"Passing through. I'm taking the train to Galveston, and catching a steamer for South America. But when I realized the train would be stopping here, I thought I'd come and say goodbye."

"Oh. What's in South America?"

"A new life."

"You in trouble?" Johnny asked.

"No more trouble than usual. But I couldn't really just leave without seeing you, could I?"

Johnny met his eyes, then looked away, unable to hold his gaze. Elizabeth watched him with obvious concern, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to hide anything from her. She saw through him. She always had. If she didn't already suspect there was something going on, she would before Brody caught his train.

"How long are you staying?"

"Just until four."

"Four o'clock today?"

"That's when the next train is stopping. Got to be in Galveston by Sunday, or else I'll miss my boat. And I already bought my ticket."

"Are you hungry, Brody? We were just finishing up breakfast. I've still got plenty of food, though."

"I'd love some breakfast. Thanks."

Johnny didn't think he wanted to be alone with Brody, but a part of him was still glad Elizabeth made herself scarce. Which just gave him another reason to love her.

"I was going to try to talk you into joining me, but now I think it might be a waste of time. Got a nice place, a good woman. You want to show me around?"

Johnny swallowed. "You want the tour?"

"Sure."

Johnny downed the second shot he had poured for himself, his fingers tingling from the warm shock of the whiskey. His stomach calmed, and he felt his nerves hardening. Brody was the only person, man or woman, who could make Johnny nervous just by looking at him. Except, he wasn't just nervous. He could tell anybody else that Brody gave him a case of the nerves, but they both knew it was something else entirely.

"There isn't much to see," Johnny said, as he gestured Brody around the bar. "It's probably just like every other saloon you've ever been in."

"Not just like every other one. This is yours, after all."

And to Brody, that really did make a difference. His boots tapped against the floor, echoing in the big, empty room. That night, the whole place would be full of loud men, loud music, loud sex, and loud drinking. Johnny preferred it that way. He didn't like the saloon much during the day, when it was just him and Elizabeth and too much time to think.

"This is the storage cellar," Johnny said, opening the trap door that led to the area beneath the barn. "Nothing down there."

"Except the good stuff?"

"There's some good stuff."

"Show me."

Johnny wasn't surprised by the demand. Wasn't that why he had started the tour with something that would take him out of sight and hearing distance from Elizabeth? Still, he was a little surprised that Brody hadn't even hesitated. Maybe this was how he planned to say good-bye.

He grabbed the nearby lamp and lit it before stepping down the stairs. Brody followed, pulling the door shut behind them. Only a narrow circle of light illuminated the dark space, and Johnny could sense Brody, but he couldn't see him. Which meant he was vulnerable. Brody could and would strike at any time, and Johnny couldn't fend him off. Worse, Johnny wouldn't, even though Elizabeth was right upstairs, making the man breakfast.

"Did you ever tell her about us?" Brody asked, his voice fuller, richer somehow, in the darkness.

"No."

"She knows about the time up in Deadwood?"

"She knows."

"But you never told her you were there with me?"

"No."

"Is she a woman who needs to be protected from the truth?"

"No."

"Is she the kind of girl that needs to be protected from anything?"

"Not really, no."

"She's good. Just the sort I'd imagine for you."

"I don't need your approval."

"I never said you did."

"But you're going to give it to me, anyway, right?"

Brody put a firm hand on his shoulder and pushed him backward, until his back met a support beam. His skin was golden in the low light, and he floated in front of Johnny like a ghost. It all came rushing back, memory after memory washing over him. The Oriental didn't exist. Elizabeth didn't exist. The world began and ended with Brody, and the history they shared. The history nobody could touch, and nobody could understand, because nobody was there except the two of them.