It had been about half an hour since Marston and Marshal Johnson had apprehended Walton Lowe, and Marston was slowly making his way back to Armadillo. It was taking him much longer to get back to town than it had to travel the same distance away earlier, as earlier he had Abby at a gallop, but now had her at a mere walk.

It was early afternoon in the vast New Austin desert, and Marston took a sip out of his half-empty leather canteen. He put the cap back on and let it hang on his left side, over his satchel.

He had one hand on the saddle grip, and the other on the reins. He kept his head down as he relaxed his muscles, and he disappeared into his thoughts.

"Who's that? Are you really there?" He heard a voice ask, disrupting his thoughts.

Marston looked up and to his left, and saw a petite young lady with brown hair styled into a bun, and she was wearing a pink shirt with a dark-blue vest, a dark-blue skirt and white gloves. She wore a white hat with black feathers decorating one of it's sides.

The young lady was laying on the ground near a rock, propping herself up with her arms.

Marston stopped Abby at the side of the road and dismounted her, then started to approach the young lady. Marston thought of how he faintly recognized her, but couldn't figure out from where. He was unaware that her name was Jenny."Hello! Hello there," Jenny said as she laid on the ground, propped up by her arms.

"Howdy, miss," Marston said as he approached her. "What are you doing out here?" he asked as he took Jenny's arm and slowly pulled her to her feet.

"Uhm, I'm thinking," Jenny said as she breathed heavily.

Marston studied her face for a moment, then asked, "Have I seen you before?"

"Oh, yes I think so," Jenny said. "On the train from Blackwater, perhaps?"

"Yeah, yeah, you were talking with the Preacher," Marston said.

"Yes sir, I was," Jenny said as she took a couple steps forward.

"I don't know if it's so safe out here, miss," Marston said.

"Oh, you can just call me Jenny," she said, and then collapsed to the ground. Marston tried to help her up again, but she waved him off.

"I'm alright..." Jenny said as she stood on her knees. "Uh... I'm safe, because I have faith. So, faith...can move mountains. That's the whole point."

Marston looked around, quite confused, then asked, "You're trying to move a mountain?"

"Oh, no," Jenny said as she laughed softly. "I can't do anything. But with faith, I can achieve great things. I know that. I know it." She then started to stand upon her own, and Marston helped steady her.

"Want me to take you back into town, ma'am?" Marston asked. "You seem kinda unwell."

"No, I... I get such clarity out here, I see things purely." Jenny said. "The world is so beautiful."

"And full of things that'll kill you," Marston said. "Including illness."

"Nothing's gonna kill me, sir," Jenny said."

"Well..." Marston said after a short pause, "take care then."

As Marston walked away, Jenny collapsed into the dust again and started coughing.

Marston did not know how to properly help Jenny, and he did not want to interfere with whatever it was she was aiming to do, no matter how nonsensical he thought it was.

He mounted Abby, then looked back at Jenny as she laid in the dirt. "Let's go," he said as he spurred Abby, and she started to trot. Marston wondered about Jenny's wellbeing but knew that if she wanted to stay out in the wilderness, then it was her deathwish. He trotted away, leaving Jenny to her fate.

_______________________________________________________________________

It was evening, and Marston was sitting on a stool in the Armadillo Saloon. He had drank a shot of whiskey, and was now sipping on a mug of beer. He had his hat on the bar next to him, and his gloves next to that. On the wall behind the counter were shelves of liquor and beer, with a couple of oil lamps and a painting of a disrobed woman.

The saloon pianist played a ditty at the other side of the room, next to a grandfather clock. Throughout the saloon were folks drinking, mingling and gambling at the several round tables positioned around the room. There were dice games and Blackjack, and there was a private Poker table in the back room.

Marston had played a game of Blackjack earlier and won an extra seven dollars, and decided to use that for some drinks, food, and lodging. Considering that he had found twenty dollars at the Pleasance house earlier, he figured that he was having some pretty good luck that day. He was set for awhile.

"You want anoth'r?" the bartender asked Marston as he wiped the counter with a cloth.

"I'm good, thanks," Marston said. "But I think I'll pay for a room, got any available?"

"I do," the bartender said. "You want it?"

"For how much?" Marston asked.

"Two dollars and forty cents," the bartender said.

"I'll take it," Marston said as he reached into his pocket and counted out the money. "Here," he said as he put the money on the counter.

"Once you go up the stairs, it's the third door down," the bartender said. "And since you rented a room, all drinks are half-price until seven tomorrow mornin'."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Marston said as he stood up out of the barstool, grabbed his gloves and put on his hat, and he walked toward the stairs which were on the other side of the room. He walked between the tables where people were sitting by or standing near, many were talking and laughing loudly as they drank, smoked or gambled.

Marston reached the stairs and walked up to the second floor, where he could look down at the other people below. The second floor started as a narrow walkway that led into a wider area that was used as a sitting room, with a sofa and some chairs, along with a coffee table in the middle.

There was a man groping a prostitute on the sofa, and he made eye contact with Marston.

"Hey! Get outta here!" the man said.

"My apologies, sir," Marston said as he tipped his hat. "Ma'am."

Marston turned the doorknob and walked into the room he rented, then closed the door behind him. The room was small, with a bed at the far end in front of a window, an armoire, a small nightstand and a chair. There was an oil lamp upon the nightstand.

Marston took off his leather canteen, satchel and sleeveless denim jacket and set them inside the armoire. He walked over to the nightstand and took off his hat, gloves, and revolver holster and put them on it. He lit the oil lamp, and then took off his boots.

He sat on the edge of the bed, which had a stained mattress that was torn in some spots. He laid on his back with his head on the pillow, and he closed his eyes.

He could hear the sounds of the saloon, such as various voices, the easily audible sound of the pianist still tapping away on the piano, and the sound of the man and the prostitute as they fornicated on the sofa. But it did not keep him up, he felt that he was tired enough to sleep for days. He slowly fell asleep, and slipped away into his dreams.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was being shot through the chilly night air like a speeding bullet. Everything that he passed by was a mere blur, and yet he felt as if he could see all of it with striking clarity. He seemed to accelerate faster and faster until finally he came to a dizzying halt.

He was back in the desert, surrounded by shrubs and cacti in all directions. He could not feel his body, it didn't even feel as if it was there at all, as if he was one with the chilly air of the dark night. He could not hear or smell anything, but he could see everything with exceptional accuracy.

And what he could see was a young lady laying in a fetal position in the sandy dirt of the terrain, shivering and breathing with difficulty. She almost seemed to be praying.

"Why didn't you help her, John?" a deep, booming voice asked. "What happens when she dies -- and she will die -- and you did nothing to help her, despite how vain your efforts would have been? Will you try once more to help her before she reaches her end, or will you simply leave her to her fate? It's your choice, John. Neither choice is correct, but neither is wrong. I wonder how you will handle it."

Then, Marston felt himself glide back through the air, and it almost seemed to ripple in his path. Then there was a snap and everything went pitch black and without any perceptible dimension.

_______________________________________________________________________________

It was early morning when Marston calmly awoke, with the foreboding dream still fresh in his mine d. He cupped his hands on his face and rubbed his eyes, then yawned. He wondered about the dream and why he had it, but he figured that it was the liquor from the previous night giving him odd dreams.

Yet, he had what he considered to be a bizarre urge to ride out into the desert and find Jenny. He rose out of bed and put his boots on, then stood up and walked over to the armoire. He opened it and grabbed his sleeveless denim jacket, leather canteen and satchel and put them on. He walked over to the nightstand where his hat, gloves and holster were located. He equipped all of them, and then he slung the Spencer Repeater over his shoulder and walked out of the room.

He steadily walked along the walkway and down the stairs finding the saloon nearly void of people, save for those who were passed out on the floor or in chairs.

"Mornin' mister," the bartender said as he swept the floor. "It's passed seven o'clock so ya' missed the half-priced drinks, but you could get some breakfast."

"No, I'm good, thanks," Marston said.

"You sure?" the bartender asked.

"Yeah, I'm in kind of a hurry," Marston said as he neared the hinge doors.

"A'ight," the bartender said. "Well, take care then."

Marston left the saloon and headed for the hitching posts nearby, where Abby was hitched at. Most people of Armadillo were up and going about their business, and it seemed like the town was quiet and soft around this time of day.

Marston unhitched Abby, mounted her, then said "Let's go." They hastily made their way out of town, and into the barrens of Cholla Springs county.

After about an hour of trotting along, Marston arrived back to where he had last met Jenny. To his surprise, she was still there.

Jenny still laid on her stomach, propped up by her arms in nearly the same spot she was the previous day. She was coughing and breathing heavily now, almost gasping for breath, and she was clearly weak. Marston dismounted Abby, steadily approached Jenny and stopped in front of her.

"Miss Jenny? Miss Jenny," Marston said as he bent over with his hands on his knees. "It don't look like the almighty is much inclined to help you out here. I was kinda worried about you, so I brought you some medicine."

Marston reached into his satchel and pulled out a bottle of medicine, and he went to hand it to Jenny, and she reached her arm up to grab it.

"Oh! Oh, Heaven's!" she said weakly and deliriously as she clutched the medicine into her hand. "Oh, praise you Lord, I knew you'd save me!" She then placed the medicine on the ground and coughed.

"Excuse me?" Marston asked as he sat on a rock.

"You see, it was only through His will that you were ordered to save me," Jenny said, then coughed. "Tell me, were there angels in your vision?"

"Jenny, can I take you back into town?" Marston asked.

"Praise you, Savior!" Jenny said as she got onto her knees, looked up at the sky and put her hands together at her chest as if she were praying. "I knew you'd save me!"

Jenny then coughed and fell back to the ground.

"Will you come with me?" Marston asked, slightly frustrated.

"Oh, I'm fine here, mister," Jenny said, then coughed, and then her voice became horse as she continued to speak. "I'm in Heaven! Heaven..."

Jenny coughed more and gasped as she breathed. Marston then stood up and started to walk back to Abby. He had done all that he knew to do.

He mounted Abby once again, gripped the saddle, and started to trot away. He didn't look back. Jenny's faith was unbreakable, and it had sealed her fate.