This was always his favorite time of the day. Guests happily fed and an opportunity to display his one true passion and gift. While he could certainly cook, no one in his position could rely strictly on his baking skills, it was in the oven where he found what passed as joy for him.

To take flour, sugar, water, eggs and create masterpieces was Shep's one true pleasure.

"And it only counts if folks get to eat it!" Shep chuckelled to himself as he labored up to retrieve his pies for dessert.

At first he simply stared at the two pies on the window sill. "Huh, that's funny." One pumpkin, one apple.

He looked around his disheveled kitchen with a confused look, as if thinking one of the pies might have wandered to a different shelf.

Realization started to dawn on him as he noticed the circle ring from the missing pie tin. His realization lit a spark somewhere deep inside him. A spark that quickly blossemed into a flame and crescendoed into a full raging inferno.

"I'LL KILL HIM! DON'T NOBODY COME INTO MY KITCHEN AND LIFT ONE OF *MY* PIES!" His voice easily carrying to the furthest reaches of the inn and to the buildings round about.

His suprised dinner customers completely forgotten, Shep rushed out the back door. In the light from the kitchen window, the story was plain enough. Here was the stomped down section where he'd waited. Then, the tentative steps still outlined in the snow to the window. A confusion of feet as the thief must have debated which one to take. Then a clear trail leading toward the river.

Shep quickly returned to the kitchen. He emerged less than a minute later, still in his shirtsleeves clutching the largest cleaver in his pantry.

He considered baking up some tasty confection and lining it was poison. Unfortunately, Shep didn't know where'd he get the poison and he just couldn't see ruining good food like that . . . even to catch a thief.

He'd nearly become resigned to it, simply cataloguing the missing items each morning and making sure to buy extra so that he'd have enough for his guests.

Shep was a patient man. Sooner or later his thief would make a mistake. Shep had already worked out what nasty plans he had in mind.

The longer she had stood there thinking, the madder she had gotten. Throwing down the rag she had twisted into a knot she stormed out the door. She walked as if she were headed to a gunfight and everyone stood clear as she walked hurriedly up the street and into the Inn. She knew the place like the back of her hand. Stomping past the front desk, through the dining area and into the kitchen she found him.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

Rubbing his sore head he turned to confront his accuser.

"Now, look here granny. Them chickens was free range, I tell you. T'weren't no way of knowing who's yard they strayed out of. They might a froze to death in the snow if I hadn't rescued em."

Gestering to a large pot of soon to be chicken stock he continued, "You're welcome to what's left of em. Not much but the bones and these here feathers." With that he hefted a dirty feedbag full of brown and white feathers.

"You might could make a pillow I spose. Course, might be a little scratchy what with them being full growed feathers and all."

"They're yers if you want em!"

"Do you even hear me!"

"PIES? You wanna talk about pies? Why would I want to take any of your pies? I want to FEED my guests not POISON em!"

"You been doing quite the business since you reopened. I don't wonder that it's you borrowin' a pie here and there to sort of make up the difference when you falls behind!"

She reached for the first thing at hand. It turned out to be a half empty bag of flour. Giving it a heave, he fortunatly misjudged it's weight. It caught on a corner of the table and ripped a hole down the side. Shep's momentum and the position of the hole resulted in more flour getting thrown than sack.

The beast of a man cried out a threat to her which she interpreted as having her arms and legs cut off and put in a stew. Eyes widening in terror, she screamed aloud and tore off through the kitchen, through the dining room and out the front door into the bitter cold that swept down main street. "OH MY LORD OH MY LORD OH MY LORD!"

She almost took the door of the Cafe off its hinges as she burst through, white as a ghost. She locked the door behind her, and peered out the window to the street. "RUTHIE!! BRING THE LARGEST FRYING PAN WE HAVE!"

"Miss Addy, it's not that bear is it?" she asked as she ran to her almost grandmother's side.

Adelyne grabbed the frying pan out of the girl's hand. "No. It's someone much, much worse."

Ruthie saw Black Shep raging toward the cafe, and ran to the back for a second fryer. It was about time this stinkin', no good excuse for a Baker got a taste of his own nastiness.

There was simply smoke to start with. Had someone come by at just this moment, the sparks break for freedom would have been easily cut short. But no one came by.

As the spark grew into a small flame, he got to know the apron better. Their relationship consumed the apron but only left the flame hungry for more. The last of the apron fell from the table into the kindling box. Here the flame really started to make itself friendly moving quickly to meet as many of the pieces of wood as possible.

The relationship continued to heat up. The woodbox was made of wood and soon succummed to the allure of the flame. Giving way at last it spilled its contents onto the oak floor. One burning round rolled to a nearby stack of rags. They were quick to join the party.

Within just a few moments the entire kitchen was engulfed as the flame, now a raging beast consumed everything within it's reach.

That's right. He had been driven out of his kitchen. And not before it was starting to be vandalized. It all became very clear for Shep. Unable to stand the competition he'd been burned out.

His face remained as impassive as it had been from the moment he'd discovered the fire, but deep inside another spark sprang to life. Like it's real world counterpart, it quickly grew to consume his entire being, finally settling down to a slow burn hot enough to last for weeks.

And to think that he'd just finished trying to negotiate a peace treaty of sorts with her. Well, that was done for now.

Finally becoming aware of his surroundings, Shep looked at the pathetic efforts to douse the flames. The Inn had been built of well seasoned wood and flames were now visible through the wooden shakes that covered the roof.

This wasn't the end of it. No, not by a long shot. Shep could afford to be patient. But, he'd surely get his revenge.

As the water barrels arrived, she organized the smallest of the kids into a bucket brigade to pass full buckets down the line and empty ones back up. Two of the largest of the boys stood at the end closest to the fire flinging bucketful after bucketful into the open door.

Why had he even come to this town? Chances were he w'stle wasn't even here anymore. After hearing SOMETHING on the night air, he'd spent countless cold shivery days listening with nothing to show for it but blue fingers and toes.

Perhaps he'd push on when the weather cleared. Glancing at the grey sky, he noted the first few snowflakes of the day wafting down. Yes, definitely going to push on come Spring. As he turned to head back to the warm of this camp by the river he noticed the school marm, Miss Spellings leading her class of mini-firefighters into the fray.

Of all the people here, she'd been the one to try to help the most. If not for the town for Miss Spellings then.

"Oh dear, wheres a blanket of falling snow when you need it." She looked around at the townfolk who had come to help out. And then she saw the beast. Shep! His eyes were narrowed and he was looking hard for something. She wondered what.

She swallowed hard with the realization that maybe he wasn't looking for something..but SOMEONE. And who would he be looking for right now at this moment. HER.
She took the empty bucket she was holding and put it over her head. Maybe if he couldn't see her he wouldn't find her. She slowly started sneaking her way back towards the cafe. And the frying pan.

For some reason, the rage he was spending on her friend made Ruthie angry. It was energy that could be spent helping the rest to fight the fire.

"She done this apurpose! Can't abide the competition, that's all. Just pure and out right jealousy!"

"Don't you see if I don't get some of my own back before we're all said and done here!"

"You just go on and tell her that there's only so long she can hide in her kitchen. This here's a message to the whole town just how low the Baker's'll stoop to get their way."

"They built it. They burned it. Let THEM put it out!"

Adelyne pushed her way to the front and began tossing water on the fire with the rest of the bucket brigade.

She worried for a moment that the fire may not be contained. She muttered under her breath, "Oh, Obadiah. How I need you now. You cantankerous and stubborn old goat."

No sooner had she spoke the words than the heavens opened up and started pouring down a mixture of rain and snow. She turned to the crowd, "MAKE SURE EVERY BUCKET IS FULL! LET'S GET THIS FIRE OUT!"

She looked to the heavens and laughed. "You old goat," And then she went back to fighting the dwindling fire, soaking wet, and cold as the dickens.

As one woman tripped on her skirt, the younger of the two newcomers thought to himself "Now there's a woman what looks to me like she'd might would like to wear pants. I reckon she might find herself some when this here's all over."

Just then a peaceful shower of rain mixed with snow began to descend upon the town.

The two men ran to offer what assistance they could, knowing that introducing themselves to these fine folks had best wait for another time.

Picking up a couple of empty pails, dripping wet from sweat as much as from the rain she practically hurled them at the two gentleman. "It's almost under control gents, now let's finish it off."

Then, before they could say a word, Lucky bounded off to the side of his friend, Sam. Just then a pretty, but obviously tired, young woman turned to introduce herself.

As she extended her hand and said her name, Lucky quickly said, "Well, yes you are ma'am! Charmin', that is, and I'm mighty pleased to meet ya'! My name's Lucky! Lucky Finder. And this here's my friend, Sam Barger."

As Lucky pumped Miss Charming's arm vigorously, he flashed his biggest smile, which extended up to his green eyes. Eyes which were now twinkling with the excitement of meeting someone new. He'd never say so, of course, but he was growing a bit bored with Sam's quiet company. He hoped these folks would be more interesting.

She looked up to see the two gentlemen who had helped standing with Ruthie. Two gentlemen who looked like they could possibly need work. And well..there was a kitchen that needed rebuilding.

She pushed through the crowd, practically stumbling up to the two men.

"Baker..," She gasped. "Addie." She reached over and grabbed her knees, breathing hard.
She held up a hand as if to pause them for a moment then finally was able to speak. "I'm Adelyne Baker. And I was wondering...are you looking for work? Because if you are, I've got a kitchen that needs to be rebuilt. Well, it's not my kitchen. But a kitchen nonetheless. Are you in that line of work?"

Then Sam's eyes quickly returned the young woman, Miss Charming who was the victim of Lucky's energetic attention. She was starting to look uncomfortably wet and Sam knew that ladies did not like to look that way. So, with a tip of his hat, he said "Pleased to meet you Ma'am. Yes, we'd love to join you for dinner. Please do me the honor of showing me the way."

Just as he was getting ready to say, "Yes'm, don't mind if I do" to Miss Charming's idea about eating, Sam interrupted and practically pushed him away from her.

Lucky didn't have time to fret about it though, 'cause right then another lady, older this one, came stumbling up, out of breath and just about to drop on the ground in front of them. Lucky jumped to her side to help her if he could.

He waited for her to catch her breath, holding his hand out toward her the whole time in case she stumbled.

First her name came out in a wheezing gasp. Then, he couldn't believe his ears. She had just offered them work! That was even better than dinner!

Lucky practically shouted, "Yes'm we sure could use some work. Ole' Sam said we're gonna be in town a few days at least, so we'd be happy to help you folks with whatever you need. If fixin' that kitchen's what you need then that's what we'll be doin'!"

"Oh, and my name's Lucky Finder, ma'am and that there's my boat captain, Sam Barger. I'm real pleased ta' meetcha."

Ruthie smiled past her exhaustion at the two men. It seemed obvious that Sam was Lucky's balance. She let go of the enthusiastic man's grip, and took Sam's arm. He was good looking, but not the way of a certain lawman she'd grown fond of in the months before her return to Hatrack. Still, his manner was warm and kind.

Scott stands there looking at the wet ashes of the fire. Crouching down Scott sees that the fire appears to have started in a bakery. Scott sighs to himself thinking that’s sad since he loves fresh baked bread. Even in the rain and fire and snowfall he can tell that the owner of this establishment kept a tidy kitchen.

“Evenin’,” He said. “This your place?”

Then, grinning broadly, Lucky remembered his manners. He thrust his hand out and said, "Name's Lucky. Lucky Finder."

"Me and my friend Sam came to town on his keelboat earlier today. We travel up and down the rivers sellin' stuff to folks and taking orders from them same folks for stuff we can bring back next time we come to town. You name it, we can find it!"

Scott begins to wonder who’s place this is if it doesn’t belong to Lucky. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else around interested in the aftermath of the fire. Was the place abandoned? Is the owner out of town on business? Scott doubts that the owner was killed in the fire because the rest of the town would have stuck around until they found the body. Scott’s curiosity is aroused.

"No, I sure don't know who owns this place neither. I figured it was one of those folks who was helpin' put the fire out, but, you're right, nobody stuck around so, maybe not."

Lucky looked around at the scene and remembered something from earlier.

"Ya' know, there was a lady here, older lady, who asked me and my friend, Sam to help rebuild this place. Maybe she owns it. I think her name was Aggie. Her last name might of been Charming or maybe Baker. It all happened so fast, I don't recall for sure. Anyway, maybe she'll be back soon."

Lucky grinned again and turned back to work as he said, "In the mean time though, looks like you and me's got our work cut out."

It slowly dawned on him that it was not just running a little higher, it was running A LOT higher. the water was advancing up the street spreading out as it went.

He noticed a dirty man with floury fingers standing outside a building and made his way over.

Using only his left hand he pulled his baking tray out of the brick oven and more or less threw the biscuits at the towel draped over his cracked bowl. Most scattered over the counter. One, no two, rolled off onto the dirty plank floor. Not a one actually made into the bowl.

Still left handed, Shep scooped up those on the counter and tried to keep them from burning his hands again. Retrieving the two from the floor, he swiped them at the front of his dirty apron and pushed them to the bottom of the bowl.

Shep was just placing a steaming plate of ham on the crowded table when he heard raised voiced outside the inn.
Throwing open the door, he noticed in the fading afternoon light, two men facing each other with guns drawn. The situation couldn't have been any clearer.

"Guns don't work in Hatrack. Never have. If y'all are gonna kill each other, got to do it like civilized folk with a knife or maybe yer fists."

"Course, if you'd rather eat, foods on!"

Holstering his apparently useless gun, he headed for the door to the inn without a backward glance.

"This isn't much of a town. You stay out of my way."

Almost immediately the cook, a bear of a man appeared with a bowl brimming with the most delicious smelling stew.

It had literally been Miles since he'd had anything to eat and days prior to that since he'd had anything hot. He accepted the bowl, scalded his thumb as he slopped a small amount on the table and finally managed to get it on the table.

Grabbing a chunk of bread he swipped at the spill and eagerly stuffed nearly the entire chunk of bread into his mouth. Chewing greedily as he hauled out his spoon and attacked the soup.

"Th'ks f'r h'lp'ng ''t th'r'" he mumbled past the bread and the scalding soup/stew he was shoving into his mouth as fast as he could manage it without burning himself.

With a swallow he added, "Don't like the look of that guy. Too sure of himself."

He barely grunted an acknowledgment.

"Careful how you jump to conclusions round here. Hatrack's friendly enough, but it don't take to them's that assume they know more than the locals."