and 
I have the recipe.  Talk to our patient, and see if you can 
get her to take little sips of water.  After her fever breaks, 
Juana and I will apply this putty to her back and we'll take 
the calico and linen, and wrap it in place."

F.W. looked down at the patient, and lost the battle with his 
eyes.  She *was* magnificent, he confirmed.  Even ill, her 
beauty was breathtaking, ethereal.  With her eyes gently shut, 
her arms floated weightlessly out by her side, and her legs parted 
and closed, as the water swooshed around them.  The tips of 
her breasts broke the surface of the water, and he had to stifle 
the urge to softly kiss each one.  

"Kate?" he asked hoarsely.  He had been sitting on the floor 
for hours, propping her head up, while Juana baled out the warm, 
and poured in the cool water.  He cleared his throat, and tried 
again.  "Kate, can you hear me?  Please talk to me."  He took 
her hand again.  This time, she closed her fingers and nodded.  
Her eyes opened, and she began to shiver.

"Jon!  What's happening?"  F.W. tried to keep his voice calm.  
Kate was shivering in earnest, and it was painful to watch.  
Each movement caused her poor skin to stretch, and 
she cried out in little gasps.  He looked up at Byers, ready 
to yell at him to do something.  

The doctor sighed a small smile, and said with relief, "The 
fever's breaking.  Thank God."  He turned to Juana.  "We'll 
have to get ready.  In a little while, her fever will be down, 
and we can start.  You know what to do?"

"Si, doctor."  She handed F.W. a clean sheet.  "Senor Fox, 
will you hold Senora while we put on the medicine?"

"Of course."

Kate was alert, and shivering quietly in the tub.  

"Mrs. Spender," Jon said.  "You fever has broken, and 
now we're going to take you out of the water.  Juana and I 
will wrap your wounds with an antiseptic, and Fox will hold 
you while we do.  It will sting."

She nodded, then held her arms out to F.W. 

F.W. looked to Byers.  When the doctor nodded, he 
quickly lifted her out. He settled her into his lap, carefully 
wrapping the dry sheet around her, leaving her 
back exposed.  Her body trembled as he hugged her close, 
and Juana carefully dried her off with the towels.  
Her skin was warm, but the fever's heat had already begun 
to dissipate.   

"I know what you've done for me, and the risks you've taken," 
she said, trembling into his ear.  "And I can't begin to 
repay you." 

'I'll give you my whole lifetime to try,' he thought.  But instead 
he said, "You don't have to repay me, just get well." 

Xxxxxxxxxxx

After Juana and Byers applied the antiseptic, F.W. held 
Kate in his lap, her head against his chest, and his chin 
brushing the top of her head.  Juana went upstairs, stripped 
the moist and bloody sheets off the bed, and replaced them 
with clean, white cotton.  She opened the curtains and the 
windows, now that the sun was setting, and took away all 
the smelly home remedies.  

Kate took several sips of water, and grew sleepy.  F.W. 
carried her upstairs, tucking her lightly into bed.  She slept 
soundly, wearing layers of calico to cover the carbolic acid 
and linseed oil ointment, beneath her sheer cotton gown.  
  
As evening fell, Juana became agitated.  She turned to 
Byers, "Gracias, Doctor Byers.  Thank you for saving Senora 
Kate's life, but Senor Spender will be 
home soon.  He said no doctor."  She faced the others.  
"So, please, thank you, but you must all leave."

The tub had been washed out, and the kitchen cleaned.  
All signs that a life-saving procedure occurred were erased.  

Byers turned to go, then said to Juana.  "You did a good 
job tonight, Juana.  If you ever leave the Three Crosses, 
you can come work with me."  Juana's mocha skin blushed 
pink as Byers said.  "I'll keep in touch with Fox about our 
patient.  And Fox will keep in touch with you."

"Gracias, Doctor.  Gracias.  Now go!"

F.W. shook his hand warmly.  "Thanks, Jon.  I owe 
you."   

"Be very, very careful about this, Fox.  You're on 
dangerous ground, here."  Byers stepped outside, and off 
the porch.  Langly was mounted, and had the doctor's horse 
ready for him.  Byers stepped into the stirrup, and swung 
into the saddle. They nodded, and rode toward town.

"You must go, too, Senor Fox," Juana said, as she wiped 
her hands of the hem of her apron.  

"I will.  I'll check on her one last time, and then leave.  
I promise."  He climbed the stairs, and turned left. 

He knocked softly on the door before opening it.  Kate 
lay sleeping on her right side, with her back facing the 
open window.  Tip-toeing over to the bed, F.W. felt her cool 
forehead.  When he stroked her cheek, she opened her eyes.  

"It's been a long couple of days," he whispered.

"I meant what I said," she said softly.  "I know I can 
never repay you, but, please, let me try."  She held out her 
hand.  He clasped it, knelt by her bed, and kissed her palm 
tenderly.  

"Kate, you can't stay here.  You could have died."  He 
tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear.  "You 
almost did." 

"I know."  Her eyes shone in the moonlight.  "I 
married Spender, because I was the good daughter; doing 
what my father bade me.  He said he knew what was best 
for me, but he was wrong.  I need to follow my heart."  
She cupped his chin.  "My heart knows what's best for me."

He closed his eyes, and caught his breath.  When he opened 
them, she was gazing warmly at him. 

"I don't know if being with me is what's best for you, Kate, 
but it's better than staying with him.  It's not fair for me to 
ask right now, and it may be the worse decision you'll ever 
make."  He moved close, and whispered into her ear.  "But,"
he hesitated, then looked steadily into her eyes.  "Come 
away with me, Kate.  Let me care for you.  Let me love you."  

He knew how crazy it sounded, and he blushed wildly 
before daring to look at her again.  Her lips were parted, 
and she stared at him, her wide blue eyes glittering in the 
soft light.  She began to nod silently, as the big front door 
slammed opened downstairs.  He heard Juana's nervous 
voice greet the master of the house.

"Good evening, Senor."

"Well?  How is she?" Cedric Spender's voice 
boomed.

"She--uh--she is much better, Senor.  Much 
better."

"Well, see that?  All that caterwauling you did, and 
she'd going to be just fine.  Now where is she?"

"She has been very tired since you left, and she is 
asleep.  Please, Senor, can I get you something to eat?"

"What is this?  Who put this in here?"     

F.W. knew Spender was talking about the tub in the 
kitchen pantry.  He squeezed Kate's hand and said, 
"I'll be right back."  She gripped his hand, and shook her 
head.  He touched her lips with his, smiled, and gently 
pulled away.

He walked down the hall, planning to go downstairs 
and confront the bastard.   As he got to the top of the 
stairs, another baritone answered.

"I did, sir.  The tub arrived yesterday, and I had it 
installed immediately.  Does it meet with your approval?" 

"Oh, you did it?  That's all right, then."  Spender 
chuckled.  "Hiring you was one of the best things I've 
ever done, Walt.  You're always on top of things; looking 
out for my interests."  

Spender turned, hung his hat on the rack beside the 
door, and added, "The missus is a little under the weather 
right now, but I'm sure she'll appreciate your efforts.  I 
bought the tub as present for her, you know."  Spender 
lowered his voice.  "I can probably persuade her to show 
*you* a little appreciation when she's feeling better.  She's 
spirited, but I've got her under a tight rein."  He chuckled 
again.  "Besides, I like to keep the good help happy.  You 
do like her, don't you?  And she *is* a pretty little thing."

"Yes sir, she is."  The initial shot was deafening, followed 
by one or two short ricochets.  F.W. ran to the doorway 
and saw Big Walt Skinner leaning over Spender's fallen 
body.  For good measure, Walt placed the muzzle of his 
revolver up against Spender's gray silk cravat.  "Your wife 
is not a 'thing,'" he said, and pulled the trigger again.

"Why?"  F.W. asked, stunned.

"I saw what he did to her.  You aren't the only one 
who watched her in the desert at night."  Walt holstered 
his revolver, and explained.

"Tonight, I waited at the train station until he arrived, 
and followed him back.  I thought I might have to take 
Spender down on the way home, when we passed Langly 
and the doctor riding towards town.  I waited in the dark, 
stalking him like an animal.  But I wanted to wait until he 
got into the light. I wanted him to see that it was my gun 
shooting him down.  I pretended to be loyal to that 
bastard because it served my needs."  He shrugged.  
"But you have to draw the line somewhere."

"What happens now?"  F.W. asked.

"When she's well enough to travel, take her far away 
from here.  Cedrick Spender made enemies in high places, 
and as his wife, she's in danger from them.  Go further west, 
to California, or south, into Mexico."

"I have lots of family in Mexico," Juana said suddenly.  
She must have seen the whole thing.  "They will keep 
you safe, Senor Fox."

"You both will have to change your names and identities, 
because you are ultimately going to be blamed."  He gestured 
to the bloody body on the floor.  "I don't want it to fall 
on you, so I'll do all I can to protect you both.  Spender 
had enemies, but he also had some powerful friends.  
I've been around a while, so I'm not going to be a suspect. 
I can help you from here."

"We can't do this to her, Walt."  

"There's no choice, Fox.  Besides, you knew what you 
were coming down the stairs to do."  Walt looked 
F.W. in the eye as he spoke.  "I just pulled the trigger 
first."

He nodded.  "But, I'll go.  I'll take the blame, and she 
stays here.  This is her home and property; she's a rich 
woman now, and had nothing to do with that."  He 
pointed to the body.  "You can protect her, Walt."  
F.W. turned to the door.

"I'm coming with you."  Kate said from the top of the 
staircase.  F.W. looked up and saw determination flare 
in her eyes.  And something else.  A softer emotion.  

"Kate, no.  I have to leave, but you don't."  

"I'm coming with you," she repeated.  She slowly 
descended the stairs, gripping the handrail, one shaky 
step at a time.  Juana took a step up, but F.W. was 
faster, meeting Kate on the stairs, and taking her by the 
arm.  

"Do you have any idea of what you're doing?" he asked.

"Mr. Fox, I know you have reason to question my 
sanity, considering who I married."  She looked down 
disdainfully.  "But I know what I'm doing.  I want to 
go with you--if you'll have me."  A worried look 
crossed her face.

"My God.  If I'll have you?  My God."  He leaned down, 
and kissed her on the third step.  "You're everything I want.  
I didn't know it until yesterday, but I know it now.  Are you 
sure?"

"I have never been more certain of anything."  She stepped 
onto the floor.  

"We'll be on the run.  People will think we're criminals."  

"I've been searching my whole life."  She took his hand, 
"And I didn't know for what, until I met you.  You've 
been searching, too, haven't you?"

He nodded.

"Then we don't have a choice," she said simply.  

"No, no, we don't."  He cupped her cheek with one 
hand, the back of her head with the other, and kissed 
her soundly.

"During the next few days, while Mrs. Spender 
recuperates," Walt said to Juana,  "We'll 
make arrangements.  Nobody will miss Spender 
for a while, but eventually, I'll have to come up with 
a plausible explanation for his absence."  He stopped, and 
looked at the two searchers that destiny had placed together, 
and sighed.

"Juana, contact your relatives.  Tell them that a young couple 
will be needing their help."

"Si, Senor Walt, I will.  What should I tell them?  That they 
are Mr. and Mrs. Fox?"    

"No, they'll have to blend in.  Kate will have to change her 
name and dye her hair.  And Fox--"  F.W. who had been 
caressing Kate gently with his hands and lips.  "Fox will 
have to change his name.  Or at least translate it." 

"Bueno, it will be done.  I will tell them to expect, and make 
welcome, Katherine Del San Diego and Guillermo El Zorro."

XxxxxxxxX  

END 
(Or is the adventure just beginning?)
~~*~~*~~*

Elements you must include: 
 
-A voyeur or an act of being voyeuristic  
-A search (for something, someone, or a telling of 
a search -in honor of all the people 
searching for fic  ) 
-A fear of clowns 
-A stalker (again can be of something, someone or 
a telling of a stalker - in honor of the stalkers 
of course  )

My Guilty Pleasures are:

MulderCaring for Scully
Mulder in leather chaps
Love at first Sight
Destiny; that two souls are meant to be
Big Walt to the rescue

My New Guilty Pleasure:

Mulder in a black cape and mask

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